The Pledge (18 page)

He’d waited a sennight for his most prestigious and powerful lord, a man reputed to have larger coffers than his own. Not
that he would ever know for sure. The MacKays were a canny bunch who kept many secrets concerning their clan among themselves.
It’d been a thorn under more than one skin, including the king’s, that not a hint of MacKay private business was bruited about.
Not natural! Were there no tale-wagging MacKays?

One close-kept knowledge that annoyed him more than any other was the hiding place of the huge treasure that many had sought,
none had found. Edward had no doubt that Hugh MacKay was in control of that hoard just as he was in charge of his clan. None
of his operatives who scoured the countryside when he’d been at war with MacKay had ever turned up a clue. There was no way
of secreting a spy in the clan. MacKays knew family and kin from generations back. Fifth cousins were as known to them as
brothers were.

Despite his ire, Edward admired the MacKays. They, too, had learned their lesson at the hard taskmaster of war and defeat.
At another time he might have commiserated with their leader on the similar vagaries of running a country and a clan. Not
now. Edward was in no mood to excuse or discuss anything except the topic that had roiled his spirit for days. He’d ordered
Hugh MacKay to present himself at once. In fact, he’d wanted him in front of him the very day the message was delivered, though
it might have killed a horse to do it. That had been Edward’s plan. MacKay had had other ideas, it would seem.

Hugh entered the great room of the king’s castle and knew the monarch was in bad tid.

“You tarried for a good reason, I’ll be bound,” Edward said, his mouth hard.

Hugh nodded. “And you are annoyed, good royal, unless I read you in error.”

“You don’t. My temper simmers.”

“I was with my wife, first as her patient, then as her husband.”

Edward’s brows drooped lower. “I’d heard you nearly crossed over to the other side, Hugh. What think you? Did Heaven or Hell
await you?”

“Hell, of course. I have Heaven with my wife.”

Edward sat back, a reluctant smile on his face. “You rogue. Only you would end up with a beauty, one who has already produced
a son, and will no doubt deliver another in time. Not for you the fry-faced harridans who dog much of the aristocracy.”

Hugh grinned. “Forsooth, I agree that there must be an angel at my beck and call. How else could I have managed to find an
earthbound one!”

“You’ve become like the sonnet makers, I’ll be bound.”

Hugh laughed. “If it would please her, I would try it, though I think I’d make poor work of it.”

“I would that I could command you as strongly.” When Hugh opened his mouth to retort, Edward waved him to silence. “I know,
I know, you couldn’t be in sickbed and here at the same time.” His smile twisted. “Though some of your foes would gainsay
me. They believe you’re in league with the King of Darkness, himself. Ergo, you could be two places at once.”

“They’d be wrong. My wife’s good ministrations and beauty kept me housebound.”

“I would still like a touch of your wife’s power.”

“So would I. She has well and truly caught me and she has won my people to her side.”

Edward chuckled. “Will I have to fight all of Wales next?”

Alerted, Hugh settled back in his chair. “You’re contemplating war?”

“My English cousin, the other Edward Rex, has been making unpleasant sounds. His voracious hunger for lands and treasure has
given him a wandering eye.”

“I thought his ravenings were directed toward France.”

“So they are, but I sense he would make all of this land his”—Edward swept his hand around his great room—“before crossing
La Manche to tackle our Gallic cousins.”

Hugh frowned. “He’ll set the world afire, and there’ll be no quenching it. I’ll not see one MacKay sacrificed for his greed.”

Edward smiled. “I have your covenant you’ll not fight with him, at his side and with his banner.”

“You have.” Hugh paused. “You should know I have no taste for war, now. MacKay holdings are where they belong. My people are
knitting their lives back together. I’ll not see all the striving and good works raveled for Edward of England or for what
doesn’t belong to him.”

Edward sighed. “That righteous remark has not stopped many.”

“No, but I tell you this. No MacKay is grist for Edward’s mill. I’ll let him know that. Too many of mine
have perished. Too much of what was ours was taken back at too great a cost. There’ll be no MacKays on English Edward’s sacrificial
altar.”

Edward Baliol sat back. “They could come at us without warning.”

