He smothered the blistering rush of need at her remembered scent entangled in the bedsheets, how he’d crumpled the linen between his hands in a pathetic attempt to crush the desire smoldering inside.
“When the time comes,” Aiden said, “I will deal with Lady Gwendolyn. If the Englishmen are here to join forces with Comyn, we must stall their departure.”
Cailin grunted. “The bastards are not likely to stay put.”
A wry smile curved Aiden’s mouth. “Mayhap they will.”
Rónán stared at him as if he had two heads. “Are you daft? There is bloody little you can do to prevent thousands of troops from marching east to confront our king.”
“If they are here to support Comyn, a move I believe the Earl of Balfour played a part in arranging, then there is a way.” Impatience whipped through Aiden, and he began to pace. At the hearth, he paused, turned. “I shall explain to whoever commands the English that King Robert’s troops are on the move and headed toward an unexpected position. That Lord Comyn has relayed, through me, a request for them to remain here. Once Comyn has the Bruce’s location, he will lead a force here to plan an attack against Scotland’s king.”
Rónán grunted. “You think Lord Balfour’s arrival was a strategic maneuver?”
“Indeed,” Aiden replied. “The marriage strengthens Comyn’s power, positions a noble skilled in the ways of battle to unite with the English.”
“Given Lord Balfour’s fierce loyalty to Comyn,” Cailin said, “the tactic makes sense.”
A frown linedRónán’s brow as he glanced from one man to the other. “Except the earl didna carry a missive for the English.”
Aiden gave a slow nod. “Easily remedied, my friend. Given the sensitivity of the mission, I will explain that Comyn ordered all plans to be passed only throughword of mouth.”
“Which blasted makes sense.” Cailin walked to the window, looked out, turned. “How long do you think you can keep them here?”
“A fortnight, mayhap more. Long enough for the Bruce to gather his forces and make a retaliatory plan.” Aiden glanced at Rónán. “I have changed my mind. I canna risk something going wrong and our sovereign being uninformed. Leave now.”
TheTemplar nodded.
Voices in the corridor grew louder. A knock sounded at the door. “Lord Balfour, the guards you requested are ready.”
“’Tis Sir Pieres,” Aiden whispered. “My thanks,” he called out.” He met each of his men’s gazes. “Stay alert. God helpus if we fail.”
* * * *
Hours later, the details of his meeting with the English pouring through his mind, Aiden entered Gwendolyn’s chamber. A fire blazed in the hearth, spilling wavering shadows along the walls and the arched beams overhead, much like the anger now fracturing his calm.
He shoved the door closed. God’s sword, the situation was worse than they’d believed. He strode to the small table, poured a glass of wine, and downed the drink in one gulp.
Two short raps sounded at the entry.
With a muttered curse, he shoved the goblet aside, strode over, jerkedopen the door.
Cailin hurried inside. “Before you ask, the serving maid informed me you were here. As for your wife, she isin the bailey.”
Fresh rushes swirled on the floor as Aiden closed the entry with a firm snap. “Good.”
“Do you think anyone aboard ship recognized you?” theTemplar asked.
“After the many countries I have traveled through, I worried that might happen, but I dinna believe so, but I canna risk further contact with the English crew.” Aiden paused. “Rónán?”
“Is safely away.” Cailin gave a dry smile. “I returned with four rabbits. Not much, but ’twill squelch any suspicions of my departure’s intent.”
“Did anyone question Rónán’s absence?”
His friend shook his head. “With the servants busy preparing for the incoming Englishmen, I doubt whether anyone noticed he did not return.”
“Still, if anyone inquires,” Aiden said, refusing to take any chances, “inform them Rónán pursues a stagin the forest.”
“I will.”
