But he couldn’t have her. Either he and Callum would return to Glennoe with nothing to show for the journey and expense, or his laird would have a new bride belonging to him alone. Then his existence would be the torture of watching the man he loved with a woman he desired; forever excluded by the little intimacies of marriage, the glances and smiles, casual touches and private conversations. Forever aware that at night Callum would use that willing tongue, eager hands, and unflagging cock to ensure a happy wife.
Once again, he would be alone.
“I know you have a special gift with swords, Lady Isla,” said Alastair abruptly, ashamed at his irritable, bitter tone yet unable to halt it. “But why do you care if my laird does not?”
She looked at him with those wide emerald eyes, but rather than flaring with affront or anger, her gaze was thoughtful. “For one reason,” she replied, her voice hushed so it didn’t carry to royal ears. “I should like to help.”
“Why?” he repeated, folding his arms and pinning her with a glare.
Lady Isla raised an eyebrow, utterly unbothered by the stance, and his admiration for her unwillingly grew. “I suspect, Master Graham, for the same reason you are so protective. I like him.”
Callum’s indrawn breath echoed in the cavernous expanse of the empty Hall, and Alastair coughed to ensure the king and queen did not grow suspicious and join them in conversation. They probably had only a few moments more to talk, then the lady would be escorted back to her family or maybe a private gathering for high-ranking courtiers.
“How do you mean…help?” whispered Callum, his brow furrowing a little. “The king specifically forbids it in the tourney rules.”
Lady Isla cast a furtive glance at James and Margaret before straightening her shoulders. “You told me a truth of yours, allow me to return the favor. I would have been content to continue my lessons with Sir Lachlan, to one day fight for my clan or Scotland, even act as an envoy for the king. I never sought a husband, and only suggested this tourney to delay a forced marriage to a rotten apple whom I would never love, and would never love me.”
Alastair nodded in reluctant sympathy. Wealth smoothed away many cares, but it was men who gained. Daughters of great houses were seen as tools to advance the family, not as people deserving of love or happiness. Women of humble birth might have few material comforts, but when it came to choosing a husband or lover, they had much greater freedom. “The lot of a noblewoman.”
“Indeed. But then I saw Glennoe. He laughed at my wink, blushed at my regard, answered my question honestly, and you are loyal unto him in a way that commends his character. That makes me think there is a chance for me to have a happy future.”
A glance across the Hall confirmed that the king watched them even as he laughed at something his young queen said. But curiously, he remained beside the fireplace. Did James approve of Callum as a suitor? Or did he have devious motives yet to be revealed?
Alastair gripped his arms so tightly he left imprints on his skin. “And so, lady?”
“Glennoe states he can run, shoot an arrow, dance, play a tune, and heave a stone a little. Thus, an even chance of progressing through the early events—”
“More than even,” he growled. “My laird is a man of many talents.”
“Alastair,” chided Callum, but his gaze was warm.
“Forgive me,” he said stiffly. “I mean no offense.”
Lady Isla tilted her head. “I know you don’t. I’d wager Glennoe has far more talents than many would guess, and is far too modest to list them. However, he confesses a weakness in his ability with a sword. One talent I will never hide, nor be modest about, is swordplay. I was Sir Lachlan’s best student until my tumble from grace. What I am offering is…lessons. In secret. If you wish, Glennoe. If marriage to me, knowing how unconventional I am, might be something you truly desire.”
Sword lessons!
Alastair met Callum’s troubled gaze, knowing he would be torn at such an offer. Honor demanded they obey the king’s rules; yet both knew if Callum did manage to reach the last four, with his current ability he would have no chance in winning the tourney. The other entrants had fought in vicious clan battles, committed daring border raids against the English, and stood shoulder to shoulder with the king as he quelled uprisings. Thanks to years of cruelty; the mockery and beatings that had followed each defeat by his father, other clan members, or his cousin, Callum hated to even pick up a sword. But with Lady Isla as a tutor, maybe he could learn some new skills or improve his stance and grip and footwork just enough to hold his own against the other men.
Alas, they had no more time to discuss the matter, for the king and queen now approached.
“The minutes have flown in the company of a fine lass,” Alastair said too-heartily, bowing to Lady Isla. “Laird, we should go and begin preparations for the foot race on the morrow. The competition shall be fierce.”
Lady Isla held out her hand to Callum. “It was a great pleasure to meet you, Glennoe. I look forward to hearing your opinion on a great Highland pastime. Good fortune to you and your squire in the tourney.”
Callum bowed over her hand, then rather daringly for him, kissed it. “Thank you, my lady. I hope—”
“Isla!” said Margaret as she joined them. “Your father and mother eagerly await you. Do not tarry in this Hall any longer.”
The lady didn’t express annoyance at her fourteen-year-old queen’s scolding by even a glance or twitch, yet somehow Alastair could feel it and he admired the restraint. He felt much sympathy for the king and the sacrifices he’d made to ensure the unholy alliance with England succeeded. Everyone in the realm knew James didn’t love his Tudor wife, but he was always courteous, and to placate her further, he’d sent his mistresses and all the illegitimate children he doted on far away from Stirling Castle.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Lady Isla said, curtsying deeply. “Good day, all.”
The king smiled as he watched her leave the Great Hall. “A great treasure for the worthy winner of my tourney. Are you pleased with the five events, Glennoe?”
Alastair tensed at the seemingly innocent question. He remained wary of their sovereign’s indulgence of time just now, and what purpose that might serve. For James would certainly have a purpose. Their king might be younger and far more amiable than most, but he had already proven himself a formidable, shrewd, and practical man. Much like Callum, James was forced each day to mend the mistakes of his father as best he could.
Callum inclined his head. “They honor the character of my king perfectly, I believe. Part warrior, part gallant. So yes, Your Grace, I shall be pleased to demonstrate a range of skills in the quest to win the hand and heart of Lady Isla. And to provide a spectacle for the enjoyment of my queen.”
“Well said, well said,” murmured the king. “I expect great things from you, perhaps more so because you will not be expected to progress far. Prepare your laird well, Master Graham.”
“Aye, Your Grace,” he replied, understanding the dismissal for what it was.
Lest anything they said be overheard and repeated to spiteful ears, Alastair and Callum departed the Great Hall in silence, and held their tongues crossing the outer close also. Several of the other entrants remained outside, clearly hoping for further time with Lady Isla, or even a private audience with the king. From the expressions on their faces, they were furious that such a lowly laird had been permitted both—none more so than wretched Red MacDonald, who gave them both a dagger glare.