Plead Forgiveness (Loyalty Series) Read online

  James watched Ella drop the reins of the large Arabian courser, and then guide the horse around trees using only knee pressure. Following her few verbal Latin commands, he then saw the battle skills Apollo had been taught; such as rearing up, spinning in the opposite direction, and kicking out his back legs. James was more than a little impressed, and very proud of her accomplishment.

  “You have done well. Have you taught my horses these same skills?”

  During the past five years, James had purchased over twenty horses, all bred and trained at the Westshire abbey. King John built the abbey after returning from the crusades with hundreds of horses. He wanted the monks to breed the valuable horseflesh, because unlike his vassals, they would keep accurate records of their bloodlines.

  “Aye, as well as other skills I think you will appreciate. I am still training them to overcome their natural instinct to flee loud noise, but they have learned to accept sudden and unusual movement from the weapons a rider may use, along with how to avoid being injured in combat.”

  “’Tis nae wonder that Philip allows you to continue working at the abbey, since he benefits greatly from the skills you’ve been taught.”

  Abbott Davis had agreed to give Philip a small percentage of the profits made from selling the horses Ella bred or trained along with two horses a year. The Abbott believed it was a small price to pay. He did not care for Philip, especially after he saw the injuries Phillip inflicted on the child. After the first few months it was evident the monks adored teaching the young girl.

  “He does get the finest choice of purebred Arabian, Andalusian and Friesian horses in the country. Abbott Davis says he does not mind giving over two horses a year, if it means that I am allowed to continue working with them each afternoon.”

  “At least your afternoons are peaceful, and in the mornings you are with your aunt in the village.”

  For the past five years, Ella spent her mornings with her loving and devoted aunt, either tending ailments and injuries or collecting herbs for healing. Lady Eleanor had learned the healing arts from her sister, Emma, and continued to seek out knowledge about matters concerning birth, conception or in her case the inability to conceive.

  At a score and six, Lady Eleanor had remained barren after miscarrying eight years ago, when she was eight months pregnant. The shock of her father and sister’s death had been too much for her fragile body. The final devastating blow came later, when the midwife announced that the damage done by the miscarriage left her barren. Philip blamed Eleanor’s infertility on Ella, stating that the young girl was a curse, who brought only death and devastation to those around her.

  Eleanor knew Ella’s identity and fought tooth and nail to keep her precious niece from harm. Philip often punished his wife’s interference, not by physically harming her, but by beating Ella. Infrequently, he prohibited Ella from working with Eleanor during the morning hours, but only for short periods since he saw the benefit of two healers tending to his men and the villagers.

  “Aye, I love spending time with Aunt Eleanor,” she said just before the guards at the drawbridge halted them.

  The guards insisted on speaking with their commander privately, and when her Uncle James returned, he said, “There is a matter that concerns me here. Go on up to the keep and I will join you later this eve.”

  She thought the guards seemed anxious, but did not comment on their behavior. She replied using his formal title, which Philip had insisted upon, “Aye, Sir James.”

  He watched her cross the drawbridge, and then turned to speak with the guardsmen, unaware of the news and the events that would follow.

  Heading to the stables, Ella’s gaze drifted to the tower she lived in her first six months at Greystone. She shook her head to banish the memories of that dismal time. Yet, while gingerly cooling Apollo down, she remembered those first few days Greystone eight years ago.

  Mama, I tried to save you. I aimed the arrow at the man attacking you, not you . . . never you. Please forgive me, Mama.

  Struck from behind the moment she released the arrow, only to regained consciousness hours later, locked within a dark tower as lightning split the night sky and thunder smothered her screams of pure fright. She repeatedly called out for her mama and papa, but they did not come. As terrifying as that night had been, it didn’t compare to the devastation she learned the next morning when she saw her arrow covered with blood. Her mother’s blood.

  ‘Twas your arrow that ended your mother’s life, and although I tried to explain that it was unintentional, your father nae longer claims you as his daughter.

