Page 27 of The Falcon Laird
“Aye,” Gavin agreed ruefully. “We are surely doomed if he finds this out. At least I am.”
John grunted assent. “What other orders did he give you? Gold and such?”
“Gold! I do not know if it exists there and I do not care if it is ever found. Edward ordered me to hold Kilglassie for the English and join the search for Robert Bruce. I have little interest in that either, but I will claim the castle and land.”
“The abbot made it clear the lady cannot stay here at Sweetheart Abbey.” John shrugged. “Even if it was founded by a lady in memory of her lord.”
“She must go with us, despite the risks.”
“What o’ Dominy and the wee lad?”
“They’ll come as well. I will decide more later, once the king sends a garrison.”
“You know, lad, Lady Christian will be a help there. She kens the land and the people. She was wed to an English soldier once before and was lady in that castle when ’twas garrisoned.”
Gavin smiled, flat and bitter. “I misdoubt the lady will speak to me again, let alone help me.”
“It is a muddle, this.”
“I am concerned, John. Finding out about the marriage was a shock to her. She could still fail and die of this illness if it lingers.”
“Ach. She isna like Jehanne. That Scottish lassie has a strong will. Lady Christian does not ken how to die, or she woulda done it weeks ago in that wicked cage.”
“You may be right. But I had to tell her the truth.”
“You did.”
“And she must go there with me. Edward finally granted me land and a castle, as he promised. I will not give them up easily.”
John grunted. “Even though the lands are in Scotland. Not what you expected.”
“Even then. And if Edward declares me a traitor over this muddle, he will have to siege that castle to get it away from me.”
“Angel Knight, is it? Too much the rebel for that any longer. You’ve a devil’s way when you want.”
Gavin shrugged. “When it serves, I do.”
Chapter Seven
Her tenacity amazedhim. Gavin shifted in his saddle and glanced once again at the curtain-enclosed litter that swayed on poles balanced between his horse and John’s. The girl behind those curtains had survived a lung fever that could have taken down a toughened man in a matter of hours.
She had remarkable will. He had never seen anyone heal so quickly, or with such determination. Even now, on this journey, he had heard little more than her occasional cough. Despite blankets and furs and hot stones, he knew that the three-day ride would be jostling, chilly, and uncomfortable for her. Yet Lady Christian uttered no word of complaint. In fact, she had barely spoken to him.
He sighed. Dominy’s small son had created more of a concern due to natural restlessness, his boredom alleviated only when he rode with John or Gavin. Tired from an earlier stint on John’s horse, William had fallen asleep riding in his mother’s lap, while she guided her gray charger ahead of the others along the burnside.
Traveling slowly because of the litter, they had left the abbey to head northwest toward the soaring round-tipped hills of central Galloway, following a river and then a wide burn to ride through a stunning landscape of wide moors, blue-glass lochs, rugged slopes, forests, and fast-tumbling burns. The air was clear and crisp, and the dark mountains in the distance held fascinating power.
Today, the weather was colder, with biting winds and wet, spitting snow. Riding along, Gavin scanned the craggy hills and pine forests, watching warily for Scots eager to attack a party of English.
Glancing again at the swaying litter, he thought about the woman inside; she would probably welcome an attack by Scots. She made it clear that she was furious with him and any English. When he had lifted her into the litter as they set out, her tight-lipped, cold-eyed stare bit him like a bee’s sting. He had never seen a green like ice. Nor did she let up. She had chilled him with that gaze only an hour ago.
Yet just nights ago, her condition had been so severe that he did not think she would survive. He was tremendously relieved; he had begun to care deeply about her, an intense feeling made him uneasy. He admired her spirit and willpower, but did not otherwise understand why he felt so strongly about her.
Well, he reminded himself, she was his wife now; that ought to be reason enough. And he further reminded himself that Lady Christian was different from quiet, shy Jehanne, who never showed anger or even expressed a strong opinion in the three years of their marriage. She had been a sweet, fetching beauty soon drained by ill health despite prayers and efforts—a fading blossom withering to a shadow as he had watched.
He had watched Lady Christian fade, too. Then, like a miracle rose bursting on a dry midwinter vine, she had revived. He could not explain it, though now he thought it might be due to sheer stubborn will and temper.
He was baffled by the situation. The current of his life seemed plotted with unexpected twists. A fortnight ago, he had followed King Edward’s orders—partially—and wed a dying Scottish rebel. Now she lived, and he would have to make peace with a wife who despised English knights. And King Edward would not be pleased by this turn of events. He could condemnthe lot of them once he learned of her survival, and worse, her freedom. If Gavin been faithful to the king’s orders, Lady Christian would be in an English convent now. Instead, he was taking her to Kilglassie, acting independently, which had brought him trouble in the past. Now he simply courted danger by taking her north without royal permission. His sympathy for the girl had earned not only the lady’s fury, but a risk of treason.
