by Olivia Rae
Later that eve, as he sat in his chamber perusing Warring’s accounts, he heard a creaking of a cart in the courtyard. Standing, he went to the window. There he saw Mistress Audrey and Peter exchanging words. She handed him a piece of parchment. As the cart rumbled out of the courtyard, she made the sign of the cross over her chest before she fled back into the tower.
A slow burn began to fill his belly. So, the lady was a Catholic. Why would Pimberly send a papist to Warring Tower and to whom did she write? Quickly Gavin reached for his sword and dagger. He knew Peter’s habits well. Before heading for the English countryside, he would stop and quench his thirst at a local tavern. Gavin would be waiting.
Chapter Thirteen
Unable to sleep, Audrey dressed and headed down the spiral stairs. She had hastily written the queen’s missive and now regretted every word. Trying to gain some control in these lawless lands, would Queen Elizabeth use Thomas’s paternity against Gavin? What would happen if he disowned the boy? Poor Thomas. He could be left a nameless, penniless pauper. And she had added to this tragedy.
Audrey placed a fist against her forehead. Why did she not stick to generalities as she had first planned? So set was she on proving her worthiness as a spy, she might have jeopardized the boy’s future.
She slipped into the chapel, fell to her knees, and clutched her hands. Dear Heavenly Father, forgive me of putting my own desires above those of others. Please let not my words harm Thomas. Keep him safe. Soften Laird Armstrong’s heart toward Thomas. I ask all this in your son’s name. Amen.
“Oh my, what are you doing in here so early?”
Audrey froze and swiped a hand across her eyes. Clearly Lady Francis could not sleep either. Gaining control, Audrey rose. “I was just spending some time in prayer.”
“You have missed a few days, have you not?” The reprimand in the older woman’s voice was light, though her eyes kept darting to Thomas’s hiding place. Did she think I took the ring?
Audrey gave a mental shake and focused on Lady Francis. “I am sorry. I was trying to grow the bond between Thomas and his father through riding.”
“As I have heard from Thomas. But it did not go well, did it?”
Despair squeezed Audrey’s chest. “Nay. Thomas wanted to greet his former nurse, Hetta, and your son became quite cross. The gap between them is even wider now, and I promised Laird Armstrong I would not speak to Thomas anymore.”
The pleasantness slipped from Lady Francis’s features. “Hetta,” she whispered, stepping back and putting a hand to her heart.
“Do you need to sit, my lady?” Audrey reached out and took Lady Francis’s elbow.
“Nay, aye…” Lady Francis pulled away. “But not here. Come, let us go to my solar.”
Audrey guided Lady Francis up the stairs and pushed open the door to her room. The opulence caused Audrey to pause. A large four-poster bed with yellowing linen curtains stood against a wall. Animal skins were neatly placed in front of a large bronze brazier. Two old green fabric chairs sat next to a round table. On top of the table stood two silver goblets and a matching pitcher. An elegant, aged tapestry of three women dancing hung on another wall, and a large chest with brass handles fit snug in a corner.
Lady Francis stepped over the threshold and motioned to Audrey. “Come. Though the fire has gone out, the room is very comfortable.”
The chamber was almost as lavish as any Audrey had seen at Queen Mary’s court. The opposite of Edlyn’s room or even the boys’ chamber. The solar was twice the size and clearly meant to be the laird’s—yet it wasn’t.
“Ah. I see your mind turning. This old woman lives like a queen.” Lady Francis sat in one of the soft chairs and again motioned to the other. “Do sit down.”
Audrey quickly complied, but she did not affirm the older woman’s words.
Lady Francis reached for a pitcher and poured two goblets of water. “All of what you see here came from my home in England before I married. I offered all to Gavin to pay Warring’s debts, but he refused.” She paused, letting her sad gaze rest on each object. “If he had, perhaps all would be different now.”
Audrey opened her mouth to speak, but Lady Francis seemed far away in the past and did not want to be disturbed.
“After my husband died, I wanted to move into the chamber above us, but Gavin would have none of it. So, I stayed—here.” Lady Francis grabbed a goblet and took a long drink before wiping her mouth. “Even when things went bad.”
