Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
King Malcolm III sat in an arbor with a red-haired woman clutched closely to his side. Their heads were bent together as the king talked on and on, gesturing wildly with his free hand. Tearloch watched from a short distance as a man went to announce his presence.
Malcolm pulled himself away from the girl and rushed to meet his freshly bathed comrade. His face was alight with excitement and relief.
“Tearloch. These have been the longest days of my life, waiting on you.”
“Forgive me, yer Majesty.” Tearloch bowed, and reluctantly straightened, knowing what would come next.
Malcolm frowned when he saw the feebly hidden scowl on his face, and said, “Are ye just a nervous bridegroom, or do ye have news?”
“Neither, yer Majesty. I am content to marry, and I am eager to meet your Kenna. But I beg of ye to let both duties wait for a while.”
“Nonsense. I am through with waiting, my friend. Ye will marry in four days’ time, I have already announced it.” Malcolm acted as though it was now out of his hands, so there was no sense discussing it. “Now, allow me to introduce my sister.”
Tearloch set aside his complaints and followed his king across the patio, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Did women feel the same when they were about to swoon?
The girl stood at their approach. Tearloch’s heart slowed immediately.
It wasn’t because he was relieved that the girl was as pretty, as the king had claimed, for she was beautiful.
His heart slowed from a sudden lack of interest. At the thought of meeting this Kenna, he dreaded feeling some attraction, worried he might betray the woman he loved. But there was none.
An odd reason to be relieved, but relieved he was. Enough to offer a genuine smile.
“Sister, this is my Champion, and soon to be yours, Tearloch MacPherson.”
“Pleased to meet ye, Lady Kenna.” Tearloch noted she had little interest in him as well, as she turned her attention immediately back to the king.
He thanked the heavens that this had not been the woman standing at Gowry’s window.
He would have had an easier road home, to be sure, but how dull his life would have been for the past fortnight.
There was no fire in her eyes, no silent communication. The sudden urge to go home was powerful.
That night, at banquet, Tearloch sat beside his betrothed.
He made little conversation, as did she.
For the both of them, it became the same business arrangement as most weddings were.
There were no pressing alliances necessary, just a king to please.
A few times, Tearloch glanced at her to judge the size of her hips and almost found hope in the fact that they were small.
But wishing the girl an early death was beneath him, and he forced such uncharitable thoughts away.
More than once, he felt her assessing gaze on him throughout the meal but chose not to face her. Could they possibly go through life together without truly looking at each other?
The meal done, Tearloch leaned toward the woman and kissed her on the cheek. He may as well have been kissing a horse for all he felt, and he suspected she sensed the same.
That night, Tearloch slept well enough…because he dreamed of his Kenna.
“Are you mad? Tearloch, as your king, I command you to marry her. I have already announced it—to the world!”
“Ye should not have betrothed us before our meeting. If our places were reversed, I would not have done the same to ye.” Tearloch sat comfortably on the king’s bed as the other man paced around the room.
There was no formality between them when alone.
They were as close as true brothers, not just sword-brothers, and the king often needed the honest advice of someone he trusted completely.
“You know that is not true. It was an honor to promise her to you, and you ken it. It was done hastily, I admit, but how else was I to thank you for all you have done, while at the same time put the lass into safe hands?” The king stopped in his tracks with a sudden idea.
“Bed her. Bed her right now so you can see that you will suit. I give ye permission.”
“Malcolm Canmore, get a hold of yerself. Ye cannae go orderin’ people to bed one another. I’ll not do it. And she is yer sister. Have ye no shame?”
“You refuse to bed a woman you have a right to. Are you feelin’ well?” Malcolm studied his friend with a tilted head and a contorted face, earning a laugh.
“I love the other one,” he confessed. “The woman I believed was your Kenna. I will not take another to wife.” Tearloch tried not to sound cheerful as he refused his king. “You will love her too. You will see.”
“Oh? Just how much would I like her?”
“Oh, nay! Keep yer ring-encrusted hands to yerself. She is mine!”
“Oh, but you are about to wed another. I think this mystery lass best be scrutinized before I make my choice for a wife.”
“Ye would not want her, Malcolm. She has already shared my bed.” Tearloch was turning red, but with anger. He knew his friend was teasing, but like a hungry fish that knows better, he could not keep from rising to the bait.
“You bedded her?”
He should admit the truth, but in the moment, he worried he would lose her. “Aye, I have.”
“And when did ye take her?” Malcolm was getting red now, only due to his lighter complexion, his flush was more evident.
“The first time?”
“Aye, the first time.”
“Weel, ye see, she was a bit hard to handle on our way home. And Duncan suggested that mayhap if I bed her, it might produce feelings for me and she might want to behave.” Tearloch studied his hands as he listened to the inanity of what he was saying.
Malcolm lowered his voice to his most menacing.
“Duncan suggested…and ye took her on yer way home, believing she was my sister, ye took her by the side of the road.” He was incensed, but Tearloch didn’t know if it was because he had bedded a woman he had not the king’s permission to bed, or if the king were angry that he hadn’t had first chance at her.
“It was not by the side of the road.” Tearloch straightened to his full height, matching intimidation for intimidation. “And I willnae claim to regret it.”
As usual, Malcolm backed down and dropped the menace.
“I can see that ye do not.” He paced around the room once more.
“I have decided that ye will marry yer betrothed, as planned. And I will hold off my own choice until I have met this woman.” Malcolm ignored the emphatic shaking of Tearloch's head and continued. “Where is she now?”
“Who?” asked Tearloch icily.
“The woman ye thought was my Kenna.”
“What woman?” Tearloch stood defiantly with his arms crossed.
Malcolm walked out the door for a moment and came back in to stand opposite Tearloch, who expected more than a few of the king’s guard to come haul him away. When the door opened, however, it was Jamie.
“Jamie, where is the woman whom ye all thought was my sister?”
Jamie glanced nervously at Tearloch, completely missed the warning in his eyes, then nodded to the king. “In the dungeon at Lochahearn, yer Majesty.”