Page 52 of The Scot

“How did you find me?”

She couldn’t see Lance’s face but could imagine his exasperated expression.

“A wee respite,” he mimicked Terric’s accent. “I knew exactly what you meant when you suggested it.”

He didn’t wait for Terric to comment.

“A small party is marching toward Dromsley,” he blurted. “Their banners are clear even from a distance.”

“Who is it?” Terric asked. “Surely the king wouldn’t send such a small group.”

Roysa didn’t need to wait for Lance’s answer—he’d met her gaze and held it, but not as a reprimand. It was a message.

“’Tis my father,” she guessed.

Lance nodded.

“Aye, my lady. Lord Stanton is here.”

Stanton had cometo Dromsley as a father. He’d received his daughter’s message about her husband’s death, and the sordid details around it. As such, he’d not come with a retinue of men. The second message they’d sent to Stanton, warning of a possible attack, had likely not reached the castle yet.

They’d quickly moved to the solar, along with Lance and Terric’s men, and Terric now sat across from the man who, though he did not yet know it, might be his future father-in-law.

“Who else have you asked for help?” Stanton asked. Direct. To the point.

“Just you. No others but Noreham can spare enough men, and he is too far south,” Lance answered for him.

“We’ve informed Noreham as well,” Gilbert added. “Though it’s to be expected he’ll have his own battles to fight. If John truly is mobilizing, there’s a good chance he’ll start by moving against Noreham considering his role in sending Bande de Valeur back to France.”

“Or with Licheford.” Terric moved the map they’d been poring over for the last several days toward Stanton. “It would be a strategic win, to take such a place.” And Conrad well knew it.

“But risky.” Stanton leaned forward, over the map. “The earls of Licheford have a long history of victory, against all manner of foes.”

“Though they’ve never had cause to fight their own king,” he replied.

Stanton looked up, his eyes hard. “Nor have any of us.”

Terric and Lance exchanged a glance.

“Tell me of your plan.”

When Gilbert took over, Terric, grateful, only partially listened. Instead, he thought of the question Lance had whispered to him on their way to this chamber.

“What will you tell him?”

He’d not yet had the opportunity to speak with Stanton, but he knew he could not very well court Lady Roysa under her father’s nose without first seeking the man’s permission. Was he truly ready to marry her . . .

He could feel her lips against his even now.

For the blood of Christ, her father stands just next to me.

But now that he’d had a small taste, Terric wanted more. He wanted it all.

“Is there no other way?”

Clearly Stanton did not approve of their plan.

“A siege?” Lord Stanton looked at him.