The Knight and the Seer (18 page)

“Good morrow, my laird. My lady.” Mistress MacLean paused on her way to the great hall and struggled not to stare.

The laird’s tunic was wrinkled, his plaid tossed carelessly over one arm. A growth of stubble darkened his cheeks and chin. His hair was mussed.

At least the lady was properly covered from head to toe by a hooded cloak. But a glance at her face showed high color riding over her cheeks.

The entire abbey had been in an uproar over the fact that the laird and lady had been absent from their chambers for the entire night. But where could they have gone to evade the staff?

“I see you were taking the air.”

“Nay. We were here, Mistress. In the old abbey library.”

“The old…” The housekeeper crossed herself. “‘Tis a fearsome place even in daylight, but after dark…” Her words trailed off as she caught herself about to lecture the laird.

She turned to Gwenellen. “The servant Olnore was looking for you, my lady. I’ll send her along to your chambers.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Gwenellen started up the stairs, followed by Andrew.

The housekeeper’s voice stopped them. “Will I have Cook prepare a meal, my laird?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Aye. The lady and I will break our fast in the withdrawing room.”

“Very good, my laird.”

Andrew caught up with Gwenellen and took her hand in his. When they paused outside her chambers he leaned close to whisper, “Perhaps I could come in. Just for a moment.”

She covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Not even one moment, for I know where that would lead.”

“I didn’t hear you complain earlier.”

“Nor would I again. But you heard Mistress MacLean. Olnore will be right along.”

“We could bar the door.”

“We could.” She framed his face with her hands and kissed him full on the mouth. When he started to draw her closer she stepped back, evading his arms. “I don’t know about you, Andrew, but I’m going to wash and dress in clean clothes before I go below stairs to face the servants. I hope you’ll do the same.”

“Imp…”

She stepped away and closed the door in his face.

As she started across the room she heard the door open and his voice, low and teasing. “One moment alone and I could change your mind.”

“I’ve no doubt of that, my lord.” She was laughing as she heard the little servant call out a greeting behind him before entering the chambers.

Andrew wisely took his leave.

“Here you are, my lady.” Olnore, seeing the cloak, smiled. “So. You and the laird were out riding. I should have known. Here, my lady. Let me help you with that.”

As she removed the hooded cloak, the little servant caught sight of Gwenellen’s torn gown. “Oh, my lady. Did you fall in the brambles?”

“Nay, Olnore.” Gwenellen knew her face was flaming, but telling anything less than the truth was impossible for her.

She tossed aside her gown and turned away to wash in the basin, grateful when the servant began to chatter away about her most recent walk in the garden with Paine.

“He held my hand, my lady. And later he took me to the stable to see the new foal.”

“Oh, Olnore.” Gwenellen clapped her hands in delight. “A new foal. What color is it?”

“Color?” The servant’s cheeks reddened. “It…was dark in the stables, my lady. I took no notice of the animal’s color.”

“Was it standing?”

“I…know not.”

Gwenellen could see the betraying flush, and felt an instant kinship with this lass.

She lowered her voice. “So. You stayed the night in the stable?”

“Aye, my lady.” Olnore stared at a spot on the floor.

“Was it grand?”

The girl’s head came up. She saw the light of understanding in Gwenellen’s eyes and knew that the rumors about the laird and lady had been true. “It was a fine, grand night.”

“As was mine.”

For long moments the two young women shared a knowing silence. Then they hurried through the rest of their morning routine.

When a knock sounded on the door, the servant hurried over to admit Andrew, who had eyes only for Gwenellen.

With her hair gleaming from a good brushing, dressed in a fine new gown of palest pink satin, she looked every bit a high-born lady.

As they stepped from her chambers he offered his arm. “Are you hungry, my love?”

“I suppose I could eat something. Are you hungry, Andrew?”

“I am.” He gave her a long, considering look. “Though it isn’t food I’m hungry for.”

She chuckled. “You’re impossible, my lord.”

“And you’re so beautiful, you take my breath away, Imp.” He paused at the bottom of the stairs and placed a hand over hers. “My day spent with the villagers will seem endless, until I can lie with you tonight.”

