Circle of Honor (15 page)

Visions of Gwenyth's hair shining in the moonlight, her lovely skin, the way her eyes sparkled, held far more appeal.

“Good morrow, son.”

Eva chuckled when he nearly fell off the bench.

He righted himself. “Mother, I didn't see you there.”

“Nay, I don't suppose ye did.” She examined him before continuing. “When Angus learns ye were walking in the moonlight with yer wife, ye can expect a summons. And I'm warning, he'll not take no for an answer.”

“And this walk I supposedly took, 'tis the talk of the keep already this morn?”

Eva grinned. “When her guard returned to his post he found ye outside her chamber, but he wouldn't say if ye were going in or coming out.”

Blast the man. “That wee bit of tact is all that stands between him and dismissal.”

“Aye, well. Not much happens in this place without someone knowing of it. And, as I said, yer da will hear of it and demand to meet her now she's well enough to leave her room.”

“She's not staying—why must he interfere?”

“Because he's yer father.”

As if that explained it, Eva took her leave, and Adam made a halfhearted attempt to eat. The summons from his father came before he'd finished his meal. No sense putting it off. His father would badger him until Adam brought Gwenyth to him. He went to Gwenyth's chamber to retrieve her.

She faced him, confused and fearful. “But why?”

“Just humor him, Gwenyth. We both know you'll not be here long enough to make a difference or to give him the grandchildren he's been demanding.”

“Don't your sisters have children?”

“Aye, five girls between them. Da says 'tis my duty to give him the grandson.”

For a moment, Gwenyth's features were wistful, and the sight warmed Adam. A grandson for Angus, a child for Adam. He stepped toward her, and she retreated swiftly.

“Why do you run from me, little one? I wish you no harm.”

“I fear we will forget our promise to separate, Adam. Please, no matter how our feelings may change, it is best if we don't act on them.”

Thinking she still feared a man's touch, encouraged by her admission that her feelings toward him were warming, he made no further effort to touch her. Perhaps she would come to care more for him than for her cousin.

Adam smiled. “Well then. We'd best go tell Angus he'll have to wait a bit longer.”

THE KNOCK AT HIS DOOR aroused Angus from dozing, and Adam ushered in the woman at his bidding. Angus watched them walk toward him, apprehension written clearly on the girl's face. Adam must have sensed her discomfort, for he leaned down to whisper in her ear. Did the boy care for her, or did he just show empathy to an injured being like himself? An interesting question that begged an answer.

“You may leave us, Adam.”

Anger crossed his son's face. “But—”

“Leave us.”

Looking none too pleased, Adam gave the girl's hand a squeeze and said something that made her smile before he stalked out of the room, shutting the door a bit harder than necessary.

Angus pushed his son's displeasure aside and indicated the stool beside the bed. “Come, lass. I don't bite.”

She gave him a weak smile as she sat on the edge of the stool, head bowed. She'd recovered from the attack, but it angered him to think of such a wee lass being mistreated. “Ah, lassie, ye've had the worst of it, haven't ye? Ye didn't deserve such treatment, and it grieves me that ye've suffered at the hands of Clan Chattan.”

“You don't believe in beating women?” she asked, her voice a cross between sarcasm and hopefulness.

He grinned, testing her reaction. “Well now, there may be times a good thrashing is needed.”

She raised her head and her features hardened.

“This is not a laughing matter for ye, nor should it be.” He paused. “There are better ways to woo a lass.”

“Even if the woman is a servant?”

Ah, she had spirit. Good. “ 'Tis no way to treat any woman.” He studied her. “Do ye wish me or mine ill?”

She fiddled with the ends of her belt, twisting them back and forth. “Except for the man who assaulted me, I wish you and yours no harm. But my kinsmen—”

“Yer kin served those who oppose Robert the Bruce. And they've paid dearly.”

“With their lives.”

“Aye, and the suffering of their kin.” As he approached death, Angus saw more clearly that the sins of the father were too often visited on the child. He himself had married an heiress and done all he could to unite two mighty clans. Now Adam would have to deal with the festering dissatisfaction Angus's own actions had brought about. Angus was certain Adam could accomplish this, if only he believed in himself.

