Page 64 of The Scottish Bride
“They took all from you.”
“But for a brace of hounds that Sir David Campbell managed to remove, bringing them to Holyoak, to the care of my uncle. Gideon came later,” he added.
“The castle hounds,” she said faintly. “Oonagh. Roc.”
“Sir David kept two in the castle and brought the rest here. He is a good friend, or rather, he was. I do not know his stance these days toward the Setons.”
“He has been a friend to me.”
“I am glad of that.”
“So,” she said, “do you think by marrying me you will regain Dalrinnie?”
Though he dreaded that, it begged to be asked. “I mean to take it back somehow. I am determined. But not through you. That is not my intention.”
“What do you want?”
“Just now?” He looked at her. “Your safety. Your respect.”
She took in a quick breath. “Thank you for speaking truly.”
“Now you, my lady. Will you betroth, then? I will not force you to it.”
“Betrothal,” she said. “It can be dissolved, if we want later.”
“Dissolved. Aye.” His heart dropped a little. “So we are agreed?”
“Aye so. Should we take this to the abbot now? He wanted to know.”
He hesitated. “These are the silent hours at Holyoak. And he needs his rest.”
“But you are leaving in the morning. An errand for the king.” She frowned.
“The King of Scots,” he clarified.
He loved her quick smile. “I am glad to hear that.”
“As long as we are being truthful—I am thinking it is best to take that troublesome book of yours to Robert Bruce. Not Edward.”
“Not Edward.” Her quick understanding brightened her eyes to silver. “I see. I want to hear more about that.”
“You will. For now—”
“It is late. I know. But—I am relieved.”
Relief washed through him. “We could take our news to the abbot in the morning,” he suggested.
Tamsin began to answer but yawned, a sweet stretch of her mouth and throat, quite like a kitten after all. “When the bells ring for prime? Is that too early? When do you plan to leave?”
“A little after that.” Tempted to tell her that Bruce wanted her cousin brought to safety, he held back. Enough for now, he thought, as she yawned again. “Your sister’s infusion is taking hold, I see.”
“It is. But I am glad—to know more about you.” She cupped another yawn.
He held out a hand. “Come here.”
Chapter Eighteen
When he reachedout, she felt no hesitation, moving toward him readily. He was so broad shouldered and tall, seated at the lower end of the bed, that she stumbled, stepping over his large booted foot, though he pulled back. Grasping her hand, he guided her down. “Sit, do. Yet another trying day for Lady Tamsin, I suspect.”
