Chapter twenty-one #2
Alec looked to me and cocked his eyebrows just as the king released me and leaned upon the dais once more, while Alec asked me, “Is that right, lass?”
I opened my mouth to tell the king what a liar Alec was, but the truth would damn me. With a sinking heart, I pressed my lips together, my pulse pounding in the hollow of my throat, and nodded, knowing the lie damned me as much as the truth. I was trapped, neatly and completely.
The king studied me for a long moment. “Laird Armstrong will certainly nae be pleased that ye are alive,” the king said, as if I were supposed to understand why.
“Sire?”
“Ah, I forget ye have been away from yer family. Laird Armstrong is to wed yer sister and was to gain the stronghold, as she was thought to be the heir. The stronghold reverts to the control of the husband of the heir to it.” The king chuckled.
“He wanted that stronghold; many men do. Do ye ken why men covet that stronghold, lass?”
I shook my head. I had known years ago that my sister would inherit the stronghold and that Alec wanted it, but I had not known exactly why.
“Whoever holds Renfrewshire controls the valley of the Black Cart Water, and whoever controls that holds great power, indeed.” The king pointed to Alec. “Buchanan here was sore vexed when his wife died because the stronghold was passing out of his hands, but I imagine he’ll court ye now.”
Alec, at least, had the decency to flush with embarrassment. Still, if I’d had a dagger, I might have run it through his black heart.
“Actually, Sire,” Alec said in a tone that made my toes curl with dread, as if he were about to impart something I could not imagine liking.
“I was betrothed to Katreine before she disappeared, and the only reason the agreement between Laird Wallace and me was dissolved was her disappearance, which is how I came to wed her sister.”
My temper exploded at his lies, and my restraint snapped.
“Sire,” I blurted as the king turned toward the dais to take a sip from his goblet.
I stared at his back, desperation consuming me.
I would not be forced to wed this man I had never loved.
I’d had a young lass’s infatuation, and I had not even known his true character.
Had I seen how dishonorable he was, had I understood that I should want a man who wanted me, with or without a castle to give him, I would never have made that wish.
I had not truly known Alec, though I’d known him all my life.
I knew James better after less than a month with him.
Why, James had more honor in his big toe than Alec had in his entire body.
And James had risked himself over and over for me.
Aye, James had lied to me, but he had then told me the truth.
Suddenly, it was as if a veil were drawn back from my eyes.
I loved James. I loved him. I loved him, and Morgana was right: I had to tell him the truth about my curse and tell him I loved him.
I opened my mouth, unsure what I was about to say, but Alec spoke first.
“Mayhap,” he said, “I should bring one of her old servants to court to testify to who she is for ye, Sire.”
I jerked my gaze to his, and I could see the threat shining there, as clear as the moon on a cloudless night. I would comply, or he would expose me.
“That will nae be necessary, Buchanan. Ye are a trusted member of my council, and I take yer word. Take the lass to see my daughter,” the king said, finally turning back to us.
My heart was racing. If I spoke, I might be damned, and if I did nae, I might be as well.
Before I could decide what to do, the king turned to the dais once more and motioned for his goblet again.
As this happened, Alec took me by the arm, leaned in, planted a kiss on my cheek, and whispered, “I keep yer secret if ye do as I say, witch.”
If I’d had any doubts that he knew of my curse, his words dispelled them. I could only imagine sweet, oblivious Millisandre telling him about me one night in their bed.
“Sire,” Alec said, “If it pleases, Katreine, I’d like to renew our betrothal. I always had a fondness for her and was certain she would become a beauty, and she has.”
The king turned back to us, chuckling and gripping his goblet of wine. “I imagine her being heir to the stronghold helps with yer interest, but aye, I grant a betrothal between ye if she wishes it.” He then looked at me. “Do ye wish it, lass?”
Alec squeezed my elbow so hard it shot streaks of pain up my arm.
I had no choice but to nod. My thoughts tumbled one after the other, searching for a ray of hope, and I came to James.
I had to believe in him. I had to somehow slip him a missive to meet me in secret so I could tell him the truth, and I had to believe he would aid me in finding a solution or in escaping.
“Then it’s settled,” the king decreed, making my stomach clench. “She’s yer charge now, but she can nae leave with ye until my Mary is healed.”
“Aye, Sire,” Alec said, like the silver-tongued fox he was.
“Take her to examine my daughter,” the king commanded, then added, “Now, James, tell me how the best tracker in the land failed me. Come forward at once.”
Alec tugged me toward the door, and as I passed James, I caught his gaze and hoped he could read in my expression that I needed him, wanted him, loved him, and, above all, that he’d meet me and give me a chance to set my foolish choices right and find a way to regain a life of aging and love.