Chapter Twenty-Seven

"G od's very bones," Lennox said, look towards the glen. "Is that your lady?"

"Where?" Duncan turned with Lilias in his arms; the girl had hurt her ankle and needed aid. He saw Margaret crossing the moor at a fair pace, her coppery hair bright in the pale light. "What is she doing here?"

"Looking for you, most like, and our wee princess."

"I am not a princess," Lilias insisted.

"You are a princess to me, and precious too," Lennox said. "Look there, that rascal De Soulis is riding to meet her."

Duncan swore under his breath. "I have to get down there. Take Lady Lilias back to Brechlinn." He handed the girl into Lennox's arms. "Go with the earl. He will take you to safety."

"Are you going to fetch Margaret Keith?" she asked. "Was she captured too?"

"She was safe with me, lass. I will make sure she stays that way."

"That man was with Sir John," she said.

"You saw him with John Menteith?"

"Aye. Sir John has our knights too, but they took them to a castle called Dunbarton. I heard them say so. Sir Hugh, Sir Quentin, and others are there."

"Excellent lass! Get her out of here, Lennox."

"Come, love. Sir Duncan will see to Lady Margaret and I will take you to safety," Lennox said. "And I will head back with as many men as we can muster. Duncan!" he called. "Is that your brother there?"

Turning, Duncan shaded his eyes. "Iain! And Andrew Murray behind him! They must have come out to find us. Take the lass and Andrew too, and send Iain to me. We will see to Margaret—and De Soulis."

He watched them go, the slight tousled-haired girl and the giant of a man who cradled her as he walked over the rocks.

Turning, Duncan moved carefully, stealthily, then hunkered down behind a cluster of boulders and saplings. Beyond the gorge and the trees, he saw Margaret pause to wait as De Soulis rode toward her.

What did she intend by this? He knew in his deepest heart that she was his, part of him now as he was part of her. There was no going back from that, no betrayal ever possible.

And yet she waited for De Soulis. The knight stopped, spoke to her from the height of his saddle. As Margaret stepped to the side, he angled his horse to face her, his back to the falls.

Ah. Duncan understood. She realized that he, Malcolm, and Lilias were nearby, and she meant to distract De Soulis from seeing them. She was giving them a chance to escape. Brave, wild, impulsive lass. His own wild, powerful need to protect her surged within him.

Wary and watchful, he set a hand to the dagger sheathed at his belt and shifted the bow on his shoulder. Hunched, he edged over the rocks, behind trees, closer to the moor. The air was chill, moist, filled with the pounding roar of the falls behind him. He watched the bright-haired lass and judged what next to do.

Hearing a low whistle, he glanced back. His brother crouched and came toward him.

"Sir William," Margaret said, "I have a message for you." But not the one you want , she thought, sliding a glance behind De Soulis over the rumpled moor to the gorge. Where crooked trees thrust upward, she saw movement, a man crouched and dropping down behind the rocks.

She smiled, keeping the knight's attention on her. Dropping back her hood, she showed him her braided hair with the maiden's ribbon adorning it. She had to mislead him to help Duncan and the others get Lilias to safety.

"You bring news to treasure, I hope."

She craned her head, uncomfortably aware of the huge white charger, too aware the man could pluck her up like a rag doll and carry her off. "Treasure! You did promise to return my brooch." She saw it winking blue and silver on his cloak.

He covered it with a leather-gloved hand. "First, your promise to me. You want the pin, I want our betrothal fixed again. A mistake we can correct."

"But I am betrothed to Sir Duncan."

He waved a hand. "You will benefit more marrying a De Soulis than a Campbell. Edward punishes those who support Bruce, as I suspect he does. I mean to prove it. But now, I want to know why this gewgaw is so important to you." He tapped the pin.

"It was a gift from my grandfather."

"Thomas the Rhymer." He nodded. "I know he willed some valuable items to his Keith kin. So this is one of those things."

"Kin often leave valuables to their heirs. But how did you know?"

"Your father listed some of your inheritance in our letter of betrothal. I went to the sheriff of Selkirk to confirm it, since he retains copies of local wills. You were given a pin and a pendant. Small things. But their real worth was in belonging to True Thomas. Is it enchanted, this thing? It looks like a seeing-stone."

