“From what I have heard of the legend, the stone cannot herald the laird’s passing until he has been duly accepted as Master of Dunlaidir,” a deep voice said behind Caterine, and her heart tilted.
Sir Marmaduke drew up beside her, something raw-edged and indefinable simmering beneath his calm. “The tears we see are celebratory tears for the valor James has shown of late.” He touched his hand to her shoulder, glanced down at her. “Is that not so?”
Caterine nodded, too unsettled by his proximity to speak.
Eoghann suffered no such difficulty. A broad smile spreading across his weather-lined face, he snatched an empty drinking mug off the table, filled it with frothy heather ale, then thrust the brimming cup into James’ hand.
“Lighten your heart, my lord,” the crusty seneschal said, raising his voice so all heard. “The stone is saluting you.”
“Come, then, and let me commend you as well,” Sir Marmaduke said to James. Stepping away from Caterine, he slid out his sword.
“Oh!” Rhona’s hands flew to her cheeks. “He’s going to knight you.” Joy lit her pretty face and was quickly taken up by the onlookers thronging the dais. “Oh, my, oh, my.”
Only Caterine forced her smile, for her skin prickled with an eerie foreboding of the announcement her husband would next make. Clasping cold hands before her, she watched him place a hand on James’ shoulder.
“Kneel, my friend,” Sir Marmaduke’s deep voice commanded. “Kneel, and accept the stroke of honor.”
Hot color flooded James’ face, but he dropped to his knees and bowed his head. A solemn quiet descended over the hall as Sir Marmaduke raised his silver-gleaming blade.
“Be valiant, James of Dunlaidir. Honor your fellow knights. Love God and keep your soul stainless at all times.” The words spoken, Sir Marmaduke struck the flat of his steel first to one of James’ shoulders, then other.
“I, Sir Marmaduke Strongbow of Balkenzie, dub thee knight,” he finished the brief adubbement. “Now rise, Sir James, and be ever proud.”
“I shall, good sir, and I thank you,” James gave the proper response, and stood.
Marmaduke sheathed his blade. “Be worthy and always stand tall,” he advised, giving James a comradely thwack on the arm. “I know you shall.”
“Hail Sir James!” a shout rose from the crowd. Similar cries and comment issued from others, respectful if not exuberant.
Leo seemed most pleased of all, dashing away from Caterine to streak circles about the hall, his excited barks leaving no doubt that he, at least, believed something extraordinary had happened.
“We must speak, my lady,” Caterine’s champion said the instant he returned to her side. The summons she’s expected, cushioned by a gallant offering of his mailed arm.
Their gazes met and held for a long moment before she slipped her hand through his proffered arm. “You wish to inform me you are leaving?”
He nodded, as she’d known he would, and led her to a fairly quiet corner of the hall. “It is time. I wish to celebrate Yule at my own hearthside.” He placed his hands on her shoulders as he so often did, but a new chill coated his words and his expression, though calm, held no warmth. “I do not care to winter her, my lady.”
Caterine took a deep breath. “The winter is already upon us and will worsen by the day.”
“More the reason to depart with all haste,” he said, weighing his words. “The road home may be fraught with some hazard, but my men are used to harsh weather, as am I.”
“I am sure.” His wife glanced back to the dais end of the hall where James engaged Lachlan and a few of the younger Keith guards in animated conversation. He’d slung an arm around Rhona’s waist, clearly claiming her.
“They will be happy,” Marmaduke said, watching them, taking some comfort in the young lord’s newfound pride and grace. But a trace of concern marred his own lady’s brow, and he smoothed it away with the side of his thumb.
“The older garrison men will flock to him, too,” he assured her. “Especially after my men and I are gone.”
“And Rhona will make him a fine and able wife.” The thickness in her voice alarmed him, for he knew it had little to do with her companion and James.
“A fine and able consort is the wish of all men.” He smoothed a tendril of hair back from her face. “A rare and precious bliss.”
“Please, say no more.” She paled, and the gravity of her tone squashed what hope still flickered inside him.
“You are my bliss,” he said, damning his pride. “Will you deny the pleasure we shared this past night?”
“Nae, I will not.” She lifted her chin. “It was beautiful beyond all my expectations.”
His hope surging anew, Marmaduke cleared his throat. “Lady, are you man enough to stomach a bit of…roughness on the journey?”
