Sutherland's Secret (22 page)

Looking at the proud tilt of her head and the squared shoulders and the accusing eyes, he wondered what he had been thinking. She was no terrified woman who was lost and alone and shamed. Not anymore, at least.

She faced him. The Highlander behind him moved closer. Campbell perked up in interest. She held her fists up and shoved her arms toward him. “Please tell the duke where I got these,
sir
.”

Blackwood had to lean back to focus on her arms, and what he saw had his blood running cold. Scars circled her dainty wrists and there was no mistaking what they had come from.

“I have the statements of two of my guards that a woman was in our prison for close to five weeks,” Cumberland said. “What say you, Colonel?”

“I—I…” Blackwood cleared his throat. “I feared—with good reason—that the treason ran deeper than Glendale himself and that his wife could be involved as well. I wanted to be assured that no more secrets were being relayed to the Jacobites and endangering England.”

“Do you deny coming to me the afternoon my husband was murdered and telling me I needed a protector? And when I asked what you meant by that, you said I would sleep with you for my protection, because there were others who believed that I might be a traitor as well.”

Blackwood looked down on Eleanor Hirst; it took everything inside him not to squirm. How had everything gone so terribly wrong? Where was the frightened woman from Edinburgh? This was no scared woman. This was a she-warrior ready to do battle.

“I recall telling you that you were being scrutinized as a traitor,” he said. He felt like he was feeling his way in the dark, and he didn’t like the feeling one bit.

“This is preposterous,” Lord Scarbrough exploded. “We are from a highly respected family who has always supported England and its causes. To be accused of such a heinous crime is an insult to my family and to my sister.”

Cumberland held his hand up to quiet Scarbrough. Blackwood felt his defense slipping beneath his muddy boots. He’d never had any intention for it to go so far. He’d firmly believed that Lady Glendale would accept his offer of protection and that eventually they would marry and he would have everything he’d always wanted. He’d gone about it all wrong. He knew that now. He should have moved more slowly after her husband’s hanging. He never should have offered to take her to bed. If he’d moved more slowly, she would have accepted him. He’d panicked when she’d denied him. He hadn’t wanted her going to his superiors with her story.

Eleanor took a step back, allowing him to breathe a little easier, but the look in her eyes didn’t put him at ease. “You come from gentry,” she said. “You’re the fourth son.”

He looked down at her in surprise. How did she know?

She smiled but it wasn’t a friendly smile. “Lord Glendale told me about you. He admired you. Said you worked hard and that your father, not that well off, scraped the money together for your commission. Charles thought that was admirable. But it wasn’t enough, was it?” she asked softly. “You wanted more. You wanted Charles’s position. Being a colonel would elevate you, but even that wasn’t enough. You wanted to open doors for yourself. It’s understandable,” she said in a soft voice that almost convinced him that she truly did understand. “What was a fourth son good for besides the military? But if you could step out of the gentry and into the nobility, you could be someone of importance. My family was to help you with that. Am I right, Colonel?”

Blackwood was breathing hard, feeling it all crumbling away from him, all his dreams and aspirations. “You have no idea,” he burst out, seeing only her and the possibilities she could have brought him. “Without the army, I had nothing. What was I going to do when the army was finished with me? Return to my father a failure?”

“So you kill Charles and take over his life?” She placed a hand on his arm and looked at him.

He shook her hand off his arm. “Yes! No. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. You pretend to understand, but you understand nothing, my lady. You don’t know what it’s like to be hungry because your parents had too many children. To know that nothing trickles down to you and that you have to fight for everything.”

He grabbed her arm, and Sutherland moved so quickly that Blackwood had no time to retreat. His hands were yanked behind him, and a fatally sharp dagger was pressed into the soft part of his neck.

“Ye do no’ touch the lady,” a deep voice growled in his ear.

“My apologies,” Blackwood said, breathing shallowly for fear the dagger would prick him.

“Admit ye killed her Charles.”

“Lord Dornach,” Cumberland said in warning.

Good God, this man was a lord? He appeared to be something out of the stories told to frighten children into doing what their parents wanted them to do.

“Brice,” Eleanor said, her eyes round with fright.

