Page 130 of The Laird's Masked Desire
“I made what speed I could,” Sir Laurence explained.
Domhnall studied him. There was nothing immediately amiss, nothing that would have given cause for distrust. And yet, there rarely was, with men such as these.
“Ye will be informed of what is required,” Domhnall said. “And of what ye are here tae witness.”
Sir Laurence inclined his head again. “That is me purpose, me laird.”
They did not linger in the courtyard. Domhnall led the way within, with Margaret and Cameron following, while the man from the Crown followed at their side. The castle shifted around them as they passed. Servants were stepping aside and guards were acknowledging without question, but the movement was quieter now and more contained.
The matter at hand did not require spectacle. It required precision.
The chamber was prepared. Domhnall did not waste time in pleasantry.
“Ye will attend a meeting,” he said, addressing Sir Laurence directly. “A private one, arranged under coercion. Ye will hear what is said, and bear witness tae it.”
Sir Laurence’s expression did not change.
“And this coercion,” he mused, “ye believe it sufficient tae constitute interference with a Crown-sanctioned union?”
“I dinnae believe,” Domhnall replied. “I ken.”
There was no force in the words. There did not need to be.
Margaret spoke then, giving the account of what had happened without any embellishment. She did not falter in it, neither did she soften the threat her father had made, nor the implication of alliance that lay beneath it. Sir Laurence listened attentively, without interruption. When she finished, he inclined his head once more.
“It will be recorded,” he said. “And judged accordingly.”
The discussion turned to detail. Timing, first, then distance, where the representative would stand and what he had to see, what had to be heard without question or interpretation.
“There can be nay ambiguity, nae room fer later doubt,” Domhnall warned.
Sir Laurence agreed to each point without resistance.
Cameron noted it. So did Domhnall. Margaret listened closely as the final arrangements were set, her attention fixed not upon the man from the Crown, but upon the plan itself.
“Ye will stand where we agreed,” he told her. “Nae further and nae closer.”
She inclined her head. “I understand.”
“And ye willnae act before the signal.”
“I willnae,” she promised.
Their gaze held for a moment. There was no need to say more, although he had a million words swarming inside his mind, and all of them were telling him that she shouldn’t be allowed to be a part of that mad plan. Yet he knew better than to try and dissuade her.
Outside the chamber, the castle continued its quiet transformation. Men were positioned along the road that led to the ruins, along the higher ground, where sight could be held without being seen. Riders prepared to move when called, but not before.
Nothing could be left to chance.
By the time the final word had been spoken, the matter stood complete. Sir Laurence withdrew to his quarters, leaving them to their own. Cameron remained.
“It is set,” he said.
“Aye.” Domhnall’s gaze returned once more to the map.
The marked point did not change. It never had. Only the meaning behind it had.
“With the Crown present,” Cameron added, “they willnae be able tae deny what is done.”
