Page 21 of A Constant Blaze

The king said, “Then in return, I will undertake to release your son Donald after one year of peace, at which time you and I will sign a formal agreement, and I will reinvest you with your old title of Earl of Ross.”

Yes.They’d taken her advice after all.

But Malcolm MacHeth was still an unknown quantity in the plan. His gaze flew to the king, then after a moment to Christian, who gazed back, trying to will his agreement. Again, the smile flickered before he returned his attention to the king.

“A year is not so unreasonable for a young man. If you promise him the same conditions with which I was treated.”

The king inclined his head.

“Then we are in accord,” Malcolm MacHeth said with such obvious reluctance that Christian was sure the king would bridle.

However, something more must have passed between the boy king and the rebel who shared his name, for a slightly crooked smile curved the king’s lips.

“You will have to kneel to me, then,” he said with a complete lapse from formality.

“I know,” Malcolm MacHeth said.

“Then go in freedom,” the Earl of Strathearn said hastily.

Christian stepped forward, offering her hand to her father-in-law, who took it in his. Still, his eyes revealed nothing of his thoughts.

“I appear to have the sweetest of escorts,” he observed.

She could barely speak. “Henry,” she managed, and Henry led forward a horse.

Malcolm dropped her hand and picked up his chest.

“We have a couple of packhorses,” Henry said, and while they arranged the bestowal of the chest, Christian went to the king and curtseyed low.

“It’s working,” the king murmured, raising her.

“I know,” she murmured back. “Your Grace struck just the right notes. This must be what the world sees, all the worldeversees, so your authority remains paramount. I am Your Grace’s servant in Ross.”

The king looked slightly puzzled, although she prayed he would remember her words later. They would all, God willing, see the sense in them. The king could not be allowed to look foolish after his apparently masterful agreement with Malcolm MacHeth.

Christian was conducted by Henry to her own horse. Malcolm MacHeth was already mounted. Henry led the way, with Malcolm MacHeth and Christian falling into the middle line behind them. She didn’t even look to see where Donald had placed himself.

In formation, they rode sedately over the drawbridge from Roxburgh Castle.

All the castle servants and soldiers had come out to wave them off, and townspeople lined the road ahead, gazing with avid curiosity at the celebrated prisoner who’d lived so close to them, unseen for more than twenty years. Spontaneous cheers began to erupt and rang in Christian’s ears as they set the horses’ noses north and broke into a gallop.

Chapter Six

Malcolm MacHeth couldn’tspeak for the massive constriction in his throat. He was afraid he would weep. The horse under him thundered along the road, carrying him away from Roxburgh, away from captivity. Sun and wind battered his face and body.

Just like that, after more than two decades, he was free. Even more stunning, he rode side by side with his son. The small child he’d left in Ross had become a tall, strong man, and Malcolm’s heart almost burst with pride, with joy, with sheer euphoria.

But he still couldn’t speak.

When they could no longer see the castle, they slowed to a walk and then halted in tacit agreement, and the soldiers unstrapped Malcolm’s chest from the packhorse. Malcolm dismounted and strode forward to open it.

“Mairead?” he said anxiously into the chest. “Are you well?”

“Ecstatic,” came Mairead’s acid voice. “Every bone in my body is shattered. Could you not have traveled at a sedate walk?”

“We couldn’t stop in sight of the castle, and we were afraid you’d run out of air.” Malcolm bent, hand outstretched, and Mairead, tall and slender in Donald’s clothing, rose up and stepped out of the chest, stretching her neck and then each limb one at a time.

Then she gazed around her companions until she found Christian, his daughter-in-law who had not betrayed them. So far. But then, she was Rhuadri of Tirebeck’s child, which perhaps explained the mask she wore over one side of her rather beautiful face. There had been an accident, he remembered, involving Rhuadri’s child. And now she was Adam’s lady. An enigma.

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