“I ken the Steward must nae be given the opportunity to take the reins of a rebellion against ye again,” Iain said in a clipped tone, “but I would be without honor to stand quietly and allow my sister to be returned as a sacrifice to the clan that abused her so grievously.”
“Aye,” Alex murmured, before he had even realized he’d let the word slip out.
The king turned a sharp look on him, then sighed, as if he too understood Iain’s point. “I kinnae deny the request while yer sister is unmarried without raising the Campbell’s suspicion. It could give him the provocation he needs to rally his men and others. But if she were to remarry someone else verra quickly, I could send word to the Campbell that his request had regrettably come too late.”
It was a solution, Alex knew, to save Lena from returning to the Campbells, yet his body still tensed.
“Lena will likely rebel against being forced to marry anyone,” Iain stated flatly.
The king’s nostrils flared, and he opened his mouth twice to retort before finally saying, “It is yer responsibility as laird to make her comply.” Alex had never heard David speak to Iain with such authority, as the two men had been friends since childhood.
“And if I refuse to compel her to marry?” Iain asked, his own voice vibrating with barely leashed anger.
The king’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Then perchance,” he said in a halting tone, “I will have to reconsider my pardoning Cameron for his part in the death of my beloved Katherine.”
The king knew damn well that his mistress’s death could have been avoided if she had remained quiet as Cameron had ordered when they had been under siege as they’d been escorting her to Dunvegan. It had been no fault of Cameron’s. But Alex understood the king and Iain were locked in a battle of wills. Alex also understood that he may very well have to make a dangerous choice in a breath—allegiance to his king or allegiance to his greatest and oldest friend. The thought brought a sharp sting to his gut, and he held his breath, waiting to see what would unfold.
A swift look of shock and betrayal swept over Iain’s face before a dark expression settled there. Alex focused on the king, silently willing him to offer something to stop the breaking of bonds that was unfolding before his eyes.
The king inhaled deeply, then said, “I am trying to save yer sister, Iain. I would do this for no other but ye. I am yer king, but I owe ye much, and I ken it. Meet me in compromise and let us keep our friendship.”
“Exactly where do ye wish me to meet ye?” Iain inquired, his tone slightly less surly than a moment ago.
“We will give her a choice of whom to marry. It’s more than most women get.”
“That dunnae make it right,” Iain muttered. Alex could not contain his grunt of agreement.
“Ye’ve something to add?” the king demanded.
Alex frowned. “Nay, Sire.”
“Did ye nae just grunt yer agreement?” the king asked, looking between Alex and Iain.
Iain’s nod of confirmation shocked Alex. Devil take it, he’d not meant to make a sound. Lena MacLeod had gotten into his head this night, and he needed to get her out before he caused himself a grave amount of trouble. “I had something stuck in my throat,” he grumbled, aware of how untrue it sounded. Both men gazed at him, the king’s eyes questioning and Iain’s searching, but neither of them seemed intent on pressing further.
“As I was saying,” King David continued, much to Alex’s relief, “yer sister may choose her husband, but she must marry.” The last part of the sentence was said in such a way that any argument Iain might still raise would be done so at the peril of their friendship. When Iain gave a tight nod, David exhaled a long breath, and his face visibly relaxed. He’d been concerned, Alex realized with a start. “I’ve thought upon it, Iain,” the king said, “and I’ll suggest John de Lisle, John Danielston, or Archibald Douglas to yer sister. I expect ye to encourage her to acquiesce.”
The king’s eyes had strayed from Iain to Alex. David stared intently at him, as if waiting for him to speak. Alex frowned. Did he want him to voice his agreement? Likely so, but the words of concurrence he knew he should utter were lodged in his throat. He ground his teeth in irritation with himself. The king had listed fine men. John de Lisle was the keeper of Edinburgh Castle, and Alex had known him since boyhood. It was the same with John Danielston, who was the keeper of Dumbarton Castle. And Archibald Douglas was cousin to the Earl of Douglas. Lena could not ask for a more honorable husband and a formidable warrior in him, as well. Yet the idea of Lena marrying any of them made him feel ill.
