Several in the hall who didn’t know the rumored history of Elayne MacCollough sucked in harsh breaths, Tosia’s included. Their thoughts had to mirror Tosia’s — how did Elayne not let Declan cleave the man’s head from his body?
Alistair was silent but raised his head and rushed toward her in a swift move that caused Declan and Torin to leap violently toward him. Even James stiffened against Tosia, his hand shifting back to his sword, preparing to leap into the fray.
Instead of attacking her, Alistair slid to his knees into Elayne’s skirts, hugging her legs like a desperate child awaiting consolation.
Declan and Torin froze where they stood, as did Elayne. She held her arms aloft at her sides, her shock at Alistair’s movements emanating from her body.
“I’m sorry, cousin,” he wept —wept! — into Elayne’s skirts. “I’m so verra, verra sorry. I was tainted, a man possessed. I dinna ken what I was doing and have no excuse for it. All I can do is apologize. And I do, with all of my soul, before these men and God Himself. I apologize for what I did to ye in my heated, misguided attempts. If ye canna forgive me, I understand. If ye want your man to have my head, then I will no’ fight. So be it.”
Tosia’s hand flew to her mouth. Whatever the man had done to Elayne, he sounded as if he surely deserved this punishment, and now Elayne was the arbiter of his very life. Would she end it as she might step on a bug? Did Elayne harbor so much hatred for her cousin’s actions that she’d forfeit his life?
For several heartbeats, Elayne didn’t move, her hands upraised like an angel’s wings. Her silvery eyes stared at the tawny head bent into her skirts. Then her fingers twitched, as if the decision she made needed time to flow through the blood in her body and make it move her dictates. One pale, long-fingered hand floated down inch by inch and came to rest on Alistair’s head. She clenched her hand in his hair, threading her fingers through the unruly amber locks.
Alistair clenched as well, gripping her skirts forcibly in apologetic sobs. Elayne’s other hand followed the first, and she hugged his head into her legs. Her chin dropped to her heaving chest. Waves of her dark, burnished hair fell to cover her face, which Tosia was certain was covered in tears.
Declan reached his hand to Elayne’s back, a reassuring gesture meant to provide more comfort as she gave absolution to the most undeserving soul.
“Elayne?” His low voice was meant for her ears but echoed in the quiet of the hall.
She used her sleeve to wipe her hidden face before lifting it to him, then removed her other hand from Alistair’s head. “He can stay with the MacDonalds.”
Then Lady Elayne tugged her skirts from her prostate cousin and, with Declan and Torin, returned to Caitrin’s side.Thatpoor woman was beyond the pale, holding her stomach as if she would be sick over the matter. Cut from a different cloth than her sister-by-law, Caitrin was.
As for Tosia, she again marveled at the Lady Elayne — her stoic nature belied a soft and forgiving woman. Would Tosia have been able to forgive someone for so grave a sin? She didn’t know.
Chapter Twenty-Six: The Future of Scotland
James had requesteda conference with Robert, and as he entered the keep, heading for the king’ study, Shabib appeared from the entryway to the stairs.
“Ah, Shabib, just the man I was searching for. I’m about to have counsel with the king. ‘Tis time for us to set up our own place at Threave, as promised by the king when I wed Tosia. I want to do that before we leave for the Highlands so she might be settled. Come with me so we might learn when we can to begin our transition to that keep.”
Shabib’s stoic face hid in the royal blue of his hood. Instead of an eager reception and the prospect of a home, Shabib’s hesitancy raised the hairs on the back of James’s neck.
The reason Shabib had sought him out was not a good one.
“I do not believe I’ll be leaving with you, my brother.” Shabib’s deep voice emanated with an air of sadness.
