“Rightful king of Scotland? Only because he rid himself of his rival by killing him in a church!” The news of the Lord of Badenoch’s murder last month had spread across Scotland like wildfire. She’d been shocked—horrified—and sad for his son. John Comyn was too young to have such a weight on his shoulders. But ironically she’d thought the murderous act would help Eoin make the decision to fightwithher clan. Never had she imagined Eoin...Oh God!“Please tell me you had nothing to do with it.”
His mouth tightened. “I was not there when it happened. It was regrettable, but Bruce was provoked.”
Margaret couldn’t believe this was happening. The nightmare was only getting worse. Her absent husband had come home, but he’d done so in full-fledged rebellion. He’d chosen to fight not only against her family, but against the most powerful man in Christendom. How could he have kept this from her?
“You can’t do this, Eoin. You have to reconsider. Think of what happened to Wallace. King Edward will do far worse to Robert Bruce—a man whom he trusted—and his followers. You will be hunted like a dog. And what of my family? There will be a civil war, and my father will never forgive you if you fight with Comyn’s murderer. I thought you loved me. How can you choose Bruce over our marriage?”
He frowned. “This has nothing to do with you or our marriage. My decision was made long before I ever met you.”
She stared at him wide-eyed. “But I thought... We discussed...” She looked up at him. “You let me think you would consider fighting with my family.”
He shook his head. “You let yourself think that. I told you I didn’t want to talk about it.”
Was that supposed to be some kind of excuse? “So I’m to have no say in the matter? You will make enemies of my family, put your life at risk, and I’m allowed no choice?”
“You made your choice when you agreed to become my wife.” He eased the harshness of his words by kneeling down before her and taking her icy hands in his. Big and warm, with more calluses than she remembered, they seemed to swallow hers up. “I know this is difficult for you, and I never wanted to hurt you, but you are my wife. Your loyalty belongs to me now.”
Her heart wrenched in her chest, as if it were being twisted in two different directions.
But he was right. No matter how much she didn’t want to hear it, she had made her choice when she married him. But she never realized what she would have to give up. With no discussion and no say.
“I love my family. You can’t expect me just to forget them.”
He shook his head. “I would never ask that of you. But I am asking for your support and loyalty. I’m asking for you to trust that I know what I’m doing. I truly believe this is the best thing for Scotland.”
“More war is the best thing?”
“If it sees Scotland’s rightful king on the throne and an end to Edward’s overlordship.”
“And you think Robert Bruce is that rightful king?” Half of Scotland—including her clan—would disagree.
“I do. I’m not asking you to believe in him, I’m asking you to believe in me.”
Her heart squeezed. “I do.”
The politics weren’t what mattered to her, it was keeping all those she loved alive.
“I didn’t know it would happen like this,” he said in earnest. “I thought we’d have more time together before war broke out. Believe me, if I didn’t have to leave—”
He stopped suddenly, as if realizing what he’d just said.
“Leave?” she repeated thinly, through lungs that had just had all the air sucked out of them.
His expression turned grim. “Tomorrow. I’d hoped to have longer, but we were unavoidably delayed. We will be racing across Scotland as it is to make it in time.”
She was too shocked to question him about “we.” She shook her head. “No.” She shook her head furiously, panic rising in her chest. “You can’t go. You can’t leave me here alone.”
“You won’t be alone, my mother—”
“Your mother despises me. She and Marjory can barely stand to be in the same room with me. You don’t understand how horrible it’s been since you left. Everyone hates me here.”
He looked genuinely taken aback. “I know it must be difficult adjusting to a new home, and it might seem that way, but—”
“Don’t tell me I’m exaggerating or imagining things, I’m not. They think I’m some kind of wicked strumpet who forced you into marrying me.”
The circumstances of their marriage unfortunately had followed them to Kerrera—as had the disparaging stories of her clan and the fair “maid” of Galloway.
He frowned, clearly taken aback. “If someone has said something to offend you...”