“Bad?” Audrey leaned in, hoping to calm the lady’s distress.
“Aye.” Lady Francis’s eyes filled with tears. “Gavin never got along with his father. The lad was an irritant to my husband. No matter how I tried to smooth things between them, they only got worse.”
Audrey had already heard too much over the last few days. What would be offered now? More sweet tidbits to pass on to the queen. She wanted to cover her ears. On the other hand, she wanted to hear more. Guilt gnawed at her insides. “My lady, you do not—”
“Of course, I do.” Lady Francis croaked before taking another drink. “Gavin spent much of his time with Fraser and Jaxon. Mostly Fraser. They would run wild on the marches. Drinking, gambling, and carousing. My husband was at his wits’ end.”
What father wouldn’t be? Audrey had seen many a young man ruin the family name by such antics. “But he did grow out of it.”
Lady Francis sadly laughed. “Not right away. Gavin was still a wild rogue when my husband died. In truth, his behavior became worse. He was loud, brash, mean, and drunk most of the time. He tore through the tower like a wild boar.”
That is how he got his name. “Surely guilt ate at him for not reconciling with his father before he died.”
“Possibly. But all that changed once he wed Edlyn.”
Then despite the questionable paternity of Thomas, Gavin Armstrong must have loved Edlyn regardless of what Jaxon had said. “A good woman can have a marvelous effect on some men.”
Lady Francis raised her greying brows. “Really? I have never seen such, and especially not with Edlyn. Truth be told, it was quite the opposite.”
“But—”
“Let me finish. Many months after my husband died, Gavin went on a rampage. In a drunken stupor, he tore the tower apart. Even knocked out a couple of Clyde’s teeth. And he has few to spare. Seeing the man bloody on the floor, Gavin fled and was gone for almost a year. There were reports of how he was gambling, and drinking, and other things…”
Heat flooded Audrey’s body. Even when he held himself in check, Gavin Armstrong oozed with manly desires. What would he be like out of control? A slight shiver skidded down her spine. “You do not have to tell me more. These are private matters.”
Plus, Lady Francis could give some incriminating evidence that would link Laird Armstrong with those trying to cause a great rift between Dowager Mary de Guise’s Catholics and those of the Reformed Church or worse against the English and Queen Elizabeth. Regret crushed Audrey’s chest. She did not want to cause any more harm to a family who had obviously suffered so much.
Tears washed down the older woman’s cheeks. “Nay, they need to be brought to light.” Lady Francis picked at a nonexistent spot on her gown. “I tried to run Warring Tower by myself, but I never stopped praying that God would return my prodigal son to me.”
Audrey picked up a cloth, handing it to Lady Francis. “And he has.”
Lady Francis dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “But at what cost? When Gavin did return, he brought a wife and a babe. It all became clear to me then.”
Audrey fought to purge the fog from her brain for nothing made sense to her. Nor did she care to know. Especially if her words would deem Gavin a traitor to his own people.
Lady Francis carried on. “It was not just my husband’s death that plagued Gavin. He had a child out of wedlock.” The cloth fell to the floor. “Well, at least he did the right thing and married Edlyn. All was well for a while.”
Audrey took a sip of her water to h
old her speech. Laird Armstrong had said the child wasn’t his. This tale was growing more perplexing by the moment. But why would Gavin reveal such a secret to her but keep his mother in the dark? Or had he lied and his mother held the truth?
“They resided as a fairly happy couple in the chamber above while Thomas slept where he does now, and his nurse Hetta slept in the chamber you now occupy.”
“But I thought that was Edlyn’s room?” Audrey blurted out. Her head began to pound from all the contradictions.
Clouds entered Lady Francis’s eyes again. “That did not happen until after Marcas was born. Edlyn claimed she wanted to be closer to her children. I offered her my chamber, but she would not have it. She slept with Hetta, though I have no idea how they managed.”
The narrow bed Audrey rested upon was never meant to hold two people. Something was still missing from this puzzling tale.
