Page 26 of The Guardian’s Bride (Highland Secrets #3)

“T his way,” a king’s guard said the next morning as he led Rowena, Sir Malise, and Sir Peter toward the royal tents. Larger and more finely appointed than the dozens of other tents scattered over the meadow, the royal tents were marked with flags showing Edward’s lions rampant. He was there, then. Rowena’s stomach flipped a bit.

Walking through the camp, she noticed a large roped-off area where several knights and soldiers practiced with swords and pikes, while others groomed and exercised horses. On poles around this area flew various banners—among them, the dragon banner, a cylindrical red cloth dragon that filled with wind when carried aloft.

Edward’s knights raised the dragon banner before them only when the king sent them out to declare no mercy. Chivalry ceased to exist under that banner. She shivered at the gruesome reminder that this was a war camp focused on conquering Scotland. She walked on, her cloak billowing in the wind. On impulse while dressing, she had turned it to show its plaid lining: her own banner declaring her a Scotswoman.

Lifting her head proudly, she walked beside Comyn. He had not bound her wrists when he fetched her from the washer-woman’s tent—a relief for her stiff hands, irritated skin, and peace of mind. She did not care to go the length of the camp with her hands tied; her presence already attracted attention. As she passed, men turned, paused. A noblewoman here was unusual, Bessie had said. Or did they know what she did not?

Dread rolled through her as she wondered what awaited her in the king’s tent.

Approaching the largest tent, Malise rudely poked her waist to hurry her along, then took her elbow in a sham of courtesy. She tried to pull away, but he held tight.

The guard pulled back the curtained doorway. “Your Grace. Sir Malise Comyn and Sir Peter Abernethy with—a lady.” Malise did not give her name. The guard motioned for them to wait outside while he disappeared into the shadowed interior.

“Abernethy,” Malise snapped, “go see if Brother Hugo is with the king. I have not seen him today.” Abernethy ducked inside.

“Malise,” Rowena said. He looked at her in surprise when she spoke. A question was tearing at her; she had to ask. “Is Aedan MacDuff following? Where is he?”

“I sent men out this morning to look for them. I expect you will see him soon.”

“You used me to lure him here.”

“I am hopeful my trap will work,” he said. “Edward will be pleased that I snared MacDuff so easily. Hunting both of you was tedious. Had I known you were on Lauder’s longship in the firth that day, I could have boarded it and saved this inconvenience.”

“I wish you had done so. MacDuff would have thrown you into the sea.”

He laughed. “Before you see the king, I should tell you something first.”

Fear spiked through her. “What is it?”

His dark-eyed gaze slid about the area and returned to bore into her. “Edward did not send me to find you because of the charge of poisoning. Not quite.”

“Then why am I here?” She tried to jerk her arm away, but he held fast.

“He sent me to find you because he is ill and knows he is dying.”

“What!” She glared up at him. “But I would have returned if I had known. I told the king I would come back if he sent for me. But you twisted it—to this!”

He shrugged. “Somewhat. You were accused, you escaped. He was not told all.”

“You abducted me, you were willing to hurt a child—does he know that? Are the charges false?”

“The charges are real and you will answer to them.” He glanced around. “I had to get you here quickly, but I guessed you would not travel with me.”

“That is true. But now that we are here, I will help Edward if I can.” She looked away. Helping this king, despite what he had done to the Scots, to her first husband, to Aedan and his family, pulled at her. But years ago she had promised herself, and Aunt Una, and Grandda Thomas, to help others. It was part of her, and hard to deny. But she would not use the Rhymer’s crystal. She would not.

“His health is fragile. Do not excite him by pleading your innocence. He may have forgotten what he was told of that. But if he is reminded and becomes angered over it, a temper fit could kill him.”

“Ah. Now I see,” she said. “If Edward dies, you would not be rewarded. You dragged me here so you could earn praise and reward for your service. And you used me to lure Aedan MacDuff, another prize for you. What else do you want?” The sudden realization drove through her like ice. “You want the crystal.”

“The Rhymer’s charm stone. The one you used for me. I hear you wear it.”

Stunned, she stared. “What—”

“The washer-woman told me you wear a valuable crystal jewel. Did you think she was your friend—or mine?” With a finger, he hooked the silver chain around her neck and slid it upward. She clutched it in place and locked her gaze with his.

“This is not what you think it is,” she said.

“She still denies it! Give it to me. Better yet, agree to be my wife and you will be pardoned. I will see to it. We will both reap reward.”

“Nay, and nay.” She held the stone against her. Another thought came clear then. “And you want me to treat Edward with the stone, so you will get the praise for that too. Even more, you want him cured. If he dies, you lose the advantage you crave.”

He sucked in a breath; she had hit on a truth. “We cannot let the king die. You are here to help him.”

