Page 62 of My Highland Bride

“He could have harmed us,” I admit. “None of us saw him approach. I chose to trust him, and the man did indeed give us solid information. He said a repeat of Saitford will occur in one month’s time, so less than a fortnight from now, at Firley Dinch.”

Springing from her seat, just as I expected she might, Cettina asks, “Do you believe him?”

“Could it be a trap? Aye. But we’ve no choice but to respond.”

Though Firley Dinch is just a four-day ride from Breywood, we need time to prepare.

“If the Elderman is honest, they will not know we’re coming. He claims less than thirty men will carry out the attack. Unmarked, as they were before. They will meet at dawn in ten days’ time outside Craighcebor.”

A small village situated on the bank of the Terese River, just across the bridge from Firley Dinch, Craighcebor is both wealthy from trade and ravaged by constant skirmishes with the Merian Borderers.

“Assemble the Curia,” she says, unaware that I’ve done so already, anticipating her response. They are likely either outside the doors or on their way here.

“You will lead a force to Craighcebor, and I am coming.”

She holds up a hand as I start to object.

“My sister is there,” she says. “And we will send word to King Galfrid as well, to warn him of the attack. He will not have time to send men, but I would have him know this court is not complicit. If we are somehow unsuccessful in stopping them, I fear Rawlins and Whitley’s aim will find its target. Another Saitford will spark the very war we’ve worked so hard to avoid. And he should know the extent of the Prima’s interference as it does not bode well for either kingdom.”

Though I agree with Cettina’s assessment, her plan is not without risks. If the Elderman is indeed setting a trap, warning the Merian king could cause more trouble than it averts. And little would I blame him. Two attacks such as Saitford against Edingham, and we would already be assembling an army against Meria.

There is no reason to think Galfrid would not do the same.

“This Elderman,” Cettina says, “will either help us prevent a war, or start one.”

I think of Father Aiken’s deadly glare.

“Aye,” I agree. And at this moment, I cannot say for certain which is the more likely outcome.

25

Erik

“We leave tomorrow.”

I’d hoped for at least a few more days at the castle to help Reyne become accustomed to Breywood, but fewer risks can be taken since Cettina has chosen to travel with Lord Scott and I to the border. The decision was made to leave in the morn so our men have time to firmly install themselves at Carwell Castle in Craighcebor.

Reyne looks different with her hair piled atop her head. Her belongings will not arrive for some time, but her new maid somehow procured two new gowns for her. She’s wearing one of them now, dressed for supper in a cream gown with long, open sleeves lined with gold thread, her hair in stark contrast. She is so very lovely, and the thought of leaving her so soon makes me ache inside.

“So soon,” she says, dejected. A sentiment I can understand.

“Aye.” I stroll to a bowl of scented water left by the chambermaid. Tugging out of my surcoat, I am about to pull my shirt up to wash when Reyne’s look stops me.

“I’m not accustomed to sharing my chamber,” I say, although truthfully I’m pleased to do so. Reyne is like the first bright flower to bloom in a field that has seen the ravages of winter. Since Isolda, I’ve shied away from the thought of marriage, necessary though I knew it would be someday, and yet, here she is, looking at me with a mixture of distress and . . . something more.

“I’m glad you are here,” I clarify, taking off the shirt and positioning myself over the bowl. It’s only after I’ve rinsed, when I pick up the drying cloth to wipe my face, that I notice Reyne is staring.

She has seen me shirtless before, on our travels, but never under these circumstances. Never alone in a room with a large bed.

“Tell me of your meeting,” I say, immediately regretting my words. It is silly of me to think, hope, that her fears might have been eradicated by a single discussion with the queen.

Reyne sits on the bed, and although she’s been up here for a while now, I catch her glancing about the chamber. I’m suddenly grateful to have been assigned such well-appointed rooms. Once occupied by Cettina’s mother, they were designed for comfort, with velvet-cushioned window seats and the large canopied bed on which Reyne sits. This circular tower is thankfully at the opposite end of the castle and the river, but if it were not, I’d have arranged for us to move. Brightly colored trunks and cupboards that hold all manner of things, from bowls for washing to books that were here when I arrived, line the chamber. A sitting room is attached, one I hardly use and will gladly give up to Reyne.

Hopefully not for sleeping, however. Unlike some married couples, I plan for her to be in my bed, or our bed, each night.

“She was exactly as you described her,” Reyne says, her appreciative gaze not lost on me, particularly not on that part of me which is difficult to tame at the moment.

I splash more cold water on my face. One can never be too clean. When I dry myself again, Reyne doesn’t seem to realize anything is amiss.