She dropped her chin into her hand and stared sourly at the tabletop, then said quietly. “I know.” She glanced up and looked off at Lyall again. “Baron Montrose believes our marriage isquestionable. Another reason to not be the daughter of a king,” she muttered. “It seems a handfast could be declared unbinding. Royal marriages need to be witnessed.”
“So you did wed him?” Elgin asked. “At Beauly, Ruari and one of the monks both claimed you were wed. I did not believe it. We thought he had forced you or was lying, but—“
She stood up suddenly. “The abbey!” She grabbed Alastair’s tunic and half pulled him up off the bench. “The prior has a document. I had forgotten! They witnessed our claim as man and wife, though it was not true then, but that does not matter,” she said with a wave of her hand. “What matters is there is witnessed proof.” She laughed. “Writ, signed, and sealed. Oh, who now shall win this battle!” She looked up at him, a plea in her desperate expression. “You have to go. You have to get the proof, Al. I need proof so they cannot dissolve the marriage. I beg you.”
The determined and anxious look in his sister’s eyes was one he knew well. She would have Robertson no matter what obstacles were in her way. She was not one to give up. “You are certain this is want you want?”
“I want no other than Lyall,” she said firmly, and her attention went across the hall to him again, still standing with Montrose. “I love him,” she said with quiet sincerity.
“We can fetch the proof,” Elgin said firmly and rose to quickly come around the table. “We must go there to check with the healer to see if---
Alastair kicked his brother in the shin before he spilled the truth.
El flinched but stopped talking. Al had already warned him not to tell Glenna they had found Fergus and taken him to the abbey, even though Glenna had told them when they reunited about losing him, about the arrow, and her heartache, and her anger at Lyall’s refusal to search for him.
Would she have felt better knowing they had found him, only to be told he had later died?
Alastair had spent his life protecting his sister, and his instinct to protect her had not waned. He would not take the chance of telling her, only to make her mourn the loss of Fergus all over again. Until he knew if the dog lived or died, he did not want to tell her they had found him, particularly when the monk doubted Fergus would make it.
“Swear you will help me,” she said.
He nodded. “We will ride to the abbey.”
“And you will bring back the proof to the baron’s keep?” Glenna said, more of an order than a question.
“Aye. We will bring you your proof.”
She threw her arms about him as she used to, covering his bearded cheeks with silly kisses. “Bless you, Alastair, my dear brother. I know you will not fail me. You never have.”
He kissed the top of her head and stepped back, feeling as if he were suddenly taller, and still her brother. “Come El, we must help prove our sister is wed to that horse’s ass.”
“Alastair!” she said, but she was laughing.
“The horse’s ass with whom you fought side by side?” Elgin said.
“Aye.”
“The horse’s ass who saved my life and that of our sister’s?” Elgin grinned.
“Aye. The horse’s ass who started this whole thing.” Alastair clapped his arm around El’s shoulders as they left together.
And Glenna’s quiet voice carried back to them. “Remember, that horse’s ass is your brother. He should fit in well.”
The innwhere they had put up for the night was too small for the contingent of Ramsey troops now escorting them back to Rossi. Lyall lay on a straw pallet on the floor of the taproom, surrounded by sleeping men. His stepfather was taking no chance of losing Glenna.
Whilst still at Kinnesswood, Ramsey had called in more of his men from other nearby positions. Soon after, they left Frasyr and his keep under guard by two of Ramsey’s most trusted knights and their retainer troops, amounting to enough men to hold off a siege on a land-locked castle, much less Kinnesswood with its lake-midst position. Even Argyll would not dare try to free his cousin.
The night felt long and Lyall folded his hands behind his head and stared up at the dark roof beams, listening to snoring men. He caught a movement from the corner of his eye and raised up slightly to look. The guards stood quietly posted at the door. One leaned against the jamb and the other shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but their eyes remained sharp.
He lay back down. There would be more men outside. His stepfather was thorough. Others stood at watch by the kitchens, and the stairs leading up to the rooms where Glenna was safely sequestered, and where his stepfather holed up for the night, likely dreaming of vile punishments for him. The rage between them and their words haunted his thoughts.
“Sweet Mother Mary and Joseph!” Ramsey had raged. “She is ruined! Even if we can find a way to annul this union, you have ruined her. What have you done? Where was your head, man? She is the daughter of a king!”
“And I am the son of a traitor.”
“I did not say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Lyall knew what he was.
