by Olivia Rae
But not him. Her star-studded eyes captured him once again, and he was undone.
Quickly he dropped his gaze, fearing it mirrored his want and knowing what that would cost. When he gained his composure, he looked up. “Forgive me, mistress. I thought you were ill and might swoon again.”
“I am extremely fine.” She lifted her breasts. “Your words no longer affect me. I am getting used to your bluster.”
He would miss her spunk. Her eyes. Her lips. Perhaps he should reconsider sending her away.
“I shall leave on the morrow. But please spend time with Thomas. Think of the joy one morning of riding would bring to him and you.”
She knew nothing about Thomas nor what had transpired long ago at Warring Tower. Nevertheless, she unwittingly had outmaneuvered him. She was the one chance for the Armstrongs to win the Truce Day feats and maybe change the past. The absurd notion almost teased laughter from his throat. Would she be willing to make another bargain?
“All right, mistress. I will take Thomas riding on the morrow as long as you join us.”
First, her face filled with caution, then light as bright as a glowing tallow lifted her lips into a dazzling smile.
“But,” he said, raising a finger, “after that, you willnae speak to the lad or spend any time with him. You will keep to your duties as being a companion to my mother, and when the Truce Day is over, you will leave and never return to Warring Tower again. If you dinnae accept my terms, I will send you away within the hour.”
The stunning smile withered, and her cheeks drooped. What perplexed him even more was how his chest ached at her reaction.
He steeled his back, pushing away the troublesome thought. “Well?”
Her gloomy gaze glaciated his heart, and again he had the desire to hold and protect her against his own words.
Finally, that fine chin of hers rose. “I accept your terms.” Mistress Audrey walked toward the door and stopped. “I assume you will tell Thomas of his good fortune since I am not allowed to speak to him.”
Gavin gave a curt nod.
Her delicate hand smoothed out the spot on her waistline. The spot where his hand had been. She dropped into a submissive curtsy before quitting the room.
Though Mistress Audrey had acquiesced, Gavin felt like he had lost the battle.
* * *
Insufferable. There were no other words for him. That she ever believed he had a smidgen of a heart had been her folly. Audrey stormed through the hall and out into the courtyard with her dagger in hand. She stopped a good thirty paces from the butt before flipping the blade at the mark. Perfect strike.
Nay, there were many a word for him—vile, despicable, detestable, horrid, repugnant, and evil. Audrey winced at the last word. Not evil, but certainly he was obnoxious. She stomped over to the butt and snatched her dagger, returning to the line to violently release the blade again.
Zing! Again, on the mark.
For a second time, she made her way toward the target, slapping her feet against the dry ground. Though she rarely questioned God, she could not fathom what He was thinking to allow that man to have children. Straw flew out in all directions when she yanked out the knife a second time.
Liar! ’Tis that you enjoyed his touch that has your ire up.
How true. When he told her to leave, all that plagued her was Queen Elizabeth’s wrath. She had to write to the queen. But what? Surely there was something that would interest her. Audrey tapped the blade in her hand. Lady Francis seemed sympathetic to the English. Would the queen care about that? Or perhaps the strife between the Maxwells would pique her interest. None of this would matter to a queen. Audrey bit her lip. None of it mattered to her except his touch…
Gavin’s warm, powerful hand melted away her fears. She rubbed the spot where his grip had been. How close she had been to throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his vile words away. When had she become so wanton? And why was she attracted to such a detestable man?
Because deep down you know he is not. He may be damaged, but he is not unredeemable. He should be unredeemable, then everything would be fine. She could hate him with great satisfaction.
Working up a hearty anger again, she marched to the line and lifted the dagger over her shoulder.
“Hold there, Audrey. Do ye mean to destroy the butt?” Jaxon’s smooth voice did not ease her fury.
She flicked the blade, hitting the mark again. “Your cousin is an intolerable lout.” Wounded. “A dreadful man.” Suffering. “A-a boar!” Who has a heart that needs to be rescued.
