The Truest Heart (35 page)

Clifton stared down at the bundle tucked into his elbow, at the blue eyes and cap of shining dark hair. “Bedamned!” he said in amazement. “She looks like me!”

His sister looked shocked at the utterance. Clifton promptly colored to the roots of his hair, while everyone else laughed, including Brother Baldric. Madeleine yawned, raised a tiny fist and proceeded to drift asleep.

Two hours later they were still gathered round the table in the hall. Gillian listened intently while Clifton relayed all that had happened since the night he and Gillian had departed Westerbrook so long ago. Ellis’s man Alwin had taken him to the shores of Ireland in order to escape King John’s wrath. But alas, Alwin had fallen victim to illness and expired but a few months thereafter. Clifton had sought sanctuary in a monastery.

He cast a dubious glance at Brother Baldric. “I do believe,” he finished, “that I am not given to a religious disposition.”

They all laughed, including Brother Baldric.

He looked at Gillian then. “I regret that we could not return sooner and ease your worries, but we had no choice but to wait. When word reached Ireland of the king’s death, we decided it would be safe to return to England.”

Brother Baldric glanced at Gareth. ” ‘Tis glad I am to see that you kept your promise and kept Lady Gillian safely away from the king’s hand. And somehow I am not surprised that you chose to marry her in order to do it.”

Gareth took his wife’s hand, his gaze tender as he carried it to his lips. “Ah, but that was not the only reason I married her.”

Clifton blushed, while Brother Baldric cleared his throat. “So I see, milord.” His gaze encompassed the cradle near the fire where Madeleine slept soundly. Nonetheless, his faded eyes gleamed his approval.

Clifton was thin from his ordeal, but Brother Baldric appeared more frail than ever. Gareth couldn’t help but admire him, for it was his loyalty to Ellis of Westerbrook, and Gillian and Clifton, that gave him the strength to go on, a strength that burned from within… a strength that few men possessed. Gillian remarked upon it as well.

“Brother Baldric, I still cannot believe you are here. I was convinced we’d lost you, especially when Gareth learned from Father Aidan that you had left your deathbed.”

“I thought I would die, too. But I did not,” he said simply, “and I can think of only one reason why—”

“Do not tell me,” Gillian interrupted with a smile. “‘Twas God’s will!”

“Indeed.” Brother Baldric slipped his hands into his sleeves, his eyes twinkling.

A short time later, they all said their good nights; both Brother Baldric and Clifton were understandably exhausted from their journey.

Gareth and Gillian were soon snug in their bed as well. He slipped a finger beneath her chin.

“Are you happy, sweet?”

Her heart full of joy, she twined about his neck and gave him her answer with her lips. But after a moment, she drew back with a soft laugh.

Gareth cocked a brow aslant. “What do you find so amusing, wife?”

“I was just thinking of that long-ago day we found you on the beach, half-dead and half-drowned.”

“Oh, aye. I can see why you would be much amused by that,” he observed wryly.

“Brother Baldric wasn’t entirely approving when I insisted on taking you back to the cottage. He wasn’t certain you were worthy of saving—he thought you might be a scoundrel. But I knew he was wrong. Even then I believed in you.”

His eyes incredibly soft, he kissed the corner of her lips. “And what did you believe, sweet?”

“I believed that you were a man of honor and truth. And I was right.” Her tone deepened to huskiness. “For you, Gareth of Sommerfield, are a man of true heart… the truest heart.”