“Then when Edlyn died… I cannot tell you the words that were said between Gavin and Hetta.” Fresh tears pooled in Lady Francis’s eyes. “Soon after, Hetta fled and sought protection from Rory Maxwell.”
Talons of foreboding grabbed at Audrey’s heart. “Why would she need protection?”
“Because Hetta accused my son of murdering Edlyn.”
Chapter Fourteen
Gavin ordered another butt to be placed outside the tower wall where he could practice his archery skills in peace. He pulled the hemp string tight and fixed his bow, measuring the weight carefully in his hand. His father had been a superior archer; his arrow always struck the mark perfectly. Since it was Ian Armstrong’s weapon of choice, Gavin chose another. He was an expert on horseback. A true reiver. He should have practiced his archery skills more.
No combat would be found in the Truce feats since the people of the borderlands were bone-weary from all the violence they experienced during their everyday lives. They wanted only joviality. No reminders of war, poverty, or starvation. It started with a few wrestling matches and then grew into much, much more.
Besides the Armstrongs and the Maxwells, two English families would participate in the feats. The Halls and the Dunneses were reiving families that just happened to settle on the English side of the border. Depending on the year, they could be an unbeatable force. However, this year would be the Armstrongs’ year.
The horse race gave Gavin no concern. He could win that while snoring. Rory Maxwell would be the victor in the archery contest; he had not lost in six years. Maxwell’s cousin Ualan laid claim to the blade toss. If the English hadn’t gone soft from last year, they would win the lang spear and the wrestling contest. Usually, the footrace settled the feats. Whoever had the fastest lad would win the day. If the games split evenly between any families, then an ax throw would determine the victor.
The Armstrongs had not won the games since Ian Armstrong died, but this year things would be different. They had the fastest runner in Duncan. If they won the horse race and the footrace, then they would only need to win one more feat. Most believed Audrey would outwit Ualan with her accurate dagger. But she was a woman, and experience had taught Gavin that women weren’t very practicable. He wouldn’t lose again and face the humiliation of allowing Maxwell the win or the English. Warring Tower may not be the grandest, but the Armstrong lineage begot many warriors. This year was theirs.
The muscles in Gavin’s arm groaned as he pulled back the string, aiming for the brown cloth. Letting go of his breath, he loosed the arrow. All sound fell away as the arrow drifted on a mild breeze to land well below the mark.
Blast! Bairn whined and rolled onto his side away from the butt. Gavin eyed the dog. “Agreed, a poor showing to say the least.” He wiped the sweat from his brow with a cloth, discarding the linen on a wooden bench that sat nearby.
Stomping his feet on the firm ground, Gavin approached the butt and yanked out the arrow. ’Twas all for naught. Six arrows had missed the mark. The Maxwells or the English would win the feats again. In his mind he heard Rory’s laughter. Perhaps he should forget about archery and focus on something else.
The feats were only one of his problems. The other was much bigger and had a saucy mouth—Mistress Audrey Hayes.
Gavin rubbed his bruised knuckles. The missive he had taken from Peter, after a little persuasion, spoke of the daily activities at Warring Tower and Thomas’s questionable heritage. One drivel was obvious, while the other was troubling. Why did he tell her such an important secret? He should throw the bonnie traitor in chains right now, but that would not produce the needed answers. Who did she work for? He doubted she would just tell him outright, and he wasn’t one to torture a maid, or a man for that matter.
He nocked his arrow and set his sight on the target once again, picturing the prim, secretive lass. The arrow flew straight and landed right in the middle of the drab cloth. Perfect. If he kept up his ire against the lady, he could beat Rory Maxwell and the English with the bow.
Peter claimed he only delivered the missives to a man in Lanercost and knew nothing more. To save his neck, he made an agreement. Each missive would be delivered to Gavin, and a different note would be substituted and sent to Mistress Pittman on Little Lane. Audrey acted like a courtly lady, not some poor mistress raised on a farm. Mistress Pittman had to be someone of importance. Someone who might have the ear of Queen Elizabeth. However, why would the queen be interested in him or Thomas? He needed answers. The thought of Thomas being harmed hit him like a backhanded blow.
