“This is the king’s daughter?” Mairi whispered in a rush of worried words. “My Lord in Heaven, Lyall, what have you done to her?”
A hundred answers came to his lips, none of them good. “Everything,” he said quietly.
But his sister must not have heard him because she pulled on his arm and said, “Come quickly.”
He followed her up the stairs and into her chamber as she called for her maid.
“Lay her down…gently. Aida! There you are. Send someone to fetch some watered wine and my herb bag is over there in the chest. The lemons, aye, bring some of the lemons my lord just received from Amalfi.” She stood in the center of the room, frowning. “Let me think…. “
Lyall straightened, staring blankly at Glenna’s pale skin, feeling uncomfortable and unable to think clearly. He heard his sisters words but he cared not what she was saying. He sank to his knees by the bed and touched Glenna’s face with his hand. Her skin was clammy and cool.
A water-filler laver cradled in her arm, Mairi edged him aside, but he took the damp towel from her hand and stepped in front of her. “I will do it.”
“You should leave.”
“Perhaps I should, but I will not. Glenna? Sweetheart?” He used the towel to wipe her brow and face.
“What happened? Lord, Lyall, what else have you done to her?”
He froze, aware his sister was angry and she blamed him. Her beliefs were well-founded. “She swooned. I merely had the foresight to be standing there to catch her.” He eyed Mairi’s sweaty hair, pulled from its braid and hanging around her flushed face, and the old woolen peasant gown with the patched sleeves and covered with a stained leather apron. “Perhaps the prospect of meeting you frightened her,”
Mairi swiped at her brow self-consciously. “I was making candles, Lyall Robertson! More like the prospect of being handed over so freely to the likes of Huchon de Hay. And do not be so thick-headed!” She lowered her voice and hissed, “How could you kidnap the king’s daughter?”
“She didn’t know she was kidnapped,” he said flippantly. “She thought I was taking her to her father. Ouch! The Devil’s blood! You have boney knuckles.”
“Knuckles? I should clobber you on the noggin with a flail, crack it open and hope some good sense might fly in. You gave her tode Hay?”
“And your old swain Colin Frasyr.”
“Do not, Lyall. I cared not a whit for Frasyr and you well know it. And he has a blood bond with his cousin so that he was involved is not a surprise. I doubt he would harm any woman, but de Hay? He is cruel. Why did you do it? Tell me why?”
“You are a woman. You cannot understand what was at stake.”
“What I cannot understand is stupidity. You imagine yourself part of some brotherhood misunderstood by mere women whose minds are frittered away on such things as velvet and pearls.”
Lyall did not respond.
“I cannot understand? That is what you men say when you do something we women know is harebrained. Do not tell me I cannot understand. My husband was the king's own diplomat. You think we did not speak of things? You think he did not value my thoughts? My opinions? You are a fool, brother. And I understand all too clearly that you have no excuse for what you have done.”
“Dunkeldon—“
“Curse Dunkeldon! Curse it to hell and back! Curse it to the hell it has taken you to, Lyall Robertson. We walked away all those years ago and still you cannot leave it behind you. You are my brother and I love you, but you have made a grave mistake, out of guilt you should not feel, for events out of your control, and the foolhardy idea that Dunkeldon is more than just a burnt old ruin--one that has ruined you! It has.” She looked away from his and shook her head in disgust and frustration.
When she looked up again, she placed a hand on his arm. “Do you not see? This is not a mere sport, some lark. ‘Tis not a mistaken marriage, the lure of bonding yourself to the man who held our father's lands or a marriage to some poor lass far from willing. Dunkeldon has driven you too far this time. It has drivenyou toward treason. You gave the king’s daughter to his enemies. You could lose your knighthood. Your name could be listed, Lyall. You could be imprisoned, or hanged.” There were tears in her voice when she said, “Did you learn nothing from what happened to our father?”
“How could I forget? I bear his name…you do not. You married Robert. Mother wed Ramsey. I--” he tapped his chest angrily, “I alone carry his name, and his shame.”
“Mama! Mama!” The boys came running in.
“You lads be quiet. What are you doing here? Oh, where is their nurse?” Mairi ran toward the chamber door and called to their maid.
The nephews spotted him and shouted his name louder than Norman tourney caller, and suddenly he had boys all over him.
“Mama? Is that the great lady?”The child’s voice came from far away.
Where am I?Glenna’s head was foggy.
“Aye, Duncan.” The woman who answered did so kindly, her tone soft and lilting.
