Song of the Highlands: The Cambels (The Medieval Highlanders) (48 page)

A flutter of misgiving
made her heart skip a beat. Still she did not bend, saying, “I said
nay. I
want
an
audience with my King.”

Robert’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Morgana shot a glance in the sheriff’s
direction, then turned it back on Robert. “You shall see.”

Robert’s gaze left hers and settled briefly
on the sheriff as well before resting once more on her. He lifted a
brow, gave a brief nod, then returned his gaze forward.

For an extended moment,
Morgana’s gaze remained on Robert’s profile.
So strong...so brave...so...
Her
bones went liquid.
...manly-fair.

But, Vika fires his
desire, bears his babe.
With a sigh, she
forcefully closed her eyes, breaking Robert’s momentary and
unwitting spell on her.

“We are almost arrived. You will sleep,”
Robert said, misinterpreting her body’s response to him as
weariness.

She’d not argue the matter again with him.
He’d learn soon enough that she’d not be daunted by his fierce
demeanor into doing what e’er he demanded.

A half-hour later, and in spite of Robert’s
continued pressure for her to do his bidding and go to the chamber
given her, she and Robert stood before the dais that bore the
King’s throne in the chamber inside the abbey where he held his
court.

* * *

“I think it best that you leave after you’ve
said your piece to the King. I’d prefer a privy word with him,”
Morgana said softly without looking Robert’s way.

“Nay.”

“Aye.”

Robert could not ken why
Morgana was so determined to have an audience—nay, a
privy
audience—with King
William, but the sense of foreboding had been spreading in his gut
these past moments since being shown into the King’s court chamber.
His wife had become e’er more still, her visage e’er more grim, as
they stood there together, silent, and waiting. But now, with this
newest decree, the apprehension had grown immense.

What did she fear him hearing? Had the
priest done more to her than Robert had originally believed? Had
the apprentice? His fists clenched at his side, his blood raced
with the desire for violence—for vengeance, sure and swift—if
‘twere so. The thought of either that puling, corpsish priest, or
that lumbering, foul-smelling red-devil defiling his woman made his
skin crawl, made his gut wrench, made his temper explode.

“Aught that pertains to you is my business
as well. I’ll not leave.”

* * *

Morgana opened her mouth
to argue, but just then the doors to the chamber came open and they
both turned to look.
“Guy!”
she cried, hurrying toward him. “I forgot you
were at court!”

He dashed a sharp glance behind her to
Robert, then settled his gaze back on her. Taking her outstretched
hand as she dipped a quick courtesy, he said, “You’ve found your
voice,” he said with some surprise. “ ‘Tis as an angel’s.”

Morgana felt herself blush.

“And, nay, Lady Morgana, I’ve only just
returned.” He bowed, released her hand, and walked toward Robert,
saying, “I arrived here only this morn. The fire set by the men is
extinguished. There is damage to the new portion of the wall, and
there were a number of casualties among the men fighting the
blaze.”

“A fire!” Morgana exclaimed, rushing forward.
“At your keep?”

“Nay, at ours,” Robert said.

“At ours!” Morgana gripped Guy’s arm. “My
maid—Modron—is she well?”

“
All
who stayed inside the keep are
well,” he answered her, but a look passed between him and her
husband, and she knew—in her gut she knew—what the look
meant.

“My cousin is well then,
also?”
Stop this jealousy. Did you
want
her and her babe to
perish?

Guy looked confused. “I—”

Just then, the sound of shuffling footsteps
and muffled voices came from the hall behind the King’s throne, and
they all turned.

In the next moment, King William’s arrival
was announced and the three of them bowed in deference.

“You’ve routed Donnach’s minions?” the King
said to Robert once he was settled in his chair.

“Aye, my lord King,” he answered.

“Come, up with you—and you—and you, as well,
sweet lady. Robert MacVie, come forward, for I would speak with you
first.”

Morgana straightened, lifting her head, as
did Robert and Guy.

Robert complied, taking a step toward the
King. “But only one survived the fray, sire,” Robert told him. “He
is prisoned in the dungeon here and needs trying.”

