by Olivia Rae
Barrels were being rolled to the kitchen as a few chickens squawked in makeshift crates. A servant sat counting the few sacks of grain they had left from last winter. Everyone was going about their usual duties. All seemed normal, yet Gavin could not hold his unease a moment longer. “Where are my sons?” he shouted. “Has Maxwell been here?”
All activity stopped. Even the chickens ceased their protest. His servants looked upon him as if he had been dropped on his head at birth.
“Yer sons are safe. Maxwell did show his ugly face here, but we sent him on his way with his scrawny whimpering son. I swear if I had such a lad for my heir, I would run him through before he held his first blade.” Hew always had such an eloquent way of saying things.
A tightness left Gavin’s chest, but he still could not shake his fear. He did not see his sons anywhere. “You have my thanks for protecting my family. Where are the lads?” His words came out as a strangled howl.
“They are fine.” His mother wrapped her arm around his, giving him a faint but reassuring smile. “At this very moment, Thomas is playing swords with Jaxon in the hall.” She paused. “He has been very…noisy being kept inside.”
His mother was being kind. No doubt, Thomas was being a holy terror. Gavin raced up the steps to the hall. His prediction had been correct. Thomas stood on the long table, jabbing his wooden sword at Jaxon, who screamed for mercy. Bairn ran around the table howling like a fiend. Gavin gave out a sigh of relief.
Thomas dropped the sword and jumped down, his face red with embarrassment. He folded his hands behind his back like a repentant child.
The desire to hug and kiss the lad was great, but Gavin held back. “Where are your nurse and brother?”
“Upstairs sleepin’. That’s what old ladies and babes do.” Thomas raised his chin like a royal.
Royal or not, he was an Armstrong. Gavin scooped the lad up in his arms and hugged him tight.
“Da I cannae breathe,” Thomas whined.
Gavin’s worries drained away. He wanted nothing more than to spend the day laughing and playing with his son.
Jaxon wiped his brow and took a seat at the table. “The lad will make a fine swordsman someday. He fights like a man with purpose. He’s not the timid sort.”
Nor is his mother. The thought of Queen Elizabeth sobered Gavin. Foiling Maxwell’s plan to kill Stewart and Knox had been like playing with wooden swords. His encounter with the English queen over Thomas’s future would be far more lethal.
“I am thirsty,” Thomas complained.
“Blair,” Gavin called, “take the lad to the scullery and get him a cool drink. Then bring Jaxon a mug of beer.”
Thomas ran off to the scullery before Blair could grab his hand. In a few more years, he would be as swift as Duncan. A dull ache settled in Gavin’s chest. Would the lad still be here, or would the queen find a safer haven for her son? Once again, the idea of Thomas leaving Warring Tower turned his gut raw. Clenching his teeth, he turned away from the idea. Another problem sprung forth. Even though Audrey saved his life, what was he supposed to about the brash female?
Blair brought back two mugs. Accepting his drink, Gavin sat down next to his cousin. “I cannae believe your father came to our aid.”
Jaxon took a long drink, then smacked his lips. “When he heard Maxwell was involved, he couldnae get to his horse fast enough. A drop of Armstrong blood outweighs old feuds. Besides, he’d rather have yer sorry hide livin’ next to our lands than that skinny pup of Maxwell’s.”
Just then Hew Armstrong sauntered into the hall with Gavin’s mother, laughing and whispering like a pair of old friends—more than friends. The man who claimed to hate the English seemed awfully content having a lady of such birth on his arm.
“Someday we might be brothers.” Jaxon winked.
Gavin’s stomach soured. The sooner Hew Armstrong left, the better. “Nay, I think not.”
His mother came over and put her hand on Gavin’s shoulders. “If it is all the same to you, I think I will go upstairs and take a little rest. It has been a trying few days. We will talk later, my son.”
The dark circles under her eyes and the lines around her mouth seemed more pronounced. Guilt slammed into Gavin’s chest. He had caused all of this. Had he not wished to see Hetta, none of this would have happened. Now, Ualan was dead and Maxwell would want revenge. All here knew it.
Gavin gave his mother’s hand a tight squeeze. “Rest easy.”
