Flame (32 page)

Gavin looked to his side and admired her
strength. Though only moments ago she had fought him for bringing
her here, the determined and noble look that she now wore told him
that she was ready for whatever challenge awaited them. Her eyes
met his.

“You’ve never seen them in the past like
this, have you?” she asked.

Gavin looked out across the fields. For the
first time, the laird found farm folk working the land. They were
approaching the village, and a dog was racing toward them, barking
and announcing their presence. But with the exception of a few
faces lifting with interest, no one ran away and hid as they had
done in times past.

“Nay.” He shook his head, amazed. “But
you
have.”

“Aye, when I came here alone.”

Gavin’s eyes drifted to a group of children
chasing after the dog. These were the first young ones he’d seen
this close since arriving at Ironcross and its lands. “‘Tis amazing
to me that they haven’t run off.”

Joanna looked at him steadily. “Obviously,
they’ve accepted you as the laird...and as one they do not find
threatening.”

He shook his head. “This is all for you,
Joanna. ‘Tis their way of welcoming you back from the dead. Back to
the flock.”

“I never was one of them,” she whispered
angrily, her violet blue eyes flashing.

“In rank and position, that’s true.”

She flushed crimson. “I didn’t mean it that
way.”

“You might have severed your connections with
them when you joined the dead in the caverns beneath Ironcross, but
from all that I can see, you are certainly accepted here.”

Joanna looked away, and Gavin followed the
direction of her gaze. Muddy children were running barefoot through
the puddles.

“They do not look so vicious from this
distance.”

She scowled, but remained silent.

“They must train their children early on to
hide the evil they carry in their hearts. Ah, the filthy
murderers!”

Joanna whirled on him. “I never said they
all
were capable of such viciousness. There are many good
folk here!”

He raised a brow and looked at her
critically. “I would never have guessed that from hearing you
talk.”

Her eyes narrowed to dark blue slits. “I’m
here, am I not? You might give up this endless taunting.”

“I might, Joanna. But honestly, that is a
lifelong pleasure that I am looking forward to indulging in.” His
face creased with a wry smile. “And in more ways than one.”

“Villain!” she whispered, trying to retain a
frown. “I hardly think it wise to talk so boldly this long before
we are wed. A woman’s mind might change.”

He quickly reached out and grabbed hold of
one of her hands, squeezing it tight before bringing it to his
lips. Her embarrassment at his open display of affection was
evident in the rosy tint that colored her fair skin.

“I believe you
do
intend to marry me,
lass.”

She turned a deeper shade of red as he placed
another lingering kiss on her palm.

“Aye,” she croaked as she jerked her hand out
of his grasp. “I have said that I will.”

Gavin took a deep and satisfied breath.
Unable to tear his eyes away from her face, he rode beside her as
they entered the village, and Gavin relished the thought of her
being his, for today and for tomorrow and forever. The group of
children were peeking at them wide-eyed from the corner of one of
the cottages, and the laird winked, sending them scurrying out of
sight.

“You have quite a way with wee ones,” Joanna
remarked wryly.

He turned and smiled. “‘Tis a gift.”

They would get past this--of that he was
certain of it. And then they would have many days ahead of them,
days when it would be just the two of them. Or perhaps three, he
thought suddenly. As Joanna’s eyes scanned the ruins of the abbey,
Gavin's gaze slowly fell to her waist. Could it be that she already
carried his child, he wondered? They’d been reckless in their
passion, but Gavin knew he would not have done anything
differently. Even now, he felt the stirring in his loins.

Clearing his head quickly, he vowed silently
that they would marry as soon as Edmund returned from James
Gordon.

***

One look from the old woman and Joanna felt a
wind whirl through her, whipping her insides into a frothy sea of
confused emotion.

Joanna did not look away from Mater’s gray
eyes. When she had seen the abbess standing quietly by her fire,
looking as if she were waiting for them, Joanna had been certain
that in the older woman’s eyes she would find guilt, anger, death.
But instead, all she found was sorrow, as ancient and gnarled as
the some of the pines standing dwarfed and alone on the western
hillsides. Something in Mater’s look went straight through Joanna’s
shield of righteous anger, through her armor of justice. The sorrow
in Mater’s eyes went straight to her heart.

