Page 55 of A Forbidden Night with a Scot
“What will I dae, Samuel?” he asked. “How will I go against the king? All this time, I’ve been tryin’ tae find a solution tae this an’ I have found naething. Naething at all. I wish there was somethin’ I could dae but the more I think about it, the more I realise there is naething tae be done.”
Gavin cycled through rage, despair, and acceptance within mere moments, before finally sagging against the wall, looking like a broken man. Though Samuel had been preparing himself for a confrontation, he couldn’t bring himself to confess the truth to Gavin now. He couldn’t look him in the eye and tell him something that could destroy him even further.
Besides, Gavin looked rather unwell when the redness in his face subsided, giving way to a sickly paleness. Even as hewas propped against the wall, he was swaying as though he could hardly keep himself upright and Samuel reached for him, steadying him with his hands on his shoulders.
What could he tell him? How could he promise him they would find a way out of this when the only way he could think of was marrying Alicia himself?
As much as he knew he had to have this conversation, and soon, he simply didn’t think this was the right time. Gavin was already upset by the letter and needed to rest before his health deteriorated, and so Samuel only pulled him along, guiding him to his chambers.
“We will find a way,” he promised him, guilt gnawing at him at the mere thought of what that way would be. “Ye must rest now. Ye cannae help Alicia if ye’re nae well.”
“How dae ye expect me tae rest?” Gavin asked, but he didn’t try to argue any further as Samuel dragged him to his rooms, which was a testament to how much pain he must have been feeling. Under any other circumstances, Samuel was certain Gavin would have tried to fight not only him, but everyone else who stood in his way.
He was not the same man as the one who gave Emmeline’s hand to Burchard Macfie. That man had been younger, meeker, more cautious. Losing Emmeline had changed him in a way nothing else could, and now Samuel feared that for all he seemed to be treading lightly when it came to Laird MacTavish and the king,he was on the verge of marching over to them both and declaring a war.
“Try, at least,” said Samuel, urging him into his chambers. “Ye will feel better once ye have rested an’ then we can speak.”
An’ I can tell ye the truth, even if I dinnae wish tae hurt ye.
Sighing as he nodded, Gavin shuffled into the room and Samuel closed the door, letting him have some peace before he revealed the truth to him. For a moment, he stood by the door, breathing deeply as he tried to compose himself; to keep the panic at bay.
Time was running out for him and Alicia. Samuel knew precisely what it was he had to do, but so far, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. The more he postponed it, though, the more likely it was that she would be sent off to marry Laird MacTavish, and then Samuel would regret his reluctance to act for the rest of his days.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The study was quiet, no one there but Samuel, who found it impossible to go to bed, even at that late hour. The sun had set hours prior and the castle had been plunged into darkness, his study illuminated by nothing but the fire that burned in the fireplace, as he had neglected to light any candles and had not allowed any maids inside.
He wanted to be alone. He didn’t want to see anyone for a while, and the darkness of the room offered him some perceived safety, as though he could hide for a while behind those four walls. It was an illusion, but one that brought him comfort, and one he hoped would last for a while longer.
The room seemed transformed in the darkness, shadows looming in its corners. There was something cozy, though, about the incandescence of the fire, the warm, orange glow of the wood as it crackled and burned, the scent of oak that suffused the air around him. Samuel sipped slowly on his wine, as he stared at the flames, almost hypnotized by their swaying movements in the dark.
And then, just as his mind was emptying of thoughts, a bell rang, the sound cracking through the night air.
An attack!
Samuel shot out of his chair, slamming his cup on the desk with such force that half of the wine spilled on the surface. He rushed to the window, gazing at the walls to see where the attack was coming from, but he could see no enemy force. All he could see were a few men gathered close to the gates and more of them arriving by the second.
There may have been no attack—not yet at least—but something had happened, Samuel knew, and so he grabbed his coat before rushing out of the room and down the stairs to the courtyard. He had hardly made it to the doors, though, when Nerian all but slammed into him, his hands flying out to steady them both.
“What happened?” Samuel asked.
“I dinnae ken,” said Nerian. “I was headin’ there now meself.”
Nodding, Samuel continued on his path to the gates, Nerian following close behind. Once there, he saw a large group of soldiers gathered around a small opening, and when he pushed his way through, the crowd parting easily for him, he saw that one of his soldiers was dead.
No, not dead, Samuel thought. Killed.
“What happened here?” Samuel demanded, but no one spoke. “Does nae one ken? Did nae one see anythin’?”
One of the soldiers, a young man with nervous eyes, stepped forward and out of the circle of men, though not without some hesitation. “Arran was patrollin’ the perimeter, me laird,” he said. “Cameron was meant tae be with him, but we dinnae ken where he is. We fear… we fear somethin’ may have happened tae him.”
Samuel looked at Arran’s body, pale and waxen, and his stomach churned at the thought of what had happened to him and what might have happened to his partner. It never became any easier, seeing his men lying dead on the ground. Every corpse was like the first one, every man just as big of a loss as the one before him, regardless of rank.
“Sword,” Samuel ordered, holding out his hand, and the soldier gave him his quickly before stepping back once more. “Nerian, we’ll patrol the perimeter. Everyone else, scatter out. I want ye tae search every part o’ this castle an’ every part outside it as far as the loch.”
At his orders, the men dispersed, forming groups of four or five as they left to conduct their searches. Nerian approached, his own sword in his hand as the two of them walked through the gates, Samuel grabbing a torch from the wall before they went too far out.
“Right outside our walls,” Samuel said bitterly, through clenched teeth. “This is MacLaine’s doin’. I ken it.”
