by Sakwa, Kim
“Don’t remind me, you brute.”
“Gwendolyn, you know I’ll remind you every day for the rest of your life, and quite gladly, I might add.”
“God help me,” she pleaded to the ceiling, “I’m stuck with an egomaniac.”
Greylen laughed at his wife’s display. “You’re the most pleasing wench, wife.”
She poked his chest. “Gangly boy, bag of bones, and wench. Why I find your charm so irresistible, I’ll never know.”
“Fine,” he relented, releasing her hands. “Have your way, you always do.”
“Ha! My way? I never get my way.”
“I’d beg to differ, love. However, you do hold the shears.”
Gwen removed his stitches, pleased with the results after inspecting her work. “Come on,” she said, pulling him up from the chair. “I promised you could leave our chamber when they were removed, so let’s go outside.”
“I’ll take you for a walk,” he said. “We’ve had little time for such pleasures.”
Hand in hand, they walked to the door where Greylen paused before reaching for the latch. He turned, his expression serious. “Although these few weeks were spent here because of my recovery, they’re times I’d trade for nothing. I love you more than anything, Gwen, you know that, don’t you?”
“Oh God, you think I’m suicidal again.”
“Nay,” he began, tilting her face, “I only wish for you to know what I feel. Your lapse in judgment will never happen again,” he ordered, squeezing her chin. “I’ll always keep you safe, Gwen. I’ll always be there for you. You must always believe it.”
Greylen sat within his study, waiting for the elder MacFale. The man’s ailing health had kept him from their original meeting but now, six weeks later, Greylen would at last have some answers. Gwen had been terrified he would go to the MacFale holding himself, and rather than cause her any more stress, he agreed to remain here until the man could take the journey.
Finally hearing riders approach, Greylen went to the front doors. His men had provided escort and he took the steps, greeting the old man as he began ascending the stairs. The man looked up in surprise as Greylen took his elbow and helped him.
“Until we’ve spoken, I’ll not pass judgment,” Greylen stated respectfully.
“You’re a good man, MacGreggor. I see why Gavin aligned himself with you.”
Lady Madelyn stood to the side as they passed through the entrance. “Guy, welcome to our home.”
“Madelyn, you look well. ’Tis been too many years since we’ve last seen each other.”
Greylen’s mother said no more but followed them into the study. She sat on the settee while Greylen and MacFale took their seats, Greylen behind his desk and the elder MacFale in front.
“I have many questions and my hope is that you’ll shed some light on Gavin’s actions.”
“I’ll answer your questions,” the man replied quickly. “I want nothing more than my son’s happiness.”
Lady Madelyn made a sound of disgust. Greylen raised a brow at her interruption.
He had never seen his mother angry before, truly angry. Yet the look on her face was revealing. “Speak, Mother.” ’Twas obvious she needed no further prodding.
“I’ve sat back far too long, Guy,” she said with barely contained fury. “You cast him aside and your wife as well. How could you do such a thing?” she accused.
“I tried to make amends,” he pleaded. “I was foolish, blinded. Had I known the evil in Malcolm, I would have prevented his actions. They were merely boys, Madelyn. How could I know?”
“She tried to tell you. Allison pleaded with you. Yet all you could see was her defiance. You had your heir and you cast her aside.”
Greylen remained quiet, learning far more from their exchange than he’d ever hoped.
“What would you have me do? I can’t change my actions. She was so much younger than I. ’Twas easier to turn her away than accept what she offered.”
“She offered you love. She offered you peace. And in return you betrayed her and let her leave. You should have never begged her to come back.”
“I realized my mistakes, Madelyn. I wanted my wife back. I wanted to get to know my son. I needed help with Malcolm.”
“I warned her never to return. She knew there was something wrong with him. I thank God she and Gavin had ten peaceful years away from you.”
“May I interrupt?” Greylen asked as his mother and Gavin’s father stared in silence.
“Aye.” ’Twas a shout from them both.
“Mother, I never knew you were friendly with the MacFales,” he remarked.
“I was a friend only to Allison. Your father and Guy never got along. You must’ve realized that from the few occasions he’d taken you there, Greylen. But Allison and I shared a friendship. We met along the border each week, and as young boys, you and Gavin played together.”
Greylen’s shock quickly turned to anger. “You’ve known all along who he was?” he accused. “Where he came from?” Good God, he wanted to throttle her.
“He left when he was five, Greylen,” she justified quickly. “You were both too young to remember each other when you met again. Almost fifteen years had passed.” She paused for a moment before looking at him again. “I’ll never forget that day you brought him home,” she said, shaking her head. “I was speechless, Greylen. Seeing the two of you together. ’Twas as though you’d never been apart.”
“Why did you not say anything?” There was a quality of incredulousness in his voice. In truth, he felt like a boy begging answers.
“You’ve not heard the entire story, Greylen,” she remarked sadly. “I remained silent for Gavin’s sake. It must have pained him terribly to live so close to the home he ran from,” she said directly to Guy, who sighed before finishing the tragic story.
“Allison left me when the boys were five,” he began. “She would’ve taken them both, but I insisted that Malcolm stay with me. Gavin was far too quiet for my liking. The boy’s eyes left me unsettled. I should’ve known the depth of his perception then, his controlled contempt. ’Twas that with which he looked to me, condemning my actions even at such a young age. You see, I treated his mother unfairly. Though Malcolm caused only trouble, I saw it as strength instead,” he said regretfully. “Allison tried to give Malcolm love, but he hated her. She and Gavin shared a closeness, and Malcolm turned to me.
