by Olivia Rae
“Remove your hands, sir.” Audrey twisted and turned, trying to gain her freedom, but Ewart’s grip tightened until he had the audacity to plant a wet kiss on her cheek. “You’re disgusting,” she hissed.
Ewart threw back his head and roared. “Ah, mistress, such flattery.”
When he bent down for another kiss, Audrey stomped on his foot and then gave a swift kick to his shin. He released her, hopping about on one foot.
At the same time, Blair raised her knee and caught Ualan in a most unfortunate place. The man crumpled to his knees.
“Leave now,” Audrey shouted as Ewart reached out and grabbed the hem of her gown.
A squeal of a scream echoed in the hall. Like a banshee, Thomas tore across the hall with the iron horseshoe high above his head. With great force, he slammed the shoe on Ewart’s head, laying him flat on the floor. Blair took an enthusiastic swing at Ualan’s nose when he tried to stand. He too landed in a heap next to his cousin.
“Hey? Lord’s mercy.” Clyde jumped to his feet, fumbling for his dagger.
“What is happening here?” thundered a familiar voice.
Audrey spun about and gulped. There stood Gavin Armstrong with flames of fury igniting his face. Next to him stood a stone-faced Rory Maxwell.
The battle had just begun.
Chapter Seventeen
The pandemonium in his hall was only a small irritation compared to the brewing contempt that stirred up his wrath. Not only was Audrey Hayes a spy, she was here to systematically destroy everything he had worked to restore. The demure, innocent maid was a fine disguise for a conniving, evil witch. Playing the coy maid when, in fact, she might have known all along about Thomas’s parentage. She probably even welcomed Ewart’s slimy touch. He’d deal with her soon, but one problem at a time. He needed to first get Rory Maxwell and the rest of his brutish family out of Warring Tower.
“He kept gropin’ me, Laird Armstrong,” Blair whined as Ualan made another attempt to rise to his feet.
As if Ualan was the first to lay a hand on the wench. Gavin fought the urge not to shake his head. Without question, she and Audrey had a hand in whetting the lustful appetites that provoked the Maxwells.
Thomas beamed from ear to ear, holding out an old horseshoe. “I rescued Mistress Audrey.”
That Thomas was in the middle of all of this fired up Gavin’s innards. He glared at Clyde. “And where were you?”
Clyde rubbed his jaw and dropped his gaze to the floor without answer.
“Please, this is not Clyde’s fault.” Audrey stood in the middle of the carnage and had the audacity to blush. “If you must blame someone, blame me.”
Aye, he would love to, but everyone present seemed to have played a part in this tale.
“Ach, the devil take them.” Rory Maxwell marched over to his son and pulled him up by the back of his neck. He then cast a furious glance at his cousin. “I told ye not to give Lady Francis any trouble, and here ye are, tryin’ to bump her wummin.”
At that very moment, Gavin’s mother with her head held high like a regal queen entered the hall with Bairn in tow. “What goes on here?”
The dog charged forward and leaped on Ualan, knocking him to the ground. Immediately Bairn clamped down on his arm.
“Let go,” Gavin shouted, his temper flaring at the whole fiasco before him. Though he was sorely tempted to let the dog have his way with the cretin, the Maxwells were already subdued. The dog released Ualan and came to Gavin’s side.
“I should kill that dug.” Ualan rubbed his sore arm before coming to his feet.
“Leave off, Ualan, or I’ll gut ye where ye stand.” Maxwell flushed a deep shade of purple, then concentrated his anger on Ewart, who finally seemed to be regaining his senses. Maxwell slapped Ewart on the back of his head. “Ye have to forgive my son and my kin. They are a bunch of fools. We be leavin’. I’m sorry for all the ruckus they have caused, Lady Francis.”
A grim tightness held her lips as she appraised Maxwell.
After a push in the shoulder by his father, Ewart stumbled forward. Ualan came to his aid and helped the younger man out of the hall. Rory pulled his cap from his head and bowed low to Gavin’s mother. “Beg yer forgiveness, my lady.”
Gavin’s mother stared at the man as if he were nothing more than a pile of dung.
