Circle of Honor (19 page)

Angus stiffened.

“What is it?” She touched his forehead. “Are you not feeling well?”

He pushed her hand away. “I'm fine. 'Tis Seamus—why is he challenging so fiercely?”

Adam must have reached the end of this strength for he called a halt. Seamus stopped swinging his sword as Adam bent over, hands on his thighs, taking great gulps of air.

She took the old man's arm. “Come, Angus, we must go.”

“Not now, lass. Not now.”

Seamus glared at Adam, but Adam didn't step back from the older man's intense gaze or the sword Seamus still held at chest level. Nor did Adam raise his own weapon. “Seamus, calm yourself. Save your anger for an enemy.”

Seamus also breathed heavily from his exertion. He shook his great head as if to clear it. Between breaths, sword still at the ready, he confronted his laird. “And just who is my enemy, Adam?”

“What do you mean?”

Gwenyth wondered what had excised the man to raise his sword to his laird. She turned to Angus, but he hushed her as Seamus continued.

“I have the information you asked for.”

Adam nodded. “And . . .”

“I had to go to Bruce himself to confirm it. And you aren't going to like it any more than I do.”

Adam's voice remained mild. “We should talk of it then. But first, put down your sword, cousin.”

Seamus stared at his sword as if surprised to see it raised against Adam. The other men had backed off several steps.

With relief Gwenyth watched the sword descend. Adam motioned toward the keep. “Come, let's have a cool drink and discuss whatever you've learned.”

“I would speak of it here, in front of the others.”

“Very well. What has you so incensed?”

“You are handfasted to a Comyn.” Seamus nearly spit the last word out.

Gwenyth flinched at the venom in his voice and action.

Adam placed his sword point in the dirt and leaned on the weapon. “I am handfast to a woman who served the Comyns, yes.”

“She's no' a servant. She's the youngest daughter of the traitor, John Comyn.”

Adam's body stiffened as if Seamus had struck him. Gwenyth felt the blood drain from her face. Did Seamus know the rest of it? She looked at Angus, afraid this news would kill him outright.

“Is it true, lass?” the old man asked.

She nodded, and fear pierced through her.

His shoulders slumped and alarmed, she put her arm about him for support. “I'm sorry. Now you understand why I must go, why I cannot be wife to your son.”

He nodded. “Ye should have told us yerself.”

She would have argued, but Angus gestured for her to remain quiet, and she returned her attention to Adam.

He lifted the sword and examined the blade. “You are sure of this?” his said, voice taut with restrained emotion.

“Aye, I'm sure. Ask her yourself.”

“I most certainly will.” He rammed the sword upright in the dirt and strode off with Seamus close behind.

Angus sagged, and Gwenyth moved quickly to bolster him, her fear of facing Adam quickly displaced by concern for Angus. “Come, you've tired yourself and Adam will be most displeased with us both.”

Angus's voice revealed his displeasure. “And do you concern yourself with Adam's opinion?”

“I am at his mercy, now more than ever.”

“Aye, ye should have told us who ye are. Ye best fear him, lass. There's little I can do to protect you from his anger.”

“Why would you want to?”

He made no reply, but his wrinkled face betrayed him.

“Ah,” she said softly. “So that is where Adam comes by his good heart.” She hugged Angus. “All will be well, Angus Mackintosh. I promise I'll not bring harm to your son.”

“Aye, well. Adam is angry, but I suspect he'll be lenient with ye.”

Not certain she wanted the answer, she asked the question anyway. “Why do you think that to be so?”

Angus kept his voice low as they walked back to his chamber. “He has always been kind to those who are hurting. And when that unfortunate one is a pretty woman, I suspect his tolerance will be great.”

“Why are you not more angry with me?”

Angus stopped and turned toward her. “An old man's folly,” he said. “I'd hoped to live long enough to see a child born to my only son.”

He looked so very old and tired, as if this admission echoed his acceptance of his failing health.

“I'm sorry, my laird.” And the truth be told, at that moment she truly was sorry she would not be able to fulfill his wish.

She took his arm, and they walked to his chamber, each lost in private thoughts. After admonishing the guard to keep this morning's activity to himself, Angus allowed Gwenyth to remove his plaid and help him into his bed.

