Chapter Nineteen

"Sit down, Grace," her father ordered not long later, after thanking Ross for rescuing them and sending him to go with her father's man at arms to see where he might be needed in the fight against the MacLeans should he wish to help. She knew he didn't, but to Grace's relief, he did not argue with her father, so she hoped the plan they had agreed upon was still in place.

He sat at his desk and put the unopened missive before him. He rubbed his hands across his face and then looked up at her. "I dunnae need to tell ye Conall is nae speaking the truth."

"Da," she said, thinking quickly as she realized her admiration was obviously important to him. "I dunnae pretend to ken what happened with Uncle Niall and Conall's sister, but I do ken what Uncle Niall is capable of." Her temples began to pound with the fear of her father seeing through her deception.

Her father frowned. "What do ye mean?"

"I overheard ye and Uncle Niall arguing some years ago, and I ken ye had to send away Leila, so that Uncle Niall would quit bothering her." She rose, her heart thumping, and moved around her father's desk to stand beside him. She set her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. "I dunnae need ye to shield me anymore, Da. I'm older now. I ken we must do things we dunnae wish to protect those we love."

Her father's hand came to rest on hers, and he gripped her fingers and squeezed them. "Thank ye, lass. That means a great deal to me. Yer uncle Niall can be troublesome at times, but he is my brother. I have told him I will nae go behind him and clean up any more of his messes, so he must keep his unwanted attentions to himself."

Grace felt ill at her father's admission. "Where is Uncle Niall?" she asked, her chest squeezing.

"With the healer. His twisted limbs have pained him greatly because he's nae been taking care of himself due to the fighting."

"Da, did Uncle Niall ravish Conall's sister?" she asked bluntly, releasing his hand and coming around to face him. She rested her left hip on his desk and looked down at him, realizing her father looked years older than the last time she'd seen him. "Did ye... did ye have to protect Uncle Niall by covering it up as ye did by sending Leila away?" she asked using the name of the servant her father had claimed not to know. When her father didn't immediately answer but stared at her, studying her as if trying to decide what to say, it felt as if a hand had plunged into her chest and squeezed her heart. "If I ken the truth, Da, I can help protect Uncle Niall from himself when he visits us. I can keep the servants away."

Her father's shoulders dropped a bit so that before he even spoke, she knew the awful truth. "Aye, lass, that would be a good thing." The horror she felt must have shown because her father tensed, and he said, "Dunnae think for a breath that Douglas's fate has nae haunted me. It has. But, lass, he was an orphan without a clan, so his life likely ended up better with the Watch than it would have been without it. He did injure yer uncle gravely. He took his ability to walk."

She wanted to scream that Uncle Niall had deserved it. She wanted to scream that Conall had to give an oath to serve the Watch for life and could never marry and have a family of his own. She wanted to scream at her father that he had no right to lie and set the course of a man's life to protect her uncle who had deserved what he'd gotten. But she clenched her teeth so hard it made her eyes water, and she nodded. "Of course, I ken, Da. We protect family."

And destroy everyone else.

"How could yer sister have lost her head for man she just met?" her da asked.

Much the same way I've lost my head for Ross.

"She's foolish, Da. I will speak with her. I will make her ken it."

He nodded. "Ye're a good, lass, Grace, and ye sacrificed staying with Errol to bring this missive to me," he said, picking up the missive from the king and breaking the seal. Then he paused and looked at her. "Was Errol vexed that ye did nae stay with him?"

She swallowed her fear. "Errol was vexed because I told him I did nae wish to wed him. I dunnae love him, Da."

"Grace," her father said, her name a reprimand on his lips. He opened the missive, and she could see by the way his eyes moved that he was reading it. The color slowly leeched from his face, and when he looked back up at her, he frowned with cold fury. "Ye will wed Errol." It was said with an unbending finality that took her breath.

"I dunnae love him. Ye vowed to mama that both Arya and I would be allowed to wed for love." Grace had been there by her mother's side before she died and heard her father give the promise to her mother.

"Lass, some vows have to be broken. The king will nae be sending troops to aid yer uncle in fighting off the MacLean attack."

