Susan King - [Celtic Nights 02] (26 page)

The warmth he had shown her at Avenel had cooled. She missed that easy affection—but Avenel had been a dream, and they were all awake now.

She found his subtle expressions and moods readable, as if she knew him well. Sometimes his dark handsomeness had a hard, compelling edge, when sharpened by anger and impatience. At other moments he seemed more angelic, even boyish, laughing with Laurie or glancing around quickly for her reaction.

Always, though, she saw in him an awareness and concern for others, like a golden thread in all he did. She marveled at it. If his king had been half as decent as this one knight, she thought, Scotland would have no war and no tyrant.

As she rode on, she succumbed further to the charm of brown eyes framed in thick black lashes, to his tilted smile, to the low timbre of his voice, as if—

Her breath caught. As if she were in love.
This is not the way,
she told herself sternly,
that a captive regards a captor, that one enemy studies another.

Yet it is the way,
a gentle voice in her head answered,
that a woman looks at the man she desires. It is the way a wife regards her beloved husband: admiring, fascinated, loving.

Sighing, wondering if it was so, she rode on.

* * *

The three horses spread out, spacing one behind another, to follow a narrow drover's track up a long, steep hill. The wind blew harder as they rose higher. Gawain slowed the bay to ride beside Juliana, while Laurie rode ahead, out of hearing.

"I must speak to you," Gawain said. "De Soulis told me news of your brothers."

"Alec and Iain?" She spoke quickly.

"The two with Robert Bruce."

"Niall and Will. Are they—?" Her eyes showed true alarm.

"They live," he assured her, and heard her sigh in relief. "They were taken at Methven, and may be ransomed for return."

"Where are they kept?"

"I only know that they were listed as prisoners on the roll sent to the guardians of the realm of Scotland."

She nodded. When she lifted her head to gaze at the purple mountains that rose above the moorland, he saw the gleam of tears in her eyes. One tear slipped down, and another, and his heart turned with the sight. He could not bear it.

"My kin and I cannot pay a ransom," she said.

"Juliana, I will make no guarantee," he said carefully. "But I will inquire about them, and see what can be done."

A fat tear slid down her cheek as she nodded mute thanks.

"What of the other two?" he asked. "You did not tell me of them, nor that they are in De Soulis's custody—he told me himself."

"I assumed you would not help them. They would be rebels too, if they had the chance. And if my elder brothers are released, they will fight the English again. 'Twould be unwise for you to help the Lindsay brothers. Your king would be much displeased. You should not risk his wrath for the sake of some young lads."

"I have a heart," he snapped. "Though you think I do not."

"I think you do," she said quietly. "'Tis what frightens me most." Clucking to the palfrey, she passed him.

He watched her go, and blew out a long breath in frustration. Spurring Gringolet, he surged up the hill past the palfrey and struck out over the drover's track to catch up to Laurie. At least, he thought, he need wrestle no challenges from that quarter.

"What do you think your wee Scots swan wants of you?" Laurie asked Gawain almost as soon as he caught up to him.

He shrugged. "To be free," he answered. "To go home. She wants naught more from me, I can tell you that." He scowled.

"Nay? I notice that while she may be cool as ice, there is a true fire in her eyes for you. And a fire in your own, for her. It just makes me curious. I have seen you besotted, but never like this." Laurie gave him a quick, appraising glance.

"I am not besotted," Gawain ground out. "Nor is she." He was tempted to ride far ahead for a while, where no one would speak to him. He needed silence, as did Juliana again—she now lagged far behind, he saw, as he glanced quickly at her.

"Are you sure she doesna want wee English babes with you? Sweet dark-eyed Avenel bairnies, who will grow up privileged at court, marry well, and own land on both sides of the border?"

Gawain slid him a long look. "I assure you, she does not want that," he said firmly.

"So what do you want? I am just curious," Laurie said, smiling mildly. "I am a wondering sort of man."

To find Glenshie, Gawain wanted to say; to find my home, and learn the truth—about many things. But he would not tell even Laurie, not yet. He frowned as he guided his horse along the ridge of the hill, its slopes thick with early heather blooms.

Overhead, a flock of ducks arrowed through the sky. He glanced up. "I want to be free as well," he answered. "Free of this infernal questioning."

Laurie grinned fleetingly. "What else to do on a long journey but talk, eh?"

"And free of this ridiculous task that the king has set for me. The real question is what the king wants. We may pay dearly for leaving De Soulis's company."

"Why should we? No one stole the king's golden chains. Well, if you must prepare another apology, I will help you pen it. I have a knack for words."

"I am done begging for king's peace."

"'Tis obvious to everyone—except the Master of Swans—that you acted within your rights as a husband in taking her away from De Soulis. He was mistreating her. She will still be in English custody at Elladoune, so there is no harm done."

"If I am lucky," Gawain muttered.

Laurie drew a breath and looked around. "My God, Scotland is a beautiful land. I seem to forget that when I am away."

And I have never forgotten,
Gawain thought,
not for a moment.
But he kept it to himself.

* * *

Patting her horse's neck, Juliana let Galienne stay back. Ahead, Gawain and Laurence Kirkpatrick traveled side by side: one dark, lean, and quiet, the other broad, his laughter rippling, his gestures wide and free.

Rain clouds hovered above as they moved north. Juliana looked around with rapture, as if she saw Scotland for the first time—beautiful, wild, exuberant, and vivid. As they left the rolling Lowlands and moved into the rumpled, heathered skirt of the Highland hills, she regretted her silence, for she could not share her joy in her surroundings so easily.

The horses slowed as they climbed hills thick with heather and yellow gorse and green ferns, past walls of dark rock where bright flowers danced in crevices. Hawks called in high flight, sheep moved like tiny clouds over distant slopes, and red deer skimmed the crests of the hills.

