“Find someone else,” Lachlan bit out. “Put Douglas or Atholl in charge. I’ll serve you better in the west with Hawk.”
Bella frowned, wondering who this Hawk was, until she realized what he was saying. Then, were the situation not so dire, she would have smiled. MacRuairi was doing the objecting for her. He didn’t want to lead them.
“I decide how you should serve me, not you. Are you refusing my orders?”
Bella stilled, watching Lachlan’s reaction to the king’s challenge. His jaw clenched so hard his mouth turned white, and his eyes sparked with defiance. He held very still. Almost too still. Like a coiled snake ready to strike.
She could hear the grudging tightness in his voice when he replied. “Nay, I’m not refusing. I’m asking you to reconsider. This isn’t what I signed up for.”
What, duty and responsibility? She shouldn’t be surprised. A man who ignored his own clan was hardly a leader.
But as menacing as MacRuairi could be, Robert Bruce was one of the greatest knights in Christendom and not a man to back down from anyone—even a mean, overly muscular cutthroat. “This is exactly what you signed up for. Why do you think I want you in charge?”
The two men stared at each other for a long moment. Bella could practically feel the tension crackling between them.
Finally, Lachlan nodded. “I’ll ready the horses.”
Bella watched in frustration as he ducked into the shieling. It would have been nice if he could have convinced Robert, but it was going to be up to her to make him see reason.
The king started walking toward her and was so distracted that he might have walked right by her had she not stopped him.
“Sire, a word if you please.”
He glanced up and saw her. The hint of a smile attempted to break through the mask of strain. Her heart clenched with sadness, seeing the change that had come over him.
Robert Bruce looked like a man who’d suffered defeat. Who’d nearly been killed—twice. Who’d seen countless friends die at his side. He looked like a man who was being hunted and knew there was no safe place left to hide.
Bella felt the tears gather in the back of her throat. As long as she lived, she’d never thought to see such dejection on Robert Bruce’s face.
She’d been a girl no older than Joan the first time she’d met the handsome, young squire who’d come to train with her father. Even at ten-and-seven, he’d seemed larger than life. Gallant and charming, he’d tweaked her nose and told her she’d be trouble some day. Spirit to spare, he’d said.
Little did he know she’d need every ounce of it when she’d married.
Robert was the only man who’d ever made her think her opinions mattered. He was like the older brother she’d always wanted. Patient. Interested in what she had to say. Kind. And most of all, a fierce protector.
In those months he’d spent with them before her father’s death, he’d saved her from countless beatings at her father’s hand. Bella’s father was a cruel man with a volatile temper, prone to striking her whenever she displeased him—which was frequently. But Robert had an uncanny ability to distract him. To turn his attention from the awkward girl who’d dropped the bread, or dribbled her soup, or laughed too loud.
When some of his kinsmen had murdered her father, she’d been heartbroken. Not in mourning the death of a man who’d seemed a tyrannical stranger to her, but because she knew it meant Robert would have to leave.
She’d seen little of him once she was married, until a few years ago when they were both in London. Her face darkened at the humiliating memories. It was the one time her husband had struck her. He’d caught her and Robert in the garden talking and saw their friendship as something else. She loved Robert like a brother, and now as a loyal subject loved her king, nothing more. But her husband had tried to make it into something illicit.
“Is it true, Robert? Are you sending us away?”
The sadness in his eyes broke her heart. “Not sending you away, Bella, giving you a chance.” When he saw her questioning look, he explained. “They’ll follow me.”
Of course. He hoped to draw their enemies away, giving the women a chance to escape. Even now, he was still trying to find a way to protect them.
“Nigel is holding Kildrummy,” he said, referring to his youngest brother. “You should be safe there for a while. But if the English get too close, I’ve instructed Vi—” He stopped himself. “MacRuairi to take you to my sister, the queen, in Norway.”
He noticed her expression, but put up his hand to cut her off.
“I know you don’t like him, but he spent many months in Norway in his youth.” It didn’t surprise her. Of theGall-Gaedhilhalf-Norse, half-Gael descendants of Somerled, which included the MacDougalls, the MacDonalds, and the MacRuairis, the MacRuairi branch was the most closely aligned with the Norse. “He knows it, and if need be, he can get you there. You know how these West Highlanders are in their galleys.”
Pirates were excellent seafarers, but that didn’t mean she wanted to entrust her life to one. “It’s not that I don’t like him,” she explained. “I don’t trust him.”
Robert studied her face, his expression darkening. “Is there something you haven’t told me, Bella? Did he do something to offend—”
She shook her head furiously, cutting him off. “Nay, it’s nothing like that.” A few heated looks didn’t signify. No matter how they affected her.
