by Olivia Rae
Audrey lifted her gaze briefly to the heavens. Lord, help me to safely get through this ride. Satisfied, she gave her horse a good kick in the flanks and rode ahead with confidence.
Fresh cold mist hit her cheeks as she tried to keep pace. Gavin’s broad back held her gaze, his muscles rippling with the horse’s gallop. They were almost one and the same—two beasts striving to fulfill some unknown ambition. Each time she tried to reach his side he would push his horse harder, farther away, as if he feared someone might see, might know what tormented his soul.
Clyde laughed. “Ye willnae be catchin’ him. There be no one in the west marches that can ride like Gavin Armstrong of Warring. Best ye stay back here with me.”
Pushing the palfrey a little harder, Audrey pulled away. She needed to earn Laird Armstrong’s trust and respect. She very well couldn’t do that by acting like a weak English female. She had managed to get to his side when he pulled up his horse and came to a stop. Unable to halt her horse, Audrey rode past. “What now?” she asked, before circling back.
He lifted his chin to the hill before them. “There. On the horizon.”
Audrey followed his vision. Three mounted men stared back at them. “Who are they?”
“That be Rory Maxwell, his son Ewart, and his cousin Ualan. We are close to their lands.” Laird Armstrong maneuvered his horse in front of hers. Duncan and Clyde flanked her sides. The trio of brawn held their position.
“Are we givin’ a greetin’ or are we headin’ back?” Clyde asked, pointing his spear at the men before them.
“You and Duncan will take Mistress Hayes to the top of yonder hill. I wish to speak to them alone.”
“Nay, it be too risky. Ye need one of us with ye. Let the lad take her.” Clyde lifted his sagging shoulders and locked the spear firmly under his armpit.
Gavin shook his head but did not argue with the relic. He turned his attention to Duncan. “Do not stop until you have her at the top of the hill.”
The whole thing seemed absurd. Surely, they didn’t intend to fight? “My laird, perhaps all we need to do is talk with them.”
His eyes never left the threesome. “Not unless you want to become their permanent guest. Do you not remember what I said about the Maxwells earlier?”
A spike of fear pierced her insides. Even from this distance, the small band did ooze malice. She resisted the urge to make the sign of the cross upon her chest. She timidly nodded.
“Listen carefully and do as I say,” he said quietly, backing up his horse, dropping his hand to his sword. “Follow Duncan and head for the opposite hill and do not stop nor look back until you have reached its peak. Wait for us there.” With a side glance, he whispered, “Ready?”
Her breath was imprisoned in her throat.
“Go,” he shouted.
She and Duncan kicked their horses’ flanks, and the beasts took off. A loud curdling cry cut the air and sent spirals of horror down her back. Her heavy breath matched that of the palfrey’s as they galloped toward the hill. At the top, they stopped and swiveled back. She saw Laird Armstrong, sword raised high in his hand, charging the trio alone while Clyde stood like a stone warrior.
Audrey choked back the bile rising in her throat. “Why did he not charge with Laird Armstrong?”
“Because Clyde isnae any good in a fight. Those years for him are long past. All he can do is look fierce and pray Laird Armstrong knows what he is doin’.”
The man was mad. They would cut him to pieces. She wanted to help, but she had no weapon. She had left her dagger in her room. Something she never planned to do again. “Please go help him,” she pleaded.
“He wants me to stay here with ye. I know better than to gainsay him.” Duncan held his reins in his hands, holding firm to the spot.
Such foolishness! She would have to head back to Warring Tower and alert the other moss-troopers. But which direction should she go? Helplessness rolled through her body. Intent on her earlier musings, she had not observed her surroundings. She knew not which way to go.
Laird Armstrong charged on with Bairn howling next to him. Rory Maxwell and the rest did not budge. Nor did they unsheathe their weapons. Less than a furlong he stopped, then trotted his horse back and forth in front of the trio. Shouts were exchanged, but Audrey could not distinguish their words. Finally, Laird Armstrong sheathed his sword. All four began to laugh as Bairn circled them, sniffing the ground. The jocularity continued as their attention floated up the hill to her.