“You are tired.” She fussed with his pillows. “Rest, or we shall be denied our time together.” Her voice was choked, and their gazes met.

Angus laid his thin hand on her arm. “That would be a disappointment to me.”

“And to me.”

Angus patted her hand. “If it comes to that, insist on a visit before ye leave for good, lass.”

“Of course. I thank you for your kindness, my laird.” She pulled the coverlet up and tucked it about him. “Rest now.”

“I will.”

Gwenyth closed the door gently, willing her tears into abeyance. It was foolish to contemplate the life Angus wished for her—home and family in Scotland's highlands. Her birth and the twists of fate that had befallen her family now dictated her course.

No matter what her heart might wish for.

FOURTEEN

W
AIT, COUSIN. Are you telling me that you knew none of it? That the wench has kept her lineage a secret?”

Adam shook off the restraining hand Seamus laid on his good shoulder, refusing to answer him, determined only to meet face to face with Gwenyth and her treachery. Her refusal to be truthful, to trust him, rubbed like salt in an unhealed wound.

“Adam, listen.”

Adam whirled on his cousin. “She will tell me the truth herself. Now.”

Seamus grabbed his arm. “It isn't like you to hurl yourself at a problem. Too much is at stake for you to charge ahead without thinking. You've a Comyn in your keep. We have to think, man. Think how Leod could use this against you.”

“She's done nothing but lie since the moment I met her! And what have I done? Played the lovesick fool.” He'd been so sure of God's hand in bringing them together. But had he heard God's voice or his own desire? Aye, desire could be a siren call that banished years of listening to and obeying God's word.

“Lovesick? Oh, cousin, tell me you haven't consummated this handfast.”

Adam walked on. Visions of Gwenyth splashing in the loch like a child, agreeing to friendship and admitting to a growing attraction assailed him. Had he been so desperate, so blind, that he'd allowed himself to believe her? To convince himself that God had chosen her for him?

Disappointment and chagrin gradually replaced his anger. Adam slowed his stride and veered toward the main hall. “You're right, Seamus. I need to sort through this. And no, I haven't touched her.”

“But you've wanted to.”

In the hall Adam seated himself at a trestle as Seamus took a place across from him. A serving girl brought bread, cheese, and drink, and Adam dismissed her.

Seamus broke off a piece of bread. “You shouldn't have hand-fasted with her.”

“I had no choice—Leod forced it on us. I promised her protection and now I must protect my enemy.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Seamus, I need advice. And I can't take this to Da.”

Seamus nodded. “All right.”

“First, did you speak at length with Bruce?”

“He hadn't much time. But before I left his camp he sent this to me for safekeeping.” Seamus reached into the folds of his plaid and removed a letter. He slid it across the table and Adam took it.

Bruce's mark sealed the parchment. “I'll read it later.”

Seamus pushed the tray of food to Adam. “What advice do you need other than for me to say you can't keep the woman?”

Adam ignored the food. “I will know more how to handle that situation once I've confronted her.”

“What else, then?”

“You are right. First we must think on how Gwenyth's identity may affect my dealings with Leod and the clan. I would know what drives him to challenge me.”

Seamus broke eye contact and stared at the floor.

“What? No need to couch your words, cousin. If I'm to best him, I must know.”

Seamus shifted, then brought his gaze to meet Adam's. “Leod truly believes he is the rightful heir.” He paused. “He believes you are physically weak, unable, and unwilling to fight because of your injury. He won't be able to withhold his challenge much longer, not if he learns how well you fought today.”

Adam stroked his chin. “He thought I would simply die and all would be his. He must have been furious when I rode into his keep, alive and well.”

“Aye. It's God's own truth that we all thought you as good as dead.” Seamus studied a knothole in the trestle. “He didn't aid his cause by accusing you of harming a woman—no one believes it.”

“So, even the Macphersons don't hold that against me?”

“They do not.” Seamus banged his hand upon the trestle. “But that woman is a different matter, Adam. You need to be rid of her. She isn't fit to be the wife of a chieftain loyal to Bruce.”

“Hatred for the Comyns runs deep.”

