Page 381 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Iain leaned over and whispered, “I must go, love, but I will come to you later.”

She blinked, then her eyes widened. Iain smiled confirmation and, with a kiss meant to linger until that later meeting, he left her to deal with the wellwishers.

Embossed in gold wax, the crest of Edwin Hockley, Earl of Lansbury, remained unbroken on the missive Iain held ten minutes later. He shifted his attention from the document and looked over the walls at the English soldiers gathered below. A white flag whipped in the wind, high above their ranks.

“Father Brennan was right,” Iain told Thomas. “There are but fifty of them. No threat if they mean mischief.”

“Aye,” Thomas agreed. “Which probably means their mischief comes in a more sinister manner.”

Iain shot him an accusing look. “You have a bad habit of pointing out the obvious. Have you been told that before?”

Thomas appeared thoughtful. “Nay. I feel certain this is the first I have heard of it.”

“Well, you do.” Iain broke the seal on the parchment and read the contents.

Iain MacPherson

By order of King Henry VII you are commanded to release Victoria Hockley, Countess of Lansbury, to her brother-in-law, Edwin Hockley, Earl of Lansbury.

Signed by King Henry VII, sovereign ruler of Great Britain, this twenty-ninth day of August, year of our Lord fifteen hundred and eight.

“Short and to the point,” Iain murmured. He handed the note to Thomas.

Thomas read it, then said, “A man of decisive action.”

Iain accepted the document back from him, glanced down at it, and sighed. “Let the games begin.”

* * *

All merry-makers were cleared from the hall and Iain sat at the table, half a dozen warriors at the wall nearest him when the door opened and Edwin Hockley was escorted into the great hall. Iain recognized the Italian rapier strapped to Hockley’s thigh. Though not as elaborate a sword as many in the noble caste wore, the delicately engraved, blackened hilt spoke of a simple elegance that said functionality was more important than ostentatious trappings. Thomas had been right. Edwin Hockley was a man of action.

Hockley halted in front of him, and Iain said, “What business has the king ordering my wife from her home?”

Surprise flickered in the earl’s eyes. “Wife?”

“Wife.”

“I was not aware my sister-in-law had intentions of remarrying.”

“Intentions?” Iain repeated. “She is married.”

“I was not aware she was married,” Edwin said, adding, “Neither was her king aware she was married.”

“You will inform him.”

“You understand if I feel compelled to see the wedding certificate.”

Iain barked a laugh. “You understand if I do not feel compelled to show you anything.”

“Where is she that I may offer my felicitations? As a member of her family, I would see her well off.” “I am her family now,” Iain countered.

“You would send me home without seeing her?”

“Being able to return home is privilege enough.”

“We have come in peace,” the earl answered so skillfully, Iain knew the answer was practiced.

“So the English have said for centuries,” he replied. “We have learned to mistrust first and ask questions later.”