The hair rose on the back of her neck. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest and echoed in her ears. Was all the bravado a show? Did he mean to bargain with them? Barter her for a few coins?
Duncan’s wide eyes mirrored her conclusion. “Methinks this may not end well, mistress. Perhaps ye should head back to the keep. I’ll go and help Laird Armstrong.” Without giving her a second glance, he headed down the hill.
She glanced to her right and then to her left, which way should she go? Anywhere but here. Swiftly, she flicked the reins and took off over the hill.
The pounding of horse’s hooves on the dry ground captured her hearing and stole her senses. She rode on and on, not giving thought to where she was or where she was going. Her breath came short, hard, and fast. Red, green, and yellow spots danced before her eyes. Trapped in her haze of horror, she did not notice the beast next to her or the hand that grabbed her horse’s reins until it was too late.
She cried out, flaying her arms in every direction until her fist connected with a solid surface.
“Woof.” The intrusive hand let go of the reins.
Tumbling forward, she grabbed the palfrey’s neck, stalling the animal’s steps. Audrey looked to her left to find Laird Armstrong holding his nose, a trickle of blood seeping through his fingers.
“You scared me! You should have made your presence known.” She surveyed her surroundings to see Duncan and Clyde fast approaching, but none of the other men. Her breathing eased. A stab of guilt replaced her fear. “Are you all right?”
He shook his head. “You smacked me in the nib.”
Clyde and Duncan snickered but remained wordless.
Audrey straightened in the saddle and maneuvered her horse close to him. “Let me see.”
“Nay,” he cried when she reached out. Carefully, he removed his hands from his nose and swiped the blood away. “I’m fine.” He sniffed. “Why did you run? I told you to stay at the top of the hill.”
Her flesh heated. “I saw you laughing with…and Duncan and I thought you might—”
“You should know better than to listen to a green lad.” He sighed and dabbed at his nose again. “In truth, if they wanted you, they would have taken you. They could have cut us all down.”
“Then why did you charge in the first place?” Her horse danced away from his.
“To soothe a dangerous situation. And it worked. They believe only a crazy fool would charge with an old man to watch my back.”
“Hey now,” Clyde said in protest.
Gavin’s horse danced around the two moss-troopers. “Return to the keep. We will head back shortly.”
Duncan nodded, but Clyde would not budge. “Ye cannae be out here alone. Maxwell could return. Besides, we must think of Mistress Audrey…what might people think?”
Dabbing his nose again, Gavin gave her a cold appraisal. “Up ahead, there is a fine place near the river to rest the animals. You two can wait there. Mistress Hayes and I will be along shortly.” He then trotted off, dismissing all of them.
Audrey followed quietly along, knowing he believed her to be a silly female. Queen Elizabeth would be disappointed in her actions. What man would tell a fragile female his secrets? She should raise the white flag right now and return to England.
He dismounted under a large oak tree. Audrey did likewise, though a good twenty paces away from him.
“Why are you mad?” he asked.
“I am not mad. I just…” She tucked a curl behind her ear and headed back to the tree wh
ere she sat down, clutching her knees.
“You are embarrassed because you listened to Duncan and fled?” He came to sit next to her. “Dinnae be. Had they killed me, they would have come after you. ’Twas a wise decision given what might have happened, though Duncan should have stayed with you. Later I will have to have a long talk with the lad.”
“They still would have caught us.” Defeat crept into her already flimsy resolve.
He put his back against the tree and stretched out his legs. His shoulder brushed against hers, sending a numbing tingle down her arm to her toes. “You have my father’s dagger.”
She grimaced. “I left it in my room.”
He dabbed at his swollen nose. “That was very foolish. Keep it with you at all times from now on.”
His sound advice made her heart slump. “Aye, I will.”
“Perchance Jaxon would have come for you,” he said playfully.
Audrey’s skin began to heat. “I hardly think he is that smitten with me.”