“No, they couldn’t,” Hugh averred, stretching his long legs in front of him. “MacKay ground is covered and watched.” He cocked
a brow. “So is all land that abuts it, including royal holdings.”

“I see.” Edward chuckled. “You’re a rogue.”

“You repeat yourself.”

“I do.” Edward frowned. “You tell me you’re protected.”

“I am.”

“Yet someone, or more than one, breached your defenses on the night of your espousal, Hugh.”

Hugh glowered. It stung to know he’d let his guard down to some degree, even when he’d thought to have covered every hole
a foe might find. More than one MacKay had come to him decrying the deed that almost finished him. His people would go to
battle in an instant if they discovered who his assailant had been. Hugh would never let them. He would handle the dog himself.

It’d become borne upon him in the long days of convalescence, when he’d had time to ponder the deed, that the enemy could’ve
been within the confines of the MacKay holding, even as his bride had been. Had the small army of Welshmen who’d accompanied
Morrigan to his lowland holding been hiding the would-be assassin?
Had the perpetrator been among other guests? Reason told him it was probable. A gut voice protested his wife would have had
no part in the attempt on his life. He’d pulled apart more than one scenario, studying it, then another. His research was
enough to absolve his wife of any blame. She’d put herself at great risk, medicating him, letting Diuran know what she was
doing. His wife had courage—The royal’s throat-clearing drew his attention. “I was thinking of Morrigan,” Hugh explained.

Edward smiled, shaking his head. “What a boon I’ve given you.”

“You have.”

Edward hesitated. “You don’t think her culpable? Able to be part of the assassination attempt?”

Hugh drew in air, taking his time. “She risked much to save me when she might’ve made myriad excuses about my death. My people
are not that easily duped. They’ve had years of survival training when our entire clan was threatened. They suspect most persons
unless they are blood kin. Still, they trust her. I trust her.”

Edward nodded. “You don’t know the culprit, do you, or have an inkling of his identity?”

Hugh shook his head. “I will, no matter how long it takes.” He eyed the king. “An unforeseen happenstance saved me, and my
wife. I won’t let either of us suffer such a brush with death in the future.”

Edward cocked a brow in query. “ ’Twould seem you think a miracle occurred.”

“Not far wrong. If I believed in such, I would label this one as miracle.”

“Explain.”

“Had she taken some of the same brew, at the time I did, we’d have both gone down into deep malady. No one would’ve heard
our groans through the heavy door. Even if they had they could’ve been too late to save us, or not had the knowledge to counteract
the poisons.”

Edward inclined his head. “There’s truth in what you say.”

Hugh nodded.

Edward rubbed his chin. “Even so most wouldn’t have intruded at the sound, figuring that the bride and groom had begun their
pleasures anon,” Edward said in sour humor.

Hugh grimaced, his head jerking up and down in rough assent. “And none would’ve attended us until it was too late.”

Edward steepled his hands and looked at Hugh. “And the word went out you were dead.”

Hugh nodded. “Not just my godmother heard this. Throughout the Highlands—”

“And England—”

“—the messengers went far and wide. Someone planned my end with great care, and the announcement to all and sundry.” He frowned.

“What?”

“I’m still not convinced who the target was.”

Edward frowned. “ ’Twas you.”

“Or ’twas Morrigan… and mayhap the boy.”

“Why? The boy would not taste your spirits.”

“What if some was given to him as medicine after we were taken care of?”

“ ’Tis farfetched, Hugh. What has the lad? Naught but the name of Llywelyn. True it has the power of persuasion in Wales,
its personages listened to in all considerations of how Wales does business. It ends there, for there’s little else for him
to inherit, except through his mother. Her monies and holding will be his. That would not compare to the Llywelyn brothers’
holdings.”

Hugh shrugged. “Not so. He’s my heir… in part.”

Edward frowned. “There is that, but what of your wife?”

“What of my wife?” The vision of Morrigan rose before him, in his bed, spread beneath his gaze, her warm creamy skin her only
cover.

“She has little of value, though she is regent of Trevelyan…” Edward’s eyes narrowed. “You think this endangered her? On your
spousal day? She requested the regency.”

“I know. To my knowledge there is no one who would contest her right to be such, nor think her claim without merit.” He glowered.
“I will admit the thought preys upon me.”

