Page 77 of The Scot

Chapter 31

When the door creaked open, Terric expected his brother or Lance. Instead, Cait stood in the doorway, looking as she often did, somehow both vulnerable and fiercely determined.

“No wine here,” he said, rising to pour her a mug of ale. “Apologies.”

Cait took the mug from him. “Hosting guests has never been your strength.”

Terric resumed his seat in front of the hearth. “I am as much a guest as you. This is your home too.”

“I’d not have guessed as much from your reception.”

Terric knew better than to answer. He had been a tad short with her, but he hated that she was here, in danger. He hated that Roysa and Idalia were in danger too. But thinking of them would not help him make a decision. One that was needed. Now.

“We can discuss that another time, perhaps.”

Cait lifted her mug and then drank. “Perhaps,” she repeated.

“You spoke with Rory.”

By now, he assumed, the news had gotten around. Battle. Siege. Whichever he chose, none would get any sleep this night.

“Aye.”

Cait never did anything without cause. If she’d come here, especially given the circumstances, she had something to say.

“Go on, lass.”

But his sister said nothing. Instead, she sat opposite him, scrutinizing him in her usual manner. Cait’s silent perusal was infamous among them—it had even made their father nervous. But they all knew there was little choice but to bear it.

As stubborn as all of the Kennaughs, she would speak when ready, and not a moment before.

He braced for it even while considering his next course of action.

“Your advisors push for a siege,” she commented at last.

“Some do, aye.”

“Yet you prepare for battle.”

“I do.”

“Is that not risky?”

Over the past weeks, he’d explained his strategy many times to many people, but he would happily do so again if Cait were interested to hear it. She typically did not care for talk of strategy or war.

“Mayhap. Though I suspect it would be more dangerous for us to allow John to claim any sort of victory at this important juncture.”

“How would a siege be a victory for the king?”

He took a large swig of ale and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “While we sit here, doing nothing, he will point to the north as evidence of his power. Of how he has crippled two of the order’s members and one of the most heavily fortified holdings in the north. Dromsley will be used as evidence of his continued strength. We cannot lose support now that our demands have been made.”

Cait mimicked his posture. Never mind that she wore a gown.

Mother would likely faint if she could see Cait at this moment. Nay, she’d likely already fainted upon learning his sister had effectively snuck out of the castle to join Rory.

“Or Dromsley Castle holds out, as we know it will, while the others continue fighting the rebellion’s cause. The king claims this small victory but loses the greater battle, as nothing much matters other than his agreement to meet and sign that document you all prepared.”

“So some believe.”