Or should she run away and hide in the forest somewhere?
Perhaps running away was the only way she could be truly free, but it wouldn’t suit her. She wanted to go back to her land. It was part of her.
Nay, none of the possible solutions suited her.
An hour later, her tears spent, she thought about poor Alasdair and how she’d dismissed him. The kind thing to do would be to apologize for her abrupt behavior. She freshened up a wee bit with the basin in her chamber, then opened the door to leave.
Before she could step out into the passageway, she heard the booming voice of Alex Grant, echoing off the rafters. “You cannot risk all of your lives for one person. I want you all to agree to my proposal about this venture.”
The four cousins each agreed with the proposal. This must have put an end to the conversation, for the next thing she heard was the screech of chair legs scraping across the stone floor. She stepped into the passageway and moved to the balcony so she’d be seen. While she had eavesdropped, it hadn’t been deliberate, and she didn’t know what to make of what she’d heard. Wasshethe one person they were risking their lives for? Alex Grant had seemed happy to see her—would he really have advised his grandchildren not to help her?
Alasdair bounded up the stairs and stopped in front of her. “You are better?”
“Aye,” was the only word she could get out.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is everything to your liking in the chamber? Would you like another?” He kissed her cheek, but she still could not move. Her hands gripped his upper arms as if she were afraid he would disappear.
“The chamber is fine. I…”
Dyna called up to him from below, “She probably overheard Grandpapa’s words and misinterpreted them.”
Emmalin stared into Alasdair’s eyes as he absorbed his cousin’s words. Not for the first time, it struck her that Dyna was remarkably intuitive.
“Grandpapa tends to worry,” he said at once. “He was warning the four of us not to go up against a garrison of fifty knights. Alick and I both have tempers, at times, especially toward the English, and he’s always afraid we’ll allow anger to get the best of us and bring us into an argument we cannot win. Els has had to play peacemaker before. Grandpapa wasn’t telling us not to protect you. We will.”
She still stared at him, her exhaustion now taking its toll on her.
He whispered in her ear, his warm breath soothing her. “Iwill. Do not worry yourself. I will always protect you. Besides, it was my grandsire who sent me to your land, remember? He knew you were in trouble.”
Emmalin glanced over the balcony railing and looked straight into the eyes of Alex Grant.
“I don’t wish to be a burden to any of you. Alasdair, I must practice with my sword on the morrow. I have much need to improve.”
Alexander Grant was a man of mystery. Was he glad she was here because of his friendship with her sire?
Or did his concern for his grandbairns override everything else?
Chapter Twelve
Alex knows the value of a lady’s maid…
Alasdair paced outside the stables, waiting for his grandsire to awaken. He’d stayed up later than usual to speak with them, to plan with them, and in his advanced age, he sometimes slept in after late nights. He wished to be on the road before the sun was highest, and they only had about an hour to make it happen.
They’d agreed last eve that the cousins would travel to Berwick to see what they could uncover about the king and MacLintock Castle. The big question was whether or not to take Emmalin. Grandpapa had wanted them to leave her behind, fearing her presence would put them at greater risk of being discovered. He also didn’t think the lass would be safe in Berwick.
Alasdair wanted her to go with them, because he believed it was the best way to protect her. In truth, he did not trust anyone else to see to her protection the way he would. Selfishly, he also wanted to be with her.
He knew their conversation last eve had discomfited her. She feared she’d be married off again, but he would never let that happen against her will. Neither would his grandpapa. She’d misunderstood what she’d overheard last eve, something he needed to make her understand. As soon as they finalized their plan, he’d talk with her.
He’d made his tenth circle of the stables when he saw two horses surging toward the gates, one carrying an older woman. She looked frantic as she bolted off her horse and raced toward the guards. Alasdair hurried over, sensing she brought news. Urgent news, from the look of it.
“My mistress, Emmalin MacLintock. She is here, is she not?”
The guards looked confused, but Alasdair snapped to attention and hurried out of the gates to uncover her purpose.
“What know you of MacLintock land?” he asked, doing his best to be vague.
“My mistress,” she stopped, panting to catch her breath.