Shock froze her for a moment. "He's nae sending aid?"

"That's right. I believe the king hopes I dunnae win, but he will wait to see who the victor is, then make a move, which means I need ye to wed Errol so that his da will join with us to win this castle and keep the king in check. He thinks to forget all I have done for him."

"Ye would conspire against the king?" she whispered.

"Nay, lass. He is young and foolish, and I mean to remind him to be loyal to those who have been loyal to him. He needs to learn that in order for men to continue to stay faithful, he kinnae strip them of all they have earned."

"But he is the king," she said, her heart thundering.

"Grace, ye will wed Errol, and that is final."

"And if I refuse?"

"Lass, dunnae pit yerself against me. I am nae asking ye to wed a horrid man. I'm asking ye to wed a good one, for me, for our family."

"And if I refuse?" she asked again.

Sadness settled on every line of his face. "Who do ye think the priest in this castle is loyal to, Grace? Me or ye?"

Such anger took hold of her that she could not speak for a moment. "I would hope," she finally said, "that the priest is loyal to his God, and to the vow he made to serve him."

"Aye," her father agreed, "but God dunnae feed the priest, clothe him, protect him. I do." She stared in mute horror at her father. He sighed and said, "Do ye wish to see me diminished? Do ye wish for me to lose land? Power? If I lose, ye lose."

She felt pitched into a turbulent sea, alone and drowning. Her father cared for her, but he cared for his power more. The betrayal cut so deep she bit her lip until it throbbed, simply so she would not scream. Her anguish almost overcame her control, but she swallowed repeatedly, nostrils flaring, as she fought to gain it back. Raw and primitive grief scraped at the wall surrounding her heart, demanding to be let in, but she shoved it back into a shadowy corner to take out later when she was alone, when it was safe.

"Nay, Da," said, surprised at how in control she sounded. She pushed off the desk, legs trembling, but she managed to lock her knees to stand fully upright and not fall. "I'll go speak with Arya." She didn't wait for him to respond. She rushed from the room and made it to the stairs before she burst out crying.

Grace knocked on her sister's bedchamber not long later, having taken just enough time to locate the room Arya had been assigned and get herself under control.

"Aye?" Arya answered from within, sounding unfriendly.

"'Tis Grace. May I come in?" Grace wasn't entirely certain her sister would let her, so when Arya immediately opened the door, relief flooded Grace.

Her sister pulled her into the room, shut the door, and hugged her. "Gracie," she said, burying her face against Grace's neck. Her sister stood that way for a moment, clinging to Grace, and when she finally pulled back she had a guilty look on her face. "I kinnae do this. I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Grace asked, confused.

"We used ye," Arya wailed.

Grace felt her brows pucker together. "Who used me?"

"Me, and Conall, and Ross."

Her sister had called him Ross. Not Brus, but Ross. Nauseating despair knotted Grace's stomach. "What did the three of ye use me for?"

Tears filled her sister's eyes. "To get da to confess about lying to cover up what Uncle Niall did to Conall's sister, so that the king will release Conall from his life service to the Watch."

"He used me," Grace muttered, thinking about Ross.

"Grace," Arya said, her voice gentle, almost like a mother speaking to an upset child. "Ross wanted to tell ye Conall's plan—my plan, but I ken da. He would have seen if ye knew. Ye had to be in the dark, so ye had nothing to hide when ye confronted him as I kenned ye would because yer heart, yer concern for others is that big."

Grace stared dumbfounded as Arya tugged on her, trying to get her to move toward the bed, but shock held her immobile. The room around her seemed to blur for a moment, but she took a few deep breaths and her vision cleared. When it did, she found Arya staring at her with concern, and her sister was no longer holding her hand but had one hand pressed to Grace's back and one on her forearm.

"Are ye all right?" Arya asked.

Was she? Could one die of heartache? Mayhap, but not this day. Finally, she nodded. "When did Ross tell ye?"

Arya frowned, and then her eyes widened. "Oh, nay," she said, the words sounding almost apologetic. "Ross did nae tell me. Conall did. He told Conall, and Conall relayed it to me."

