Terri Brisbin - The Maid of Lorne

“It might make this castle a target for attack if he thinks he can free them and then be free of his oath and truce with me.”

“Ah, but sire, Dunstaffnage is impregnable, as we both know.”

The rumbling of male laughter unnerved her and she stepped away from the wall. ‘Twas true. Dunstaffnage had never fallen in battle or in siege—its position high on the rock cliffs gave it a great advantage, with the sea guarding its back. That same rock under its foundations made it impossible for tunnels to be dug to undermine its walls. So it had stood against all enemies…until she had opened the gates. Her stomach churned as she realized that only through her stupidity was Dunstaffnage in the Bruce’s control now. Shaking her head in denial, she stumbled back, landing hard against the wooden crates near her.

Her father had given her instructions to keep everyone inside and not open the gates to anyone. In attempting to get Malcolm and Catriona to safety, she had failed him. They had been captured, giving the enemy the key to the castle, and turning them all over to the Scots rebels. She had lost their home and their clan to the Bruce.

“Milady?” Margaret knocked lightly on the door as she opened it a bit. “Have you found them?”

Shaking herself from the remorse now threatening to overwhelm her, Lara moved around the trunks to the center of the room. Margaret opened the door fully, and the guards stepped to either side of the entrance.

“I did not. Mayhap they are in my chambers, after all.”

Without even a glance at Margaret or the guards, Lara strode down the corridor to the stairway that led to her chambers. She needed to be alone to face the awesome mistake she’d made. A guard rushed ahead to open her door, and once more leaned into the room to check for…she knew not what. The keep was secured and completely under the control of the Bruce’s followers. The only ones left of her clan were herself, the children and, from what she’d witnessed in the yard, a few servants in the keep and stables. Certainly no threat to the Bruce or to his new warden, her husband.

The guard offered a slight bow, more a tilt of his head, and then he retreated into the corridor to join the other man. When Margaret began to enter, Lara waved her off. She needed to be alone before the staggering consequences of her actions overtook her.

Margaret backed out, uncertainty filling her expression, and then the door closed. Lara lunged to the shuttered window and pushed it open. The breeze off the sea poured in, and what had once soothed her fears and restlessness now taunted her. Her childhood home was in the hands of the enemy, her father exiled and hating her for it. Her brother and sister were alive for the moment, but their fate now rested with the usurper king and his minions.

As if her thoughts had conjured them, she watched the two men—Robert the Bruce and Sebastien of Cleish—walk down the steps and mount their horses. What were they about? What decision had they made about the children? Standing on her toes and looking through the yard, she saw no sign that the king was taking them. Mayhap he had changed his mind?

Tempted to call out, Lara found her gaze captured by the sight of Sebastien on his horse. Just as he neared the gate, he turned back and his eyes met hers. Even from this far she could see his nod to her, and she puzzled over the meaning of it. Then he put his helmet on and followed the Bruce through the gate and out of Dunstaffnage.

If only it were as easy for her to leave.

“They will be your prisoners then, until I summon them.”

“My thanks, sire,” Sebastien said, nodding at the Bruce.

“I still do not comprehend why you would want their custody. From what I have seen and heard, both from you and from her father, controlling your new wife will be task enough for you.”

Had the king read his thoughts? Sebastien met Bruce’s gaze and saw the teasing within it. Robert did not take Lorne’s daughter seriously, but Sebastien would not make that same mistake. After speaking to most of the prisoners and those servants who remained behind, he knew that Lara MacDougall had managed the castle in her father’s stead many times. She knew the defenses, the provisions, the number of soldiers needed to hold it and how long it could stand under siege.

“Is that why you gave her to me? A challenge to keep me busy while you have fun cavorting all over Scotland?”

Surely the king knew he would chafe under these new restrictions, staying here instead of being in Robert’s vanguard of warriors during the important campaigns of the next months and year. The battles they faced, to claim the west of Scotland, while the Bruce’s allies took and held the east, would determine the fate of them all. And staying here, tied in one place, was not how Sebastien saw himself and his battle skills being best used.

“It is imperative that this castle and this coast be held, Sebastien. I can trust very few to see to that. I know you view this as some kind of limitation, but you have my utmost confidence in this.”

When said thusly, how could he argue or secondguess the king? Knowing when to hold his tongue, he simply nodded once more and watched the Bruce dismount. Sebastien had won the argument he’d wanted to this day—the children would remain. Accepting that it would be the only one, he nodded in agreement.

“I also need you to make arrangements for the gathering at Kilcrenan next week,” Robert said quietly. He looked from side to side to make certain his words could not be heard, then he continued, “I need the counsel of all of my best men before embarking on what I hope is the final campaign to take Scotland back from our enemies.”

“I understand, sire,” Sebastien answered.

Robert had chosen a village to the south as the site of his “parliament,” where his nobles would plan the next offensives. Its location was a secret closely guarded by a very few. If the Bruce’s enemies knew of it, it could be devastating to those who fought for him.

“Well, you had best return to the castle,” the king said, walking to him and extending his arm. Sebastien leaned over the horse’s side and returned the gesture.

“I still think you should stay in Dunstaffnage, Sire. ‘Twould be safer for you than out in the open.” Sebastien surveyed the area around the camp. He supposed that the king was safe as long as he was surrounded by his army.

“Sebastien,” the Bruce said as he leaned closer. “You must exert yourself there, and my presence will interfere with that. Make that place and those people yours, so that none can doubt you.”

On the face of it, it sounded much like a warning about his men, and even about the MacDougalls who remained behind. But Sebastien knew better. Questions had been raised about his position within the hierarchy of the Bruce’s forces. There was always some nobleman who felt slighted by the rewards or the rank given to Sebastien, or the esteem in which the king held him. Although Sebastien knew that every honor had been earned with the sweat and blood of him or his men, others chose to think differently. When adversity should have united them, it turned small cracks of jealousy and intrigue into major crevasses of greed and mistrust.

“As you wish, sire,” he replied, bowing his head.

“Go now, Sebastien. A newly wedded man should not tarry long.”

Thoughts jumbled together in his mind at the king’s words. He certainly did not feel wedded, or at least not the way he’d always thought he would feel when married. He’d believed that when Scotland was in the hands of the Bruce, he would settle down with a quiet girl and have a home and bairns. If the king gave him some manor or lands…well, Sebastien had never thought of or craved something as grand or as important as Dunstaffnage.