Adrienne Basso (14 page)

Then again, he knew very little about his half brother. They had never spoken, had never met face-to-face. All he really knew about the earl were the tales he had heard: of command and harshness, of strength and dominance, of courage and character.

Ewan was astute enough to realize the details and emphasis of the stories were often dependent on the attitudes of those relating the tale. Even with a dirk held against her throat, his mother would be hard-pressed to find one good or kind or fair thing to say about the earl.

There was good mixed with bad in all people. Though in Ewan’s experience, one side almost always dominated the other.

Yet as he melded back into the dense woods, two questions remained foremost in Ewan’s mind.

Who was the blond beauty? And why was she so important to the earl?

It was a cheerful trio that returned to the castle, Gavin leading the way. Fiona sat relaxed and content on her palfrey. An impressive string of fish hung from the end of Spencer’s fishing pole. Gavin, too, felt an uncharacteristic sense of well-being. It had been a rare treat to escape his ever-present responsibilities for an afternoon.

“We’ve received an important message fer ye,” Aidan said, as he grasped the lead on Gavin’s horse and pulled him toward the stable.

“More messages?” Gavin grinned as he dismounted, his mood too uplifted to manage a serious response. “Is the new King Edward dead also?”

Aidan smiled faintly. “Not yet. But there is a king wanting yer attention.”

Gavin’s heart quickened. There could only be one king to which Aidan referred. The Scottish King Robert.

“With the news of Edward’s death, I expected he would move south,” Gavin said in a hushed voice.

“Ye’ve got that right.” Aidan glanced around the crowded area, then leaned in close. “He’s waiting fer ye upstairs in yer private solar.”

“Why not the great hall?”

“That’s where he wanted to go. I thought it wise not to question his request, but ’tis clear he dinnae want to attract much attention. He arrived with a small contingent of heavily armed soldiers, none bearing the royal standard. As it was, only Connor, Duncan, and I recognized him.”

“Has he been here long?”

Aidan shook his head. “Less than an hour. Connor rode out to fetch ye, but ye’ve returned before him.”

“We didn’t see Connor. He must have taken a different route to the loch.” Gavin laid a hand on Aidan’s shoulder. “Take charge of Lady Fiona. And make certain I’m not disturbed.”

Gavin took the stairs to the private solar two at a time, arriving at the top slightly out of breath. Without knocking, he swung open the heavy wooden door and found the king lounging comfortably in a padded chair, a meager offering of refreshments set before him.

“Sire, welcome. I humbly beg yer pardon fer not being here to greet ye,” Gavin said, bowing low.

“As I gave ye no warning of my arrival, ’tis understandable,” Robert replied, coming to his feet. “’Tis good to see ye, my old friend.”

The king extended his hand and Gavin shook it. Robert looked well. He was lean and fit with a natural air of authority and regal command surrounding him. ’Twas hard to believe that a scant year ago his kingship had been in grave peril, his cause all but lost. With his army defeated and his support scattered, Robert had been lucky to make it out of Scotland with his life.

But he had done what he promised: gathered more troops, secured greater support, and returned to fight for his crown. “I had not expected to see ye so soon after Loudon Hill,” Gavin said.

Robert grinned cheekily. “’Twas pure delight watching Mowbray and his cavalry force flee, was it not? And besting the Earl of Gloucester a few days later added a certain element of justice to our fight.”

“A victory fer all of us to savor,” Gavin agreed.

“Aye. And now we’ve had the best possible news of all.” Robert shot Gavin a look of pure glee. “Longshanks is dead.”

Gavin returned the grin. “Praise God. My people are planning a grand celebration as we speak. Will ye join us?”

“Regretfully, I cannae stay long.”

“Then at least allow me to offer more fitting hospitality to my king,” Gavin said, gesturing toward the goblet of ale and simple platter of cold meat, cheese, and brown bread on the table in front of Robert.

“Nay, this has more than appeased my hunger and assures me that few in yer household are aware of my true identity. I find it easier to evade my enemies when I dinnae travel with all the royal trappings. There will be plenty of opportunities to make a royal progress when the crown sits more securely upon my head.”

“Do ye anticipate much resistance from young Edward?” Gavin asked, taking the seat opposite the king.

“No. The whelp lacks his father’s shrewdness and taste fer blood.” Robert remained silent for a moment, then cleared his throat. “The next threat of war will come from within our borders. That’s why I’m here. I need to know that I can continue to count on yer full support.”