“It would have nothing to do with you. If they would have killed me for no good reason, then they would have the whole Armstrong family to deal with.” His brow quirked up. “Unless you told me a tale earlier and there is something besides dagger throwing between you and Jaxon.”
Her neck itched and was probably molten red. What a twit she was. Her knowledge of these people was so lacking. ’Twas almost as if Queen Elizabeth wanted her to fail. “There is nothing between us.” Her protest came out a little louder than she’d wanted.
He chuckled, letting his gaze roam freely about her body. She should bristle at his forwardness, but instead, a sliver of delight tore through her, enjoying his appraisal. He cleared his throat and raised his gaze to scan the glen. “Where is that dug?” He let out a sharp whistle. In the distance, a series of barks and howls could be heard. Laird Armstrong stood and whistled again. “Bairn, Bairn,” he called.
The hound bounded out of the brush and headed toward them. Covered in burrs, he jumped up and put his great paws on his master’s chest.
“Ack, look at you, silly beast. Always got your nose in the wrong place.” Laird Armstrong sat down again, and a panting Bairn managed to wedge himself between them.
Audrey laughed and began to pull burrs from the hound’s back. “I must ask. Why would a mighty laird name his dog Bairn? He really is not a babe.”
A deep frown chased away Laird Armstrong’s joviality. Cavernous lines creased his forehead. “I am not so mighty. Quite the opposite, and as for the beast’s name, it was given by another.”
The heat in Audrey’s body, which had begun to recede, kicked upward once again. Edlyn must have named the animal. ’Twas the only answer for his change of mood. “I am sorry,” she mumbled.
“Sorry? For what? For the dug’s name? It is what it is.” He stood. “We must be getting back. I have other things I must do this day. I cannae waste all day spending time with a fair lass.”
Audrey curled her tongue to hold in a gasp. Her heart tumbled in her chest. Wasting time indeed. But deep down she knew her heart skipped not because of his terse words, but because he called her fair.
Little was said by any as they journeyed to Warring Tower, nor did Gavin bid her well when he proceeded to his chamber. Audrey stood in the courtyard with Bairn by her side. To get a pet, the hound bumped his nose against her hand. Gently, she began stroking his head.
“Mistress Audrey.” Thomas raced through the gate. “I saw you riding with Da.” The boy knelt down and gave Bairn a big hug. “Did you have fun?”
Audrey hesitated. She had no desire to lie to the boy. “It was pleasant.” Other than the fear of being kidnapped.
“I wish I could go riding with Da. Can you talk to him? I would love to come along next time he goes out.”
A chilly wave swept through Audrey. She had no desire to ask Laird Armstrong anything. “Your father rides very hard when he travels the marches. Keeping up might be a challenge.”
Thomas stood and pushed out his chin. “I know how to ride. I used to ride with Da all the time until Marcas was born.” The boy jammed a toe into the dirt, burying his face in Bairn’s coat. “Then he stopped.”
Compassion tumbled over in her chest. She doubted the boy rode far with Gavin. Thomas would say and do anything to get his father’s attention. Audrey knelt next to the boy. “Your father is just very busy. He loves you as much as he loves Marcas.”
“Da doesnae like Marcas either. Da just changed when Marcas was born.”
What man doesn’t love his children? Was he that heartless? Or did all of this have to do with Edlyn’s death? The wind kicked up and swirled around her neck. She pulled up her shawl. “Your father has a keep to run.”
Bairn licked the boy’s face, breaking the sadness. Thomas gave the hound another hug. “But he let you ride with him.”
Alas, they were back where they had started. How could she change the lad’s thinking? A niggle of an idea began to bloom and blossom. “If you can tell me how Bairn got his name, then I shall speak to your father about riding.” She expected the boy to frown and shake his head at the impossible task.
Instead, Thomas brightened and hopped up. “That is easy. I named him when Da brought him here as a pup. I named him Bairn.” The hound barked, and Thomas rubbed the dog’s broad head. “I get to go riding. Can I go tomorrow? I have to tell Gran!” The boy jumped into the air and clapped his hands before racing off to the tower with Bairn barking behind him.
