“He has, Sire,” Walter said, stepping forward with a bow. “Lamont came to me with a rather unexpected request. He asked to marry my betrothed.”
He heard Janet’s sharp intake of breath and felt her eyes on him, but he was watching Bruce. The king sat back in his chair, giving nothing away by his expression. “He did, did he? Did he mention that I had refused a similar request?”
“Aye,” Walter said. “He mentioned that.”
“And what did you tell him?” Bruce asked.
Walter’s gaze flickered apologetically to Janet before he answered. “I told him that I would give him my support and break the betrothal, if that was the lady’s wish as well.”
“It is!” Janet would have rushed forward to assure him, but Bruce held her back with a lift of his hand.
Ewen said a silent prayer of thanks. Until that moment, he hadn’t been a hundred percent certain that he hadn’t been arguing with Walter Stewart (who despite his youth had proved a formidable opponent) over the past few days for nothing. Ewen had been lucky to walk out of Rothesay Castle without having to promise him his firstborn.
“I assume he told you everything?” Bruce asked.
Stewart, who was obviously very conscious of Janet’s presence, blushed. “He did.”
The king didn’t say anything for a minute, but then he turned to Janet. “MacLeod will take you back to your room. Lady Anna has prepared a feast tonight on the eve of the Nativity. We will speak more later.”
Janet started to protest, “But—”
Ewen cut her off, taking her hands in his and giving them a gentle squeeze. “Go now. I will find you.”I will always find you, he told her silently. “Remember?”
She nodded.
“Trust me,” he said softly, holding her gaze. “I won’t let you down.” Not again.
She wrinkled her ill-treated nose. “I won’t always be this biddable.”
He smiled. “I shudder to think of it.”
He brought one of her hands to his mouth for a kiss before he finally released her, for what he swore would be the last time.
She marched rather huffily toward the door. Looking back over her shoulder, she gave her parting words to Bruce. “Remember your promise, Robert.”
“I didn’t make any promises,” the king protested.
“Aye, but I know you were about to.” She gave him a cheeky smile, wincing when it seemed to cause her pain.
Both Ewen and the king lurched toward her with concern. “Are you all right?” they asked in tandem.
Janet’s smile deepened. “I will be.”
The little minx! That wince had been a reminder. And he wasn’t the only one to realize it. When she left the room, Ewen and the king exchanged a look. Ewen suspected he would be wearing an exasperated and slightly defeated look like the one that was on the king’s face for a long time. Happily.
Twenty-six
Janet had waited long enough. Ewen had left the king’s solar over an hour ago. Lady Anna Campbell, the wife of Arthur Campbell, who was the keeper of Dunstaffnage for the king (and also, if his handsome face and muscular physique were any indication, one of the Guardsmen), had been kind enough to inform her of that, as well as where Janet could find him.
She took it as a good sign that he had been given a chamber in the castle, rather than under it in the pit prison. So why hadn’t he come to find her?
The castle was abuzz with excitement for the evening’s celebration. Janet passed a number of servants on her way down from her third-floor chamber to Ewen’s on the first. She frowned, however, when she noticed a young—and quite pretty—serving girl headed to the same door as she with a large bucket of water in her hands.
The girl was about to open the door when Janet stopped her. “I’ll take that.”
The servant looked horrified. She shook her head. “It wouldn’t be right, my lady. The laird is…” Her cheeks heated. “Bathing.”
“Is he now?” Janet hoped she didn’t sound as shrewish as she felt.
