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The trail they followed was well traversed and clear, and they made great time across Dumfries, veering southward toward Locherbie where the supposed meeting was to take place.
James had informed Shabib of their plan to camp in Lochmaben wood northwest of the manse. As they approached, the red dragon banner peeked through the lush green oaks and rowan trees, guiding the trio to the king’s small encampment.
Thomas and one of MacCollough’s men approached them as they neared, grabbing at Shabib’s and Tosia’s reins to control the horses.
Shabib bowed low at the men and slid off his steed. Though these men might not know him directly, the Moorish kin of Black Douglas held his own renown, and they asked no questions about who Shabib desired to see.
Tosia followed behind Shabib, hiding in the flapping folds of his robes. Visiting a military encampment, even a small one of only five tents as this one was, unnerved Tosia. The sheer number of gruff Highlanders with their swords nearly as long as she was daunting. Tavish fell in line right behind her, and some of the rigid tension left her shoulders being buttressed by both men.
James’s dark head poked out of a tent near the center of the camp, one he assuredly shared with the Bruce. Her assumption proved correct, as the Bruce’s own burnished head followed out of the tent.
“Shabib?” James exclaimed, his shock only evidenced by a slight elevation of his thick black brows. Those brows rose higher when he noted who hid behind his man. “Tosia!”
James pushed past the tent flap and rushed for her, his powerful hand seizing her upper arms with such vehemence as to bruise her fair skin. She grimaced at his grip, but he didn’t loosen his hold.
“What are ye doing here?” Then, keeping his fierce grasp on her arm, he whipped his head to Shabib. “Why did ye bring her here? Do ye no’ know the danger ye’ve put her in?”
His voice, normally gruff to begin with, took on a more hostile tone, one that made her cringe from him in fear. Tavish puffed up his chest and stood next to Tosia, trying to place himself between Tosia and her husband.
The James she’d come to know and love was gone, abandoned back at Auchinleck. The Black Douglas stood in his place, the full monster of reputation. She feared him in a way she hadn’t experienced since they’d first wed, and even with her brother, Shabib, and the King of Scotland surrounding her, the fury that burned off him sent waves of shuddering panic through her entire being. He’d just as soon kill her as he’d listen to anything she had to say.
Shabib, however, didn’t seem to fear the snarling beast and placed a sinewy hand on James’s shoulder.
“Sir James. You assume much. Temper yourself and permit the lass to share her tale. Do you think me so lack-witted I’d risk bringing her if I didn’t believe it was absolutely necessary?”
James’s eyes were naught but slits, and his furious gaze shifted between among the three of them. The Bruce joined Shabib and offered his own counsel.
“James, it would behoove us to hear what your wife has to say. She did ride all this way.”
The mocking tone of the Bruce’s final words forced James to tilt his face sidelong at his king.
“’Twould appear I am outnumbered,” he said, dropping his crushing grip from Tosia’s slender arms.
He didn’t move from her, rather he wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her close to his side. James led her to a tree stump for use as a seat and settled her on it. Robert sat on another tree stump next to her. James elected to stand above them, his arms crossed over his rigid chest.
Shabib and Tavish moved behind her, serving to support her as she shared her news with her infuriated husband and her king. Shabib flapped his hand at her. Go ahead, he gestured.
“James, I was working in the garden, near the wood, and I heard a sound. I ventured in to find a man.” She lifted her golden-amber eyes, pleading. “’Twas Simon, dear husband.”
At that name, he stiffened, the hardness in his face shifting into something akin to interest.
“Simon, the soldier lad?” he asked with meaning.
Tosia nodded.
“What soldier lad, James?” the Bruce asked. James cut his king a treasonous look, then turned his face back to Tosia.
“What did Simon tell ye?”
“That he owed us, me, a debt, and ‘twas time to repay. He detailed the trap the English are setting for ye as we speak.”
Several men who’d been eavesdropping glanced around the wood, as if the English were trapping them right there.
“We know ‘tis likely a trap, lass,” the Bruce told her in a tight voice. “We have already investigated the manse. Naught is amiss. And we will no’ enter the church until the entirety of Edward’s emissary have entered.”
Tosia shook her head. The ride across Dumfries had caused her to lose her kerchief, and her hair flew wildly around her shoulders.
“Nay, that is the trap!” She leaned to James and reached up to grasp his crossed arms. “They dinna plan on killing only ye. The English ye’ve seen in the emissary’s camp? ‘Tis only one army. The king has another army on the way. His plan is to wait until the emissary and his men are in the manse, and all of ye, then they will entomb ye and set the edifice ablaze, slaying ye all.”
James swallowed loudly in the shuttering silence that followed her harrowing words.
“Nay, lass,” Robert said in a low voice. “The new boy king might be susceptible to the words of his advisers, but even that inexperienced king would no’ kill an entire contingent of his own men, and his representative to boot! I decline to believe even Longshanks, the dark soul he was, would have sacrificed his own men thusly.”
James lifted his hand and held it up to the Bruce.