That was such a relief that Grace's knees went momentarily weak, and she thought she might fall where she stood. "I need to sit down."

Arya nodded and quickly helped Grace to the bed. She sat, sinking into the feathers, and her limbs relaxed, becoming instantly heavy with relief. "When did Conall tell ye?"

"When we were riding together as we first set off on the trip. Ross had revealed all to him by then. I'm sorry, Grace. I—"

"Ye care for him greatly," Grace said, shocked she had missed seeing how far her sister had fallen and how quickly. She supposed she'd been so distracted by her own tendre for Ross that she had been oblivious.

"Aye," Arya said, a blush staining her smooth skin. "I do."

And if he had revealed to Arya what Ross had shared with him then that had to mean... "He cares for ye, too."

"He does, but 'tis hopeless unless da will speak the truth of what Uncle Niall did, so the king can be told and persuaded to revoke Conall's vow. Uncle Niall will nae ever damn himself."

That was true. Uncle Niall had always been a man concerned for himself, and his injuries had made that worse. She reached over to her sister, grabbed her hand, and squeezed. She could see the hope wither, but surely it was there, hiding, under the shadows, and they just needed to find some light to shed on it.

"It seems strange to me just how much I do care about Conall, given how short a time I've kenned him," Arya said.

"Nay," Grace replied, understanding completely, and when Arya offered her a sympathetic smile, Grace suspected her sister knew of her growing feelings for Ross.

"He's a good man," Arya said.

"Conall certainly seems to be," she agreed.

Arya grinned. "Nay. I was speaking of Ross, though Conall is a good man, too."

"I... I just kinnae believe this. I thought ye'd be upset if I even hinted that I believed Da could do such a thing."

Arya took her hand and held it. "I was upset. I am upset—shattered actually," she said, releasing Grace's hand to wrap her arms around herself. She gave a little shudder, and Grace stared at her, thinking her sister looked more grown up than she remembered, and even more like their mother with her long, thick lashes and slightly upturned eyes. "Gracie, ever since we kenned Da lied about Leila, I could nae forget it. When Conall told me what Ross's da—Bran—had revealed to him, it was yet another reason to question Da, given what ye and I overheard about Leila and what Conall had told us about his own sister and Uncle Niall. I thought Da might make a confession of sorts to ye about it if he believed I was turning against him, so—"

"Ye used me," Grace said, slightly upset but more astounded. "I did nae have any idea ye were such a plotter." She rubbed at her aching temples.

"Well, I did learn from the best," Arya replied, giving Grace a pointed look.

Grace sighed and nodded. All the nights she plotted for the two of them to sneak out to simply sit under the stars or go to the stables to be with the horses, of her plotting to get them sweet treats from the kitchen or new cloth for gowns. "I dunnae ken why I'm surprised," she said, offering a faint smile. "I did teach ye to be quite the conniver."

Arya took her hand once more. "I'm sorry, Gracie. I could nae think of another way. I had to persuade Conall to go along with my idea, and then he had to persuade Ross."

Grace looked at her, hope blossoming, but she was fearful to allow it.

Arya squeezed her hand. "He wanted to tell ye. Conall told me that he could see physical pain on Ross's face when he agreed to keep the plan from ye, and that gave Conall great hope for Ross, that he may have finally met someone he could trust."

"Truly?" she whispered.

"Nay," Arya said, the word sarcastic. "I made it up just now to make ye feel better."

"Arya!" Grace growled, giving her sister a slight pinch on her arm.

"Grace!" Arya mimicked, then rolled her eyes. "Of course, truly! The man cares for ye, whether he has admitted it to himself or nae."

Grace found herself grinning, and Arya returned her smile. Then Grace thought of their father and all she had discovered, and the moment of levity disappeared under the awful weight of the truth.

She watched as her sister's smile disappeared and a somber expression settled on her face. "Da is nae who we thought," Arya whispered.

Grace nodded. "Nay, he is nae."

"He loves us," Arya added.

"Aye, but—"

"I ken," Arya interrupted. "Believe me, I do. He will use us."

