The Highlander's Touch

Page 37

Circenn inclined his head. As his gaze moved over the McIllioch brothers, he smiled with anticipation. One move from either of them and he would be off his mount and at their throats. Admittedly the brawl would end in laughter, but every time he saw these two men he reacted the same way. They were the strongest warriors he’d ever trained with, and fighting with them was as exhilarating as it was futile. He could no more take a Berserker than a Berserker could take him. Their fights ended in a draw every time. Of course, that was one on one. Circenn had no doubt that if ever both of them combined forces they would bring him down with little effort unless he used magic.
“Brodie,” Lulach said with a nod.
“Perhaps we’ll have time for swordplay before you ride to Brodie,” Niall offered. “I think you could use another lesson,” he provoked.
“And you think you can teach me one?” He’d love nothing more than to channel his frustration into a challenging fight, but his mind was consumed with the problem at hand. “Perhaps later.” He dismissed them from his thoughts and turned to Robert. “May we speak in private, milord?”
The Bruce nodded to Niall and Lulach. “Go on with you. I am well guarded with Brodie. I will join you shortly.”
Circenn kneed his horse around and he and Robert rode in silence to the edge of the cliff. Robert looked out to the sea, breathing deeply of the chill, salty air. The waves crashed against the rocks below, sending silver plumes of foam spraying up the cliffs.
“I love this place. It is wild and full of power. Each time I visit Dunnottar I feel it seeping into my veins and leave renewed.”
“This bluff does have that effect,” Circenn agreed.
“But perhaps what I sense is nothing more than the ghostly courage of the many men who have died defending this coveted rock.” Robert was silent for a moment, and Circenn knew he was brooding over the numbers of Scotsmen who had fallen and would continue to fall before their country was free.
Circenn waited until Robert roused himself from his thoughts. “Yet it does not compare with Castle Brodie, does it? You must be eager to return.”
“More eager to join the battle,” Circenn said quickly. Weary of holding critical sites, tired of protecting and running messages, he needed to bury his frustration in the all-consuming heat of battle.
“You know I need you in other places, Circenn. You also know the Templars are hunted for the price on their heads. Although I have given them sanctuary, parading them out in force would invite an attack before I’m ready. Mine have shaved their beards and doffed their tunics, masquerading as Scots. Do yours still cling to their ways?”
“Aye, they have a hard time breaking any of their rules. But I might be able to persuade them, if they thought they would be permitted to wage war. We could help take back some of the castles,” Circenn pointed out irritably.
“You help me best precisely where I have you. I will summon your private forces to battle when I am ready and no sooner. But I doona wish to argue, Circenn. Tell me what is weighing upon your mind so heavily that you rode out to greet me with unusually grim countenance, even for you.”
“I need to request a favor from you, milord.”
Robert quirked a brow at him. “Formality between us in private, Circenn? With our past?”
Circenn smiled faintly. “Robert, I need ask of you a boon, and that you not question me, but simply grant it.”
Robert angled his horse closer to Circenn’s and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do you mean trust you as you trusted me so many years ago when I’d fought for Longshanks against my own motherland? Do you mean grant you my faith as unwaveringly as you granted me yours when you had no reason to believe I wouldn’t cross the lines and go back to England again?” Robert’s mouth curved in a bitter smile. “Circenn, not too long ago you gave me reason to believe in myself. When you came at my summons I knew naught of you but that you were rumored to be the fiercest warrior in all the lands. I believed that with you behind me, I could regain Scotland’s freedom. You came to me, and you gave me your fealty when I did not deserve it. You had no reason to trust me—yet you did, and in the strength of your faith I rediscovered my own. Since that day I have come to believe that I have earned a place in this land again. Ask. Ask me and it is yours.”
Robert’s words had the impact of a fist in Circenn’s gut. His king gave him his faith and trust, and he was asking Circenn to help him break a vow and perpetuate a lie. What would Robert say if he knew the truth?
Circenn expelled a breath. “It is a woman,” he said finally. “I need you to claim her as your cousin, and when you meet her to pretend it is the renewal of an old acquaintance. Cousin by blood—Lisa MacRobertson.”