The Time Traveler's Christmas - Amy Jarecki Page 0,13
just need a lift.”
Hamish scowled and readied this weapon like he wanted another ass-kicking.
“Stop.” Lady Christina stepped in. “Sir Lachlan is right. This was not a contest to be won or lost, ’twas a demonstration of my new champion’s prowess.”
The scar on the man-at-arms’ face stretched downward as he gave Lachlan a deprecating glare. “I still dunna trust him, m’lady.”
“I agree,” said Sir Boyd. “I shall advise the king of his presence. We shall allow him sanctuary behind Roxburgh’s walls, but he must be kept under lock and key.”
“Why?” Lachlan asked. “Haven’t I proved enough?”
Sir Boyd snatched back his sword and handed Lachlan his medallion. “Do ye think we would allow a stranger—a possible sorcerer to roam freely about the castle? Ye’ll need to do much more than prove your might afore we give ye free reign.”
“Are you serious?” Panning his gaze across the hostile faces, Lachlan held up his palms in surrender. “Christ, I just need a phone to call my friend to give me a lift home.”
Boyd stepped in. Though he had to raise his chin, they stood nose-to-nose. “Ye see, ye are speaking gibberish, and that makes me verra nervous. Aye, ye can fight like Wallace, God rest his soul—ye look like him, too. But I canna trust ye, not yet. And my word is final until the king speaks differently.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder. “We willna throw ye in the pit, but ye will stay behind bars. Lady Christina will see to your needs until the king decides what is to be done.”
Lachlan looked sideways. At least a dozen soldiers surrounded him with pikes leveled at his throat. Even if he had a prayer to fend them off, the portcullis was closed. His gaze shot to the top of the curtain walls. If he managed to break away, he’d be an easy target for the archers. The odds weren’t good, no matter which way he considered it.
Before they led him away, he searched the faces for Lady Christina. Met with her wide-eyed stare, his jaw clenched and he shook his head.
Stabbed in the back by a woman yet again. Will I ever learn?
Chapter Four
Christina gulped against her thickening throat. Sir Lachlan’s fierce glower before they took him away cut her to the quick. Why did he have to make her feel as if she’d betrayed his trust? Surely he must understand the need to keep everyone in the fortress safe. And though Lachlan hadn’t done anything to hurt her or anyone else, he certainly proved himself capable. Goodness, if there ever was a one-man army it was he.
Besides, she would insure her new champion would receive food and hay to sleep upon—far more than a man could expect had he remained outside the castle walls at the mercy of outlaws, the English, or border reivers. Alone, Sir Lachlan would have faced all manner of dangers, especially after dark.
She couldn’t worry about her new champion’s ill feelings or glowering glares at a time like this, anyway. Now that the prisoner trade had been thwarted, she had dealings with King Robert whether the Bruce liked it or not.
She grasped Sir Boyd by the elbow. “Come, we need to gain an audience with the king.”
It had been four months since Robert the Bruce had sent the English back to their lands with their tails tucked between their legs—four months since Christina had been released from being a prisoner in her own fortress, Ormond Castle on the Moray Firth. Since that time, she’d joined her king and the nobles who supported him, her only goal to be reunited with her son, heir to the de Moray barony.
She didn’t delude herself into thinking her quest was of utmost importance to Scotland. King Robert had a great many things on his mind, but he still needed the nobles to support him. By freeing Andrew from captivity and bringing him home to Scotland, the Bruce was making an ally of the most powerful clan in the Highlands. There was a reason William Wallace had been successful at Stirling Bridge. The man built loyalty. Fighting beside Wallace, Christina’s husband had a significant role in Scotland’s success. Had her son’s father survived, things might have turned out quite differently for the kingdom and Robert Bruce knew it.
Regardless of how anxious she felt when in the king’s presence, she held her head high whilst she followed Sir Boyd through the labyrinth of buildings toward the royal donjon. She was in control of lands