“But”—the king’s gaze leveled on her—“once you have revealed the location of the other tunnels, for your own safety, you will remain hidden during the attack. And, after Latharn is recaptured, you will turn over your father’s ledgerto Lord Lenox.”
Jaw tight, she nodded. “I agree, Sire.”
The tent flap opened. The outline of a lean man donned in a vestment shadowed the entry. He stepped inside, bowed. “Your Grace.”
“Father Morref.” The Bruce stood. “I appreciate your haste.”
“’Tis my pleasure, Sire.” He nodded toward Aiden and then Gwendolyn. “When I received the king’s writ earlier this day regarding one of his noble’s betrothal, I was honored to be asked to perform the sacrament of marriage.”
Betrothal? Aiden shot his sovereign a cool look, understanding the satisfied gleam in the royal’s eyes. After he’d briefed King Robert this morning, ’twould seem the Bruce had decided their fate. The ploy of moments to gain both their agreements to wed was naught but a formality. From the ire in Gwendolyn’s eyes, a fact she realized as well.
“Your name?” the cleric asked.
“Aiden MacConnell, Earl of Lenox.” Emotion stormed him as he stated his father’s title, a designation now his. The moment felt like a dream, except the priest’s presence left Aiden dredged in reality.
Father Morref’s gaze shifted to her. “And yours, lass?”
For a long moment she remained silent, and then she lifted her chin. “Lady Gwendolyn Murphy.”
The Bruce withdrew a ruby pouch from within his garb, walked over, and placed the sack in Aiden’s palm.
Aiden unwrapped the velvet folds, stilled. Inside lay a small gold band, the delicate circle forged with a Celtic weave embracing a large emerald along with several smaller rubies. On a sharp breath, he met the king’s gaze. “I thank you, Sire.”
With a nod, the king stepped back.
The priest slid his finger beneath the silk ribbon marking a page and opened the Bible. “Lord Lenox, please move closer to your betrothed.”
Aiden glanced over.
Face ashen, she staredstraight ahead.
A sense of doom settled over him as he stepped to her side. The priest’s words blurred in his mind, echoing those he’d heard at Latharn Castle. When asked, he, as Gwendolyn, gave the appropriate response.
The priest lay her icy fingers on Aiden’s palm. “The ring.”
On an unsteady breath, Aiden slid the ornatering in place.
The priest smiled and made the sign of the cross. “I now pronounce youman and wife.”
A satisfied smile curved the king’s lips. “I congratulate you both.”
“I thank you, Sire,” Aiden replied, the weight of the responsibilities ahead fisted in his chest. Their marriage was but the first of many challenges ahead. After their castles were reclaimed, another, greater battle stood between them, this one personal.
Gwendolyn curtsied, her movements wooden. “I thank you, Your Grace.”
Warmth shimmered in the priest’s eyes as he stowed the Bible beneath his vestments. “I wish you both every blessing.” With a bow to the king, he departed. As he exited, for a moment the camp beyond came into view; knights sparring, pots hanging over cookfires, and warriors tending to their weapons as if this were an ordinary day when ’twas anything but.
“Lord Lennox,” the Bruce said, reclaiming Aiden’s gaze. “Once you, Lady Gwendolyn, and your men have devised a plan of attack, report to me. I will addressany concerns.”
“Aye, Sire. Given the urgency of the situation, we depart at first light.”
The Bruce nodded. “A decision I anticipated. I sent instructions earlier to my master-at-arms to ensure themen are ready.”
Aiden bowed. “I thank you, Sire.” After Gwendolyn curtsied, he took her arm.
“Lady Gwendolyn.”
At the king’s voice, she paused, and Aiden turned at her side.
