Free Song of the Highlands: The Cambels (The Medieval Highlanders) by K.E. Saxon Page A

have no right to give her a decree such
as that! I am her guardian and she must do as I dictate!”
    “She is my betrothed. From this day forward,
you have no right to her.” Robert’s heart pounded in his chest. What am I saying? He wasn’t going to wed the lass—he
had to find an heiress for his clan! On the cusp of that
thought, he saw a blur of white hair pass next to him. When he
looked, he saw the daubs of blood that stained the back of
Morgana’s pale gray gown, and was livid. After that, no matter how
he tried, the words would not rise up in him to negate his previous
statement. He was in deep, deep, deep , trouble.
    * * *
    Guy shoved the velvet purse filled with most
of the coin he’d gained from the tournaments these past sennights,
along with a rolled scroll, into the young novice’s hand. “Take
these directly to the King. He’ll have audience with you
immediately if you say you’ve a missive from me.”
    The youth nodded and tucked both in the
billowing sleeves of his habit before turning and making his way on
foot down the path leading to the abbey at Scone, where the King
held court.
    ‘Twould be well past nones by the time the
novice arrived at his destination, but Guy’s conscience and pride
were soothed by the knowledge that by nightfall, not only would
Morgana be well out from under her uncle’s iron-fisted sway and
under the protection of both her betrothed and the King, but that
Guy would have at last paid the debt he owed to the MacVie clan for
his part in their financial ruin due to his youthful dalliance with
the lovely Isobail.
    * * *
    “So, you wish to wed the lady Morgana
Cambel?” King William asked Robert late that evening. Robert was on
one knee at the base of the King’s throne in the royal court
chamber. His liege had sent forth a decree to Robert that he wished
to meet with him after dinner.
    Robert had a yawning dread that the King may
have reconsidered even the three moons he’d given him to repay his
debt and would now tell him that he wanted the payment in full
forthwith.
    But this question he’d asked gave him
pause.
    “Aye, my lord King, I do.” Tho’ he still had
no idea how he could do it and still pay his debts. His clan was
going to kill him. Beat him, flay him, roast him o’er a spit, fire
flaming arrows into him, then kill him.
    And he’d help them.
    King William nodded his head. His red hair
had long turned to gray, but there was still a youthful, yet
speculative, twinkle in the old man’s sharp gaze. “Because the
lady’s uncle demands it?”
    Robert swallowed hard. “Nay, sire.”
    King William’s eyes narrowed. “Because you love the lady?”
    Robert’s heart began to thud. What was King
William’s purpose? Would he scorn the match? A thrill of relief
coursed through him. But then, immediately on its heels, came
remorse and an even stronger sense of purpose. He would not leave
Morgana in the violent hands of her nearly mad uncle. “Nay, sire,”
he answered honestly. He dared not lie to his liege. “But I like
her well. As she does me, I trow.”
    King William settled back in his chair.
“Donnach told me he found the two of you hidden away in a hunter’s
cot up in the hills. Is this true?”
    “Aye, sire.”
    King William studied the nails on his
beringed right hand. “And did you force the lady?”
    “Nay, sire.”
    The king looked at him. “But you did tup
her?”
    Robert cleared his throat. “Aye, sire.”
    King William smiled. “Well then. I see no
reason for the wedding not to take place as Donnach has arranged.
We’ll leave for the chapel at the morrow’s dawn.” He rubbed his
hands together. “Now, I do believe I’ve a wedding gift for you that
you’ll not forswear.” He paused, a jolly grin splitting his
countenance. “I’ve decided to forgive a portion of your debt,
Robert MacVie. Exactly half, in fact.”
    Robert’s heart began to race so rapidly, he
grew dizzy.
    “And the remainder you may pay me o’er the
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