Page 70 of Highland Storm

There was not a man present who did not comprehend the war of wills. After a long stretch of silence, his brother sighed. “Very well,” he agreed, aware of the dance of words. “I will recognize you as the rightful sovereign over Scotia.”

Before they could come to an agreement, Keane spoke up again. “All I must ask is to see my wife to Dunràth myself.”

“Nay.” The king said, shaking his head. “There isna time. If you would serve me, you will ride out from the vale at my side.”

Keane clenched his fist. “Nay! I willna allow my wife to traipse into the north lands unescorted, without protection.” Foremost in his mind was to keep her safe from the likes of William fitz Duncan. If the man should lay a hand on his wife now that they were wed, he’d gut him from belly to throat.

“We have wasted too much time already,” the king lamented.

Keane was treading on dangerous ground and yet he could not accept this decree. “You have wasted your time, Your Grace. I have come to mourn my kin, and in truth, ye werena asked to join us in the vale.”

David mac Mhaoil Chaluim’s face turned red, and then purple. Whatever charity Keane had witnessed in the man before now was lost in the bile of his expression. They were at odds here, and so were their interests. Lianae was not like Lael. She was not a warrior. She was a gentlewoman to her soul, prickly though she might be. What good was a castle or land if he lost his wife?

“I will take her,” Lael announced.

“You?” the single word exclaimed in unison, was an echo from every man present: Jaime, the king, Aidan and Keane as well.

“Aye, me!” Insulted now, Lael stood at her full height, unbowed by the air of disapproval. “There is not a dún Scoti lass who canna best the lot o’ your men.” She directed this declaration to the king. “I will take Lianae, along with Cailin and Sorcha. Give me but one of your men—not even your best—and I will make do. Then my brother may ride south in good conscience when you leave.”

The king remained silent, unmoved.

Lael persisted. “Would you deny him—your servant—the peace of mind to serve ye unburdened, Your Grace? Or would you have him preoccupied o’er his pregnant wife whilst he must guard your back?”

More silence followed Lael’s outburst.

Over the hillside, there was much chatter as men rose to break their fast, but here around the ancient stone Clach Tolargg, not a man save one dared to speak and deny her.

“Lael,” Jaime said, meaning to reason with her.

His sister turned to give her husband a quelling look. “Dinna think to argue against me, Jaime. I am your beloved wife, but long before I was your wife, I was a dún Scoti maid. I am more than capable and betimes more so than you!”

It was a challenge no man in his right mind would embrace.

Angrily, Lael shoved her cloak behind her shoulders and marched away. It was only once she was gone that there was a titter of nervous laughter amidst the men, and the king broke the silence, confessing as he scratched his head, “That woman scares the piss out o’ me. You’ve some bollocks, Jaime,” he announced, to which, every man present barked with anxious laughter.

But Keane was not appeased. “Will Lianae be safe at Dunràth if fitz Duncan will not join the campaign?”

The king eyed Keane with a gleam in his eye. “I am not witless enough to leave any stronghold of import without men enough to guard her.” And by her, Keane had little doubt he did not mean Lianae. “I will send a writ along with your lady to ensure my men will heed her command. The better question then might be… is Dunràth safe with your lady wife in command, Keane dún Scoti?”

Despite the past few days, Keane was unable to defend or impugn Lianae—not with all that had transpired. But so long as she was safe, that was his greatest concern.

“Would you wed my brother to a woman who would betray kith and king in the same breath?” Aidan challenged.

The king answered after but a moment of deliberation. “Nay,” he said.

“So that’s that,” Jaime agreed. “Lael will take Lianae north, and if it please you, Your Grace, I will send Luc along with them. The man is loyal to a fault.”

“So be it,” the king said. “Enjoy yourselves whilst ye can. We ride for Northumbria two days hence.”

Chapter

Twenty-Four

It was the first of January, and the Mother of Winter had not yet come to stay. Unseasonably warm for the ides of winter, it was easy to take to the bed, in particular for those who would not be alone.

Later that same evening, Jaime and Lael lay down their arms… and their gowns and shoes and trews and gambesons, and left them all upon the floor.

Outside, on the hill, the din continued—raised drunken voices, ribald jests and laughter—but in the room the lovers shared, there were only heartfelt whispers.