The Betrayal - By Ruth Langan Page 0,8
world.”
Wilona found herself smiling at the easy camaraderie that seemed to have developed between these three young people. “We feel privileged with our gifts and our dwelling place. Perhaps you would consent to stay awhile, so that you can see all that our kingdom has to offer.”
He sighed. “If only I could. But I came here seeking the name of a traitor.” He stared down into his goblet, as though searching for truth in the depths of his wine. “I have been betrayed by someone close to me. Someone who will do whatever it takes to defeat and disgrace me. Someone who has no regard for the pain being inflicted on innocent people.” He looked up and met the old woman’s eyes. “You asked earlier if I would use that knowledge for revenge. And I ask you. Could I knowingly permit such a person to continue to harm my people? Vengeance may not be mine to take, but I will not look the other way if I can put a stop to it.”
Wilona glanced around the table. “Most men seek wealth or power. Do you not covet such things, my lord?”
Grant shrugged. “I share my wealth with my people. In good times and bad, whatever is mine is theirs.”
“A noble deed, but one expected of a lord. And does not your title laird of the MacCallum clan imply power?”
He smiled. “The one chosen lord must be willing to fight to the death to keep his people free. I’ve given my word that I will do all in my power to honor that pledge. But that is the only power I seek, or shall ever desire. I have no wish to wield my power over others.”
Wilona found herself warming to this young warrior. There was a dignity and honor about him that touched her heart. “Tell me. This truth you seek. What if learning it should bring you even greater heartache?”
“Why should it?”
“You could learn that you are being betrayed by one near and dear to you.”
He frowned, considering the possibility. “I come seeking the truth. If that knowledge brings pain, so be it. I will have to be strong enough to bear it.”
Wilona smiled. “So what you’re really requesting is wisdom and insight along with truth. Do you agree?”
He returned her smile. “Call it what you will, my lady.” He got to his feet and bowed to the others. “By your leave I go now to see to my steed. I must return to my people on the morrow.”
“So soon?” Kylia clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized that everyone had turned to look at her.
Grant gave her a gentle smile. “My lady, my people have been without my protection long enough.” He walked from the cottage.
Almost at once Kylia excused herself and slipped away to the privacy of her room. Minutes later Gwenellen followed.
Seeing the way Nola was staring at the closed door, Wilona drew an arm around her.
“You see?” Nola looked into her mother’s eyes. “It’s as I feared. Already Kylia is mourning the loss of this stranger.”
“It’s only natural.” The older woman ran a hand down her daughter’s hair. “We’ve had so few visitors to our kingdom. You can’t blame Kylia for wanting this young lord to stay.”
“Nay. I can’t.” Nola stared at the floor. “But our loneliness and isolation will seem all the more when he is gone and Kylia finds herself alone with only Gwenellen for company.”
Wilona sighed and patted her daughter’s hand. “What will be will be. We’ll face the morrow when it comes.”
Nola walked to the window of the cottage and watched the silhouette of the man tending his horse by moonlight. In her heart of hearts she knew the morrow would come far too soon to suit her.
The sky was barely streaked with fingers of dawn before the members of the household were awake and seeing to their morning chores.
Jeremy added fresh wood to the fire, while Wilona lifted perfectly baked scones and Bessie stirred a bowl of still-warm fruit preserves. Nola put the finishing touches on a gown of soft cream wool that she’d been stitching for Gwenellen. The two sisters returned to the cottage, giggling over secrets and carrying a basket of eggs between them.
Grant paused in the doorway of the cottage and felt the quick tug at his heart when he caught sight of Kylia. She was unlike any maiden he’d ever known. There was a shyness, a sweetness about her that set her apart from the