by Olivia Rae
Duncan brought forth two horses. “The others are waiting for us outside the gate.”
He spoke of the other moss-troopers who would join them. They were nothing more than cottars who fulfilled a duty to their laird. No doubt they were hoping for a quick ride so they could go back to their farm work.
Gavin nodded and swiftly mounted his beast. Audrey and Jaxon giggled like a pair of foolish children. With a swift kick, Gavin’s horse trotted to the gate. May the both of them choke on their smiles and laughter.
Once out of the keep, Gavin rode vigorously, scanning the hills, glen, and woods for wayward livestock or dead carcasses. The bright rays of sunlight warmed his cheeks and sent a small trickle of sweat down his back. Bairn howled by his side, bounding to the left and then to the right to keep pace. The other moss-troopers followed in silence as if knowing their laird was in no mood for idle chatter.
Nothing in the marches seemed amiss. No English lurked in the thickets, and no strange Scots rode across the meadows. His mind so preoccupied with Mistress Audrey, Gavin did not realize how close they were to Maxwell land and the same small inn where he had been with Jaxon and Fraser.
Gavin pulled his horse to a stop. “Let’s stop for a drink,” he said, hoping the other moss-troopers would readily agree.
“Eh? On Maxwell land. Are ye mad?” Clyde said once he caught up to the pack. “Methinks I’ll wait here. With the lad.”
The excitement in Duncan’s eyes began to dull. The young servant had never been on Maxwell land let alone in a neighboring tavern in his life.
The others held back also. At this time of the year, they probably wanted to keep their heads clear so they could complete their work once they returned home.
“Why dinnae the rest of ye return to Warring. Clyde and Duncan can wait for me. I’ll not be long.”
Before Clyde could give protest, the others had ridden off, a wake of dust following behind them.
“What ye want in there?” Clyde grumbled. “Ye’ll get yer head knocked in.”
Duncan maneuvered his horse closer to Gavin’s. “I dinnae mind going with ye.”
Gavin shook his head. The less anyone knew about his plan the better. “Stay here. I’ll be back shortly.” Bairn barked. “Aye, ye can come with me.”
The dog answered by licking his chops.
“We both could use a cool drink.”
Gavin rode up to the inn and then tied his mount outside. He entered the tavern with Bairn in tow. The innkeeper’s daughter gave him a lusty grin. “Would ye like a brew, Laird Armstrong?”
“Aye, and a bit of water for me dug.” Gavin made his way to an empty table while Bairn drank heartily from a bowl of water.
“That fleabag should be outside,” Rory Maxwell chastised from the same table he had been sitting at a few days’ past.
“Bairn is cleaner than you, I wager.” Gavin stretched out his legs and gave a coin to the lass who brought a small beer.
“I was speakin’ about ye, Armstrong, not yer dug.” Maxwell showed his dark stained teeth. “Though I have to wonder, why dinnae ye drink on yer own lands?”
Gavin took a long pull from his mug. “I like the company here better.”
His remark drew a crusty laugh from Maxwell’s throat. “Ye better not be talkin’ about me cousin Lorna.” His motioned to the innkeeper’s daughter.
“Nay, though she be tempting. I am here to converse with you.”
Maxwell stared at his brew. “We have nothin’ to say, ye and me.”
Gavin hefted a small bag of coins onto Maxwell’s table. “A word, nothing more.”
Maxwell rubbed his grubby cheek and gave a nod.
Swiftly, Gavin pulled out a chair across from Maxwell.
“Ye come to toss the dice? I’d be happy to take yer land away again,” he guffawed. “Ye can always marry another rich English lass to buy it back.”
Gavin’s blood heated. He’d love to kick Maxwell’s arse all the way to the Highlands. Instead, Gavin gripped the wooden handle of his mug and hoped it wouldn’t snap. He took a long drink to wash away his anger, then carefully placed the mug on the table. “I want to speak to Hetta.”
Maxwell sat back, suspicion filled his gaze. “She dinnae want to talk to ye.”
“Please.” Gavin leaned over the table. “I willnae hurt her. I only want to speak to her.” He picked up the bag of coins. “One talk is all I’m asking for. An easy task for a handsome sum. Consider it payment for her keep.”
