Seventeen
“Kneel,” the Steward commanded as he moved off the dais in the great hall to come stand before Alex.
Alex debated what to do. The Steward obviously wanted a show of obedience to prove trustworthiness, yet he suspected the man would not trust or respect any laird who would so easily bend to the commands of another, even one he professed to want to serve. So Alex stood unmoving.
Thomas, who was beside Alex, drew his sword and brought the point to Alex’s throat. “On yer knees, MacLean.”
Alex’s fingers twitched for his sword, which had been taken from him by the Steward’s guards before they’d allowed him to enter the great hall.
“I dunnae kneel before any man,” Alex bit out, eyeing first Thomas and then the Steward.
The Steward stood so close to Alex that he could smell the stench of sweat and mead on the man. The king’s nephew shoved his red hair off his forehead and narrowed his sharp, blue eyes upon Alex. “Ye have come here to pledge yer fealty to me, but ye will nae kneel?”
“Ye are nae my king yet, Robert,” Alex replied, choosing to use the man’s given name as a purposeful show that he considered them matched in status. “The moment ye are declared so, I will kneel before ye. But I come to ye now as an equal. Both of us, all of us—” he motioned to Marsaili’s father, the Campbell laird, who was sitting at the dais, and then to Thomas, the only other person in the room “—are equals in our discontent of David.”
“Ye mean King David,” the Campbell snarled.
“Nay,” Alex replied. “I dunnae consider him my king any longer. He gives power to commoners and takes it and land from us nobles, whose clans have long supported him. He dunnae have respect for me, and he forced a marriage on me that I did nae want.” The lies made his gut twist, but they were necessary.
“Why would ye nae wish to wed Lena MacLeod?” the Steward asked.
“Lena Campbell,” the Campbell laird bellowed.
Alex had to clench his teeth not to contradict the devil.
“She belonged to the Campbell clan.” The Campbell slammed his fist against the table.
Belonged? Alex’s head throbbed with rage. Lena was not a possession but a woman. He wanted to pummel the Campbell.
“The king forced ye to marry her simply to thwart me,” the Campbell continued. “I ken it, in spite of what lies he tried to shove down my throat.” The Campbell jerked to his feet. “She was my family’s to have and use as we saw fit, to hurt and degrade in order to strike back at Iain MacLeod for all the blows he and his brothers have struck upon us.”
Alex was a breath away from damning the mission, grasping the blade of the sword still pointed at his throat, and using it to kill the Campbell, but the Steward said, “Enough. All this complaining dunnae change the fact that she now belongs to the MacLean clan. So tell me,” the Steward demanded as he stared at Alex. “Why would ye nae wish to be married to such a beguiling creature?”
Before Alex could answer, Marsaili was ushered into the room, looking as uneasy and fearful as a rabbit being hunted. She hovered at the door, sweeping her gaze over Alex, Thomas, the Steward, and finally, her father. “Da,” she said and offered an awkward curtsy to him and then the rest of them.
The Campbell gave his daughter a dispassionate look. “Still nae a bonny lass, I see.”
Marsaili’s cheeks reddened, and pity gripped Alex. He’d been angry with Marsaili when he’d learned she was the traitor, but when he’d read of her son and how her father was hiding the child from her, he had understood what she’d done. He did not condone it, but he understood it. Watching her shift from foot to foot and bite nervously on her lip, he was glad that she did not know the truth about him and the mission King David had tasked him with. Marsaili would have given the truth away, not out of spite but out of fear. And while he may now be in possession of one of the traitors’ names—Laird Fraser—he still needed the other.
“Ye are just in time to hear why the MacLean laird did nae care to marry yer half sister,” the Campbell said. “Surprising, is it nae, given her beauty? That dunnae bode well for ye, Marsaili, given yer lack of it. If one as bonny as Lena kinnae sway a man, what hope do ye have?”
“Nae verra much, Da,” she answered in a meek voice that was so unlike the woman Alex had glimpsed at Dunvegan. Gone was any boldness and zest for life in the face of her father.
“So, MacLean?” the Steward pressed.
Alex racked his mind for what to say that would seem believable. Several things came to him, but it made him ache to even think of uttering such insults about Lena. Still, he had to. He could feel Marsaili staring at him, and he could imagine that the woman would want to gouge his eyes out after he spoke. “It was well kenned that she feared men, which concerned me in regard to how she would be in the joining.”
“And how was she?” the Campbell demanded, a leer on his face.
Alex arched his eyebrows. “As I expected. Fearful. Cold. Nae the sort of lass to rouse a man to passion.”
Marsaili gasped and her face mottled red, but she held her tongue.
“Findlay said much the same,” the Campbell chortled. “Ye need to beat her. It certainly made the bedchamber more entertaining for Findlay.”
From the corner of his vision, Alex saw Marsaili glaring at him and trembling with rage.
“I imagine I could bring some warmth out of yer wife,” Thomas said, lowering the blade from Alex’s neck. Thomas’s gaze slid to Marsaili for a moment before returning to Alex. “I’ve a special way with lasses. Though, I have heard ye do, as well, MacLean.”
Alex flinched, his gut telling him Thomas was alluding to the darker side of passion he used to crave and had fulfilled with the lasses he’d been with before Lena. “As I made clear earlier, Lena is my possession now, and I dunnae share what is mine.”
“So yer break with David occurred over him forcing ye to marry Lena MacLean?” the Steward asked.
“Aye,” Alex responded. “Then he took away one of my castles as punishment for what he called my ‘insolent behavior.’ I’ll nae serve a king who forgets the lairds who put him on his throne and kept him there. I wish for a king who looks to the lairds to rule by his side, nae under his boot.”
