The chambers suddenly seemed overly-warm, and droplets of perspiration rolled down her back under her chemise. She wanted to lift her hair from her sweaty neck, but her fingers were frozen in the fold of her skirt. Yet his patient nature emboldened her.
“Glen Trool, ‘twas your strategy?”
James inclined his head. “Aye. The funnel strategy. ‘Twas successful and the Bruce had his first true victory over the English. We repeated it again here to overtake this keep. But ‘tis no’ my idea. I could only wish to be so clever.”
Tosia stiffened and tilted her head. It wasn’t his idea? But he said the rumors had been accurate! Why did he speak with such mystery?
“I dinna understand. Ye said ye are the king’s tactician. Was it another adviser’s idea then? How did ye get credit?”
At this, James’s check twitched, and if Tosia didn’t know any better, she might think he was hiding a smile. But this was Black Douglas. This man didn’t smile — he had no softness in him.
“No’ quite. I was the one to speak the idea to the Bruce, but the idea itself wasn’t mine. I was educated in France and studied there most of my life. I wasn’t always a wild demon, aye?”
He raised a sardonic eyebrow, and Tosia’s hand flew to her mouth. He admitted to being such a creature?
“The idea belongs to a Spartan king in Ancient Greece. King Leonidas, have ye heard of him?” Tosia shook her head. Her own education was limited to a few pieces of literature, basic sums, and sewing. She had heard of Ancient Greece but had learned little about such an enigmatic place.
“He was a king in a tight place, much like our own Bruce. A better organized and more powerful enemy, the Persian empire, was knocking at their gates, and King Leonidas was not going to bend his knee, no matter what the Persian king demanded. They forced the Persian army to thread in a thin line through the Pass of Thermopylae and managed to keep the Persian army at bay until reinforcements arrived. I was taking a lesson from a much smarter man — so smart a man, our own beloved William Wallace did the same thing at Stirling Bridge. I only took a brilliant historical strategy and shared it with our king so he might put it into effect.”
Tosia’s whole body stilled as she tried to understand what James was saying. He wasn’t architect of monstrous military strategy? That these tactics were used in wars before now?
He again relaxed against the stones, so casual, as though they were discussing the harvest and not the history of death and destruction. So she asked another question.
“The larder?” She could barely speak the word — it came out as a breath. At this James stood straight, and her heart stopped in her chest. Was that it? Had she crossed a line?
“Aye, the larder.” He grumbled, yet his eyes, those hard stormy eyes, were not as hard as she remembered.
He took a step toward her, and Tosia backed up until the post of his bed struck her back. The air left her lungs as she struggled to take in any breath. Had she angered him? Was he going to take his fury out on her?
“The larder,” he repeated. He had halted a few feet from her, close enough that she could reach out and touch that fearsome, broad chest, if she so desired. How could anyone dare to desire?
“It seems so dreadful, aye? Such a dark and dire act, to condemn so many men to a vicious death and burn it all to the ground. To poison the water. To make the land uninhabitable. To curse that piece of land for eternity? To seemingly curse my own soul? Even Shabib had a bit of a qualm with it, but even he too, came around. If ‘tis possible he may hate the English more than I.”
He admitted it!Was he cursed? Tosia’s hand crept to her neck as her eyes remained riveted on his face.
“Do ye think I acted without thought? Too aggressively? That ‘twas too much evil for one man?”
Tosia’s mind swirled, and she was certain she was going to faint. She was alone in the chambers of an admitted demon! The words stuck to her tongue.
“The larder,” he said in an almost nostalgic tone as he rubbed his beard. “Aye, seems dramatic, but ‘twasn’t my idea either.”
Was he telling himself that to make it easier? “Another ancient tactic?” she ventured.
That twitching cheek again. “The Romans. After they destroyed Carthage in battle, having attacked homes one by one in a horrific slaughter, they then took apart the city stone by stone, and then burned the rest of it to the ground, so that Carthage might never rise against Rome again. Razing the enemy’s land is another historic military tactic, and one I believed sent a message to the English.”
Dinna ask!Tosia commanded to her lips, but they disobeyed.
“What message is that?” she asked, her voice wavering under the looming shadow James cast in the firelight — a devil from the very flames of hell.
“That we Scots are willing to watch the world burn to secure our freedom, no matter who we kill.”
“No matter who?” Tosia choked out. Was her own life at stake?
In a flash, James was nearly touching her, his hellish heat enveloping her, and his wide palm cupping her cheek. She had nowhere to go to avoid his touch, her back was compressed so hard into the bedstead, she was sure it left marks.
“Of the English, lass. What we do, what I do, is for my people, my country, and I would do anything, anything, to have their freedom from these violent oppressors. And for ye, my bride, though we may no’ have sought this arrangement for ourselves, that vow extends to you. I’d burn the world to ash for ye, to protect ye.”
He moved in closer, so his muscled chest brushed against her breasts, and with his hand, lifted her face to his. His breath was warm on her skin, scented with mead and bread.
