their moment. With a subtle ache in her heart, Liadain knew the past was best left that way.
Suddenly she felt so utterly exhausted that even her nerves throbbed. Murmuring her good-byes to the new family, she retreated to her room to get a few hours’ rest. After pulling off her dress and sliding under the covers, she was sound asleep in a matter of seconds.
What was that tapping noise? She stirred. Perhaps the unwelcome disturbance would cease and she could resume her blissful unawareness—well, she could if that incessant banging upon her door would stop. Now. She rolled over and grabbed her pillow, attempting to block the maddening pounding.
“M’lady?” called someone from outside her door.
Removing the pillow, Liadain raised her head. Perhaps he would take his leave if she remained perfectly still.
“M’lady?” the voice called again, more impatiently.
Liadain silently cursed. “Aye?” she answered reluctantly.
“His Majesty requests your presence and I am to escort you.”
Ten
Declan broke his fast and reveled in the knowledge that he would shortly be granted an audience with His Majesty. Castle Campbell. His. It was only a matter of time. And unlike the bloody Campbell, he had not needed any manipulation or political aspirations on his part to gain such a worthy prize. He had won the tournament simply on skill and he was rather proud of himself.
Finishing what was left of his biscuit, he was reminded of Ealasaid’s cooking. He had to admit, a part of him—a small part—sorely missed home. He wondered if his clan would have new respect for him now that he would be master of Castle Campbell. He had just risen from the bench when a young page approached him.
“His Majesty summons you.”
As Declan walked through the halls of court, he could not ease his pounding heart. He was elated; his life held new meaning. He only wished his father and mother had lived to see his success. Holding his head high, he entered the king’s solar.
“Your Majesty,” said Declan cheerily, giving his liege a low bow.
King James sat behind his massive desk and chuckled at Declan’s lightheartedness. “Please sit, MacGregor. Your skill with a bow is truly to be admired. That was an excellent shot.”
Declan sat down in the chair and leaned back, relaxing in the gentle companionship. “Thank ye, Your Majesty.”
King James shuffled through a pile of papers and pulled one out of the stack. For a brief moment, he studied the document. “I have summoned you to discuss the particulars of your recompense.”
Sitting forward on the edge of his chair, Declan was barely able to contain his anticipation. This was the moment he had been waiting for.
“Ciaran MacGregor shall hold a portion of the Campbell lands. Declan MacGregor, Castle Campbell is yours…with Argyll’s sister as your wife.”
Declan was too stunned to offer any immediate objection. What the hell just happened? Had he been commanded to wed… the healer ? Was his liege mad?
When the king cast him a puzzled look, Declan realized his mouth had fallen open. Trying quickly to recover his wits, he hunched over and rested his arms on his thighs. He needed a moment—or several days—to comprehend his liege’s words.
“MacGregor?”
“My apologies, Your Majesty. I am trying to understand,” said Declan, lifting his head and running a hand through his hair.
King James’s eyes flashed a gentle but firm warning. “What is there to understand? You thought that I would just hand over Castle Campbell and expect nothing in return?”
“The reward for the tournament was Castle Campbell—naught more,” Declan blurted out, a little harsher than he intended.
“And you are being justly rewarded. You seem to have taken an interest in Argyll’s sister and—”
Declan could barely rein in the frustration that coiled within his body. “Your Majesty, I can assure ye I have nay interest in Argyll’s sister. I cannae wed a Campbell.”
“Pardon the
Suddenly she felt so utterly exhausted that even her nerves throbbed. Murmuring her good-byes to the new family, she retreated to her room to get a few hours’ rest. After pulling off her dress and sliding under the covers, she was sound asleep in a matter of seconds.
What was that tapping noise? She stirred. Perhaps the unwelcome disturbance would cease and she could resume her blissful unawareness—well, she could if that incessant banging upon her door would stop. Now. She rolled over and grabbed her pillow, attempting to block the maddening pounding.
“M’lady?” called someone from outside her door.
Removing the pillow, Liadain raised her head. Perhaps he would take his leave if she remained perfectly still.
“M’lady?” the voice called again, more impatiently.
Liadain silently cursed. “Aye?” she answered reluctantly.
“His Majesty requests your presence and I am to escort you.”
Ten
Declan broke his fast and reveled in the knowledge that he would shortly be granted an audience with His Majesty. Castle Campbell. His. It was only a matter of time. And unlike the bloody Campbell, he had not needed any manipulation or political aspirations on his part to gain such a worthy prize. He had won the tournament simply on skill and he was rather proud of himself.
Finishing what was left of his biscuit, he was reminded of Ealasaid’s cooking. He had to admit, a part of him—a small part—sorely missed home. He wondered if his clan would have new respect for him now that he would be master of Castle Campbell. He had just risen from the bench when a young page approached him.
“His Majesty summons you.”
As Declan walked through the halls of court, he could not ease his pounding heart. He was elated; his life held new meaning. He only wished his father and mother had lived to see his success. Holding his head high, he entered the king’s solar.
“Your Majesty,” said Declan cheerily, giving his liege a low bow.
King James sat behind his massive desk and chuckled at Declan’s lightheartedness. “Please sit, MacGregor. Your skill with a bow is truly to be admired. That was an excellent shot.”
Declan sat down in the chair and leaned back, relaxing in the gentle companionship. “Thank ye, Your Majesty.”
King James shuffled through a pile of papers and pulled one out of the stack. For a brief moment, he studied the document. “I have summoned you to discuss the particulars of your recompense.”
Sitting forward on the edge of his chair, Declan was barely able to contain his anticipation. This was the moment he had been waiting for.
“Ciaran MacGregor shall hold a portion of the Campbell lands. Declan MacGregor, Castle Campbell is yours…with Argyll’s sister as your wife.”
Declan was too stunned to offer any immediate objection. What the hell just happened? Had he been commanded to wed… the healer ? Was his liege mad?
When the king cast him a puzzled look, Declan realized his mouth had fallen open. Trying quickly to recover his wits, he hunched over and rested his arms on his thighs. He needed a moment—or several days—to comprehend his liege’s words.
“MacGregor?”
“My apologies, Your Majesty. I am trying to understand,” said Declan, lifting his head and running a hand through his hair.
King James’s eyes flashed a gentle but firm warning. “What is there to understand? You thought that I would just hand over Castle Campbell and expect nothing in return?”
“The reward for the tournament was Castle Campbell—naught more,” Declan blurted out, a little harsher than he intended.
“And you are being justly rewarded. You seem to have taken an interest in Argyll’s sister and—”
Declan could barely rein in the frustration that coiled within his body. “Your Majesty, I can assure ye I have nay interest in Argyll’s sister. I cannae wed a Campbell.”
“Pardon the
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