The Time Traveler's Christmas - Amy Jarecki Page 0,14
needed by the crown and showing the slightest bit of fear would be folly. Thank heavens her father, the late Earl of Atholl, had taught her inner strength. For this was no time for wallflowers. This was a time to stand her ground and make it known that neither she nor her son could be cast aside for another cause deemed more important.
With Sir Boyd, she marched through the donjon doors, across the great hall and up the stairwell to the first landing—straight to the solar King Robert used to direct his affairs. As was proper, the knight addressed the sentries standing guard outside the door. “Sir Boyd and Lady de Moray to see His Grace forthwith.”
“I’m afraid ye’ll have to wait, sir.” The man bowed to Christina. “M’lady. The king is gathering with his ministers.”
“Ballocks to that.” Boyd pushed past the man and pulled down on the latch. “I am one of his bloody ministers.”
Christina shuffled inside the solar on the knight’s heels, then curtseyed deeply. “Your Grace, what are we to make of this day’s events?”
The king grumbled, looking under his thick eyebrows and raking his gaze across the faces of the noblemen seated at the table. “We were discussing that very issue.”
She moved closer to King Robert’s chair. “We must make haste to follow the men who took Andrew afore they venture too far into England.”
“’Tis already done.” The king motioned for his squire to fill his tankard. “Sir Boyd sent our best men to track the varlets afore we left the battlefield.” His stare grew dark. “This is the last time I place any trust in King Edward. No greater backstabber hath ever walked Christendom.”
“Thank ye, sire.” Christina bowed her head and curtseyed. “I should have kent ye’d act swiftly. I long to have my son home for Yule, as ye promised.”
King Robert’s lips thinned and stretched over his teeth. “We will do what we can to see him returned, but as I’ve said, if Andrew is lost to us, ye will have no choice but to choose a husband and set to breeding a new heir.”
“Indeed,” said the High Steward, licking his lips. He’d made his intentions clear where she was concerned and Christina had not been impressed.
The thought of making a match with the pompous toad made her stomach churn. “Now, let us not grow hasty. I couldna possibly do anything to put my son’s inheritance in jeopardy.”
“Aye, and we’ve discussed that many times,” agreed the Bruce. “Ye’d best remember your place and set to your duty whilst ye’re at court.”
Her face burned. Why did the king make a spectacle about her need to be amenable to a suit of marriage whenever she had something unsavory to discuss?
King Robert shifted his gaze to Sir Boyd. “What other news? I had word there was a contest in the courtyard.”
Christina looked to the candles alight in the wheel-shaped chandelier overhead. Nothing happened at court without the king gaining knowledge of it straight away.
“A knight has arrived from the continent,” said Sir Boyd. “He fought off several Englishmen to rescue Lady Christina from capture.”
“Och, I never should have allowed a woman to ride to the border. I should have kent Edward would turn backstabber.” The king’s gaze softened. “Ye must forgive me, Lady Christina.”
She clasped her hands together, ever so grateful for the change in subject. “Oh no, ye wouldna have been able to keep me away. I saw my son today and for that, I would pay all the silver in my coffers.”
“And what have ye done with this knight? Is he trustworthy?” The king reached for his goblet and took a swig.
Boyd shook his head. “He must earn his trust. For now, he’s behind bars in the gatehouse. His speech is odd—I’ve only met one other person in my life with such a tongue.”
Setting his drink on the board, the king regarded his champion knight intently. “And who might that be?”
“Eva MacKay,” Christina answered. A clammy chill spread across her skin as she glanced to Sir Boyd. “She wore a similar medallion as well.”
“William Wallace’s wife?” asked the king. “I met her briefly. Good woman.”
“Aye,” said Sir Boyd. “This fella looks like Wallace for certain—every bit as tall as well.”
The king scratched his beard. “We could use a man like that.”
The High Steward shook his finger. “Agreed, once he’s proven his loyalty.”
Robert again raised his goblet, but this time in toast. “Here, here.”
“But he’s already done that.” Christina took in a deep inhale and stood