wife and child. “Ye didna tell me that the babe was a danger to her.”
John handed Galeren his drink and sipped some wine from his own cup. “She willna die. And I did tell her not to go.”
Galeren relented and nodded. God would care for her.
John took a seat in a dark wood chair with a hand-sewn cushion and cast Galeren a hard look. “Tell me, Galeren. It seems that ye and my niece grew close on yer short journey here. Is she fond of ye?”
“Most likely,” Galeren told him honestly. “I saved her from almost bein’ defiled.”
The steward’s eyes went dark. “Did ye kill him?”
“I did,” Galeren told him with satisfaction, causing him to smile.
“Good,” John said. “What else?”
“What are ye askin’ me?” Galeren sat up and put down his drink. He loved Scotland. He’d grown to care for John and his family, but that fondness was growing thin from years of watching John involve himself in shady dealings that always ended up with someone innocent dying. Galeren stayed for the king’s sake…and for the children.
He was loyal, putting personal feelings aside. But they hadn’t gone away. He cared for John’s family. He loved that the castle and village were under his control alongside the steward. Though Galeren was given authority, overall the steward had the final say in everything.
John didn’t care if Silene grew ill.
“I’m asking ye what else happened between ye while ye and my niece were travelin’.”
Was he jesting? Galeren wondered. He stared at the steward and let the storm go free just a little. “I will tell ye what we did, John. We stopped five, sometimes six times a day so she could pray alone—with me watchin’ her. We all slept and then did it all over again. Other intervals included her bein’ abducted by a group of ten men. We killed them all and got her back. We visited my kin along the border and her prayers strengthened my grandsire on his sickbed,” Galeren finished. He gave John a dark look. “Anythin’ else ye wish to know?”
The steward narrowed his gaze on his captain. “Dinna get so offended, Galeren. I must be certain Silene is pure and that nothin’ gets in the way of her good standin’ with the church.”
She was a pawn. A piece of a game John needed to win. Silene had been correct. Her uncle cared little for her.
Galeren stood up from his chair. “If ye will excuse me, John. I have many things to see to upon my return.”
He didn’t wait for the steward’s permission. Galeren did what he wanted at Dundonald. Everything but refuse to marry Cecilia Birchet. He was indebted to John for many things. The greatest thing being that John had saved his life on the battlefield three years ago when a man brought down his sword behind Galeren. Galeren would have lost his head and mayhap more if not for John’s blade getting in between them. John kept him on as David’s captain and his own after the king was arrested. John hadn’t minded when the people of Dundonald began their worshipful admiration of his captain. People followed Galeren and Galeren was loyal to John—therefore the people followed John.
What if the people discovered that their darling captain had kissed the fresh-faced novice?
He left the solar angry and ashamed. He stood outside the door for a moment and closed his eyes while he thought about what had just happened. Did John suspect something between him and Silene? Why wouldn’t he? Galeren believed what he felt for her was palpable, alive and charging the air. He believed Silene felt it, too. Could others see their attraction? Could his men? And they chose to say nothing?
He opened his eyes and marched toward Lady Matilda’s quarters. Silene had been taken there. He wanted to see her. He wanted to see Lizzie and her mother. He didn’t care about any damned fever.
When he reached the door, he knocked then entered when he was bid.
He should have warned Silene that wee Margaret wasn’t the only one who was possessive and protective of him and her husband.
His eyes searched and settled on Silene first, and then on Matilda.
“Captain!” Matilda shouted then rose up to be swept up in his embrace. “’Tis good to look upon yer face again.
He smiled, giving her a place among his dearest friends. “What is this I hear aboot a sickness?”
She nodded and pointed to the three-year-old child lying in her large bed. “Lizzie was stricken first. Now, seven