The Laird's Captive Wife(29)
For some reason she had not been expecting that. Managing to keep her voice steady she said, ‘And afterwards you will return to Glengarron.’
‘Aye. The weather will close in soon and I want to be back before it does. Besides, my men are keen to see their wives and families again.’
‘I see.’
‘You spoke once of wishing to go to Dunfermline,’ he said. ‘Is that still the case?’
Ashlynn’s heart beat a little faster. Now it was presented to her she was by no means certain it was what she wanted. However, to say so would make her sound indecisive and anyway there was no viable alternative plan.
‘I must get my living somehow and can think of no other way,’ she replied.
‘Then I will speak to the king on the matter.’
‘The king?’
‘Aye. ’Tis he whom I’ve come to meet.’
Her surprise was unfeigned. ‘When?’
‘Tomorrow.’
She stared at him, her mind struggling to assimilate the information. If the king agreed to the request then tomorrow would bring a parting of the ways with Iain. In all likelihood she would not see him again. Once that thought would have gladdened her beyond measure. Now several different emotions vied for supremacy as she considered the ramifications. Underlying them all was something harder to identify. However, he was watching her closely now, waiting for her answer. Taking a deep breath she nodded.
‘Very well.’
‘So be it,’ he replied. ‘Of course, the king may refuse.’
‘And if he does?’
‘Then you’ll come with us to Glengarron.’
‘Oh.’ It was a lame response and she knew it, but could think of no words that would have described her feeling just then. If Iain took her to Glengarron it could have only one ultimate outcome. To suppose anything else was naïve in the extreme. To think she had once regarded marriage as a problem!
Misinterpreting that reply entirely, he frowned. ‘Whatever is meant to be will be, lass, whether you want it to happen or not.’
* * *
They left for the rendezvous at dawn accompanied by an escort of six men. The cold was biting and grey mist curled in wreaths above the fields. Every branch and blade of grass was furred with hoar frost. Ashlynn did not ask where they were going; that would become clear soon enough. She had slept ill the previous night, her mind in turmoil, no longer certain of anything. Once or twice she glanced at the man beside her but his expression revealed nothing of his thought. Was he hoping that the king might grant her wish and take her to Dunfermline? Hoping that he might be rid of her for good? When she considered the trouble she had caused him already it would hardly be surprising. Once she would not have cared two straws for his opinion. Now, the thought of his disapproval was strangely discomforting.
The journey was short, little more than a mile, and ended outside a house hard by a small stone church. Half-a-dozen horses were tethered nearby, guarded by two armed men. Iain greeted the latter briefly, receiving a like greeting in return, and dismounted. Ashlynn followed suit. They went together into the house where a servant showed them into a small, sparsely furnished chamber. It was clean however, and a cheerful fire burned in the hearth. For a moment neither one said anything. As usual Iain’s expression was unreadable.
‘Wait for me here, lass.’
With that he left, closing the door after him. Ashlynn crossed the room and put her ear to the wood, listening intently. She heard a few murmured words beyond and knew then that there was a guard outside. The windows were high and barred with iron. Clearly she wasn’t going anywhere. He fully intended that his parting instruction should be kept. An unnecessary precaution as she had no wish to leave just then anyway. She sighed and turned away to warm herself by the fire, trying to ignore the knot of apprehension in her stomach and wishing she could hear the conversation taking place elsewhere.
* * *
Malcolm listened carefully while Iain delivered his report on the military situation in England. As ever it was clear and precise. Moreover, it favoured his plans entirely.
‘This falls out better than I had hoped.’
‘William’s forces are divided in dealing with several different rebellions, my liege; not only in Northumbria but also along the Welsh Marches and in the east, in the Fen country.’
‘Then he’ll be too busy to deal with Scottish incursions across the border,’ Malcolm replied. Clapping his companion on the shoulder he poured two cups of whisky from the jug on the table. ‘Let us drink to his confusion.’
Recalling the destruction he had witnessed on his journey north, Iain nodded. ‘Right gladly.’