The Hawk (Highland Guard #2)(119)

She mimicked his unrepentant grin. “I thought you deserved a little penance for what you put me through.”

His mouth twisted. Perhaps he did.

She bit her lip, apparently considering something she hadn’t before. “I know you said you left a note, but I hope my disappearance doesn’t cause them to stop the wedding.”

“I don’t think it will. This Matty, does she by chance have big blue eyes and long, wavy blond hair?”

She nodded. “You know her?”

“We met this morning.”

It was her turn to be shocked.

“I didn’t know which window was yours.” He gave a boyish shrug. “I picked the wrong one. At first I thought she was going to scream, but then she smiled and told me it took me long enough. She asked me if I intended to marry you, and when I said I did, she pointed me in the right direction.”

Ellie laughed. “That sounds like Matty.”

She nuzzled her cheek to his chest contentedly. He could feel her fingertip tracing the mark on his arm and wasn’t surprised when she said, “It looks different. This pattern that goes all the way around your arm like a torque wasn’t here before. It looks like a …” She looked up at him and smiled. “It’s a spiderweb! Because of the story you told me?”

He dropped a kiss on her nose. “You are far too observant.”

She ran her finger over it again. “And that looks like a birlinn in the web.” Aye, that had been in his idea. “I should have realized what the markings meant before: the rampant lion is the symbol of Scotland’s kingship,” she said. “But it signifies something else, doesn’t it?” He didn’t say anything. “It’s the reason you keep your identity secret. You and that man at camp—you’re part of the band of phantom warriors I’ve heard about.”

“Ellie …” He shook his head. Secrets, it seemed, were going to be difficult around her. “You make it difficult for a man to keep his vow.”

She grinned. “You didn’t tell me anything, I guessed.” She eyed him slyly. “But if I’m going to marry you, I think I deserve to know one thing.”

He arched a brow. “What’s that?”

“My new name.”

He laughed and kissed her. “So does that mean you’ll marry me?”

“I’m still thinking.”

“Hmm. Did I mention that I own at least a dozen islands?”

Her eyes sparked with excitement. “You do?”

He nodded. “I might be persuaded to show them to you.” His expression turned serious. “Marry me, Ellie. I’ll take you wherever you want to go. I’ll show you the world. Just say you’ll be my wife.”

“Aye,” she said softly, her eyes glistening with tears. “I’ll marry you.”

He hugged her tight, half-tempted to take her to the church right now—before she could change her mind. But he knew his mother and sisters would never forgive him. He tipped her chin and kissed her tenderly. “It’s MacSorley.”

She let out a gurgle of laughter, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Son of the summer traveler. I should have guessed. You really are a pirate.”

He laughed, took her in his arms, and showed her just how ruthless a pirate could be. Over and over.

Epilogue

July 7, 1307

Robert Bruce, King of Scotland, was sitting with the ten members of the Highland Guard in his temporary war room in the Great Hall of Carrick Castle when the messenger arrived.

Now that Hawk had returned—married, and from the satisfied grin on his face, back to himself—only one of the elite warriors was missing. Not missing, he corrected, planted like a seed deep in the heart of his enemy, ready to take root when the time had come.

Bruce motioned the man forward.

“For you, sire.” He bowed, handing him the piece of parchment. “From Burgh-on-Sands.”

Bruce frowned, wondering if this was the news they’d been waiting for. Edward had mustered his men in Carlisle a few days ago and was reported to have raised himself from his sickbed once more to lead the march on Bruce.

He opened the missive, scanned the three words, and fell back in his chair.

“What is it?” MacLeod asked. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Bruce gazed at him in stunned disbelief. “Perhaps I have. But this is a ghost I’m happy to see.” He looked around the room, elation slowly building inside him to replace the shock. “He’s dead.” He laughed, it finally sinking in that his old nemesis was gone. “Send out the word to ring every church bell from coast to coast. King Edward has gone to the bloody devil!”

The men exploded in triumphant cheers. They would not show pity for the man in death who’d shown so little mercy to them in life. The self-styled “Hammer of the Scots” had gone to hell where he belonged, taking his dreaded dragon banner along with him.

He knew that with Edward Plantagenet’s death, the tide had turned once more from England back to Scotland. To the enemies within. Instead of Edward, Bruce would be facing his own countrymen across the battlefield: the murderous MacDowells in the south who’d killed his brothers, and his old enemies in the north, the Comyns and the MacDougalls.

He smiled. The seed he’d planted was about to take root.