“Distrust and hatred, Adam. John Comyn's treachery toward Bruce doesn't sit well. Leod will certainly use that to his advantage. But it's mostly personal, him against you. He thinks he can best you.”

“What do you think he'll do next?”

“He'll weaken your position any way he can and then challenge you to fight.”

Adam sipped from his tankard. “I think you're right. He can use the woman's family ties, and I suspect he's behind the increase in cattle raids.”

“What raids?” Seamus asked, instantly alert.

“On the border with the Camerons.” Adam shifted uncomfortably. “A woman was assaulted as well.”

“By the saints, Adam. You've got to stop him.”

“I have no proof.” And Adam feared if he pressed the woman to name Leod, her life would be endangered.

“Then what shall we do?”

“We, good cousin, must stand united. Not just you and I, but all of Clan Chattan. Together we are a force no one will tangle with. I will convince the council that I'm the man to do that. And you shall be my right arm.”

A face-splitting grin creased Seamus's face. “Don't you mean left arm, my laird?”

Adam chuckled and shook his head. Only Seamus would dare to make light of his injury. “Aye, then. My left arm. I will propose you as my warlord, Seamus.”

“That isn't necessary. I fought you myself today—given time you will fight as well as you ever did.”

The compliment pleased Adam. “I will fight well enough, as long as I have a man to cover for me. But you will train the men, Seamus.”

“As you wish, my laird.”

“Good.” Now if only the woman were as easy to dispatch. But this news, Gwenyth's deceit—no wonder she'd been so coy yesterday. Rising anger threatened to overcome good sense. He forced his attention back to Seamus. “Once I locate Daron of Ruthven, I can be rid of Gwenyth, and Leod will have one less thing to hold against me.”

“But what if this Daron has left the country without her?”

“If she is indeed Gwenyth Comyn, I doubt the man has deserted her. More likely he's wounded or dead.”

“She is Gwenyth Comyn, Adam. You must believe it. And you can't afford to wait too long to act.”

“She stays until I can guarantee her safe conduct, either with her cousin or by my own hand. On this I will not be moved. I charge you with her safety, Seamus. No matter who she is, I'll not see her come to any more harm.”

Seamus stared hard at him. “I will see to it. Just have a care you don't lose Clan Chattan. Leod Macpherson would be a disastrous chief, and we both know it.”

“Thank you for the support—and the warning. I'll take neither lightly.”

Seamus left, but Adam remained at the table, sipping his water, knowing he must confront Gwenyth. He had no doubt that she was indeed Gwenyth Comyn, daughter of the man Robert the Bruce had stabbed to death. Betrayal upon betrayal. When would it end?

The truth was supposed to set one free, according to Christ's own words. Somehow Adam found little comfort in the thought. The pain of Gwenyth's betrayal was far greater than Suisan's, for this time, much as he hated to admit it, his heart was truly engaged. And that was why he needed time to think.

How much was lie? How much truth? And why in the name of all that was holy did he care? If this was indeed the woman God wanted for him, why was he making it all so difficult?

Not wanting witnesses to what must be said, and aware that delaying the inevitable would solve nothing, Adam instructed a servant to send Lady Gwenyth to him in his solar. Then he retired there to await her.

While he waited for her, he read the letter Seamus had given him from Bruce. And what he read nearly sent Adam to his knees. The promises Gwenyth had alluded to were not promises of love to Daron. Better that they had been. Her promises amounted to treason. Adam's loyalties were on a disastrous collision course.

His enemy. For so she must be so long as she served Balliol. Perhaps he could persuade her to change allegiance. But why would she? For a marriage and a man she didn't want?

Adam held his head in his hands as he sorted through his tangled emotions. He must be sure both his anger and his daft heart were firmly in control before confronting her. His country's future and his king's very life depended on him.

GWENYTH APPROACHED THE SOLAR with trepidation. What would Adam do now that her identity was known? Could she find Daron quickly and escape before the full truth was revealed? Steeling herself for what would no doubt be a horrible confrontation, she knocked crisply at the door. A moment of silence answered, as if Adam hesitated to see her. His gruff “Enter” did little to assuage her fears.