"Aye," Grace confirmed, her stomach roiling. No doubt he had convinced himself it was for their protection, but that was because it suited him to persuade himself of that. She had imagined her father as perfect, and then she had imagined him with one tiny flaw when she had learned he'd lied about Leila, and now she realized he was not the honorable man she had believed he was but a man desperate for power—a man, it seemed, who would do anything to keep it.

Grace frowned and looked down at her lap, picking at a thread on her gown. Had their mother known? She had loved him greatly, so mayhap she'd been blind to the truth or mayhap she'd chosen to overlook it. Mayhap that's why she had demanded he give her the vow on her deathbed that her daughters could wed for love. Mayhap in her gut she'd known he'd use them for his own gain, despite his love for them. She swallowed the large lump in her throat.

"Gracie, what did Da say?"

Grace looked to Arya, who was studying her with the same concerned look as before. "He admitted to covering up Leila for Uncle Niall, and he admitted to lying for him about Conall's sister."

Tears slipped down Arya's face, and Grace's own eyes did the same, tears sliding down her face in warm tracks and dripping from her chin. They sat side by side in silence for a long stretch of time. Grace, for her part, was mourning the loss of the man she had thought was her father and was facing the awful truth that there would come a time, very soon, when she would have to stand against him or betray who she believed herself to be.

"What are we going to do?" Arya asked, acute misery clinging to each word. Her sister had already taken a small stand against their father, Grace knew, but that did not make it easier to know it was not over, to understand there was more betrayal to come. Whether born of good or not, it hurt to inflict pain on a loved one.

Grace swallowed, knowing there were more bad tidings to deliver to her sister. "The king's missive said that he will nae send troops to aid either Uncle Niall or the MacLeans, and that whoever wins the castle is meant to have it."

Arya's lips parted, and her face drained of color. "I want to say the news is horrid," her sister whispered, "but considering what we've learned..."

Grace nodded, understanding what her sister had not voiced. "There's more," she said.

Arya paled even further. "What is it?"

"Da says I have to wed Errol, because he needs the support of Errol's clan to win this battle and teach the king a lesson."

Arya's face contorted, and her eyes blazed. "But he made a vow to Mama!"

"I ken," Grace replied, despair and anger battling inside her.

"Can he force ye to wed, do ye think?"

"Aye," Grace whispered, recalling her father's words about the priest. "I think he can, which means my only choice would be to flee, but I would need somewhere to go, and I dunnae currently have anywhere. I fear if I flee, he'll simply find someone for ye to wed to gain him the ally he needs." She would not have believed a sennight ago that her father would force her or her sister to wed someone they did not love, but now... now she knew that's exactly what he'd do to gain strong alliances.

"I'll flee, too!" Arya cried out. "We'll flee together and go to the king and tell him the truth of Uncle Niall and Conall. Then the king will surely release Conall from his vow, and he and I could be wed, and ye could live with us if ye needed."

Grace laughed through her tears. "Here I thought I was the dreamer, but ye are just as big a dreamer as I am. There are a lot of ‘ifs' in yer plan."

"Aye," Arya said. "But what choice do we have? Stay and be forced to wed men we dunnae love so da may have strong alliances?"

"Nay, that's nae a choice."

Her sister rose with a determined look on her face. Grace grabbed Arya's wrist. "Where are ye going?"

"To free Conall," Arya replied.

Grace tugged her sister back to the bed. "I dunnae think it's going to be as easy as ye believe," she said, thinking upon their father's ire earlier. "I imagine da has Conall well-guarded. Let me talk to Ross first and see what he is going to do, and then we need to make a plan. Ross may nae wish to flee until he has his own confession from da," Grace said, thinking of what she and Ross had spoken of before. She doubted he'd set aside his need for truth and vengeance for her.

"Well then, ye must convince him to leave with us—with ye."

Could she? She sincerely doubted he'd want her more than revenge, if he even truly wanted her at all.

She found Ross on the rampart after much searching. Night had descended, but he stood under the moonlight with two torches flickering on either side of him. He had his sword in hand, and shadows from the fire danced across his strong profile. He stared out into the vast darkness, and she thought he might not have heard her approaching, but just as she opened her mouth to speak, he turned to face her and said, "I am sorry."