  She had doubted Philip’s words until she read the missive.

  Dear Baron of Greystone,

  This letter is to inform ye that I am leaving for Scotland on the morrow and vow never to return. I hold nae love for England, for she has taken what I loved most in the world. My grief will be worst when I inform my sons of the greatest loss they have ever known. The heart of Clan Mackenzie lives nae longer. For now, I live only for my sons.

  Do as ye like with the one who killed my wife, for she is nae longer daughter to me. If she ever returns to Scotland, I will nae hesitate to end her life the way she ended Emma’s.

  ‘Tis my understanding that yer grief equals my own. There has ne’er been any love-loss between us; nevertheless, I wish to pay my respects to ye for the loss of your unborn bairn. Losing one’s child, regardless of their age, is like losing part of your soul. I pray that yer wife will recover, and the future finds ye with many healthy children.

  Please extend my condolences to your wife, Lady Eleanor, for the loss of her sister, child and father.

  Alex Mackenzie

  After reading her father’s letter, she collapsed to the ground as earth- shattering pain tore through her heart. Trembling and in a fetal position, she listened to Philip explain that in order to spare her life, she would have to take on a new identity as Ella, a distant cousin to her Aunt Eleanor.

  The Baron of Greystone confined her to the tower for six months to rid her tongue of the Scottish accent, with the assistance of her only visitor, her aunt. When Philip returned, he explained that when King Henry learned that Eleanor was barren, her orphaned distant relation was decreed ward to Baron of Greystone.

  Ella chastised herself for allowing her painful memories of the past to wreak havoc on her heart. She had trained herself long ago not to think about that devastating time or hope that her father would forgive her. Aware that reconciliation with her highland family was as likely as her being declared Queen of England, she now lived only for her English family, for Aunt Eleanor and Uncle James.

  After grooming Apollo and leaving the stables, Ella heard a ruckus coming from the far end of the bailey. Unable to see the cause of this commotion, she weaved through the soldiers and servants who filled the training yard, and then came to an abrupt halt at the sight that greeted her eyes.

  Philip, Aunt Eleanor’s cruel husband, was in the process of dragging a small boy to the whipping post. The child could be no more than six or seven summers, Ella thought. Her chest painfully tightened as a soldier tied the boy’s wrist together and secured him to the post.

  “Ye will rue the day ye kidnapped me,” the boy spat in a thick Highland burr.

  The various men loyal to Greystone and Montgomery laughed at the insignificant threat.

  A chill raced down Ella’s spine when her gaze found Roger Moreland, Baron of Montgomery, standing next to Philip. During the only two occasions Roger visited Greystone, he had eyed her like a prized mare he would relish in taming.

  “Scots are just dirty bastards who aren’t fit to wipe the arse of an Englishmen,” a Montgomery soldier taunted.

  Enraged by this slander, the boy desperately tried to free himself from the post, but only managed to rip the skin from his wrist and cause blood to drip down his arms.

  With pity in their eyes, the people working within the castle stopped to watch the spectacle. They were not surprised, since Philip beat se
rfs and free men alike with the slightest provocation. A brutal flogging always seemed to give him a sense of power and control.

  In Ella’s eight years at Greystone, she only witnessed grown men flogged, never a small child captured solely for ransom. It was a well know fact that England and Scotland had both decreed that captives must remain unharmed. Breaking the code of conduct often resulted in harsh acts of retribution. It was unlikely that the boy would survive the flogging; Ella thought to herself. Thus, there would be no ransom.

  “Who is that boy, and what did he do to deserve such a punishment?” Ella whispered to Rose, a castle maid.

  Distress was written all over Rose’s face when she murmured, “Kidnapped boy from some Scottish Clan. ‘Tis said he tried to escape.”

  “The king’s wrath will be upon us if this boy is whipped or harmed in any way. I must put a stop to this,” Ella cried as she rushed to the whipping post.