When she said nothing, a cold mask fell across Maxwell’s features, and he stormed to the entry pausing only briefly at Gavin’s side. “I’ll be contactin’ ye shortly to collect me payment.” Maxwell jammed his cap back on his head and left.
Payment. Of course, he would not forget the debt Gavin owed—helping the Scottish Catholics reduce the Reformers’ power, securing Mary Stuart’s rights to the Scottish throne and possibly more—the English Crown. What a fine mess. Gavin lifted his gaze and directed his fury at a most worthy opponent. One who did not keep young Thomas safe.
“Escort Mistress Audrey to her chamber,” he ordered Clyde. “And make sure she stays there until she is summoned.” Clyde came to her side, his head hung low. “One more thing, your dagger, mistress.”
“’Tis in my chamber,” she snapped.
Gavin wanted to scold her for leaving herself and Thomas unprotected, but instead he answered, “How unfortunate.” He looked to Clyde. “Retrieve the blade and bring it to me.”
The glare in the lass’s eyes could have frosted a frog, but it had no effect on him. Wisely, she did not open her mouth but gave him her back as she headed for the stairs. Clyde gave his opinion by shaking his head. Once they were out of sight, Gavin focused on Thomas. Agony clawed through his body. How long before they came to take his son? A son only hours ago he was willing to give up. But now…
The lad proudly held out the horseshoe. “I got him good, Da. I defended a maid’s honor just like you taught me.”
Tears burned at the back of Gavin’s eyes. He knelt down and pulled his son into his arms, kissing his auburn locks. “You are a brave lad, but in the future, I want you to be careful. Had I not returned, those men may have harmed you and the ladies. Promise me you willnae take such a chance again?”
Thomas pulled back, his face grave. “Da, are you all right? Why are you cryin’?”
Gavin winced and wiped his cheek. A mule should kick him. For months, he had been pushing the lad away. No wonder Thomas questioned his father’s sanity.
“I am fine. Just heed my words. In the future, I dinnae want you to go out into the meadows alone.”
A familiar pout punched out Thomas’s lip. “I am not a bairn. I know how to take care of meself.”
He didn’t want to scare the lad. His life was more important than anyone else’s in the tower. Why hadn’t Edlyn told him? Didn’t she know the truth? Perhaps not. But someone did, and she resided under his own roof.
Gavin gripped Thomas’s shoulders. “Listen to me. For the time being, I want you to stay within the tower walls. There is trouble brewing.”
“Worse than usual?” The lad’s eyes shone with excitement.
The constant border fighting had become an ordinary part of living here. Thomas had been taught to be strong and not fear anything. How could years of such training be undone? Or perchance they were just the skills a king would need.
An idea sprung forth. “I am most proud of how you defended Blair and Mistress Audrey this day, but I fear Gran might be in trouble too. Stay close to her. We have to make sure no harm comes to our wummin.”
Thomas puffed out his chest. “Aye, Da, I will keep a close eye on our family.” He lifted the horseshoe. “And if someone tries to hurt Gran, they will answer to me.”
Another wave of pride rushed through Gavin’s chest. His son would be a mighty warrior someday, and if possible, an honorable king.
* * *
Audrey paced back and forth across her tiny chamber. Whatever trust she had gained with Gavin over the past few days had been lost by not heeding his words. Sin or not, she should have lied to Thomas and kept him safe by the river, making her
plead to God for forgiveness later. There was no doubt that Gavin would hold her responsible for this raucous folly. Instead of pacing the room, she should be packing her few belongings. Peter should be returning any day. Best to leave immediately, feign a failure in her mission, and beg Queen Elizabeth to be merciful.
But right now, Audrey had a more immediate problem. How was she going to ease the boar’s temper? For certain he would lay blame for the whole Ewart Maxwell incident at her feet. The dark hues of purple and orange filtered through the small chamber window signaling the fast approach of the end of the day, and yet Gavin had not appeared. Did he plan to come at all? Or did he wish to punish her by keeping her cloistered in this room forever?
Loud voices rose in the nursery. Audrey put an ear to the door.
