Page 80 of The Laird's Vengeful Desire
“How bad?” Ian asked, though the tight set of Tristan’s shoulders already told him everything he needed to know.
“Bad enough that the messenger was askin’ pointed questions about our guest before I managed tae send him on his way,” Tristan said carefully. “Questions that suggest His Majesty kens about things that should have stayed within these walls.”
Ian’s blood turned to ice in his veins. “Someone’s talked.”
“Aye,” Tristan said solemnly. “The messenger kept lookin’ around like he expected tae see somethin’ – or someone.”
Ian sank into the chair behind his desk, every muscle in his body coiled with tension. After the perfect intimacy of the night before, and the tender way Rhona had looked at him as they’d ridden back to the castle, he had allowed himself to hope that perhaps they might find their way to happiness without the entire world conspiring against them.
I should have kenned t’was too good tae last.
“Let me see it,” Ian said, extending his hand.
Tristan hesitated for a moment, then placed the letter on the desk as if it were a venomous serpent.
Ian broke the seal with hands that remained steady despite the storm brewing in his chest. The parchment crackled as he unfolded it, and his eyes immediately went to the formal salutation that began every royal correspondence.
To Ian Wallace, Laird of Clan Wallace, from His Most Gracious Majesty, King Charles II of Scotland, England and Ireland.
It is with great displeasure and considerable alarm that I write tae address the disturbing reports that have reached me attention regarding yer conduct as laird of yer clan, and as a subject of the Crown.
Ian’s jaw clenched as he continued reading, each word hitting him like hammer blows.
I have received credible testimony from multiple sources regarding yer treatment of Lady Rhona MacAlpin, second daughter of Laird MacAlpin. It is alleged that ye have held this noblewoman captive in yer castle fer the better part of four months, subjecting her tae treatment unbefitting her station.
“Credible testimony,” Ian muttered with dark humor. “I wonder who His Majesty considers credible these days.”
Furthermore, it has been reported that what began as yer predecessor’s crude political maneuvering has developed into something far more unseemly under yer leadership. Witnesses claim tae have observed inappropriate intimate behavior between yerself and Lady MacAlpin that suggest coercion rather than courtship.
Ian’s hands began to shake with barely controlled rage. He thought back at what was being referred to. Someone must have been watching them –must have seen their kiss after the village raid, witnessed the proposal that Rhona had rejected so vehemently. But the way it was being presented to the King…
“Lachlan,” Ian said the name like a curse. “This has his stench all over it.”
Tristan nodded grimly. “Aye. He’s been bidin’ his time fer an opportunity like this.”
Ian continued, reading, his expression growing darker with each line.
I am compelled tae inform ye that this matter requires immediate resolution. It has been determined that a royal visit tae Castle Wallace is necessary tae assess the situation thoroughly and ensure personally Lady MacAlpin’s safe return tae her family and shall arrive within the fortnight with sufficient escort tae guarantee her protection.
Ye will ensure that Lady MacAlpin is treated with the respect due tae her station until the Crown’s arrival. Any attempt tae relocate her from yer lands or otherwise interfere with the investigation shall be viewed as an act of defiance against the Crown.
I trust that ye understand the gravity of this situation and will conduct yerself accordingly. The consequences of failing tae dae so would extend far beyond yer personal circumstances tae affect the standing and future of yer entire clan.
By the Grace of God, King of Scotland, England, and Ireland,
King Charles II
Ian let the letter fall to his desk, his mind reeling with the implications. The king himself was coming to Castle Wallace. To investigate. To retrieve Rhona.
“What are we goin’ tae dae, me laird?” Tristan asked quietly.
Ian stood and moved to the window, staring out at the courtyard where everything appeared deceptively peaceful. Somewhere in the castle, Rhona was probably still recovering from their night together, perhaps even allowing herself to hope for a future that now seemed more impossible than ever.
“The king’s letter makes it clear that he believes I’ve been… compromisin’ her,” Ian said tactfully. “If he arrives and finds her here, unmarried, after months of captivity…”
“It’ll look just like Lachlan wants it tae,” Tristan finished.
“Aye. And it willnae matter whether she came here against her will originally, or that I’ve treated her with honor. All His Majesty will see is an unmarried lass who’s been livin’ under this roof fer months.”
