Page 74 of The Forest Bride

“I know your great-grandfather gave it to you. But there may be another way.”

“I must have it, and soon.” She let go of his hand, rummaged in the ferns, came up with nothing. “I do not want much in life, Duncan. But I desperately want Lilias and the others safe soon. Very soon.”

“That will happen.”

“And I want my family safe in a land cursed with strife. I want you safe,” she added, glancing over her shoulder. “And I need the Rhymer’s blue stone in my keeping.”

“I see.” Frowning, he needed a little distance to regain his calm. His anger at De Soulis on her behalf muddled his thoughts. But this girl could send him reeling off balance like no other; over the years he had encountered women, certainly, but he had allowed none to breach his heart. Now, opening to her, he caught himself thinking on impulse, with his heart rather than his head. He was not used to that.

“Lilias will be safe. I promise. Lass, if I could give you whatever you want, I would. Your kin secure. A safe home. That bothersome brooch. You have your bow already, so you can shoot whomever you want.”

“You are still standing.” A smile quirked.

“Thank the saints.”

“And I want Scotland free. I hope we agree on that. You do work for Edward.” Another glance, this one uncertain.

“I want Scotland free too,” he said quietly. “I only work for Edward when I must. I want you to understand that.”

“Then tell me more about it.” She turned full to him, eyes green, wide, cheeks pink, reddish-bronze hair mussed and lovely, sliding out of its braiding. Her beauty was simple, pure, constant. His body yearned. His heart ached for her.

“I will.” He reached out to brush away a spiraled curl that drifted over her brow. He wanted to kiss the troubled look from her eyes.

“Finding Lilias is by far the most important, and the missing men. We have lingered too long. And with them, the cloak pin.”

“Aye. Tell me this. William de Soulis said something this morning that bothered you. I could not hear, but I saw its effect. I was about to throttle the man,” he added.

“I suspected as much and pulled you away. He asked me if the brooch was mine. He wanted to know if it had belonged to my great-grandfather.”

Something Lennox had said tapped at his memory. “Why would he ask that?”

“He must have learned about Thomas’s stone somehow. But how would he guess that I might have something the Rhymer owned?”

“Your father. Inheritances are often discussed during betrothal negotiations. The groom is told what the bride will bring to the marriage. It could be that.”

“Why guess the brooch was mine?”

“You were anxious about it, which caught his attention. He might have recalled that you inherited valuables from True Thomas.” He saw her swift scowl. “And Menteith might know of the inheritance, too. Sheriffs are often made aware of important wills in case of disputes. Your Rhymer was a notable man.”

“Could the knights who ambushed us have known too?”

“Possibly.”

“Surely they wanted Lilias. But why me? For the brooch?”

“A daughter of Keith of Kincraig, and a valuable broach belonging to Thomas? Aye.” The memory emerged. “The knowledge of it could have come directly from King Edward. Lennox told me that the king knew that your sister owned a particular book.”

“Ah! And Menteith had the brooch, which also means he has Lilias.”

“It is coming together.” He turned to walk with her, the hound between them. Margaret reached out to pat Mungo’s shoulder.

“If you need proof, my siblings know that pin. My brother would recognize it.”

“I need no more proof.”

She stopped, her eyes bright with relief and hope. “Good. Now we will do this!”

He held up a cautioning hand. “A little more time. Constantine Murray promised the loan of more men. We do not have enough Brechlinn men to make an impression if we must confront Menteith.”