Another grainy guffaw filled the air. “The spit of coins ye have willnae tempt me. Be gone. And dinnae come here again.” Maxwell gave him his shoulder.
Gavin grabbed Maxwell’s arm. “Wait. I will help you in your cause.”
“What cause do ye speak of?” Maxwell pulled his arm away.
“The one a man of the True Faith would be involved in. Those who dinnae wish to see the Reformer John Knox and his kind come into power.”
Maxwell shifted. His eyes became thin slits. “Ye be willin’ to betray yer own ma’s beliefs? Some say she is more loyal to the English queen than to our own.”
Gavin dropped his gaze to the table, his chest tightened. “I care little about religion and politics; it has torn this land apart. I care even less for Queen Elizabeth.”
“Careful, the English would say those be words of treason,” Maxwell whispered. “Yer ma would be so disappointed in ye.”
A large knot developed in Gavin’s throat. He tried to clear the obstacle away, but the tightness would not budge. Finally, he just nodded.
Maxwell’s stale breath swirled around Gavin’s face. “I never trust a man of mixed blood. Ye never know where they stand on things.” Maxwell puckered his aged lips and let his gaze roam across Gavin’s face as if searching for the answer. “Aye then. I’ll hold ye to yer word, and if ye betray me, I’ll cut out yer lyin’ tongue and feed it to yer dug.”
The lump let go. “I never go back on my word, and if I do, ye can place a dagger in my chest.”
Maxwell sat back and finished his ale before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ye can count on that, Warrin’. I’ll have to talk to the rest of me friends. They may not want ye involved in our affairs.”
“When can I speak to Hetta?” Gavin snapped, dropping one hand to his lap, squeezing it into a fist.
Maxwell shrugged, tossing the coin bag in his palm to feel its weight. “When I think the time is right.” He rose and tucked the bag into his jack. “Lorna, give Laird Armstrong another brew. He’ll be needin’ it.”
Without another word Maxwell left, leaving Gavin to stare at the tavern’s wooden door. For all he knew, winter might arrive before he met Maxwell again. Gavin gulped down his drink before Lorna refilled his mug. He needed an answer from the murdering Maxwell soon or his sons and Warring Tower would truly be lost.
Chapter Ten
Thomas placed the brick back into the wall. “Are you sure this is a safe place?” he said to Audrey. “What if Gran or Da find the ring here?”
His quick thinking warmed Audrey’s heart. She wondered what the boy would say if he knew it was his grandmother who had suggested the hiding place. “Nay, they will not. Your father never comes into the chapel, and your gran never looks behind this altar. Besides, God will be watching; He will keep your mother’s ring safe.”
The boy lifted his eyes toward the wooden cross on the altar, then nodded. “I think I shall come to prayers tomorrow morn.”
His grandmother would be so pleased, though she would know the real reason for his sudden devotion to the Lord. At least the servants and villagers would be excellent examples of Christian piety. Audrey rose to her feet. “I think that would be wonderful.”
“If I come every day, then I can remind God to take care of the ring.” Thomas ran his fingers on the altar stone. “Do you think I can ask God to watch my things by the river?”
She brushed the dust from the front of her gown, trying desperately not to chuckle. “I think that is a splendid i
dea.”
Thomas gave a firm nod.
“Come. The sun has begun to set, and your grandmother will be wondering where you are.”
The boy took Audrey’s hand but kept looking back at the hiding place while they made their way to the door. “I know God will keep it safe. I just know He will.”
Audrey squeezed Thomas’s hand when they entered the hall. Already some of the servants were preparing for the evening meal. Lady Francis sat in her usual spot by the hearth, stroking her cat. All waited for the boar to make his presence known.
When Thomas saw Mistress Jonet by one of the tables, he raced for the scullery. Audrey at first considered giving chase, but she knew he would be back the moment his father entered the hall.
She strolled up to Lady Francis and took a seat next to her. “I have to say your hiding place was brilliant. Thomas already is considering coming to morning chapel to keep an eye on his prize.”