“’Tis good to have you home.” She leaned over and kissed his temple before heading for the stairs.
Hew took the seat across from him and grabbed Gavin’s mug, finishing off the contents. With a sigh and a belch, he leveled Gavin with an intense glare. “Well, lad. We have a fine mess here. I need to know all.”
’Twas the least Gavin could do. Most of the details poured from his lips, though he did not divulge his meeting with Hetta and the parentage of Thomas.
“Killin’ Ualan willnae be taken lightly. Maxwell will want ye dead.” Hew waved the empty mug in the air, looking for more drink. “What do ye plan to do about it?”
Gavin flexed his fingers and then rested them on his thighs. “I will give him what he wants.”
His uncle slammed a fist on the table. “Are ye mad? Yer goin’ to give up yer sons’ inheritance? Let me call the rest of the family together. We’ll ride tonight.”
“That’s not the answer. John Knox is stirring up the Reformers in Perth. Mary de Guise is allowing the French free rein within our borders, hoping to crush them. The English will not sit quietly by and watch the French gain control of Scotland. A war is brewing. These lands will be washed with blood soon enough.”
Hew drummed his fingers on the table. “I like the foreigners less than I like ye. But ye cannae just give up.”
“That is why I need your help. Truce Day is in a fortnight. I will wager Warring Tower against any purse Maxwell is willing to put up. That will change his desire of revenging Ualan’s death to his favorite loves—land, gold, and power.”
Hew leaned across the table and lifted his fist until it was level with Gavin’s eyes. “I thought ye had given up yer foolish ways, but I see I was wrong. We havenae won the Truce feats in years. Even with your knife-throwing wench, our chances are very slim.”
A flash of Audrey tossing the blade at the target warmed his heart. “I know. But that is where we will turn the tables on him. You are going to become his ally.”
“Hey? I just kicked his arse out of here. He’ll not be trustin’ me now.”
“He would if you believed I was a weak, stinking, double-tongue Reformer.” Gavin held his breath as he watched the workings of Hew’s mind play out on his face. If the crusty old man didn’t help him, then all would truly be lost.
Hew scratched his beard. “Some of that be true, but what’s yer plan?”
A small stream of elation lifted Gavin’s heavy soul. He may have a chance at saving Warring Tower and his sons’ future after all.
* * *
Audrey prayed and fretted all the way back to the tower. Fraser’s injury was little more than a flesh wound. He was ready to leave the following day. Stewart insisted they stay until he was certain they meant no ill to him or John Knox.
In the end, it was Knox that persuaded Stewart to let them leave, not wanting the attention. “The borderlands are the least of our concerns at the moment.”
Audrey didn’t know what he meant, but she was happy their pleasant captivity would end. Three days later, they left Perth. Another day passed when they finally rode through Warring Tower’s gate.
When they entered the hall, they were greeted by Lady Francis sitting cozily next to Hew Armstrong, laughing and whispering like a maid with a young knight.
“What is this?” Fraser asked, letting out a steady stream of air. “Me da looks as if he is laird here.” He scanned the hall. “Where is Warrin’?”
Audrey eyed the grizzly laird with the unkempt beard and wide girth. So, this was Gavin’s
uncle, but where was the laird of the keep? Jaxon sat by the table deep in conversation with Blair. Duncan was serving drink, and Clyde sat in his favorite corner, sleeping. Fear squeezed her heart. Hopefully, Gavin did not ride the marches alone. Surely, he took some moss-troopers with him. But if he didn’t…why would he be so foolhardy? Maxwell would kill him on sight.
“Ah, Mistress Audrey, come here,” Lady Francis called.
With swift steps, she made her way to the matron’s side while Fraser drifted toward Jaxon. “My lady, I am so pleased to find you well.”
“Come.” Lady Francis glanced over to Fraser. “How are things?”
“Fraser is fine. He says soon it will be just another scar.” Audrey watched Jaxon gently tap Fraser’s injured arm.
Hew eagerly sat up, looking toward his sons. Though he did not call Fraser over, Hew’s attention was hawk-eyed on his son’s injury. When satisfied at what he saw, he feigned indifference. “Ack, I’m sure he will have many more scratches before he draws his last breath. How was the journey?”