Unconsciously, Joanna handed her rein to
Gavin and let him tie the mare next to his horse. And as he reached
up and took her by the waist, lowering her to the ground, not even
once she was able to tear her eyes away from the old woman’s
gaze.

Her body moved of its own accord, making its
way around Gavin. But halfway to the fire, Joanna came to an abrupt
stop. A voice in her head had begun screaming, and her heart ached
with an anguish that threatened to tear her in two.

“You have come.” Mater’s voice shook slightly
as she extended one thin hand in invitation. “At last, you’ve
decided to come back to us.”

A tremor tore through Joanna’s body, and her
knees were beginning to buckle beneath her weight. She felt it
then, his large hand, pressing reassuringly into the small of her
back. But then, gently, he was pushing her toward the elder woman.
Confused, she looked up into his dark eyes and saw the strength,
the confidence, the love.

“‘Tis the two of us,” he whispered softly.
“You and I.”

His words filled her with strength, and
Joanna turned her eyes back to Mater. This time, though, it was the
older woman who took the steps and closed the distance between
them.

Gavin's voice was gruff, but Joanna could
hear the wryness in his tone. “Did my visits in the past cause the
farm folk to lose so much time in the fields that they can no
longer afford to hide?”

“Do not laud yourself too highly for your
cleverness, laird.” Mater scolded, never lifting her eyes from
Joanna’s face. “This is simply our way of commending you for
bringing her back to us, to her people.”

“She would not be here if she hadn’t given
her consent.”

“I know,” Mater said softly as she reached
out and took Joanna’s hands in her own. “She is a woman and has a
will much stronger than any living man.”

As much as she wanted to, Joanna couldn’t
bring herself to jerk her hands free of the abbess’s grasp.
Instead, she watched in silence as Mater turned her scarred palms
upward and stared at the blotches of red skin as if she had known
that they would be there.

“They have healed well,” the old woman said
encouragingly. “Keep them open to the air, and the rest of the
scarring will disappear as well.”

Joanna stared at her in stunned amazement,
but Mater ignored her surprised look and turned, drawing her in the
direction of the fire.

“How did you know that her hands were
burned?”

Gavin’s question to Mater didn’t cause the
old woman even a moment’s hesitation.

“Before this moment, Gavin Kerr was the only
living being who knew of my burned hands.” Joanna couldn’t keep a
quiver of anger out of her voice, she stood waiting as the abbess
sat by the fire.

“Sit down, Joanna,” the old woman offered,
waving to the block of stone beside her.

“I need an answer.”

“Aye, and I will answer. Sit down.”

Joanna glanced at Gavin, who nodded slightly
and then sat across from them.

As she seated herself, she watched Mater’s
gray eyes lift to her face. “The laird was not the
only
one
to know of your burns.”

Joanna waited, but the old woman didn’t offer
more. Growing agitated, she glanced in Gavin’s direction, but he
not only seemed unaffected by Mater’s words, he changed the subject
entirely.

“Contrary to what I have been assuming,” he
said. “I learned this morning that your sister was not staying with
you during these past two days.”

“My sister?” Mater’s brow raised in
challenge.

“Aye. Margaret, your younger sister,” Gavin
nodded matter-of-factly. “And your brother, Allan, asked my leave
last night to go in search of her, himself.”

There was a moment of hesitation in Mater’s
expression, and her eyes never left off their close scrutiny of
Gavin’s hardened face. “I’m surprised that you know of my family
connections.”

“And I am not the only one who knows,” he
answered casually.

The sudden flicker in her glare did not go
unnoticed by Joanna. This was clearly a sensitive area for Mater.
Just the mention of Margaret’s name had illuminated a crack in the
armor. A breach in the wall.

“When was the last time you saw your
sister?”

“Are you questioning me, laird?”

“Do you care that she is lost?”

Mater’s back straightened in anger. “‘Tis
your responsibility as the laird to keep her safe.”

