The Time Traveler's Christmas - Amy Jarecki Page 0,30
from the Orient. Whether or not he was related to Khan, I cannot say.”
“Hmm. And what is your purpose in my army now?”
I wish I knew. Lachlan scratched his head trying to come up with something truthful that wouldn’t get him stretched on the rack.
Lady Christina held up her finger—she proved quite adept with such a small appendage. “I have named him my champion. He will help me find Andrew.”
The king glanced her way, but then regarded Lachlan with a critical eye. “What are his motives, m’lady? Riches? Land? Power?”
Not about to let a woman speak on his behalf, Lachlan stepped forward. “As long as I’m here, I want to be treated with the same respect due any man.” He gestured to her ladyship. “And serve my lady as she sees fit.”
“And your king?”
He bowed. “Of course that goes without saying, Your Grace.”
The king almost cracked a smile. “He does learn quickly does he not, m’lady?”
“Aye he—” Christina turned as the door burst open.
“Your Grace.” Two mail-clad warriors marched inside, wearing swords at their hips and targes strapped across their backs. They both bowed, then the larger stepped forward. “They’ve taken Andrew de Moray to Norham Castle.”
Clasping her hands together, Christina gasped. “My son.”
“He’s alive?” asked Bruce.
“We believe so. At least that’s what the English bastard told us afore we—” The guard bowed to Christina. “Beg your pardon, m’lady, but we had no choice but to send the poor beggar to his maker.”
“This is war. And in war, there are casualties on both sides. No one kens that better than I,” said Christina with a hard edge to her voice Lachlan hadn’t noticed before. He gave her a look. Though darling and petite, she might not be quite the delicate flower he’d pegged her to be. “Please, Robert,” she even called the king by the familiar. “Norham is so close.”
“Aye, and ’tis crawling with English,” said the guard.
Sir Boyd leaned back and folded his arms. “That only means we need to attack swiftly.”
“Nay.” The king sliced his hand through the air. “We’ll have better luck against her ramparts when the siege engines arrive from Stirling.”
“I’ll go in alone,” Lachlan heard himself say with conviction. Though he didn’t want to die before he managed to make it home, he’d been far better trained than any of the characters in this chamber. In the Special Forces, he’d been trained in covert warfare. He could slip inside and play a ghost until he found the lad.
Boyd snorted. “Ye’d be gutted the moment ye opened your mouth.”
“I’m not planning to make any lengthy speeches.” He shot a pointed look to Sir Robert Dominus Boyd, a man he was beginning to respect—and the only person in this century who knew the truth. “Tell me I’m wrong. I have no doubt King Robert knows it’s expensive to move an army—and to engage them is even more costly with loss of life. Besides, you said you’re waiting for catapults to come from Stirling. Why not let me slip inside while you’re waiting—one man can be a more powerful weapon than an army given the circumstances.”
“But what if ye’re caught?” asked Boyd. “They’ll move Andrew south for certain.”
“I like the crusader’s plot.” Bruce slapped his palm on the table. “If Wallace is seized we’ll attack as soon as the retinue leaves the safety of Norham’s ramparts.”
Lachlan raked his fingers through his hair. How little value they placed on his life. The king’s indifference made him want to withdraw his offer.
Lady Christina wrung her hands. “Do ye honestly think ye can spirit Andrew away without being captured?”
He gave her a nod—at least she showed some concern for his welfare. “I think I have as good a chance as any man.”
Christina covered her mouth. “Ye will not put Andrew’s life in peril?”
Well, it’s only natural she would show more concern for kin than for me. “Less than if King Robert’s army attacked the English directly.”
Lowering her hand, the lady squared her shoulders. “Then I say we do it.”
“That’s settled, then,” said King Robert with a clap of his hands. “Sir Boyd and Sir Lachlan will plan the rescue and, tonight, we shall feast in their honor.”
Chapter Nine
Christina allowed herself a modicum of hope as she climbed through the stairwell with an arm full of new clothes. They had discovered Andrew’s whereabouts and Sir Lachlan had volunteered to rescue him. Would she hold her son in her arms at last? If only she could allow herself to feel happiness, but it