“I’ve pledged my sword and my men to yer cause, fully committing all to defeating the English.” Gavin tightened his jaw. “I’ve never made any secret of the fact that I’m not nearly as eager to spill Scottish blood.”

“That’s hardly my choice either,” Robert exclaimed. “I will accept the fidelity of any man who swears allegiance to me and forgive any past transgressions. But we both know there are some clans who will never accept me as their rightful king.”

“I know. As we speak, they are taking sides against ye with the MacDougalls and the MacNaghtens leading the way.”

“Dinnae forget the MacNabs and the McCullochs.” Robert smiled grimly. “They, too, crave a piece of my hide.”

“Fer some it’s less about yer sovereignty and more about their history. They’ll line up against ye solely because their blood feud rivals are siding with ye.”

“Aye, ’tis how the English were able to gain a foothold inside our beloved country in the first place. But the clans must see reason, must look beyond their petty differences to the future.” The king slid a folded piece of parchment across the table. “You see before ye a list of those men who have not yet chosen sides.”

There were no surprises as Gavin read through the list of names. “Some will still try to avoid the conflict, delaying as long as possible before choosing sides.”

“Time for delay is fast running out. I need to work quickly to secure as many clans as possible to my banner.”

“I know most of the men on yer list. I can speak with them, plead fer yer cause, but I’m no silver-tongued diplomat.”

“I dinnae think many of those men would understand the art of diplomacy if it struck them over the head.” The king sat back, folding his arms across his chest. “I need these alliances to strengthen my claim to the crown and fight those who would oppose me, Gavin. Seven of the men on the list have marriageable daughters. McKenna’s sister is also of an age to be married.

“If ye take one of these women as yer wife, the allegiance of her clan will shift to our side. And they, in turn, can aid ye in convincing some of the others.”

Marry?
Gavin felt an unexpected trickle of sweat start on his neck. Kings had long dictated the arranged marriages of the nobility, requiring that they give their approval for many of the matches. He really shouldn’t be surprised. Yet he was. Gavin glanced again at the list. The letters grew fuzzy before his eyes.

“Is there anyone in particular ye prefer?” Gavin asked, stalling for time.

“All on the list are suitable and will be beneficial to the cause.” Robert took another swig from his tankard. “Too bad ye can only marry one of them.”

Gavin tightly gripped the arms of the chair and tried smiling. He knew this day would come eventually. He owed his clan a rightful heir and his king a sovereign duty. That much was clear. Yet a part of him resisted. Why?

“When do you require the deed to be done?” Gavin asked.

“The sooner ye make a choice and achieve a formal betrothal, the better. The actual wedding can wait a few months, since the promise of a betrothal is binding.”

Gavin’s chest tightened. “I’ll send word to ye once the agreement is signed,” he replied, deliberately ignoring the trace of misgivings tugging at his heart.

The king’s gaze was not without sympathy. “I know I ask much of ye, Gavin.”

“I willingly serve my king,” Gavin replied forcefully.

“I know. Yer loyalty is noted and appreciated and will be rewarded.”

Gavin grit his teeth. He did not support the king in hopes of winning favors or rewards. He did it because he loved his country and believed in the cause. “Yer success as our king is reward enough,” he insisted.

“Well said, yet I’m grateful nonetheless. Truly.” Pleased with getting his own way, Robert flashed a generous smile. “I’ve heard tales of a recent addition to yer household,” he continued casually. Too casually. “An English widow and her son?”

Gavin stiffened. “Since when is it a king’s business to be concerned about another man’s mistress?”

“If that female becomes an impediment to my goals, she therefore becomes my problem.” Robert lifted his tankard and studied Gavin over the pewter rim. “Will the lady be a problem?”

Gavin bristled. “Nay. She understands her place in my life. Hell, ’twas the lady herself who suggested our current arrangement.”

“Curious.” Robert drained the tankard and set it on the table. “I suppose she found yer manly charms irresistible.”

“Not at all.” Gavin grinned and shook his head, then leaned close so his gaze was level with the king’s. “The lady needed my help.”

“Ah, ’tis the duty of every chivalrous knight to protect a lady in distress.”

The mockery of the king’s words bathed Gavin in guilt. His actions toward Fiona had been anything but chivalrous. “My relationship with Lady Fiona will in no way impede my obligation to ye or my commitment to the cause. I will do as ye ask and take one of these women as my wife.”

