She ignored him, breaking into a run. He swore to himself. There would be no peace to fishing anymore. His father would come and berate him for not keeping the laird’s favourite niece onside.
He headed back. By the time he made it to the castle she’d disappeared. He found the place alive with activity, the coming of the heir to the throne had thrown the entire castle into turmoil.
Fresh rushes had been laid across the courtyard, there were bouquets everywhere. The forge had been damped down for the first time in months. It was strange walking past it without feeling heat coming from the flames.
He stayed away from the great hall. Margaret had been set up in there with her retinue, entertained by the laird and his musicians. The sound of a lyre echoed from the windows, soon lost among the noise of conversation and laughter.
He didn’t want to see Margaret, not after what had happened that morning. He’d found her in his chamber, rummaging through his things. His father was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t sure of the etiquette of asking a future queen what she thought she was doing.
He coughed politely and she turned to face him.
“I sneaked away,” she said. “I wanted to see you.”
“Me?” He got his first proper look at the future queen. She was little older than Lilias, thin nose, bony cheeks, ice white hair. She looked far more Nordic than Highland. She had a curl to her smile that suggested she was terribly amused by everything she saw, alongside being perfectly at home telling others what to do.
“You. I saw you when I arrived, sweating at the forge, that chest of yours glistening in the light. I wanted to see if you looked as handsome up close and you do. What’s that around your neck?” She took a step toward him, pointing at the locket.
He pulled it over his head, passing it to her. “It belonged to my mother.”
“I like it. I shall have it. Here, you may have mine in return.”
“I dinnae want yours-”
“Are you refusing a gift from your future queen?” She gave him a look that said execution was a click of the fingers away.
“No, your highness.”
“Good.” She tucked his locket into a fold of her dress, turning back to look out of the window once again. “They wish me to marry Edward. What do you think would happen if I told them I had married a blacksmith’s boy? Wouldn’t that be so funny?”
Tavish shook his head, not that she could see it. There would be war. Edward would attack the clan and hundreds would die. It would be very far from funny.
She looked at him, clapping her hands together. “Do you not think we might be happy together. You with those muscles, and me the queen. We could be most wonderful together.” She turned to face him, her face suddenly cold. “Do you not want to marry me?”
“I wouldnae risk provoking a war.”
“You are the foolish idiot son of a blacksmith. I offer you a kingdom and you turn me down. I can’t believe you would do that. I hate you.”
She marched past him without another word, vanishing down the stairs and leaving him utterly bewildered.
None of it made any sense. Was she serious? Was she joking? Then as the forge was forbidden from being lit, he’d gone fishing. Lilias had brought him flowers and he got his second marriage proposal in one day.
He looked up at the windows of the great hall. Was Margaret telling them all about it? Or was she going to pretend nothing had happened?
His continued his search for Lilias but it proved fruitless. No doubt she was in the hall with Margaret. Eventually, he made his way to his chamber.
If it wasn’t for Margaret’s locket on his bed, he might have been able to convince himself he’d imagined the entire thing. But there it was, proof he hadn’t made it up. She had come to him and proposed, no doubt part of an enormous joke.
“Are ye all right, son?”
He turned to find his father standing in the doorway. “You are no joining them for dinner?”
“I havenae any appetite.”
“You’re no wearing your mother’s locket. It’s tae keep ye safe, ye ken?”
“I took it off tae go swimming.” The lie came quickly to his lips. He did not want to burden his father with the truth. He looked tired enough. He had been working night and day for weeks in preparation for the arrival of the princess, forging new swords to be given to her retinue as gifts from the clan.
“What happened?” Fingal asked, coming in and closing the door behind him. “Something ails ye.”
