The Fire in the Flint by Candace Robb Read Free Book Online Page B

trade.’
    ‘You emptied the coffer and entrusted me to a man who was planning to take his leave to be with his lover.’
    ‘I left you sufficient funds to survive for a good while.’ There was a whisper of indignation in Roger’s tone. ‘I did whenever I left, ever praying but never certain I would return.’
    ‘There was money sufficient for but a month, and little trade to compensate.’ Margaret managed to keep her voice steady. ‘And what about before you left?’ she persisted. ‘I thought you were seeking another port for shipping.’
    ‘At first I was!’ he shouted, rounding on her. ‘My confiding in you would not have prevented anything that happened.’
    ‘I envy you such certainty.’
    His gaunt, angular face was rigid with anger. Shehad not set out to make him so angry.
    ‘You refuse to believe my good intentions in all that I have done.’ His voice was as cold as his eyes. ‘You are behaving like a pampered child annoyed to discover that life is difficult.’
    Margaret opened her mouth to retort, but she stopped herself, thinking that there might be a little truth in what he said. But others had been as condemning of Roger’s behaviour as she was, especially Murdoch. ‘I do not claim to be better than I am, Roger. Nor am I so simple as to believe that now you’re here all is well. I don’t think you have any idea how I worried for you, thinking you might be injured, dying somewhere—’
    ‘You should not have left the safety of my mother’s house.’ He’d risen and taken the cruisie to a small table by the window, settling down and pouring himself some wine.
    ‘You refuse to see. Jack had been murdered, Roger, and it had happened while he was searching for news of you. I feared someone wanted to keep him from discovering where you were. I feared you had been killed, or captured. No one else was going to search for you, everyone was caught up in the troubles. It had to be me or no one. Can’t you see that? I could not bear to sit day after day watching the door, wondering whether the clatter on the street was someone bringing you home shrouded, as was Jack.’
    Roger began to speak, then stopped himself. Hepoured himself more wine, then shifted on the stool to gaze out of the dark window.
    Margaret turned away from the light and, pulling the covers over her head, resumed her Hail Marys. She wished he’d stayed away.
    Celia slept fitfully in a strange room, waking now and then in confusion. She could not seem to shake off the edginess of the evening.
    After she had prepared a chamber for the strangers, she had thought of readying one beside Margaret’s for herself, but was uncertain whether the reunited couple would wish for more privacy. Or whether Roger would spend the night – after all that she had suffered, Margaret might not wish him to share her bed. The sun was low in the sky and the evening cool. Celia’s stomach rumbled and her mouth was dry. But if she went into the tavern someone might ask after Margaret, and Celia had not yet settled on what to say. She has a guest? She is on an errand? Visiting … who? At the kirk, perhaps. She slipped inside the little maid’s hut between the two kitchens, Murdoch’s and the tavern’s, and settled on a bench by the window where she could watch for Margaret on the steps.
    Dusk came and there was still no sign of Margaret. At last, starving, parched and cold, Celia went into the tavern. It was almost empty.
    ‘Folk fear the English are watching us to see if more corpses crawl out of the wynd,’ Sim said.
    As if his unpleasant conversation were not penance enough, Celia glanced up to find James Comyn walking towards her with his tankard in hand. He slipped on to the bench opposite her.
    ‘Though the day was warm there is a chill in the air this even,’ he said. ‘Where will you bide while your mistress is entertaining her husband?’
    Celia should not have been surprised that he already knew of Roger’s presence, but there was