Page 38 of The Forest Bride
“I will not. And no one will hie off to accuse anyone, especially Menteith, a sheriff and an earl, without good cause.”
“What more do you need? I saw them. My friend saw them and their badges. Later he had my brooch. I know in my heart heis part of it. Do not waste time looking for more proof. Help me, please!”
“Where is she? See? Even with proof, we cannot make a move yet. Your friend, is he the lad with you in the village?”
“Andrew. He fostered at Kincraig.”
“Andrew Murray? The witness who spoke to the innkeeper?” When she nodded, he went on. “The hero’s son?”
She frowned a little. “Aye.”
“I knew his father. I know his kin.”
“All the more reason to join me in finding Lilias and Andrew too. I do not know where he went once you took me. Both are my responsibility, you see.”
“How so? This is a considerable burden for a lass alone.”
“If I you believe me, Duncan Campbell, then I am not alone.”
He wanted to believe her. He ached to say so. But his training, his obligation, and the risk in accusing Menteith, who was in Edward’s pocket, had to be considered.
She took his silence for refusal. “If you must ponder for so long, I will find someone else. Lennox is here. I can ask him.” She took a step toward the door.
He reached out and took her arm, knowing the door was unlatched. “Neither Lennox nor I will accuse Menteith of taking a king’s daughter without strong proof.”
She pulled her arm and winced. He let go. “You are a justiciar. Please—”
“As a justiciar, I am obliged to ensure the law is followed.”
“Oh! You!” She stamped her bare foot, the dress nearly slipping off her shoulder. “Then let me go and I will do this myself and you can ensure all the law you want later.”
His mouth twitched in a flicker of amusement, seeing a flash of the young Margaret he had come to love. And had hurt. He scowled. “It is late. You need to rest. We will boththink more clearly in the morning. These accusations have more consequence than you know.”
“I do know. But I hoped you were—the man I imagined you to be.”
“You thought me dead, so that is curious.”
“I meant I thought you would take quick action to help a king’s daughter.”
“At the risk of poking a heinous enemy, I will be deliberate. But if I have reason, you will see swift justice. I promise you that.”
Her gaze was intent, jewel-like. “You broke a promise once.”
“Long ago. Not again.” Outside the door, he heard footsteps. A knock followed, and he turned to open the door to Euphemia holding a tray. He stood back as she entered. She sent him a concerned look.
“All is well?” she asked.
“Well enough. I was just leaving.”
“Thank you, Euphemia.” Margaret’s smile was wan. “I am hungry. That smells good.” So she could be gracious after all, this wild thing, Duncan thought.
“Just bacon with pease pudding and bannocks. Best I could do, as my brother has let the larder go empty again. I must come here more often, Brechlinn, if you will leave Bran in charge,” she added. “He and the other men would wait ’til Doomsday before they would prepare a decent meal. Will you stay, sir?”
“I will eat downstairs. Lady Margaret, we will talk later.” He opened the door.
“Lady?” Euphemia raised her brows.
He nodded, then shut the door, and after a moment, dropped the bar in place, resolved to return soon to let Euphemia out. His friend would expect an explanation, and he owed her that.
