Plead Forgiveness (Loyalty Series) Read online

  Plead Forgiveness

  AURY DOBSYN

  I dedicate this book to my parents, who not only gave me unconditional love and constant encouragement; they gave me the wisdom and strength to follow my dreams.

  Plead Forgiveness

  Aury Dobsyn

  Copyright © 2012 Aury Dobsyn

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or

  stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN 10 147839708X

  ISBN 13 9781478397083

  Printed in the United States of America

  Book Design by Stephen Zadrozny

  Prologue

  ENGLAND 1228

  “Oh, Mama, what a beautiful burn!” Isabel exclaimed, completely enchanted by England, the land of her mother’s birth. “Can we stop to swim afore continuing on to Greystone? We have been traveling for days in this brutal heat, and we are nae far from Aunt Eleanor’s home.”

  “Aye, Isabel,” Emma said with a chuckle, unable to deny her youngest child the small request. “But, nae dawdling. I am anxious to see my sister.”

  A wide grin took shape as she watched her only daughter strip down to her chemise and dive into the water. At ten summers, Isabel was a complete tomboy, which was due to having with three older brothers. However, she was a beautiful child, who promised to be a stunning woman in the years to come.

  With her mother’s emerald eyes, her father’s charismatic smile, and the blonde hair she inherited from both her parents, Isabel was the pride of the Mackenzie Clan. However, it was not her bonny appearance that made her so special; it was her pure heart, generous nature and limitless energy.

  Emma was especially proud of her daughter’s insatiable thirst for knowledge and ingenuity in the healing arts. Being well educated and a healer herself, she cherished the time spent with her daughter and bestowing the wisdom upon she valued so highly.

  After swimming the length of the burn and back, Isabel took hold of her mother’s feet as they dangled in the water. “Mama, tell me how ye and Papa met.”

  “You have heard this story a hundred times,” Emma said affectionately.

  “Please, Mama. I forget.”

  “Very well,” she conceded, “but you will have to be content with the short version.” Her daughter vigorously nodded.

  “Eleven years ago I was kidnapped by the most feared warrior in the land, Laird Alex Mackenzie. He was a Highlander reputed to be merciless on and off the battlefield. He also vehemently loathed the English. Yet, despite this animosity, he abducted me in hopes I would be able to cure his beloved son who had fallen gravely ill.”

  “Even at ten and eight, ye were well sought after for yer healing skills in both England and Scotland,” Isabel added.

  “Aye, but many believed the boy would die before a healer could be brought to their home in the highlands. However, your father refused to give up on his child. Against the wishes of his clan and neighboring clans, he set aside his hatred and pride all for the love of his son.”

  “’Tis why ye fell in love with him,” Isabel offered.

  “’Aye, ‘tis one of the many reasons I fell in love him.”

  “And Papa fell in love with ye because ye saved his son’s life?”

  “That is a question you should ask your papa when he arrives. Now, where was I?”

  With youthful delight, Isabel said, “Ye married papa soon after arriving in the highlands, and without the approval of yer father or King Henry.”

  “Aye, but Scotland and England had just signed a Peace Treaty, and both kings acknowledged that our marriage would help unite the two countries.”

  “But even if the king had nae agreed to the match, papa and my brothers wouldnae let ye go.”

  Emma sighed with contentment thinking about those glorious days with Alex and his three sons. From the moment she met the lads, they had captured her heart along with their father. Alex Mackenzie was a widow whose first wife had died giving birth to their third son.

  “Nae, lass, it was I who would not let them go,” Emma stated.

  “How old were my brothers when ye met them?”

  “Keir had just turned eight, Guy was five and Hamon was only two summers. Now my wee boys are 11 years older.”

  “Mama, they are nae wee boys, but verra large men,” Isabel giggled. “At least Keir and Guy are verra large men.”

  “Hamon will be just as large as his brothers, you wait and see,” Emma lovingly chided.

