by Olivia Rae
A peacefulness washed briefly through Gavin but was quickly replaced by a niggle of doubt. “You did not ask to have Fraser win?”
She concentrated on the butt; a shadow cloaked the side of her face. “Nay, I did not. God knows what is best for all of us, and if that is having Fraser win, then he will. And if he loses the match, then God has another plan.”
If he had a crumb of her faith, then perhaps he would be the laird Warring Tower deserved. Perhaps Edlyn would still be alive. Perhaps he would truly love Thomas as a father should.
But he did not have the faith. He did not believe. No one heard his words. No one recognized his voice. No one answered his prayers. Possibly someone heard Audrey’s.
Instead of taking the first throw, which was his right, Fraser offered the choice to the Maxwells. Immediately Rory ordered his man to take the throw. The lad nodded, setting his position. Aiming straight, the ax left his fingers and struck a sliver to the left of the cloth.
A heavy breath left Gavin’s lungs. To win, Fraser would have to land his ax directly on the mark. If he were focused, this would not be a problem. Trouble was afoot. Instead of taking to the line, Fraser paced, then rubbed the back of his neck, all the while staring out into the yonder field as if he were looking for a ghost.
“What ails him?” Audrey asked.
“I wish I knew.” Gavin searched the crowd. Fraser wasn’t the only one who fidgeted. Hew looked as if he stood next to a grave of a dear friend. Rory Maxwell carried an expression of ease. As if he knew the outcome…
Fraser finally found the line. He reached out his muscular arm. The furrows in his brow melted away. With a warrior’s yell, he hurled the ax. Shouts of joy filled the air. Fraser’s ax struck the middle of the cloth.
Above the cheers a powerful roar of anguish sailed on the wind. “What have ye done?” Hew thundered. “Ye have given away yer birthright. May the devil take ye.” Hew stomped away, leaving most of the Armstrong family flummoxed.
Audrey placed a delicate hand on Gavin’s arm. “What’s happening? I do not understand. Shouldn’t he be cheering his son’s win?”
Gavin quickly scanned the crowd; Maxwell was nowhere to be found. “I think Fraser was supposed to lose the feat.”
“But why? That is foolish. He stands to gain as much as Warring Tower does.”
“Maybe not.” Gavin took her hand in his. “Come. Let us find Fraser.”
They did not have to go far for he was surrounded by a congratulatory crowd. However, he did not look like the victor. He stood as still as his plunged ax while others slapped his back and offered him a celebratory beer.
Gavin and Audrey pushed to his side. The crowd dispersed in search of livelier company. Fraser peered at them through contrite eyes. “Ye get to keep yer tower.” He took a drink and then spat the beer on the ground.
“You were told to lose the feat?” Gavin asked, already knowing the answer.
Fraser wiped his mouth. “Aye.”
“But why?” Audrey gasped. “Why would your father wish you to lose? It makes no sense.”
The present truth stared at Gavin from the past. “Hew made a bargain with Maxwell for a large sum of coin.”
“Enough for him to buy more land from the English. Ye gave him the idea when ye cooked up yer plan.” Fraser hung his head.
“Hew hates the English. Why would he buy their land?” Audrey stood wide-eyed and naïve.
Gavin sighed. She had not listened to a word he had said about lands, borders, and families. He would have to enlighten her once again. “Jaxon will inherit Hew’s lands upon his death. His land is only slightly larger than mine. Not enough to sustain two brothers who wish to have families of their own someday. The land Hew wants is for Fraser. A gift he would give as soon as Truce Day ended.”
Audrey placed a hand on her heart. “Oh, Fraser, you sacrificed yourself to do what is right.”
Gavin wanted to wash away the sadness in her eyes. Somehow through all the intrigue and distrust she had witnessed in her life, she still believed men were basically good and would sacrifice their own needs to save others. He eyed his dejected cousin. “What changed your mind to throw away your future?”
Fraser raised his ghostly gaze to the tower, to Edlyn’s chamber window. “She would have wanted me to.”
It took Gavin a few moments to decipher Fraser’s words. Then the truth came rushing forward. “You speak of Edlyn.”