“Donnach is not at court.
He is at
Ràthtref
, one of his lesser holdings near the abbey at
Dunkeld.”

“But sire, he is the instigator. The one we
truly seek—”

“Aye. Be still,” the King said, waving his
hand at Robert in a gesture to settle him down. “I will have a
warrant writ for his arrest and capture, and will strip him of his
title forthwith.”

“My thanks, sire. For
he
is
the man
behind the murderous scheme against my wife, there is no doubt. The
prisoner has confessed as much. What is more, there is a shipload
of copper bullion—from Donnach’s own mine—awaiting our prisoner
at
Inverleith
.”

A glint entered the King’s eye. “A load of
copper bullion, say you?” He rubbed the side of his finger against
his lip. “ ‘Twill bear Donnach’s mark. Aye, definitive proof. And
being that ‘twas to be used as payment for unlawful ends, ‘twill
become the property of the crown. I’ll send one of my captains with
his men to seize it.” He sucked in a breath and pounded his palms
on the arms of his chair. “Good. Good.”

“I would beg your leave to
go to
Ràthtref
to
deliver the warrant and bring him here to you myself,” Robert
said.

Nay! ‘Tis too
dangerous!
Morgana wanted to scream, but
dared not, as she’d not been given leave to speak.

The King’s eyes narrowed on Robert, evidently
pondering the request. Finally, he said, “Nay, you shall remain at
court. I want him brought here alive, and there is too much enmity
between your house and his for me to trust that outcome if I
allowed such.” There was a short pause before he continued, saying,
“I’ll need Morgunn here. I want him present at the trial of both
his half-brother, and the minion.”

Morgana’s breath
caught.
He knows my father survived the
ambush!
How? ‘Twas a battle, but again,
she anxiously held her tongue.

“That may prove difficult, sire. He was
maimed in his attempt to rescue his daughter from their clutches
before I learned of her capture.”

He survived the hanging!
Praise be.
But on the cusp of those
thoughts, trotted another set. She glared at Robert. “You know my
father lives?” she said, unable to stop herself from speaking this
time.

“Aye,” Robert whispered o’er his shoulder,
with a finger o’er his lips indicating she should not speak.

Suspicion gripped her insides, making her
heart race, and she could not obey. “For how long? And why did you
not tell me?”

As if from a league away, she heard the King
exclaim, “She’s found her tongue!” just as Robert replied in a
stern, chiding tone, “Later. After.” It sent Morgana’s temper
soaring.

She flew at him with all
the anger, betrayal, and shock she felt. “Nay! Now! You shall
tell-me-
now!
”

Robert caught her arms before she was able to
barrel into him and try to tumble him to the ground. “You are
fevered. You must rest,” he said, grunting as he tousled with her.
He was clearly trying to be gentle in his domination of her, and
his gaze held worry, but she would not be still—she was much too
vexed.

“Sire, you can see my wife’s humors are much
expended. I must take her to her chamber forthwith. I shall return
in a trice.”

“Aye, but quickly, quickly. I’ve others who
wish an audience.”

Morgana went still. If she was to voice her
request, ‘twould have to be now. Looking deeply into Robert’s eyes,
she said to the King, “I no longer wish to be wed to Robert MacVie.
I beg your aid in annulling my marriage contract.” The moment the
words were out, her anger fled, and in its place settled a cloak of
despair. As if outside herself, she watched Robert’s pupils
contract. Watched his jaw tighten. Watched his warm, gentle grasp
on her arms fall away. Watched him step back a pace and turn to
face his King once more.

“If it be her wish, then...’tis my wish as
well, sire,” he said.

“I will have her, my lord King, if Robert
will not,” Guy said, stepping forward.

Morgana could only blink at him.

“I’ll see you dead first,” Robert
growled.

A calculating gleam appeared in the King’s
gaze, and his eyes narrowed on first Robert, then on her. “If all
ends as is planned—and I see no reason why it should not—then you
will be a very wealthy heiress, indeed. I—and your father, of
course—will benefit mightily from a better alliance.”

