Page 26 of The Falcon Laird
“He had his reasons.”
“The English king’s reasons serve only himself,” she muttered. Her hand closed over the bread loaf. She picked it up and threw it wildly. Gavin caught it, laid it aside. Next she shoved the bowl of soup off the table beside her, wishing she could fling it full in his face. He stepped back as the hot liquid spread across the rushes.
“Get out!” she shouted. She shoved back the bed covers and stood, the ragged gown hanging on her thin frame. Though her legs faltered, she stepped toward him, drawing strength fromrage. Each step was pure, seething will and temper. She felt betrayed. Reaching him, she shoved at his chest. “Get out!”
He grabbed her wrist. “Stop,” he said firmly. “It is not so bad as you think. Stop, or you will make yourself more ill.” His eyes were dark now, grim and hard as the frown on his face.
She fisted her hand, caught in his, and glared up at him. Why had she not noticed that stony look before, an expression she had seen in the eyes of so many English knights? How could she have thought him compassionate and caring? Perfect—even angelic?
“Sassenach!” she rasped out. “Damned Sassenach knight!” She struggled, flailing at him. Trapped by his grip, twisting, she began to sob in angry bursts that ripped, raw and hurting, from her. “Now I know why you took me from the cage!” Her breath heaved painfully in her throat, but the angry words poured out. “You and your greedy king want the gold of Kilglassie. The king sent others to find it. But I did not tell them where it was, and I will never tell you. I would die first.”
“You nearly did,” he snapped. “Christian, enough.”
“Enough!” Her chest burned with each breath. “Enough, aye, what the English have done in Scotland. And now they would take our treasures as well!”
Her knees gave way, and she stumbled against him, twisting in futile protest when he lifted her into his arms and crossed to lay her on the bed. He sat beside her and pushed her back against the pillows.
“Hush. Be calm.”
“Do not touch me. You betrayed me. Let me go!” She pushed at him, but his hands on her shoulders felt like broad bands of iron, fixed and unyielding.
“No one betrayed you,” he growled.
“I thought I was safe with you!”
“You are. Listen to me. You are.”
With the next angry sob, her breath seemed to freeze in her throat. She gasped for air, coughing, then caught her breath again as she twisted within his grip. “Leave me!”
“Be calm, for the love of God.” He rubbed her shoulder. The tender touch brought tears to her eyes.
She turned her head away. “Aladh oirbh,” she muttered.
“I do not understand Gaelic.”
“A plague on your head. Now leave me alone. Do not touch me again.” She twisted away.
He sighed and lifted his hands. She felt him rise from the bed, then heard the door close.
Then she curled with her head in her arms and sobbed, releasing tears of anger held too long, and new, sad tears of loss.
“Will you doas the king ordered, then, and put her in a convent?” John asked.
Gavin shook his head and swirled the wine cup in his hand. “I would not put her in any convent left to Edward’s protection, and you know why.” He glanced at his uncle, who sat across from him. The brazier at their feet glowed hot and red, providing the only light in the bedchamber they shared.
“I know why. But such a virago for a wife would scare even me,” John said. “The monks heard her shouting when they left chapel. The abbot was not pleased.”
Gavin lifted a brow. “I was not overpleased myself. But what am I to do? I cannot consign her to a nunnery, though Edward ordered it. She is my wife. The king did not think through his plans for me.”
“The king expected her to die.”
“We all expected her to die, John.”
“But she grows stronger, and Edward did not say what to do if she lived.”
“True.” Gavin sat forward, thinking. “If he hears of this, he could lay a charge of treason on my head for disobedience unless I confine her somewhere or bring her back to Carlisle. He will quickly forget that I married her on his order—his whim.”
“Partly your own whim, lad. For the land, and for the sight of her, I trow, so near death. It will be a miracle we both escape execution for removing her from the cage as we did.”
