Page 55 of Come the Morning

“That is what Daro said,” Anne murmured.

“Daro is indignant about Mellyora, and in love with you,” Waryk told her with a slight smile.

Anne studied him, then said softly, “She doesn’t know what she’s being offered. But you should know, Mellyora is loyal and has a courage I lack, she … she is only fighting for what she believes to be …”

“Her freedom and her lover,” he said bluntly. “But it isn’t to be. Go on now, I’ve much to do.”

“I’ll stay with Anne,” Jillian said.

Waryk nodded, and the women left the room.

“Shall I follow them?” Angus asked.

“Aye, see them safely to Anne’s chambers. I’ll send to Daro, and speak briefly with the king—”

“Did you lie to the woman? Do you intend to tell the king what has happened?” Angus asked, puzzled that Waryk didn’t mean to keep his word.

Waryk shook his head, then smiled grimly. “I never give my word if I don’t intend to keep it. I’m going to speak with the king, but mention none of this. At the moment, Anne and Daro have no greater friend than me.”

Mellyora had been the first to realize that Anne no longer rode with them. She’d turned back, but been stopped by Daro. “No! We’re nearly to the camp. I’ll send men back.”

“Her horse is coming, chasing after us. Anne must have fallen, perhaps she’s been hurt—”

“She hasn’t fallen.”

“If she’s been seized, we must seize her back!”

“If we ride back now, we could face an ambush,” Daro said. “Then all would be lost. We keep going.”

“Daro, we can’t just leave—”

“Mellyora, we must keep riding.”

“But Daro, you must—”

“Mellyora! I am not a fool, and I know how to wage battle, and when not to wage it! We ride to the camp.”

She knew that he was deeply distressed, but he betrayed little emotion. Deep feelings of guilt and unease assailed her. This was her fault. She had made rebels of Daro and Anne.

As daro neared the camp, he called out his identity, and two of his men, Ragnor and Thayne, came out to greet them, and help them from their horses. Daro gave quick orders in Norse for men to ride carefully back along the trail to the fortress at Stirling, then set an arm on Mellyora’s shoulders, ushering her through the camp of makeshift wood-and-skin dwellings to the shelter he’d had built for himself. The Vikings were masters at temporary housing, using skills they had honed over centuries of invading foreign shores. There was a small room off the main structure of Daro’s great room, and her uncle sent her there. A servingwoman brought her a small copper bowl so that she could wash her face and hands. The little room contained a handsomely crafted Celtic tub as well, and a pallet bed of rich, warm furs by a blazing fire. She wondered if he had meant this room for himself alone, or if he had believed that he might marry Anne at Stirling and bring her here. She longed to curl up on thedeep pile of furs on the bed, but she knew she couldn’t sleep yet. Anxious regarding Anne, she hurried out to Daro. He sat before the fire that burned in a large, stone hearth in his long room, deep in thought, a chalice of warmed wine in his hands.

“Have your men come back?”

“They have.”

“What happened to Anne?”

“She is nowhere to be found, not lost or hurt along the trail.”

“But no ambush awaited your men? There weren’t soldiers out searching …”

“No. According to Ragnar, the prints show that a lone rider came and seized her. They were met by a second horseman while riding back toward Stirling.”

Mellyora’s throat constricted. “We were discovered missing just after we left … but your men met with no troops? They were not accosted? Daro, if the king is aware that you aided me in escaping …”

He looked up at her. “Then the king’s troops should be headed this way.”

She turned away from him, suddenly sorry that her world seemed to have escalated into such deadly drama. She really hadn’t wanted blood shed on her behalf. But what had she expected? That she could hide behind Daro in her defiance, and the king would listen rather than draw his sword?