Campbell, still leaning against the wall, seemed to smile, and Scarbrough gaped at Brice. “I’m fair weary of hearing his tall tales. We’ve heard nothing but lies come from the man. Tell the truth,” Brice growled.

Cumberland came around his desk and stood before them. “Did you falsify the papers that accused Lord Glendale of being a traitor?” he asked.

Blackwood’s eyes darted around the room. There seemed to be no help from any quarter, no possible way to escape the strength of the Highlander who held him captive. He sagged in the Highlander’s hold and the dagger drew blood. He felt it roll down his neck and onto his shirt. “Yes.”

Eleanor’s chin came up. Tears pushed against the back of her eyes, making Blackwood blurry.

“Release him, Brice.”

Brice hesitated, his startled gaze going to her. It wouldn’t do for a Highland chief to kill an English colonel, no matter what kind of a snake he was.

Brice stepped away but stood at the ready, watching her warily as she stepped closer to Blackwood. “Say it again,” she said between clenched teeth. “Tell me again that you had my husband murdered.”

He glared at her, his usually perfect hair mussed and blood dripping on his shirt. Those cold, dead eyes stared at her as his jaw worked, and the anger she’d been holding back erupted. Before she knew what she was about, she’d slapped him so hard that his head jerked sideways and a red handprint appeared on his cheek. He turned his face back to her, the glare intensified.

“Tell me,” she said.

“I had him killed.”

“Tell me you falsified those charges. I want to hear it.”

“Eleanor—”

She cut off Brice’s warning with a slice of her hand through the air. She’d waited so long to hear this. All those weeks in the prison wondering, doubting her own husband.

“Say it,” she yelled, making Blackwood jump.

“I falsified the charges of treason.” He bit out each word, but she didn’t care. She’d heard what she wanted, and she stepped back.

“I want something in writing. I want Charles’s name cleared,” she said to the room.

“Of course, my lady,” Cumberland said. He called for his guards, who came in, and Eleanor watched as Colonel Blackwood was arrested for the murder of her husband. She watched impassively, her anger waning until it was a dull ache.

“I’ll write up a report,” Cumberland said. “Lord Scarbrough can take it back to London with him, or I can send it myself.”

“Whatever you see fit,” she said dully. Brice looked at her sharply as he put his dagger back in his boot.

“Lady Glendale.”

She turned to Cumberland.

“On behalf of the English army and my family personally, I want to apologize for the injustice that has been done to you, your family, and Lord Glendale’s family.”

She smiled faintly. “Put it in writing, Your Grace, and all will be well.”

They made their way back outside, and Eleanor breathed deeply. She wasn’t certain what to feel. She was relieved that Charles’s name would be cleared, but she was saddened that his life had ended the way it had. It had not been an easy death; he’d been confused and indignant to the very end. She was extremely grateful that Blackwood hadn’t gotten away with murder and would never walk a free man again.

Thomas jogged up to them, something clutched in his hand. “His Grace wrote out the letter exonerating Charles of all accusations. He’s also sending a copy through his own courier to the king.”

“Good,” Eleanor said, pleased. It was the best she could hope for. Now Charles’s family could return to London with pride.

Brice looked around the garrison with his eyes narrowed.

“What is it?” Eleanor asked.

“MacLean might be here.”

“You can’t possibly think to free him,” Eleanor whispered.

“What about MacLean?” Campbell asked, appearing more interested than he had all day.

Brice eyed Campbell. “MacLean was taken by Blackwood’s men.”

Campbell looked around as well. “And you think he’s here?”

“I do no’ know, but I believe he might be.”

“He created a distraction so Brice and I could take Thomas from Blackwood,” Eleanor said to Campbell. “He was arrested for his efforts.”

Campbell seemed to think for a moment. “Go on without me. Leave my horse and my men, but take the ship back to Dornach.”

Brice spread his feet apart and crossed his arms. “What are ye thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Campbell said. “But I might be able to help MacLean.”

Brice considered the Campbell seriously for a few moments. “Are ye serious?”

“Yes,” Campbell said. “I believe I am. Leave it to me. I’ll see what I can do.”

Brice and Eleanor and Thomas left. Eleanor didn’t feel right leaving Campbell behind, but he had just proved that he was acquainted with Cumberland, so maybe he could do something for MacLean that none of them could.