“If he were to die, you would have no more protection for your past deeds and ill intentions. If Edward is gone and Bruce wins the day, you, a disloyal Scot, would suffer.”

“I believe,” he said, “the king would be very interested to know who your betrothed is. He trusts you, or did—so that would be a betrayal. Edward does not tolerate betrayal well.” He cocked a brow.

She quailed, knowing that was true. If Edward heard she would marry Aedan, he would be enraged. And if Aedan walked into the trap Malise had set, she feared the consequences.

The guard pulled back the tent flap. “The king will see you now.”

“Word was, days ago,” Patrick Wemyss said, “that Edward decided he must show sovereign strength and lead troops to attack Scotland with the dragon banner flying. He means to terrorize the Scots and crumble their resistance.”

“He has enough temper and mania to believe that would work,” Aedan said. He reined in his horse on a hilltop beside Patrick, Brian, and the few guards with them. The red sandstone walls of Carlisle Castle were bright against the summer green of the surrounding hills. Yet something was not right, he thought. He did not see the king’s personal banner flying on the parapet.

“A pack of damned Scots will not be welcome down there,” Brian said, gesturing toward the castle. “We would be arrested—or slaughtered.”

“The king may have ridden out already if he means to try to invade Scotland. If so, they have made camp somewhere. Malise will go there. But where?”

“There must be a war camp within several miles, likely along the Scottish border,” Patrick agreed. “We could ride north and see what we find.”

“Wait. Something may happen. Patrols have been going in and out of the castle all morning,” Aedan said.

The sun climbed as they remained on the hillside behind a screen of scrub and trees. Looking out over the long meadow and a vast woodland beyond, he noticed men riding along a track that cut a winding path through the meadowland. They were heading for Carlisle.

Aedan shaded his eyes against the sun. The men were English soldiers by their gear and shields. Just another patrol. One of the knights paused on the road to look around, shading his eyes as Aedan did. For an instant, Aedan felt their gazes connect.

“We have been seen,” Brian said.

The lone rider cut away from the patrol to head across the meadow toward the hill where the Scots sheltered behind some trees. Sir Patrick swore low and set a hand to the sword at his back.

“Hold.” Aedan recognized the design of a shield he had not seen for a while—a white field with a band of red and gold vertical stripes. Keith. As the knight rode, he pushed back his chainmail hood, revealing a gleam of golden hair in the summer sunshine.

Aedan guided his horse to the hilltop and lifted a hand.

“What are you doing, sir?” Patrick hissed. Aedan rode past him and down the slope to the meadow, his horse loping through the grasses toward the advancing rider.

He rode closer, lifting a hand in a sign of peace. “Henry Keith!”

“Identify yourself!” Henry reined in, hand on the sword hilt beside his saddle.

“I know your shield. Sir Henry Keith, I trust? It has been years.”

“Do I know you? Think before you answer, Scotsman. I am deputy sheriff in Selkirkshire, and here under King Edward. Who are you?”

“MacDuff. Sir Aedan MacDuff of Castle Black in Fife.”

Henry startled visibly, his horse echoing that in a sidestep. “Aedan MacDuff! I did not recognize you.”

“I shaved.” Aedan touched his chin.

“Where is Rowena?”

“I came here to find her, so I have the same question.” He guided his horse closer.

“I had a message from Lauder of the Bass regarding her,” Henry said. “A shock to learn she was falsely accused and taken to Yester, then escaped and somehow ended up in your company. What the devil, sir! If harm comes to her—”

“No harm would ever come to her in my care, sir. She was safe with me in Fife until Malise Comyn got hold of her. Edward ordered him to bring Rowena to him. My friends and I have pursued them day and night to this place.”

“Malise, that bastard!” Henry rode closer. “Edward is camped with his troops a few miles from here. He has it in his head to invade Scotland again.”

“I have naught polite to say about that.”

Henry huffed. “I saw Malise this morning at the royal camp. I had no idea he might have Rowena. She will be there unless he has moved her. He sent a patrol out here, and I came with them. We were told to search for renegade Scots. I presume that describes you and your friends.”

“We need your help, Henry.”

He shifted the reins to turn his horse. “Fetch your friends. I will take you there.”

As the guard beckoned them into the tent, Rowena jerked out of Malise’s hold to step ahead of him. Immediately the stifling atmosphere inside the tent struck her. Two braziers rippled heat in the July warmth, and the tent was cluttered with furnishings, carpets, stacked chests and boxes, a tabletop thick with documents. Guards stood in every corner, a clerk scribbled at a table, and Brother Hugo sat in a corner studying a book. He glanced at her with no hint of surprise.

Edward sat in a wooden chair, high-backed with armrests, the chair draped with furs and robes, but he looked uncomfortable. Gaunt and pale, he leaned awkwardly on the chair’s arms. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hands trembled, and he was shivering. When he saw her, he straightened.