Gavin pulled another arrow from his quiver and studied the butt. The cloth took on a look of Audrey’s face. With perfect perfection, the arrow landed slightly above the other.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the traitorous woman sneaking away from the tower. “Mistress,” he called out, but Audrey did not stop. Bairn sat and started to bark, wagging his tail. “Go fetch the lass,” Gavin ordered.
The large hound took off and chased Audrey, knocking her to the ground. Bairn howled and slobbered her with affectionate licks.
“Get off me, you big oaf,” she cried, but Bairn only answered her pleas by placing one large paw on her chest.
With long strides, Gavin came to her side and stifled a laugh at the wet mess of a woman before him. “Mistress, I told you to stop.”
She wiped her hands over her face, trying to peek between her dark lashes. “Get this beast off of me. Do you want him to kill me with his slobber?”
Gavin laughed. “If I wanted to kill you, I would have used my bow.”
She froze, and fright entered her eyes, chilling his bones. He had not seen such a look since Edlyn…
Shagging the dog away, Gavin held out his hand. Her fingers were cold to the touch and shaking. Swiftly he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, lifting her to her feet. A soft fragrance of heather wafted from her locks. She looked like a frightened child. Truly, did she believe he would harm her?
“Mistress,” he said gently, giving her shoulders a protective squeeze. “I willnae harm ye.”
She wormed away from his grasp, brushing an arm across her face to remove the rest of the dog’s drool. “I…you should not scare a person so.”
Grass stuck out of her braid in every direction. A smudge of dirt clung to one cheek. What a bonnie lass. If she were not a spy, he would kiss her until she did not know her own name. Perchance he would kiss her anyway.
He pulled a long stalk from her hair and handed it to her. “Forgive me, but you should not be wandering the meadows alone.”
She dropped the twig and brushed dirt off her gown. “I was not going to be alo…” Her hand stalled on her frock. “What did you say?”
Another lie had almost slipped from her lips. “Nay, mistress. As you were saying, you werenae going to be…”
She curled her hands in her skirt and licked her lips, giving them the most delectable sheen.
Gavin placed his hands on his hips. “Who were you going to meet? Jaxon?”
A hand flew to her throat. “Absolutely not.”
“Then who, Audrey?” His
gaze captured her glossy lips. “Do I need to retrieve my bow?”
Her eyes widen. “Sir, I-I…you should not…” She blew a piece of wayward hair from her face. “I was going to see Thomas.”
As he suspected. Why was the lad such an interest to her? “What am I going to do with you?” he said in a low voice.
Once again, she fiddled with her skirt. “My lord, I do not know what to say. I have heard some things, and I fear for the boy’s safety.”
What turn of events was this? Did she speak of whom she wrote the letter to, or did she fear someone else would harm Thomas? He frowned. Surely she did not think he would harm the lad. “Tell me what you have heard?”
Color rose in her cheeks, and she glanced past him to the tower gate. “I am a mite parched. Could we return to the hall?”
Her evasion tried his patience. “What about Thomas? How is he in danger?”
She touched her brow, and her eyes darted left then right. A forced laugh left her throat. “I may have been mistaken.” She glanced at the hound sitting to her left, panting and drooling profusely. “I had a terrible fright. Let us go get that drink.” He blocked her steps when she tried to get around him.
“Audrey,” he said softly, leaning closer to her. “Are you afraid of me?”
A tight squeak followed by a whine left her throat before she nodded.
Looking heavenward, Gavin let out a long, patient sigh. His words would probably wind up in her next missive, but he could not abide a maid who would tremble at the sight of him or contemplate sticking a blade in his ribs.
He waved toward the wooden bench near the butt. “I have a flagon of water over yonder, and we shall be close enough to the tower in case you need to call out for help, which I assure you willnae be necessary.”
Before offering her his arm, she took off with Bairn howling at her heels. She plunked down on the bench without even looking at the flagon. With measured steps, Gavin strode to stand in front of her. He picked up the flagon and offered her a drink. Without a word, she took the flask, drank, and then handed it back to him.