“Had I known such a simple thing would bring him to prayers, then I would have shown him the spot years ago.” Lady Francis scratched the purring cat under his chin.
“’Tis a grand secret for him to hide something from you and Laird Armstrong.” Audrey yawned. The day had been long, and the fire eased her weary bones.
“Just what Warring Tower needs, more secrets,” Lady Francis said, watching the fire dance in the hearth.
The cryptic words pricked Audrey’s interest. There might be something there that would interest the queen. She meant to query further when a dusty Laird Armstrong strode into the hall followed by Bairn. The dog’s jowls juggled back and forth; a long strand of drool hung from his mouth. Even caked in dirt, Laird Armstrong cut a fine figure. The annoying thought rattled Audrey. What care she if he was handsome or not?
“Hard ride today, Gavin?” Lady Francis asked, her fingers tenderly playing with the cat’s ears.
He plopped into a chair opposite his mother while Bairn came to sit next to Audrey. “Aye, but I have good news. From what I can see, our land is free of any unwanted predators, four- and two-legged.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “’Twould be nice to have a quiet summer.” He stared off as if he knew what he asked for was nothing more than a fairy’s tale.
“Well then, if all is calm, maybe you can join Mistress Audrey and me in prayers tomorrow?”
Gavin crossed one leg over his thigh and let his head fall back against the chair. “You know I dinnae believe anymore.”
“Do not say such, your soul is in danger.” Lady Francis pushed the cat from her lap, who quickly hopped up onto Gavin’s. Bairn gave out a low growl.
Laird Armstrong’s long fingers began to gently glide through the cat’s fur. Audrey’s breath caught when her mind wondered what those fingertips would feel like next to her cheek.
“I dinnae care about something that doesnae exists.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.
His blond lashes accentuated the dark circles under his eyes. Audrey wanted to soothe his worry away with one simple touch. A war must wage in his soul.
“You know such words upset me. What happened in the past is not God’s fault. Quit blaming Him for your own sins.” Lady Francis slammed her hands on the armrests and bolted from her seat. She glared at her son. Her lips twitched with unspoken words. Knowing they would fall on deaf ears, she stormed toward the stone stairs. “Have Blair send up my meal. I shall be in my chamber.”
Feeling awkward and a little embarrassed by her own wayward thinking, Audrey sat still though her heart raced like a galloping border pony. Gavin casually watched until his mother vanished from sight. Whatever went on inside his head he kept well hidden under a hooded expression. There was much to learn here. “Well, Mistress Audrey, it looks as if it will be just you and me this eve. Though I am certain Thomas’s rumbling stomach will bring him to the hall.”
“He is already in the scullery, probably filling his belly as we speak.” Audrey patted Bairn on the head, trying to calm her senses. She threw in a yawn for good measure, though any fatigue had vanished the moment he walked into the hall.
“The fresh Scottish air making you tired? It has that effect on many.” His gaze almost sensual, his fingers twisted and turned through the fur.
A warm glow seemed to fill her belly. “I think it is from chasing around with Thom…”
The heat in his eyes receded as a deep frown marred his face. His hand paused on the cat’s back. “Once again you were with Thomas. Little more than a day has passed and you are back traipsing around with my son. But that is not all you do, is it? You play the innocent maid with Jaxon and others as well.”
Why did he choose to be cross with her when all she wanted to do was soothe the weariness from his brow? Desperately she tried to put up a wall against him. “Why are you speaking to me in such a manner? I cause no harm. You are a—”
“You are everywhere except where you are supposed to be.” He jabbed a finger in her direction. “By my mother’s side.”
Once again, his Scottish brogue faded away as his anger rose. Audrey was fast learning she was the key to his agitation. “May I remind you that I was just sitting next to your mother?” She sucked in her breath; she had overstepped the boundary again. He had a way of bringing out the worst in her.
He jerked back, and his blue eyes became as wide as a vast lake. Then as if a dam had stopped the waters, his gaze constricted. “Dinnae be flippant with me, mistress,” he said in a low growl. “You know my meaning, but if you keep on this way—”
“Laird Armstrong, please forgive me.” Audrey clasped her hands and brought them to her chest. “Thomas follows me everywhere, and with your mother’s blessings. As for Jaxon, we only throw daggers. Nothing more.”
