Page 49 of How to Be a Scottish Mistress

The mockery of the king’s words bathed Gavin in guilt. His actions toward Fiona had been anything but chivalrous. “My relationship with Lady Fiona will in no way impede my obligation to ye or my commitment to the cause. I will do as ye ask and take one of these women as my wife.”

Robert stood and extended his hand a second time. Gavin accepted it with considerably less enthusiasm than before, knowing it was the final seal of his pledge to obey.

Robert pulled on his leather gloves, then glanced around the chamber. “Perchance, is there a back staircase?”

“I’m afraid not. I shall escort—”

“No fanfare, Gavin. ’Tis safer. Trust me.”

Still, Gavin insisted on checking the hallway first, to ensure that no one was in sight. Satisfied, he signaled for the king. Robert slapped him on the shoulder as he left, and Gavin watched the king’s back as he descended the staircase. The moment he stepped foot in the great hall, a small contingent of soldiers emerged from the shadows, quickly surrounding the king. They drew almost no attention as they walked through the nearly deserted hall and out the front door.

The minute they disappeared from his sight, Gavin hurried back to the solar. Leaning out the window, he saw the group head for the stables. One of the soldiers spoke briefly with Aidan. Horses appeared and the men swung onto their mounts, riding out without a second glance.

Gavin was still preoccupied with the scene outside the window when the door burst open. Aidan, Duncan, and Connor stood in the doorway, their expressions openly curious.

“Is Robert safely away?” Gavin asked.

“Aye, and looking mightily pleased with himself,” Aidan replied. “Are we off to fight again?”

“Not yet,” Gavin answered, almost wishing that were the case. Though the idea of killing his fellow Scots was distasteful, the idea of another marriage to a woman he had never met and didn’t know was not much better.

“If we aren’t going into battle, then what did the king want?” Duncan asked.

“We know that whatever it was, ye agreed,” Aidan added.

Gavin raised his brow. “Now, why would ye say that?”

“’Cause Robert was grinning like a half-wit when he called fer his horse,” Aidan explained. “’Twas obvious he was pleased with the outcome of yer meeting.”

“I need a drink,” Gavin declared.

“I’ll fetch some ale,” Connor volunteered.

“Nay. Tell Hamish to bring a jug of whiskey.” Gavin’s command was met with surprise by all three men. Distilled locally, the potent liquor was used mainly for medicinal needs and by the earl’s decree, drunk only on special occasions.

They remained quiet until the whiskey arrived. Gavin solemnly filled each cup and passed them around. “Robert wants me to take a wife,” he announced, hoisting his vessel and gulping the contents. It burned like fire as it ran down his throat and spread through his gut—a welcome distraction from his current woes.

“Damn! ’Tis no wonder ye’re needing a dram of whiskey,” Connor exclaimed, refilling Gavin’s cup.

“Has he chosen yer bride fer ye?” Duncan asked.

“Nay. He’s given me a list.” Gavin brandished the parchment in front of the trio, waiting for a reaction. It took a few moments before he realized they were unable to read it.

Taking another fortifying sip of his drink, Gavin then slowly recited the names, combing his memory for any glimmer of recognition. There was one woman on the list he had actually met—Shana Agnew. She was attractive, with dark hair and striking blue eyes. She also possessed a shrill voice that grated on the nerves and a propensity for talking about everything and nothing. In his head, Gavin immediately shifted her name to the very bottom.

Connor idly picked at the cheese on the king’s platter, then tossed a piece into his mouth. “I saw Margaret Colville at a tournament in the Highlands two years ago.”

“And?” Duncan prompted.

“There’s more to a woman than good looks,” Connor said philosophically. “Perhaps she has a sweet countenance or a kind heart.”

Gavin restlessly tapped the tips of his fingers together. “I dinnae require a beautiful lady, though given the choice, I would prefer a woman who is passably attractive.”

“Then ye’ll need to consider someone else besides Margaret Colville,” Connor said with a good-natured laugh.

“That’s unkind,” Aidan admonished.

Connor shrugged. “’Tis harsh to judge a lass purely on her looks, I know, but Gavin’s the one who’ll be sleeping beside her. And we have to think about the clan. We dinnae want his bairns to look like a herd of horses. Or worse, a litter of piglets.”

---