“Lady Rowena. So you came.”

“I did, Sire. What can I do for you?”

He gestured for her to approach, but held up a hand when Malise moved too. “Stay back, Comyn. Lady, did you bring potions? What you left us is gone.”

“I did not, Sire. I came in a rush with no time to prepare.”

“I suppose Sir Malise fears I will die any moment. I will not. I just need what you gave me before to give me the strength to do what I must do.”

“May I ask what that is, Your Grace?”

“The Scots need to see a mighty monarch at the head of an army. They refuse to show obedience and even crowned a so-called king—Bruce,” he snarled. “I rode out today wearing armor, riding my warhorse. I want them to see that I will not back down. Tomorrow I will drive my army farther into Scotland.” A spasm of pain crossed his craggy face.

“Sire, I cannot aid you for that cause. You know that I am Scottish.”

“Aye, but a woman.” He waved a hand. “Get me those tinctures.”

“I do not have them, Sire, nor means to prepare them.”

With a bony finger, he beckoned her closer. “Then give me that charm stone that healed Comyn when he was doomed,” he said low. “Where is it?”

“Sire, if I could find ingredients to make a potion,” she said, hoping to deflect him. “If Brother Hugo has anything—”

Edward snapped his fingers and Hugo came forward, frowning.

“Brother, you have potions and tinctures here. Share some ingredients with me.” Rowena listed some herbs she might need.

“Sire, there is little here,” Hugo said, addressing the king. “I have some ingredients at the castle if the lady will go there. A war camp is not the place for her.” He shot Malise a dark look as if to reprimand him.

Rowena would not agree to go to a castle where so many Scottish prisoners had vanished. “I feel the king’s need is more immediate. What do you have here?”

“Only what his doctor, John Gadsden, prepared. The king seems to think whatever you made for him was helpful. Willow and something—peppermint, perhaps. Or did you include something more—precious?”

“I left the recipe with you. You know what was in it.”

“Whatever you have, Lady Rowena, give it over now. That includes the stone,” Edward snapped. “Hugo, go back to your corner. Bring the doctor’s remedy later.”

“Sire,” Hugo said, and backed away.

Edward leaned toward Rowena. “Give me the Rhymer’s stone,” he hissed. “Where is it? Sir Malise said you would bring it. He is to be commended for his help.”

She shuddered with resentment, yet against all reason, she felt tempted to use the crystal—an old man needed its power. King or tyrant, he was suffering. But she could not do that. There was a limit, she realized, though it wrenched at her.

And she was loath to expose the crystal here; Edward would steal it; Malise would use it to gain privilege; and she had promised to protect it always.

But there was something else she could offer, nearly forgotten in the frantic, frightening rush from Fife to this place. “Sire, I have another treatment that could help.”

Reaching into her embroidered purse, she brought out the little green glass bottle that she had filled from a queen’s pool in the cave beneath MacDuff’s castle.

“How the devil do we get in there?” Aedan asked no one in particular.

Hidden in a strip of woodland, he stood with Henry, Brian, Patrick and the sheriff’s guardsmen. Through the leafy tree cover, he saw dozens of tents sheltering hundreds of English soldiers. The large tent at the center flew the king’s royal banner. Beyond it, he saw clustered flags that included dragon banners for patrols to carry.

“We need a reason to walk in there,” Patrick said. “Even then, it will be difficult to take out a girl accused of trying to kill the king.”

“Poisoning—impossible. Not my sister.” Henry shook his head.

“If we could prove she is innocent, we could argue to take her away, provided Edward would let her go,” Patrick said. “Since Henry and I both have sheriffdoms, we have some authority to try that.”

“Accuse Malise of abducting her and argue for her innocence,” Brian said.

Aedan straightened as a solution occurred to him. “Henry was sent out with others to find Scottish renegades. Take me in there with you.”

“Capture you?” Henry asked.

“You would give yourself up?” Brian stared at him.

“Trade me for Rowena.”

“They would kill you,” Patrick said bluntly.

“I will take the risk. Barter me for Rowena. Edward might agree.”

“And then what would you do?” Brian asked.

Aedan stared at the camp. “Patrick, marry my sister,” he said. “Take care of Colban. Henry, see that Rowena is happy. I trust you all.”

“You are a fool,” Brian said.

“A fool in love does foolish things, they say. Aye, Henry,” he said, seeing the surprise on the man’s face, “I love her. Take me in.” He held out his hands to be bound.

“Some of us could rescue her and the rest could fight beside you,” Patrick said.

“Get her safely away, yourselves as well. I will think of something. I have escaped dungeons with walls eight feet thick. That camp is all cloth tents. I could tear through one of those with my teeth.” He smiled. His friends did not.