Her heart pounded. "It is only precious to me and my family. Nothing more."

"Was it a gift from the queen of faery? Some would think it foolish or even of the devil. But I find it intriguing."

She had a terrible sense, a twisting in her gut that told her to flee. She stood firm. "Why would that interest you?"

"My own kin dabble in such things. My uncle, Walter de Soulis, whom I greatly admired, was interested in dark and magical matters. Last year, Walter was slain by treacherous Scots. I inherited some of his property. Magical armor, for one. But he did not have this," he said, tapping the brooch again. "Now I do."

She tried to laugh. "It is just a simple reminder of my Grandda. Give it back."

"It does look like a seeing-stone. I looked through it but it would not show me anything. I have a feeling you can do that." He leaned down. "Surely he taught you."

"Give it to me—and I will show you." She said it on impulse. That would put it in her hands. Then perhaps she could run from him, get away with the others.

"So you do know!" he crowed, unfastening the hook. "Look through it, then. But I want your promise first." He held it out, snatching it away as she reached for it. "Promise to betroth. Promise to marry." He dangled the pin.

"I promise." I promise to marry Duncan , she thought, to make it the truth.

"Say you are mine always," he hissed, waggling the pin. Its translucent crystal stone glittered blue as the sky. Blue as Duncan's eyes.

"Always," she said, thinking of the one she loved. "Give it here."

He relinquished it. "Go on. Show me what this gewgaw does. But do not think to run." He reached down and grabbed one of her long braids, winding it around his hand like a leash. Trapped, she winced, unable to step away.

Her head was forcible tilted. "Let go!"

"Tell me what you see there." He tugged on the braid.

"I cannot do that now. It takes calm to see through a stone."

"I am calm. Look there!"

She held the stone up to her left eye, hand trembling. She saw a shaky landscape of trees, rocks, the river. Then she realized she could invent something to please him, then keep the brooch and run.

"I see—knights." She looked at trees and rocks. "I see—a proud man in armor. You. A man of power."

"Go on."

"A man who—"

But in that instant, the trees and rocks vanished—so did the white horse and the man cruelly pulling on her braid.

She saw De Soulis through the opening in the stone. He was older, gray-haired, in black tunic and boots. Wrists in ropes, head bowed. He faced a man—Bruce? She had seen Bruce, remembered the high cheekbones he shared with his daughter; he had a bold chin, a thin mouth, keen dark eyes. Here he wore a thin gold fillet on his brow. He was king. A woman was there too, a dark-haired beauty, pale and slim in the black gown and white veil of a widow or a nun. Lilias.

Traitor , Bruce said. She heard the words in her mind. Forgiven.

"Do not betray your king." She spoke, surprising herself. "Support him. Be loyal. Do not betray your king."

"I support Edward," he said, but his face went white. "What is it?"

"I see you with Bruce. His daughter, grown. You will have a chance for forgiveness. Take it."

"Give me that," he said, reaching down to snatch at the brooch, but she tucked it quickly into her snug gray sleeve. "You lie!"

"I saw it." She felt stunned by how easily the images came to her. The blue truth stone was powerful. She did not doubt anything that she had seen.

"Foolish woman," he snarled. "Give me that. I will have to do this myself. I cannot trust you."

"It is the truth."

"Sir William!" a voice bellowed. Hearing pounding hooves, Margaret turned, her head restrained as De Soulis tugging on her hair.

He let go of the braid to reach toward her. "Give it here!"

" William! " The voice roared.

De Soulis turned. Margaret stepped away—then stopped, staring. A party of knights rode toward them out of the long glen. Three men, with the leader broad-chested and scowling in chain mail and a brash yellow surcoat. Menteith, recovered enough to ride.

She backed away, poised to run. De Soulis shifted his horse to block her.

"Stay, you! Damn it, I told him I would take care of this matter," he muttered.

"Take care of what?" she asked.

"A girl slipped away from his castle. He wants her back. It is not important."

"Who is this?" Menteith demanded, riding up. "This is not Lady Elisabeth! You have the wrong one. Who are you, girl!" He reined his horse in beside De Soulis and glared at her.

She moved again, and De Soulis angled his horse again, a hoof nearly trampling her foot.

"This is Lady Margaret Keith," De Soulis said. "My betrothed, sir."

