In Love With A Warrior (Gunn Guardsman (Book 4)) (25 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Morning fog blanketed the fields adjacent to the Hume keep. James stopped and looked at the old castle’s walls and sighed. He hadn’t expected to be on Hume land again, at least for some time. He knew he caused a lax pace on the journey and that his friend was eager to return. James hadn’t been on a horse in some time as it was. Never would he admit how difficult the trek was for him. Nor would he ask Sean to take the frequent rests he needed. He was grateful Sean hadn’t mentioned or jested with him about the delay.

The horse he rode wasn’t familiar with him, but by the time he reached Sean’s keep, the horse settled into a smoother gait. He missed Oran, because his horse had been trained well and he didn’t need such a heavy hand.

It seemed forever since they’d left on their errand for the king to Wales. Much had happened since then. James shook the thought away for he didn’t want to think of
her
.

“All’s well, Angus?”

The stable lad, Angus, came running toward them. “Aye, all’s well. Laird, I’ll see to your horses. Benson awaits ye in the hall.”

James dismounted his horse and gave the reins over to the overzealous lad. Angus was proud of his position even though many would not be. He boasted that even if he had to shovel manure, he was proud to serve his laird. The lad was dedicated, he’d give him that.

James followed Sean to the hall, and wondered why Benson, the commander-in-arms waited inside. Usually he awaited Sean by the gate, and foretold his news while Sean made his way through the courtyard.

“What’s going on? Trouble?” James looked at the high steps of Sean’s keep and grimaced. He used the wall and the stick his father gave him to take the stairs and made quick work of his ascent.

“I hope not.”

James heard nary a sound when he entered the massive hall. They stopped upon seeing Benson. He stood near the table, rocking a bundle of coverings in his arms.

James bellowed in laughter at the sight of the burly guardsman holding the wee bairn and the babe let out a fierce wail.

“Now see what ye done?” Benson marched to him and thrust the babe in his arms.

James had no choice but to accept the screeching bundle. He awkwardly held the babe and scowled at Benson for putting him in such a position. It had been a while since he held such a small bairn.

“I just got ‘em to sleep, for he won’t rest for milady. I was giving her a break from his fussing.” Benson kept his scowl affixed on his face and muttered curses.

The bairn continued to wail and Benson pulled Sean near the door where it was quieter, to give his report.

James held the bairn up and smiled for he looked akin to his father with his brown eyes and dark wisps of hair.

“Ah, lad, you’re angry at the world? Aye, that makes two of us. We’re in good company, you and me.”

The babe stared at him and seemed to settle. James needed to get off his feet, so he sat at the table and set the babe against his chest. He felt the babe relax and surmised he was settling back to sleep.

Benson finished his report and grinned at him. “You have the touch, James. I shall see you later, Laird.” He hastened from the hall.

Sean snatched two cups and a flagon of ale on his way to the table. “It appears my lad likes to be around men. He’s already showing signs of being a great warrior. Frances has had a hard time settling him down.”

James grinned. “So I heard. He has a good cry. What did ye name him? Grey never told me.”

“James.” Sean filled a cup with ale and set it in front of him. “I expect you to be his champion and look after him his whole life.”

He didn’t know why he got emotional, but his friend’s words greatly affected him. “I am honored. Of course I will. Here, take the wee James.”

Sean shook his head. “Nay, he’s content. Let him be for now. Hold on to him until he wakes.”

“Did ye plant a good sapling for him?” James kept his hand under the bairn’s bottom so he wouldn’t slide down his chest. The babe curled into a ball and seemed to be comfortable.

“Aye, of course. I want my lad to be strong.”

James liked their tradition of planning a tree for the bairns when they were born. If a tree was weak and the leaves sparse and falling, so would the bairn be weak. If the tree were resilient and bountiful with leaves, so the child would thrive. Although he wasn’t much a believer in superstitions, he didn’t like to test the fates.

At that moment, Frances entered the hall and approached. Her wide smile faltered the nearer she got to him.

“Oh, James …” She held his face with her hands, and he closed his eyes with the gentleness of her caress. “You’re unwell. I can see it in your eyes. I shall call Muriel.”

He’d gazed at her and saw that she looked healthy and well since giving birth. “Nay, I’m well. Truly, milady. I’ve no need of a healer.”

“You don’t look well. We shall feed you then and I will have cook make a feast.”

James swore whenever someone wanted to help, they resorted to feeding him. But that wasn’t what he needed or wanted. He needed
her
. “There’s no need, milady. I’m not hungry.”

“Nonsense.” She kept her voice low and touched her son’s head with a gentle stroke. “I’ve never seen him so content.” She took a seat next to him.

“Where was the cattle taken from?” James asked, and tried to hide the grin that came upon him. For he knew there was no missing cattle, and he wanted to catch Sean in the web of his deceit, even though he and Grey practically admitted their trickery.

“We’ve missing cattle?” Frances asked.

Sean gave his wife a telling look, but shook his head. “Nay, but it was the only thing I could think of to get James to come.”

James chuckled. “I gathered it. But you’ve my thanks. I’m gladdened to be here.”

“Why did you …” Frances caught Sean’s gaze, and he noticed the look that passed between them.

“He wanted me to visit. Is that not right?” James would’ve laughed, but he didn’t want to wake the babe.

“Aye, that and if you’d stayed in the garrison any longer, you would’ve ended up dead.”

James suspected Sean might be right for he had no fortitude for life. Not since
she
left.

“Momma, Momma, Alvin won’t let me go to the smith’s with him.” Ermintrude, Sean and Frances’ daughter, ran into the hall and stopped short when she saw him. Her long sable-colored hair flowed behind her and appeared tangled.

