The Guard. Thom stored the information away for later.
“There was another among us for whom it was not secondary,” MacRuairi said with a deadly look on his face. “He lost sight of his place and betrayed us. He fights for the English now.” He practically spat the last.
Whoever the man was, Thom wouldn’t want to be in his boots if he ever came face-to-face with Lachlan MacRuairi again.
Thom realized that Sir Neil Campbell, who in addition to being one of Bruce’s oldest friends was also brother to one of the Phantoms, must have overheard some of their conversation when he started prodding Randolph. “I hear you made quite an impression last night, Randolph. I’m surprised you did not call out the trumpeters.”
Randolph said something Thom didn’t hear, but he suspected it was a suggestion for Campbell to do something that was physically impossible.
The older battle-hard warrior just laughed. “Douglas’s sister seems too levelheaded to be charmed by such theatrics. That shining knight on a white charger routine isn’t likely to get you very far. I hope you have another plan in the works.”
Randolph might be arrogant and a bit pompous—if not priggish—but he could give as good as he got. “If it doesn’t, I suppose I can always try your method of wooing.”
“The hell you will,” Douglas said, obviously not appreciating the jest—Sir Neil had abducted his young bride a few years back.
Randolph smiled. Thom could see he enjoyed getting a rise out of his friend and rival. “I won’t need to. I think your sister and I see eye to eye on everything.”
There was something about Randolph’s arrogance—his cocksure confidence—that made Thom want to put a fist through his gleaming white grin.
But it was the fierce surge of possessiveness that gripped him, which told him he wasn’t quite as over Elizabeth Douglas as he wanted to be.
The question was, what was he going to do about it?
Would he take another step back? Concede? Stand aside and do what he was supposed to do? What he’d been doing his entire life?
Or would he fight for what he wanted?
Fight for what now seemed possible. As a knight and a member of Bruce’s secret army, he would have something to offer her. And maybe, just maybe, a life together wasn’t a complete fantasy.
“Are you looking for someone?”
Startled, Elizabeth turned to the man seated next to her at the high table. She plastered what she hoped was a relaxed smile on her face, although she was anything but. “Who would I be looking for when all of Edinburgh is gathered in this very room?”
Sir Thomas chuckled. “Aye, you are right about that. My uncle has invited most of the city—well, anyone of import, that is, for today’s meal.” He lowered his voice, a mischievous smile turning his mouth. “I might even call it a feast if this wasn’t the middle of Lent.”
Elizabeth laughed. It was hard not to be charmed by the vaunted knight. Sir Thomas Randolph, Earl of Moray, was witty, sophisticated, enjoyed the same things she did, knew the same people, and was just wicked enough to make things interesting. She was fortunate indeed. So why was she staring at doorways?
“Anyone of import.”
Not quite everyone—at least not to her. She hadn’t seen Thom since the night they’d arrived two days ago. She learned from Jo that he’d left the abbey to join the men in camp laying siege to the castle.
It was for the best, she knew. But why didn’t it feel that way? Why did her chest squeeze every time she thought of his face that night?
Was it guilt?
Whatever it was, it was affecting her interactions with Sir Thomas, and she knew it had to stop. He might begin to think she wasn’t interested, and she couldn’t have that.
He’d probably talked to her cousin Isabel more than he had her—which was her fault, as she’d made it a point to keep Izzie close to her side whenever he was around. Her cousin, however, didn’t seem very impressed with her soon-to-be-betrothed, and unfortunately Randolph sensed it. He went out of his way to charm her, but it had rather the opposite effect. Izzie watched him with an amused detachment that was halfway between rolled eyes and polite tolerance. Needless to say, Randolph didn’t like it, and Elizabeth sensed his growing frustration with her cousin. She certainly didn’t want that frustration extended to her.
Turning her full concentration to the man at her side, Elizabeth responded to his irreverence with mock shock. “A feast on a Wednesday during Lent? The abbot would never condone such a thing.”
Sundays were the only break from fasting during Lent.
They both glanced down the table to where the abbot sat beside the king with a huge trencher of food before him, and at least one very large goblet of wine. There was no meat, but with all the lampreys, oysters, and fish it was hardly missed.
Meeting each other’s gazes, they burst into laughter. When more than one person stared at them—including her cousin, who frowned disapprovingly at their loss of decorum—they managed to get themselves under control.
Randolph took a long swig of wine from his own goblet. “Lent or not, I’m grateful for the distraction. I’m going out of my mind with boredom. How much longer can the blasted garrison hold out? It’s been over two months.”
