Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy Two 02] by Border Lass

think, because my brother Simon serves him. And that man thinks well enough of Simon to entrust him with duties he does not entrust to others. How is it that, if you are
that
man’s friend, you dared to knock Simon down as you did at Dunfermline?”
    “Because I did not know Simon then,” Garth said hastily. Realizing how that must sound, he added, “Sakes, but I still don’t. Moreover, I doubt he’d recognize me even face to face. I struck him because he was annoying you and I don’t like men who bully women. If you recall, I grabbed him from behind, swung him around, and knocked him down before he could possibly have seen me.”
    “But if he
should
learn who you are . . .” She peeped up at him from under her heavy lashes.
    He said dryly, “Are you suggesting that you might tell him?”
    Indignation banished the hopeful look. “Nay, I would not! I’m glad you hit him. But others there may have told him.”
    “If he knew then, nowt came of it. And if he finds out, I doubt he’ll complain. I’m
not
Fife’s friend, lass, but that incident won’t add to Simon’s credit with him.”
    “I suppose not,” she said as they drew near the royal table. “I see the princess now, sir,” she added with greater dignity. “Thank you for seeing me safely back.”
    “It was a pleasure, my lady,” he replied on the same note. Less formally, he said, “Isabel stays for the Queen’s coronation, does she not?”
    “Of course, but we leave for Sweethope Hill House after the feasting.”
    “The Queen’s feast also takes place here in the park, I expect.”
    “It does, aye,” she said. “But if you mean to accost me again as you did just now, sir, I warn you I shall
not
leave Isabel’s side.”
    He swept his cap from his head and bowed. “That must be as you will it, my lady. But it is not wise to keep your friends always at a distance.”
    “Are you my friend, Sir Garth? I have learned that one should rarely trust what any man says.”
    Checking the anger that always ignited at hearing his integrity questioned, he held her somber gaze and said evenly, “You can trust my word—always.”
    Without looking away, she said, “In my experience, a man is
most
dangerous when he declares himself trustworthy. Good day to you, sir.”
    With that, she turned and walked away, leaving him to stare after her. Only then did he realize that she still had not told him who or what had made her so angry.
    As Amalie rejoined the other women and performed her part in attending the princess, she hoped her feelings did not show in her face. But she feared they might.
    She knew people were watching. They were always watching her—Isabel’s other ladies, if no one else—to see if she shirked her duties or did anything wrong.
    Long since, she had discovered that such was the way of women in groups. Even so, the ladies who served Isabel were more agreeable than many serving other members of the extensive royal family.
    Isabel, generally sunny-tempered herself, detested discord and quickly stifled it when it occurred. But some of her ladies attacked subtly, and Amalie knew that Isabel’s sitting by her at the coronation would have upset at least one of them.
    Not only were the others all of higher rank than Amalie, but she was also the youngest. Also, Isabel had invited her to join her household out of friendship.
    The two had met during an attempted seizure of Hermitage Castle, a Border stronghold of the Earls of Douglas. Isabel’s husband James Douglas had been not only the second earl but also kin to the Scotts of Buccleuch, because Wat Scott’s mother was a Douglas. With that kinship and the few years separating them in age, Isabel and Amalie had soon become good friends.
    The princess tended to talk with her as she might talk with a trusted sister rather than as she did with others. She had frankly admitted that she rarely allowed herself such openness with her other ladies, fearing that one of them might betray a confidence if