Flame (27 page)

“I’ll not leave you down here any longer, my
sweet. You can argue all you want, but you’re coming with me.”

Gavin was right in his assumption that the
killer hiding in the shadows across the way was indeed aware of her
presence beneath the keep. Joanna’s mind flashed back to Mater and
Margaret in the crypt. Margaret had left the vault first, but even
so, Mater would have had ample time to arrive at the bridge and cut
the lines. But how would she have known of the two men’s
whereabouts, Joanna wondered? Perhaps she had simply seized the
opportunity that Hell’s Gate offered her.

Again, Gavin’s concerns worked to disturb her
thoughts. If, as she was inclined to believe, Mater had cut the
ropes, then she knew of Joanna’s presence in the caverns. If she
did, she would not rest until she had finished what she had set out
to do when they had lit the fires in the south wing months ago.

Joanna’s mind raced. If that were the case,
how could she follow through with her plans to avenge her parents’
deaths? Nay, Gavin was correct. It would be best to return with him
and rethink what must be done from the relative safety of the
keep.

But there were problems with that as
well.

“How would I explain where I’ve been?”

“You have no need. You owe no explanation to
anyone,” he answered. “In fact, let me take care of the
details.”

“But what are
you
going to say?”

“Only what needs to be said, lass,” he said
confidently. “I’ll mention that you came upon the two of us hanging
from a rope in the chasm and managed to save our lives. But as to
your whereabouts prior to that moment, from what we can gather, you
remember nothing after the fire.”

She tried to find fault in what he had just
said, but couldn’t. Suddenly concerned with another thought, she
looked into his eyes questioningly. “You’ll not try to protect me
by sending me back to court to my grandmother, now, would you? No
matter what she says or demands or requests, I am to stay at
Ironcross Castle with you.”

A small smile tugged at corner of his
handsome mouth as he nodded his agreement. “But that is only on the
condition that you promise to marry me as soon as I settle the
business of your betrothal with Gordon.”

She paused, struggling to ignore the sudden
ache in her chest at the thought that she might not live through
the next full moon, that dispensing justice to the women of the
abbey would put a quick end to the possibility of such a life, a
marriage, children of her own. Joanna drew in a deep breath.

But then, there was no reason for Gavin to
know her thoughts. If things were different, if her life were her
own, if she could be a women with dreams and plans like any other
her age, then marrying Gavin Kerr would be a grand and exciting
thing. Perhaps all she could ever wish for.

“Aye,” she said brightly, hiding the sadness
that was crushing the life from her. “I will marry you.”

The Earl of Athol’s face, suddenly ashen,
said it all.

Gavin watched warily as the Highlander
brought a shaky hand to his bandaged head. Seeing the man’s
bloodshot eyes snap at him with a look of contempt mixed with
disbelief, Gavin questioned his own decision to break the news to
his injured guest so soon.

He knew how taken John Stewart was with
Joanna. Yesterday, behaving like some abbey school boy, Athol had
never taken his eyes off of her--not from the moment they began
working their way back up to the keep. Gavin was willing to ignore
it then, but something he could not quite identify--something he
had no wish to identify--had made Gavin anxious to put an immediate
end to the Highlander’s attentions to
his
future wife.

“You jest,” Athol growled, finally finding
his voice. “This talk of marrying Joanna--this is just your
miserable sense of humor. Tell me that is all ‘tis.”

“Nay,” Gavin put in determinedly, holding his
ground. “I’m planning to marry Joanna MacInnes. ‘Tis the right
thing to do, all things considered.”

Taking hold of the back of the chair he had
flown out of a moment earlier, John Stewart’s eyes flashed with
anger. “You? Impossible! ‘Tis bad enough she is already betrothed
to that blackguard James Gordon.”

“Never mind that! She
was
promised to
him, but that was nearly a year ago. Everyone in Scotland thinks
she is dead.”

“But that makes no difference.” Athol scowled
and banged his hand on the chair. “Och, you’ve got the brain of a
marmoset! She’s still his, you fool!”