Trudy, as Sean liked to call her, had woken up the babe and he wailed louder than any bairn alive. James hastily handed him over to his mother.

“I shall go and feed him,” Frances said, and to her daughter, “Ermintrude, you must give Alvin time to be alone. Sean, will you explain it to her?” She set off with the bairn, his wails diminishing the farther she got away.

“Come here, lass,” Sean said.

“I want to sit with Uncle James.” She crawled upon his lap and her knees dug into his thighs as she looked at his face. “Momma said someone broke ye.”

The minx spoke before Sean could stop her. She barely weighed anything and was small for her years. The lass smelled of grass, and he wondered if she’d been rolling in it. Evidenced by the muss of her hair, he was sure of it. James grinned and repositioned her to sit on his good leg.

“I was broken, lass, but not anymore.” He touched her nose and gave her a peck on her soft cheek. “Are ye hounding your brother?” James felt sorry for the lad, because Alvin was at an age when lassies were more of a nuisance. Alvin had been an orphaned villager who Sean and Frances took in and raised as their own. It took a long time for the lad to accept them, but it appeared the lad flourished.

“Nay, but he wouldn’t let me come. Tell him to let me.” Her lip pouted and she gave a look of woe to her father.

“Leave him be, lass, and come and sit with your father.” Sean reached for her and she scrambled off James’ lap.

“This is a good time to make my escape.” James hastened from the hall before Sean called out to him.

Outside, the sky brightened with the late afternoon sun. It wasn’t as warm as the past days and a gentle breeze blew. He found himself walking through the gate and when he reached the lane that led to the village, he kept walking. It took him longer to reach the village than it usually would. By the time he got there, the sun began its descent. He headed to the cottage, even though he’d told himself he wouldn’t.

James didn’t bother knocking for he was of a mood and wanted answers. Questions plagued him the entire walk. Before he could change his mind, he opened the door.

Muriel turned and when she saw him, she stood silent.

James closed the door and ambled to her.

“I didn’t deem I’d ever see you again.”

“I didn’t either, but Sean bid me to come, and I thought to come and see you. How are you? You look well.”

She turned back to her tables and took an ax to the head of some kind of rodent, and the proceeded to squeeze blood from it. He winced at the thud the ax made on the wooden table.

“That’s gruesome, Muriel.”

“I need the blood for a remedy I’m making.”

He grinned. “As long as the person doesn’t have to drink it …”

“Nay,” she said, and laughed. “Sit and let me wash my hands.” She scrubbed them for several minutes and approached the chair he sat upon.

“You look akin to death, James, and lost weight and muscle. You’ve lost that spark in your eyes. What happened to you?”

“What you said that night. Do you remember …? That last night we were together, when I said farewell. When you hexed me?”

She pulled a chair close to his and nodded. “I remember.”

“Can you undo it?” James crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. He wasn’t about to move until she did.

Her bonny brows furrowed. “Nay, I cannot.”

James sighed. His heart filled with despair and lamentation. “Do ye detest me that much, Muriel? I’ve been to hell and back for all of your curse. You know I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know, James. ‘Tis just … I never hexed you to begin with. I made up those words and never verily cursed you. I was angry because I knew the truth. That I could never keep a man akin to you happy or for very long.”

James wanted to laugh. Everything he’d gone through wasn’t due to her hexing him, but was caused by his own misfortune. The unjustness of it tightened his throat and chest, and he wanted to shout his disgruntlement to God himself.

“I met a lass just as you bespoke and since that day, I’ve been tormented. It happened just like you said it would. I want to forget her, but I cannot. I’m a besotted clootie.” James became uncomfortable talking about her, but of anyone, Muriel would understand.

“Why do ye want to forget her?”

“I cannot have her. She would rather fight in her father’s army than be wife to me. I would never force any woman to accept me so I let her go.”

Muriel moved her chair closer. She touched his face and turned him to look at her. “She must be the most dimwitted woman alive for any woman would want to wed you.”

James sighed. “There is no way to win her heart and I deem mine has been torn asunder. I could only reason you verily hexed me well and good.”

She smiled lightly and continued to touch him, letting her fingers pet the tresses of his hair. “I’m sorry that you thought I truly cursed ye. But nay, I promise you I didn’t. There must be a way to win her.”

“I don’t deem there is.”

“Is there not something you could do or say that would prove your love? Many ladies adore such grand romantic gestures.”

James firmed his lips. Something came immediately to mind, but he had to give it more thought.

“I noticed you limping. What’s wrong with your leg?”

James hastily explained how he’d gotten hurt. “… and it’s still healing. It may take a while. At least my other injuries healed.”

“Are ye certain it was set properly?” Muriel clasped his hand, holding it tightly, and gazed into his eyes.

“Aye, but it still pains me. Och I’m more concerned about my duties, for I can’t protect anyone in this condition.”

“You must not have stayed off it long enough.” She left her chair and went to her tables.

James folded his arms over his chest, content to sit back and watch her like he used to, akin to old times. “If you’re busy, I shall go.”

“Nay, don’t move. I have a remedy for you, but you must promise me two things ere I give it to you.” Muriel took two large pieces of roots and began grinding them with a pastel.

He raised his brows in shock for she rarely used herbs and such. “I will concede only after you tell me what promises you speak of.”

She laughed. “You verily are the most suspicious man. I only ask that you keep off your leg … completely, James, for at least two months. And you shall rub this salve on it twice a day.”

He approached her table and leaned in to see what she was doing. “What is it?”

She continued her task and finished grinding the hefty root into a fine powder. “’Tis comfrey. You must use it sparingly for it can turn a person yellow. But it is renowned for healing broken bones. It will strengthen the bone and heal the flesh around it as well.”