She stopped in front of him, close enough to the earthy scent that wafted from him and close enough to feel the heat of his body but not so close that they were touching. She wanted him to reach out to her, take her in his arms, give her some sign she could take hope from. "Arya told me that ye did nae want to lie to me."

"I did nae," he confirmed, his deep voice a rumble from his chest. "Grace, I... I want to trust ye."

Tears sprang to her eyes, and he pulled her to him, enfolding her in his strong embrace. He kissed the top of her head, and she pressed her forehead into his chest. His heart thundered against her skin, revealing just how much courage it had taken for him to say that to her. She looked up at him, and his gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes. She didn't know exactly what he saw there, but he cupped her face gently and brushed his lips to hers. "I'm sorry for ye and yer sister."

That she had even had to utter the words for him to understand, to offer sympathies to her for the loss of the father she'd thought she had, filled her with hope when she needed it most. "He admitted to lying about the kitchen wench and to lying about Uncle Niall attacking Conall's sister."

"I saw as much here," he said, brushing his index finger next to her right eye. "So much sadness is there. I'm sorry that I'm the one that brought it to ye."

It was quiet on the rampart other than the whistle of the night wind and the chirping of the night insects, so his words of comfort filled the space and released the pain she was trying desperately to hold inside her. Tears spilled from her eyes and down her cheeks, and he wiped them away with his fingers, kissing her gently on the lips as he did so. She didn't know how long they stood that way—him whispering it would be all right, and offering only words of comfort when he could have said horrid things, given what her father almost assuredly did to his family, to him. But Ross did not utter one cruel word; he showed her only tenderness. His arms tightened around her, and as her tears dried up, the kisses went from soft and feathery to searching and drugging. His mouth moved over hers, stirring her desire, parting her lips, making her shiver with need.

His kisses made the blood rush from her heart to every part of her body, and she wanted nothing more than to forget where they were, what she had learned, and what stood between them. Then a voice cleared. It was like ice water being thrown on her.

"Yer shift is over," a man said.

Ross broke their embrace, and as he turned, he gently nudged her behind him, shielding her from the guard's view. "Thank ye," he replied.

The man chortled. "Take yer wench to the loch if ye wish for privacy. This is nae the place for loving. If ye were caught by one of the commanders, ye'd be in a fair amount of trouble."

"Thank ye," Ross said, then turned to her and winked. She had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing. He removed the cloak that she presumed had been given to him, threw it over her shoulders and yanked the hood up over her face. He was clever indeed, though she was not overly worried about being seen by anyone she knew. Her da was in the great hall. She knew because she'd glanced in to ensure he was there, and her uncle was likely still in the sick room, but even if he wasn't, she didn't think he'd be out of doors on a cold night like this. He had a real dislike for the cold, as it made his back ache fiercely.

Ross wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and they both brushed past the guard who was taking his place. The warrior, who was busy setting his weapons in order, barely gave her any notice. They walked silently and quickly down the stone steps, across the courtyard, and out the main gate to another set of stairs that led to the loch.

"Ye have learned the way quickly," she said, amazed. The shimmering loch could be seen in the distance, surely they were safe from being overheard.

"'Tis why I eagerly went with yer da's man at his suggestion," he said. "To learn the keep if I had need to escape."

"That must have been hard guarding my uncle's castle when my da invaded yers, even if ye did it for another purpose."

Ross stopped at the stone path that led around a bend of dense trees and faced her. There was just enough moonlight that she could see his eyebrows were raised. "Did yer da admit to that?"

She shook her head. "We did nae speak of it. We did nae get further than what he covered up—" Her voice broke, and a flood of sadness hit her once more. She swallowed and continued. "My sister and I must flee."

Ross nodded, not looking surprised. "To go to the king with yer da's confession?"

She nodded. "Aye, but nae just for that, and beyond why Arya and I must flee, Conall must be cautioned that the king could well nae release him from his vow just because I give my word that my da made this confession. Even if the king believes me, he will do what is best for his political alliances, I think, and if angering my da is nae in the king's best interest, he'll keep his loyalty to my da. But there is hope. The missive from the king to my da said he will nae send troops to either clan warring here. He will wait to see who wins the battle."

