The Hunter (Highland Guard #7)(32)

Did Bruce know Janet was alive? Ewen intended to find out. He closed the distance to the dais in a few steps. Though his attention was on the king, he caught the frown on the newest member of the Highland Guard’s face and suspected that Sutherland had noticed his reaction to his wife. But he would deal with him later.

The king glanced up as he approached, his brows furrowing as he took in Ewen’s dark expression. “Is something wrong?”

“I need to speak to you,” Ewen snapped; then, remembering to whom he was speaking he added, “Sire.”

“I haven’t finished my meal.”

“It’s important,” Ewen replied stiffly, though it should have been obvious. Ewen could count on one hand the times he’d asked anything of the king. He put his head down, did his job, and tried to avoid conflict. Ironic for a soldier perhaps, but making trouble had been his father’s way, not his. Another reason to avoid Sister Genna, he thought. She was nothing but conflict. And not the way to distance himself from his wild father and rebel cousin.

Bruce shot him a dark glare. “It had better be.”

Tor MacLeod, the leader of the Highland Guard, must have been watching from the other end of the table. When the king rose, he did as well.

“Alone,” Ewen said.

Bruce didn’t hide his annoyance but waved off the fierce Highland chief.

Ewen followed the king into the laird’s solar, the small room located just off the Hall, and waited for the king to take his seat in the throne-like chair. The MacDougall chief had forfeited both his chair and his castle to Bruce after his loss at the key Battle of the Pass of Brander two summers past.

“Well, what is it that couldn’t wait, Hunter?”

The king preferred to address him by his war name, even when there was no danger of his identity being discovered. The name Lamont was nearly as reviled as that of Comyn, MacDougall, or MacDowell, and it was almost as if Bruce didn’t want to remind himself of the connection.

Ewen didn’t waste any time. “Does Mary of Mar know that her sister is alive and working as a courier for Lamberton?”

The king’s lack of reaction answered Ewen’s first question: Bruce knew. “Lady Janet has been missing for over three years. How can you be so sure she is alive?”

Ewen put his palms flat on the table and leaned toward the king. “Because I spent two days escorting her to Berwick after she narrowly escaped rape at the hands of some English soldiers near Melrose Abbey.”

The king’s expression cracked at the word rape, but Robert the Bruce was every bit as fierce as his elite band of warriors, and he hadn’t dared to wrest a crown from Edward of England’s hands by showing emotion. Only someone who knew him as well as Ewen would have detected the reaction. He quickly schooled the concern from his features and drummed his fingers idly on the table. “How can you be certain it was Janet? Did she identify herself as such?”

Because Ewen could still see her damned face in his dreams. Still feel the curve of the baby-soft cheek that he’d held in his hand. Still taste the sensual mouth that had moved under his.

He was angry enough to tell Bruce exactly how he knew, but for once he curbed his tongue—albeit not completely. “You know damned well Sister ‘Genna’ is hiding her identity and pretending to be Italian. What the hell are you thinking, allowing your former sister-in-law to put herself in such danger?”

Bruce’s eyes turned flinty black. “Have care, Hunter. I’m used to your blunt manner of speaking, but I’m your king. I don’t care how good of a tracker you are, or how much Stewart believed in you; you’ll control your anger when you are talking to me or find another army to take your chances with.”

Ewen sobered at the sharp reminder—and at how thoroughly he’d forgotten himself.

Angering the king probably wasn’t the best way of going about seeing the Lamonts restored to their former glory. Discretion intervened, and although it wasn’t without some effort, Ewen managed to get a hold on his anger. “I apologize, Sire.”

Bruce stared at him intently, dark eyes hard as onyx as his fingers continued to drum ominously on the table. Another man might have started to shift, but Ewen stood perfectly still while the king decided whether to accept his apology and, apparently, weighed how much to tell him. “If you’ve met my former sister-in-law, you can probably guess that I was not consulted. She came up with the idea all on her own. I was only made aware of her survival and the part she was playing with Lamberton about a year ago when she returned from Italy, where she’d taken refuge after her attempt to rescue her sister went awry.”

That explained the Italian.

Bruce shook his head. “You have to admire the lass—she does not lack for courage in going after her sister at such a time. We were being hunted like dogs. There was no place to hide. Edward’s reign of terror was in full force; he had eyes and ears everywhere. Not even Atholl dared to attempt to reach his wife before he fled north, but Janet commandeered some of her sister-in-law Christina’s MacRuairi clansmen and sailed halfway around Scotland, riding into England bold-as-brass, to pluck her sister right out from under Edward’s nose.” One corner of his mouth lifted wryly. “It almost worked, too.”

That sounded like her all right. But the story that instilled admiration in the king only made Ewen more irate. Then, like now, the lass didn’t seem to have any concept of danger. He said as much to the king, who didn’t disagree with him.