Once inside the room, Lara and Bram moved about, each doing what they could to ignore the other. Lara felt that if she did not say something soon she would implode. She felt more uncomfortable with his ignoring her than his attempt to kiss her.
“Will food and hot water be brought up to the room?” she asked, wanting the break the silence between them.
“Aye. It should be here soon. Ye can take the first bath.”
“And where will ye be?”
“I will wait down in the tavern. I could use a drink or two,” he said, thinking that it would take more than a tankard or two to rid himself of his utter humiliation.
At a knock on the door, Bram crossed the room and allowed two maids to enter. Each one of them carried a steaming bucket of hot water in each hand. A third maid followed close behind with a tray of meat and bread. Bram snatched up a few pieces of meat and a slice of the bread and headed down to the tavern to give Lara her privacy.
Lara waited until the maids had gone before removing her dress and stepping into the bath. Once inside, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. If heaven existed, at this very moment, this was it.
Bram sat at a table in the corner of the tavern staring into his mug. He thought about what tomorrow would bring. After he delivered Lara to her father, he would head back to Dunakin. He was anxious to see his family and his boys. While thinking about Lara, he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong with this whole situation. He was curious why her father was so eager for his son to become king, knowing that his son had no royal blood. Should the people of Norway learn their king was a fraud, they could abandon their loyalty for Norway and might seek a new alliance with Denmark, which would cause the English to intervene and take control of the country. Any further English power, and King Edward would double his army and be able to kill every Scot in the Highlands. What bothered him the most about this situation was why so many secrets were kept from Lara.
It came to him suddenly, like being hit in the head with a rock. The English threat must have been the reason for keeping Lara in the dark. Her father must not have wanted her caught in the middle of a battle if it came to that, but Dermot’s role made no sense. What was Lara’s dowry, and was it really worth killing for?
Too many unanswered questions clouded Bram’s mind. He feared that whatever Lara’s father was keeping from her put her in grave danger. He figured that Dermot must have found out his secret, and that was the reason he tried to rid himself of her. That would explain why he had sent men out after her. With no plan or army to help protect them, Bram and Lara were on their own and they could very well be heading right into the mouth of a dragon.
Chapter 16
Lara took a deep breath as she and Bram stood just outside the gates that led into the bailey of the Norse Castle. People rushed to and from the open courtyard as the gate guards stood watch. As they stepped under the portcullis and past the gate house, they entered into the heart of the courtyard.
Around them were a mass of buildings; storage rooms, stables, and a tall standing keep, the heart of the castle. With sculpted masonry and statues, the keep was a magnificent sight.
A man stood just outside the doorway as Lara approached the main entrance of the keep. She curtsied before speaking.
“Pardon my ignorance, Sir, but my name is Lara Fergusson Moray, and I have come to see my father, William Fergusson. I was told that he had journeyed here several weeks ago. Do ye ken how I could find him?”
“Lady Moray,” he said and bowed to her in return. “I am Godfrey, King Magnusson’s chancellor. I am afraid yer father is away with the king. He shall return tomorrow. For now, I am sure Queen Isobel would not mind yer presence until he returns. And who do ye be?”
“My name is Bram MacKinnon, brother to Laird MacKinnon of the Highlands.”
“Verra well. Follow me.”
Bram kept a keen eye on his surroundings for any sign of danger as they walked into the great hall. Bram had never been inside a royal place. The walls were draped in luxurious tapestries, and sconces lit up the room. Instead of fresh rushes, the floor was made of polished wood, and behind the tapestries the walls were painted a soft cream color. Similar to a church, the windows were covered with figured stained glass and created a rainbow of colors from the sunlight shining through them. It felt too rich for his blood. He was better off in the Highlands.
At the head of a very long table sat a woman holding her bairn and a guard standing on each side of her. Seeing that she was dressed in a fine garment with jewels dangling across her neck, it took Bram only moments to realize that the woman holding the babe was none other than the Queen of Norway.
“Your Highness, may I present Lara Fergusson Moray, daughter of William Fergusson and her escort Bram MacKinnon.”
“My lady, sir, I present to you Queen Isobel,” the chancellor announced.
Her dark green eyes went directly to Lara and widened as if she had seen a ghost. Her face turned grim as she pursed her lips together.
“Fergusson?”
“Aye, my lady,” Lara replied feeling the Queen’s cold gaze.
“I wish to speak to the lass. Leave us. Both of you,” Queen Isobel ordered, without taking her eyes off Lara. Suddenly, the room felt cold.
Before he could voice a dispute, the chancellor stood in front of Bram, blocking him from both the queen’s and Lara’s views. Leaving her was foolish and he would do no such thing. He was about to object when Lara looked over the chancellor’s shoulder and said, “I will nay be too long Bram, I promise.”
Lara looked back at the queen, whose sharp gaze bore down on her like a dagger. The queen continued to watch her until Bram and the chancellor left the room and closed the door.
Still holding the sleeping bairn, Queen Isobel asked, “You say William Fergusson is your father?”
“Aye, my Lady.”
“That is a very clever story. But I do no’ see why you had to lie to enter these gates. Were you sent here as a spy, or to help one of our enemies lay siege to our castle?”
The insult was overwhelming. Why would Lara lie about who she was? “William Fergusson is my father, yer Grace,” Lara argued.
“I dinna know how that could be, lass, for William only has one child, a son. If you truly are his daughter, then may I ask who your mother is?”
“My mother was Elsa, but she died when I was ten and two, my Lady.”
Queen Isobel continued to look at her in disbelief. “How old are ye?” she asked.
“Ten and seven.”
Lara had no idea what to think of her questions, or where they would lead, but they caused the pit of her stomach to ache. Why would she lie? Why wouldn’t her father mention that he had a daughter? It made no sense. Clearly, she did not trust Lara’s claim to be a Fergusson. She wanted to run away from this moment, from this place; but she had little choice in the matter until she spoke with her father. She wished Bram had not been escorted out of the room. She needed his strength.
“If you are who you say you are, we will find out in due time. For now, you can stay in one of our guest rooms until William and my husband return. You will not be allowed to wander freely around the castle. If you need something, I will have one of my maids tend to it, and a guard to escort you when needed. I expect my husband to arrive in the early hours of the morning. At that time we will meet again.” Speaking louder, she called out to a guard positioned just outside the door. “Take Lady Moray and her escort to the guest rooms on the third floor. Make sure Alba tends to their needs.”
“Aye, my lady,” he responded and escorted her out the door.