As they made their way to break their fast he felt a lightness around his heart that had never been there before. It was as though the morning sun had burned away all the mist. A mist that had long clouded his vision. Now it had lifted, leaving him dazzled.

This woman was his sunlight. His moonlight. His starlight.

He wanted to bask forever in the delicious warmth of her.

Chapter Sixteen

“M
y compliments to Cook, Mistress.” Andrew pushed away from the table. “The night air is warm, my lady. Will you walk with me?”

“I’d like that.” Gwenellen was eager to join him.

As they took their leave of the great hall, the servants were smiling and bowing.

Everyone seemed to be basking in the glow of the laird’s warmth. The staff at Ross Abbey whispered about the change in their master. Whatever tension had lingered after his feud with his father seemed to have slipped away. The village lads who trained in the meadow discovered a new patience in their teacher. And each night, Gwenellen seemed to peel away another layer of Andrew’s armor, revealing not only a tender lover, but a man concerned with every aspect of the difficult life of a Highlander.

“Do you miss the excitement of Edinburgh?” Gwenellen paused in the grassy path as they enjoyed an evening stroll in the gardens.

“Nay. My heart has always been here in the Highlands.” He walked with her to a stone bench and settled himself beside her. “Here we have long been isolated from life in Edinburgh, and the pomp that surrounds the Throne. That can work to our advantage at times, making it difficult for invaders to reach our fortresses. But it can also work against us.”

“In what way?”

“The queen requires an army of trusted soldiers. Most are recruited from among the Highlands, because our loyalty is unquestioned. But when our enemies invade, it is often impossible for our warriors to arrive in time to be of any use.”

Gwenellen studied his stern profile. Now that she’d come to know this man, she understood that it wasn’t anger, but concern for his people, that drove him. “You believe that Fergus Logan will attack before your warriors can reach us?”

He looked away. His silence spoke more than words.

She touched a hand to his arm. “Do you think the villagers are ready to fight like warriors?”

He turned and gave her a tired smile. “If a firm resolve could repel invaders, the people of the village would have no fear, for I have never met more determined fighters. But how are farmers and crofters to defend themselves against some of the most brutal swordsmen in all of Scotland?”

“If you fear for them, wouldn’t you be better off to flee?”

“Where would we go? This is the land of our fathers.”

“But at least you would be alive, until you could train enough warriors to take back your land.”

“There would be nothing left to take back. Do you think Fergus Logan will simply help himself to our crops and flocks, and leave? When he returns to his fortress, he’ll leave behind fallow fields, poisoned lochs, and barren countryside. And woe to any innocents he encounters along the way. The man is a brute and a bully. He has a need to fulfill a bloodlust. For too long now he has savaged his neighbors.” Andrew’s voice lowered with passion. “He took something precious from me. I want him to answer for that.”

She shivered at the depth of his fury. “Even if it means your death?”

He nodded. “It matters not as long as I die with Logan’s blood on my sword.”

He got to his feet and paced restlessly, while she watched. At long last he paused beside her, and closed a hand over hers.

His voice lowered to an intimate whisper. “This talk of doom and gloom resolves nothing. Come, my love, and lie with me. And we’ll speak of happy things.”

Happy things. If only, Gwenellen thought as they climbed the stairs, they could always be this happy. But the threat of attack hung over them like a pall. It was never far from their minds. And, she knew, it robbed Andrew of precious sleep. She’d heard him tossing and turning, and often watched in silence as he stood on the balcony of his chambers, staring into the night.

Forcing a brightness to her tone, she entered his chambers and tossed aside her cloak. “Have I told you about the time Jeremy and I were picking roseberries, and…” Her words stilled as he walked up behind her and drew her back against him.

While his mouth moved slowly along the smooth column of her throat, his hands rested just beneath the fullness of her breasts. She couldn’t control the tremors as his clever hands and mouth began to work their magic.

“Andrew, my story…”

“Will have to wait, love.” He picked her up and carried her to his bed. “For I need you. Desperately.”

They took each other in a frenzy.