“Aye.” His head fell back down to his chest.
Guilt slammed into Gavin’s chest. He had always suspected there was someone else that held Edlyn’s heart. Her quiet countenance and daydreaming eyes gave away her thinking. To be honest, he really didn’t care whom she loved until she became pregnant. Then the thought of her bearing another man’s child drove him wild. How dare she find another when he’d forgiven her past indiscretion by giving her first child his name. His wounded pride would not let him see the truth.
The awful past burned in Gavin’s belly. He was the true monster. He threw her out of their chamber, forcing her to sleep with Hetta. To make matters worse, after Marcas was born and Gavin was satisfied the child was his, he did the most unthinkable thing—he taunted her.
The memory of the night of her death tore open the old wound. They had been arguing on the battlements. The eve had been cold and rainy, a perfect omen for what was to happen. His words were ruthless and meant to cut. To hurt her as he believed she had shamed him.
“I dinnae care what you do. Take your first whelp and leave. I will happily pay your lover to take you off my hands. If he will still have you. But my child, Marcas, stays with me.”
She begged and swore that she had never been with another man. Gavin knew her words were true. He had her body, but someone else consumed her heart and soul. Being selfish, he suddenly wanted all of her.
A wash of anguish gushed over Gavin, and his throat clogged. “Edlyn loved you.”
Pain oozed across Fraser’s face when he lifted up his head once again. “She was never unfaithful to ye, though God knows I tried to make her leave ye.” His jaw grew tight, and the veins in his neck bulged. “Ye never appreciated her. Ye treated her like she was a piece of mud caked on the bottom of yer boot.”
Gavin wanted to rip out his own hard heart; Fraser spoke the truth. Only a cruel cretin would have treated his wife in such a way. Though he hadn’t physically pushed Edlyn from the walls above, her death rested heavy in his hands. “You are right. I should have let her go. I killed her.”
Audrey gasped, and Gavin turned away from the hurt in her eyes. He had slain any chance of having a future with her. The word murderer fit him completely.
Fraser dug his hands into his hair. “Nay, ye didnae kill her. I saw all of it. I was there.”
He saw? A coil of self-loathing tightened in Gavin’s stomach. No wonder Fraser had become so distant, he had witnessed every harsh word hurled, every action of indifference. That Fraser didn’t use his sword to run Gavin through was nothing short of a miracle.
“We used to meet near the large meadow where our lands touched English soil. We would just sit and talk about birds, sunsets, or anything that would suit Edlyn’s fancy.” Tears began to trickle down Fraser’s cheeks. “Sometimes we would go fishin’.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “She baited a hook poorly.” Then a coldness swept over him. He glared at Gavin. “But never was she unfaithful to ye. She widnae even let me steal a kiss.”
Gavin laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder, hoping the man would slug him in the face. “I am sorry.” Tears stung Gavin’s eyes. “I unjustly hurt her and not a day goes by that I dinnae regret what I did.”
“Ye didnae see it, but I did. Ye left her there. Alone,” Fraser choked out his memory.
He had. Gavin had gone back into his chamber, slamming the door behind him. He left Edlyn at the top of the tower, the rain mixing with her own tears. How could he have been so evil? He swiped the moisture from his eyes.
“I saw her crawl up. Standin’ t
here, the storm peltin’ her beautiful face. I tried to get to her, but I slipped in the mud.” Fraser raised a fist and banged it against his head. “She saw me lyin’ there, and then she said”—his voice choked with fresh tears—“she said, ‘My love, I’m comin’.’” He shook his head. “Then she jumped and landed right in front of me. There was nothin’ I could do.”
“Forgive me, Fraser. You dinnae need to—”
“The scream everyone thought was Edlyn’s was really mine. Instead of stayin’ by her, I got scared and ran like a coward. I went and hid near the stable.”
Gavin remembered the hoarse cry that tore away his soul and tore away his faith in God. He had rushed back to where he had left Edlyn and peered over the edge, seeing her lying there, her neck twisted and bent.
