The King's Rebel

by Morrison, Michelle

  William looked sharply at his cousin. He’d told Robert little enough of his ill-fated romance, had not even mentioned Meghan’s name, though he may have revealed her clan...Surely the man was not serious!

  For her part, Meghan looked as if she were torn. Did William not know how strong her loyalties, he’d have sworn she considered giving up her virtue an easier offer than whatever she had in mind.

  Lennox chose this moment to find his voice. “No!” he boomed, startling everyone. “Her virtue is hers. Hers and her husband’s.”

  “You are married?” Robert asked and William inadvertently held his breath, awaiting the answer.

  “Nay,” Meghan answered softly.

  “Nay, but she’s betrothed to Torquil Comyn.”

  “Indeed?” Robert said and cast a quick glance at William who returned the look, stone-faced.

  Robert turned back to the Innes girl, his voice hard and uncompromising. “So I’m to free both my greatest enemy’s son and his strongest supporter? Out of some misplaced devotion to a fellow Scot? Do you think I’m daft?” he asked sharply.

  Meghan looked as if she were about to either cry or scream. Placing her hands on the table, she stood. “I shall think ye daft only if ye don’t accept my offer.” She held up her hand to forestall the king’s outrage.

  “I offer ye not my virtue, but my clan.”

  “What?” Robert said.

  “I offer Clan Innes’ support of your claim to the throne of Scotland. I pledge our loyalty to the Bruces and our fealty to your crown. Never again shall we oppose your claim to the throne. Always will we stand for you as our king. All this I offer in return for my father’s life.”

  William studied her pale face and then turned his gaze to his cousin. It was a weighty offer, William knew. To free Scotland of that much more internal strife would only make her stronger against foreign invaders: namely Edward of England. Still, could an Innes, and an Innes woman at that, be trusted? William returned his scrutiny to Meghan, seeing her as if for the first time, looking beyond her beauty to try and read the workings of her mind.

  “And who are you to make such an offer?” Robert asked. “You are only a woman.”

  “I am my father’s heir!” Meghan protested hotly.

  Robert looked to Lennox. “It is true,” her uncle replied. “But if it will convince you, I offer the pledge as well.”

  “No!” Meghan told her uncle. “I am the Innes heir! He will accept my word or he will accept nothing!” She turned to Robert. “You will accept my word or you will reject the offer.”

  Robert propped his elbows on the arms of his chair and hid his lips behind steepled fingers. He regarded her impassively.

  Knowing his visage would not be watched, William allowed admiration and respect to color his expression. For a moment, he forgot the betrayal and hurt that lay between him and Meghan and instead regarded her for her strength, her conviction, her absolute confidence. For a wild moment, William considered the marriage they might have had. He ran his hand along the rough table until he found a splinter and purposely ran the splinter deep into his palm. He was ten kinds of fool for even thinking such thoughts! Robert would be wise to mistrust this young vixen, and did his cousin ask his council, William would tell him so.

  Turning his attention to the wood embedded in his hand, William did not see the king drop his hands and stand. He looked up as his cousin spoke.

  “I will think on your offer and give you my answer in the morning.”

  “But–-“ Meghan began.

  “I bid you good night,” he said, and sat back down.

  William watched in amusement as the proud Meghan realized she had just been dismissed. As she turned to leave, however, her gaze fell on his mocking expression and for a brief moment, William could have sworn he saw naked pain in her hazel eyes. The impression was gone as quickly as a spark in a hearth and she lifted her chin further and marched out of the hall.

  Chapter 8

  Meghan’s hands shook as she undressed in the small closet of a room she had been assigned. She did not take having her own sleeping chamber as a sign of honor. Indeed, were she a valued and honored guest, she would be preparing to pass the night in the no doubt luxurious chamber of one of King Robert’s sisters. Neither was she a guest of little rank, however, or she would be sleeping in a curtained alcove off the main hall. Clearly the Bruce did not know what to make of her and if he did not wish to give her false hope, he certainly did not want to give offense either.

  It was not the sleeping arrangements that caused Meghan to shake, nor was it the cold, for the storm that had chilled her for most of her journey had blown out, leaving a cool but gentle summer evening in its wake.

  No, there were precisely two reasons why Meghan had difficulty untying the laces of her gown and she absolutely refused to think of one of them.

  Instead, she relived the swordless duel in which she had engaged with Robert the Bruce. Meghan smiled as she plaited her hair. She had been ill prepared to do verbal battle with the King of Scotland, and yet she had demanded he take her seriously, forced him to at least consider her offer as one made by a worthy adversary. She had stood her claim as her father’s heir and King Robert had accepted it! Of course, he may still refuse her offer, sending her home in shame and her father to the gallows...Meghan quickly pushed the thought from her mind.

  She climbed between the chilly sheets and rubbed her legs back and forth to dispel the cold and create a small pocket of warmth. She snuffed the tallow candle and lay back, staring at the moonlit planks of her chamber’s ceiling. The boards creaked beneath someone’s tread–-a sentry on watch or perhaps another chamber. When she and her uncle had arrived, she’d been too anxious to pay more than a glancing notice at the king’s keep.

