“Hew,” Logan told her.“He’s taking a vow of chastity.”
“Chastity?”Helena scoffed.“For how long?Two days?Three?”
“Maybe forever,” Hew grumbled.
“What is it this time?”Helena asked.
“Another broken heart,” Logan supplied.
“Ah.Done with Gormal?”she asked.“I had a feeling that wouldn’t last.”
Hew fumed in silence.
Logan rolled his eyes.“God’s hooks, Ma.Gormal was three sennights ago.Keep up.”
She scowled at Logan in disapproval.Then she arched a damning brow.“Out,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument.
Logan trembled in mock fear.Then he called out “Farewell!”to Hew as he gave their mother a comically elaborate salute and made his exit.
When Logan had gone, Helena turned to Hew.Her face was grim.The sort of sober expression that told him she was about to make his day much worse.
“What is it?”he asked, eyeing the scroll she tapped against her thigh.
“News from Laird Deirdre.”
“Ah.How fares my aunt?”
“Well enough, considering.”
“Considering?”
“I’m sure you know about the king’s…friendliness…with Henry.”
Hew grunted.Scotland’s King Malcolm had become far too genial of late with Scotland’s foe, the English King Henry.Malcolm had taken Scottish soldiers to Toulouse, forcing them to fight alongside their sworn enemy, England, and against their old ally, France.
Most of the clans were deeply unhappy with the situation.It strained their loyalty and made them doubt the king’s wisdom.
The Rivenloch clan had been fortunate.Since soldiers were always needed to defend the Scottish border, they hadn’t been called upon to join the battle in Toulouse.Yet.
“Deirdre’s not planning to send soldiers to France?”It would be a particular insult to clans like Rivenloch—clans that had held the border against the invading English for centuries—to be suddenly forced to join their ranks.
“On the contrary.”She lowered her voice.“She’s looking to protect the clan from Malcolm’s…childish ideas.”
Childish.That was accurate.The king was barely a man.He was two years younger than
Hew.Malcolm had been but twelve years of age when he assumed the throne.
Hew shook his head.He’d heard the rumors about Malcolm’s latest childishly romantic notion.“You mean the one where he wishes to be knighted by the English king.”
“Vanity is a poor excuse for destroying an ancient alliance.”
Hew agreed.“So if Laird Deirdre is not sending Rivenloch men to war…”
“She fears Malcolm may try to forge an alliance with the English another way.”
“How?”
“Through marriage.”