  “Ye really ought to come join me, Mama.” With a mischievous grin across her face, Isabel continued, “Remember when I was younger and ye dove in the water to save me, not kenning the boys already taught me to swim.”

  "What I remember is that my daughter of only five summers jumped into the loch without her brothers or father,” Emma admonished as she slipped into the icy water. “Do you know that my heart stopped beating when I caught sight of you in the water with nobody around but me. And I was deathly afraid of the water.” She tried to pull off a fierce scowl so her daughter would know how frightened she had been.

  "Mama, ye were so magnificent that day. Everybody says so. I ne’er kenned ye could run so fast," Isabel said trying to appease her mother. "Ye towed me out of the water with such haste, I dinna even think ye realized that you swam for the first time in your life. At least until Papa came."

  "Aye, I remember screaming like a banshee until your father told me the boys had taught you to swim, and that you weren’t in danger. I was so furious with them,” Emma said with conviction. "I should have been told, but your father and brothers seemed to think I would worry myself sick."

  "Ye would have, and we so hoped to surprise ye. Papa thought if I learned, ye would want to do the same.” Isabel put her arms around her mother’s waist and pulled her further into the water.

  "Aye, and I did with nae help from your father or brothers."

  "Just me, right Mama?”

  "Aye, just you. Twas nae how I would have wished to learn to swim, but it proved to be quite effective.”

  Using the pet name her father bestowed upon their daughter since the time she was a babe, Emma asked, “Bella, do you know how special you are to me?"

  With her legs around her mother’s waist and head on her shoulder, Isabel said with assurance, “I ken ye love me with all yer heart, just as I love ye. Other girls’ mamas dinna talk or play with their daughters, only give them orders, but ye teach me how to heal people and animals. I will be a great healer like ye someday.” Her youthful voice was filled with adoration.

  “You have your father’s silver tongue,” Emma acknowledged as she tightened her arms around her daughter. “However, you speak the truth. I do love you, more than my own life in fact. I have taught you skills that will be very useful in the years ahead. The healing arts as well as reading and riding are all skills you seemed to excel at, as did I when I was your age.

  "How did ye learn to ride so well?"

  "My father firmly believes that daily exercise reduces physical ailments, so he insisted I ride daily ."

  “Who taught ye how to use the bow?"

  "The same person who taught you."

  "Papa?"

  Chuckling, she explained, "Aye, he was a patient teacher and . . ."

  Emma stopped suddenly, and then dashed to the bank of the stream, carrying her daughter protectively in her arms.

  "Isabel, you must stay here and hide,” Emma said with fear evident in her voice. “Where’s your dagger?"

  "’Tis in my boot. Mama, are we in danger?"
<
br />   "I pray not, but we must use caution." Emma raced to retrieve their clothes and the dagger. “Dress with haste, sweetling.”

  Struggling to put her dress on over her wet chemise, Isabel cried, "Mama, please tell me-"

  Emma pulled her daughter into her arms and said, “You, your father, and your brothers have made my life complete. I love you all, and that will never change.”

  "Mama, why are ye telling me this? Ye sound as if . . . Mama?"

  Emma quickly kissed her daughter’s tear streaked face and said, “I only tell you what is in my heart. Now, listen well. You must stay here behind this boulder until I am out of sight, and then make haste to Westshire Abby. We passed it naught an hour ago. Can you do that for me, my love?"

  Isabel solemnly nodded her head, sensing the import of this conversation. When her mother started to walk away, she cried out, "I love ye, Mama! Please come back to me."

  With tears in her eyes, she looked over her shoulder and vowed, "I will always be with you, my precious angel."

  Those were Emma’s last words to her daughter.

  Emma walked the thirty paces to where she had first glimpsed her sister’s husband, Phillip of Canbury, standing over the lifeless body of her father. Creeping through the dense foliage, she heard the unmistakable sound of clashing swords before she saw the deadly battle through the break in the trees. The warriors that escorted her and her daughter to England had been ensnared by ruthless outlaws who were no doubt led by Philip.