“Well said, MacLean. And I wish to believe ye. Truly, I do. But…”
“Ye need proof of my fealty,” Alex said. He’d expected this, and he hoped Marsaili’s word would be proof enough, because if it wasn’t, he was certain whatever the Steward required him to do would be against everything he believed in.
“Aye. I do require additional proof.” The Steward cut his gaze from Alex to Marsaili. “Tell me, lass. Is the account that the MacLean gave us correct?”
“Aye,” Marsaili immediately replied. “I witnessed his argument with the king, and the MacLean did, indeed, storm away, and I overheard him tell his man Donald that the king had lost his fealty.”
Alex stared at Marsaili, surprised at her words. He’d never told Donald that, so the lass was lying. He suspected she fabricated the truth to ensure he was accepted so her father would tell her the location of her child.
“Thank ye for the information, lass,” the Steward said.
Marsaili looked to her father, a beseeching expression on her face that stabbed at Alex’s heart. “Da?”
The Campbell waved a dismissive hand at her. “Wait outside in the passage for me. I’ll speak with ye when I’m finished here.”
Anger flashed in Marsaili’s eyes so briefly that Alex would have thought he imagined it if it weren’t for her flaring nostrils, even as she smiled meekly. She nodded and started from the room, serving him a chilly look as she went. He was pleased to see her show of support for Lena, even though it meant she believed the worst of him.
Once the door closed behind her, the Steward said, “Ye must ken the position I’m in.”
Dread filled Alex’s chest. The Steward had decided to demand a show of fealty.
“Aye,” Alex said, striving to make his tone nonchalant. “How do ye wish me to prove myself?”
“It so happens,” Thomas said, surprising Alex by speaking, “that we have received word of an ambush planned on one of our raiding parties today. And the enemy party is being led by none other than the renowned Lachlan MacLeod.”
Alex’s gut clenched at the ill timing of the ambush by Lachlan’s men. “What do ye wish me to do?”
“Kill Lachlan,” the Campbell announced from the dais.
Knots of tension formed in Alex’s shoulders and neck. He would never do such a thing, but he had to find a way to convince the Steward he was faithful. His mind raced as he searched for an acceptable solution, but before he found an answer, the Steward spoke.
“Nay,” he said. “Dunnae kill Lachlan MacLeod. Bring him to me, though, and I will spare his life when he thinks he is near death. That way, when I am king, I will have the man’s undying fealty. One thing I ken about the MacLeod brothers is that they are tight as a well-woven blanket. If I have one brother’s fealty, I will have them all. I would be near unstoppable with the MacLeods behind me.”
“I want him dead!” the Campbell roared.
The Steward gave the man a black look. “Dunnae be shortsighted. We need to gather as many strong clans behind us as we can. When I am on the throne, I will give ye more power than the MacLeods, and then ye may seek yer revenge.”
“Is that a vow?” the Campbell demanded.
“Aye,” the Steward said. “It is. Sworn here this day and witnessed by Thomas and the MacLean.”
“I would go with the MacLean to ensure he dunnae try any deception with Lachlan,” the Campbell said, glaring at Alex.
“By all means, away with ye, then.” The Steward turned his gaze first on Thomas and then on Alex. Something in the depths of the man’s eyes set off warning bells in Alex’s mind. “Thomas will keep watch over yer wife while ye are away, so dunnae concern yerself with her safety.”
A troubling image of Thomas with Lena entered Alex’s head. He swallowed with difficulty but found his voice. “That will nae be necessary. I’ll leave my men Broch and Donald to watch her.” He would instruct Donald to take her from here the moment he could get the two of them away unnoticed.
“I’ll be pleased to aid them,” Thomas said, giving Alex a smug look.
Alex would have happily choked Thomas in that moment. “Thomas, it would serve ye nae to forget what I told ye,” he said, hearing the balefulness of his tone. “Lena is my property. If ye so much as touch her, the devil himself will nae stop me from killing ye.”
Thomas flashed a feral smile. “Fashed she’ll prefer me? That I’ll make her warm when ye could nae?”
Alex shot his fist out and connected it squarely with Thomas’s face. The crunch of bone rang in his ears as he drew back and stared at the man he’d once called a friend. His guilt ate at him that Thomas had become what he now was. Blood poured out of Thomas’s nose as he cupped his face. The man wiped his hands across his mouth, hissing as he did so and leaving a trail of red smeared across his cheek. “Ye’ll suffer for that when ye return.”
“I look forward to it,” Alex snarled, then focused on the Steward. “Might I have one moment before departing to inform Lena that I’ll be away?” And to ensure Donald knew to flee with her.
“Dunnae fash yerself,” the Steward said. “I’ll have Euphemia tell yer wife at supper, if ye have nae returned by then.”
Dread washed over Alex at the mention of Euphemia’s name. A year after Gillis had died, he’d encountered Euphemia at a tournament. They had spoken, and he’d thought nothing of it, but that night, she’d come to his tent and confessed that Gillis used to beat her and that she knew Gillis had tortured him, too. She had wanted comfort she’d claimed could only be found in Alex’s arms. He’d been sixteen summers, and she was the first woman he’d ever joined with. He had discovered that she liked being dominated, and she’d encouraged him to do so. He’d been confused, lost, and angry, and he had allowed her to lead him down a dark path. When he’d ended their affair, she had been livid and had written countless letters threatening to kill herself if he did not continue seeing her. He’d ignored them, certain in his heart that she loved herself too much to harm herself. And he’d been right.
Then the realization struck. God’s teeth! Euphemia is here!
He prayed to God she did not tell Lena of his time with her. Lena would think him disgusting. He thought it of himself.
“Gather the men ye wish to take, and off with ye and the Campbell. Hopefully, ye will return in time to parade our captive at supper.”
Alex nodded, even as his stomach roiled with disgust.