The Viper (Highland Guard #4)(73)

The absurdity of the situation was not lost on him; this day had taken on farcically disastrous proportions.

The crowd, startled by the sudden disturbance, started to chuckle. With him sprawled out in the dirt, covered in egg and hay, he didn’t need to wonder why.

He pretended to wobble as he tried to get to his feet. “Sorry about that.” He slurred his words slightly, hoping to give the impression that he was still drunk from a night of merrymaking.

But the farmer was no longer looking at him. Lachlan heard a few furious squawks, and a few seconds later: “Me cock!” the even more agitated farmer cried, pushing through the crowd after his fleeing bird. “Where’s me cock?”

“It’s the small, wiggly thing above your bollocks,” a woman in the crowd yelled.

It was perfect. The crowd started laughing harder, exchanging a string of ribald jests at the poor farmer’s expense.

But Lachlan wasn’t taking any chances. He struggled to his feet again, this time going down hard on the wood frame of the temporary pen. The hens scattered. The people standing nearby rushed to try to capture them, and the crowd broke apart in disarray. The villagers who had carefully lined the street now flooded it.

Lachlan pretended to be dazed as he finally got to his feet. A woman nearby took his arm to steady him. He glanced in the direction he’d last seen Bella and Seton, but they were gone, having slipped away in the chaos.

Fortunately, Comyn didn’t seem to have noticed. He and the rest of Despenser’s party had moved out of the way to avoid the onslaught of clacking poultry. Lachlan didn’t wait to see what would happen when order was finally restored.

Mumbling thanks to the woman who’d helped him stand, he thrust a few coins in her hand. “For the eggs,” he said.

Then he did what he did best: He slipped away.

Or so he thought.

Fourteen

They rode north, pushing hard to evade pursuit in the event anyone decided to come after them. But each time one of the men returned from scouting, they found no sign that they were being followed. It appeared they’d gotten away.

They were lucky, and Bella knew it. She’d never imagined, never intended anyone but her daughter to see the rose. It was only a decoration for a gown—nothing that should have drawn so much attention.

Her shoulders slumped. It was useless. There was no excuse she could conjure up that would make what she’d done anything less than foolhardy, risking not only her life but Lachlan’s and Alex’s as well.

They were furious with her. As they had every right to be.

And what had she accomplished? All she’d done was force herself to stand witness to her daughter’s very public repudiation of her.

“Nothing that means anything anymore.” It seemed as if the words had been aimed right at her, every one an arrow to the heart.

There had to be some explanation. She didn’t want to—couldn’t—accept that she’d lost her daughter. That one act in crowning Bruce had already cost her so much. It couldn’t cost her Joan.

Bella had wanted to do something important. To take a stand for something she’d believed in. To do her duty for her clan and country. Was it so wrong? Had her lofty ideals not been tested enough? Must they cost her everything?

Maybe Joan hadn’t meant it. Maybe it was all a show to prove her loyalty to her uncle, and the man Bella had learned was Sir Hugh Despenser, presumably her new guardian.

But it hadn’t seemed like a show. It had seemed quite real.

Not until she saw her daughter face-to-face would she know the truth. But how was she going to manage that?

He gaze fell on Lachlan. Actually, as he was riding ahead of her, it fell on his back. He could help her. Not that she’d think of asking him. He was so angry he would barely even look at her. Each time she’d tried to speak to him, he’d given her a harsh monosyllabic response and coldly turned away. The closeness she’d felt when riding with him was long forgotten. She contemplated sliding off her horse so he would order her to ride with him again.

Sir Alex wasn’t much better—especially after she’d witnessed the heated exchange between him and Lachlan on their first stop to water the horses. From the looks of it, Lachlan had given him a tongue lashing the young warrior would not soon forget. Sir Alex had stood there silently, face red with anger, taking every blow without one word of defense. Only Robbie Boyd spoke to her in full sentences, but even he seemed disappointed in her.

It made for a long, uncomfortable, and lonely journey. They must have traveled twenty miles since leaving Roxburgh. The once promising day had turned to darkness a few hours ago.

When Lachlan finally called for them to halt, Bella could barely sit upright in the saddle. The events of the morning, the hard riding, the lack of sleep, and hunger had caught up to her.

They’d stopped in a grassy clearing at the base of a small brae. Though it was dark, she could make out a burn in the moonlight, running down the hill toward the River Tweed, which was just behind them. She was most surprised, however to smell the heavy scent of peat smoke in the soft breeze.

When Lachlan helped her down from her horse, despite the harsh set of his mouth, she ventured another question. “Where are we?”

“Peebles.”

Her eyes widened. They had traveled some distance. Peebles was a royal burgh a little over twenty miles south of Edinburgh. They were nearly out of the Marches, but this part of Scotland was still under English control. Peebles Castle was sure to be garrisoned by King Edward’s soldiers. Until now, they’d carefully avoided towns and villages of all sizes.