The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(10)

She burst into the room. “Sir Adam, what news of—”

But the rest of the question fell abruptly from her lips when she realized he had not come alone. Her eyes widened. The Bishop of St. Andrews? What was William Lamberton doing here? The former Scottish patriot, who most thought responsible for Robert Bruce’s bid for the crown, had been imprisoned by the first Edward for over a year before making peace with the second last year and given partial freedom in the diocese of Durham. In her mind, Lamberton was inextricably connected to the war.

Unease wormed its way through her excitement. She suspected, even before she heard what he had to say, that the day she’d feared had just arrived.

After a quick exchange of greetings, it didn’t take the men long to tell her what they wanted. Her legs wobbled. She fell to the bench, which was fortunately behind her, in shock. Just like that, the walls of the life she’d built for herself came crashing down.

Part of her had known this day would come. As the daughter of a Scottish earl and the widow of another—even one hanged for treason—she was too valuable an asset to ignore forever.

But she hadn’t expected this. Nay, she couldn’t do it.

She stared at Sir Adam, her fingers clenched in the black wool of her gown. “The king wishes me to go to Scotland?”

Her old friend nodded. “To Dunstaffnage Castle in Lorn. Bruce”—the Scottish barons who’d sided with the English refused to call him King Robert—“is holding the Highland Games there next month.”

Mary knew the former MacDougall castle well. She’d been there once with her husband years ago on a visit to his sister who had married the MacKenzie chief and resided at Eileen Donan Castle, which wasn’t too far away.

“You will be part of our truce delegation,” the bishop added. Mary couldn’t believe the king would grant the recently released prelate—and man so closely tied to Bruce—permission to go to Scotland and negotiate on his behalf. It was like handing the prisoner the keys and telling him to make sure to lock up after himself. Unlike her, Lamberton didn’t have a son in England to ensure his “loyalty.”

“The king has granted permission for you to represent the young earl’s interests,” Sir Adam explained.

Mary eyed him sharply. Surely Edward had to see the futility in sending her to plead on her son’s behalf for lands in Scotland? With a few notable exceptions such as the Balliols, Comyns, and MacDougalls, Robert Bruce had taken great care not to forfeit the lands of the earls and barons who still stood against him like Davey, in the hopes of eventually bringing them back into the fold and winning their allegiance. But neither would he recognize the claim—and the right to the rents—for those who refused to do him homage. Essentially, they were at a stalemate. Davey was a Scottish earl in name without the lands in Scotland to show for it.

Edward had to realize she would have little hope of success—not while David remained in England. There had to be another reason. “Is that all?”

Sir Adam’s mouth thinned, unable to hide his displeasure. “He knows how fond Bruce is of you.”

Ah, so that was it! Edward wanted her to spy. Aware that the bishop seemed to be watching her intently, she kept her expression impassive. “How fond he used to be of me. I have not seen my former brother-in-law in many years. Even were I inclined,” which she was not, “he’s hardly likely to confide in me.”

“I told him as much,” Sir Adam said with a shrug as if to say, but you know the king. Fortunately, she didn’t, and had done her best to keep it that way. “But Edward is determined that a woman join our group. He thinks a feminine voice would set the right tone for our negotiations, and who better than Bruce’s former sister by marriage?”

More like, who could be counted on to return? “So I’m to soften him up to accept Edward’s terms, is that it?”

Lamberton couldn’t quite bite back his smile at her blunt assessment. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“I thought you would be pleased,” Sir Adam said, studying her with a worried frown on his face. It was an expression she’d grown quite used to over the past few years.

“I am,” she said automatically. She knew she should be. Three years ago she’d wanted nothing more than to go home. But she was surprised to realize there was a part of her that didn’t want to go. A large part of her that didn’t want to stir up painful memories.

There was nothing left for her in Scotland. Her brother Duncan had died with Bruce’s brothers over two years ago in the failed landing at Loch Ryan when Bruce made his bid to retake his crown. All that remained of her family was her son and her nephew, the five-year-old current Earl of Mar, who had been captured with his mother, Bruce’s sister, and the rest of the queen’s party at Tain. But both of them were in England. Like her son, the young Earl of Mar was a favored prisoner in Edward’s household.

But why now? Why after nearly three years had the king decided to notice her? Just when she’d found some small modicum of peace far from the battlefield of war and politics, he wanted to drag her back in. Resentment she hadn’t even realized she had came bursting forward. Hadn’t they taken enough from her? Why couldn’t they just leave her alone?

Aware that both men were watching her with troubled expressions, and knowing she didn’t have the words to explain what she was feeling, she attempted to cover her reaction. “I was merely hoping you’d brought other news.”