Christ, where had that come from? It was as if kissing her were the most natural thing in the world.

Perhaps guessing his thoughts, she sobered and took a cautious step back. “Thank you, Sir Alex,” she said again before slipping into her chamber.

Alex stood staring at the closed door for a long moment before retracing his steps and returning to his own chamber. But the strange interlude with Joan Comyn stayed with him long into the night.

Chapter 4

4

ALEX THOUGHT THE meeting would never end. De Beaumont—as keeper of the castle—and Pembroke—as an earl and the man of highest rank—had been measuring their cocks all morning, and frankly, neither had anything worth bragging about.

Two of King Edward’s most important barons seemed more interested in the sound of their own voices than in planning this damned war. Posturing, positioning, vying for attention . . . that was all Edward’s commanders seemed interested in, and Alex was bloody tired of it. At least when he was with the Highland Guard they’d always had a common purpose, even if they didn’t always agree on how to get there. But these two were more worried about who would ride in what order and lead which part of the army than they were about tactics and strategy. After Alex’s suggestion to request a parley with Bruce to see if they might come to terms before marching was swiftly (and decisively) dismissed, he had been only half-listening anyway.

Alex tried not to let the frustration get to him, but he was running out of time. The inroads he’d thought he’d made in London two years ago were harder to remember the farther they marched north. At first the king had seemed willing to listen to Alex’s pleas for the people in the Borders and his warnings that Bruce was stronger than his numbers appeared. Edward had said he would consider Alex’s suggestion of a parley.

He hadn’t considered it for long. Thanks to the problems with his barons, Scotland had become Edward’s rallying cry. His distraction. His way of proving to his people that he was his father’s son, and a king they could believe in. Alex knew it was going to be next to impossible to dissuade Edward from his course. Which didn’t mean Alex wouldn’t try. But it was becoming increasingly clear that no one was willing to listen to reason—certainly not the cock-measuring de Beaumont and Pembroke.

His thoughts turned to something far more pleasant. He wondered how Lady Joan’s ankle was this morning. Perhaps he would seek her out after the meeting to check on her.