  Emma wanted to flee to the abbey with Isabel, but her daughter had a better chance of escaping the danger that surrounded them if she travelled alone. Phillip had not been privy to the knowledge that Isabel accompanied her parents to England. And Emma prayed he was still ignorant of that fact.

  Her sister Eleanor had written numerous letters conveying her happiness with the first year of marriage to Philip, and that they were expecting their first child. Emma and Alex had accepted the invitation to come to England under the belief that Philip no longer held animosity towards them.

  Icy fear twisted in Emma’s stomach for Eleanor and her unborn child due this month. The thought of them at the mercy of the man who had murdered William Fitzpeter, Baron of Greystone, made her chest tighten with pain.

  She should have known, Emma told herself. In her heart she had always been afraid of Philip, but the love for her sister made her blind to his true sadistic nature. His sword was still stained with the blood of her and Eleanor’s father. Philip’s motive was reprisal against her and her husband, Emma quickly realized.

  Clenching the dagger in her hand, Emma stalked Philip from behind until she stood a few paces away. With tears blurring her vision and her heart pounding in her chest, she lunged forward with the deadly weapon raised high. Her intent was to stab him in the back, just as he had done to her father.

  Hearing the faint rustle of leaves from behind, Philip turned suddenly and halted the downward strike of the dagger. With a menacing growl, he threw her to the ground, and then stepped on her hand as she went for the fallen weapon.

  Yanking the dagger from her grasp, Philip sneered, “Did you honestly think you would be able to kill me?”

  Emma looked into the cruel, black eyes of Eleanor’s husband. Philip was five years from two score in age, with hair the color of a moonless night and a frame that bespoke of endless years of hard training. With the exception of the two scars that ran down the length of one cheek, his appearance had not changed since she had last seen him 11 years ago.

  “You will die,” she said with revulsion.

  “Nae, Emma, for it is your life that will end this day.”

  “Why?”

  “You were betrothed to me from birth,” he laughed scornfully. “Your weak father decreed that you wouldnae marry until you were ten and eight. Like a fool, I patiently waited for you.”

  Emma tried to scramble to her feet so that she might be able to take flight, but her attempt failed. With loathing, Philip kicked her in the stomach then continued his ranting, “A sennight before our union, you ran away with Mackenzie. Like a bitch in heat, you whored yourself with a dirty Scot!” he roared.

  “I was kidnapped.”

  “You bitch! For a Scot bastard, you broke our betrothal. ‘Twas your deception that cost me my title and land. As punishment for trying to retrieve the woman sworn to me by her sire, our sovereign lord forced me to fight in the crusades for five bloody years.”

  King Henry had been outraged that Phillip had attacked the Mackenzie Clan, especially after warning him not to seek retribution for the loss of Emma. As penalty for his treachery, the King of England stripped Phillip of his title and lands. However, the king did offer Philip Emma’s younger sister as wife if he returned from the holy land.

  “You were given Eleanor’s hand in marriage, as well as my father’s title and lands upon his... his…” Emma broke off, sickened by the realization.

  “His death, “Philip finished her sentence. “Aye, I am now Baron of Greystone.”

  “The king will…”

  With contempt, he cut her off. “As we speak, your husband travels to king’s court and will deliver the news of your father’s untimely death to King Henry. I assure you, it will nae come as a shock that your father died. He was an old man and his health was poor.”

  “Greed is why you killed the man who treated you as a son for so many years?”

  “Nae, my dear, revenge. Your father paid for his deceit in nae protecting what he swore to me.”

  “My sister, what have you done to her,” Emma cried out.

  “Unlike you, Eleanor has remained faithful to me. Her death will come, but after she gives me an heir as well as a spare. That may take a few years.”