A brooding look settled on the boar’s face.
“To hone my talent for Truce Day,” she added in an as penitent voice as she could muster.
He stood. The cat cried out in protest, scurrying for safety under a table. “And that is why you are still here. Remember the feats were designed for men, not for lasses. That the other families allowed you to participate is proof they expect you to fail. Whatever the outcome, you will leave soon.” He wheeled toward the stairs.
She rose and stopped his departure with a touch to his chest. Her heart skipped and flipped over on itself. “Please,” she whispered. “Must we always fight?”
His solid chest rose and fell with each breath he took, warming her fingers. He stepped even closer, his sultry, sweet breath curling down her neck. Her mouth went dry.
A brief flash of yearning entered his sultry gaze, pulling her closer to the fire, but then the longing burned out, buried under a cold veil. He stepped back. “Mistress, it is better to be enemies for that is the only way I can keep you safe until you leave.” He bowed slightly before walking out of the hall.
Audrey reached back and grabbed the arm of her chair to stop her shaking. The man had a way of undoing her, and his words left her mind in a muddle. What did he mean, keep her safe? No one threatened her. Did he mean the marches weren’t safe? Or did he know the real reason why she was here? Or the desires that plagued her soul?
More and more Audrey wanted to peel away his frozen mask and see what scars held his heart in ice. A bold plan began to form, ceasing her fears. If she could reach him a little, then she would learn much.
* * *
Dressed and ready, Audrey listened to the early morn footfalls of Laird Armstrong. She hoped and prayed he would ride the marches this morn. The sun had barely risen when she heard him slam his chamber door and race down the stairs with the pants of Bairn right behind him. She pulled her shawl around her shoulders, following at a fair distance.
A flutter of gratitude flared inside her when she saw him head for the stables. She picked up her pace and found him readying his horse. “My Laird, I-I wish to ride with you.”
His hand stalled on the animal’s back; his eyebrows kicked upward. “You? Wish to ride the marches, with me? Are you daft? It is no place for a lass.”
&n
bsp; An annoying burr dug deep in her confidence. She lifted her chin and threw back her shoulders. “I know how to ride, and I have noticed that as of late you are riding without your cousins. I fear I am partly to blame.”
He snorted. “With Jaxon for sure. As for Frasier, he hasnae been himself for a while.”
Audrey cleared her throat. “Then I shall like to go with you. I need the fresh air, and I am sure the other moss-troopers will not care.”
A devious smirk twisted the corners of his mouth. “Riding the marches is not a trot on a country trail. They are dangerous. There could be reivers about. They have been known to take lovely wenches for ransom. And if that be your fate, then you are lost to us. For I willnae waste good coin on getting you back.”
Bairn let out a low whine and sat on Audrey’s feet. Lovely wenches! Was he trying to be complimentary or cruel?
“You are trying to scare me.” She folded her arms across her chest and tipped her head. “It will not work.”
“You’re a brave one, are you? I wonder what you would do if Rory Maxwell kidnapped you.”
She blinked. “Who?”
Gavin Armstrong frowned and shook his head. “A thorn in my…someone to watch out for.” He motioned his head to the grey palfrey. “Since all looked peaceful yesterday, only Duncan and Clyde are riding with me this morn. I am sure they will not mind if you come along. Take Bessy. She is as docile as a milking coo.”
Elation and pride shot through Audrey. She had managed to persuade him with little resistance.
Laird Armstrong called for a stable boy to ready her horse. “With luck, the English will be roaming my lands. Then I can give you back to them.” He winked before guiding his horse out to the courtyard. She quickly took her seat on the palfrey’s back.
Duncan tipped his head with pleasure when he realized she would be joining them. Clyde spat on the dirt and mumbled his disapproval. All three men wore silver helmets and their jack of plates. Duncan and Clyde held a lang spear, while Gavin was armed with his sword and dagger. None of the men offered her any such weapons, which meant they truly did not expect trouble or they truly did not care about her welfare. Without a word, they took off into the early morning light with Laird Armstrong in the lead, Duncan at her side, and Clyde at her back.