“What have ye to say about these men?” the king suddenly asked.
Alex glanced at Iain, expecting him to answer, only to realize both men were studying him. “They are all good men,” he choked out.
The king’s mouth twitched upward, almost as if he was going to smile, but then he nodded and said to Iain, “The course of action is decided, aye?”
“Aye,” Iain agreed, his gaze lingering on Alex for a moment before he pulled it to the king. “All is decided. I’ll fetch Lena.”
“Aye,” David agreed. “Darius will accompany ye.”
“I dunnae need one of yer guards to accompany me to fetch my sister,” Iain growled.
The king’s face grew flinty. “Considering that yer sister disappeared rather suddenly the last time I commanded ye to return her to her husband, I’d say ye do need my guard with ye.”
A tic commenced at the right side of Iain’s jaw, which was the only indication of the anger the man was restraining. He jerked his head in a nod and strode toward the door.
Alex fought against his own desire to rush past Iain, locate Lena, and warn her, or even help her flee to hiding again, but there was no hope for that with the king present. Shocked at the intensity of his feelings, he looked to the now-closing door and then back to the king. He had to leave before Lena arrived. If he remained, he feared he’d be unable to stop himself from voicing his objections. “Sire, why did ye wish to speak to me?”
“I need ye to gain the trust of my nephew in order to loosen his tongue regarding the names of the two lairds who secretly support the resolution against me.”
“Ye wish me to go to yer nephew’s home to do this?” Alex asked. He tried to keep his tone flat, though the mere notion of returning to the Steward’s castle brought such black thoughts to his head that a sour taste filled his mouth and rage heated him. He had apprenticed there as a young lad with the Steward’s abusive, bastard brother, Gillis Stewart, and it was not a time he wished to relive. It didn’t matter that the man had been dead for fifteen summers. The devil haunted him from beyond the grave.
“I do. I kenned ye had a virulent dislike of my nephew Gillis, but I have long suspected ye also detested my other nephew, the Steward, for trying to overthrow me.”
Alex flinched at the mention out loud of Gillis Stewart.
The king surveyed Alex for a long moment. “I dunnae believe I ever kenned precisely why ye despised Gillis, nor why ye hate his brother so.”
There were many reasons Alex felt the way he did about Gillis and the Steward, but he only ever uttered one answer. “Gillis enjoyed tormenting me,” Alex said carefully. It was part of the truth, at least. “And I have little doubt that the Steward kenned his brother’s inclinations and chose to overlook it rather than put a stop to Gillis’s treatment of his apprentices. I kinnae abide any man who dunnae take a stand against evil.”
The king nodded. “Help me to recollect, Alex… Ye were there the day Gillis was killed, aye?”
Alex had to force himself to unclench his teeth. “Aye,” he bit out.
“And why did that lad kill him? The redheaded Fraser boy. What was his name?”
“Thomas,” Alex replied, though his throat felt as if it were closing. At the time, Thomas had only been seven summers to Alex’s twelve. Thomas’s scrawny frame and silly, smiling face flashed in Alex’s mind. And then another memory came: Thomas broken and sobbing.
Rage
rushed through Alex’s veins, same as it had done when he had walked into the stables and seen Thomas and Gillis, but Alex felt no remorse for what came after. The memory awoke him sometimes in a cold sweat with a fear that he was not a good person, but then he had but to recall the past and he set his fear away for the day he met his maker.
Alex swallowed hard while carefully picking words to give the partial truth he’d long told. “Thomas stabbed Gillis in the gut for beating him.” He could hear the cold dispassion in his voice, and he knew the king could, too, by the way his left eyebrow rose slightly. Yet, the king nodded his acceptance, which was a good thing. Whether his king or not, there was nothing and no one who could ever compel him to reveal the whole of what had happened in the days before Gillis had been killed.