“And I intend to...once I find her. Unless
you know of a reason why she would not care to be found.”

“There is no such reason,” she answered
quickly. “She has no place to go. Nowhere to hide. She has no means
of taking care of herself.”

“The last time she was seen, she was very
upset.” Joanna’s statement drew both Gavin’s and Mater’s eyes to
her face. He’d said it was the two of them. Having had time to
gather her nerves, Joanna was now prepared to be part of this
talk--as Gavin had wanted. “Can you think of any reason for her to
be upset?”

Mater’s gaze sat heavily on her face, but
Joanna did not flinch. She would need to display all of her
strength in her dealings with this woman.

“Nay, I don’t know of a reason for her
distress.” Mater’s voice sounded suddenly thinner, older than it
had ever been.

Gavin’s tone, in comparison, was hard and his
question blunt. “Do you think she and the priest might have had
something between them?”

His question brought a flush of indignation
into the old woman’s face. “Never!”

“There are those in the castle who’ve seen
her pay him frequent visits.”

Joanna herself bristled at Gavin's
insinuation. She looked into Mater’s face and found it stone
hard.

“‘Tis fairly certain that she left with the
priest, Mater.” Gavin continued. “And though he is a man of the
cloth, that old dwarf seems to have had his way with more than one
woman in that keep.”

There was a note of cruelty in Gavin's tone,
and before now, Joanna would not have believed him capable of it.
But when she glanced again in Mater’s direction, she saw that the
abbess’s composure was on the verge of crumbling.

“I have to admit that her age will work to
her advantage.”

“Stop it, Gavin,” Joanna ordered.

“This time,” he rumbled on, “he’ll not have
to worry about getting her with child.”

“Gavin!”

“At least there will be no immediate cause
for deserting her!”

“I said stop!” Joanna reached down and took
hold of the old woman’s hand. She hadn’t missed the tears welling
up in the abbess’s gray eyes. “I see no reason for such callous
brutality.”

“Nay, lass?” he asked, his black eyes boring
into her own. “Is that so?”

Suddenly, it dawned on her what he had done.
In the space of a few moments, he had torn down the stone facade
that Mater hid behind. And in so doing he had awakened a compassion
for the old woman that Joanna thought had died long ago.

Angry with him and angry with herself, Joanna
tore her eyes away from his face and looked down to the gnarled
little hand that was entwined with her own.

“When was the last time you saw your sister?”
Gavin asked, this time more gently.

Joanna felt Mater’s hands tighten around hers
as the old woman looked up at Gavin. “Last week, laird, the same
day that she was seen last by others.”

“And you do not know why she was upset?”

“She had been crying,” Mater said wearily.
“Something Margaret rarely does. But then, with her tongue tied as
‘tis, there was only so much that she could tell me.”

Though Joanna was focused on the words that
were being spoken, a growing realization was stealing over her, and
it shocked her. She could feel the coldness that had crept into the
abbess’s hand. She could feel every callus, every pulse of the old
woman’s blood. But also, for the first time in her life, she felt
as if
she
were providing the strength. Like Mater, the
source of power for the women around her, she, Joanna MacInnes, was
acting as the giver, the provider of some force of will that she
knew Mater desperately needed right now.

“We have been searching for the priest since
he disappeared,” Gavin said quietly. “The few peasants who admit to
seeing Father William all tell of a thin woman keeping the cleric’s
company. That woman can only have been Margaret.”

“What do you intend to do?” Mater asked
coldly, an edge creeping back into her voice. “She
is
your
responsibility.”

“We are doing what we can. I have sent my men
in all directions looking, but last night Allan told me of a
cottage to the north where a sister of the priest once lived.”

“Did Allan go there by himself--alone?”

Joanna and Gavin both looked into the older
woman’s pale complexion.

“A few of my men went along, though they may
have separated to search the hills if they thought it necessary.
Why?”

“Because if he finds Margaret with that
no-good priest, there is no telling what he will do.” Mater paused
a moment as she gazed in the direction of the sky to the north. “He
and I both have spent most of our lives being very protective of
Margaret. Perhaps Allan even more so than I.”