"Keith! One of the Kincraig Keiths? What do you mean, betrothed?"

"I am Margaret Keith. But he is not my betrothed." She lifted her chin. "I will leave the two of you to your business." As she moved aside again, De Soulis swung his horse around, the broad rump nearly knocking her over. He leaned down and grabbed the front of her gown, his strong grip taking a great fistful of gown and cloak.

"You are coming with me." He hauled her up, and though she tried to writhe out of his powerful grip, he dragged her over his saddle and planted her in front of him painfully. She fell across him and was trapped by his steel-covered arm.

The brooch! But she felt its pinch inside her sleeve. She still had it.

"William, what the hell are you doing?" Menteith snarled.

"Keeping her with me. We had a lovers' quarrel."

Menteith huffed. "You are here for a far more important matter. Did you find her?"

"Not yet, sir."

"Do you mean Lady Elisabeth?" Margaret snapped. She prayed Duncan and the others were gone, but she would delay these fellows as long as she could.

"What!" Menteith and De Soulis said together.

"I was with the party escorting Lady Elisabeth when she was taken. Your men killed some of our knights and captured others. But I got away."

"I know nothing of this," Menteith said.

"You do. Your men did it all on your order. Why?"

"Accusing a sheriff unfairly will bring you dire punishment, girl. Be careful what you say. You have no proof of this."

"The brooch that was stolen from me that day is my proof," she said. "You had it at the archery contest, but when Duncan Campbell did not claim it, you gave it to William de Soulis."

"You wanted that thing so you could accuse Sir John!" De Soulis shook her so hard that she grappled for balance, nearly falling. But she might be able to slide down and get away, she thought. She had done it before.

"Those lies will land you in a kettle of trouble!"

"I was there on the archery field. How is your foot, Sir John?"

" You! " he roared. "I knew I had seen you before—a redhaired girl was in the village with a lad. That boy must be the one who shot me! Where is he?"

"He did not shoot you. But that wound gave others time to find Lady Elisabeth." She pushed against De Soulis.

"Who found her? Where is she?" Menteith demanded.

"Give me that brooch!" De Soulis barked.

"William, shut up! That can wait," Menteith snapped. "Look over there! Someone is near the waterfall. Go after him, you fool!"

De Soulis obeyed, spurring his horse with Margaret clinging in his lap. Menteith shouted and the knights followed, Menteith as well, barreling toward the gorge.

Jostled on the horse, Margaret feared they had seen Duncan, perhaps the others. Bounced mercilessly, she clung until De Soulis slowed his horse when he could ride no closer. They had come to a barrier wall of rugged bedrock and tangled trees edging a channel of rushing water.

Reining in, De Soulis pushed Margaret out of his way as he dismounted, so that she fell hard to earth, stunned, crawling to hands and knees. He thumped to the ground beside her and yanked her to her feet.

"Come with me," he growled, dragging her across the turf and up a jumble of slate and stone and tree trunks. Below, the narrow river hurtled in cataracts toward the falls that roared not a hundred feet to the left. The sound was immense, the air filled with moisture. As she struggled on slippery, moss-covered rocks, she looked up.

And saw Duncan and Iain step out from a screen of trees just where the river swirled to pour over the cliff as the waterfall torrent. Duncan stepped forward, but stopped as his brother grabbed his arm in warning. Even across the distance, Margaret felt Duncan's gaze meet hers and hold.

That glance fortified her. She pulled in a breath and straightened. Then she kicked De Soulis, trying to escape his grasp. He ignored her, hauling her along as he climbed. Glancing back, she saw Menteith and some of his men just reaching the gorge on foot. Sir John was clumsy and slow, hampered by his injured foot.

De Soulis dragged her toward the falls and the two men who stood near it. She stumbled again on slick stones. De Soulis yanked her up savagely, wrenching her arm and shoulder.

At that, Duncan moved forward again and set a foot on a stone. Then he took the bow from his shoulder, reached for an arrow, and nocked it.

"De Soulis! Let her go!" His shout was nearly drowned by the water's roar.

"Duncan!" she screamed. De Soulis pulled her hard against him. Above, a sudden motion caught her eye. She looked up.

A white falcon glided over the treetops lining the other side of the river.