Highland Warlord - Amy Jarecki Page 0,85
hell had he told Harris to speak his bloody mind? “Enough.”
“And you pair seem to be agreeable.”
James grabbed his weapon and sliced it through the air making a hiss. “I do not need a lad of ten telling me whom I should marry.”
His wee Lordship stood and examined his work. “I think your mail shines like never before,” he said as if he hadn’t just issued James with a verbal slap that made his head spin. “May I go to the kitchens? I’m a bit hungry.”
James was only too happy to be alone. “Go on, off with ye, then.”
As the boy skipped away, James sheathed the dirk and stared at the fire smoldering in the hearth. Harris wanted to wield a blade? Hell, if the young earl had any clue how close he’d come to slaying James with his tongue, he’d forget about sword fighting altogether.
Marry Lady Ailish Maxwell?
Him?
Certainly, the Bruce had spoken about finding her a match. A fact he’d desperately tried to block from his thoughts.
As a spark in the fire popped and landed at James’ feet, so too did an epiphany spark before his eyes.
He stood and marched up the stairs to the solar King Robert was using to plot his next battle.
“Ah, Sir James.” The king pressed his finger on the map near Ayr. “Before winter’s end I will return to Turnberry—my mother’s ancestral lands.”
“Do you think that wise, Your Grace?”
“There is one thing that is unwise and that is rotting on this frigid isle and waiting for Edward’s men to find me.”
“I cannot argue with you there.”
James stood for a time, pretending to examine the map while shifting from foot to foot.
The king straightened. “Was there something you wished to discuss?”
“There is, sire.”
“Come, I cannot have my champion knight tongue-tied. Out with it.”
“I have proved myself in battle, and you will not find a more loyal subject.”
“Agreed.” The king nodded. “If you had not dragged me from Dalrigh, I would have fallen to Lorne and his army of vipers.”
James barely registered the king’s words and continued to make his point, “I am the son of William, Lord of Douglas, and Elizabeth Stewart, daughter of the fourth High Steward of Scotland.”
The king narrowed his eyes as if he weren’t certain where James was heading. “Aye.”
“My family has served Scotland for generations.”
“I do not believe that was ever in question.”
James heaved an enormous breath. Why the devil was this so difficult? “I’d like to ask your permission to marry Lady Ailish Maxwell, Your Grace.”
“But she’s the daughter of an—” The king shut his mouth and looked toward the ceiling. “Why did you not come forward sooner?”
“I would have, but matters have been dire, making the idea of marriage...” James searched for the right word. “Unobtainable, and perhaps unfair to the lady.”
“Sir James, we are wintering in an Irish keep. Our…your situation is not exactly secure.”
“But when will it be? This is war and in war one must adapt.”
“True.” The king placed his finger on Douglas lands. “But your castle is in ruins. If I give you my blessing, have you a home in mind for a lady of her station, preferably one with an outer as well as an inner bailey?”
“I received word two days past that my clansmen have built a new roof over my keep.”
“A roof, aye?”
“Indeed, and if I ken anyone who can turn that pile of rubble into a castle fit for a queen, ’tis Lady Ailish.”
“Have you a ring?”
“No, sire.”
Robert tugged a silver band from his smallest finger. “Then take this along with my blessing.”
James accepted the gift and bowed deeply. “Thank you.”
“Go, wed the lass and plant a bairn in her belly. Then I will meet you at Turnberry on the first of February.”
***
Ailish sat in the lady’s solar embroidering while Florrie read aloud. It had been very kind of Lady MacSween to offer the chamber for Florrie’s lessons, especially now that the weather had turned particularly nasty. And though there was a thick fur covering the small window and tied down at the sides, there was no warmth within, not even the fire raging in the hearth could allay the chill.
Florrie put a slip of thread in her book to mark her page and set it aside. “Why must winter last so long? I fear it will never end.”
“It does seem that way,” Ailish agreed. This season was particularly harsh. The wind never stopped. The snow blew sideways. Worse, they’d received no word of Harris who, Ailish prayed, was safely