Chapter 28 #2
“I cannot understand? That is what you men say when you do something we women know is harebrained.
Do not tell me I cannot understand. My husband was the king's own diplomat. You think we did not speak of things? You think he did not value my thoughts? My opinions? You are a fool, brother. And I understand all too clearly that you have no excuse for what you have done.”
“Dunkeldon—“
“Curse Dunkeldon! Curse it to hell and back! Curse it to the hell it has taken you to, Lyall Robertson. We walked away all those years ago and still you cannot leave it behind you. You are my brother and I love you, but you have made a grave mistake, out of guilt you should not feel, for events out of your control, and the foolhardy idea that Dunkeldon is more than just a burnt old ruin--one that has ruined you! It has.” She looked away from his and shook her head in disgust and frustration.
When she looked up again, she placed a hand on his arm.
“Do you not see? This is not a mere sport, some lark.
‘Tis not a mistaken marriage, the lure of bonding yourself to the man who held our father's lands or a marriage to some poor lass far from willing. Dunkeldon has driven you too far this time. It has driven you toward treason. You gave the king’s daughter to his enemies. You could lose your knighthood. Your name could be listed, Lyall. You could be imprisoned, or hanged.” There were tears in her voice when she said, “Did you learn nothing from what happened to our father?”
“How could I forget? I bear his name…you do not. You married Robert. Mother wed Ramsey. I--” he tapped his chest angrily, “I alone carry his name, and his shame.”
“Mama! Mama!” The boys came running in.
“You lads be quiet. What are you doing here? Oh, where is their nurse?” Mairi ran toward the chamber door and called to their maid.
The nephews spotted him and shouted his name louder than Norman tourney caller, and suddenly he had boys all over him.
“Mama? Is that the great lady?” The child’s voice came from far away.
Where am I? Glenna’s head was foggy.
“Aye, Duncan.” The woman who answered did so kindly, her tone soft and lilting.
“What is the great lady’s name?”
“Lady Glenna.”
“Why is she on the bed?” Another child asked, his voice higher and with a slight lisp of a child still learning to sound out his words.
“She’s dead, Gregor!” Yet another piped in with a wicked, teasing tone, before he lowered his voice ominously and said, “She was poisoned by the vile, dark witch who lives in the forest and eats foolish lads with red hair and spots after she boils them in oil.”
“No witches are in the forest. You lie!” But poor Gregor’s voice sounded doubtful and as if he were going to cry.
“Why won’t she wake up?” Duncan asked
“She will.”
Lyall?
A small finger slid open her eyelid, and startled, she was suddenly staring a small lad with bright red hair and no front teeth. “Hallo.” His freckled face squinted at her and he removed his finger from her eyelid. “Are you dead, my lady?”
Glenna opened both her eyes.
“Mama! She’s awake,” he shouted. “The Lady Glenna, is awake!”
“Glenna!” Lyall was suddenly kneeling by the bed, her hand in his.
His face was covered in road dust, caked along his lips and jaw, and his hair was stuck to his head from his helm.
But there he was, so close, looking contrite and overly concerned, his brow furrowed and his eyes red with road dust and moisture.
Was this the same man who shoved her away last night, who ignored her all day?
He reached out to lovingly take the cloth from her brow and her hand shot up and gripped his wrist hard. He looked at her hand and frowned.
She took the wet towel and whacked him with it.
“Oh! Did you see, Mama? She hit Uncle Lyall!” The oldest lad was pointing at her and jumping up and down.
“She will not have sweets for a whole day,” Duncan said seriously.
The children’s nurse came into the room, looking harried and out of sorts. “I’m sorry, milady. They escaped. Come along, lads. You were not supposed to leave the kitchens. “ The woman shooed them toward the door. “Now be off with you. Hurry.”
The children’s voices waned as they ran down the hallway, and room was suddenly silent. Lyall looked at Glenna and said, “What was that for?”
“I shall tell you. Gladly. I wake to you kneeling by my side? This is far cry from the tail end of the contingent, is it not? All day you avoided me.” She lowered her voice and said, “I hope you ate enough dust to choke on. Now suddenly you choose to be near my side and all concerned?” She gave a sharp laugh. “You are a horse’s ass, Lyall.”
“You make no sense woman. You do not get angry…you do not hold me accountable when I turned you over to your father’s enemies, when you are locked in a tower--”
“She was locked in a tower?” The young woman standing behind him interrupted, only a voice behind Lyall’s big, broad-shouldered body.
Glenna tried to lean enough to see her but could not.
“Aye,” Lyall said quickly, “which did not affect you, apparently. Yet here you glare at me and beat me with a towel for not riding by your side?”
“Nay…” Glenna sat up on an elbow and spat, “For last night!” She flogged him with the towel twice more, but the third time he grabbed it mid-air and jerked it from her hand.
“Perhaps that is why I chose to ride in the rear position…my lady,” he said sardonically and stood up, calmly dropping the towel in the laver by the bed.
“Coward,” she said with barely controlled contempt.
“Exactly.” Lyall gave her a forced and icy smile that held no humor. “I have never claimed to be anything but.” And with that, he bowed stiffly and strode from the room.