  “I am the Innes heir!” Meghan closed her eyes and heard again the words she had called out, fierce as any battle cry. And then, confronting the King of Scotland, the king! “You will accept my word or you will reject the offer.” Did she dare to say such words in such a tone to her father, she would have received a backhanded slap across her insolent mouth and a warning that she was only a woman and should remember her place. Meghan opened her eyes. She would have received punishment instead of respect from her father.

  She flopped onto her stomach to avoid the disloyal idea, seeking anything to take her mind from the dangerous thoughts that were pooling deep within her. Her father was not a harsh man, not really. He just expected nothing less than excellence from those around him. But that small, insolent voice that had stood up to the Bruce now demanded that she see her father for the tyrant he was.

  “Alright!” she hissed aloud. “But surely after I win his freedom and save his life, he’ll hold me worthy and not be so quick to catch my faults.” Empty silence greeted this proclamation and Meghan worried that her father might be so enraged at how she gained his freedom, he would never forgive her. She buried her face in the covers. Tyrant or no, she did love her father. Being part of a clan meant that her extended family was huge, but her father and her uncle were her only close family still alive. She would rescue him and then convince him that they were better off fighting with Robert Bruce than against him. Her father was not a stupid man. He would see reason. He must–-

  Rolling onto her side, Meghan curled up into a ball. She would not think of her father any more tonight. To do so would accomplish nothing but a sleepless night and she had to be well rested in the morn should the king demand another round of intellectual combat.

  Unfortunately, the only other thing on Meghan’s mind was the man she least wanted to think about, aside from her father. Black William had been there this evening. She’d tried to ignore him, done a good job at it too, she commended herself. Yet she had known he was just a table’s length away the entire evening. Her palms itched with the knowledge, her stomach tightened, even her hair crackled with the tension his presence caused her. He had lounged in his chair as if he attended a meadow picnic, his inky hair pulled off
his face in tight plaits, his green eyes hooded beneath his brow, scarcely glancing at her. Only there at the end had Black William looked at her, really looked at her, with amusement in his eyes. Amusement and something else–-Meghan would have said admiration had she not known exactly what kind of man he was.

  Meghan flung back the rumpled covers as if she was being stifled by their weight. She stared at the ceiling again, listening for creaks. She glanced at the narrow window, but the moon had hidden her face behind a cloud and Meghan could discern nothing that was not as thick and black as William’s hair. There was nothing, nothing to keep her mind from that damned man with his damned handsome face and his damned lips which seemed to mock her with memories of their shared kisses.

  He had sat there through the meal as if there had never been anything between them while she fretted nervously, picking at her food. Her heart pounded with tension, and not all of it had to do with her mission before the king.

  Did their encounter at the Mayday celebration mean nothing? Meghan had silently fumed while her uncle devoured her portion of the trencher after his own. He had asked to marry her after all! How could he act as though they were complete strangers?

  That was it, of course, Meghan told herself in the quiet darkness. He was only acting, just as she herself had schooled herself to act as though he meant nothing to her. The thought should have eased Meghan’s mind, but instead it made her more anxious. For Black William had been far more successful at hiding his emotions that she had. Meghan tossed and turned on that failing for several hours. Finally, disgusted with all men and cursing them for ruining her life, Meghan fell asleep.

  ***

  In the morning, she dressed carefully and combed her hair smooth. She had only the one gown–-they’d had to travel fast and light, after all—-but she had brushed the road dust from it and if it was not as beautiful as those she’d seen on the ladies of the castle, it would not shame her either. She licked her dry lips and wished she had some piece of ornamentation, a brooch or a necklace, perhaps. Something that would proclaim her rank and demand respect. Her father, of course, thought such trifles were a waste of the precious metals needed for swords and other such weapons. She had her mother’s silver necklace of course, but in the haste of leaving, she’d not remembered to pack it. Meghan ran a hand over her smooth locks. Well, she thought, there was no point in delaying. It was time to face the lion (lions, she reminded herself) in his den. Again.

  Downstairs, she found her uncle hard at work devouring a joint of goose and a loaf of bread. He drained his mug, laughed at a joke made by his table-partner, and continued his meal.

  The Bruce was not in the hall. Meghan realized this with a disappointment as keen as her relief that neither was Black William.

  “Uncle,” she said.

  “Aye? Ah, good mornin’ to ye, lass. Will ye break your fast with us?”

  Meghan shivered at the sight of the greasy fowl. “Have ye heard when the Bru—when the king will give us his answer?”

  Lennox shook his head, tearing off a large bite in the process. “Nay,” he said around a mouthful. “But he’s a court set for later this afternoon. I suppose our business will be attended to then.”

  Meghan closed her eyes and sighed. Too much could happen by this afternoon. Robert could decide he did not need her family’s support after all. He could decide to let her father die and hold her hostage for her clan’s cooperation. He could kill her and Lennox himself and leave clan Innes leaderless and fragmented. Or worse, she could run into Black William.

  The worst wasn’t as bad as she had expected, as it turned out.

