Page 59 of The Knight's Pledge
Harriet’s face was still pulled tight with angry fear. “Is this true, Sir Lucan?” she demanded.
He nodded, reaching into the satchel at once and withdrawing Iris’s leather portfolio. He set it on the tabletop and then pushed it toward Tommy. “The king won’t be easily ableto ignore it.”
Effie’s father undid the leather thong and withdrew the thick stack of sheaves carefully, almost delicately. He flipped through the uppermost pages, his forehead creasinginto a frown.
“My God.” He looked up at Effie. “What have they accused you of?”
“Murder,” Effie answered straight away.“And robbery.”
“Lies?” Tommyasked calmly.
“I consider what I’ve done neither murder nor robbery. Simply that I’ve spent the years since escaping Darlyrede building a community of those who’ve been wronged. And together, we have tried to take back for the people some of what has been stolen from them.” She paused, letting Tommy sit with his surprise, her throat tightening. “I waited a long time for Padraig. For you.”
“Oh, my lass,” Tommy murmured and left his seat to embrace her again.
“The notorious band of criminals that populate the forest around Darlyrede,” Lucan inserted himself into the conversation, and Effie was glad of it. She turned her face against her father’s shoulder while he continued. “They’ve been Effie’s family for fifteen years. Some of them have accompanied us to Roscraig.”
Tommy nodded. “That’s fine, then. That’s just fine. They are welcome.” He looked down at Effie and stroked her hair. “But you see that portrait there over the hearth?”
Effie looked again at the trio of solemn faces presiding over the hall, a noble looking man and woman, with a young boy between them.
“Me young self. And Myra and Tenred Annesley. Your other grandparents. Tower Roscraig first belonged to them, and then to me, and now to your brother Tavish. But it is also your home. And so tonight, your family shall be welcomed as my own kin, for that is what we are. Tonight, we willcelebrate.”
Effie embraced her father again and felt for the first time that perhaps—just perhaps—their wild plan mightactually work.
Her eyes met Lucan’s over Tommy’s shoulder, and his handsome face was softened, his blue gaze intense as he watched her openly.
Not only might their plan work—they couldwin.
* * * *
They feasted that night, although the women they’d rescued from the road chose to take their meal with the servants in the kitchen. Harriet, in her typically kind fashion that Lucan so admired, had seen promise in a handful of the young women liberated from the slavers, and offered them employment at Roscraig. The others would journey on with the family to Gale and Mari at the White Swan to be setinto new lives.
Thomas seemed to take an instant liking to Gorman Littlebrook when he was introduced as the father of his grandson, and Lucan felt a surge of jealousy as the two men talked and exchanged stories throughout the meal. Each time Thomas laughed at Gorman’s down-to-earth humor, each time the bearded man spoke Effie’s name with a smile in the telling of a tale, each time he spoke of his son, Lucan’s guts twisted a little tighter, his spine got a little stiffer. He could barely smile at Bob’s juggling, managed only to clap politely at Gilboe and Dana’s pairing in a sweet ballad. Even the copious amount of wine Lucan put down did little to loosen the strain. He was one of the first to bid the company good-night, and venture through the main entryway to the West tower and the guest chamber Harriet had called to be prepared especially for him.
Lucan closed the door and leaned back against it for a moment with a sigh. He realized this was the same chamber into which Glenna Douglas had interred Harriet and Tavish and himself that first night at Roscraig, although the atmosphere inside was wildly changed. The fire crackled merrily, burnishing the tasteful fixtures in a warm, quiet glow. He wouldn’t haverecognized it.
Lucan’s own life was unrecognizable now.
He pushed away from the door and drew the satchel strap over his head, setting the burden on the table as he walked toward the chamber’s single, tall window. He ducked beneath the heavy drape covering the shutter and then pushed the barrier open to look out over the village.
He drew a deep breath of the cold air. Lights from several cottages twinkled in the night, a pair of doors stood open across the main track from one another—a sign of prosperity, if ever there was one in a village, that a dwelling was so well provided for in winter that the interior became too warm. Lucan took in the scene as his eyes adjusted to the night, noting the smooth village paths and tidy homes. The occasional contented bleat of an animal over the distant hush of the Firth was like gentle music flowing around the stones of Roscraig, and Lucan recognized that Tavish Cameron had created a place of peace and success for himself and his wife here. A safe place. A place they would raise up a family to prosper for generations.
What would Lucan’s future hold? All he could possibly lay claim to was a stretch of grazing land at the moment, and that was under conditions from the king. Besides Agrios, Lucan had nothing.
A dark shadow of movement on the main road caught Lucan’s eye, and he saw a man on horseback between the dry moat and the village, a hood raised against the chill wind blowing in from the Firth behind the hold. The man slowed his mount near the end of the bridge and seemed to look up at the tower, keeping the posture for several moments before turning the horse’s head away and disappearing into the village.
Turning away for home, happy and satisfied, Lucan fantasized. His day’s duties, whatever they may havebeen, complete.
Lucan realized he was becoming more maudlin by the moment and put it down to the wine he had overconsumed. He fastened the shutter tight and pushed through the drapes to re-enter the chamber, which now appeared too bright and cheery tohis night-eyes.
He removed his belt and gambeson, unlaced then pulled off his boots, then crawled into the comfortable bed, but sleep was yet far away. On the morrow, they would depart for London where Lucan would once more relinquish Thomas Annesley to the king.
His thoughts turned back to the weary man on the Tower road, returning so late to the village. And Lucan envied him his honest trade, fearing that his own duty would fall far short of the mark ofhis conscience.
* * * *
The morning came too soon after a night of fitful slumber. Thomas was in the great hall with Harriet Payne when Lucan entered, their hands clasped together on the tabletop, their facesleaned close.
