Page 25 of The Falcon Laird
Truly angels had sent Sir Gavin to her. She almost giggled. A little health and a little fancy of love had gone to her head quick as new wine.
“Lady,” he said solemnly. “In a little church just outside Carlisle, I made certain that the last rites were said over you before the excommunication was done.”
“Thank you. That was kindly done.”
“And then the priest married us.”
She blinked. “What? Married?” she echoed, confused. “You are my husband now?”
“By king’s orders. I was not sure you remembered taking the vows with me.”
She shook her head. “I do not recall it.”
“You were very ill. But the king commanded that vows be said between us.”
She nodded. “My cousin has been concerned for my welfare, so he might order that. But I do not even know your full name. Or your clan.”
“Clan?” he repeated. “Cousin?”
“My cousin, King Robert Bruce. But you know that. He sent you to Carlisle to rescue me.”
Sir Gavin let out a breath and shoved his fingers through his hair. He stood, the rope bed shifting. “He did not. I wed you on orders from King Edward.”
Cold dread crawled through her. “King Edward?”
“I am an English knight in his circle. I thought you knew.”
She sat up slowly, staring at him. He frowned, had been scowling all along. Now she knew why. He had been forced to wed a Scotswoman. She was still in the hands of the enemy. She was still in danger.
“English? You are English? But your companion spoke Scots. You rescued me from that cage! No Englishman would have done that. You cannot be English!” she blurted, her voice a low rasp. Her rapid breaths took on a wheezing sound.
“My uncle. He is a Scotsman.”
“What is your name?” she demanded. “Sir Gavin—of what family?”
“Sir Gavin Faulkener. I have lately been King Edward’s ambassador to France.”
“O Dhia,” she said. “Oh God. Faulkener!”
“Lady Christian—”
Her breath came in tight little gasps. His words thundered through her mind. Sassenach. English—and another Faulkener! Was he a brother or cousin to her late husband Henry? WhoeverGavin Faulkener was, he had no loyalty to Scotland or the Bruce. He had no real thought of kindness for her.
She had been wrong. So wrong. She felt as if King Edward reached out once again to harm her and her family, and as if the health and joy she had found began to drain away.
“Why did you take me out of Carlisle and then wed me, and I all unaware?”
“I hold the charter for Kilglassie Castle now.” His voice was deep and soft. She hated his gentleness.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she leaned her forehead against her updrawn knees. Her whole body trembled with shock. “What else? Is there more I must know?”
“God knows I did not mean to upset you. But this is so. I am English, I am your husband now, and I was awarded the castle. But I never meant you any harm.”
“No harm? Awarded my castle as laird of Kilglassie? Oh but you English say baron, not laird.” Her voice rose higher, cracking with hoarseness and shock. “Did you rescue me at your king’s orders?”
“He gave permission for your release.” He sounded cautious.
“Permission! He condemned me to that cage. Why would he let me go?” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, straightening to face him. Her whole body shook with the effort.