“When Lady Francis come out and she saw ye standin’ up there, she made up that foolish tale of Edlyn jumpin’ from Hetta’s chamber. I saw the anguish in yer ma’s eyes, she believed ye killed Edlyn, and I did nothin’ to change her thinkin’.”
Nor had Gavin. He knew what his mother believed, and he did not try to enlighten her. In truth, he relished in her sorrow and disappointment. It was another way of punishing himself for his cruelty to his wife. He had taken Edlyn from her love, so why not sacrifice his mother’s love for him? It only seemed fair.
Gavin scanned the field. Where was his mother? He had not seen her since early morn. No doubt, she was busy with feast preparations.
“I am sorry, Gavin. I should have told all what happened,” Fraser whispered.
This time, Gavin embraced him and would not let go. “You have nothing to apologize for. Though I didnae push her off the wall, I am guilty of Edlyn’s death. Will you ever forgive me?”
Fraser raised his remorseful eyes and held Gavin’s wretched gaze. “We both are at fault. Me for pesterin’ her to leave with me and ye for not lovin’ her. We both brought sadness to her heart. And bein’ a gentle soul, the pain was too great. Now in death, I cannae cause her pain. I couldnae have a hand in ye losin’ yer lands. It belongs to her sons.”
Gavin nodded. “Edlyn will always live on in her sons. You have my word I will protect them with my life.”
“I have one more confession.” Fraser scraped his hand across his wrinkled brow. “Me da gave me somethin’ to put in Duncan’s food last eve so he widnae be able to run in the footrace. I am sorry. It just took me awhile to see things straight.”
Gavin had suspected as much, though he believed Maxwell was responsible for the nefarious deed. “Worry not. I am sure he will recover.”
“My laird, my laird. A word with ye,” Blair called from behind.
Gavin rose to his feet and swung around. “What is it?”
Blair twisted and churned her raw hands in distress. “I cannae find Thomas. He took off when the footrace started. He wanted to run along with the runners a bit. But after the race was over, I couldnae find him anywhere. I searched by the butts, the hall, the courtyards, and in all the tents. I searched all the chamber rooms, the stables, the kitchen, and even the garderobe. He’s nowhere, my laird. Thomas is gone.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
The strong empty hollowness Gavin had felt so often lately swept through his body and soul. He scanned the fields around him. The festivities had already begun. Men and women alike sang and danced while waving mugs of small beer and ale in the air. Soon some of the laughter and merriment would turn sour and fights would break out among the revelry. This was not the place for a young lad to be left alone. Surely Thomas was hiding somewhere.
“I told you to watch him,” Gavin snapped at Blair.
The woman blanched and ducked her head as if she had been slapped.
Audrey’s soft hand touched his shoulder. “Yelling at her will not help us find Thomas.”
He wanted to hold and squeeze her hand forever, hoping to squash the fear building inside of him. She was right. Blaming Bair solved nothing. “I’m sorry. Thomas is a strong-willed lad. Even with me, he will go where he chooses.”
Blair wiped away her tears. “I searched everywhere. ’Tis like he vanished, like a ghost.”
Thomas had become artful in sneaking about, taking a bauble here and there. Being silent like a delicate breeze so as not to be seen or heard. Gavin wanted to yank his hair out. He had no one to blame but himself. How often had he stormed about the keep shouting at Thomas for making a ruckus? That the lad had chosen not to be seen now wasn’t a big surprise.
“I shall help ye look for the lad.” Fraser rose to his feet. “Blair and I will search the tower again.”
Gavin nodded, humbled by the help of a friend he did not deserve. “Find my mother, perhaps the lad is with her. I will call the servants to search the grounds and pavilions. He cannae have gone far.”
Audrey’s hand slipped from his shoulder. “I think I know where he is.”
The brightness in her eyes gave Gavin hope. “Where? I shall go with you.”
Quickly he instructed his servants and was further warmed by those of other families that wished to help. Calls for Thomas rang out from the multitudes, echoing across the landscape as Audrey and Gavin slipped into the countryside.
She took his hand and led him through the tall grass. “Thomas has a secret hiding spot where he keeps all the treasures he has taken or found. It is his place of refuge.”