  “My husband-”

  He grabbed her by her collar, and then hauled her off the ground as he railed, “Nae, I have planned for Alex Mackenzie to live a long life of misery without his wife, daughter and sons.”

  He slammed her into a tree, pleased when he saw her tears. “His pain and suffering has only just begun. Slowly, I will destroy all Alex Mackenzie hold precious in this world. You, the love of his life, will be the first of many mortal wounds I inflict upon him.”

  Pressing the dagger against her throat, Philip resumed his speech. “King Henry will be told Isabel is Eleanor’s distant cousin, and it will ensure my guardianship of the little bitch. I will make your daughter into a slave. She will be beaten, starved and worked like the lowest serf. Fear not, I will nae kill her. I will leave that privilege up to the man she will wed. After a year or two of him using and abusing her little body, she will welcome death. I presume you have heard of Baron Montgomery.”

  Emma sucked her in breath. Please God, don’t let this happen. She silently prayed as pain sliced through her heart imagining her young daughter in the clutches of that evil man.

  “I see you have heard of the man who will be Isabel’s husband. ‘Tis true he killed his wife within the first year of marriage. He and I met while fighting in the crusades. When we were captured by the Saracens, enduring hell on earth, we planned our revenge.”

  "You’re insane if you think-”

  He backhanded her before she could finish.

  "Silence!” He bellowed as he grabbed her hair, forcing her to stand. “Your words mean naught. Let me tell you what will happen to your family before you die."

  His face contorted with rage as he relayed the final part of his revenge. "I will draw your husband to your daughter's wedding. The shock of finding his daughter alive, but having no power to save her from a fate worse than death, will shatter his heart. It will not end there. When he arrives home his sons-" Philip's words died in his through when Emma tried to fight him, even as the dagger drew blood from her neck.

  "You will burn in hell! I will kill you myself!" She continued to struggle until Philip pinned her hands above her head with one hand. His other hand held the tip of the dagger at her throat.

  "Nae, for my revenge starts now and will continu
e until everyone you love is dead.” As he said the last word, Philip drove the dagger into her throat, and with perverse satisfaction, he watched her blood dripped down his arm as she died.

  1

  EIGHT YEARS LATER

  Isabel, now known as Lady Ella, raced through the hills of Greystone astride her ash-colored horse, Apollo. It was a warm, sun filled day in late May as she returned from the Westshire Abbey and her daily work of training and breeding horses with the monks.

  Sir James rode with her, insisting that escort was necessary when she traveled to and from the abbey. He was commander of the men-at-arms at Greystone, her home for the past eight years. He was also her uncle and half brother to Lady Eleanor, her aunt. They were her only family now and she valued their love above all else.

  Taking in Ella’s attire, James said, “If not for all that hair you would look like a lad of ten summers.”

  Sir James studied the girl that had come to mean so much to him in his five years at Greystone. Her long blonde hair tied at her neck fell in gentle waves down her back, a hands length shy of her waist. Long lashes surrounded her large green eyes. Her nose was small and slender, her lips full and hid straight pearl white teeth. Her body was naturally thin, but lithe from constant activity. She had long legs that gave the appearance that she was taller than her average height, and James was always amused that she viewed herself to be bigger that her petite frame.

  She was a distant relation to his half sister, and even though he did not share the same blood, Ella called him uncle. It was a small thing really, yet nevertheless, he felt immense pride in the title. The role of protector came easy to him, and he vowed one day to see her safely away from Greystone.

  Looking down at her breeches, tunic and leather, knee-high boots, Ella said, “Philip believes that I am safer dressed as a boy.”

  Sir James cursed softly, and then said, “Eleanor’s husband is more a danger to you than the Devil himself.”

  “But in the five years you’ve been here, there has been less opportunity for Phillip to lose his temper at me. I can never thank you enough for arranging me to work at the abbey. I have found so much joy in the knowledge the monks have given me.” Then with youthful eagerness, she said, “Let me show you what I have taught Apollo.”