  She was standing out in the bailey beside her uncle watching two of Robert’s knights combat training on horseback. Her own father had prided himself on his clan’s strength on horseback, but the king’s knights made the deadly battle seem a dance of beast and man, axe and sword, cudgel and shield. Her uncle Lennox clearly thought so too.

  “‘Tis lucky we did not to have face the Bruce and his men in battle,” he said out of the side of his mouth so that none but her ears would catch the words.

  “Should he accept our proposal, we needs never face such odds.”

  Lennox started to nod and then shrugged. “Unless we fight the English. Then those soldiers without horses will be ridden down like wheat before the hoe.”

  Meghan frowned. She had not considered until now that should King Robert accept the offer of her family’s loyalty in return for saving her father’s life, her clan would be pledged to follow him into battle, should he and the English king ever come to war. She took a deep breath and tried to release her worries with it. The whole reason she and Lennox were here was because of Robert’s friendship with his fellow sovereign. Surely she need not fear for the lives of the Innesbrook men just yet.

  “You are to attend the king immediately,” said a deep, familiar voice.

  Meghan felt goosebumps rise on her arms and she willed herself to turn slowly around, as if she expected only a servant to be delivering the message.

  She need not have bothered for all she saw as she finally looked behind her was the vision of William’s broad back disappearing into the main hall.

  “The king has summoned us,” she said, tugging on Lennox’s sleeve.

  “Uhm? Oh, aye. Let us discover if we must plan a break-out from Edward’s tower.”

  Meghan smiled at her uncle’s attempt to pretend that they had alternatives should Robert decline their offer.

  Once inside, she saw that William’s assertion that they would be seen immediately was optimistic to say the least. The hall was crowded with villeins and noblemen alike. If there was an order to the proceedings, Meghan was at a loss to discover it. As soon as one supplicant had finished his petition or complaint or oath, another took his place with apparent disregard for rank, status, or place in line.

  “We could be here all night,” she told her uncle and sank down onto a rough wooden bench at the back of hall where she heard in her impetuous mind Black William’s deep voice saying not to come inside, but instead, “Dance with me, Meghan.”

  Lost in her musings, Meghan did not see the object of her daydream stalk up the hall and jerk his chin at her, indicating that she should approach the king. Instead, she stared moodily at the rush-strewn floor.

  “If ye have not a care for your father’s sorry hide, at least have the decency not to keep the King of the Scots waiting.” William’s acidic tone burned Meghan’s ears and she quickly stood, composing her features into haughty indifference to the king’s cousin. She glanced behind her to make sure Lennox was following her and then turned and wended her way between the crowds of people to the front of the hall.

  Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland sat his throne as imperious as any English king, or French too, for that matter.

  “Your Majesty,” she finally squeaked out, realizing she had neglected to curtsey or even nod her head in obeisance.

  “Heir to clan Innes,” he replied evenly and Meghan was suddenly so grateful to him for at least taking her seriously that she almost cared not if he rejected her plea. What was she thinking? Of course she cared. Still, she curtsied deeply and as gracefully as her unpracticed legs would allow.

  “I am, Your Majesty.”

  “As your sovereign, I have every right to expect your loyalty with or without your pledge. Should you refuse it, I have the right, as king, to punish you for withholding it.”

  Meghan felt her knees threaten to buckle. Surely she had not come all this way for nothing! She frantically sought to come up with a plan that did not require Robert’s good graces. So intent was she that Lennox had to jab her in the ribs to return her attention to the king.

  “I am, however, a king who would rather accept the good will and support of his people without force.”

  The hardness of the Bruce’s gaze did not suggest he cared for his subject’s good will, but Meghan took heart, nonetheless. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she croaked.

  “To that en
d, I accept your pledge of clan Innes’s support.”

  To her dismay, Meghan thought he was through with her and she turned to Lennox, desperate to know if this meant the king would help them or not.

  “Do not turn your back on the king,” William hissed.

  Meghan’s head snapped around and she looked wide-eyed first at William and then at the king.

  Robert continued as if she had not insulted him, in fact, as if he were already bored with the proceedings.

  “To aid my loyal supporter, Oengus Innes, I will write a letter to my royal cousin in England, asking for his release.”

  Meghan closed her eyes with a sigh of relief.

  “To convince Edward of the import of my request, I will send one of my closest advisors, William, to further plead Oengus’ case.”

  Meghan opened her eyes in disbelief. William had no incentive to beg for her father’s life! She started to protest when Robert spoke again.

  “And because you have proved so persuasive in your presentation of your case, I command you Meghan Innes, as my now loyal subject, to accompany my kinsman to London, there to convince King Edward that your father’s release—“ he paused dramatically. “And your future husband’s release as well.” He paused for the merest moment before continuing. “Where was I? Ah yes, to convince the English king that it is in his best interest to free his Scots prisoners.”

  “What?!” Meghan and William said in unison.

  But Robert merely gestured to his seneschal who called out, “Next!”

  Chapter 9

  “Misbegotten son of a dung-ridden sheep,” William muttered under his breath as he stormed out of the main hall.