In such a short time, Audrey had gained the lad’s trust and knew his habits. To Gavin, the lad remained mostly a stranger. Only a pathetic parent would know so little about his own child.
“He might be there. He was awfully upset you would not let him run in the race,” she said hopefully.
They stopped along the water’s edge near a field of boulders. There was no sign of Thomas. Every spot that Audrey claimed held a treasure had been undisturbed for some time. ’Twas apparent the lad had not been there.
Bewilderment filled her face. “Where could he be?”
Where had Thomas gone? The rest of the afternoon and into the evening everyone continued the search. Exhaustion gave way, and many lay down and took their rest, but not Gavin. He rode the marches all night long and did not stop until the black night faded into the golden rays of morning.
Shoulders slumped, he jerked back and forth on his mount. Defeat plagued his soul, and his hope of finding Thomas plummeted. For years he had been pushing the lad away. And for what purpose? The truth Gavin had been trying to erase whispered in his ears—because you didn’t want to love the lad. But he had failed, for his love for Thomas was deep. The love lived in his mind, heart, and soul. And there lay the problem. Gavin could not find his son to tell him.
Far from the tower, Gavin slipped off his horse and fell to his knees. He folded his hands and wept. Then he did something he had not done since before Edlyn’s death, he raised his tear-soaked eyes to the heavens.
“Dear Lord, though I denied your presence, I know you are there. I know I have put my own will above yours. I am heartily sorry for doing so. I am sorry for the way I have treated others. Forgive me, Lord. I know I havenae always been a good father. I have often thought to discard one son in favor of another son, but I beg you, please help me find Thomas. Let me know that he is well. I know with you all things are possible. I place his and my future in your hands. Amen.”
A rush of peace momentarily pushed away his despair and filled the emptiness in his chest. Now all was left up to God. On foot, Gavin led his tired horse back to the tower. He had barely crossed the entry when Audrey and Fraser came running toward him.
“We were worried something happened to you.” In her hand she clutched a missive. “This came for you while you were out searching.”
Her hand shook as she held out the parchment. Gavin didn’t have to read the words to know what was in them. “Who has him?”
“Maxwell and he wants you to honor the terms of your last agreement or he will deliver Thomas to Mary de Guise.”
So Hetta had told Maxwell about Thomas’s parentage. There was naught for him
to do but comply and pray that his son would be returned once he gave up Warring Tower.
Fraser scratched his head. “I think Maxwell has a crack in his head, for why would he take Thomas to Mary de Guise? What would the dowager queen want with the lad?”
Gavin cast a glance at Audrey before crumpling the missive in his hand. Sooner or later the truth would come out. If Queen Elizabeth was truly married and Thomas was the legitimate heir to the English throne, then Queen Elizabeth would do anything to ensure his safety. Even form an army to take control of Scotland.
“It matters not his reasoning. I am turning over the tower to get Thomas back.” Gavin started walking toward the stable.
Fraser reached out and grabbed Gavin’s arm. “There is one more thing,” he whispered. “Yer mother is missin’.”
“No one has seen her since yesterday morn,’” Audrey continued.
Now he remembered. She had not been seen since the archery feat. At the time Gavin thought someone else had fallen ill and sought his mother’s healing skills. Or that she was preparing for the later festivities. Had she been kidnapped too? The ransom note didn’t mention her.
A slither of apprehension weaved through Gavin’s gut. Could Hew have her? After all, he had made a bargain with Maxwell. But if they had Thomas, why would they need his mother?
Gavin played the events of the past few weeks over and over in his head. His mother had been exceptionally friendly with Hew when he was here. And had not Rory specifically ordered Ualan and Ewart not to harm his mother when he went to the papist meeting? An unbearable idea slithered through his brain like a serpent in search of its prey. Could his mother be in league with his uncle and Maxwell?
His chest squeezed with loss. Would no one stand by his side? And why should they? Had he not nettled and chastised his mother for her English ways and her coddling of Thomas? Had he not stomped around Warring Tower shouting at anyone who would not do his bidding? Had he not pushed away all those who ever cared about him?