Page 68 of The Refuge

That brought a smile to Catrìona’s face. “Aye, mayhap I am.”

The food that night was an amazing array of fish, game and roast boar. The kitchen must have been preparing the various dishes since the messenger had come with news of the king’s imminent return. Despite the men having eaten when they returned, they devoured the food on their trenchers and consumed many goblets of wine.

Catrìona sipped her wine, snatching glimpses of the golden-haired scribe at the other table. His words about her now being free to wed came back to her, causing her to worry. She hoped the king had no plans for her. What would she do if he did?

When Rhodri’s entertainment concluded and all the stories had been shared, Margaret slowly rose and, begging leave from the king, stepped down from the dais. Her searching gaze fell upon her ladies and Catrìona rose with the others, relieved to leave the boisterous noise of the male celebration behind her.

* * *

Steinar checked Artair’s saddle and the pack he had slung over the horse’s back, eager to be on the road. He had never been very far east of Dunfermline and certainly not as far as St. Andrews, but now that Scotland was his acknowledged home, he was glad for the chance to see more of it. And he was glad to have days with Catrìona away from court even if the king’s captain would be accompanying them.

It took some time for the party to be ready. Malcolm himself insisted on inspecting the cart his queen was to ride in, scolding a servant for insufficient pillows. Once that situation was remedied and the provisions and chests secured, the king settled Margaret into the cart and Colbán assisted Audra to sit beside her.

Steinar was unsurprised to see a servant leading Catrìona’s horse from the stable. While Colbán was issuing orders to the other guards, Steinar helped Catrìona to mount her horse next to the queen’s cart.

Checking the stirrup, he glanced around but did not see the ever-present Angus. “Your guard does not go with us?”

“Nay,” she said settling herself in the saddle, “the king’s captain persuaded him that I would be well protected by the guards attending the queen.”

“Why do you not ride with the queen and her other lady?” he asked, knowing the answer but hoping he could tease her into some spirited reply.

“I would not be so gently seated.” Shooting a glance at the queen whose maidservant was assisting her efforts to get comfortable, Catrìona said, “I can see more from my horse and enjoy the diversions the road has to offer.”

“Well, then, you can ride beside me as I’m to lead the party while the king’s captain and most of the guard will ride on either side of the queen.”

“If I must,” she said, as if greatly affronted. Her smile told him she was not.

The queen gave Catrìona an odd look but then Margaret was unused to the back and forth exchanges he enjoyed with her lady.

Today, the weather was warm and Catrìona had chosen to wear a simple linen gown, her cloak slung over the back of her saddle. Her hair was formed into one long plait that hung down her back like a crimson rope, the end of it dangling tantalizingly below the edge of her saddle.

“And what of your falcon?” he asked. “Did you leave the bird behind?”

She frowned, her disappointment evident. “Alas, I must. I just looked in on Kessog this morning. He is never too happy in the middle of a molt but today he was quite disgruntled. His feathers were all askew and he bristled on his perch as I left. ’Twas as if he knew I was going somewhere without him and was chiding me for not taking him despite his untidy appearance.”

Steinar chuckled but he well understood the falcon’s discomfort. He, too, would bristle should he be forced to wave her goodbye as she hied off to some distant place without him. Nay, he would not think of the day that might come to pass. For now it was enough they rode together. He would relish his moments with her and wait to see if she welcomed the attentions of the king’s captain before he lost all hope.

Bowing his head to the queen, he bid Catrìona to follow as he kneed his horse toward the front of the score of riders. Soon, they left the tower behind and took the path leading northeast from Dunfermline.

Above him, the sky was a cloudless blue. The path took them through green meadows edged with wood sorrel and butter-colored flowers. On either side of the meadow tall pines rose high above them. In the distance, he could see low hills. This part of Fife was proving to be most pleasing to the eye, especially when he rode beside so comely a woman.

“Where will we lodge tonight?” she asked, her eyes sweeping over the grass-covered hills stretching before them bounded by deep woods.

“Would you be disappointed if I said in an open field?”

She laughed. “Would you be surprised if I said, ‘Nay’?”

He chuckled. “My lady, after your jaunt in the woods and dip in the burn, nothing you do would surprise me.” She was about to protest, he was certain, so he added, “Lest you worry, the king maintains a manor house a few miles southeast of Loch Leven in Ballingry. From the sketch I looked at of where we are headed, ’twill bring us about a third of the way into our journey.”

“I have not had such a long ride since coming to Dunfermline,” she said wistfully. “I will enjoy it.”

“Then you have no complaints?”

“Quite the opposite, sir. I am pleased beyond measure to be outside, free of the tower’s small chambers and, dare I add, free of my needlework.”

He smiled. “You do not love your stitching as the other ladies do?”

“Rarely. But recently I have found a new interest in embroidery, a design of my own.”