Page 28 of How a Scot Surrenders to a Lady

When Serene frowned, the woman’s mouth pressed into a grim line. “Rory Mac is the warrior who was gravely injured in the attack that killed the king’s mistress.”

“Oh!” Serene gasped. “How does he fare?”

“His fever has broken,” Alanna said, her tone anything but friendly.

Serene got the feeling Alanna blamed her for Rory Mac’s injuries. “I’m glad to hear his fever broke,” she said, choosing her words with care. “I hope he makes a swift recovery. I wish I could remember the attack so that I could help find who ambushed yer husband and the others.”

Alanna raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Just because ye dunnae have a memory of doing evil, dunnae mean ye did nae do it.” The woman stood. “I’ll nae break my fast beside ye.”

Serene clenched her teeth for a moment. Anger coursed through her, but understanding did, too. “That’s yer choice,” she said quietly. “Though I hope to prove to ye and everyone else that I’m a good person.”

Alanna pursed her lips, and then she let out a rattling sigh. “I hope ye prove that, as well.”

Her departure and the words she’d spoken left the table in absolute silence. Marsaili quietly stood next, causing Serene’s breath to catch. Were they all going to leave the table one by one? How humiliating that would be!

Much to her surprise, Marsaili moved to the empty space Alanna had left on her departure. Marsaili turned to her. “I ken well how it feels to be an outcast here. I dunnae believe ye would have bothered to try to aid Cameron last night, if ye were a willing partner in the attack against Katherine.”

“I dunnae believe so, either,” said the large warrior Cameron had assigned as her guard. The man swiped a hunk of bread through the thick sauce on his plate, wiped his hands on his plaid, and grinned at her as he leaned his elbows on the table. “I’m Broch, and it will be my pleasure to keep watch over ye.” With those surprising words, he winked at her.

An older gentleman with red hair and nubs for ears leaned around Broch to look at her. He eyed her for a long moment before thumping Broch on the head. “Dunnae let lust for a beautiful lass rule ye. Ye see that Cameron dunnae lose his good judgment simply because the lass is bonny. She may have tried to aid him,” the man said, directing his steely gaze at Marsaili, “but let none of us forget she dunnae remember who she is. When she does…” His eyes narrowed.

Heat singed Serene’s cheeks, and she opened her mouth to defend herself, though she did not have much of a defense since she did not recall the truth. Before she could speak, Marsaili slammed her hand on the table, rattling the trenchers. “Ye are a grumpy old man, Neil,” she bit out. “Ye have decided she’s guilty of the worst without any proof.”

“I’m nae the only one,” the man named Neil sputtered. “Clearly Cameron has decided so, as well, and Alanna. I am certain everyone in this room is wary of her but ye, Broch, and Marion. We all ken Marion is too nice and too trusting, and as for Broch…” He waved a hand at the warrior. “We all ken his brain is nae leading him in this.”

The heat in Serene’s cheeks spread down her neck and to her chest.

Grunts of agreement sounded from all around the table, and Neil said, “Broch turns into a clot-heid whenever a bonny lass smiles at him.”

“Aye,” everyone at the table besides Marsaili said.

“Ye’re the clot-heid, Neil!” Marsaili said with such force that people from the nearby tables turned to look at them.

Desperate to quiet the rising argument, Serene said in a low but firm voice, “If I am guilty of conspiring to kill the king’s mistress, I will willingly give my life.”

“Ye’ll be giving something anyway,” someone to her left snarled.

She turned to ask them what they meant and blinked in surprise at the sight of Cameron standing there. Fury was etched into his features and burned in his eyes. He jerked the younger man out of his seat and yanked him forward until their faces were a hairsbreadth apart.

“Keep yer filthy mouth shut, Cormac,” Cameron growled.

The man scowled. “We all ken what the king has planned for her. Why do ye defend this woman who may well have murdered our king’s mistress?” His words were like thunder, reverberating around the now-silent great hall.

Serene wished she could disappear, but she forced herself to sit tall.

“I find I’ve the same question as young Cormac,” a deep voice said from the direction of the dais.

Serene turned to find a man standing. His brown hair and beard were both impeccably kept. He wore a long, ruby-red cloak trimmed in gold; the material was thick and obviously rich. He was tall and of lean build, and he had a long, patrician nose and prominent cheekbones.

“Dunnae ye have an answer for yer king?” he asked in a quiet, yet powerful voice that managed to send chills racing down Serene’s back. “If ye dunnae, perchance I should rid us all this very hour of this woman who trouble seems to haunt.”

Terror clawed at Serene, but she forced herself to sit perfectly still, except her gaze, which she cast furtively at Cameron, who shoved the man he’d been gripping back into his seat. Cameron did not look the least concerned with the king’s question. In truth, the expression on his face almost bordered on anger. But it seemed to disappear before her very eyes, as if he had slid a magic shield in place that was to leave whoever was staring at him baffled and confused.

“Because, Yer Grace,” he said in an easy, casual tone, “Serene recalled a new memory that further points to her innocence. I simply have nae yet had a private moment to share it with ye nor Iain.”

Shock bolted through her at his lie. She barely managed to keep her lips together, but as his gaze settled on her, his shields dropped down, and in the depths of his mesmerizing eyes, a warning dwelled. He was warning her to stay silent! Her heart thudded heavily as she tilted her head ever so slightly.

Footsteps resounded in the silent hall, and without turning to see who approached, Serene knew it to be the king. He appeared beside Cameron. The king was a bit shorter and his build not near as commanding; nevertheless, he had a presence about him that commanded attention.

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