“It’s what I can do for you.” Lord Malcolm laughed at the shocked look on Cinge’s face.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I know you lost Berwick Castle along with a sizable income,” Malcolm said each word with the certainty of a man who was determined to get what he wanted. “I’m here to offer you a deal.”
“Go on.”
With a casual nod, Malcolm said, “I want your daughter.”
Cinge tried to hide his surprise at Malcolm's request. Cinge blinked several times before he said, “My daughter has been a thorn in my side for years. Why would you want her?”
Malcolm laughed. “Well for one, I hear she has grown into a beautiful woman. I’ve also been told that she can lead me to the Holy Grail.”
“The Holy Grail has been lost for years, man. There have been many quests for the Grail . . . all ending in death.”
“Death, maybe.” Malcolm shrugged. “Yet none have found the cup. Once it’s in my possession then I can make you a very wealthy man.”
Cinge nodded. “I like what I’m hearing but Siena is with Laird Scott, so I will have to get her back on English soil.”
Malcolm leaned forward and placed his glass on the desk. He refilled his glass, then asked, “Do you have the men to take her from the laird?”
“Hell no!” Cinge shrugged matter-of-factly and then thought better, not wanting to show his weakness. “Well, not on his ground, but I do have something the man wants more than anything. I think Laird Scott will hand over my daughter without lifting a sword.”
Malcolm astonishment was obvious, but he recovered and asked, “Then we have a bargain?”
Cinge stood and raised his glass in salute to Lord Malcolm. “We have a deal. I’ll send a message right away.”
* * *
One spring morning,Roderick told Siena he was going on a raid with two of his brothers. She bade him to be careful and vowed to herself that she was going to find Michael while her husband was gone. As she watched Roderick ride away, she had the strangest feeling that she’d never see him again. She shook her head to get rid of the silly feeling. He wouldn’t be gone that long. He had said so himself. She would make her husband happy again as soon as she discovered where Michael was located.
Two days later, Siena returned to the keep from her morning walk, she found a messenger standing in the entryway with the steward standing in front of him with his arms crossed. Martin, Roderick’s steward, more or less ran the household and had been very nice to Siena since she’d arrived. She assumed the men were having a discussion, so she made her way down the hall leading to the stairs that led to the great hall, knowing she wasn’t needed.
Martin turned and said, “Milady, the mon says he has a message for Laird Scott.”
Siena paused and then went back to stand next to Martin. “I’m Laird Scott’s wife. I’ll take it.” Siena held out her hand.
“Ye can read, milady?” Martin asked, a surprised look on his face as most women and men he knew couldn’t read and he most certainly couldn’t.
“Aye, I can.”
The messenger, who she noticed was dressed in her father’s colors, handed her the small note. She immediately recognized her father’s seal; however, she didn’t bother to comment or show any outer expression as a chill ran up her back. She knew that this couldn’t be good.
“Is there a reply, milady?” the messenger asked.
“Tell him, Laird Scott will be back in a couple of days. He will send his reply then,” Siena managed to say in a strained voice.
Her feet felt like lead as she went down the stairs into the great hall. Once she was alone, she walked over to one of the chairs by the fireplace and sat down. Siena realized she was shaking from head to toe so she took several deep breaths to calm herself before opening the letter. Quickly, she scanned the hateful words.
Agatha strolled in from the kitchen with two cups of hot spiced milk and sat them on the table between the two chairs. “I thought you might like something warm this morning, milady,” she paused and peered at Siena. “What’s wrong? You look like you have seen a ghost.”
“I wish I had seen a ghost.” Siena held up the slip of paper. “This is a letter from my father who I assure you is very much alive.”
Agatha gasped and set her cup back down before she dropped it. “What does it say?”
“Father has Michael.”
“That’s wonderful. The laird’s son is not dead. Laird Scott will be so happy.”
