Page 29 of My Highland Bride

I know what Cettina would have me do. But I cannot lie to this woman any longer.

“After the attack on Saitford,” I say. Reyne’s brows furrow at the sudden change in topic, but I press on. “. . . the call for a counter-attack on Meria was immediate. However, Cettina is not convinced it is the best course for Edingham, an assessment I agree with even more now, having learned what we did earlier today.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

A fair question.

“Whereas her father would have mounted an attack already, Cettina sent a contingent to King Galfrid to open a discussion. A move which infuriated some in the capital and beyond it.”

Reyne waits patiently for me to continue.

“The calls for war grow louder, even among the Highland lords, who typically avoid the politics of Edingham. Cettina’s allies cannot quell them all. Only your father would be able to do so effectively.”

I can see she begins to understand, but unfortunately, I’m not yet finished with my tale. Bracing myself for her anger, I continue.

“I was sent here to gain his support. To ask for his assistance in helping Cettina calm the Highlanders.”

Reyne laughs. “Then your visit here is for naught. Since Hendrelds, he has withdrawn his involvement with the crown in all matters. If your queen attempts to tame him, I wish her well. It cannot be done.”

I sigh, understanding Moray’s position, unwilling to remind Reyne, or her father, they are still subjects of the crown. But I know such a reminder would only serve to inflame matters, especially if it came from the son of Bern Stokerton.

This is the reason, I’ve always believed, I was made commander. A Highlander myself, I understand what those who were not raised in these mountains do not. In all but name, these men and women are as independent as those in Murwood End.

“She does not wish to tame him, but to work with him to avoid a war. One which may even make its way into the mountains.”

Reyne, still amused, speaks like a Moray. “With a king wrapped up in a battle over his own succession? Who just lost two hundred of his best men? I think not, Erik. If war comes to Edingham, it will come to its border and its shores. Not the Highlands.”

I do not wish to be harsh, but I will be nonetheless.

“We’ve taken children within the castle walls who lost both their mother and their father at Saitford. One who lost an ear and another who was carried through the gates by a farmer whose land was burned. The lad was still covered in his mother’s blood.”

Reyne recoils at my words.

“I serve all of Edingham.”

Her demeanor has changed, understandably. This is not how I wished this conversation to begin, but mayhap it is the way it needs to go. A shame, as the light above us, the music behind us, and the free-flowing wine could have made this a very different evening. But there is no time for fanciful notions.

Not for me. Not for Edingham.

“And so I came here, to this tourney, to speak to your father.”

Reyne raises her chin. “And you’ve done so. What did he say?”

I do not mince words.

“That he would not give his support.” Her nod says she expected as such, but I press on. “Unless he counts me as son-in-law. Then, and only then, will he give me his support.”

It takes her a moment, but when she understands, Reyne shoots up. I stand as well, reaching out a calming hand and laying it on her shoulder. She will not be pacified.

“He . . . he has no right,” she seethes.

Although we both know that he does.

“Why would he do such a thing?” Reyne shoves my hand from her, so I back away. Neither of us sit down. I attempt to take the goblet from her hand, as it tilts precariously to the left, but she pulls it away.

“Our lands border each other’s and”—I attempt a smile—“I am not a monster, Reyne. Your father knows me as well as any man.”

Her shoulders rise and fall in anger. But at least she has not fled. Instead, she raises the jeweled goblet to her lips and drinks. Deeply. She does not stop until it is empty, at which point she does hand it to me.