Page 71 of Rebellion's Fire

Christian said coldly, “He killed my bodyguards and took me from my people.”

“He took you from your vile husband,” Gormflaith snapped. “And gave you a home you’d otherwise have had to fight for. And have lost. I didn’t understand it then, and I still don’t.” She tossed the comb on the bed and stalked out of the room.

Christian didn’t have long to enjoy her solitude. She was brushing the tangles from her hair and wondering the best way to achieve her departure when she had another visitor—the Lady of Ross herself.

Halla was hardly the bandit queen or the evil witch of court gossip. In fact, Christian knew instinctively that any salvation lay in this apparently gentle woman of implacable authority. If anyone could rule her son, she did. And Christian was sure that, for whatever reason, the lady wasn’t happy about her presence here.

“We must think of the best way to inform your people,” the lady said, once the civilities were past. “Without mine being killed.”

“I would only trouble you for the loan of a horse, and a guide in the right direction,” Christian said. “I will carry my own news.”

The lady sat on the chest as Gormflaith had. “My dear,” she said, gently. “Have you considered how this will appear to your husband?”

“As I’m sure you know, I came to Ross in disgrace. Yet another can make little difference either to him or to me.”

Halla spelled it out. “Since coming to Ross, you have spent two nights outside your husband’s protection. Both have been with my son.”

“I chose neither. As my husband is aware.”

Halla gave a slightly crooked little smile. It wasn’t unsympathetic. “My dear. When did our choices ever enter men’s heads? We just pay the price for theirs.”

As she still paid the price for her husband’s rebellion, which she was obliged to continue for her sons? Oh no, it wasn’t quite like that. The Lady of Ross was a force in her own right, and one to be reckoned with.

“I am not quite such a poor creature as you think me,” Christian said.

Halla’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t think you poor at all. Before I ever met you, my son’s actions told me all I needed to know.Mostof what I needed to know. Your care of him and Cailean mac Gilleon when they were captured told me the rest.” She held Christian’s carefully expressionless gaze. “We are not enemies, Cairistiona.”

This was what she’d always intended. To build bridges, come to some kind of accommodation with the MacHeths that did not involve renouncing the King of Scots. The king had made that difficult by offering the earldom of Ross to William if he could subdue it. But if she could acquire more land to satisfy William’s ambition for the price of peace… Would that not be the best she could do?

“I do not wish us to be enemies,” Christian said honestly. “But my husband and your sons make it an unlikely friendship.”

“Adam is…difficult. But he has always looked out for you.”

Christian felt a flush rise to her face, hoped the lady didn’t notice. “Why?” she said evenly.

Halla stood. “Because he always does what is right in his own eyes.”

“Right for the MacHeths,” Christian said gently.

“In Ross,” the lady returned, “it amounts to the same thing. Come, let us go into the hall together. You are, of course, our guest of honor.”

Chapter Eighteen

The Lady ofRoss kept a large and gracious hall. Elegant decorations were carved into the walls and into the high backs of the chairs. A beautiful, ornately carved harp that Christian hadn’t noticed before stood to one side of the high table. The household itself was much larger than that of Tirebeck. People of all walks of life sat down together, including many men-at-arms, who must have included the lady’s own guard as well as some of Adam’s men. And there were several more servants bustling around with washing bowls and towels, food, and wine.

But for so grand a hall, there was surprisingly little ceremony.

There was a horrible moment when she first sat between the lady and Donald—who’d arrived home just in time for dinner—when someone shouted out, “Lady Cairistiona! I knew you’d come back to us!”

And through the burst of laughter around the hall, she realized that this meal would be like all others she’d known since her marriage, merely the form of abuse would be different.

So, she did what she did at home: forced a faint smile onto her lips and pretended not to hear. The man who’d spoken, however, remained standing, grinning directly at her in what looked like a friendly manner.Findlaech, she thought.I remember him.

“You’re well?” he asked so unexpectedly that she almost forgot to answer.

A slightly wild glance around the hall told her that everyone was looking at her and waiting for an answer, even the Lady of Ross beside her.

“Quite well, thank you,” she managed. “As, I trust, are you.”

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