Page 38 of My Warrior
The man stepped forward with a frown on his face and a hand on his hilt. “I am.”
Cambria looked sharply at Holden. He answered her silent question, murmuring, “It’s plain. He’s the one who looks most eager to kill me.”
He regarded the steward with an assessing eye. The surly old bear looked to be a man of his word. His loyalty to his laird was unquestionable.
“Sir…?”
“Malcolm,” was the gruff reply.
“Sir Malcolm,” he commanded, “come with me. And you, too, Garth.” To the others, he said, “Try no trickery, and I won’t harm your lady. I only wish to speak to her in private.”
The Scots glanced uneasily at each other, and Malcolm explained. “Speak in private. That’s what your man said to Angus Gavin right before he slew our good laird.”
Holden frowned. “My man. Roger Fitzroi?” While that revelation in itself didn’t condemn Roger, it did cast a shadow on the story Roger had told. He nodded in agreement. “Then let’s surrender our weapons in good faith.”
Garth set aside his blade. Holden dropped his dagger, but replaced it with an arm around Cambria’s throat. His message was clear. He could kill her as easily with his bare hands. Of course, he wouldn’t harm a woman in a year of fortnights, but the Blackhaugh men didn’t know that.
Malcolm looked to his knights to assure their cooperation, unbuckled his sword, and then withdrew with the others to the adjoining chamber.
When they were safely closeted, Holden relaxed his hold on Cambria slightly.
“First, Sir Malcolm, I suspect there may indeed have been foul business afoot for your good laird to have been slain,” he confided. “Roger Fitzroi frequently overstepped his authority. For that, I extend my deepest apologies.”
Malcolm looked him in the eye for a long while. Then he nodded. “My lord, I think I’ve known all along that the de Wares are not men to ply such treachery.”
Cambria snapped her head around toward the steward in amazement. “What do you—?”
Holden halted her words with a warning squeeze of his forearm. “Secondly, I hope you understand, sir, that it’s not my habit to hold women hostage. I would prefer to release her and have her swear no treachery, but her word has proved worthless.”
“I’ve never broken my word!” Cambria argued.
He raised a dubious brow.
She averted her eyes. “I didnotattempt escape while you were away.”
He stared at the top of her head in grim amusement. “I’ll have to remember to be careful about how I word your promises. Very well, then, swear no deceit and I’ll loosen my hold.”
Cambria remained stubbornly silent.
“Come lass,” Malcolm coaxed. “Let’s end the bloodshed now and listen to what the Englishman has to say.”
Cambria didn’t want to listen to what he had to say. It was all lies anyway. But she supposed she couldn’t stop the arrogant bastard from speaking.
“Fine,” she said sullenly.
He immediately released her. She winced, rubbing her neck from an imaginary injury. Then the Wolf began to pace the small room, weighing some heavy thought, rapping his knuckles occasionally on the oak table.
“Therehasbeen too much bloodshed,” he said. “The rebel forces are increasing, but Edward’s army is far superior—in number, in skill, in organization. The Englishwillwin.” He turned, flinching as pain lanced across his ribs, but waved Garth’s eager attentions away. “You must choose sides. Whatever wrongs have occurred in the past, you must choose sides now. I can retain Blackhaugh for our people, yours and mine, but I must have your cooperation. Neither of us can afford to play this game of chess, taking rooks back and forth until Edward or the rebel Scots arrive. We must prepare for battle now.”
Garth hung on his brother’s every word. Malcolm nodded slowly in agreement. Only Cambria stared at him, incredulous. They were lies, all lies. How could Malcolm be taken in by Holden’s deceitful English tongue?
Holden continued, addressing her. “When England subdues the rebellion, Cambria, you’ll be under English law. A Scotswoman may not hold property under English law. Your father apparently was unaware of this, or he wouldn’t have struck such a useless bargain. In essence, he has left you powerless.”
“What?” She slitted her eyes at him. “That’s not true.”
Malcolm sighed. “He’s right, lass. Laird Angus had… Your father had hoped… He’d thought that one day…that you’d wed before…”
“Nay.” Her heart twisted with grief. She’d told her father time and time again that she had no intentions of marrying. Had he truly believed she would change her mind?