“She wishes to break off the agreement,”
Gavin corrected stubbornly. “I have already talked to her, Athol.
She has consented to become my wife. So this morning, I sent my man
Edmund to Gordon’s place near Huntly with a letter.”

“Wait!” Athol snapped. “You cannot possibly
think she means it. By the devil, the woman has been underground
for the last six months. She more than likely has yet to gather her
wits about her.”

“There is nothing wrong with her mind. You,
on the other hand...”

“What is your hurry?” Athol snapped angrily,
obviously frustrated. “You do not need her gold. As far as this
castle is concerned, I know that the holding is nothing compared to
all you have in the Borders. I don’t even know why you came up here
in the first place.”

“They told me in Stirling that the weather
here was unmatched anywhere in Scotland.”

“Aye, that may be true enough.”

Gavin eyed Athol, wondering for a moment that
he had taken the jest seriously.

“But listen,” John Stewart continued, “even
if you only wanted the lands, thinking to become another one of the
line of little seen lairds of Ironcross, you have no need to marry
her. Angus has already given you all of it, not that the holding
will yield you much if you are not here to see to it. Look man,
when it comes down to it, the fact that Joanna is alive will make
no difference if you want to keep the land!”

“What you say is true. ‘Tis not for title or
fortune that I have asked for her hand. But all I can tell you is
that--and Joanna and I both agree--‘tis the right thing to do.”

Athol stared open-mouthed in disbelief.
“That’s it?” he spluttered finally. “‘Tis
right
?”

Gavin raised a hand. “Joanna has every wish
to stay at Ironcross Castle and see that justice is brought to bear
on the one--or the ones--responsible for her parents’
deaths...”

“So you are forcing her to marry you in
exchange for her wish to stay! This is madness on her part, and you
are the lowest, base born, knavish, son of a...”

“Stop, dog, before you go too far! I tell you
I’m forcing nothing!” This time Gavin was the one who was shouting,
surprised that the unfairness of John Stewart’s accusation had
stung him so. “The desire to learn more about Joanna and her
parents’ fate was the main reason that drove me here in the first
place. From the very beginning--before we ever met--there was
something that drew me to her.”

“Bah!” Athol scoffed, reinforcing his vocal
expression of disbelief with a dismissive wave of his hands. “Now
you expect me to believe you--a baboon in a stolen kilt--have come
like a lover out of a French romance to save the lady in
distress.”

“I expect a black hearted dog like you to
believe nothing but the rope that finally hangs you!” The two men
glared at one another for a moment before Gavin continued. “I don’t
know why I’m even telling you this, but I was...well, curious about
her from the moment I first spoke with Lady MacInnes. And since I
arrived at Ironcross Castle, everything about her has haunted me,
day and night.” Gavin looked directly into the other man’s eyes.
“Is it so difficult for you to understand that I...that I’m fond of
her and she, as well, likes what she sees in me? Is it so...”

“Difficult?” Athol exploded. “By the devil,
‘tis impossible! Aside from looking at you--which would be enough
to frighten to death a flock of sheep--she hasn’t had time to learn
anything about you! Before yesterday, she hadn’t even met you!” The
Highlander eyed the laird suspiciously. “What have you been doing
while I’ve been confined to this chamber?”

Gavin wished he had been able to spend time
with her. But with all that had to be done, he and Joanna had
actually seen very little of one another.

“I think you have intentionally drugged me
with the potions that witch of a cook has been sending up.” The
Highlander waved a hand in the direction of the jars and pitchers
sitting on a table beside the bed. “You did that so you could have
your way with her.”

“You are just angry because she prefers me to
you,” Gavin interrupted abruptly. “Why not accept the fact that
Joanna has once again--and this time finally--decided on another?
She does not want to wed
you
!”

Scowling darkly, Athol sank back in the chair
and looked up into Gavin’s face. “Is that what she told you?”

Gavin lowered his voice and looked steadily
at the man. “You should speak to her yourself if you wish to
understand her feelings. All I can say is that she refers to you as
a valuable friend, one whom she would not care to lose. She has
very few people left in this world, so don’t be rash in your
thinking about her.”