She lifted her face to the cool, clean wind and breathed Scotland into her lungs and her soul.

When the sun sank and the sky turned lavender, Juliana recognized the shape of the hills and knew that she was near home at last. She sat straighter, felt brighter despite fatigue. The wind touched her like a friend.

They rode past Highland herders in belted plaids and shirts, urging their sheep along the slopes as the enemy rode past;

elsewhere, they saw women in plaid shawls, with bare feet beneath simple gowns, watching them with wary eyes. Several bare-legged, pink-cheeked, curious children made her think of her younger brothers. She had not seen Alec and Iain in so long that her heart ached with need, as if she were their own mother separated from them.

Soon,
she told herself.
Soon, soon.

She urged her horse forward and soon caught up to Gawain and Laurence. Gawain glanced back at her and smiled briefly.

"Now that an English escort has been seen riding north, word will spread that we are here," Laurence remarked to Gawain.

Juliana listened with interest whenever the Lowland Scot spoke, for she liked his mellow voice and easy manner. He intrigued and puzzled her. She had already learned that he was a boyhood friend of Gawain's, and was a Scotsman who sided openly with the English.

"Aye, they will spread the word," Gawain agreed, "and since we have a Scotswoman in our company, hopefully we will have no trouble from the locals."

"Unless they think to rescue her from the enemy," Laurence remarked, glancing at Juliana.

"'Tis possible. We are close enough to Elladoune now that some of these people may recognize her." Gawain and Laurence glanced up as two children ran like young deer and disappeared over a hill. Juliana watched them go, too.

"No doubt they carry word that the Swan Maiden of Elladoune is on her way home." Gawain turned to glance at her.

"You know the area well to know where we are," Laurie said.

"I rode through these hills long ago," Gawain answered. "I have never forgotten the way." He sounded thoughtful.

Juliana frowned. Although he was an English knight, he sounded almost like he was a man glad to be in Scotland again.

"Well, at least we are close to Elladoune," Laurence said. "God gave me a lazy nature. Journeying is not for me. A seat by the hearth, a cup of ale, a soft bed—give me those night after night and I am content. That is, if a decent bed and decent ale can be had at this castle," he added wryly.

"We shall find out," Gawain said. "We will cross a narrow pass between those two hills"—he pointed—"and enter a forest, if I remember properly. The woodlands are considerable in this part of the Highlands, but there have been king's troops in this area for years. The paths should be well marked. Is it so, my lady?" His dark gaze swept hers briefly.

She did not answer. Perhaps, she told herself sourly, like Laurence, he thought only of cup and hearth and bed as well—and knew immediately that would not be true of him.

Bed,
she thought next, and frowned. What would happen when they reached Elladoune? Would Gawain expect her to behave as his wife, once there? She shivered inwardly, deliciously, at the thought of deep kisses at Avenel—and then admonished herself to stop. Too much was unknown and uncertain in this situation.

"We will ride northwest for a while," Gawain told Laurence. "Then the forest will open into a glen with a lake called Loch nan Eala. In the Gaelic, that means—"

"Loch o' the Swans," Laurence translated. "I have Gaelic from childhood, man, as you do—my nurse was a Highlander like yours, if you recall."

Juliana listened, fascinated. Gawain's nurse had been Highland, and he knew some Gaelic? He had never mentioned it to her. She wondered why that had been allowed for an Avenel son.

"The abbey of Inchfillan, I am told, is at one end of the loch, and Elladoune Castle lies at the other. Lady Juliana?" He looked at her again. "Is it so?"

She nodded.

"If we go astray, mayhap the lass will speak to us long enough to set us on the right path," Laurence said. He turned to smile at her, his eyes sparkling blue. "I hoped she would speak to me at least, since I am a Scotsman born and bred."

Juliana lifted her chin haughtily to show him what she thought of Scotsmen who rode with English.

Once inside the forest on the muffled path, she recognized the track and urged her horse ahead. Gawain and Laurence caught up, each beside her. She peered into the green-shadowed trees, and at the high canopy overhead.

The greenwood held far more than an abundance of flora and fauna, she knew. Men, women, and children lived in the forest and in caves in the glen, forced out of their homes by the English. Most of them were friends and rebels, some officially outlawed by the English. All of them were honest men and women, renegades by necessity, dispossessed by King Edward's army.

Riding beside Gawain now, she fervently hoped that the forest rebels would let them pass without incident. Any party of king's men would be noted, she knew, and one with her in it would definitely be followed. If the foresters tried to rescue her, a deadly skirmish might be the result.

Gawain placed a hand on the hilt of his sword as if he sensed the watchers. The horses filed along the forest track, while birds called repeatedly in the trees.

Some of those calls were human-made. Juliana's heart pounded as the horses slowed over a narrow stretch of the path where the trees arched overhead. She glimpsed movement, limber and quick, high up in the trees, and she saw a steely flash through the leafy cover. An owl sounded somewhere.

They were here for certain, with weapons to hand. Red Angus's owl call often preceded an attack. She had to prevent a confrontation. Desperately she looked around.

She thought of a quick way to signal that she was safe. When she heard further rustling, and more bird calls, she reached out to grasp Gawain's arm. He looked at her, startled. She leaned toward him, smiling.

"Lady?" Gawain slowed his horse with hers. "What is it?"

He looked at her, clearly puzzled, riding so close that his thigh grazed hers.

She stretched toward him and kissed him on the mouth. He responded fast and sure, his lips moving on hers, though she knew he was surprised. When she drew back, he cocked a brow.

"My sisters," he drawled, "are nowhere near, I assure you."

Behind them, Laurence laughed softly, for he had been told about the twins' antics at Avenel.