“We looked over our shoulder the whole way. We could not wait to be home.” Home. When had her thoughts changed? Gavin’s fleeting face skipped through her mind. What nonsense! This was not her home.
“I am glad to hear so,” Lady Francis said. “I am not sure if you have ever been introduced to Jaxon and Fraser’s father. This is Laird Hew Armstrong.”
Audrey dropped into a curtsy. “A pleasure, my laird.”
The older man’s gaze zigzagged over her form. “Now I see why Jaxon is always wanderin’ this way.” He raised a hand and called for another chair. “Sit and tell me, what brings ye to Scotland?”
Lady Francis stiffened at his words, but Audrey had no intention of betraying their confidences. Deftly, she took her seat. “I am a companion to Lady Francis.”
“She came to give me comfort after Edlyn’s death,” the older woman added in a rush.
Hew stroked his beard, there would be no fooling this man. “There was no loss there, the wench barely spoke. One bland look would send Edlyn tremblin’.”
“That is not true. She conversed with Fraser and, of course, Gavin,” Lady Francis corrected. “How would you to know? You rarely stepped foot in this keep.”
“I hear things.” Hew shifted in his chair. “’Twas told yer son ignored her, and Fraser…” Hew assessed his son on the opposite side of the room. “He is kind to all the lasses.”
Audrey begged to give a different opinion. To her, Fraser was cool and apathetic. But instead of voicing her views, a more urgent need pressed on her chest. “Where is Laird Armstrong?”
Hew chuckled. “So ye be worried about him.”
She glanced away. “’Tis I just do not see him about.”
“He will be back soon.” Hew hooded his hazel eyes. “He’s gone to speak to Maxwell.”
Audrey jumped out of her seat. “Maxwell! Why, he will kill Gavin!”
The older laird’s eyebrows pushed upward. “Methinks ye are overly concerned.”
Lady Francis sat up straight. “I share that concern.”
“Ack, I told ye. Maxwell willnae touch a hair on Warrin’s bonnie head once he says his piece.”
“If he is able to speak first.” Lady Francis scowled at Hew.
Just as Audrey sought to argue, a loud howl followed by a boisterous bark filled the hall. Bairn came lumbering over to Audrey’s side, his tongue hanging long from his mouth. She whirled to the entrance.
“Ah, you have returned,” Gavin called from the entry. With meaningful steps, he strode toward them. “Pray tell, did you encounter any troubles?”
Fraser strolled up with a tankard in hand. “Nay. We tried to keep yer name out of it.”
A brief look of friendship passed between them. “I thank thee.”
“Dinnae be thankin’ me.” Fraser tilted his head. “Thank Mistress Audrey. She convinced Stewart and Knox to weave a different tale. One where ye never set foot in Perth.”
Gavin bowed slightly. “I am in your debt.”
He stepped closer to her side. His heady smell of leather and meadow grass caused her knees to quake. She gave a short nod.
“You should sit.” The lines around his mouth softened.
Her heart kicked up tenfold when he offered his hand. Casually she placed her fingers in his palm, trying to play the action down while the other hawks watched on.
“What of it, Warrin’? Did Maxwell take the bait?” Hew asked.
Gavin’s gaze lingered on Audrey, causing her insides to puddle. The sensation did not cease when he addressed his uncle.
“Like a pig to his slop.”
Hew slapped his knee. “I knew he would. The clod cannae see past his own greed.”
“I doubt that had anything to do with it. He would have killed me where I stood had you not spoken to him first.” A conspiratorial look flashed between the two men.
Her curiosity on alert, Audrey calmed her pounding heart. His fingers held hers firm, giving them a tight squeeze. Was Gavin placing himself in danger? Why couldn’t the man hole up in the tower? She pierced him with her gaze.
Gavin cleared his throat. “Perhaps Mistress Audrey would like to rest after her long journey.”
“Nay, I am truly fine. Though a rest might suit me,” she said, trying to please him. Suddenly another query entered her mind. “Where is Thomas? Is he all right?”
Hew grunted. “The lad is fine. Probably hiding out in the chapel again. I swear he is destined for the clergy.”