The Earl of Athol stared, and as Gavin looked
back, he could see the emotions flickering across the man’s
face.

“Aye,” Athol said finally. “I
will
talk to Joanna, and I
will
question her motives. But in the
meantime I need to know something more about you. Something that
will assure me that you are indeed deserving of her hand.”

“You are an arrogant, overreaching man, to be
sure.”

“Aye,” Athol nodded, with a smile tugging at
the corner of his mouth. “And all I know of you is that you are a
gruff, warlike bear of a Lowlander with quick hands and a sure
grip. But what does that have to do with making you a fit husband
for the lass or even a good laird?”

Feeling the tension slide smoothly from the
space between them, Gavin dragged a chair from the wall and took a
seat, as well. “Ah, so this was the cause of your argument with
John MacInnes the night he died. You were questioning James
Gordon’s worthiness in having Joanna’s hand?”

“Aye.” Athol nodded, his face growing grim,
and in his eyes, the weariness of one remembering a battle
fought--and lost--long ago. “I have known her since she was a wee
thing, no bigger than my two hands. I always thought her deserving
of no less than the best man Scotland could offer.”

“You are a greater fool than I thought, John
Stewart, thinking that your place as a friend gives you the right
to question her father’s choice.”

Sitting erect in his chair, Athol’s eyes
suddenly flashed with indignation. “Aye, but here he was, giving
his precious daughter to Gordon, the devil take him. A womanizer
and a scoundrel at that! And for what? For the sole purpose of
keeping her a few more miles from Ironcross Castle! What kind of
thinking is that? To make a decision based on a fear of demons and
old curses!”

“Considering how many kin John MacInnes lost
in this keep, how can you blame the man?”

The skin on Athol’s taut face flushed a ruddy
shade. “That night, I called him a fool and told him how
wrongheaded he was. Hours later, he lost his life and proved me the
fool. He didn’t want Joanna exposed to the evils that he believed
surround this keep. But here we are today, and I cannot stop you
from going against his wishes.”

“‘Tis all different now.”

“Is it?”

Gavin's face grew fierce. “Aye. Joanna has
been exposed to the worst of whatever this place has to offer. In
these months past, she has suffered and she has lived through it
all. Even if John MacInnes were alive today, he would agree that
Joanna today is a far different woman than she was that night. I
tell you she is a woman whose heart is full of pain, and yet she
still seeks to bring justice--and life--to this godforsaken
castle.”

“All the more reason, then, to get her out of
here,” Athol stressed. “Perhaps ‘tis best for her to marry James
Gordon after all, or at least to return to court and Lady
MacInnes.”

Gavin shook his head, his voice barely more
than a low growl. “If you were in her position, is that what you
would wish for yourself? To skulk away and leave those murders
unavenged?”

“But she is a woman! By His Blood, she has
already seen more pain and more...”

“Hold, Athol.” Gavin broke in. “Be her friend
and not her father. Joanna MacInnes is great deal stronger than you
might think. Think of what you and I went through yesterday. I
wonder if either of us would have been able to survive in that maze
of darkness for six months--as she did!”

“Curses or not, there is an evil that lurks
in these walls. Death hangs over the place like a shroud!”

“Be it so, she and I will face that
together,” Gavin asserted confidently. “Six months ago, the words
of a curse struck fear into the hearts of folks in these parts. But
today I know it to be the foul work not of some demon, but of
someone made of flesh and blood. One vulnerable enough to fear
being discovered. One who needed the edge of a blade to send us
nearly through the gates of hell.”

Athol’s deep frown told Gavin that the
Highlander was considering everything that he’d just said. But in
case if he wasn’t convinced, there was more that Gavin could tell
him.

At about the same time that he’d sent Edmund
off to meet with James Gordon, Gavin had also given Peter the
mission of searching out the priest who had served as chaplain here
before Father William. Gavin knew that the chances were slim of
Peter finding the man still living, but if he could, Gavin was
certain he could learn a great deal more about the history of the
keep.