Page 87 of The Falcon Laird
“I am not your enemy, Christian MacGillan. I am not. After the other day, surely you see that.”
“I do now,” she said quickly. “But all that came after I saw my cousin. I did want to tell you, Gavin. I did. I trust you as a man, as my husband. It is King Edward I do not trust, nor his hold on your life. It frightens me. I could not endanger you by telling you. Better you had no part in it.”
“I see. I also see your loyalty is ever for Scotland and your kin.”
“And you now. Once my loyalties were simple. No longer. Now I love an English husband.”
He glanced at her. “And I love a Scottish wife.” He reached his hand across the gap between their horses. She stretched to take it, both gloved. After a moment he let go.
“Do you believe I meant no betrayal?” she asked.
“I do. I can understand now why you said nothing of it. So I should tell you that late last night, I spoke with Bruce too.”
Startled, she nearly laughed. “And did not tell me?”
“I owed him an honorable debt for saving your life and all the rest. We spoke, and agreed that he is free to come and go there as he judges, so long as no one can discover it. We know the risks. We know Hastings.”
“Thank you.”
“But do not think it makes a Scots rebel out of me, lady.”
“We shall see,” she said. “So, am I your prisoner, as Hastings ordered?”
“Do not tempt me,” he drawled. “I envy Bruce, I think. The loyalty in your fierce little Scottish heart is a fine thing. I want that too.”
“You have it of me, and more,” she said.
Ahead, he sawthe spire and profile of Crossraguel Abbey, and glanced over at Christian. On this cold, damp journey, he was touched by her steadfastness, and knew she was distressed over her loyalties and his, wanting them to match and merge. He did,too. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss the misery from her sweet, solemn face. He loved her more deeply, now, than he could comprehend. The differences in loyalty frightened her more than it did him. Both of them needed to feel solid trust in the other. No matter what changes whirled around them, that must be a constant.
They halted to rest and water the horses from a small burn, and he waited as Christian knelt to scoop water with cupped hands and drink. God, he loved her, he thought. It struck him like a blow, utter truth made real. She sparked like a candle flame in his shadowed heart. He was only grateful for it, and must remind himself of it more often.
She looked up at the faint cry of a bird overhead. “A falcon,” she said, pointing.
He looked up to see a pale shadow gliding through a drift of fog. “There she goes. Gone to join her mate, perhaps. Or searching for a high place to rest.”
“True freedom,” she said, head tilted back. “See how it flies and swoops. So beautiful. So free.”
“Aye, beautiful.” Gavin looked only at her. “We are nearly at the abbey, I think.”
“I know the way. Another league or so,” she said.
“It is a longer way than I expected. I should have let you stay at the castle.”
“I would have come with you no matter what, I think. Just to be with you.” She smiled.
“Thank you. Fergus will meet us there, and you can spend the rest of the day there. I will go on to Ayr Castle for the meeting and be back tomorrow. Promise me you and Fergus will keep out of trouble.”
“Surrounded by monks and prayer, we will have no choice. Are promises good between us again?” she asked then. “Mine have always been good.”
He stood. “Mine too, love. Come ahead.” He held out his hand. “A day of prayer will not hurt, now that you are reinstated. Pray for me, if you will.”
“Of course. But why?”
“I have a rebellious wee wife, and I am doing my best to understand her.”
“Pardoned?” Gavin asked,incredulous. “Lady Christian has been pardoned, not just reinstated in excommunication?”
Scowling, Hastings tossed the parchment page that he held, marked with the royal seal, onto the table. “Your wife has been pardoned along with all the other outlawed supporters of Robert Bruce not currently imprisoned. Edward has sent copies of this writ to his commanders.”