Jaxon strode to the butt and extracted the dagger from the cloth. Wisely, he tucked the blade into his jack before returning to her side. “So, Gavin has crawled under yer skin once again.”
The idea of the man crawling anywhere near her sent her lips tingling. She tried to work up her old defense. “I know he misses his wife, but does he have to be such a cruel father? Truly, Thomas had nothing to do with his mother’s death.”
“Mmm…” Jaxon rubbed his chin. “Ye are right about the lad and his ma’s death. But what Edlyn and Gavin had I widnae call love.”
Could this be true, or was this just Jaxon’s male perspective? “Surely you are mistaken. Maybe it just appeared that way—men being indifferent in front of other men.”
Jaxon shook his head. “Nay. The pair hardly talked. Edlyn was the type of wumman who was afraid of a mild breeze. The only one who seemed to get her mouth to move at all was me brother, Fraser. Once in a while I would see them whisperin’ and even laughin’. But Gavin and her, nay, never. He never seemed to notice her.”
This had to be wrong. And yet…it seemed so right. The sadness in his eyes. The slump of his shoulders. The blustering mask he wore hid that vulnerability. Lady Francis had said he was a doting father until Marcas came along. Did he doubt the babe’s parentage? Impossible. Marcas looked exactly like Gavin.
“But surely there must have been some affection? They did have children.”
“I think he was more interested in the size of her purse.” Hesitation entered Jaxon’s voice. “Though there had to be somethin’ else since they were secretly wed long before he brought Edlyn home.”
A secret wedding? Questions flooded Audrey’s mind. “Did not his father approve of the match?”
“Nay, Ian was long dead before Edlyn came to Warrin’ Tower to live. Any way ye see it, the marriage didnae make any sense. Gavin was into drink, dice, and lasses.” A fiery longing filled Jaxon’s eyes. He placed his hand boldly on Audrey’s shoulder. “How about we take a little ride. Use some of that heat in ye in a different manner?”
“One ride this morn is enough.” Nor did she care to get that friendly with Jaxon. Her gaze shifted up the tower to Laird Armstrong’s chamber window.
Jaxon cocked his head upward, wrinkling his forehead. “With Gavin? He rides fast with wummin.”
She stepped back. “I do not like what you are implying.”
“Perhaps not, but if Gavin let ye ride the marches with him, then he must have had somethin’ in mind.”
Audrey opened her mouth, ready to give the man a severe tongue-lashing, when a cart rolled through the gate.
Peter had returned, and he would be wanting a missive for Queen Elizabeth. A trying day had just become worse.
Chapter Twelve
Watching from his chamber window, Gavin fisted his hands. Jaxon never missed an opportunity to woo a maid. Mistress Audrey should be warned, but then again, she could take her blade to him if he tried to seduce her. She was a she-devil come to wreak havoc on Warring Tower and to any who crossed its gate.
Gavin surveyed his desk and rubbed the back of his neck. Enough with the figures today. Time to save the undeserving female from his cousin and find his wayward son. But upon entering the courtyard, Audrey was nowhere in sight. Jaxon sat flipping her dagger over and over in his hand.
“Where is Mistress Audrey?” Gavin asked.
“She went to speak with the merchant that come in tha
t.” Jaxon pointed to Peter’s cart.
Peter showed up almost every week with English goods to trade, and sometimes, when they had nothing to trade, goods that were gotten in an unscrupulous manner. A scoundrel to be sure, but a Scottish one who helped fill many bellies when the weather cooled. What did Audrey want with him? A curl of wary settled in Gavin’s gut.
“Where did they go?” He scanned the courtyard; his query wasn’t anywhere. He came to save Mistress Audrey from one leech, and now he might have to save her from another. Though Peter was an old man and fonder of drink than women. Nay, something else drew them together.
Jaxon shrugged. “They went in the tower. She said the man had somethin’ she needed.”
That seemed impossible since Peter’s cart was still covered with a heavy leather skin, and they weren’t in the hall, or he would have seen them. So, where were they? In the kitchen? What were they up to? Gavin shielded his eyes against the bright sun. He would have to watch the merchant more closely.
