Page 266 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Chapter Twenty One

A boy shot into the stables and came to a skidding halt beside Talbot. “John Comyn is here to see ye, laird,” he panted out the words.

“Comyn?” Talbot repeated. “Lord of Badenoch? One of the Guardians?”

The boy nodded, eyes wide. “He is at the gate.”

This, Talbot decided, wasn’t a good thing. He released the horse’s hoof and followed the boy from the stables. He reached the gate to find two men standing with their horses and two guards. The elder, a tall, dark haired man, met his gaze. The thin line of his mouth told Talbot the man wasn’t accustomed to being made to wait in the bailey, especially on a day that threatened snow. This was the Guardian.

“My lord Badenoch,” Talbot said when he stopped before them. “It is an honor to meet you.”

The man gave a curt nod. “Such an honor that ye force us to stand at the gate while we discuss business?”

Talbot looked pointedly at the other man. “This is my cousin Davey,” the Guardian said.

“I cannot imagine what business you have with me, my lord,” Talbot said.

“The kind I would prefer no’ to discuss in public,” Badenoch said.

Talbot canted his head in acknowledgement. Comyn tossed his reins to one of the warriors then started toward the castle without waiting for Talbot or his cousin. Talbot fell into place alongside him with Davey on Comyn’s left. When they reached the postern door, Talbot stood aside and allowed them to enter first. They crossed to the table near the hearth and sat. Talbot called for wine, then turned his attention to the Guardian.

“I have learned from Lady Taresa Baliman that ye are her grandson,” Comyn said.

Talbot started, then caught himself. “Lady Taresa is an old woman who grieves the loss of her daughter.”

Comyn barked a laugh. “I have known Taresa for over thirty years. She grieves for her daughter, but she is no fool. Show me your sister’s likeness on your arm.”

Anger flared, but Talbot rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. He felt Davey’s stare when Comyn grasped his arm and examined his sister’s face. A lad appeared with a pitcher of wine and two goblets and Comyn released Talbot, then picked up the pitcher.

“Ye are her grandson.” He filled the three goblets then set the pitcher down. “Deny it all you like, but everyone will know the truth. Including Edward, in case ye have any doubts.” He took a drink of the wine, then said, “Even if there were any doubt, he willna’ let ye deny the connection.”

That was the very thing Talbot didn’t want. “What has this to do with you?” he demanded.

“Ye must know he is Balliol’s brother-in-law,” Davey said. “We support Balliol. As must you.”

Talbot stared at the man.

“As the Earl of Baliman, ye become the most powerful man in Buchan,” Comyn said. “In fact, no one in Scotland will ignore you.”

“I am English,” Talbot replied. “At most, I will inherit Seward’s barony.”

“Ye are the Earl of Baliman,” Davey said.

Talbot didn’t like the younger man. A strange desperation laced his tone. It made Talbot wonder how far he would go to attain his goals.

“Enough, Davey,” Comyn said, then addressed Talbot. “Edward is sure to remind ye that ye are his English knight, but Scottish blood doesna’ take well to servitude.”

“I am English,” Talbot repeated.

Comyn studied him. “Mayhap English and Scottish interests are one.”

“What do you want, my lord?”

“I want to see your grandfather-in-law.”

Talbot had learned long ago there was no stopping the tide. He called for Seward, who joined them in the great hall. If Talbot didn’t know better—and he didn’t—he would have suspected the old baron of contacting the Guardian. But it could just as easily have been Lady Taresa who sealed his fate. Then again, it could be as simple as a rumor having reached Comyn’s ears. Either way, he was trapped.

“I have no intention of leaving Castle Glenbarr,” he told the two men. “Nor do I intend to claim the earldom.”