Warrior's Bride (27 page)

  "A new title? A change in rank? My, who did you have to kill to receive such a promotion?" Wolf kept his tone casual, bored. He cared not a whit about the man or any of the reasons why he had been moved from such a lowly position in his father's court to one of extreme rank. Nay, what he did care about was time—stalling to buy more of it in order to get himself and his men out of their current predicament.

  "The king would have a word with you," Artemis commanded, his sword at the ready. Arrows or swords, both would be lethal once unleashed.

  The sound of the bagpipes faded into the distance, replaced by the creaking of leather as the horses shifted beneath the weight of Wolf’s men. The tension in the air sharpened. Wolf could see from the corners of his eyes as his own men grasped the hilts of their swords, ready to fight at the slightest inclination of his head. Anger tightened Wolf's gut. "So it has all been a ploy to get me to come to his aid."

  Artemis shrugged. "I do not presume to know what goes through the king's mind. He has summoned me to bring you to him, and that I shall do. We can do this peacefully, or more of your men can fall. Which is it to be?"

  Mercilessly Wolf gripped the reins in his hands, the leather biting into his palms. "He killed and injured my warriors, not Grange."

  "The king did what he had to do in order to bring you here." Artemis raised his sword to strike.

  Wolf tensed as he darted a gaze to his left, to his right, searching for some way out. The horse beneath him sensed his mood: its flanks tightened, its nostrils flared. Damn his father for deceiving him again.

  If it came to a battle, Wolf held the tactical advantage from atop his horse. But that would not protect his men from the arrow volleys.

  Bile rose in his throat as he forced a bow of acquiescence. He signaled his men to stand down and to fall in behind him. "Shall we?" he stated more as a challenge than as consent as he maneuvered his horse purposefully down the slope toward the king's encampment.

  This time his father had gone too far.

  The night sky darkened with angry rain clouds, and flashes of lightning darted across the sky. A storm threatened both in the heavens above and here on the ground. Wolf tensed as he waited outside the tent, listening as the lieutenant announced his arrival. Footsteps sounded on the other side of the oiled cloth. The flap swished aside and a pale light spilled from within. "You may enter."

  Wolf stepped inside the king's domain. The lieutenant followed him inside. Standing as guardian beside the doorway, he drew his sword.

  Wolf turned to where his father sat in a sumptuous red velvet chair that appeared out of place amid the trappings of war. "What do you want" He did not bother to disguise the anger he knew reflected in his voice.

  "Your cooperation."

  "Most men would just ask."

  "I am not most men."

  Wolf regarded the king in stony silence as he bit back another surge of disappointment. Would his father ever treat him as a beloved son, and not just as a vassal to do with as he pleased?

  The king stood, relying heavily on his cane for support. "It is time to rid ourselves of Grange."

  "You have tried that tack before without success."

  The king lifted his chin as though scenting the air, a warrior, an animal assessing his prey. "I now hold the advantage." The oiled flap flew back and another warrior entered. He stopped at the doorway until the king waved a hand for him to approach. In his grasp he held a leather pouch. Wolf recognized it immediately.

  Instant alarm creased his brow. "Where's Brahan?"

  The king accepted the pouch with a frown. "So worried about your men. That is your weakness, you know."

  Wolf’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword. "What have you done to Brahan?"

  "Stay your weapon. Your lieutenant is safe. For now." The king flipped open the pouch and pulled out Brahan's stone. He brought his gaze back to Wolf’s. " 'Tis the Stewart half. Now where is the Balliol half of the Seer's Stone?"

  Wolf stared at the broken piece of stone as if seeing it for the first time. Lord Grange had been after Brahan's stone, a stone his own father now held in his hand. The small white stone appeared broken, only part of what it should be. Wolf had never noticed that before. He could only stare at the object, and as he did another stone came to mind. Isobel's stone necklace was also small, white, and broken on one side. "What do you mean, the Balliol half?"

  The king shook his head in disgust as he stroked the smooth surface of Brahan's stone. "Did your mother never tell you of the significance of this stone? Or why she chose you, of all her children, to gift the Stone to at her death?"

  Wolf felt the hilt of his sword bite into his hand. The pain seemed to focus him as his emotions ran the gamut from anger at his father to grief over his mother. "Nay. She never told me anything other than that the Stone was meant to be used by a seer. Since our family has never had, nor wanted that ability, I passed the Stone to Brahan, whose family is famous for such talents."

  "God's toes," the king growled. "That woman did you no favors, withholding the truth."

  "My mother did what she thought was best." Wolf’s voice was laced with steel as he drew his sword. No one, not even his father, could get away with slandering his mother or her memory.

  Artemis lunged forward, positioning his body between Wolf and the king. "Withdraw your weapon or feel the thrust of mine."

  Wolf held his position. He wasn't afraid to die. It seemed entirely appropriate that he should do so at his father's feet. Their blood connection only became an issue when it served his father's purposes, such as now. The man wanted something, and Wolf knew the king would never allow his vassal to die before that purpose was fulfilled.

  "If you are both so determined to use your sword, then do so outside, while you are chasing down that scoundrel Grange," the king roared, his voice booming in the confines of the tent.

  With a twist of his wrist, Wolf sheathed his weapon. He stepped past Artemis to stand beside his father. Wolf took the Stone from his father's grasp, studying it in greater detail than he ever had before. One side of the Stone was rounded and smooth. The other was blunt, rough. The symbol etched into the top had always looked complete before, yet now it looked segmented—as if it was only half of something more.

  Wolf met his father's curious gaze. "What did you mean by the Balliol half of the Stone?"

