He looked at her as if she was a half-wit and she hoped she hadn’t overdone it. “We do.”
“Then perhaps it was the plum. They are equally delicious. Do you have those as well?”
His veneer of politeness was wearing thin. Talk of food, furnishings, and music had permeated her two interrogations—much to his impatience.
“We’ve sent a message to your father, but he has yet to respond. Why is that?”
This was dangerous territory. Her value would diminish considerably if the English discovered that her father wouldn’t come for her.
“Perhaps he is away? Has your messenger returned from my husband?”
He frowned. “Not yet.”
There was another knock at the door, but Christina was used to the constant interruptions. In the hour he’d been trying to question her today, a steady stream of men had moved in and out.
A young soldier entered and handed him a missive without explanation. Lord Seagrave must have been expecting it because he opened it and read it quickly. The devious smile that turned his mouth piqued her curiosity.
“Have the men gone?” Lord Seagrave asked.
“Nay,” the young knight said. “Should I send them in?”
Christina stood, not hiding her eagerness. “I can return to my … chamber.” The small, windowless room in the tower hardly qualified.
He gave her a hard look. “We’re not finished. Stay here, I’ll be only a moment.” He left her alone, closing the door behind him.
Christina frowned until she saw the open parchment on the table. The hairs on her arms stood on end. She couldn’t believe it. He’d left the missive.
Heart pounding, she leaned over the table and turned the documents around to face her. She scanned the top page first, noting that it was written in French.
She gasped, reading it again to make sure she’d done so correctly. It was from the Red Comyn to King Edward, informing him of treason by Bruce—the proof attached herein. She quickly lifted the top piece of parchment and saw a sealed indenture in Latin below. It was detailed, but it appeared to be a pact between Comyn and BruceagainstKing Edward. And now Comyn meant to betray Bruce, using their bond as proof of treason.
Hearing heavy footsteps outside the door, she replaced the documents and leaned back in her chair, trying to steady her pulse and wipe the nervous flush from her cheeks.
Her heart pounded as she forced her mind to answer his questions as nonsensically as she could, while planning her escape.
She couldn’t wait for rescue, not when that message would be on its way to London at any moment. Though she was unfamiliar with the area, she knew that Bruce’s Annandale castle of Lochmaben was nearby. How she would find her way, she didn’t know, but she had to try.
If that letter reached King Edward, Robert Bruce would soon be following Wallace to the grave.
