Page 40 of Dark Side of the Laird
She swallowed again, her limbs trembling and I removed my hand.
“He’s not at all well, my laird, and so ye see, they’ve not ordered a meal, but if ye like, I can have Cook bring ye some porridge?”
I grunted. “Where is the steward?”
Her eyes lit up, as though she were excited for having better news for me. “He’s with the king.”
My frowned deepened. “The king has risen.”
“Aye, my laird.”
Why wasn’t I summoned? “I wish to have words with him. Please take me to his chamber.”
The light went out of her eyes and she shook her head, glancing back toward the ground, her knuckles turning white against the handle of the bucket she carried. “I canna, my laird.”
“Why?” The words came out harsher than I intended.
“Because he has ordered all of us to stay away.” The woman’s voice had gone softer, barely audible.
I held in the growl of frustration that bubbled to the surface. “Then tell me where his chamber is and I’ll see myself to it.”
Panic struck her then as she glanced up at me, her eyes wide with fear. The bucket in her hand shook as she trembled, and I admit to being worried that whatever it contained would spill on my boots. “I canna, my laird, I’m so sorry.”
“Why?” I growled, not able to hold it in, and no longer caring that I sounded harsh.
“He has not told us where it is,” she said, shrill.
“Ye mean to tell me that ye dinna know which room your king sleeps in?” ’Twas ludicrous!
She shook her head. “We dinna. He changes every night.”
“Who knows then?”
“Just the steward.”
I narrowed my eyes, a myriad of thoughts going through my mind. Was she lying? Was the steward in league with MacDonald, wishing to keep the king hidden away, vulnerable? Was he really ill or had he been poisoned? If Lady Isabella could have so easily poisoned myself and my men, wasn’t it possible that someone could have gotten to the king and done the same thing?
Very possible.
I needed to find him immediately. I waved the maid away who breathed out a sigh so filled with relief, it almost made me laugh. Almost. If I wasn’t so worried over my brother I might have.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, prepared to begin my search, the steward appeared, as if from nowhere. Melting from the shadows like a spy. I narrowed my eyes, scrutinizing him, but he smiled brightly, as if I’d handed him a purse full of gold coins.
“Good morning, my laird.”
“Where is the king?” I had no time for niceties.
“He is dressing now, and will meet ye in his study. Will ye follow me please? I will take ye there to wait.”
I didn’t move. “He has improved?”
The steward’s gaze shifted slightly. “Indeed, he has. Will ye follow me?”
I nodded, trailing the steward across the hall to opposite set of stairs, but keeping extra alert to anything afoul. He led me to a chamber with a lit fire, a long trestle table and reams of rolled parchment. Looked to be the king’s study, but even still, I was suspicious.
“How is King James feeling this morning?” I asked, more direct this time.
“Much better. He woke up…jovial. When I informed him ye were here, he requested that I bring ye to the study. He is most…eager to see ye.”