“So, lass, where do yer loyalties lie?”

“In England, with my family. And until I join them, with you and your son. I am most grateful for Adam's protection. I shall not remain long, only until—”

“Aye, I know all about yer plans. Do ye truly wish to leave yer home?”

Her back straightened. “I have no home. All has been taken from us.”

“If ye have life, ye have all ye need to begin again.”

She met his gaze, and the stab of pity in her eyes revealed her knowledge of the gravity of his illness.

“I know I'm dying, lass. 'Tis to yer credit yer face didna light with glee when ye realized it.”

She looked away.

Gently he repeated his earlier question. “Do ye truly wish to leave Scotland?”

“In all honesty, my laird, I don't know what I want except to be reunited with my kinsmen.” Her eyes glistened as she whispered, “And to feel safe again.”

Her pain moved him, and suddenly he felt very old and tired. And useless. He offered his hand. “Come here, lass.”

She rose and, standing close, took his proffered hand.

He fought his drowsiness. “I consider myself a good judge of character, and I see strength in ye. Under other circumstances, I would consider ye a good match for Adam.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “If I weren't a servant, or if I were still a maid?”

He studied her as his weariness tugged at him. “Your innocence was stolen from you, child. I do not hold it against you, nor would Adam or any man worthy of the name.” He rubbed his eyes in an effort to rub away the fatigue. “I'm too tired to debate any more today. Come back tomorrow, and we'll talk of this some more.”

She seemed about to argue, then thought better of it.

As she turned to leave, he asked, “Do ye by any chance have the gift for storytelling, lass?”

With a puzzled frown, she answered, “I know the old legends, aye.”

“Then ye will recite to me after ye've broken yer fast on the morrow.”

She regarded him, then rewarded him with a small smile. “As you wish, my laird.” The door closed quietly behind her.

A fine day's work,
he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

THE DAY BEGAN as all her mornings began of late—waiting for Daron and praying he was well and as anxious as she to be gone. Hoping to help the time pass quickly, she made her way to Angus, only to be turned away from his chamber this morning by an obviously troubled Eva.

“He's worn himself out.”

“I am most sorry, Lady Eva. I hope he is soon recovered.”

“ 'Tis in God's hands,” she replied and walked away, leaving Gwenyth to wonder if Eva blamed her for the old man's weariness. She had enjoyed the last several mornings with him.

Disappointed at not having Angus's company, Gwenyth retired to her room, resigned to sewing and needlework as a means to pass the time. She took the midday meal there, alone with her thoughts.

A rap on the door signaled the servant's return to remove the tray, and Gwenyth was startled to see Adam standing in the doorway after the girl had gone.

He held his bonnet in front of him, looking for all the world like a petitioner for alms or some other favor. “My lady?”

“Aye?”

“I thought, well, my father thought you might like to ride today.”

Gwenyth glanced out the winnock at the bright sunshine, a welcome contrast to the past several days of gloom. A ride and the chance for fresh air would be wonderful.

“I believe my ribs are sufficiently healed. Aye, I should like that very much, especially if you will accompany me.”

Adam actually blushed at her words, and Gwenyth suddenly felt more free and at ease than she had in some time.

He tipped his head. “We'll ride outside the castle walls, if you wish.”

“That sounds wonderful. I'll need to ask your mother for suitable clothes. And Adam, I prefer to ride astride, if that won't offend you.”

“Well, then. So you shall. Meet me at the stables when the sun is straight overhead. I could use some exercise myself.”

He turned and left, and Gwenyth called for a maid to help her change into the skirt Eva sent at her request.

Gwenyth met Adam as agreed, and soon a lovely dun mare was saddled and bridled for her. Gwenyth loved to ride—loved the tangy smell of horseflesh and the gentle sway as they walked. This ride must surely prove more pleasant than her journey to Moy, when she'd been wounded in body and soul. Within moments of crossing the drawbridge, she felt the weight of her situation depart, and her heart lightened.

