“Aye, I do,” the king said, his voice cutting like deadly steel across the air. “What will I do to those who prove false? To those who question my rule?”
“We will crush them,” Iain replied, his tone unbending.
On the dais, murmurs of agreement came from all the men, but Bridgette could not help but notice the steward shift uncomfortably. She wished she could turn to see Colin’s expression, but she could not dare. Had she just witnessed the king letting his nephew know he suspected he was not loyal? She thought she had, and unease gripped her. If the steward was plotting something, he would not be doing so alone. Who were his allies? The Campbells?
Before she could think upon it further, the king spoke again. “I hear grumbles in the air that some say I have changed during my captivity, and I tell ye, I have. Go forth with my blessing after this day and spread my words: I am nae a puppet king to be controlled by any man’s strings, noble or otherwise. I will reward faithfulness and crush those who seek to place their wills over my own, but I am just and want only what is good for Scotland. And I may well nae be sitting here today if it were nae for Colin Campbell, who has proven his worth and faithfulness to me on the road when bandits came out of the woods and tried to strike me down.”
“Do ye ken who the bandits might be, Sire?” Lachlan questioned.
“Nay, but I ken they are cowards,” the king snarled.
“Aye!” all the men who had been with the king agreed.
The king nodded. “They dunnae wear plaids to identify who they are faithful to, but I will discover it.”
When David looked directly at Lachlan, realization struck, and she had to stifle a gasp. Lachlan was pledged to marry Helena because the king suspected the steward and the Campbells were plotting against him, and he needed proof. He needed to know who else was involved.
The king turned his penetrating gaze to Bridgette. “I bid Colin to request a reward from me, and he requested yer hand.”
Was this his way of asking her what she wanted?
She opened her mouth to speak when he turned his attention to Graham. “The young MacLeod,” King David said, motioning to Graham, “made his desire to wed ye known and begged me to rethink my offer of reward.” The king leaned back in his seat. “I have thought upon it, but I kinnae see the honor in revoking my word once given.”
God’s bones! The king was going to give her to Colin to marry!
She fisted her hands by her side, wanting to screech her protest but knowing her brother would pay for her outbursts. Alex stepped forward, but before he could speak, Graham stood and moved to the center of the room.
“Where is the honor in forcing a woman to marry one man when she wishes to marry another?” Graham demanded.
Bridgette’s jaw dropped open in horror. The king rose to his feet. “Are ye questioning my honor, Graham?”
Iain rose to stand by the king. “Nay, Sire. He would never—”
“I ken how to speak for myself, Iain,” Graham growled.
Iain glared in return. “Ye dunnae ken when to stay silent, though, do ye?”
Graham’s face turned red. “I kinnae stay silent when the woman I intended to ask to be my wife is being given to another. And a man she already made known she dunnae wish to marry, at that.” Graham focused on Colin. “Dunnae ye have any pride? Why would ye wish to marry a woman who dunnae want ye?”
Bridgette barely stifled a groan at Graham’s words.
The sound of Colin’s sword being drawn made a high-pitched hiss in the room. He moved in blur to stand before Graham. Just as the man drew his sword upward to point it at Graham’s chest, Lachlan was there behind Colin, his dagger at the man’s neck. Lachlan’s face appeared calm compared to the savage snarl that twisted Colin’s lips, but the menace in Lachlan’s eyes made Bridgette shudder. He would not hesitate to kill to protect Graham, and Graham looked enraged at the fact.
Colin smiled at Lachlan and slowly lowered his sword. “My fight is nae with ye,” he said.
Contempt filled the smile Lachlan offered, even as he slowly lowered his dagger and sheathed it. “If ye intend to harm my brother, then we have a quarrel.”
“Do ye fight all the lad’s battles, then?” Colin jeered, as he stepped away from Lachlan and glanced at Graham.
Graham’s face twisted into a mask of hatred, but all that anger was focused on Lachlan. Bridgette knew the moment Lachlan realized it, as well, by the visible flinch of his body and the slight widening of his eyes. Her heart twisted in pain for both brothers—Lachlan thinking only to protect Graham, and Graham, she now saw clearly, so jealous of Lachlan that it overshadowed everything.
Graham shoved Lachlan in the chest. “I dunnae need ye to fight my battles!”
Lachlan gave a tight nod and strode back to the seat he had vacated.
Colin chuckled mirthlessly. “I’m glad to hear ye fight yer own battles, Graham MacLeod. If the king will permit”—Colin glanced toward King David, who appeared oddly contemplative, as if he might be trying to discern how to use the situation to his advantage—“let us cross swords in combat. Whoever draws first blood wins the right to Bridgette’s hand.”
“Nay!” Bridgette gasped, unable to stifle her protest. Too many times men died in such battles, and beyond that horrid fact, she did not wish to marry either man.
