Page 14 of The Scottish Bride
Walking quickly, Tamsin put a hand to her head. The images that had just flashed through her mind—nightmarish and quick—were already gone. Her heart beat rapidly, her hands trembled. Just an instant, an unexpected vision—unwelcome, unsettling. She drew a breath against its effect, keeping it to herself. She had learned that lesson well in two years at Dalrinnie. Outside of her own family, visions were suspect and could condemn her as mad, or worse—even if they proved true, as some did.
But the harper had not fallen to the ground. He was here, safe and solid, striding beside her now. She drew a breath. Perhapsshe should warn him of danger. Yet he would likely think it ridiculous—or lunatic.
“Is aught wrong, my lady?”
“Just… I feared the guards might stop you. Arrest you.”
“For a moment, I feared the same.” He chuckled so genuinely that she smiled. As she and the others followed the harper like ducklings, he led them across the yard.
“Where are we going now?” Lady Edith asked.
Another guard passed them, then stopped. “To the gate, harper,” he said.
“I am escorting these ladies,” he said. The guard shrugged, moved on.
The lady looked up. “Do you ever tell the truth, Master Harper?”
“Sometimes.”
“Truth is always best, I think.”
“Is it?” he murmured. “Sometimes life turns better on a falsehood than a truth, I have found. A small lie might help us see the light of a new day—and we can save friends from trouble. Truth, virtue though it be, can put us in the kettle.”
She tilted her head. “Falsehoods help us survive and avoid disaster?”
He laughed. “That is not quite what I meant. Some events in my life have peeled away my ideals like an onion, my lady. Now I see the nature of truth as layered.”
“Oh,” she said, surprised, not having thought of it that way. “I suppose it is.”
“Once,” he went on, “I was an honorable fellow with noble aspirations. I defended what was right and spoke out in truth when others did not dare. Had I been more…nuanced, you see, a friend might yet be alive.” His voice went graveled, fierce.
“I am sorry. I think you are an honorable fellow, Master Harper.”
“Thank you,” he said simply.
She craved suddenly to know more about him, to ask who he was, where he came from—but a commotion of shouts and hoofbeats sounded near the gate. She saw knights on horseback pounding across the drawbridge and into the courtyard, dismounting and calling out, urgent and impatient.
Even in darkness, she knew the lead knight. She caught her breath and stepped behind the harper, grateful for the shield as she watched Sir Malise Comyn dismount.
“Is aught the matter, Lady Tamsin?” The harper turned, drawing his hood deeper over his brow as he spoke, despite the shadows where they stood.
“I do not want that knight over there to see me. The one in the blue cloak.”
“Aye, he is one to avoid.”
“You know him?”
“A bit.”
Sir Malise Comyn had worked often with her late husband as a Scots lord scheming with an English lord on behalf of Edward’s invasion. Overhearing those discussions, Tamsin worried for her kin and all Scots, especially after Robert Bruce killed Sir John Comyn, a cousin of Sir Malise. Just last February inside a church, of all places, Bruce had stabbed his rival for the throne and then rode off to claim the Scottish throne and begin to build a resisting army. The chain of deeds last winter had given the rebellion new heart, even though their leader was now an outlawed king in the heather.
Scottish to her bones and unable to speak freely inside Dalrinnie’s walls, Tamsin had seen events conspire from the perspective of an English garrison. She understood Sir Malise Comyn’s fury and indignation as he called for revenge and gained King Edward’s support. She saw the king promote him, grant him lands, feed his wrath, and order him to find Bruce atany cost. Sir John Witton and all Dalrinnie had been drawn into that vortex while she watched.
Oh aye, she knew Sir Malise. She knew he thought less about honor than advantage, less about revenge than royal favor. Less about others than himself.
If Sir Malise saw her here, he would press her about her purpose and perhaps her brother. That could lead to uncomfortable questions about Henry’s loyalty. She stayed behind the harper, watching Comyn.
The harper noticed and took her arm. “Come with me.”