“Ye are the right man to do what I ask,” the king said almost smugly, making Alex’s fingers twitch with the desire to curl into fists. But he held his fingers straight and unmoving, and with a will carved out of sheer suffering, he forced thoughts of Gillis far away in favor of concentrating on the present. David’s lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. “Ye will nae betray me with the Steward. Ye’d sooner cut off yer right hand than raise yer sword to fight beside him.”
That was true enough, but Alex offered only a nod.
“Once ye discover the two lairds who have secretly joined my nephew’s cause, ye will go to them and convince them to once more pledge their fealty to me. Give them land or titles or both, but ye must regain their support.”
“How do ye suggest I gain the Steward’s confidence to get these names, given he kens I’m faithful to ye?”
“We must appear to have a disagreement that causes a breach between us,” the king said easily.
Alex bristled because he suspected what would come next, and if he was right, everyone he held dear would soon think him a traitor. “I suppose ye wish me to nae tell a soul of the deception.”
“Ye’re correct. We kinnae chance it. Ye must appear to be a traitor to all who ken ye. The stronger their response, the more likely my nephew will be to accept ye. What say ye?”
“I’m but yer faithful servant,” Alex replied, as there was little else he could utter.
The creaking of the solar door alerted him that someone was entering. When Iain came through the door, Alex’s chest squeezed in anticipation of seeing Lena, even as he said to the king, “I’ll pardon myself so ye may talk to Lena and Iain in private.”
“Nay,” the king commanded, surprising him. “I wish ye to stay, as the matter of Lena now concerns ye, as well.”
Alex frowned. He didn’t know what the devil the king meant by that, but there was no time to ask. At that moment, Lena walked in, looking cautious and determined at the same time, a combination that would cause her problems with the king. The instinct to protect her sparked hot within him, and the truth of it hit him like a gale: he cared for her more than he’d realized—dangerously more.
Four
Lena’s cheeks heated with embarrassment when she saw Alex in the solar. She’d made a fool of herself earlier, fleeing as she had after he’d grabbed her elbow. She’d hoped that enough time would have passed before she encountered him again that he would have forgotten just how peculiarly she’d behaved. It shouldn’t matter to her what he thought, but for some reason, it did. It was irrational, of course, but when he’d revealed that he was drawn to her and then told her he’d only wanted one dance before departing, she’d allowed her mind to drift and dream while dancing with him. She’d found herself wondering what she’d do if he wished to court her. Could she allow such a thing?
It was shocking to even entertain the notion. Her thoughts had frightened her, and then he’d gripped her elbow and she’d had the irrefutable answer to her unasked question: she could not tolerate a man’s touch, not even that of a man she trusted as much as she did Alex.
Despair swirled within Lena as she entered the solar. She could think of no reason except another marriage edict from the king that would send Iain to fetch her from the wedding festivities. Moreover, her brother had been accompanied by one of the king’s guards, and the man, Darius, had stayed close to Iain’s side, making it impossible for him to tell her what was occurring. But based on his dour expression, she did not think it could be good.
Though she was embarrassed to see Alex again, his presence gave her hope that mayhap this audience with King David was not about an impending marriage. Perchance she, Alex, and her brothers were going to be punished for disobeying the king’s orders when he’d previously demanded she be returned to Findlay. Her entire body tensed at just the thought of her dead husband, and that fact quickly flooded her with anger. Even dead he had power over her. When would it end? Would it ever?
She stole a glance at Alex from under her lashes, and when her eyes met his, she inhaled a sharp breath. The intense expression on his face as his gaze locked with hers sent her pulse skittering in a way she had never experienced before.
“Lena,” King David boomed, capturing her full attention. She drew her eyes to the king as he motioned her closer. He held out his hands, palms up, expecting her to place her hands in his, and waves of apprehension roiled through her. She could not. She simply could not bring herself to do as he bid. Her gaze darted wildly around the room, noting her brother’s puzzled frown and then Alex’s look of understanding. She was too fearful to be shamed.