“I dinna agree with ye, my king,” he said slowly. Tosia could see his brilliant strategist mind working over her words. “In fact, given the boy king’s reputation as weak and foppish, it makes strong sense. What other way might a weak king gain the upper hand than through such vile subterfuge? And with the king’s own representative in attendance, we’d never see the trap until we were caught in it.”
The Bruce lifted his expressionless face to James.
“Am I to presume this soldier is no’ Scots?” the Bruce asked James directly. James tipped his head. A muscle in the Bruce’s jaw twitched. “Can we trust this soldier, James? How are we to know that he speaks the truth? What if his conversation with Tosia is part of the English’s trap?”
James’s gaze caught Tosia’s, and James pursed his lips before speaking.
“Aye. We can trust it. This lad owes his life to Tosia, and he seemed earnest to me. Tosia?”
She nodded wildly, her husband’s supportive words sending a burst of warmth to replace her icy fear. “Aye. I’d trust my life on this lad’s words. More importantly,” she said, her face softening to her husband, “I would trust his life. And yours, my king.”
Their shared endorsement of the English soldier seemed to appease the king and he nodded once. He looked over his shoulder at the eavesdropping MacCollough. “Declan, gather the men. A change of plans.”
Then he glanced at James.
“Sir James, a word, if ye may?”
The Bruce waved James to the narrow clearing where the kindling sat ready for the fire. Though his expression was indifferent, composed, James knew that under his guise, the king was fuming at James’s treasonous deception.
“Do ye care to tell me about how ye and your wife are known to an English soldier? One that somehow owed ye a debt?”
The king’s tenebrous voice carried with it a veiled threat. James might be the king’s most staunch and loyal supporter, but no treason, or even the suggestion of treason, would be tolerated among his men.
James was abashed, feeling scolded by his king, yet his face remained firm and focused on Robert’s.
“We came upon a small scouting party in the woods to the east of Auchinleck. I dispatched two of the men right away. The third soldier,” James huffed, scoffing at the memory. “He was a lad, no’ even old enough to shave, it seemed. Tosia saw something more in him. He reminded her of her brother and begged for his life. How could I no’ grant my wife this small grace? So I sent him back the way he came, qualms and all.”
“It appears that your kindness was rewarded. If the lad’s no’ lying, then he might have saved us all.”
James dipped his head at his King.
“Or rather, your wife has saved us. Who would have thought your taking a wife could have such beneficent repercussions, eh?”
The king’s tease was not lost on James, who ground his jaw at the jest. Then he bowed low, a mocking bow, Robert well knew.
“Och, your intervention served me well, my king.”
At this, Robert cracked a smile, a thin white line amid his thick beard.
“Aye, now, serve your wife well afore we send her back, away from any of the fighting that will assuredly ensue and to the safety of Auchinleck. Then join the MacCollough and the rest of the men so we might decide our next course of action.”
“Shabib, Tavish, thank ye for bringing Tosia and this news to our attention.” James had to temper his voice — he certainly was not thankful they’d brought her at all. “’Twill enable us to change our tactics. And keep the king alive. But I dinna want her here, regardless.”
“Sir James, I’d prefer to stay here with you. Another warrior, another sword, surely is needed?” Shabib’s eyes lowered, and a wretchedness filled James. He grasped Shabib’s shoulder in a powerful grip.
“Aye, ‘twould. But Tavish is yet a lad, and I canna have anything happen to Tosia. Nothing, Shabib. Do ye understand?”
Shabib raised his liquid brown gaze to James. His lips pursed, then he nodded. Aye, of course Shabib understood James’s desperate request.
“Very well, James. I will guard her with my life.”
“Thank you, Shabib. As you save her life, ye save mine, aye?”
Shabib’s pursed lips pressed into a tight smile. Aye, the man did know.
Robert approached the campfire near his tent, and James tilted his head at the King.
“I have to attend the Bruce,” he told Shabib. “I will bring Tosia to her horse, then ye see her safely back to Auchinleck.”
Shabib bowed low as James spun on his heel to Tosia who stood by her horse with Thomas. James caressed her cheek with a calloused finger.
“Thank ye, wife. I dinna relish that ye came out here and put your life in danger, but your efforts may have saved the king.”
“And ye,” she whispered as she laid her hand on his chest. The thrum of his heart under her hand appeared to soothe her. “’Twould save ye.”
He dipped his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Yet, Shabib might have relayed your message.”
“I could no’ risk it.”
“And I’d no’ risk your life!” James’s thundering voice rose. Instead of shirking away, she jutted her chin at him.
“And why no’? ‘Tis acceptable for ye to vow to lay down your life for mine. Should I no’ do the same as your wife? Is the value of your life no less than mine? My heart, my life, would be devastated if your life was forfeit.”
James, for once, had no words. He leaned into her, capturing her lips with his. His arms wrapped around her waist and crushed her to him, plunging his tongue deep between her lips. He poured all his desire, all his love for this woman into that kiss, and hoped it was enough to send her back to Auchinleck.
Or, if their chanced tactics with the English failed, enough for the rest of her life.