“She said she would return shortly.” Jaxon hitched up his breeks. “The lass is keen on my skills. Would ye care to wait with me?” The challenge in his voice could not be missed, but Gavin did not want to fight over Mistress Audrey like two murdering cocks. Best to leave now or he might just punch his cousin in the nose.
Gavin shook his head and adjusted his riding gloves. His fingers nearly tore the leather. “I have to find my son.”
“I am thinking of taking Mistress Audrey out for a ride. Alone,” Jaxon said, unwilling to give up the contest.
Gavin squeezed Jaxon’s shoulder, pulling him to the tower stable. “Methinks it would be better for you to come with me. Unless you be wanting to lose some important parts of your body.”
Jaxon wrinkled his nose. “But I have her dagger. And who knows what that merchant intends to do.”
“Aye, but I widnae doubt that she harbors an ax under her skirts and can well take care of herself.”
* * *
Early the next morn, Thomas stood in the courtyard with his humble steed. The mare was docile, old, and perfect for a young lad to ride. “I’m ready, Da.” He beamed from ear to ear. The loving eagerness in Thomas’s eyes sent a wave of guilt rolling over Gavin’s shoulders.
“Good,” he said sternly, looking to Duncan and Clyde. They would take a short ride and return quickly, which would please Thomas and… “Where is Mistress Audrey?”
The lad’s face wilted. “I dinnae know. She willnae speak to me.”
At least the lass had heeded his order. Still he had to wonder, where was she now? Once again, her whereabouts had become a mystery. After dragging Thomas from his favorite fishing spot yesterday, he had found her sitting quietly by the hearth. Her odd behavior continued all last eve. Often Peter drew her attention while he ate and drank with the other servants. He was the one who brought her here and would be the one to take her away, but that did not explain her uneasy demeanor. Something reeked, and it wasn’t Peter’s ripe tunic.
As if his words had summoned the lass, Mistress Audrey stumbled into the courtyard. The bags under her eyes resembled bales of hay. A spiral of worry whirled up Gavin’s spine. “Mistress, how fair you this morn?”
“I did not sleep well last eve. The wind kept me awake all night.”
The night was quiet and pleasant. What wind did she speak of? Even this morn it had been calm and void of windy bluster. Something else disturbed her slumber.
A heavy sigh left her lips as she mounted the grey palfrey. “I am ready,” she said, looking straight ahead.
They rode out of the tower to Thomas’s squeals of delight and Mistress Audrey’s melancholy. Over the meadows they journeyed. All the while she remained silent. Thankfully, her gloominess had not been noticed by Thomas. He chattered away with Duncan and Clyde while riding between them.
Even in the company of the moody mistress, the early morn offered a preview of the fine day to come. Yellow-orange rays rose in the east, and the air was full of songbirds, bleating sheep, and mooing cows. The crisp air gave way to warm winds. Soon summer would settle in, and Gavin prayed it would be full of peace instead of constant fighting.
They zigzagged over the river and took the rolling hills in stride. The tension in his shoulders began to ease. Thomas started humming a merry tune, and Gavin, Clyde, and Duncan quickly joined in.
The glum mistress dropped some of her gloom. A smile teased her lips. “What song do you hum?”
“Something my father made up to woo my mother,” Gavin said lightly.
“Sing it, Da,” Thomas begged.
So merry the day, Gavin obliged the lad.
Me girl is a lass so fair that none would give a care
If she danced in bare feet and whistled a tweet
If she smiled so sweet while eating a treat
Me girl is a bonnie lass.
“That’s terrible.” Mistress Audrey laughed.
He shrugged. “She married my father anyway.” Gavin winked, and Audrey’s skin began to take on a familiar pink glow. A color he was beginning to appreciate.
Clyde noticed and wheezed a chuckle while Duncan’s cheeks resembled Audrey’s red hue.
“Da, look!” The lad pointed to a small hill near the Maxwell land. There stood a figure that swept away his joyful mood. Hetta. And she was alone, her long grey hair hanging to her round shoulders.
