Highland Warlord - Amy Jarecki Page 0,17
grim nod, James stepped forward and pointed to the wooden shield hanging above the mantel. “I see you display the seal of the lion rampant emblazoned on your targe.”
“Aye, given to my da by Wallace himself.”
“And you’ve heard they’ve crowned Robert Bruce as king?”
The man gave a curt nod. “I have.”
James took in a deep breath and ran his fingers down his beard. “I attended the coronation and received my spurs that very night.”
The man’s gaze narrowed. “You side with the Bruce?”
“I’ve a letter in my possession commanding me to establish a borderland army bearing his seal.”
Ailish squeezed her fists so tightly, her nails bit into her flesh. What was Sir James doing? These men could not be trusted.
“Aye, and where do you aim to hide these men with a multitude of English spies mulling about?”
“Ye ken Wallace.” James smirked as if he were comfortable with the guards encircling them, ready to chop of their heads with their axes. “The Bruce aims to start where the great warrior left off.”
“Selkirk,” said the man. “And who might you be?”
“Sir James Douglas, Lord of Douglas.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Le Hardi’s son?”
Ailish held her breath. Sir James’ da had lost Berwick, and many Scots held him accountable for the carnage.
But the knight continued to act as if they were merely having a passing conversation rather than about to be run through. “Aye.”
The elder’s face split into an enormous grin. “Well why did ye not say so in the first place?”
“No one gave us the courtesy of asking.” Sir James threw a thumb over his shoulder. “This ragged lot behind me has forgotten their manners. They did not even grant me the civility of giving me your name.”
“Erloch Cunningham, chieftain of these lands, and the guard holding a battleax at your throat is my eldest son, Torquil.” He walked around the table and clapped James’ shoulder. “Welcome to Duncryne, friend.”
As Torquil’s axe lowered, Ailish exchanged a relieved glance with Coira.
“My thanks,” James mumbled rather unconvincingly as he rubbed his neck. “But seeing as we’ve been waylaid by your hospitality, I reckon we’ll be needing lodgings for the night—and I’ll be taking back my sword and dirk.”
Ailish gave him a nudge. These men mightn’t have robbed them on the trail, but she had no doubt if they were on the wrong side of the war, the blackguards would have skewered James and ravished her and Coira or worse. “Perhaps if we left now, we’d make it to Dunbarton before nightfall.”
“Och, ’tis dusk already,” said Torquil, pointing to the balcony above where absolutely no light shone through an archer’s crosslet loop, blast it all.
“The sisters will require privacy, of course,” James added as one of the men returned his weapons.
Erloch shrugged. “They can use Torquil’s chamber for the night.”
The young man eyed Ailish like he had been doing since they blocked their path in the forest. “Och, I’d rather have the bonny one in me bed for the eve.”
James pulled her behind him. “I beg—"
“Stand down, Son. It will not hurt ye to sleep in the hall for a night.” Erloch sliced his hand like he was chopping wood. “Can you not see she’s a holy woman? These are our guests, and I expect you to treat them as such, else we’ll have a reckoning.”
“I’ll have a bloody reckoning,” James mumbled into Ailish’s ear.
Coira, looped her arm through her lady’s elbow. “If it would not trouble ye overmuch, might we be able to venture above stairs now to refresh ourselves afore the evening meal?”
“Aye, and Torquil will show you the way.”
Ailish squeezed Coira’s arm tightly and fingered the dagger inside her sleeve. His father may have offered hospitality, but she didn’t trust the son in the slightest.
And to prove her point, he smiled like a lecherous cur. “This way, Sisters.”
“Leave the axe,” said James, stepping aside and giving Ailish a nod. “I’ll see you anon.”
She inclined her head toward the stairs. “Do you not want to ken where we’ll be staying, sir?”
“Och, you can climb a few stairs without your guardian,” Torquil growled over his shoulder.
“Come along,” said Coira as if she were readying herself for battle.
***
Erloch gestured to the benches at the long table. “Sit and rest your weary bones.” He clapped his hands. “Bring us some ale.”
James climbed over a bench, ever so happy to see Torquil return directly. He’d been of two minds in letting the young man take the ladies above stairs, but he would have broken the laws of hospitality had