Page 48 of The Scottish Bride
“The king ordered Malise to marry the widow. Me.”
“Marry!” The blow felt almost physical. He went silent, grim. “Though Edward may have thought it a pretty joke on Malise.”
“I beg your pardon!”
“I did not mean… Edward thinks you are an ancient crone, you see. Malise knows better but would agree to anything that brings him advantage. Still, I wonder about his orders,” he murmured. “How they differ from mine.”
“Does everyone know the king’s plans for the lady except the lady herself?” she blurted. “Were you told to toss me in a convent if I do not cooperate? Or also told to marry me? Is this some contest for Edward’s favor, with me in the middle?”
“I just want this book and have done with it. Edward did say he ought to marry me to the old crone. It was a cruel jest—marrying me to an old woman. Not you,” he explained in hasteas she gaped at him. “So he made Malise the butt of his joke. Still, it is a surprising order.”
She huffed. “’Tis not uncommon for a widow to marry again, you know.”
“True. By law, a widow is free to choose. So, why would Edward tell Malise to marry you, unless—ah, Dalrinnie. Did Sir John Witton leave his property to you?”
“He did. Malise knows that marrying me would give him Dalrinnie.”
“Under English law, aye. Scots law grants women more rights with property. But your husband’s will might not be valid in Scotland. Either way, it is complicated.”
“Either way, I had to escape. He meant to send for a priest immediately.”
“I see. But Edward has yet to appoint a permanent commander there, and I wonder why he would choose Comyn. Edward told me—” Liam stopped.
“You seem to know a good deal about this, Sir Harper.”
“I was part of a conversation in the king’s presence.” He was not ready to reveal the truth of the situation, but some would do.
“So the harper is a king’s man after all.”
The answer was complicated. He moved on. “You saw these orders?”
“A roll of parchment with the king’s seal and signature. I saw Dalrinnie mentioned, and saw my name, Malise’s too. Parts were scrubbed, as when a knife is used to scrape ink away for a correction. It did look hastily made.”
“Edward keeps his clerks busy and changes his mind often. There are errors and scrapings on many documents. Did you notice aught else?”
“Malise waved other pages about, maps too, while speaking with Sir Davey, my seneschal at Dalrinnie. You may know that Edward expects Malise to capture Robert Bruce and base theeffort at Dalrinnie, since it sits close to Ettrick Forest. They think Bruce’s men—perhaps Bruce as well—might be found there.”
“Sir Malise could not manage to capture Bruce before. I doubt he could do it now. Besides, it is difficult—even impossible—to find anyone in the depths of the forest.”
“You know the forest well?”
He shrugged. “I have spent time there.”
“Harper, knight, king’s man—rebel too. One of those who rocks back and forth, as many must do. My father, my brother, many good men I have known. You as well?”
He gave a solemn nod. “With good reason. What else did Malise tell you?”
“He warned me of repercussions if I refused.”
“He made threats?”
“A cage. I knew what he meant.”
He sucked in a breath. “Do not worry. An empty threat.” Reassuring her, he wanted to believe it too.
“But should I trust you instead of him, Master Harper? I gave you my faith at Lochmaben, and today. But you too want something from me.” He saw a steel glint in her gray eyes. “This supposed book.”
“Supposed?”
