Page 165 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“And ye have it wrong, St. Claire.” Roberts’ tone turned friendly. “Lochland will welcome you as the new baron. He understands you are Edward’s man.”

Talbot suspected it was Roberts who hoped to ingratiate himself into Talbot’s—and Edward’s—good graces. Lochland wouldn’t be so eager to trade a willing Scottish vassal for an English knight.

“Leave,” Talbot said.

Roberts urged his palfrey so close that Talbot’s horse snorted and sidestepped. Talbot tightened the reins to still the animal.

“Lochland willna’ interfere.” Roberts locked gazes with him. “Neither will you.”

Talbot lifted a hand over his head and made a ‘come forward’ motion with two fingers. He didn’t have to look back to know that a hundred of his men separated from the shadows of the trees.

Roberts’ eyes narrowed. Then he reached for his sword.

Talbot had his sword out and had slapped the flat of the blade across Roberts’ shoulder before the Highlander’s sword left its sheath. He tumbled from his horse. His two men drew their swords in unison with Talbot’s men.

Talbot leapt from his horse and pointed his sword at Roberts’ face. “Hold,” Talbot ordered the men. Then to Roberts, “You dare draw a weapon under a white flag?”

The man’s face mottled with rage. “Are ye daft, man? Think what you have to gain by joining forces with me.”

“What have you to gain?” Talbot demanded.

“Longford Castle.”

That was probably the most honest thing the man had said all night.

“Then take it when Seward is not there.” Talbot sheathed his sword and stepped into his saddle. “You have until I return to my army to leave before I attack.” Talbot whirled his horse toward the trees.

Roberts lingered a few minutes before leading his men past Talbot and his warriors. It was the Highlander’s way of saving face and letting Talbot know he wasn’t cowed. But leave he did. Talbot waited until the last of the men filed past before taking Iain and leading a dozen of his men and all of Seward’s men to the gates of Longford Castle under his and Seward’s banners.

“Call up to your lord,” Talbot instructed Iain.

“Kinsley,” he called up to the battlements, “’tis I, Iain. St. Claire is with me. He is a friend.”

A moment later, the gate opened and Talbot led the men inside. They were met by half a dozen men, Seward, and a young noble Talbot assumed was Melrose. Talbot swung his leg over his horse’s rump and stepped to the ground.

“What are ye doing here, St. Claire?” Seward demanded.

The baron was a large man, almost as large as Talbot, still well-muscled and more vigorous than many men half his sixty-two years. Talbot liked the man, and respected his desire to marry his granddaughter to a Scotsman. Seward understood King Edward’s power grab. None of that changed the fact that the old baron had miscalculated in defying him.

“You are damned lucky I came,” Talbot said. “Especially given that you went behind my back to try and marry my wife to this pup.”

Surprise flashed in the old man’s eyes. The younger man reached for his sword.

Kinsley’s head snapped in the boy’s direction. “Keep your sword in its sheath, Jacobus.” He then said to Talbot, “Where is Rhoslyn?”

“Where she belongs, at Castle Glenbarr.”

“Ye devil. You have no right to take her.”

“Take her? A man does not take his wife. I made sure she was delivered safely to her home. I did not take you for a fool, Seward. What did you hope to accomplish?”

“What do ye think?”

Talbot nodded. “She is my wife. Nothing will change that.”

Seward studied him. “You could have left me to fight my own battle. Why interfere?”

“Because my wife would hate me if I did not help you.”