  Due to the boy’s size, he had to stand on a wooden box so the lash would strike his entire back and not just the top portion.

  With mirth, Philip unraveled the whip, and then said to Montgomery, “We’ll give him five lashes for now, for we don’t want to kill him before his grandfather arrives.”

  “I only wish my bride-to-be was here to see the flogging,” Montgomery sneered. “A beneficial lesson in discipline it would be for her.” In a whisper he added, “God knows with her Scottish blood I will have to beat her often, and you know I will nae hesitate to whip her for any disobedience.”

  Looking at Montgomery, Philip thought how utterly perfect he was for Ella’s husband. Roger Moreland, Baron of Montgomery would make that bitch scream in pain until death would be a gift from God.

  “She deserves nae less. My useless wife always tries my patience with her futile attempts to protect the wench, but since Eleanor will nae be around much longer, I find myself itching to flay Ella’s back.”

  As Philip raised the whip, Ella burst through the crowd of soldiers and screamed, “Stop! You cannot do this; he’s just a small boy. What crime could he have committed to warrant such a severe punishment?”

  Philip watched Ella position herself protectively in front of the boy with her arms raised high, challenging his dictate. He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes at her flagrant disregard for his authority. He suddenly remembered he had not informed her of her betrothal to the Montgomery.

  With a devious smile on his smug face, he calmly stated, “Ella, I’m so glad you are here to welcome your future husband, Roger Moreland, to Greystone.” He gestured to the Roger, and then was delighted to hear her shriek of horror.

  The malicious look on Philip’s face told her that he was sincere in his intent to marry her off to the vile Baron of Montgomery. Five years shy of two score, Roger still maintained a powerful, well-muscled body. His dark blue eyes looked black even in the sun, and his hair was as dark as his heart.

  It was public knowledge that he was desperate for an heir, but even with all his wealth, titles and land, most men refused to give their daughters to the ignoble man who killed his first two wives within a year of marriage. In exchange for wealth and power, a few heartless families offered their offspring as bride, but Montgomery rejected their daughters because they did not possess the qualities he required.

  Since Montgomery did not need a wife’s dowry, his requirements were of a different nature. Young enough to bear many sons, strong enough to endure harsh acts of discipline, and beautiful enough to incite his lust. Above all, she had to be a virgin.

  Montgomery’s broad-carved face twisted in anger when he noted her horrified expression. Deciding to confirm his intent, he stated, “Regardless of your wishes, you will be my wife.”

  Straightening to her full height, she lifted her chin and proclaimed, “Baron Montgomery, I believe Lord Greystone has misled you to think I would be an appropriate wife for someone of your station. I assure you, I have nothing to offer a husband, neither dowry nor land. My state of dress alone confirms I’m ill-suited to be your wife.”

  Montgomery’s right hand tightened into a fist and the veins in his neck began to protrude dangerously outward

  Slowly stepping back towards the boy, Ella declared, “My deepest apologies, but I will nae marry you.”

  Publicly refusing to be his wife would not go unpunished, but she didn’t care. She glanced over her shoulder at the boy, then said, “Lord Greystone, I won’t allow you to whip an innocent boy. He has-”

  Before Ella could finish, Roger’s backhand slammed into her cheek, sending her flying into the dirt. Despite the pain, she did not cry out or shed a single tear. As she picked herself off the ground, her gaze met and locked with the crystal blue eyes of the young boy.

  “I will see ye dead, ye bastard,” the boy screamed. “Only a coward would strike a lass half his size.”

  People within the courtyard gasped in utter shock at the boy’s insult. To denounce a man like Montgomery, one would have to with be mad or a Scot.

  Montgomery’s rage knew no bounds as he tried to grab the whip, but Philip pulled it away and whispered, “Nae, Roger.” His eyes shifted to Ella, then back to Roger before he continued, “I believe ‘tis time to teach her a valuable lesson.”