Ross smiled grimly. "The king will choose to side with the winner."

She nodded. "Aye, but I do think if he were truly well and pleased with my da, he would side with him now."

Ross stopped at the edge of the loch and turned to her, looking down. "I am sorry. I ken this must be hard for ye and yer sister to see yer da declining in power."

"It's hard," she said, taking a long slow breath, "because he's my da, and I love him, but I will nae turn a blind eye to what he has done. He must pay the price... Mayhap the king feels my da has too much power."

Ross nodded. "I'd say that's a fair assessment."

"Ross, thank ye."

"For what?" he said, sounding surprised.

"For nae gloating or showing glee at the confirmation that my da is nae the honorable man I thought he was."

"Grace," he said, pulling her to him and wrapping his arms around her once more. "Yer pain is nae a cause of celebration for me. If there were a way for a reckoning with yer da without it affecting ye, I'd take it."

She pressed her cheek to his heart, comforted by the steady thump, his solid arms, and his warmth, and something stirred in her. Not desire, but a yearning and a wide opening of her heart. She was falling in love with him. Maybe she had been since the day they'd met.

"Why else must ye and Arya flee?" Ross asked.

She pulled back to look up at him. "My da is trying to force me to wed Errol," she said bluntly. "He needs the aid of Errol's clan to win the battle, and I will nae stay here and be made to wed him. I fear Arya will be next."

Ross's face took on a hard, possessive look, which made her belly clench. "Yer da kinnae wed ye to another," he said, his tone the same as his look.

"I do believe someone forgot to tell my da that," she said, making light because everything she had learned about her father, everything he had done, felt so heavy and awful.

"And I do believe," he replied, his hand slipping to the back of her neck to cup it as the other hand came low to her back, "that yer da needs to be reminded that he entered ye into a betrothal contract with my da years ago, which I now have possession of. And that contract states it kinnae be broken without the agreement of both of our fathers and their signatures."

Her heart leaped at such an alarming rate, she gasped. "What?" They were betrothed? Shock battled with hope, causing her mind to reel. They. Were. Betrothed. "We, we kinnae be." But please God she hoped they could.

"I assure ye, we can, and we are."

His words sent warmth flowing through her, but then questions started to tumble in her head, along with a nagging suspicion. "Why did ye nae tell me?" she asked, her stomach knotting. Neither reason she could think of made her happy. "Is it because ye dunnae wish to be betrothed to me, or because ye intended to use the betrothal somehow so ye did nae wish me to ken, so I'd nae tell my da?"

The guilt that darkened his eyes made her heart ache. "Ye intended to use the betrothal? To use me?"

"Aye and nay," he said, his tone as guilt-ridden as his words.

Her stomach clenched tight, and her mouth went dry, and her vision tunneled for a moment, so that she had to squeeze her eyes shut. When she opened them, Ross was staring at her with obvious concern. "Which is it, Ross? Aye or nay?"

"There was a brief moment when I intended to use ye at my da's urging." She instinctively took a step back from him, and pain slashed across his face.

"Let me finish, Grace."

She nodded. She hoped he said something that did not make her feel so hurt.

"When I discovered who I was and what yer da had done, all I could immediately think upon was discovering the truth and gaining vengeance, so when my da suggested I use the betrothal against yer da—"

"Ye came with the priest in tow to find me," she said, remembering the kiss in the passageway after Ross had seen her kiss Errol, and then the priest stepping out of the shadows and asking her to state her name. "God above," she said on a sharp breath. "Ye were going to trick me into becoming yer wife!"

He shoved his hand through his hair and let out an irritated sigh. "I was going to strengthen our betrothal, but I would nae have sealed it. I would have left ye a way out."

"A way out," she repeated, believing he meant he would not have joined with her, so the marriage could be broken by a priest. "Because ye could nae imagine yerself wed to me." When he did not answer, but stood staring at her, she had the dreadful feeling that's exactly what it was.