Page 42 of My Highland Bride

An understanding. An alliance, of sorts.

“If I were my father, I’d speak to the men,” he says. “War with Meria will help no one.”

“Nay, it will not.” I remove my hand. “Tell it to the nobles who believe ’twould be best to strike while Galfrid is weak.”

Warin smiles. “’Tis your job, is it not?”

Gille laughs. “Precisely why we are here. At least, precisely why I am here. I begin to wonder about this one.”

My friend nudges my arm as both of my companions laugh, and I find myself glancing back at the fire to see if Reyne has returned.

“Do you see?” Gille shakes his head. “Your sister has captivated him.”

She has indeed.

17

Reyne

How is it possible that just one day remains?

In some ways, this has been the most pleasurable time of my life. Attending feasts and celebrations, cheering for Erik and my brother. Strolling through the market yesterday with my father, something I’d never done before in my life.

As predicted, I’ve enjoyed pretending not to know of his design. I’ve made quite a show of feigning surprise whenever he allows me to be escorted by Erik, unattended. And though I should not revel in others’ discomfort, I remind myself that had Erik not told me at Havefest, I would be the only Moray here not privy to the queen’s commander’s true purpose here.

Although we’ve been alone twice since that kiss, we’ve not repeated it. Though I am not aware of Erik’s reasons for holding back, my own are simple.

I am falling for him, and if I kiss him again, my fate will be decided, or as good as. So I pine for him instead . . . and remain undecided. Erik is all that I knew him to be. Suited to me in every way save one.

I still haven’t repeated my question about the queen.

Tomorrow is the last day of the tourney, however, and I cannot delay any further. I will ask him again this very eve at the feast. If he refuses to answer, I will take it as an affirmative, and return home without the promise of marriage.

“You are quiet, sister,” Warin says as we move into the great hall.

“I’ve much to think on,” I admit. “As do you.”

After days of attempting to learn the location of this secret meeting, Gille finally believes he's done so. When he spotted Rawlins among the tents, he followed him to the dovecote hidden in the woods on the edge of Ledenhill’s land.

Though he remained there for more than two hours and saw no one else enter or exit, they have not found a better lead. Erik, Gille, and Warin all plan to sleep among the trees this eve, out of sight of the dovecote but close enough to see if, indeed, this was the location of the secret meeting.

In some ways it feels as if I have already agreed to the match. Erik and my brother grow closer each day, and Father seems to have welcomed the son of his former friend into our camp and, perhaps, our lives.

And I want to . . . more than I’ve let myself want anything for a long time. But first I must know.

“You look beautiful this eve.”

I did not see Erik coming, but the voice from behind me is easily recognizable.

“Good eve, Erik,” I say, Warin, my father and his men moving ahead.

Turning, I nearly gasp. “You look so . . . official.”

His surcoat is not one I’ve seen on him before, not even at Havefest. It is emblazoned with the Tree of Loigh, the silver lining so bright it resembles real silver, which it very well may be. He has shaved, the beginnings of a beard now gone, Erik’s defined cheekbones on full display.

He looks less like the queen’s commander than he does a king.

“You do not approve?”