“What? We’re movin’ to where?” Mistress Jonet’s voice drifted down the hall. “Why do we have to leave now? ’Twill be dark soon.”
Gavin was moving the children out of their chamber. Why? Something must have happened to make him act so rash. Surely, he did not fear her? She would never harm the boys. Anger bubbled up as she headed toward the door. On this matter she would set him straight. They were as precious to her as if they were her own children. Audrey pulled the latch, but it would not budge. She wiggled it again. Locked. Why would Gavin do such a thing?
With both fists, she pounded on the door, crying and then finally begging for release, but no one answered her plea. She slid down, leaning her back against the entry. Carefully she folded her hands in her lap.
Dear Lord, I know I have not always been a faithful servant, but I beg you, watch over Thomas and Marcas during this uncertain time. If it be thy will, free me from these confines and show me what I am supposed to do. I am so confused. I ask all this in your son’s name. Amen.
A sense of calm rushed over Audrey’s spirit. Her eyelids grew heavy. Pleasant dreams filled her mind… She walked in a grand meadow. Blossoms of heather and wild pansies brushed against her bare feet. Laugher of young children filled the air while a dog’s howl drifted on the wind. Her fingers brushed against the rough wood floor…
With a start, she awoke, her hand splayed on the worn floor. Dust particles danced on the bright morning rays slowly drifting in from the window. She rolled her shoulders to ease the stiffness in her neck. Somehow, she had slept the whole night on the floor. Rising, she made her way to the window. The courtyard was unusually quiet. Feet pattered on the floor above her, followed by Bairn’s usual bark. Gavin had moved the children upstairs. Whatever for?
The slip of the latch drew Audrey’s attention. Blair rushed in with a bowl of pottage and oatcakes, placing them on the table. “Here we go, mistress. A little somethin’ to fill yer belly.”
In the doorway stood a burly man with crossed arms.
“Where is Clyde? Am I to be locked up like a prisoner? Where is Laird Armstrong? I wish to speak to him,” Audrey demanded.
The brute did not change his expression, but Blair wiped her hands on her apron, giving her an apologetic look. “I am not sure what to tell ye, mistress. Laird Armstrong was in a foul mood all night. Ye are supposed to stay here for a while. I am sorry.”
“While his lordship rides the marches and goes about his usual day.” Audrey glared at the pair. The lout standing in the door prevented an escape. Blair dropped her chin. “If it makes ye feel any better, he slept outside the little one’s new cham—”
The man cleared his throat, and Blair scurried to the door. She glanced back. “I am so sorry, mistress.” The door slammed shut, and the latch fell into place.
Audrey stood alone. The lord of the manor had spoken. How dare he judge her without giving her a voice. Her only crime was trying to keep his son safe. Which she had failed at miserably. She slammed her hands on the table. Could she not do anything right?
Steam curled upward from the warm bowl of pottage, and Audrey’s stomach rumbled. She had not eaten since yesterday afternoon. Pulling out a chair, she sat down at the table and ate the pottage, then drank the last of the remaining water in the pitcher. With her belly full, she lay back down on the bed and went over all her shortcomings and, more importantly, all the ways she was going to kill Gavin Armstrong once she got out of this chamber.
Her list exhausted on both fronts, she closed her eyes. The next time she opened them midday shadows filled the corners. She slapped her hands on the sides of the bed before standing. Her throat parched; she tipped the clay pitcher. Not a drop. Did the boar mean to have her die of thirst?
Audrey strode to the door and banged her fists against the solid surface. “Lout, tell your master I need water. Tell him I wish to speak to him.”
Not a sound could be heard.
She slammed, kicked, and scratched at the door. “Do you hear me? I need water. I need to talk to your master, now!”
Her tantrum was finally rewarded when she heard the latch open again. But the face that greeted her constricted her dry throat.
Wearing a deep frown and a black leather jack of plates and breeks, Gavin held out a pitcher. “Mistress, your water.” He shuffled a step back. “And I believe you have something to tell me.”
All the words she had rehearsed earlier floated away. She wobbled her head like a silly goose. How was she going to make him believe what she spoke was truth and from her heart?
