Chapter Thirty-Six

Kirk took Lillian’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze as they wound their way through the sea of canvas toward the Bruce’s tent. In truth, though, he was not sure how much hope he could give her.

In the hour since the Bruce’s arrival, Kirk had only had time to be seen quickly by Jossalyn Sinclair, the camp’s healer. She prodded at the wound just above his collarbone, but since it was already several days old and had closed on its own, she’d determined that he didn’t need stitches.

Just as Jossalyn had been leaving, he and Lillian had been summoned to the Bruce’s tent for questioning. Other than changing into clean, dry clothes, he’d had no time to gather his thoughts—or soothe the fears that radiated from Lillian like steam from heated water.

Lillian looked up at him as they walked, her dark eyes clouded with worry.

“It will be all right,” he murmured, though the unease in his gut told him otherwise.

Ahead of them, Kirk saw Colin slip into the Bruce’s tent. At least he might have an ally in explaining all that had happened since Kirk had last met with the Bruce. It had been nearly a year since Kirk had stood in the Bruce’s tent to receive his mission. It felt like it could have been a lifetime ago given how much had changed.

Kirk held back the tent’s flap for Lillian, then ducked inside after her.

A brazier had been moved into the center of the tent, its smoke slipping through a little hole in the canvas overhead. The warmth and light from the fire made the inside of the tent cheery, but the merrily flickering flames stood in stark contrast to the two men already inside.

Colin stood off to the left of the Bruce’s large desk, his arms crossed over his chest and his features pulled into a concerned frown.

The Bruce paced behind his desk like a caged animal. One hand was lifted to his chin as he pulled on his russet beard in thought, his eyes narrowed on the floor before him as he stalked back and forth. He still wore the chainmail he’d arrived in. It seemed he could not be bothered to remove his heavy, wet war attire despite the discomfort it must be causing him.

Kirk had not worked closely enough with Robert the Bruce to know the nuances of his moods, but he’d seen similar behavior from Robert’s brother Edward. The Bruces could be brilliantly sharp-minded when it came to war, but they were also known for flashes of temper when faced with failure.

And the Bruce had just failed to take Berwick in this latest siege .

Beside him, Lillian curtsied deeply again, but the Bruce waved away the genuflection. “That isnae necessary when we are in private,” he said, still pacing.

Colin cleared his throat, shooting Kirk a discreet look before turning to the King. “As ye said outside, there is much to discuss. We may as well begin.”

At last, the Bruce came to a halt, pinning Kirk with a hard stare. “What are ye doing here, MacLeod?” he demanded bluntly. “And what is Lillian Fitzhugh doing here?”

Kirk shifted on his feet. “I think I’d better start from the beginning in order to answer that question, if ye dinnae mind.”

The Bruce waved his hand with a sigh, motioning for them all to sit. Once they were settled, there was naught left to do but for Kirk to speak.

He told of how he’d found and joined the Order, murmuring a few strategic lies to the right people. He described the Compound and the training he’d undergone, then his assignment to kidnap Lillian and bring her to a client who’d paid for the ability to torture her for information on Berwick’s walls.

The Bruce shot Colin a look. “We were right to send one of the members of the Corps to protect her.”

“Aye,” Kirk interjected, “but the Order of the Shadow suspected as much, which is why they sent me to take out yer man— our man—and capture Lillian.”

The Bruce jolted forward in his chair. “What happened to Will Sinclair? ”

A realization struck Kirk.

“When did ye start yer siege on Berwick?” Kirk asked.

“September,” the Bruce replied, his displeased frown deepening at the mention of the unsuccessful attack.

Kirk nodded. Because the Bruce had been sieging Berwick for the last two months, there was much he did not know. “Colin kens some of what happened, but since ye were occupied, he and I both had to act as we thought best.”

“What happened?” the Bruce demanded tightly again.

Reluctantly, Kirk explained how he’d attacked the safe house where Lillian had been kept. “I didnae take lives,” he said quickly. “But I did…injure Will Sinclair.”

