His desired nap wasnot forthcoming. Robert the Bruce had hoped to sneak away later in the afternoon when a lull in the activity meant he could duck into his chambers and find some much needed rest.
It wasn’t to be. Just as he started to sneak away to the stairs, Lady Elayne joined her husband, Declan, with Torin and Caitrin in the hall. Torin informed the king that boats had arrived from the isles to the west, and those men could be seen on the horizon.
Finally, reinforcements from the wavering MacRuaidhrís and stout MacDonalds. Men flooded into the bailey like water from the Minch flooding the shoreline in the spring. Another fake smile, and more salutations.
James stepped into the hall with Tosia as Rudy MacRuaidhrí bowed low to the king. The Bruce stepped close to the man and bent his head so Rudy’s words were heard by his ears alone.
“Christina has been delivered of a boy,” Rudy commented, then straightened and smiled faintly at the rest of those in the hall.
The news came as a bittersweet relief. Christina had been swollen with child by Robert when he’d left North Uist at the end of winter. He’d told her he’d stay until the bairn was born, but Christina had waved him off, flippant as always.
“Lioslaith and Muira are close to care for me,” she’d told him, “and will attend me in my time. There is naught for ye to do, Robbie, but return to the mainland and do what God has set before ye. Be king.”
And he had obeyed, arriving with a small MacDonald party and a pack of hollow promises from the MacRuaidhrí’s that they’d soon join in the fray.
Yet here they were, and none were more surprised than the Bruce. The blur of faces careened before him until one man in particular stepped hesitantly through the door. The chatter in the hall died down, and the heat of summer dissipated as if summer itself turned a cold shoulder to Auchinleck hall.
James noted the terse change in the air and moved to stand in front of Tosia, guarding her from any potential harm or violence this shift wrought. His hand drifted down to rest on his sword hilt, always at the ready. Shabib, too, had entered the hall with James and followed his lead, shifting to stand closer to Lena and resting his long, dark fingers on his scimitar.
Declan MacCollough, conversely, rushed the man, his face a mask of rabid fury.
“Alistair MacNally! What possess ye to set foot on Scottish soil again, ye wee bastard!”
The crowd pushed back, allowing Declan to approach the smaller, compact-muscled man.
Declan’s tone was full of acerbic hatred, and Tosia cowered into James’s backside. “Do something,” she whispered to him. “Or ‘twill be bloodshed in the king’s hall.”
James eyed the scene, shared a glance with Shabib, then crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.
“Nay. I would see this unfold. Declan is no’ a man to insult his king that way. Something else burns under the surface, and I think it must be revealed.”
He leaned toward Tosia as she nestled closer, peeking from behind James and waiting for a fight in front of the king. The air in the room shifted again; now it sizzled, as if struck by cold lightening, and it seemed every hair on Tosia’s body stood on end. Why didn’t anyone else appear upset? Other than Declan, most faces appeared bemused, if wary, at what Declan might do.
Tosia looked to Lady Elayne to see what her reaction to her husband’s fiery temper might be, but instead of commanding anger, Tosia saw surprise, the hard edge to Elayne’s refined face softened at the humbled-appearing Alistair. Amongst the Highlanders and warriors, he seemed dwarfed, hiding among the MacRuaidhrí and MacDonalds.
Declan had reached the craven, wide-eyed man, and something in those eyes struck Tosia. The shape, the intensity . . . Elayne lifted her skirts and stepped quickly to her husband, laying a commanding hand on his upper arm.
Anger flared in Declan’s whiskey-hued eyes, as if someone had lit them on fire, but he halted himself from finishing the assent of his fist into the man’s face. Tosia was enthralled with the power Elayne wielded with a mere touch of her hand. What mysterious power did that woman contain? Even the most powerful men did her bidding without question.
“Lane, ye must let me.” Declan’s voice rolled like a low thunder to Tosia’s ears. “ I never had my retribution against him for what he did to ye.”
What had this sorrowful man done? Tosia flicked her eyes back and forth from Elayne to the man and it struck her — their face shape, their eyes, the curve of their jaw, all shared. Was this man kin to Elayne? A cousin? A brother? What had he done to her that Declan might want to beat him bloody on the stones?
“Nay, Declan. Look at him.” Her ferocious silver gaze remained fixed on Declan as she waved a hand at Alistair. “He’s suffered his fair share, methinks. What say ye, Alistair? If I miss my mark, then I will unleash Declan and his men upon your person.”
Tosia hadn’t noticed until Elayne spoke that Torin and several other MacCollough men had appeared near Declan, a loose circle of vindication and plaid.
“Lane.” Declan’s voice was tinged with pleading desperation. He was a husband denied a right to dispense punishment, and Tosia leaned around James’s solid form as she would a tree trunk. He moved his arm to lay it over Tosia’s shoulders.
“Lane,” Declan repeated. “Ye canna deny me this.”
Lady Elayne’s hand rose from his arm to cup his jaw, the most tender gesture Tosia could imagine.
“Let him speak. Then we will determine his fate.” Her eyes shifted slightly to the Bruce who had the true final word on the matter, and he dipped his head almost imperceptibly.
Declan’s jaw clenched as he bit back his fury but deferred to his wife’s authority. He moved to her side, ready to step in if needed. Elayne lifted her face to Alistair, who stood apart from the other men with his head bowed. He looked so pathetic, Tosia’s heart went out to the man.
“Alistair,” Elayne’s voice, as strong as the woman herself, carried across the hall. If Alistair heard it, he didn’t react. “Why are ye here? Ye were banished. And ye are fortunate my husband stayed his hand, otherwise he’d have your head for your attempt on my life.”
