“I will have proof of your marriage,” Brynjar shouted.
Royden came to stand beside his brother after he dismounted, while his men fanned out behind Brynjar’s men. She was surprised to see that Wolf’s warriors, camped just outside the village, had joined them as well.
Her father finally spoke up. “This can be settled easily.” He looked to his daughter. “Where was your marriage recorded?”
“Stitchill Monastery,” Purity said, praying Brother Noble recorded it.
“I’ll send a missive there immediately and we’ll have an answer in a few days,” Galvin said as if the matter was settled.
“And I’m simply to take the word of someone at this monastery?” Brynjar asked, not the least bit satisfied.
“I’ll request the Abbott himself bring us the finding, then there will be no question about it,” Galvin said. “You can camp on the outskirts of the village until word arrives.”
“No, he’ll camp farther away or not at all,” Arran ordered.
“I’m chieftain here and my word is law,” Galvin said and Purity was surprised to hear that her father’s words lacked the strength they once had. Or did his words no longer hold the power she’d once given them?
“Then my wife and I will reside at MacKinnon keep until this is done,” Arran said.
“My daughter remains here,” Galvin ordered.
“Your daughter goes where I go and don’t bother to argue. You won’t win,” Arran said and turned to his brother. “Give me time to gather our things.”
“No. No,” Galvin said, shaking his head. “Stay. My daughter is finally home. I don’t wish to lose her again.”
Purity didn’t believe his claim and while he hadn’t been a loving father, she did worry at what might happen to him if left alone with Brynjar, especially with him looking as ill as he did.
Galvin turned to Brynjar. “There is a spot by the creek where you can camp.”
Brynjar nodded at Galvin and turned a nasty smile on Arran. “You’d be wise to recall your stay at my home and even wiser to remember I always get what I want.” He looked back at Galvin. “Take me to this spot you mentioned.”
Galvin went to oblige and Arran stopped him.
“No, Galvin. You’ll tell him where to go. We have things to discuss,” Arran said, his eyes set in an angry glare on Brynjar. “I do know you well. YOU should remember that.” He turned a quick glance to Galvin. “Tell him what path to take and send him on his way.”
Arran turned away from the hulky Northman.
Spittle flew from Brynjar’s mouth as he threatened, “You’ll rue the day—”
Arran swerved around, his dark eyes burning with fiery anger as he sliced through the man’s words, cutting them off like a sharp blade. “I look forward to it. Now get off my land.”
“I’ll see that he leaves and meet you inside,” Royden said and went and joined his men while Galvin hurried a furious Brynjar away.
“Quiver,” Arran called out and the slim man hurried over to him. “Keep watch from atop the keep steps, if Brynjar or any of his men approach fire a warning shot. If they keep coming, make sure the next arrow stops them. I’ll see you relieved of your position later.”
“Aye, sir,” Quiver said and he went and positioned himself not far from the door.
Arran took his wife’s arm. “We’ll talk inside.”
Purity went to walk with him when the pain in her leg had her grabbing tight to her husband’s arm to stop from collapsing.
Arran scooped her up. “What’s wrong?”
“My leg,” she said and squeezed her eyes shut against the throb, not that it helped.
Arran let several oaths fly as he hurried her into the keep.
When he went to rush her through the Great Hall to the stairs, she told him to stop.
“I will talk with my father here, not our bedchamber,” she said.
He muttered under his breath and reluctantly sat her on a bench by one of the tables. He lifted the hem of her shift high enough to take a look at her leg and his rage returned. A sizeable spot on the side of her slim leg looked as if it continued to darken in front of his eyes.
Purity explained quickly. “He went to kick Princess and King.”
“And you stepped in to protect them,” he said annoyed she had done what he should have been there to do. “I’ll send for Wren.”
“Not necessary. I’ve seen what she does for a bruise. Comfrey will help heal it.”
“You might have suffered a break,” he said, worry stirring in him, since some breaks led to death.
“If he had had more room to swing his leg I might have, but he didn’t, so gratefully it’s only a bruise and will heal.” She rested her hand to his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
He placed his hand on top of hers, pressing the warmth of her palm harder against his cheek then turning his head just enough so his lips could settle a kiss on her palm. “And home is where I’ll stay.”