Page 23 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

“A petition.”

“Tae whom?”

“The King.”

Mairi became silent. Donaldina placed the quill against the parchment. For several moments, no words came. Then she wrote formally, because formal words were the safest kind.

She addressed King James with every title owed to him. She described Lachlan’s death, the instability within Clan MacNicol and the violence caused by Laird MacIver’s arrival under the old decree. She claimed that the marriage could no longer serve its initial purpose, as the conditions under which the agreement was signed had changed beyond recognition. She requested release.

The quill moved steadily until she reached Roy’s name. There, the ink thickened where her hand paused.

When the petition was complete, she read it twice. Every sentence was reasonable. Each argument was defensible. She folded the parchment before doubt could demand inclusion, pressed wax beneath her seal and watched the red surface harden.

A royal messenger waited in the courtyard, preparing to ride south before the roads worsened. Donaldina summoned a servant and placed the letter in his hands.

“This must reach Edinburgh.”

The servant bowed and departed.

Mairi watched from near the hearth. “Are ye certain?”

Donaldina gazed out the window. The petition was gone, but she still felt as if the decision still lingered behind.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Roy was halfway through a report concerning the western watchtower when Hamish stopped listening. It was not a subtle change. Hamish possessed many virtues, but delicacy had never troubled him. His attention moved from the parchment in Roy’s hand to the courtyard window, where a groom was tightening the girth upon a royal messenger’s horse.

“That rider leaves early,” Hamish observed.

Roy continued reading. “The roads are poor.”

“Aye.”

Silence followed.

Roy lowered the report. “Say it.”

Hamish scratched his jaw. “It has been brought tae me attention that he carries a petition from Lady Donaldina.”

Roy felt something tighten beneath his ribs. “What petition?”

Hamish gave him a look suggesting the answer ought not require military intelligence.

“The marriage.”

For several moments, he said nothing. Beyond the window, the messenger secured a leather dispatch case to his saddle, and Roy observed him test the buckle twice.

“When does he leave?”

“Now.”

Roy folded the report.

Hamish leaned back against the table. “Ye could let it go.”

“I intend tae.”

“Then why are ye standing?”