“I am.”
“And he trusts you.”
“Aye. With good reason.”
“I am glad to hear it. I am aware he has disclosed our little secret to you. I do not know you well, but if the king trusts you, I do as well.”
Giric couldn’t have been more surprised. Andrews had all the outward appearance of someone who took advantage of his position in life and ran the other way at the first sign of trouble.
Andrews smirked. “The king is not the only master of disguise at Dunnottar, Laird MacDomnail. We have many enemies near and far and I saw through his guise from the beginning. In order to make it more believable, I offered to add to the complacency. I believe we have succeeded.”
“And Luther? Do you not think he could be skulking about listening to every word we say?”
“I will be made aware of his whereabouts as soon as I leave this hall. Know this, MacDomnail, the king and Scotland are in good hands despite outward appearances. You have been brought into the fold where few reside. Do not break the trust that has been placed in your lap.”
With that, Andrews arose from the table and left the hall, leaving Giric to ruminate on the conversation with both the king and Andrews. Aye, much was not as it seemed at Dunnottar. The question remained, were these men actually successful at plotting a future defence under the nose of Athelstan, or were they simply delusional from being holed up in the castle too long?
Either way, Giric had achieved what he’d set out to do and wouldn’t waste another moment in returning to Saga. He could not wait to take her into his arms and show her how much risk he was willing to take to keep her safe.
Chapter Twenty-One
The cool autumn breeze caressed her face. Saga had shrugged off Giric’s order to remain in her chamber and climbed to the tower many times over the past few days in order to rebuild her strength; her reward being the view and the clean air. She appreciated everything Freydis and Lady Fraser had done for her, but her chamber was too stuffy and she could take no more lying about.
The servant girl, Aslaug, had been sending word to both Freydis and Saga, from Prestwick, saying she wanted to be more useful to them. Saga understood that she’d likely been coerced into executing her past crimes, but she was not yet certain what to do with her. For now she would remain under the watchful eye of the innkeeper. Time would tell if she could regain their trust.
The responsibility of the woman weighed heavily on Saga. Or perhaps it was the damned Scottish gown she’d been encouraged to wear. The ties at the sides were so tight they practically bound her and stifled her breath.
This tiny platform was her only respite. The view from the tower was stunning to say the least. She couldn’t get enough of it. Surely there was no other place in this land that could offer more peace and quiet. She could think up here. She missed her home, that was certain, but primarily at the moment, she missed Giric which was what originally brought her up there. He’d been gone a sennight and she had lost count of the number of times she’d scanned the road leading to the castle.
The low thudding of horses’ hooves caught her attention and her heart soared. Except the sound indicated many horses, but Giric had travelled alone.
Saga leaned forward and squinted at the spot where the road disappeared into the forest. A heartbeat later the unmistakable blonde headed figure of her brother, Magnus came into view. He was followed by many others. Saga wasted no time descending the spiral staircase and making her way to the entrance of the keep. She met Magnus at the exact moment he dismounted.
Without hesitation, he picked her up and swung her around. “I am glad to see you up and about. MacAlpin left the impression there may not be much left of you.” He hugged her again. “I have missed you, Saga.” He leaned back and stared hard into her eyes. “It is time to come home, now. Your husband has broken his vow to keep you safe and Gunnar is convinced that is enough for you to divorce your husband and come home where you belong.”
Saga swatted his hands away. “I am going nowhere. This is my home now.”
“Saga, you must see reason. At least on Islay you have your clan to protect you. Who here can save you from another attack? It is clear that these people do not want you here, despite what their laird may say.”
“You are mistaken, Magnus. My husband has gone to secure the support of the king.”
Magnus’s jaw dropped. “He’s not even here?” Magnus moved away from Saga and kicked the dirt. “He left you? I cannot believe this! He made a promise to us and he’s broken it.”
“All is not how it appears, Magnus,” Osgar said from behind him. “And you misrepresent what Gunnar ordered.”
“What exactly did my brother say?” Saga asked.
Osgar came up to her and bowed. “I am pleased you have healed, Lady MacDomnail. These shores are better with you on them.”
Two small arms wrapped around her waist as a sob erupted from her sister.
“I prayed to Odin you would recover. I hated leaving you, sister.”
Saga kissed the top of Vigdis’s head. “It would take more than a little poison to defeat me, you know this.” She turned to Osgar again. “I ask again, what did my brother say exactly.”
“Gunnar said if I am not convinced of your safety, I am to return with you,” Magnus said.
“No,” Osgar said. “Gunnar said you were to come here and consider the full explanation as to what happened from Giric and satisfy yourself with the overall security of the castle as relates to your sisters.”