“He may keep his right eye, but he’ll likely never regain the vision on that side,” Colin added quietly.

The Bruce turned an angry stare on Kirk.

“He thought I was his enemy, and I couldnae tell him otherwise,” Kirk said. “Ye asked me to go undercover within the Order. That meant becoming one of them, earning their trust. I couldnae risk destroying my cover on my first mission. I did what I could to spare the lad’s life.”

The Bruce exhaled sharply from his nose. After a long moment, he motioned for Kirk to continue.

“I realized after I injured the lad just what a bind I was in. I got word to Colin and he confirmed what I feared—that in taking Lillian, I was now working at cross-purposes with yer aim to protect her, sire. But I kenned that if I didnae deliver her to Roland Gervais, the man pulling the strings within the Order, yer assignment to infiltrate the Order would be compromised.”

The Bruce stilled, his hand on his chin and his eyes keen on Kirk.

Kirk resisted the urge to shift under his penetrating stare. He’d spoken the truth. He had naught to hide anymore. Then again, he hadn’t mentioned the feelings he’d developed for Lillian, which had further tangled his already-knotted circumstances.

“The news we received that a member of the Corps had been attacked—that was Kirk’s strike against Will and his kidnapping of Lillian,” Colin said to the Bruce, breaking the laden silence. “On my way back from the Highlands, I was intercepted by Patrick MacDonald, one of yer messengers, with a message from Kirk. It is as he says. He was trying to remain loyal to ye, sire. Yet in earning enough of the Order’s trust to be sent on a mission, he had to act against ye.”

Kirk met Colin’s gaze and gave him a nod of gratitude. Somehow over the course of the last year, Colin had gone from thinking Kirk a traitor and coward to defending him to the King himself. Pride surged in Kirk’s chest to have won the respect of such a man.

The Bruce considered Colin’s words for a moment before seeming to accept them. “Then what are ye both doing here?” he asked, turning his gaze back to Kirk and Lillian.

Now came the most difficult part to explain. Kirk drew in a breath and launched in. He told of the moment when he’d had to choose between following his mission for the Order or freeing Lillian and seeing her to safety.

“I kenned that Lillian’s life was important to ye,” he said to the Bruce, “for ye sent a bodyguard to watch over her. But I didnae just protect her for ye.”

Kirk shifted his gaze to Lillian, who sat wide-eyed beside him. “I did it because I love her and I couldnae stomach the thought of someone hurting her.”

Lillian’s dark eyes suddenly shimmered damply in the firelight. Kirk took her hand and squeezed it again, silently communicating all that was in his heart.

At last, he turned back to the Bruce to find him rubbing one russet eyebrow with his forefinger. “Every time,” he muttered under his breath, and though he frowned slightly, the heat of anger was absent from his voice.

“I ken that my feelings for Lillian…complicated matters, and even jeopardized my missions,” Kirk said softly. “But I willnae apologize for them, nor do I regret them.”

“Kirk brought Lillian to the camp a sennight ago for her protection,” Colin interjected, preventing the Bruce from being able to reply to Kirk’s bold declaration. “He rode off with Logan Mackenzie, his Highland contact within the Order.” Colin turned in his chair to face Kirk. “And that was the last we heard from him until he showed up a few moments before ye did, sire.”

All eyes shifted to Kirk. He tried to swallow the sudden tightness in his throat, but it pinched with nervousness. He’d stepped beyond the bounds of his mission in going after Roland on his own. He could only hope that the Bruce would forgive him given the outcome.

“Logan and I went after Roland Gervais,” he began.

“What?” The Bruce sat up straight, his eyes widening. “Ye took on the Order by yerself?”

“Roland would have come after me in three days—four at most—for no’ returning to the Compound. A simple attempt to contact the clients who paid for Lillian would have revealed my betrayal. I was a dead man if I waited for ye to give me the go-ahead.”

“Why didnae ye take more men?” the Bruce demanded.

Kirk stilled, a weight like a boulder pressing onto his chest. “Ye ken what happened at Carrickfergus.”