Because the wind was with them, it took less time to sail to Dornach than it had to get to Elgin, which meant that Brice had less time with Eleanor.

She had been quiet on the return trip. Mostly she kept to herself and stared out over the horizon. He stayed away from her, sensing that she needed time alone. She seemed pleased by the outcome with Blackwood. Brice would have been more pleased if he could have sliced his dagger across the man’s throat and watched him bleed out in front of everyone.

They docked at Dornach. Brice’s feet were heavy. There was no reason for Eleanor and Thomas to stay now. Charles’s good name had been returned to him, and Eleanor could go to his family with the good news. She could finally be with her own family. Where she belonged.

He watched her step onto Scottish soil from the ship. The wind blew her hair wildly about her, and she pushed it back with a smile to hold it at the nape of her neck.When she turned to him, her smile nearly stopped his heart, and he soaked it in like the soft rainfall on a spring day in the Highlands, knowing that soon he would be parched from the lack of it.

He stepped up to her and looked down on her upturned face. She was so different from when he’d picked her up in the road. She’d filled out and was nicely rounded in all the right places. She had color in her face and her eyes sparkled.

“Well, lass, are ye happy with the outcome?”

“I am. Charles can finally rest, and his family can now have peace.”

“Good, then.”

Thomas stopped next to Eleanor. “I’d like to set off for London as soon as possible,” he said, brushing something off his coat. “The earlier, the better. I need to deliver Cumberland’s letter, and Mother and Father are probably beside themselves with worry. I’ve not been able to get a letter to them from this godforsaken place.”

Eleanor kept her gaze steady on Brice, a question in the depths of her blue eyes. Brice wanted to knock Thomas out to keep him from going on and on about London. He was powerfully weary of it.

“Thomas,” Eleanor said. “Do be quiet for once.”

Thomas’s voice trailed off in surprise.

“I’m not going to London,” she said.

“Not going to London?” He sounded perplexed.

Brice knew
he
was perplexed. “What are ye saying, lass?”

“I’m not going to London. I’m staying here. That is, if you’ll have me.” She suddenly looked vulnerable and unsure of herself.

Brice could barely breathe through the hope that had a chokehold on him. “Are ye sure about this?”

“Will you have me? Or do I need to beg?”

“Eleanor,” Thomas sputtered. “This is preposterous.”

“Be quiet, Thomas. This doesn’t concern you,” Eleanor admonished her brother without taking her eyes off Brice, who was struggling to breathe appropriately, and his knees felt curiously weak.

“No need to beg,” he said. “But Eleanor, I need ye to be sure about this. I do no’ want ye to regret yer rash actions—”

She put a finger to his lips, silencing him. “My actions aren’t rash. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I don’t want to go to London. Not when my heart is in Scotland.”

He was fairly certain that his heart missed a beat or two before it resumed at twice its normal pace. “I could no’ live if, years or even months from now, ye decided ye needed to go back to London.”

She stepped closer to him. “I’ll say this one more time and I’ll not say it again. I am not Alisa. If you don’t trust that I will stay here with you, then I might as well return to London with Thomas.”

The thought of Eleanor leaving him to go to London was terrifying. Yet it was a part of her. It was her home and where her family lived. How could she not want to return to everything she knew? He didn’t have the excitement to offer her that London had.

“Brice,” she said. “Do you not want me?” She took a step back, her eyes darkening in pain.

He grabbed her and crushed her to him. “I want ye so bad that it hurts,” he whispered harshly. “I canno’ let ye go but I fear to let ye stay.”

She pulled away and looked up at him, studying him. “We all have fears we have to face, but I assure you, I am not one of those fears. I love you, Brice Sutherland. You and Scotland, this is where I belong. I know it in my heart. What does your heart tell you?”

He hesitated, not wanting to tell her his heart in case it would force her to stay. And yet hadn’t she just told him that she wanted to stay? That her heart belonged to him and to Scotland?

“I want ye here,
mo ghràdh
. With me, always.”

“Then this is where I will be.” She tapped his chest, right above where his heart was thundering. “Right here in your heart.”

“Ah, lass, ye have more than my heart. Ye have my soul as well. I love ye so, Eleanor.”