Page 41 of My Warrior
The fire in the center of the great hall crackled and sparked as the three friends spoke in low tones. Holden’s wound ached, and this conversation was doing nothing to alleviate the pain.
“Are you mad, Holden?” Sir Guy bit out. “What will the king say? What will your father say?”
He clapped his man on the shoulder. “I assure you, Guy, Edward will think it ingenious. After all, I’ve gained him a stronghold in the Borders. And my father?” He lifted the corner of his lip into a rueful grin. “I’m certain he’ll be content to have no more of my by-blows running around his castle. Nay, it’s my mother’s wrath I fear most of all, since she’ll not get to plan the wedding.”
Guy shook his head. “I still say it’s sheer lunacy,” he muttered. “The wench is dangerous. She murdered the last man who laid a ha—“
Holden scowled at him, and then glanced down at Myles, who shuffled from one foot to the other. The three were alone now, but Holden’s men still seemed reluctant to speak their mind.
“The last man who what?” he asked.
“Bah!” Guy snorted. “Can’t you see how this looks? It’s as if you’re…submitting to the Scots.”
“Cousin,theseScots are our allies.”
“How can you say that, when that wench has”—Guy counted her sins on his fingers—“taken you hostage, tried to slay you, murdered Sir Roger…”
Holden bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t lose his temper. “She took me hostage because it was a brilliant tactic. I would have done the same myself. She tried to slay me because she believed I ordered her father’s murder under trust. And as far as killing Sir Roger, there are some doubts I have concerning that.”
Myles looked up guiltily.
“Perhaps you’ll clear them up for me?” Holden suggested.
Guy and Myles exchanged glances, reluctant to speak, but Guy finally nodded assent.
Myles cleared his throat nervously. “Sir Guy missed the whole thing, my lord. He was deep in his cups, snoring on the table. He can’t be blamed.”
Guy colored, ashamed that he’d been less than attentive in his duties.
“Blamed for what?” Holden straightened, his interest piqued.
“And I,” Myles stammered, “I tried to s-stop him, but he set the h-hound on me.”
“Guy?”
“Nay, Roger,” Myles gulped. “Roger thought he’d…we all…he took her upstairs and…”
Sir Guy interrupted. “Roger had his way with her, my lord.”
A chill passed through Holden’s heart.
“I tried to stop him, truly I did,” Myles chattered. “Owen, he was as drunk as an alewife. I’m sure they meant no harm.”
“He raped her?” Holden asked in a calm voice that belied the turmoil he felt. No wonder Cambria had asked for that clause in their marriage contract. She’d already been violated once by an English knight.
Guy muttered, “Maybe she had cause to kill him—I don’t know—but I suspect the king won’t take kindly to your making his kinsman’s murderer the next Lady de Ware.”
“And the Gavins won’t take kindly to our executing their laird,” Holden snarled.
“Aye,” Sir Guy agreed, spitting on the fire. “It’s a coil, my lord. God’s truth, it might have been better had the wench been slain with her father at the first.”
He almost didn’t finish the sentence, so quickly did Holden go for his throat. Guy gaped like a hooked fish as Holden tightened his grip and burned into him with a black stare.
“Never say that again,” Holden whispered. “She is to be my wife, and whether you think her angel or whore, you will speak of her with respect. Do you understand?”
Guy nodded and gave a strangled reply.
Holden released him, then staggered back, stunned. He stared at his hands, unable to believe what they’d done. Muttering an apology, he strode from the hall out into the courtyard.