“I knew it! I
knew
you wanted her for
your own,” Robert said to Guy, as if the King had not spoken. Nose
to nose, the two men glared into each other’s eyes, lungs
blowing.

“Aye, she’s a tasty morsel. And clearly, you
were not man enough for her.”

In a lighting flash, Robert punched him in
the gut. Guy staggered back a step, bent over and wheezing.

“Meet me on the tourney field, and we shall
see which of us is the man, and which the lad,” Robert snarled.

Guy lifted up, virile anger
darkening his countenance, and bumped chests with Robert, saying, “
‘Twill be my pleasure...
lass
.”

Robert roared, gripping the front of Guy’s
tunic in his fists. “Or, I could end you now.”

Guy gave a humorless laugh. “Or I you.”

“Nay, you’ll not! Either of you!” Morgana
said, wriggling herself between the two. Guy stepped back. Robert
did not. Where e’er her body touched his—her breasts, her belly,
her thighs—went up in flames.

“A tourney! Excellent idea!” the King
interjected, breaking the spell, and Morgana stumbled back.

Robert struggled to break eye contact, or so
it seemed to Morgana, but when he did, he turned his hot glare on
Guy, growling, “I should ne’er have trusted you!” He dug inside his
pouch and lifted out a very familiar scroll.

Morgana’s heart leapt into her throat.

Shoving it toward her, he
jabbed his finger in Guy’s direction, accusing,
“
He
is who you
were running to, not back to your nunnery! Admit it!” He dropped
his head and muttered under his breath, “Fool. Such a fool!” Then,
without bowing to his lord King, without another glance, another
word, he stormed out of the chamber, in direct defiance of
protocol.

Morgana whirled around to face the King.
“Please, sire, I beg you, do not punish my husband for his actions
just now. He is angry at me, and would ne’er slight you thus
otherwise, I know this, and I swear to it upon my life.”

“Be still, sweet lady,” the
King answered, his calculating gaze remaining on the door through
which Robert had just departed. When he turned it to her again, it
held a knowing look that she could not ken. “I have no desire to
punish, only to profit.” He leaned forward. “Tell me,” he said, in
a conspiratorial tone, “what was writ on that scroll your husband
brandished?” His eyes narrowed on Guy a moment then swung back to
penetrate her own. “
Were
you conspiring to leave him for this knight
before me?”

“Nay, sire. I... ‘Twas a letter to him
telling him I was on my way back to the nunnery.”

He sat back. “The nunnery? Why e’er would you
desire such? Has he been cruel? Has your life with him been so
disagreeable?”

Morgana blushed, bowed her head. “Nay,
sire.”

“Then why do you wish to make void your
alliance?”

Tears welled in her eyes and she fought
mightily the urge to give in to them. The effort, and the
remembered hurt, made her tremble. “Be-Because he loves my cousin,
has fathered a babe with her, my lord King. As I have not produced
an heir for him, and she has, I do not wish to stand in the way of
his duty to his clan, nor to her and their bairn.”

The King sat back, took in a deep breath,
then said finally, “I see.”

“And my petition,” Guy blurted into the
charged silence, “to wed with the lady Morgana, my lord King? Will
you consider it?”

Morgana whirled to face Guy, “Nay! Surely,
you were not in earnest. I—”

“Aye. If Morgunn agrees,
and if you offer the right bride price, I will consider your
suit.
If
I decide
to aid this lady in her cause.” He turned his gaze on Morgana and
studied her for a long, charged moment. Finally, he said, “Aye. I
will aid you in this pursuit to nullify your vows.”

Morgana’s heart dropped into her stomach,
and it began to churn. She’d done what she came to do. ‘Twas
over—or near to. So why did everything within her revolt? From
somewhere far away, she realized the King was still speaking to
her, and she gave herself a mental shake, struggling to listen.

“...others to see this day. A guard awaits
your exit,” the King said brusquely, “just outside these doors, he
will escort you to your chamber.” He leaned forward once again,
giving her a stern look and wagging a beringed finger at her. “And
you will stay within it until I send for you.”