Free The Rock by Monica Mccarty Page A

prospect of a rich wife. You’ve made no secret of your ambition. The alliance will elevate your standing among the men and make your path to knighthood much easier. ’Tis a good match. Better than most in your position could hope for—although I suspect your countenance helps. I’ve noticed how popular you are with the lasses.” Thom withheld comment, as there wasn’t much to say about that. Carrick frowned. “Is there another match you hoped to make?”
    Thom shook his head. “Nay, my lord. I am pleased— very pleased,” he added, furious at himself for his reaction. Carrick was right: he should be cheering from the rooftops at his good fortune. Lady Marjorie Rutherford was the widow of a respected knight with significant dower lands on both sides of the border, including this castle near Peebles. For a man in his position, it was a good match—a spectacular match—indeed.
    If the lady herself was a little bold in her advances and reminded him of the feline to which she was so attached (more than her children, he couldn’t help noticing), she was reasonably young, attractive, and, from what he could tell, an excellent chatelaine. Lady Marjorie was more than he could have hoped for.
    He wasn’t a lovesick fool anymore. A broken heart had proved to be a powerful eye-opener, curing him of all his illusions. He knew exactly where he stood, and what he needed to do to move up the ranks. A good marriage—a good alliance —was part of that.
    Elizabeth had taught him well. Thom didn’t think much about the past. He’d moved on. But when he did think of her, it was no longer with anger and hurt. It was no longer a raw, festering wound upon which the slightest touch would make his insides scream in agony. Nay, now it was more of a dull sense of loss and disappointment. A hole in his heart that would never be filled.
    Not that he blamed her. He must have been half-crazed to ever think she would look at him as a potential suitor—even if she had returned his feelings. Elizabeth wasn’t the widow of a minor baron. She was a Douglas . With everything that meant.
    His mouth fell in a tight line. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to put all of his past or all Douglases behind him. It seemed like every time he turned around, he was running into his former friend-now-nemesis or being forced to listen to some tale of whatever amazing feat the Black Douglas had managed on the battlefield. He was damned tired of it.
    Joanna might have forgiven “Sir” James, but Thom wasn’t as forgiving.
    Perhaps the journey to Yorkshire would prove a boon in more ways than one. In England the Black Douglas was feared, not revered, playing more the role of bogeyman than great hero.
    “I will be ready, my lord, and I look forward to escorting Lady Marjorie,” Thom said with much more enthusiasm this time. “You can be assured, I won’t waste this opportunity.”
    Carrick nodded. “Good. Resume your training.”
    A squire ran up and handed a missive to Carrick as Thom started to walk away. He took only a few steps before Carrick called him back. “MacGowan, wait.” He finished reading the piece of parchment and lowered it. “I’m afraid your pretty widow is going to have to wait.”
    “My lord?”
    “It seems Douglas has performed another miracle.” If there was anyone who enjoyed hearing about Douglas’s feats less than Thom, it was Edward Bruce—and perhaps Thomas Randolph. “He’s taken Roxburgh Castle, and we’ve been ordered to help him destroy it.”

4

    A RCHIE CERTAINLY WAS going to have some explaining to do. Elizabeth was exhausted by the time she and Joanna’s brother, Richard, rode through the gate of Roxburgh Castle late the following morning. She dropped off the horse before someone could help her down and winced, putting her hand on the small of her back. The sixteen-year-old scamp had much to atone for, indeed. Not just for her exhaustion, but also for the crick in her back after one of the most horrid