“Mmm,” Lady Francis studied Audrey. “He has been coming to chapel almost every morn. Surely God has touched his heart.”
Audrey chuckled while Gavin watched her intently. The man was forever measuring every action or word she spoke. Why could he not just accept that she genuinely cared for the boy? “Only time will tell if he has a calling.”
Gavin shook his head. “I do not see the church in his future.” A coolness swept his countenance. “Mistress Audrey, you look pale. I insist you rest. Let me escort you to your chamber.”
Alas, did he mean to place her in prison again? The ungrateful wretch. She pushed his hand away. “I can go on my own accord.” She walked with measured steps to the stairs.
Bairn followed along with his master at his side. “I will see you safely there. The stairs can be slippery. I would not like to see you take a wrong step.”
Wrong step. The man was a mass of muscular contradictions—grateful for her help in Perth, yet suspicious of her motives. Would he never trust her?
Dark circles mooned his eyes, and his shoulders seemed to have shrunk since she last saw him. Gavin Armstrong lived in a world of secrets and distrust. What ate at his soul happened long ago. The only thing she prayed for was the reformation of his heart. For if that did not happen soon, she feared he would be lost forever.
He placed his hand at her back, guiding her along. He bent his head closer to her ear. “Audrey, I need you.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Thomas raced from the chapel and stopped Audrey and Gavin’s ascent. “Mistress Audrey, yer back. Where are ye goin’ now? Jaxon is too tired, and Duncan is too busy to play swords with me.” Though he addressed her, he timidly glanced at his father.
Gavin ran a hand over the boy’s head. “Perhaps later.” An answer Thomas probably heard often.
Audrey knelt down and looked into Thomas’s sad copper eyes. “Your father is very tired. He has had a long trying day and so have I. On the morrow we both will play swords with you.”
The boy’s shoulders drooped. Without looking his father’s way, Thomas trudged off toward Lady Francis, dragging his wooden sword behind him.
Audrey stood. She hated disappointing the child.
Gavin didn’t even look in Thomas’s direction. “After you, mistress.”
Not a single sound did she utter until they were standing in her room. Then she whirled on him like a cat with her claws out. “What is wrong with you? Could you not make the effort to entertai
n your son for a little while? Are you that unfeeling? Many care for you, and you trample on them like they are nothing more than dirt under your feet.”
“Care for me? Pray tell, who are all these people?” He trudged into the chamber, closing the door behind him.
Her arms flailed about as she continued, “Thomas, your mother, and…many more.”
He sat down in the only chair in the room and stretched out his legs as if this was his chamber. “Who are the more?” he asked calmly. A spark of heat glowed in his eyes and sent her heart a tumbling.
Why did he want to know? Did he set a trap so he could keep her locked up for the rest of her life? Fire brewed in her belly as he watched her under heavy blond lashes. His smooth cheeks carried a hint of color, a lock of flaxen hair floated down across his forehead. The desire to brush the hair back drove up her mad.
Her gaze dropped to the floor. “What care you who they are?”
“I dinnae wish to be ungrateful to anyone.”
Her eyes met his, and she whispered, “Except me and Thomas.” She bit down on her lower lip before anymore words betrayed her.
He smiled like he had feasted on a hearty mutton stew. “Ah, Audrey, trust me, I would never take you for granted nor the lad. You made it possible for me to come home to my family. I will never forget your…favor, bravery… I’ve never known a woman like you.”
Her heart flopped at his familiarity and the warmth in his tone. What game did he play now? “Then what do you want from me? I am no longer a threat to you. I mean you no harm. I mean your family no harm. I have grown exceedingly close to your mother and your son Thomas.”
“He’s not my son,” Gavin said, without blinking an eye.
Hurt exploded in her chest. She came and knelt at his side. “Does that matter? Surely at one time you loved his mother. Could you not love him as you had once loved her?”
Gavin threw back his head and laughed. “How can I love a woman I never met?”
The man had truly lost his wits. The urge to make the sign of the cross over her chest was great. What torment brought him to this that he could not see the truth? She should have prayed harder for him. Cautiously, she reached out and placed her fingers on his hand. “Your wife, Edlyn, was Thomas’s mother.”