At his words, the Bruce grew quiet as well. “Ye didnae want to be in charge of more men, was that it? Ye didnae want to be responsible should yer mission go sideways.”

“Aye,” Kirk rasped through locked teeth. He felt Lillian’s small, soft hand on his forearm and let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The Bruce, too, exhaled slowly .

“Logan kenned where Roland’s headquarters were located, so we hunted him down. Roland is dead, and with him, the Order of the Shadow,” Kirk said, letting the unfamiliar sensation of peace wash away the dark memories.

Kirk met the Bruce’s stare, but found the King’s eyes unreadable.

“I only ordered ye to gather enough information on the Order for me to make my own move,” the Bruce said quietly.

“Aye,” Kirk replied. “But I didnae ken what else to do, what with Roland a few days away from realizing my betrayal, and yer plan to have a man working for ye inside the Order unraveling, and—”

The Bruce held up a hand to silence him. Kirk’s blood roared in his ears as he waited for the Bruce’s next words.

“Ye have saved countless lives, Kirk,” the King said quietly. “I’d say ye have more than earned yer freedom, man.”

Kirk sucked in a breath, and it felt like his first in ages.

He was free. But more than that, he felt as though he’d reclaimed his soul from the blackness that had shrouded it ever since Carrickfergus. He’d stepped back into the light, acted with conscience and honor. For the first time in more than a year, he found his faith again.

“And ye are sure that the Order has been destroyed?” Colin asked, leaning forward intently in his chair.

“From everything I can tell, Roland controlled the entire organization,” Kirk replied. “The bounty hunters were no more than mercenaries, so once the coin dries up, they’ll scatter. With Roland dead, those who would pay him for the Order’s services will have no one to turn to.”

The Bruce let out a wheeze that turned into a chuckle. “How many times since Bannockburn has the Order of the Shadow thwarted me?” His eyes now shone with keen excitement as they landed on Kirk. “I cannae tell ye how much ye have done for the cause.”

Before pride could make his head swell beyond the ability to think straight, Kirk quickly added, “Logan Mackenzie fought beside me with honor. He was forced to remain in the Order against his will—Roland was using his sister to keep him in line.”

Colin’s brows lowered. “Ye would have us trust him?”

“He is a good man,” Kirk insisted again. “And I believe the cause needs more warriors like him on its side.” He exhaled then. “He’s on his own, hoping to find his sister, but I’d ask that if he ever seeks us out, we give him the respect fitting a man who took down the Order of the Shadow at my side.”

Colin’s frown remained in place, but he tilted his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement of what Kirk had said.

The Bruce now steepled his fingers over his mouth, his eyes scanning the floor avidly, his thoughts clearly racing.

“Without the Order, the most powerful men in England can no longer simply pinpoint their targets at will. Aye, there will always be mercenaries and bounty hunters willing to take any mission for the right amount of coin, but without Roland Gervais, they’ll be hard-pressed to see to all the logistics themselves.”

The Bruce lifted his gaze to Lillian, seeming to bring himself back from his swirling thoughts. “And that means ye should be safe now, Lillian. The Order willnae bother ye again, and anyone hoping to use ye for information will have a far more difficult—nigh impossible—fight to get to ye. Even if the King of England himself was the one behind the men who took yer husband, he’ll be hard-pressed to reach ye now without the Order to facilitate it all.”

Lillian let out a shaky breath. “It is finally over.” She lifted her gaze to the King. “I have never gotten to say thank you for having me protected in the first place. I hope you do not think me ungrateful, but I still cannot believe that I was targeted at all. To think of coin passing hands, and lives being lost, and so much effort being exerted, all to extract some secret from me that doesn’t even—”

Lillian suddenly stilled, and Kirk watched as her quick mind worked behind her dark eyes.

“What is it, Lillian?” he asked softly.

“I…I just realized something.” She suddenly lifted he r wide eyes, her lips falling apart in shock. “Richard did hold vital information about Berwick’s defenses. And I know what it is.”