He kicked the door closed, then placed the pitcher on the table. “Sit, mistress. Have a drink and then we shall talk.” His eyes narrowed like sharp daggers.
Moving to the table, Audrey stood and, barring her good graces, drank straight from the pitcher, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “What right do you have to keep me locked up?”
His hands curled into fists, and his chest expanded. She gripped the pitcher to her breast for defense.
“Sit,” he said in a cold lethal voice.
When she did not comply, he stepped closer, towering over her, his stare riveted to her face. He dug into his jack and pulled out a missive, throwing it on the table.
A wave of defeat swept from the top of Audrey’s head to the tips of her toes at the sight of the familiar note. She eased away and perched on the edge of her chair. He would want her dead now. “Where did you get that?”
“I know all that goes on at Warring Tower. Did you think your deception would go unnoticed?” The warm spring wind outside brought the promise that summer was close, but his chilly gaze and icy stance spoke of a harsh winter instead. The ruse was up, and she had lost.
“Please let me explain.”
“I want the truth. All of it,” he snapped. “The lives of my children are at stake. Are you capable of giving me the truth?”
Every muscle in her body tensed. “I did not want to do this.”
He slammed his hand on the table, causing her to jump. “Stop with your useless prattle. Who sent you here to spy on us?”
Audrey licked her lips trying to form the words that would convict her. “I am trying to tell you, but you must stop shouting.”
He brushed a hand through his long blond hair and pinned her again with his glacial blue glaze. “Mistress, I never shout. Now, the truth.”
“You do not understand. If I tell you, my family will suffer.”
Gavin pointed to the missive. “You would rather my family suffer?”
“Nay!” Tears sprung in her eyes. “I have no desire to hurt anyone. The queen just did not give me a choice.”
His lips slit into a mock grin. “The queen? Out with it. All of it.”
As if the noose had already been put around her neck, Audrey took a stiff swallow. “Queen Elizabeth sent me. She feared you were conspiring with the papists and the dowager queen. With those who want to put Mary of Scots on the English throne.”
Some of the frost fell from his features. “Go on,” he said coolly.
As her heart rate kicked up, Audrey began to see colors, but she fought away the fear. She had to be strong for her family’s sake. For Thomas’s sake.
“I am waiting.
No fake swoon will save you from the punishment you deserve.”
The colored spots grew. “Please, a little more water.”
Gavin poured half a cup and pushed it toward her. The cold water sluiced down her throat, returning a bit of calm.
“She also wanted me to keep an eye on Thomas.”
The icy reserve melted from his eyes as if a blazing fire burned his soul. He leaned over, placing his hands on the back of her chair. A scent of the marches and leather filled her nostrils. “Why? Why would Queen Elizabeth send a spy to check up on my son? Why do you keep lying to me when all here have been nothing but kind to you?” His voice barely above a whisper, his eyes filled with a sadness that gripped her heart.
She had faced poverty as a child, intrigue at court, and humiliation from her stepfather, but never had she encountered such venom laced with such agony. Fingers of fear scraped across her chest and shredded her stomach. She pushed him away and tried to stand. “I-I do not know. I was just supposed to report your comings and goings and what the boy did. I did not want to do it. She forced me. She promised to harm my family if I did not help her.”
The colorful spots swirled and danced in Audrey’s vision. She stumbled, trying to get to the door. “You cannot keep me here. I promise I will not report back.” She hurried forward. Her slipper caught on a jagged stone. She reached out but could not brace herself against the threshold. She tumbled down, and with a smack, everything turned black.
Chapter Eighteen
Gavin rushed over and lifted Audrey by the shoulders, looking for any injury to her head. Relief rushed through him when he found none. But what of injuries he could not see? “Audrey, Audrey.” He patted her cheeks. She did not respond. In fact, her face was ashen and her red lips faded. A vision of a lifeless Edlyn filled his memory and stole his breath. His stomach began to burn. Quickly he scooped Audrey up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
“Audrey, Audrey,” he cried again. Yet she remained still. What had he done? “May I be burned in oil.” Once again, his words and actions might cause another woman’s demise. He stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. “Mother, Mother,” he yelled.