  Montgomery was not appeased. “That bitch-”

  With eerie calmness, Philip cut in, “We still have need of the boy and five lashes could in fact kill him. But, five lashes wouldn’t kill her.”

  Seeing that Montgomery was still grasping the pure genius of his plan, he continued, “The dirty Scot defends her and would be quite reluctant to try to escape again if he knew she would be punished for his defiance.”

  Understanding dawned on Montgomery as did a slow grin of anticipation. He took a step back and eagerly awaited Philips next move.

  Turning to Ella, Philip explained, “This hostage attempted to escape, his punishment fits the crime-”

  “Mayhap for a grown man, not a young boy,” she interjected. “A whipping will kill him afore you gain any ransom. And the boy’s death will bring the wrath of his clan, along with that of King Henry and King Alexander to our gates.”

  Thoughts of flaying the skin off her back drowned out her words as Philip took a few menacing steps towards his defiant ward. “You insolent wench, this matter does nae concern you. How dare you challenge my decree. Five lashes will prevent any further attempts to escape and-”

  “I will take his punishment,” Ella declared.

  Philip could not believe how easy it was to goad her into accepting the boy’s punishment. He looked over his shoulder at Montgomery, whose nod told him to get on with the punishment.

  The boy had listened, understood what would happen, and cried, “Nae lass will take my punishment. Let her be, ye English bastards.”

  She stood in awe of the boy’s courage as he frantically tried to break free of his bonds. His sandy blonde hair hung in waves to his shoulders and his skin was golden by the sun. He was so young, but defended her as if he were a seasoned warrior. In her heart, she knew he was special, and for that, she would do whatever it took to keep him safe.

  “Bind her hands and tie her to the post behind the boy,” Philip ordered one of his soldiers. “I think he should hear her scream in pain, horrific pain caused by his careless act.”

  A soldier tied Ella behind the trembling boy, and heard his heart- wrenching sobs. She quickly took hold of his small hands. With tenderness in her voice, she whispered in Gaelic, “Shhh . . . All will be well. It will be over soon.”

  He was surprise she knew his language, but instead of commenting on it, he cried, “Nae, dinna let them do this to ye.”

  She could hear Greystone and Montgomery arguing about the number of lashes she deserved and knew she had little time to sooth the boy. “What is your name,?”

  “Gabriel.”

  “They call me Ella.”

  “Ella, why are ye taking my punishment?”

  She gave his hand a good squeeze before replying, “This punishment coul
d kill you, and I will nae let that happen.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “So am I, but I need you to be strong and not cry out when the lash falls. They want to hear us cry and beg for mercy. I believe we are better than that. Your courage will help me be strong enough to endure anything. Will you help me, Gabriel?”

  He moved his hands so they covered hers, and then said, “Aye, I will nae let ye go. I give ye all my strength, all my love.” His voice cracked with emotion.

  Ella had not cried in years, but hearing the boy’s words of love, a single tear streamed down her face.

  Philip’s voice broke through her thoughts, “Hear me well, boy. Your protector will take your five lashes this day, and if you cause any more problems she will receive another whipping.” He waited for a response, then continued, “For her ungracious behavior towards her betrothed, Lady Ella will be given an additional five lashes.”

  The gathering crowd was horrified. The female servants cried in dismay, while the male servants struggled to control the blood boiling in their veins.

  Every muscle in her body tightened in anticipation as Philip ripped her tunic and undershirt to bare her entire upper body. She knew he was immensely pleased with himself for the humiliation and pain he was about to inflict.

  Greystone saw the predatory gleam in Montgomery’s eyes at the sight of Ella’s enticing form and exquisite beauty. Her ivory skin, tiny waist and shapely shoulders complemented the sleek lines of her back to perfection.

  Unlike Roger, Philip’s hatred for her and her family was greater than his lust. And with that last thought, he raised the whip.

  2

  Ella’s body jolted with shock, followed by excruciating pain. The first lash ripped through the smooth skin of her back, causing warm blood to drip down her body.