Gwenellen awoke to the sound of men’s voices in Andrew’s sitting chamber. At first she thought to dismiss them. Servants, no doubt, reporting something to their master. But as she lay in the darkness she could hear the urgency in Andrew’s voice, and in the ones who answered.

Then there was only silence as a door closed and footsteps sounded in the hallways.

Moments later she saw Andrew’s darkened silhouette as he crossed the room and stepped onto the balcony.

She tossed aside the furs and padded to his side.

He draped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close, then looked once more at the darkened hills. “I’m sorry I woke you, Imp.”

“You know I can’t sleep when you’re not beside me.”

He nodded absently. “I know.” He took in a deep breath. “I must dress now, love. And so must you.”

As he started away she tugged on his arm. “What is it, Andrew? What’s wrong?”

He slipped into his tunic and hose before strapping on his scabbard. “I’ve had lads hidden in the hills, with orders to watch and listen.”

“For Logan’s men?”

He nodded. “I’m told that many men are on the move in the Highlands to the north of us.”

“Logan’s warriors?”

“Aye.”

Her heart gave a little hitch of fear. “How soon will they be here?”

He tucked his sword in the scabbard, then tossed the length of plaid over his shoulder. “Late on the morrow. They have no need to surprise us. They know that without my warriors, we have no chance to survive.”

He said it so simply, she felt a chill along her spine. “And yet you’ll stay and face them, knowing it means death?”

“We’ve talked about this, love. You know I must.” With a tired smile he turned and framed her face with his hands. “Go now and dress. I’ve already sent word to Olnore what you will need.”

“But…”

“Go.” He kissed her. A quick, distracted kiss before stepping from his room.

Gwenellen hurried to her own chambers and found Olnore already there, an assortment of garments spread across the bed.

Gwenellen studied the heavy wool gown and hooded traveling cloak. “What is all this?”

The maid seemed as bewildered as her mistress. “I was told to prepare you for a journey, my lady. I know nothing more. Come now and we’ll…”

Instead of changing her clothes, Gwenellen turned and raced down the stairs, unmindful of the fact that she was still in her nightdress. At the bottom of the stairs she found Andrew talking to the housekeeper.

When he saw her, his head came up sharply, and he signaled the housekeeper to leave.

Gwenellen remained on the lower stair, so that her eyes were level with his. “Olnore said I’m to dress for a journey. Why, Andrew?”

He paused before her. “One of the lads who’d been posted in the hills knows every dip and hollow in this land. I would trust him with my life, or my most precious possession.”

“I don’t understand.”

He placed a finger to her lips. “I sent him to the stables to tell Lloyd to saddle a horse for you.”

She was shaking her head. “I have no need of a horse.”

“The lad will accompany you to your kingdom.”

She stiffened her spine. “I’m not leaving here, Andrew. I’ll not leave you now.”

“Shhh.” He placed a finger on her lips to still her protest, and even that light touch had heat pulsing between them. “You have no choice, Imp. I am laird. And you will do as your laird commands.”

“I won’t.” Tears stung her eyes and she blinked hard, ashamed to let him see her weakness.

He saw her tears and muttered an oath. He couldn’t bear to see her cry. But this was not the time for weakness. He needed to be strong. Not only for himself and his people, but for her. “Understand something, my lady.” His tone hardened, as did his formal use of her title. “You are here at my pleasure. And you have brought me great pleasure. But now I must concentrate all my energy on the battle to come. I cannot allow any distraction.”

She struggled to keep the pain from her voice, though each word was an effort. “Are you saying I was nothing more than a…pleasant distraction?”

He heard the approach of horses and carts, as the villagers arrived to prepare for battle. Though he longed to drag her into his arms and kiss away her tears, there was no time.

No time.

He thought of the hurtful words he’d hurled in anger at his father. Words that could never be called back. The time for kind words had passed, and would never be given him again. And so this time he must choose his words carefully.

“You have been more to me than I ever dreamed, my lady. But now I must join my people to do battle with my enemy. It will bring me much comfort to know that you are in your Mystical Kingdom, where you will be safe, and carefree, and happy forever, far from this hell. That is where you belong. Not here.”