Page 85 of Rebellion's Fire

It seemed a safe enough subject. “For the moment. Apart, they’re less likely to conspire to cause us trouble. For one thing. For another, they’re mercenaries, and no one now is paying them to die. They have to decide what they want to do. What do you think of them?”

Surprise widened her eyes. He wanted to take off the mask to receive the full effect. She said, “They’re good soldiers. William only ever employed good soldiers.”

“Would you want them to stay?”

This time her lips parted, too. Adam shifted in his chair.

“In what capacity?” she asked.

He shrugged. “We can give them land. They can farm it or remain soldiers without any other pay. Ross can always use good fighters.”

She closed her lips. He watched their changing expressions with fascination. “You would turn them from the King of Scots?”

“They’re mercenaries,” he said. “They were never ‘for’ the King of Scots except insofar as Sir William was.”

As if becoming aware of the direction of his gaze, she flushed, adding delicious color to her pale beauty. He wanted to make her whole body flush.

She said in a rush. “Henry might stay. He’s a good man.”

“Put it to him, if you like. Ask them all to think about it. If they’re interested, they can speak to me. But those who want to leave will have to wait. No one can go south just yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because no one there knows that Sir William de Lanson no longer holds Tirebeck.”

She stared at him. “You’re relying on silence to hold off the king’s army?”

“For long enough.”

“Long enough for what?”

“My father’s release.”

“Have you ever thought beyond that unlikely eventuality?” she demanded.

“Of course.” He could see she didn’t believe it would ever happen. He didn’t blame her. Kings had come and gone, an entire generation, his own and hers, had grown up while Malcolm mac Aed languished in prison. It had become a background to life, like the sky or the sea. But no one had ever forgotten him. From Orkney to Cumbria, everyone was aware of the prisoner of Roxburgh.

She seemed about to say something, but just then the hall door flew open and Cailean mac Gilleon strode in. The men raised a mocking cheer. “Well done, lad! You missed the best battle since the Isles!”

Cailean, clearly, was furious that things had moved on so quickly without him, but the men’s good-natured raillery forced him to smile, however reluctantly, and he remembered his manners well enough to approach the high table and bow to Cairistiona.

“Lady, I rejoice to see you home and well,” he managed before turning to Adam with recrimination clear in his face, in his whole stance.

Adam forestalled him. “Our friend went quietly?”

Cailean closed his mouth and swallowed. “Like a lamb in the end. We caught up with the men of Galloway, who’re all well away from Ross now.”

“You did the harder job,” Adam said. “And you must have ridden like a demon. Sit and eat.”

“I have a message from the lady your mother,” Cailean said awkwardly. “She bade me tell you and the lady Cairistiona that she will come tomorrow with priests.”

Adam didn’t look at Cairistiona. He didn’t need to. Whatever fragile armistice had sprung up between them was broken by Cailean’s words. She felt rigid and brittle at his side, like some delicate glass that would shatter if you touched it. Which was a problem, in the circumstances.

Not long after, she rose abruptly and said good night as if she didn’t expect to be attended to. Adam, aware since her first movement, stood with her. He wanted to take her hand and kiss it, give her some kind of reassurance or simple affection. But he didn’t want the glass to break. This was too public. Instead, he managed to bow, or at least nod his head with respect.

Since it was easier than looking at her, he glanced toward her attendants, who sat together as they had before. Two of them were already on their feet. The third, Lanson’s mistress, was staring morosely into her cup until one of the other women seized her by the arm and tugged.

The woman shook herself free, scowling, but at least she rose and trailed after the others. It must have hurt to see Cairistiona enter the chamber she’d regarded as her own, but Adam spared her no sympathy.

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