Lara’s bottom lip trembled, and her eyes grew misty. Talking to him was useless. He truly had cast her to the wolves. But why? Why did he hate her so much? Lara ran out the door in tears, and John followed.
“Damnation, if that lass ruins everything I have worked for,” William muttered to himself.
John caught up with Lara in the garden. She had been sitting on the bench, crying with her head in her hands. Slowly, he approached her, not wanting to frighten her.
“Lara. Ye can no’ run away every time he yells at ye,” he said, sitting down next to her and placing his hand on her shoulder for comfort.
“I dinna understand him, John. Why does he hate me?”
“I dinna ken. He is tough on me too. What are ye doing here?”
“Dermot…he is a treacherous mon, John. He lied about his wealth. He is nay richer than a lone peasant. English soldiers came to our keep, and when he could no’ pay, he gave them me in exchange for his debt. I spent weeks in a dungeon, was treated cruelly. They barely fed me or allowed me to sleep.” She sputtered, trying to catch her breath.
John’s look of concern was etched on his face. “How did ye escape and travel this far all on yer own?”
“I killed the guard. And I have no’ travelled alone. My escort is a Highland warrior. He is a verra brave and honorable mon.”
“A Highlander!” John looked astonished.
“Aye. John, I can nay go back to Foley Castle. I believe Dermot may already ken I escaped the dungeon; he sent men to search fer me. I fear if he finds me, he will kill me. Please dinna let Father make me go back to him,” Lara pleaded through tears.
“Lass, I am yer brother. I will protect ye. Have ye told anyone else this story since ye have been here?”
“Nay.”
“Good. I dinna ken if ye ken this but many great things are happening. The King is dying. It is a secret even to his own men. Because his daughter Lady Margaret died many years ago, and his new babe is just a wee bairn, I have been chosen to be his successor. The only heir to the throne is his brother, and King Magnusson will do anything to keep him from the throne.”
“But how can ye be king if ye are of nay royal blood?”
John wickedly smiled and explained, “Because we told his people that I am his cousin. My coronation is tomorrow evening. Once I am king, I promise ye that ye will have nothing to worry about again. Ye must tell nay one of this secret. Nay e’en yer Highland companion. Ye must promise me.”
“Nay, of course, Brother.”
Lara drew in a comforting deep breath. She knew that if Dermot did arrive, she had both Bram and now her brother to protect her. She smiled and gave her brother a bear-sized hug.
Bram mingled in the great hall with the crowd of men after he found Lara’s room empty. He had checked on her in the wee hours of the morning, but she lay asleep, and he did not wish to wake her. Instead of returning to his own room, he had gone downstairs to break his fast. Before he knew it, alarms sounded announcing the king’s arrival, and several dozen riders rode through the gates.
When Bram could not find Lara in her room, he assumed she had found her father and was somewhere in the castle speaking to him. He only hoped that her father would listen. From what Lara told him, he was not too sure the man could be trusted.
All night, Bram could think of nothing but the passionate kiss he’d shared with Lara. It was anything but innocent. When he felt her kiss him back, he knew that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, though she refused to admit it. Still, he needed to keep his feelings to himself for now. He had no idea what today would bring. Whether he would send her back to her husband or get the marriage annulled lay in the hands of her father. Bram knew that if there was an annulment, he would ask for her hand. But would she accept? Bram’s palms began to sweat when the thought entered his mind. His chest tightened with both anticipation and anxiety.
The King of Norway came bursting through the tall double doors, greeting several of the men in the room. Bram had never met King Eric Magnusson, but had heard that the man was fierce in battle. He overheard a group of men talking about the King’s recent campaign battling the Danish army and the success it had brought to his people.
King Eric was a tall man, with long, wild black hair and a pale complexion. He looked exactly as one would imagine a Norse Viking would. There was something particularly odd about him. He walked with a proud gait but seemed to favor his right leg over his left, and he appeared to be clutching onto his left arm. There was also something oddly familiar about him, though Bram had never seen the man before.
As a man experienced in battle and a warrior since childhood, Bram sensed that the King’s injuries were far greater than he displayed. He knew how a man looked when trying to hide battle wounds. Bram observed the other men in the room. Not one of them seemed to have taken notice of the King’s condition. Bram assumed that King Eric was either too proud or too stubborn to admit his health was declining.
King Eric raised a cloth to his lips and coughed profusely against it. Before he slipped it back into his pocket, Bram noticed the blood stain upon it. It became all too clear to him. The King wasn’t just injured, he truly was dying. That much had not been a lie.
Bram walked around the courtyard, patiently waiting for Lara to return from speaking to her brother. A guard had informed him that the two of them had taken occupancy in the garden earlier.
“Bram,” Lara called out, as she came running towards him from the garden gate.
Her smile and bright eyes made him wish he could take her into his arms and kiss her a thousand times, but in public they had to keep their distance.
“Bram, I worried ye had already left.”
“Nay. I promised ye I would stay and make sure that ye were safe. Did ye talk wit’ yer father?”
Lara’s smiled was quickly replaced with a lowered brow a tightness about her lips
“Aye. He is angry that I came here, and demanded that I return to Scotland at once, but I dinna have to worry about that anymore. Nor do I have to worry about Dermot ever again.”
“Why?”
“Tomorrow is my brother’s coronation. When he is announced king, he promised to offer me protection within these walls. He promised that he would send word to our priest to have the marriage annulled. Isnae that wonderful news?” Lara asked grinning from ear to ear.
“Aye, lass. I am glad that all has worked out fer ye.”
Bram’s eyes saddened.
“What is the matter wit’ ye? Are ye nay happy fer me?”
“Aye, lass. I am,” he said, and it wasn’t all a lie. Happiness was something he very much wanted for her, but he wanted to be the cause of it.
“What about ye? Now that I am safe, will ye be heading back to Scotland?”
“Most likely. I have planned to leave soon.”
“Will ye at least stay for the coronation?”
Lara’s pleading eyes were hard to resist. Bram pressed his palm against her soft cheek.
“Aye, lass I will.”
For the remainder of the day, Bram stayed close to Lara’s side, not wanting to miss any time he had left with her. They sat at one of the tables in the great hall with a few of the men from the village, drinking tankards of ale and sharing stories of battle. They talked and laughed until the wee hours of the night, as the servants prepared the castle for tomorrow’s coronation. Hundreds of guests were expected to arrive.
Lara had spent the rest of the day avoiding contact with her father. She wanted to believe that John’s talk with him about his plan would ease his mind. For when John became King, there would no longer be a need to continue the alliance with Clan Moray.