Page 9 of The Scottish Bride
“They should be thankful we did not toss them into the cage,” the other griped.
Liam sucked in a breath. “Harsh punishment for a female.”
“King orders it, we do it. Go inside!”
The bailey was a crowded and noisy yard where servants, soldiers, merchants, clerics, knights, and noblemen tended to errands or clustered in conversation. Seeing the brewer removing kegs from his cart, Liam lifted a hand as he walked past.
“A Scotsman?” the man asked low. “We watch out for one another, hey.”
Liam nodded and headed for the stone keep that soared over the yard. He paused, anonymous amid the commotion, noticing sentries, doorways, pathways, barriers. The best chance of finding the Scotswomen here was in the keep, its main door accessible by an open timber staircase.
He headed for the steps.
Chapter Three
The constable leanedtoward the clerk. “How many are left to see? ’Tis late.”
“Just one, sir, over there.” The clerk pointed toward the doorway, where a man cloaked in gray stood beside a sentry.
Glancing there, Tamsin saw a tall, broad-shouldered man whose hood shadowed his features. Yet she felt his keen gaze as a shiver sank through her. Did she know him? Nay, she thought, turning back.
“Is that your servant?” Merton asked her.
“Nay—oh!” Tamsin felt Kirsty pinch her arm.
“Aye, our servant,” Kirsty said. “Part of our escort come to take us home.”
Tamsin looked at Kirsty in confusion. Her heart pounded. The smallest untruth could sometimes unnerve her, all part of the truth-telling urge she had inherited from Grandda Thomas. But Kirsty’s quick thinking could help here.
Merton frowned, studying a parchment. “Dalrinnie is a contested area, being close to Ettrick Forest. Bruce’s men have been sighted near there.”
“We are not rebels if you imply that,” Tamsin said.
“I said your man is not here,” he barked. “We are done. Go.”
“But if my brother is with King Edward, would he not be at Lanercost?”
“Your name again?”
“Lady Tamsin, wife to Sir John Witton of Dalrinnie.” She omitted that he was dead, nor did the constable blink, perhaps unaware of Sir John’s passing. Tamsin hoped he had not heard that she had inherited the estate, making her valuable as well as vulnerable.
“A risk to leave your stronghold and travel here, madam.”
“Surely Sir John Witton’s wife deserves your protection,” Kirsty said.
Merton turned beefy red. “Henry Keith is not here, ladies. Go back to your castle and pray for safety.”
Tamsin sighed. Where was Henry? He had joined King Edward’s service to protect his family and his properties. But when Robert Bruce had killed Sir John Comyn to take the Scottish crown and Scotsmen began flocking to Bruce’s side, Edward had raised the dragon banner—a declaration of ‘no mercy’ where Scotland was concerned. Henry’s sympathies leaned toward Scotland, but now especially, he had to seem wholly loyal to Edward.
She, too, must appear loyal. The safety of her two sisters still residing at Castle Kincraig, now their brother’s property, could depend on the behavior of the rest of the family. Glancing at Kirsty, she saw her dark-haired cousin’s cheeks pinken with frustration and temper. Meekness was not in her nature, but Kirsty had good common sense and knew Tamsin must find Henry before she lost all.
“My brother is devoted to King Edward,” Tamsin said. “The Keiths have always supported the Crown.”
“Any Scot bears careful watching these days,” Merton said.
Though she pressed her lips together, her reply slipped out. “Most Scottish knights honor their oaths of fealty to the king. Yet Edward does not honor his promises to them.”
“You, lady, would do best to keep your pretty mouth shut.” The constable’s narrowed eyes and a lick of his lips expressed something darker than concern.
