Page 15 of The Heart of a Highlander
“William MacLean,” Brothwell said. “Do tell what brings ye here to my home to a competition for my sister’s hand. Especially given ye were nae invited.”
His home! His sister!
Ada clenched her teeth so hard her jaw pulsed. Despite her disgust with Brothwell, she found herself eager to hear what the man before them would say. “The king sent me,” he said without a hint of fear.
Ada could not tear her gaze from the powerful and brave man before her. Why would he admit such a thing to Brothwell?
“King David sent ye here, ye say?” Brothwell’s tone sounded civil, but his hand grasped the edge of the dais so hard, his knuckles were white.
“Aye. He got word of yer tournament and wished me to compete and win yer stepsister’s hand so he would control the woman who can make a king.”
William MacLean had a death wish or—Her second thought made her ill, but it was the most likely possibility: he had been sent on a secret mission by his king but William had decided to betray King David. Was he following in his brother’s footsteps? Ada had never fully believed Bram was a traitor, but now…
“I see,” Brothwell replied nonchalantly, which immediately made Ada suspicious. Brothwell did not possess a negligent bone in his body. He plotted every word, every gesture, every move he made. “Kill him!” her stepbrother ordered, and at once, guards poured forward with their swords raised at the warrior.
Ada found herself up on her feet, unsure how she’d gotten there, with her breath caught in her throat. “Nay!” she cried out, hardly believing she was defying Brothwell when Esther’s and Maximilian’s safety was at stake, but she would not sit by and watch Brothwell have a man killed and do nothing. Freya and Hella nuzzled her hands with their nostrils, as if they agreed with her decision. “He would have to be a fool to come here and say such things without another purpose, and he dunnae appear the fool to me,” she pointed out. She broke into a frightened sweat as Brothwell’s black gaze, unfathomable in its murky depth, landed on her. The anger radiating from him made her take a step back. She fisted her hands and summoned her courage. “Let him finish explaining himself.”
“Why should I?” Brothwell clipped.
Ada’s gaze immediately flew to William MacLean, who was looking at her with obvious incredulity. “Dunnae his brother serve ye?” she asked, grasping at what she hoped would make him pause and consider not killing this man.
Beside her, Marjorie shifted, and Ada could have sworn the woman hissed in a breath of pain. “Mayhap—” Ada hurriedly searched her mind for the right words to say, to persuade Brothwell to have leniency. “Mayhap he is here to do the same.”
To her relief, Brothwell looked as if he was contemplating her words, and then he said, “Speak quickly.”
“I ken, as does everyone, that my father and brother betrayed the king to serve the Steward and join forces with ye,” William said, the rich timbre of his voice making her breath catch. “I have lived in the shadow of that shame for years.” The pain that laced his words sounded so real that Ada did not believe he could be making it up. Her heart twisted for him. “I did everything in my power to oblige the king and make amends for what I thought were the dishonorable decisions of my father and brother. Yet in my time serving as one of David’s enforcers, I have come to realize that he is nae the king that the Scottish people need. He makes vows he dunnae keep, he takes land and castles away from good men because they want to have a voice in how their country is ruled, and he has become unreasonable. I kinnae follow him any longer. I can now see why my father and brother turned from him. I only wish I’d realized it sooner.”
Uncertainty flooded Ada. She didn’t know what to believe about this man, but she was still glad she had spoken up.
Suddenly, William MacLean dropped to his knee and lifted his sword. Ada bit her lip in dismay and disappointment, knowing what was to come. “Laird MacQuerrie, I bend the knee to ye now and will do so to the Steward when I stand before him. I pledge my sword arm, my life, and my fealty as long as I draw breath.”
If one wanted to gain favor with Brothwell, groveling before him and pledging oneself to him, a man who was hungry for respect and power, was the most certain way to do it. Disgust made her press her lips into a thin line.
“It will take more than a pledge of fealty for me to believe or trust ye, Wolf,” Brothwell said.
The warrior glanced up sharply, and when Ada looked to Brothwell, a sly smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “Yer brother paid special heed to whispers regarding ye this past year, Wolf, and Bram made mention to me of yer exploits. He was verra interested in what ye were doing.” Ada could see by the widening of William MacLean’s eyes that Brothwell’s words surprised him.
Brothwell rose and descended the platform quickly. “Rise,” he said, motioning for the man to do so. When William stood, he was slightly taller than Brothwell, who had, up until this moment, been the tallest man Ada had known. Everything about William MacLean commanded one’s attention, from the way he stood with utter confidence, his Viking legs spread firmly apart, to the easy look he wore on his face. The two men faced each other. A blade could not have been slid between them without the very real danger of cutting one of their noses.
“If ye are truly here to bend the knee to the Steward and pledge yerself to our cause, then ye will nae mind a task to prove yerself trustworthy.”
Ada held her breath with hope that the man would decline, though if he did that, Brothwell would surely kill him.
“I’ll gladly take on anything ye require, Laird, but will I nae miss the beginning of the tournament if I am performing this task for ye?”
“The tournament begins tomorrow, so ye can complete the assignment tonight, and if ye are successful, I’ll allow ye to fight in the tournament for a chance to woo Ada.”
Ada felt an odd mixture of emotions. On the one hand, she was angry that William seemed so willing to do Brothwell’s bidding, but on the other hand, she was glad he would not die this day. Though she certainly should not be so happy that a man who was betraying the king would live another day to strike at him. What was the matter with her?
“What is it ye require of me?” William asked Brothwell, interrupting Ada’s thoughts.
“Hmm…”
Just then, Connely came rushing through the crowd toward Brothwell and William MacLean. “Laird! Laird! I need a word with ye.”
Brothwell motioned him forward, and Connely quickly whispered something in Brothwell’s ear, to which he threw back his head and laughed. “Perfect!” he boomed. He clapped his hands, gave a quick order for the guard to gather some men, and turned back to William.
Ada had a bad, bad feeling about Brothwell’s good cheer. It usually meant something unfortunate for someone else.
Brothwell sneered. “The perfect way for ye to show yer loyalty to me and the Steward has just crossed onto my land.”
If Ada had not been staring at William’s face, she would have missed the way his lip curled ever so slightly in what appeared to be disgust. But the expression was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with a neutral one. Still, she vowed she’d seen it, and it gave her the tiniest bit of hope that perhaps William MacLean was not a real traitor.
“And what might that be, Laird?” William asked.
“Connely tells me that he spotted Thomas Fraser—an old friend of yers, I believe—on my land. He gave him chase and lost him. I owe Thomas’s father a bothersome debt, and capturing his wayward son will be the perfect way to repay it. Track him down, bring him to me, and then—and only then—will I allow ye to compete in the tournament.”
Surely no honorable man would bring his friend into the lion’s den willingly? Ada stared at William, and without showing a hint of regret, he said, “I’m at yer service, Laird.”
Either William was excellent at playing the part of a traitor or he was indeed disloyal to the king.
