“At first light.” The monarch took a sip from his goblet, then shot him a hard look. “The earl’s party was attacked about a league from St Andrews by a band of John MacDougall ofArgyll’s men.”
“The Earl of Dunsmore explained the details of the assault, Sire. With John MacDougall of Argyll’s forces severely cut, and his begging the young English king for supplies, ’twasa brazen move.”
“’Twas. I have ordered a contingent to accompany your party to ensure you reach their ship. My guard will remain in port until you have sailed. Once at sea, keep watch for English ships intent on severing my attempt to gain Irish support. If they see Lord Sionn’s cog departing Scotland, theywill attack.”
Rónán nodded. “Aye, Your Grace.”
His face relaxed, and he sat back. Mischief sparkled in the king’s eyes as he swirled the amber liquid in his cup. “Did Lord Dunsmore also mention that Lord Sionn has a beautiful daughter?”
At the king’s measuring look, Rónán stilled. Was he the subject of the king’s next matchmaking ploy? No, he was being oversensitive. His thoughts shifted to Stephan’s amusement at Rónán’s thwarted attempt to surprise Katherine.
“Aye, we have met,” Rónán said with reluctance.
The Bruce set down his goblet. “How so?”
In brief, he shared the chaos of his and Lathir’s encounter.
With a smile, the king laughed. “An intriguing way to meet a lass. She is a strong and intelligent woman.” He took a deep drink. “One who needs a man of caliberat her side.”
Rónán cleared his throat. “With the dreadful impression I made, Sire, I assure you, I have far from earned her favor.” Hersgian dubhpointed at him was, he recalledgrimly, proof.
“Mayhap a feisty lass is exactlywhat you need.”
In midsip, Rónán almost choked on the powerful spirit. “I am here to serve you, Your Grace, not seek a wife.” God’s truth, he needed to change the subject before his sovereign became enamored with the idea of pairing him with Lady Lathir.
With the monarch’s power of persuasion, ability to bestow upon him a title, and Lord Sionn’s Templar ties, ’twould take little to convince the Irish noble to agree to such a union. The disappointment of having to leave in the morning and not spend more time with Stephan and Katherine faded against thoughts of escaping before the king decided he and the earl’s daughter should wed.
* * * *
A thin mist clung to the air as Lathir dismounted. The strong scent of fish, decaying seaweed, and salt filled the air as the first rays of sunlight struggled through thedense overcast.
She glanced around, thankful to arrive safely at their ship, anxious to be out to sea. After their party’s attack days before, only when the shore faded from sight would she relax.
“I will take your mount, my lady,” her personal guard said.
“I thank you, Gearalt.” The soft thud of hooves on dirt and the guards’ voices rumbled around them as she joined the tall, stocky man who’d raised her.
Blond hair secured behind his neck in a leather strip framed his intimidating features, and his face settled into a harsh frown as he strode toward the ship. Eyes sharp with intelligence shifted toward her. “You were quiet during the trip.”
“I am anxious to be home.” The truth.
“The attack stilltroubles you.”
She grimaced and said with equal candor, “I doubt that I will ever forget taking a life, regardless whether ’tis an enemyand deserved.”
He grunted, leaving her to her silence. Nor would she reveal that what disturbed her as well were her dreams the previous night of Sir Rónán. Something about him had left her unsettled. Several times she’d woken with images of him filling her mind.
To be fair, their first meeting had been something, well, unusual. In those few heated moments, how could she not notice his well-muscled form, confident air, or grayish green eyes that pierced her with such intensity ’twas as if he could see to her soul. His every move proclaimed him a warrior, a man who did naught without purpose, and one who, with his smooth words and manner, no doubt drew manya woman’s eye.
Since her betrothed, Domhnall Ruadh mac Cormaic, had died in battle against the English more than two years before, never had another man earned more than her passing interest. That this Irish knight had the audacity to invade her dreams was unacceptable.
Though they hadn’t spoken since they’d departed St Andrews, she was aware that he rode with their soldiers.
Unwittingly, she glanced around and found him. The knight was talking with the leader of the contingent King Robert had provided as protection for their journey to their cog.
Her father followed her gaze. “The Bruce speakshighly of him.”
Lathir sighed, understanding his intent. A year after Domhnall’s death, he’d advised her ’twas time to seek another man to wed. Her heart still hurting, she’d refused, doubting she’d ever recover from the heartbreak. Nor had he given up pressing her on the issue, a frequent discussion that left her weary. The knight’s lack of title mattered little to her father. He judged men by their caliber, not the title they bore. For a king’s favorite, nobility could be granted with but a wave of the hand.