Audrey’s gaze drifted up to the boar’s chamber window. By tomorrow morn she had to change Gavin’s mind or Thomas’s heart would be broken, and that was not going to happen.
Chapter Eleven
With the slash of the quill, Gavin crossed off another entry in his log. The past year’s fighting had left Warring’s finances dismal once again. The cottars who lived and worked on Armstrong lands faced a rough winter. A peaceful summer along with the purse from winning the Truce Day feats would help greatly. Unfortunately, neither was a certainty. The thought of reiving other families and the English through the winter once again left a cold empty pit inside him. Taking from those who were struggling just as badly was more than dishonorable, it was nothing short of murder.
He had seen enough death and starvation. And he was done with it. A timid knock on the door drew his attention. What now? Another squabble in the fields? Could his tenants not get along? Hunger had a way of tearing everyone apart.
“Enter,” he bellowed, jamming the quill back into the inkwell. The door creaked open, and there stood Mistress Audrey. His interest piqued and chased away his glumness. “Mistress?”
She crept into his chamber like a timid mouse in search of a morsel of cheese. He frowned—this bode no good.
“I promise not to take up too much of your time.” She wrung her hands, a habit that meant she was after something. “Just a moment.”
Gavin rubbed the bridge of his nose, bracing himself for her request. “Speak, mistress. What do you want?”
Color flashed up her neck, and she fisted her hands. She puckered her lips and shifted her feet. Finally, the jumbling of her body slowed. She threw her shoulders back and looked him straight in the eye. “I promised Thomas that you would take him riding tomorrow.” A gust of heavy breath followed her pronouncement.
A wave of anger ebbed and flowed through every muscle in his body. By all that was unholy, why would she do such? He pushed back his chair and ground his feet into the floor, fighting for composure. “You have no right to give away my time to my son or anyone else.”
She opened her fist and smoothed her hands over her skirt. “I-I know, but Thomas and I made a bargain, and I lost.”
He arched a brow, becoming interested in her words. “What type of bargain?”
The redness in her neck rushed up to her cheeks. He wondered if they were hot to the touch. Her gaze glazed over, and he feared her tears would break forth. Then her eyes cleared. “I told him if he knew how Bairn got his name, you would r
ide with him.”
Gavin rose, toppling his chair. With three steps, they stood less than a hand apart. Her warm sweet breath caressed his cheeks, but that did not break his resolve. “Seems you were caught in your own trap. But that does not mean I have to try and set you free. I willnae ride with the lad on the morrow. ’Tis too dangerous out there, even if I called every moss-trooper to ride with us.”
Mistress Audrey crossed her arms over her chest, and she had the audacity to glare at him. He fought the desire to kiss that look away. “You are the boy’s father. He wants to spend time with you.” To his amazement, she advanced on him, causing him to back up. “Why are you so uncaring? If you do not show some affection, the boy will grow up hating you. Is that what you want?”
A rayless cloud settled in his soul; she didn’t know the half of it. “You promised me you would stay out of the rearing of my son.” From within, he fought against the darkness. Against the rage that caused destructive damage. “You broke that vow. Truce Day or not, I think you should leave and return to England.”
Unbridled terror filled her eyes, which reached out to grip his heart. What demon placed such horror in her? All color drained from her face. Her arms dropped to her sides. Gavin feared she would swoon again. He placed his hand on her hip. She flinched. Then slowly she thawed and touched his chest with soft fingers. His heart hammered. The softness of her curves crushed all of his anger, and he wondered if he would be the one who would swoon. He wanted to pull her closer and get lost in her deep midnight eyes. Run his hands through her silky black curls. Tease her lush red lips.
Gavin closed his eyes, fighting against the need to clasp her hand. He took another step back, shielding her from his desire. His breath slowed as her poise returned. Whatever frightened her had been forgotten. Her breathing was even, and she seemed unfazed.