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Robbie smiled. “If that is your wish. I confess, it is my preference, too, but Lady Katherine persuaded me towards a more lenient course. Still…” He raked the other two with cold green eyes. “…is that the decision of all of ye?”
For several moments, there was silence. Then, “Nay, not me.” One of the brothers, the youngest, Robbie thought, shuffled to one side, putting distance between himself and the other two. “I’ll go tae England. Better than the hangman.”
“A wise choice. And you?” Robbie fixed the third man with a glare. “Make up yer mind.”
“How long will it be for?” the man asked, not unreasonably in Robbie’s opinion. “I have a wife an’ a bairn. They need me…”
“Ye should ha’ considered that before ye set about trying’ tae murdermywife. If ye go tae England, ye will never be coming back. Either way, ye’re lost tae them.”
“But—”
“I have nae quarrel wi’ the rest o’ yer kin. They will be provided for. But not by you.”
Robbie waited, his arms folded. He would let them have a moment or two to consider his offer. It did not take long.
“Aye, then. England.” The suddenly conscientious father moved to stand with his younger brother. They both looked to the oldest.
“Fergus?” Robbie prompted. “Which is it tae be? We have no’ the whole day tae wait around for ye? These good folk are gathered for a hanging. If they’re tae be disappointed, well, ’tis only fair tae let them know while they still have time tae make something o’ the day.”
“Ye’d make slaves o’ yer own people? Hand us o’er tae the sassenachs?” Fergus appeared to be struggling to grasp the notion, though it seemed simple enough to Robbie.
“Not people. Traitors. But, yes.” Robbie’s jaw firmed. He had already wasted enough time on these fools. “Decide. Now. Or I shall make the decision for ye.”
“I shall no’ be a slave, workin’ fer them.” He spat on the ground again.
That was good enough for Robbie. “Charles, it seems the crowd are not to be deprived of their entertainment after all. Would ye assist Fergus on his way? As for ye two, ye can watch yer brother dangle from the noose, then return to the cellars until the marquis is ready tae leave.”
Charles, assisted by two guards, grabbed Fergus by the arms and jerked him forward. Driven by fear and desperation, the man put up a decent fight but was no match for the burly soldiers, and further hampered by the fact that his hands were bound. It was the work of moments to propel him up onto one of the barrels, where Rab sliced through his bonds, only to retie his wrists behind him in readiness for what was to come. It never made for a good hanging if the hapless victim was free to claw at his own neck whilst gasping his last.
Keen, it would seem, to get on with his task, Rab clambered up alongside Fergus and slipped the noose over his head, then jumped down to the ground. All that remained was for him to kick the barrel away, then wait until the inevitable writhing and pissing stopped.
It only took one blow from Rab’s boot to convince Fergus of the folly of his choice. “No, dinnae do it. I shall go wi’ the others,” he screamed as his flimsy perch shuddered beneath his feet, his features contorted in rage, hate, and utter terror.
Robbie smiled at him. “Oh, but I was quite sure ye said—”
“I’ll go. I’ll go,” Fergus shrieked. “Just, get me down from ’ere.”
Robbie shrugged and turned away. “Take all three of ’em back to the dungeon,” he said. “We are done here.”
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Two weeks later
Elborne Castle,
Northumberland
Katherine faltered at the sight of so many MacKinnon warriors. They seemed to be in fine spirits, at least, laughing and jostling each other as they thronged around the tiny village chapel. They had accompanied their laird south from Scotland, here to witness his wedding. There had to be dozens, perhaps as many as a hundred, all sporting the now familiar red-and-green tartan. Many of them wore the traditional kilts so popular north of the border. Katherine was not sure that this attire was entirely decent, but she supposed she must become accustomed to such eccentricities, along with a great deal else once she moved to Roxburghe.
This was to be her final day at Elborne, the keep where she had been born and lived her entire life. Today, she would be wed. Her husband would be anxious to return to his responsibilities as leader of his clan, so tomorrow she would leave here to take up residence in her new home as the countess of Roxburghe and wife to Robert MacKinnon.
She should be happy, and perhaps a little sad. She could summon up neither. She was too racked with nerves to make space for any other emotion.
She was not afraid of the Scots, not really. To a man, these warriors were all loyal to her husband-to-be, and that deference would extend to her. Certainly, these MacKinnons all seemed affable enough, though none were mixing with the English villagers who had assembled to dance and feast at their own lord’s wedding and wish their lady well for her future journey in life.
Katherine was not the only bride this morning. Flora walked beside her, clad in her finest gown just as Katherine was, ready to meet her future husband at the doors to the chapel. But her face was radiant. She adored Stephen and could not have been happier. Katherine envied her her certainty regarding what her future as the marchioness of Otterburn would hold. For her own part, she was nowhere near as sure.
Robbie liked her. He cared for her, she was sure of that. And, he had shown he would protect and defend her when such was called for. But he could not be at her side all the time. What if someone else decided to…?
