Page 109 of The Scottish Bride
He came toward her then, reaching between the bars for her hand, and she fought back a half-sob, half-laugh as his fingers, hard and cool, closed on hers. Behind him came a phalanx of men, soldiers, forest men, villagers. Sir Davey came too, looked weary, moving slowly. Liam glanced at him, keeping Tamsin’s hand in his.
Campbell gave him a nod, clapped him on the shoulder. “What do you need, William of Dalrinnie? Anything. Anything at all.”
Tamsin felt the slight startle Liam gave at the address. “Men,” he said then. “Loyal men. And a key.”
“A key. Sir Malise has it.” The man looked toward the bailey, where the bonfire burned low and tame. Men gathered there, some in a cluster around Comyn, lying on the ground, while others watched, waited.
Sir Patrick Siward came up the steps now, and Tamsin saw Lady Edith behind him. She gasped, relieved to see the olderlady. But she could not help but wonder how this would go—Siward was loyal to Malise, and to Edward. But he stood by silently.
“Dalrinnie Castle,” Sir David called out, “is returned to its rightful owner, Sir William Seton, Lord Dalrinnie. Any who disagree with that can leave now.” He waited a moment or two. “Those who agree and stand ready to support Lord Dalrinnie in his natural right as his father’s firstborn heir, are welcome to stay as part of his garrison. You know the meaning of this in terms of the crown. I will wait.”
He stood watching. Tamsin saw a flurry of activity below, men talking, gesturing. Others gathered Malise and carried him to a cart filled with straw, laying him there. Gideon stood with them. He stopped and looked up. The men with him, Gilchrist included, stopped as well. All listened, watched.
No one moved. Not one man. Tamsin caught back a sob and renewed her grip on Liam’s hand. His fingers responded, pressing, while he, too, waited in silence.
Then a rousing cheer rose up. Tears started in her eyes. Beside her, Agatha stepped forward to rest her hand on their joined hands.
Liam turned. “Sir David—I will speak to them. Tamsin should come with me. But sir, we need a key. Or a blacksmith.”
Then Lady Edith pushed forward. “Key? I have many keys. Will one of these do?” She jingled the ring of keys at her belt.
“What are you doing with the key to the cage, woman?” Sir David asked.
“You gave me charge of Dame Agatha,” she told her brother. “You gave me the second key to the cage so I could take her to the pot! In all this madness, you forgot that.” She handed the key to Liam. “You!” She stared hard at him. “Are you the harper?”
He laughed, low and dry. “I am, my lady.”
“By the saints! Excellent, sir. Rescue these ladies now, please.”
Tamsin waited as her husband inserted the key in the lock and twisted it, then yanked open the door and stretched out his arms. She stepped back to let Agatha go first, waiting as brother and sister hugged for a long, long moment.
Liam whispered something to his sister and kissed her scarred cheek. She spoke low, fervently, as he listened. Then he handed her into the arms of Lady Edith—who, Tamsin realized, may have known these Setons for years, for the Campbells had been at Dalrinnie for years.
Then Liam reached for her, and Tamsin stepped out of the iron cage and into his embrace, pressed close in his arms. He cupped her head, smoothed her hair, tilted her face to his and kissed her brow, her cheek, her lips.
Then he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Baronness Dalrinnie,” he said, “come to the edge with me, and we will talk to these fine people.”
She would always go to the edge with him. She would go anywhere with him. As she stood beside him, he set an arm around her and another loud cheer went up—from those who had held Dalrinnie when she was lady there before, those who had come with Sir Malise and disliked his actions, and the villagers who had come for a bit of revelry and found something far more important. They cheered, hoorahed, rang bells, clapped.
Then Sir William leaned toward Lady Tamsin and kissed her for one and all to see. Hearing the cheers, feeling a warm blush rise in her cheeks, Tamsin laughed, looking out at those gathered below.
“Lass, do you trust me now?” Liam murmured. “This place, our home—this is the truest and best thing I can offer you. That, and my heart always.”
“I always trusted you, my love,” she said, smiling, waving. “I just did not know it.”
Epilogue
Dalrinnie Castle
February 1307
Tamsin added adelicate pen-stroke in red to the tall rubric initial and sat back, pleased. The parchment page, spread flat on the table and weighted with stones, was almost done. Liam would surely be surprised by the latest addition in the growing collection of the Rhymer’s verses. For months, she had been carefully copying and preparing the pages to give Master Bisset as soon as they could travel to Selkirk.
Setting down the quill, she flexed her arms and rolled her neck a bit. She had been hunched over parchments all afternoon, and her shoulders and neck were stiff. Near her, Oonagh looked up from a nap, ruffed low, and settled again by the hearth fire, a content hound guarding her mistress on a cold winter afternoon.
The light was fading. She would put away her writing things soon, for she was sure Liam would return today; she woke that morning with a strong sense that he would be heading home. Glancing toward the arched windows where the tops of pine trees showed dark through thick leaded glass, she prayed he would be back by nightfall.
She had counted eighteen days since he had ridden west to bring another roster of support to Robert Bruce, along with news gleaned from compatriots in Ettrick Forest and elsewhere. She longed to see him, feel his arms around her, know his strengthand warmth beside her at night. The bed was cold without him. And she had news to share now, for she had been counting the days for another reason.