Edward sighed. “I cannot see the danger there. In estates that lie fallow for generations, in much of Wales, it is regnant
populus, not regnant rex, that assumes
power.” Edward’s smile twisted when Hugh’s harsh laugh cut through his words.

“ ’Tis true. Many are as independent as my wife.”

Edward grimaced. “Those wild and woolly Celts rule themselves in that iron countryside.”

Hugh shrugged. “What they do in that godforsaken land matters little to me unless they mount a force against MacKays.”

“And your king, surely,” Edward offered, his tones dry.

“Surely.” Hugh’s voice was touched with the same irony.

Edward’s lips tightened. “I would need to know, at once, if they mounted a campaign. Any hesitation in countering could cost
much.” He showed his teeth. “English Edward would foster such a move to bring me to heel.”

“Your people who move among the Celts would tell you of such.”

Edward’s lemon smile acknowledged the hit. There wasn’t much Hugh MacKay didn’t know about the goings on throughout the land.
“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you would know about the network of spies I’ve had to spread through the countries and holdings
abutting the royal ones? Mayhap your wife would tell us about the underground of Wales.”

“Mayhap my wife could have loyalty to her own. She’s not been in Scotland that long that she should eschew
all her past life and loved ones,” Hugh pointed out, his tone even.

Edward nodded. “And you wouldn’t push her to do?”

“No.”

Edward’s mouth twisted in a smile. “I would not dice with your spouse. She fears nothing and chances all.”

Hugh nodded, a shiver of trepidation washing over him as he recalled her in the sea trying to reach Rhys. “Too plucky by half.”

“What means this?”

Hugh related the tale of her daring.

“I would think on this.” Edward scowled. “Perhaps ’twasn’t an accident that the Viking water dog was there. Such a thing could
entice any lad—”

“I’ve pondered such a happening.”

Edward ground his teeth. “In one fell swoop the boy and the woman could be gone, pulled to Poseidon’s castle by the tides.
The blame could’ve been aimed my way…” Edward faltered at the rage on Hugh’s face. “I would not have you think I’m not mindful
of what a loss it would’ve been to you.”

“Greater than you know.” Hugh had no illusions about Edward’s order of importance. His survival as king surmounted any obstacle,
preceded any other venture in priority. Hugh’s first thoughts were still the MacKay clan. These had expanded to include one
glowing-eyed wife, twins, and one mischievous son. He’d never thought about commitment except to clan. Since the advent of
Morrigan and her son his attitudes
on much had changed, including fatherhood and being a husband.

“If there is chicanery among the Welsh, if there’s a plan abroad to sacrifice the woman so that they could undermine my throne—”

“If any come at Morrigan, from any direction, there will be war, and I’ll lead it,” Hugh vowed. “There’ll be no holding back.
None will survive the assaults Mac-Kays will make on those who’ve threatened my lady. That’s my covenant.”

Edward studied his greatest warrior. Even he, who trusted MacKay, quivered under the threat. “Please believe I do understand.”

Hugh eyed his monarch through a red haze of fury, his mind turmoiled at the thought of his wife and his three children in
peril. “I’ll not tarry long with you. We’ll make our plan and then I return to MacKay.”

Edward nodded.

“Milady, I think I see horsemen yonder, though I know not the insignia,” Diuran remarked, his voice low.

Morrigan stretched in her stirrups. “I think ’twould be Welsh, though I’m not sure. Unless the sun fools me, I see the green
and black of my family’s guidon… and perhaps one other.” She smiled when she saw MacKays come out of the woods surrounding
the cortege. “We are ready for all who come at us, are we not, Diuran?”

He chuckled, settling his arms over his steed’s neck. “That we are.”

She laughed and cantered around him, checking to see that Rhys and Eamon were at her back.

Eamon allowed Rhys to follow his mother, then pulled up next to Diuran. “And did you hear how she referred to MacKays as Us?”

Diuran nodded, grinning at his cousin. “She is a wonder, our lady is. No wonder the laird cherishes her as he does.”

Eamon nodded, his eyes on Rhys. “And he is going to be a great MacKay, as will be Conal.”

“To be sure.”

“I believe little Avis will grow to be a most comely lady.” Eamon reddened when Diuran laughed.