They rode through the forest and came to an open meadow. Adam seemed disinclined to converse, and she was happy to ride in silence, observing a golden eagle making lazy circles on the air currents, rabbits scurrying for cover, and the fine, sunny day that had emerged from this morning's fog.

The desire to urge her horse to a canter, to fly over the ground and lose her melancholy in the fleet hoofbeats of the animal, came over her. But remembering her companion, she thought better of her impulse. Unhappy with the necessity to placate her keeper, she drew alongside of Adam.

“I should like to canter—will you join me?”

“Nay, lass, go on ahead.”

She couldn't believe what she heard. “You trust me, then.”

He looked her straight in the eye. “Until you give reason to do otherwise, aye. Go on, I can see you're impatient with this pace. Stay within sight, lass, and I see no harm.”

Flashing him her brightest smile, she set her heels to the mare's side and broke free of her worries as the horse flew along the ground. She glanced back and saw Adam gently lope after her. Heeding his words, she circled her horse back around, staying within his view, grateful for this bit of freedom.

When her animal tired, she slowed it to a walk and drew up next to the other horse. They rode up a hill, and reaching the top, she stopped at an overlook of the loch and the castle in its midst.

“This view is even more lovely than the one from the path.”

“Aye, it is.”

“What is that building there on the smaller island?”

“ 'Tis a prison.”

Gwenyth suppressed a gasp, wondering if that's where he would put her if he learned her identity. Quickly she changed the subject, wishing to leave this place for the relative safety of the keep. “I don't mean to keep you from your duties.”

“I can take the time.” He pointed ahead. “We'll walk about the loch—cool the horses.”

They walked the horses slowly down the hill and around the loch toward the castle entrance. The sun glinted off the water's surface and a cow lowed in the distance, but the lovely setting did nothing to calm her nerves.

Adam cleared his throat. “My father wanted me to thank you for saving my life, Gwenyth. 'Twas a brave thing you did, defying Leod that way without knowing me from, well, from Adam.” He grinned, and she felt her heart leap at the beauty of his features.

She must direct their conversation toward duty, both his and hers. “I may have saved your life, but Leod can still use our marriage against you, can't he?”

“Leod will use whatever leverage he can find. But I don't think marriage to a servant will harm me much. They've called a council meeting three weeks from now to vote.”

“And you will have to defend yourself—convince them you aren't a rapist.”

“Aye.” He was quiet a moment. “Best way I could do that is to have a true marriage with the woman who accused me.”

Panic welled in her, panic born not in fear of a man touching her, but of this man's healing touch. She schooled her features and voice to portray a severity she did not feel as she exclaimed, “You don't mean that. I'll be gone by then, Adam.” She hoped it was true, for the longer she stayed the more she was drawn to him and away from her hatred. Memories of Edward faded fast in the glow of Adam's smile.

“Aye, you'll be gone.”

She halted her horse and Adam's mount stopped beside her, so close their knees brushed. “Will they believe you? About the assault, I mean?”

“Some will, some won't.”

Adam pointed to a pile of rocks shadowed by shade trees. “Come, there are things you should know.”

They dismounted and, being a good horseman, Adam exchanged their bridles for halters. Then he tethered the horses loosely so they could enjoy the lush grass. Adam led her to a place where they sat with their backs to the sun-warmed rocks. A breeze fondled the leaves, making them glimmer in the sunlight. The peaceful setting belied the nervous twitch in her stomach as she wondered what more Adam had to say.

She didn't have to wait long.

“Angus has told you that I was betrothed?”

She nodded. “Aye, he mentioned it the other morning.”

“Aye. Suisan, her name was. She was very young, but I was besotted with her. And Angus wanted the alliance to strengthen my claim to be chief. We were to marry when I returned from serving Bruce.”

“But you were wounded at Dalry.” By her kinsmen. The thought that someone she knew had wounded Adam saddened her.

“Oh, aye.” He picked at a cocklebur on his woolen stocking. “I came home more dead than alive. Praise be, Nathara was there to tend me from the start, or I'd be dead, not just maimed.”