She felt her husband’s gaze on her the moment she crossed the bridge beyond the portcullis. Hot, penetrating, practically radiating anger, his eyes took in every detail of her appearance.
Heat fired her cheeks. Blast her father and his temper! The bruise marring her jaw was going to make things much more... difficult.
She’d half-expected Eoin to be the first one of Bruce’s men to meet her, as she made her way into camp. That he didn’t come striding forward, but rather held his position on the periphery of the crowd of men waiting for her was mildly disconcerting.
Perhaps that was an understatement. The coiled snake approach was outright anxiety provoking—nerve-wracking in the extreme.
Refusing to be intimidated, she thrust up her chin and met his glare defiantly. She’d done what she’d set out to do. Eachann would be safe.
Her defiance didn’t last long. Barely had their eyes met for one pulse-pounding moment than she startled and quickly dropped her gaze.
Good lord! She knew what a mouse felt like. A fat, juicy mouse in the predatory sight of a hungry hawk.
Eek.
Margaret wasn’t accustomed to backing down, but there was something in Eoin’s eyes that told her now was probably not the time for challenges. Something that said he was of no mind to be rational about this. Something that made her pulse race, her skin prickle, and her breath quicken. Something that frankly made her want to run the other way.
Which is why she was relieved when she was led immediately into the king’s tent to give her report.
She tried to ignore her husband, but suspected her hands weren’t shaking and her palms weren’t growing warm from having to face the king.
She felt Bruce’s gaze sweep over her jaw. “You are all right, my lady?”
Margaret straightened. “It is nothing, sire. An unfortunate reaction to the messenger, I’m afraid, but I’m fine.”
She wasn’t sure whether it was a sound or a movement out of the corner of her eye that made her heart freeze. But the cold, murderous rage in her husband’s eyes sent ice shooting through her veins. Were it not for Lamont on one side and a man she didn’t recognize, but who looked to be in charge, on the other, she suspected her husband’s unusual restraint might have been at an end. As chains went, however, the two men by his side seemed more than equipped for the job.
The king flickered a warning glance at Eoin before turning back to her. “What happened?”
“It was as you suspected. The garrison was very low on provisions. They were surviving on bits of grain, meat from dogs and cats, and the last of the ale. The men were—are—suffering, my lord.”
She refrained from glancing meaningfully at Eoin. He had vastly underplayed the condition of the castle. Eachann might not have been suffering as badly as the others, but it was only a matter of time. Days. Her heart squeezed at the memory of seeing his pale face for the first time. She hadn’t wanted to leave her son, but she knew it must be she to bring back her father’s message.
“My father was not inclined to listen to me at first. But eventually I was able to convince him that there as no way out this time. He could either watch his men die or he could submit and see them live.”
“So he agreed?”
Hearing the disbelief in the king’s voice, she nodded. “Aye. You can send in your men to work out the terms of surrender tonight, and he will hand over the castle to you in the morning, and submit to your authority as king. But as you and I discussed, he and his men will be permitted to go into exile.”
Bruce was probably relieved that he would have her father’s submission without having to try to welcome his brothers’ killer back into the fold. She’d expected relief, and perhaps a little exuberance. But the tent stuffed with about fifteen men—most of whom were as tall and powerfully built as her husband—was oddly quiet. The king voiced what must be the collective concern. “How can we be sure this isn’t a trick?”
“You can’t.” She lifted her chin. “But I believe my father was in earnest, my lord. I would not have left my son in there otherwise. If you wish, I will lead your men in there myself.”
The king’s mouth twisted wryly. “That won’t be necessary. I do not mean to sound ungrateful, indeed I am very appreciative of everything you have done.”
Margaret nodded. Suddenly, the exhaustion of the past few days overwhelmed her. “If we are finished, I should like to return to my tent. I’m afraid I haven’t had much sleep the past few nights.”
There was definitely a sound this time. A sharp, harsh sound of outrage that made her heart pulse erratically and her breath hitch shallowly. She didn’t look in his direction this time, perhaps a little scared of what she might see.
The king nodded, and it took everything she had to maintain her dignity and not run out of the tent.
He would have caught her anyway.
She could feel his presence behind her as she wound her way through the camp. She was practically running, but his footsteps were ominously slow and even.Thump.Thump. Good lord, the ground couldn’t be shaking. She’d listened to too many faerie tales about hungry giants.
Wasn’t he supposed to be hobbling? How could he be walking so quickly with a stick to brace himself?
She knew there was no escape, but she still wished the tent had a door—preferably one with a big iron bar. Although somehow, she didn’t think that would keep him out tonight.
