Page 23 of Kilty Until Proven Innocent
One of the palace guards marched by, hand on his sword hilt, and Drummond adjusted his expression into his more habitual scowl so his reputation wouldn’t be ruined. Any more than it already was.
At his side, however, Brigit sighed. He’d expected her to giggle, to tease him. But instead, when he glanced down at her, she seemed…resigned?
“Are ye ready to eat?” he prompted.
“Aye,” she said in a small voice, and began to move, tugging him along by his hand. “This way.”
Now his frown wasn’t forced. Where were they going? “Brigit, this isnae the way to the kitchens. This area is for the King’s family.”
She didn’t reply, but led him toward a door he recognized. A door he’d only visited a few times when the King needed his input in a personal matter.
The Majesties’ private dining room.
“Brigit—”
‘Twas all he managed to get out before she dropped his hand then opened the door and stepped through.
Lunging, Drum caught her elbow, thinking to save her from humiliation and possible punishment for interrupting a private meal, but she didn’t hesitate. He saw the Queen look up at the pair of them, blink, then smile.
“Ah, Brigit, you have brought your beau, as promised.”
Her words didn’t make any sense. Drum was too busy glancing around the room, trying to take in everything, assessing possible danger and answers.
There was one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting, judging by her gown, who turned away from them as she arranged goblets on a tray the seneschal was holding. There was one of the King’s personal guards, standing at attention by the window.
And there was the King himself, chin propped in one hand as he studied the intruders in that difficult-to-read way of his Drumusedto know so well.
“Yer Majesty,” Drum blurted, offering a bow. “Apologies for this intrusion.”
“Should I be concerned?” the monarch asked wryly, and the question ripped at Drum’s chest.
“Nay,” he managed hoarsely. “An accident, merely.”
“No accident.” All eyes swung to the English queen, who sat straight in her chair, examining the silver knife at her setting. “I asked Brigit to bring you here. Lawrence, pour the wine.”
Confused as hell, Drum glanced at Brigit. She was staring straight ahead, face pale except for two small pink spots high on her cheeks, gaze locked over the Queen’s head. Refusing to look at him.
As the elderly seneschal shuffled between the monarchs, placing the goblets and pouring the wine, Drum swung his attention back to the King.
“Yer Majesty—I dinnae understand.”
“Drummond,” the King sighed, reaching for the goblet as the seneschal shuffled toward the door. “I have learned, over the years, no’ to try to second-guess the women in my life. It seems my wife had plans of her own. Darling?” he offered, spinning his wine between his fingers without lifting it.
With a regal nod, the Queen sat forward. “As a favor to you, husband, I tasked my Angels with proving the guilt of the man you have suspected, the leader of your Hunters.”
Angels? Drum glanced at Brigit again, but received no answer.
The Queen continued. “Luckily, Brigit already had a connection to him, and used that to get close to him. I requested she bring him here to share her findings.”
If he hadn’t been looking at her, Drum would’ve missed the way Brigit shrunk into herself at the Queen’s words.
But ‘twas only fair; he was doing a fair bit of shrinkage himself. “A connection?” he growled underhis breath, knowing he couldn’t challenge the Queen directly.
When Brigit flinched, he knew he’d hit his mark.
What in the everlovingshitewas going on here?
“Drummond.” The King’s commanding tone yanked Drum’s attention away from Brigit. The man lifted his goblet, his voice cold. “Since ‘tis clear ye dinnae understand what’s going on, allow me to explain. I am no’ the only monarch of Scotland to have a group of agents loyal to me, willing to die to protect the interests of our people.”