Robert stood and extended his hand a second time. Gavin accepted it with considerably less enthusiasm than before, knowing it was the final seal of his pledge to obey.

Robert pulled on his leather gloves, then glanced around the chamber. “Perchance, is there a back staircase?”

“I’m afraid not. I shall escort—”

“No fanfare, Gavin. ’Tis safer. Trust me.”

Still, Gavin insisted on checking the hallway first, to ensure that no one was in sight. Satisfied, he signaled for the king. Robert slapped him on the shoulder as he left, and Gavin watched the king’s back as he descended the staircase. The moment he stepped foot in the great hall, a small contingent of soldiers emerged from the shadows, quickly surrounding the king. They drew almost no attention as they walked through the nearly deserted hall and out the front door.

The minute they disappeared from his sight, Gavin hurried back to the solar. Leaning out the window, he saw the group head for the stables. One of the soldiers spoke briefly with Aidan. Horses appeared and the men swung onto their mounts, riding out without a second glance.

Gavin was still preoccupied with the scene outside the window when the door burst open. Aidan, Duncan, and Connor stood in the doorway, their expressions openly curious.

“Is Robert safely away?” Gavin asked.

“Aye, and looking mightily pleased with himself,” Aidan replied. “Are we off to fight again?”

“Not yet,” Gavin answered, almost wishing that were the case. Though the idea of killing his fellow Scots was distasteful, the idea of another marriage to a woman he had never met and didn’t know was not much better.

“If we aren’t going into battle, then what did the king want?” Duncan asked.

“We know that whatever it was, ye agreed,” Aidan added.

Gavin raised his brow. “Now, why would ye say that?”

“’Cause Robert was grinning like a half-wit when he called fer his horse,” Aidan explained. “’Twas obvious he was pleased with the outcome of yer meeting.”

“I need a drink,” Gavin declared.

“I’ll fetch some ale,” Connor volunteered.

“Nay. Tell Hamish to bring a jug of whiskey.” Gavin’s command was met with surprise by all three men. Distilled locally, the potent liquor was used mainly for medicinal needs and by the earl’s decree, drunk only on special occasions.

They remained quiet until the whiskey arrived. Gavin solemnly filled each cup and passed them around. “Robert wants me to take a wife,” he announced, hoisting his vessel and gulping the contents. It burned like fire as it ran down his throat and spread through his gut—a welcome distraction from his current woes.

“Damn! ’Tis no wonder ye’re needing a dram of whiskey,” Connor exclaimed, refilling Gavin’s cup.

“Has he chosen yer bride fer ye?” Duncan asked.

“Nay. He’s given me a list.” Gavin brandished the parchment in front of the trio, waiting for a reaction. It took a few moments before he realized they were unable to read it.

Taking another fortifying sip of his drink, Gavin then slowly recited the names, combing his memory for any glimmer of recognition. There was one woman on the list he had actually met—Shana Agnew. She was attractive, with dark hair and striking blue eyes. She also possessed a shrill voice that grated on the nerves and a propensity for talking about everything and nothing. In his head, Gavin immediately shifted her name to the very bottom.

Connor idly picked at the cheese on the king’s platter, then tossed a piece into his mouth. “I saw Margaret Colville at a tournament in the Highlands two years ago.”

“And?” Duncan prompted.

“There’s more to a woman than good looks,” Connor said philosophically. “Perhaps she has a sweet countenance or a kind heart.”

Gavin restlessly tapped the tips of his fingers together. “I dinnae require a beautiful lady, though given the choice, I would prefer a woman who is passably attractive.”

“Then ye’ll need to consider someone else besides Margaret Colville,” Connor said with a good-natured laugh.

“That’s unkind,” Aidan admonished.

Connor shrugged. “’Tis harsh to judge a lass purely on her looks, I know, but Gavin’s the one who’ll be sleeping beside her. And we have to think about the clan. We dinnae want his bairns to look like a herd of horses. Or worse, a litter of piglets.”

The men all nodded solemnly as Gavin refilled their cups.

“What about the McKenna lass?” he asked. “I heard tell that she’s a bonnie one. Though if she shares her brother’s fiery temperament, there willnae be a piece of crockery left unbroken in the entire castle.”

“She’s got the McKenna bright red hair,” Connor confided.

“Any priest will tell ye that’s the mark of the devil,” Duncan warned.