Page 33 of Kilty as Sin
Sure enough, as they reached the courtyard, Father came hurrying down the steps, shrugging into his finest robe. A squire hurried behind him, balancing cups on a platter.
Frowning, Grace studied him, even as Barclay swung down from the saddle and reached up to lift her as well. Father seemed…happy?
“My dear, my dear, thank the Good Lord ye are safe!” he effused as he hurtled to a stop before her, his arms still wide. “I have worried and prayed for weeks!”
Grace allowed him to embrace her, holding herself stiffly in surprise. When had he ever embraced her?
His hands were clamped to her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length as if he couldn’t bear not to touch her as he studied her. “Ye are well, child? Whole? Hearty?”
She caught his glance at Barclay, wearing the King’s colors and be-helmeted.
“Aye,” she managed. “Nae thanks to the men who ye sent after me, Father.”
When he began to sputter, Barclay stepped forward. “Milord, what Lady Grace means is that the men had caught her, aye, but had opted to break yer trust, and were attempting to…attack her.”
“Attack her?” Father’s eyes went wide in genuine concern. “Ye mean—are ye no’ a virgin any longer, lass?”
‘Twas a crude question, especially asked out in the middle of the courtyard with so many of his people gathered around. Grace blushed, and even Barclay’s tone was harsher when he responded.
“Milord, I was able to stop them in time. Yer daughter was fighting valiantly, but I dispatched them, and brought her back home immediately. To ye.”
Father looked unaccountably relieved. “Good, good. I had promised— This could have ruined my plans.”
Frowning in confusion, Grace sent a glance to Barclay, but of course couldn’t read his expression beneath the steel.
Apparently realizing he wasn’t making sense, Father turned from her, gesturing the squire forward. “Come, ye must drink with me! A toast in appreciation to the brave Hunter who returned my precious daughter to me!”
He held a flagon to Barclay, who took it almost reluctantly. Father’s hand hesitated only a moment over the tray before choosing a cup for Grace, then one for himself.
He raised his flagon. “To His Majesty, and His Majesty’s Hunters! May they continue to do good for the people of Scotland and bring peace!”
Well, shite.
Shehadto drink to that, did she not?
Barclay lifted his cup in toast but didn’t sip. She realized he likely couldn’t beneath the helmet. But Father was drinking, and watching her over the lip of his cup, so Grace sighed and sipped from hers.
The mead was really quite good; much better than anything she’d had in recent weeks. ‘Twas thick and sweet and made her tongue tingle a bit, so she took a second drink, then a third.
The languid warmth stealing through her limbs was exactly what she needed to keep herself calm.
Hold yerself together. As soon as ye’re in yer chambers, ye can begin to make yer plans!
“Sir Hunter, what did ye say yer name was?” Father asked abruptly.
“I didnae.” Barclay inclined his head. “And now I must return to Scone for my next assignment.”
Father was frowning thoughtfully at his rude response, but at hearing Barclay would soon be gone—the subtle reminder about the King’s pleasure was smart—his expression cleared.
“Och, aye, anonymity must be helpful in yer line of work, eh? Send the King my regards, and I will write him my thanks immediately.” He shifted just enough to bring Grace into his line of sight, his expression once more too jovial to be believed. “I owe him—and ye, Sir Hunter—for returning my precious daughter safe and sound.”
Precious daughter?
Father had never shown her this much care. Was it possible that her disappearance had made him genuinely worried for her? Or was he more concerned with hispreciousalliance?
Grace wasn’t fooled.
Her only use to her father was as a bargaining chip.
