nearly as overwhelming.
All the memories that she’d kept so carefully bottled up inside were threatening to
explode. She didn’t want to remember. Didn’t want to miss them. Didn’t want to think
of Scotland as home when her life must be in England.
She’d been here only a week, yet she felt the pull so strongly it threatened to destroy
the contentment she’d fought so hard to achieve. It was as if she’d taken a piece
of slate and wiped it clean, only to discover later that the lines had been etched
into the stone, not made from chalk.
Worse, her mission had been a failure. The negotiations for peace had stalled, as
they always did over the issue of Bruce’s kingship. Robert refused to sign a peace
treaty that did not recognize his sovereignty and Edward refused to sign one that
did. No woman’s voice could change that.
As she expected, Robert was sympathetic and understandingtoward her son’s plight—and had no intention of forfeiting his lands—but he also would
not recognize David as Earl of Atholl until he did fealty for those lands. Something
that was impossible as long as her son was in Edward’s power.
The stalemate continued.
Moreover, also as she expected, Robert was hardly inclined to share his secrets with
her. Her mouth twitched with a wry grin. Especially after she’d told him outright
that Edward wished her to spy on him, so if he had any dark secrets, to make sure
he made them easy for her to discover.
After a moment of shock, Robert had burst out laughing and told her she sounded just
like her sister. Isabel, he’d meant. The bold, speak-her-mind sister he’d fallen in
love with and married when he’d been a lad of eighteen, and who’d died a few years
later in childbirth. Mary hadn’t realized how much she’d changed, but he was right.
Of Janet’s presumed death, his sorrow had been nearly as great as Lady Christina’s.
And like her brother’s widow, he claimed to know nothing of what had become of her.
The peace envoys had managed one small success, however, in extending the truce until
November.
Mary could hear the sounds of merriment coming from the Hall as she hurried down the
stairwell from the tower chamber she shared with some of the other ladies and the
two attendants Edward had provided for her—probably to keep an eye on her.
Highlanders could dance until dawn, and from the sounds of it, the feast was still
going strong.
Perhaps I should have …
She stopped herself. She was right to have begged off the feast tonight. She couldn’t
allow herself to be drawn in.
She’d been doing her best to keep to herself, but it was getting harder and harder
to stay away from the festivities.Harder and harder not to get caught up in the excitement. In the
fun
.
God, how long had it been since she’d had fun? She’d almost forgotten what it was.
But being here made her remember. Being here made her remember a lot of things.
One more week. That was all she needed to make it through. They were leaving at the
end of the Games, and then she could return to her life in England.
But the sounds around her seemed to challenge that characterization. Music. Voices.
Laughter. Those were the sounds of life.
No
. She pushed it aside. Quiet. Peace. Solitude. Independence. That was what she wanted.
Finding those things at a castle in the midst of the Highland Games, however, was
all but impossible. She hurried down the corridor and out into the
barmkin
, heading for the postern gate, which exited toward the beach.
It would be peaceful there, gazing up at the moonlit sky. The stars were different
in the Highlands. Bigger, brighter, closer. Her mother had told her it was because
the “high” lands were so near to heaven. Mary could almost believe her.
The stars in England were—
She stopped herself again. She couldn’t let herself keep comparing; it would only
make leaving that much more difficult.
Don’t dwell on
All the memories that she’d kept so carefully bottled up inside were threatening to
explode. She didn’t want to remember. Didn’t want to miss them. Didn’t want to think
of Scotland as home when her life must be in England.
She’d been here only a week, yet she felt the pull so strongly it threatened to destroy
the contentment she’d fought so hard to achieve. It was as if she’d taken a piece
of slate and wiped it clean, only to discover later that the lines had been etched
into the stone, not made from chalk.
Worse, her mission had been a failure. The negotiations for peace had stalled, as
they always did over the issue of Bruce’s kingship. Robert refused to sign a peace
treaty that did not recognize his sovereignty and Edward refused to sign one that
did. No woman’s voice could change that.
As she expected, Robert was sympathetic and understandingtoward her son’s plight—and had no intention of forfeiting his lands—but he also would
not recognize David as Earl of Atholl until he did fealty for those lands. Something
that was impossible as long as her son was in Edward’s power.
The stalemate continued.
Moreover, also as she expected, Robert was hardly inclined to share his secrets with
her. Her mouth twitched with a wry grin. Especially after she’d told him outright
that Edward wished her to spy on him, so if he had any dark secrets, to make sure
he made them easy for her to discover.
After a moment of shock, Robert had burst out laughing and told her she sounded just
like her sister. Isabel, he’d meant. The bold, speak-her-mind sister he’d fallen in
love with and married when he’d been a lad of eighteen, and who’d died a few years
later in childbirth. Mary hadn’t realized how much she’d changed, but he was right.
Of Janet’s presumed death, his sorrow had been nearly as great as Lady Christina’s.
And like her brother’s widow, he claimed to know nothing of what had become of her.
The peace envoys had managed one small success, however, in extending the truce until
November.
Mary could hear the sounds of merriment coming from the Hall as she hurried down the
stairwell from the tower chamber she shared with some of the other ladies and the
two attendants Edward had provided for her—probably to keep an eye on her.
Highlanders could dance until dawn, and from the sounds of it, the feast was still
going strong.
Perhaps I should have …
She stopped herself. She was right to have begged off the feast tonight. She couldn’t
allow herself to be drawn in.
She’d been doing her best to keep to herself, but it was getting harder and harder
to stay away from the festivities.Harder and harder not to get caught up in the excitement. In the
fun
.
God, how long had it been since she’d had fun? She’d almost forgotten what it was.
But being here made her remember. Being here made her remember a lot of things.
One more week. That was all she needed to make it through. They were leaving at the
end of the Games, and then she could return to her life in England.
But the sounds around her seemed to challenge that characterization. Music. Voices.
Laughter. Those were the sounds of life.
No
. She pushed it aside. Quiet. Peace. Solitude. Independence. That was what she wanted.
Finding those things at a castle in the midst of the Highland Games, however, was
all but impossible. She hurried down the corridor and out into the
barmkin
, heading for the postern gate, which exited toward the beach.
It would be peaceful there, gazing up at the moonlit sky. The stars were different
in the Highlands. Bigger, brighter, closer. Her mother had told her it was because
the “high” lands were so near to heaven. Mary could almost believe her.
The stars in England were—
She stopped herself again. She couldn’t let herself keep comparing; it would only
make leaving that much more difficult.
Don’t dwell on
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