  "That Stone is incomplete. When the two families— the Balliol and the Stewarts—battled over the throne, the high chiefs divided the Stone and gave half to each family." The king swayed on his feet, as if the memory suddenly drained him of strength. He shuffled backward toward his chair. "I must sit."

  He did look tired, and Wolf felt a moment's sympathy before he checked himself. It was probably just an act to gain sympathy. "Go on. Tired or not, you started this game. You'll see it out."

  He did not argue, merely nodded.

  "Both families were happy until they tried to use their half of the Stone. The visions were suddenly unpredictable, not as clear. And the seer who tried to use the Stone either died immediately or aged a number of years over the course of a few minutes. Fear set in, and instead of being desired, the Stones became reviled. Lesser members of the family took claim of each half of the Stone, since the need for their survival was not as great as those who stood in line for the throne."

  Wolf prickled at the comment. As a bastard child of a king, he most definitely fit that role. Yet that was never the issue between him and his father. Acceptance had always been the key—often desired, but never fulfilled.

  The king continued, unaware of the tension his words had caused. "I have always known where the Stewart half of the Stone resided, but only recently did I learn about the Balliol half. It had vanished for many years, until my spies discovered what part of the Balliol line it had been passed down to."

  Wolf kept his gaze on his father. "And now you think I have that half of the Stone. Why? Why would I have the Stone? I'm no Balliol."

  "Nay." The king smiled wickedly. "But your wife most certainly is."

 
His wife? Isobel? A Balliol?
Rage, hot and hard, pounded through Wolf. "Damn you." He clenched his jaw against the vile words he longed to say. "My marriage to Isobel," he bit out. His father had used him for his own benefit and advancement again. A Balliol? Impossible. Or was it? What had she tried to tell him before he'd left?

  The king shrugged. "It was necessary to bring me the other half of the Stone."

  "Yet you thought nothing of me—or of Isobel—in your scheming."

  The king's eyes narrowed. "You needed a wife. I gave you one. That the two houses of Scotland are united again seemed more important than your feelings on the subject."

  Wolf crossed his arms over his chest. "Now the truth comes out."

  "I did what I had to do."

  "Why do you really want the Stone?" Wolf asked fiercely, concentrating his anger on the Stone instead of the deeper issue of exactly who he had married. He would think on that later.

  A look of surprise crossed the king's face. "Because Grange wants it. He will use the Stone and its power against me."

  "So you fight your fear by creating more fear. Is that right?"

  The king's face hardened, as it always did when Wolf had pushed too far. "You know naught of what it is like to rule a country."

  "Perhaps not But I do know what it is like to have the respect and support of my men not through fear, only trust."

  The king met Wolf’s gaze with eyes as clear and cold as polished stone. "Then I trust you'll have no objection to using that connection with your men to run Grange through."

  "You might have succeeded in bringing me here, but that does not mean you have my cooperation," Wolf replied.

  "I'll have your cooperation, boy. Because if I don't it will be your beautiful new bride who will pay for your foolhardiness."

  Wolf tensed. "Isobel is safe within my castle. You cannot touch her there. You'll have to try another tack, Auld Blearie."

  The king's face turned crimson at the mention of the much-despised name. "Safety is at best an illusion. Even now, as we speak, your bride is at risk."

  Wolf’s gut tightened. "You wouldn't—"

  "I'll have your cooperation and that of your men in order to defeat my enemy."

  "Who is it?" Wolf demanded with venomous force. "Who did you plant to deceive me?"

  "That matters not."

  "Who is it?" Wolf's hand snapped out. He grasped the king beneath the chin. The old man's clear eyes became suddenly watery beneath Wolf’s assault.

  "Release ... me!"

  Artemis surged forward, but Wolf stalled him with a look as sharp as his own blade. "Another step and he dies," Wolf threatened.

  Artemis froze.

  "Who deceived me?"

  A cold and calculating look settled over the king's face. "You won't... hurt me. Or you would have ... years ago."

  Wolf clenched his jaw and considered tightening his grip on his father's throat. He had more than enough reasons to justify killing the man right here and now. Yet his fingers refused to cooperate, so he shook the man instead. "Tell me who has betrayed me. Or I might be forced to prove you wrong."

  "Your ... brother ... Walter," the king choked out.

  A terrible sense of disbelief and betrayal stole his anger, and Wolf snapped back his hand. "Walter would do no such thing. Not against me."

  The king grasped his throat and coughed as he struggled to regain his breath. "He had as much of a choice ... as you have now."

  He had a choice.
By God,
he would not be his father's vehicle any longer. "I was ready to go to war against Grange because I thought you were in danger. But now things have changed—I've changed. As much as I hate Grange, I shall not make war against him simply because you will it"

  "Aye." His father's mouth turned up in an angry grin, like a snake smiling. "You'll do that and more, because if you don't your bride will die."

  "Not even you could be that cruel."

  The king's smile broadened. "You've grown fond of the girl despite her lineage. Despite the darker secrets you have yet to learn."

  A chill pulsed through him. What did his father mean? What darker secrets? Wolf pushed the thought away. It was only more manipulation. He should know better than to buy in to that type of ploy where his father was concerned. "You've no right to toy with Isobel's life as you've always toyed with mine."

  "I'm the king. I can toy with her any way I like, but her health and welfare now depend on you." The king leaned in toward Wolf's face, relying heavily upon his cane for support. He snatched Brahan's Stone from Wolf’s hands. "Which is it to be, my son—a war or a murder? You choose."

  There was no choice. He would never allow his father to ruin Isobel's life. Not if he could stop the man. Fury welled up inside Wolf. Damn his father. "We will fight."

  His father smiled. "A wise choice." With a wave of his hand, the guards came forward and placed black iron clamps on Wolf’s wrists. "To ensure your further cooperation."