Alex strode to the king and whispered in his ear. David immediately lowered his hands as a pitying expression flitted across his face. Heat singed Lena’s cheeks that the king should now know of her difficulties, but then again, mayhap he’d not force her to marry now, knowing that he’d be sentencing her and her future husband to an unhappy union.
“I’m nae a cruel man, Lena,” the king said slowly.
The little bit of hope she’d held that sympathy for her may stay his plans for her disappeared. She could hear the unspoken but in his sentence. “Of course nae, Yer Grace,” she murmured dutifully.
“I ken what ye suffered and yer plight now.”
“What plight?” Iain demanded.
“’Tis my own affair,” Lena answered, hoping it wouldn’t anger the king. But honestly, it was bad enough that Alex—and now the king—knew her fear; she did not want her brothers all knowing she could not tolerate a man’s touch, as well. They would worry, and they’d done quite enough of that.
“We shall let the lady share her secrets only with those she chooses,” the king pronounced, glancing between her and Alex with a contemplative look, as if there was more to why Alex knew of her dislike of a man’s touch besides his accidentally figuring it out. She wanted to correct any assumptions the king may have had, but she doubted it would make matters any better. “As I was saying,” King David continued, “I’m nae cruel, and I have sympathy. Because of this, I am giving ye a choice in who ye will marry, but ye must marry.”
The pronouncement left her speechless, in spite of the fact that she had suspected it would be forthcoming. She swallowed repeatedly, trying to find words, but they would not come. Instead, it felt as if a hand gripped her throat and was squeezing. Her heart raced, and sweat trickled down her back. Iain came to her side and squeezed her arm. “I vow it will all be fine.”
She could not even nod. She jerked as the king started speaking again, telling her of the Campbell’s petition to have her marry his nephew, Daro. The thought of being returned to the Campbell clan made her feel dizzy with anxiety. Then David spoke of his great respect for Iain, which she understood was the main reason the king was giving her a choice of husband at all and why he was willing to arrange such plans and then tell the Campbell laird his petition had come too late. It was her chance to save herself from going back to a clan that was twisted and cruel. She knew she should feel relief, but she only felt ill. How could she marry again? She could not. Yet, she had to.
“What say ye?” the king boomed, breaking through the panic rioting in her mind. “Which man will ye take as yer husband?”
Her throat was dry. Too dry so speak. Her breath and her words seemed to have solidified within her. She clenched her hands into fists until her nails sliced through the skin of her palms. She hissed in surprise, glancing down to see the deep, ruby marks on her pale skin. She looked up to find the king, Iain, and Alex staring at her. But it was Alex from whom she could not look away. His eyes burned with pain. She recognized it because she’d seen it in her own eyes.
The need to rescue Lena from such a choice almost drove Alex to his knees, yet he forced himself to remain silent. He could do nothing for her. She needed a husband to save her from the Campbells, and while she clearly abhorred the idea of marriage, David had presented good men.
He drank her in—wide cool-blue eyes, white-as-snow skin, a fearful expression yet proud stance and defiantly tilted chin. She did stir emotions in him, protective ones along with ones of gentleness, that no other woman had ever awakened. He felt the heat of a gaze on him, and he drew his focus away from Lena to find the king staring at him with a distinct smile of triumph.
What in God’s name…?
“I have thought of one more potential husband,” the king stated.
“Who would that be, Yer Grace?” Iain asked.
“Alex,” the king promptly answered.
Shock flew through Alex followed by the need to voice his disagreement, but when he caught Lena’s unguarded gaze, fragility flickered in her eyes. He could not offer himself. To do so would be saving her from one devil and giving her to another. He was not the man for her. He was not the tender man she needed. Those emotions, that part of him, was simply dead. And yet… How could he say no? He could not explain, and he feared she would think it was her he was rejecting.
When a Warrior Woos a Lass Page 3