King David slapped both his palms against the dark wood of the table and grinned. “By God, I think ye do have some wits, after all.”
“Aye, Sire, thank ye, Sire.” The guard’s face was now red as a beet.
David pointed at the young man. “Dunnae ye ever forget, the fewer people who ken my plot, the better. Can ye remember that, Farquort?”
The guard blinked in surprise, likely at the king knowing and using his given name. The young man appeared to grow in height. “I pledge nae to ever forget it,” Farquort said, his tone now strong with the sense of importance the king had managed to give him by simply knowing who he was.
That was the thing about David. He was wickedly smart and surprising, and underlying his maneuverings for his kingdom was his real regard for his subjects, though he would manipulate them, without a moment of pause, for what he considered the greater good of Scotland.
“Farquort, ye will tell Bullard that the bargain is accepted, and I’ll expect him to denounce my nephew publicly and make his support of me kenned immediately, by word and deed.”
The guard nodded. “Any particular deed, Sire?”
“Aye. He already kens what is required.”
Brodee cleared his throat, hoping to draw the king’s attention, as he did not know the terms himself. The king’s gaze fell on Brodee. “Ye desire to ken the terms I gave Bullard?”
“Aye. I dunnae wish to be uninformed,” Brodee said.
Or wed, but that wish is hopeless now.
“Off with ye, Farquort,” the king commanded, holding to his comment that the fewer people privy to his plans, the better.
Once the guard had left the room, the king continued. “After ye get yer new home in order, ye’ll join forces with Bullard to take back the Gordon stronghold.”
A suspicion rose in Brodee’s mind, one he hoped was wrong. “Surely, ye dunnae trust Bullard to help stop another enemy simply because he weds his daughter to me?”
A dark look crossed the king’s face. Whether because of the thought of treachery or because Brodee was questioning his decision, Brodee couldn’t say. David swiped a hand over his jaw, his nostrils flaring. “I will trust him as much as I trust any man who was formerly aligned against me unless he proves I should nae trust him at all. He is the one who warned us that Kincaide and his men would try to overcome me on my trip to Edinburgh.”
The desire to point out that Bullard may well have sacrificed Kincaide to gain something greater, like King David’s favor, made Brodee’s teeth ache, but he clenched them together to hold in the words. David would not like his decisions being questioned—twice—in front of so many others.
“I’m pleased ye’ve accepted my gifts of land and wife.” The king did look pleased. With himself.
Brodee could do no more than nod. His thoughts were locked on his impending marriage. Was Lady Kincaide a viper like her father? It didn’t matter. Brodee would wed her because he had to in order to get what he desired. He had no doubt if he refused the lass, being laird of the castle would not be his for the taking. The king was a prideful man who did not like to be rejected, and he would surely consider Brodee not wanting half of what the king offered him a rejection.
“Ye will be my eyes, as always, Blackswell,” David added.
Brodee nodded. There was no choice but to do so. He’d hoped once he had land that he could have peace, but it seemed peace would have to wait.
The king picked up his goblet then, took a swig of wine, and stared for a long moment over the rim at Brodee. “Bullard specifically requested ye for his daughter.”
“Requested?” Brodee asked, frowning. “This was Bullard’s proposal?” Warning bells sounded in his mind.
“I was already decided upon giving ye the land, but then Bullard approached me and said he wished to pledge his fealty to me and offered his daughter for ye, my most valuable warrior, as proof of his intentions.”
The warning bells became near deafening. “Sire—”
The king shook his head. “I already told ye,” he said, his voice grave, “I trust him as much as any man who was once my enemy and now claims to be my ally. And ye are even less trusting than I am, so all will be well.”
Brodee nodded, a feeling of impending treachery making him tense.
“I accepted his pledge of fealty, of course,” David continued, “but told him I’d need deeds to prove it beyond the offer of his daughter, which I took for ye.”
The king took another swig of wine, and the pause, Brodee knew, was intended for him to show his gratitude yet again. “Thank ye, Sire.”
David inclined his head. “’Tis the least I could do for ye after all ye have given to me. Now then,” the king boomed, apparently pleased that Brodee was appropriately grateful. “Once his daughter and his pledge were accepted, I told him what else I required.” He chuckled. “I dunnae believe he expected me to require him to go on a siege with ye.”
“Hopefully, he’ll nae try to kill me during it. Or mayhap he simply intends to use his daughter to spy on me,” Brodee said, unable to contain his doubts any longer. Damned the punishment if the king became angry that he’d voiced his concerns. He’d rather be alive and in the king’s disfavor than dead because he’d not wanted to incur the king’s ire.