Gavin pulled the horse to a stop. “Hold, Thomas. We cannae go to her. For if she stands there, the rest of the Maxwells are not far off.”
“But, Da. I only want to wish her well. She was my nurse,” Thomas whined.
“Nay. Go back to Warring Tower, now. Clyde. Duncan. Take the lad back now!”
“But we havenae finished our ride.” Thomas shot Gavin a venomous look.
Gavin yanked the reins from Thomas’s hands and turned the animal around. With a swift slap on the rump, the horse took off. Thomas jostled from side to side before taking control. The lad wailed but rode on with the two moss-troopers racing behind him.
Let him be angry, soon he will understand all.
“Was that necessary?” Mistress Audrey pierced Gavin with a cold stare. “He just wanted to greet his old nurse.”
Gavin cocked a warning brow. “Mistress, best you hold your tongue on things you dinnae understand.”
“I am sure the old woman is very dangerous.” Her flippant tone set him on edge.
He looked to the hill, but Hetta was gone. Blast. He wanted to speak with her—alone. Gavin scrutinized the high and mighty mistress. Last thing he needed was her bonnie nose in his dangerous affairs. Without a word, he headed back to Warring Tower knowing the lass would follow.
Once inside, the stable boy took his mount. He scanned the area for Thomas, but the lad was nowhere in sight. Probably hiding under his gran’s skirts. The kink between Gavin’s shoulder blades returned. He’d been a fool. If he had gone out this morn without the lad and Mistress Audrey, he would have had his opportunity. Now he would have to wait and meet Hetta under the watchful eye of Rory Maxwell.
“A word with you, my lord.” The intrusive voice of Mistress Audrey paused his steps on the spiral stairs.
He spun about. “What now?”
“Why?” she snapped. “Why are you so cruel to your son?” Her pink cheeks now shone bright red, her breath short and fast.
His gaze raced around the courtyard. A few servants had paused in their tasks. “Not here, not now, mistress,” Gavin said low through clenched teeth.
She folded her arms over her chest and fixed her stance like a tough termagant. “Then where and when?”
Enough. He was done fighting with her. He was done with her accusations and snobbish ways. He was done with her telling him what to do. “Follow me, mistress.”
With long strides, he strode through the gate to the grassy meadows beyond. A good furlong away from the tower he stopped, waiting for her to catch up.
She stopped and wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand while trying to cat
ch her breath. “Well, sir. We are alone. You can start with your yelling and shouting. I am sure no one will hear the boar from here.”
The woman tested his resolve like no other. “Mistress, it seems you are incapable of keeping your thoughts to yourself. I have warned you many a time that things in the borders are not like things in London. Here you can trust no man or wumman.”
“And London is different? You are sadly mistaken. There is much more intrigue and danger within that city than you can imagine.”
His pulse increased at her loose words. “What intrigue do you speak of?”
She blanched and took a step back. Her high color draining away. “I-I spoke in generalities. Nothing more. Criminals abound on the city streets.”
Obviously, but that was not what she meant by intrigue. He took a patient breath. “If you wish to stay, you must learn to censor your words.”
The lass cast her eyes to the side. Plainly, she had heard the same reprimand from others. “I am trying,” she said meekly. “But I just do not understand why you are so harsh with your son. He admires you so much. What harm is there in showing a little love and understanding to the boy?”
They were back to the same conversation they had had many a time. His ire rose, and his temper flared. “Stop meddling with the lad.”
“Stop shouting at me. The boy is your seed. What father does not love his son?”
“He’s not my son,” Gavin bellowed.
Her hand shot to her throat as her eyes became as wide as a cart’s wheel.
Anger drove him on. “Take a good look at him. Does he look like my son?”
“Nay, but I thought his mother…”
“He looks nothing like her either.”
“But that does not mean—”
“In this case it does. The lad is not mine. Now leave it alone.” He gave her his back and stomped to the keep. He had said too much. Truce Day couldn’t come fast enough because he knew she wouldn’t let the subject go, and that might put them all in danger.