“I wrote to her over the years, begging her to return. I wanted to know my other son. He was the first to come from Allison’s womb. My true heir. And at fifteen, Malcolm was showing signs of evil. I needed help.”
“Then, they did return?” Greylen asked.
“Aye,” MacFale stated, looking to Greylen, his eyes filled with pain. Greylen stood and poured a brandy, handing the snifter to the man who clearly needed a drink. MacFale drained the contents and met Greylen’s stare as he finished.
“They came home for ten days—ten days of hell for both of them. Malcolm acted ever the gentleman, but I saw the looks he exchanged with Gavin. I saw the hate he cast to his mother, but I never imagined the extent of it. I’d been in my study, stirred by a cry of alarm from the hall. When I reached Gavin, he was cradling his mother’s head in his lap, tears running from his eyes. He said she’d been pushed from above, knowing ’twas Malcolm who did so, but he’d only seen a shadow. I couldn’t believe Malcolm had done such a thing. I didn’t want to believe he’d done such a thing.
“I told Gavin he was wrong, that he had no proof. Then I watched Allison use her remaining strength to stroke her son’s cheek and whisper her love to him. Gavin, my boy of only fifteen carried his mother from the keep, swearing never to return. In the same breath, he vowed to avenge his mother’s murder. Too late, I realized what a fool I’d been. We could have raised them together,” he cried in regret. “Mayhap then none of this would’ve happened.
But, in truth, it had been easier to let her go when she asked. Her love scared me, and I turned to others instead.”
“Where did Gavin go?” Greylen asked.
“To his mother’s family. ’Tis where they lived for years. Lincolnshire, England. I wrote to Gavin repeatedly throughout the years, begging his forgiveness. I deeded all the lands that came with my marriage to him. Set coin in his name so he could live.” He shook his head. “He never used it…none of it. His mother’s family paid for his education at the university, and when he joined in service for our king, he used his spoils to repay them. He’s wealthier now than I ever was, and of his honor, I could not be prouder.”
“I’ll have the whereabouts of those estates,” Greylen said, reaching for parchment and a quill. “My captain will sail immediately.”
“Have you heard anything from him?” the elder MacFale asked.
“Nay. We know he’s tried to track Malcolm,” he explained. “It seems Malcolm and his men hide in the lowlands. We’ve received word, however, that Gavin’s set a price on his head. It’s so significant, ’tis a wonder Malcolm’s not been captured.”
“Bring my son home, MacGreggor, if not to me then here. You gave him more than I ever could.”
“If you’ve word from Malcolm?” Greylen asked.
“I’ll turn him over. Though he’ll probably kill me first.”
Greylen stayed within his study long after Guy MacFale left. His ship’s captain had his orders, and Duncan and Hugh sailed with him. His mother had seemed exhausted after their discussion and, truthfully, he was still in a state of shock that she’d known about Gavin all along. He smiled as he remembered her parting words, just hours ago.
“You and Gavin would run along the hills, Greylen. ’Twas your imperiled kingdom you’d both commanded proudly, puffing your little chests out. You both fought so valiantly to protect it. ’Tis a sweetness I’ve always remembered, especially to have watched you do so together as men. Allison would be pleased to know how close you’ve become.”
His thoughts were interrupted as Gwen stood in the open doorway. He gave her a smile. “Come. Sit on my lap, sweet.”
“I’ve come to trim your hair, my laird,” she teased.
Greylen loved that her playfulness was back, but what pleased him more was that she seemed to glow these past weeks. He filled her in on his conversation, rubbing away the line of worry that crossed her forehead as she sat on his lap. “He’ll be home soon, Gwen,” he assured her, “hopefully in but a month’s time.”
“I hope you’re right, Greylen. Isabelle’s so hard to keep company. I swear if I had some Prozac, I’d add it to her tea every morning. And your hair.” She sighed, running her fingers through it. “Well, your hair becomes grayer with each day that passes.”
“I fear you’re right,” he agreed. “Does my appearance bother you, love?”
Gwen could only stare at him. Greylen had never been more appealing and that was saying a lot. His face was more sculpted now, his looks more penetrating, and his hair made her want to jump him all the time. He had enticing gray streaks now, not many, but in contrast to his black hair and bronzed skin—jeez, the man was hot.
“Greylen, I…I—You—well—” Her face was flaming as she backed away.
He laughed, pulling her against him. “For someone
with all your intelligence, I find your stammering enchanting.”
He muffled her embarrassment with a kiss and carried her upstairs. He sat patiently on a chair in their bathing chamber as she poured water over his head before trimming his hair. She knew he loved the way she rubbed her fingers into his scalp in a deep massage, careful of the scar along the back of his head.
“Do mine now, please,” she instructed as she held the shears before him.
“Are you daft? I’ll not cut your hair.” He reached out, brushing his fingers through her hair.
“Please, it bothers me,” she asked again.
“You ask much. What would you give me in return?”
“I’ll let you in on a secret.”
“You’ve no secrets from me, Gwen. You’re completely guileless.”
Her mouth fell open at what sounded like an insult. “Thanks.”
“Very well,” he conceded. “I’ll cut your gorgeous locks. Then I’ll reveal your secret myself.” Greylen carefully trimmed the ends of her hair, then finally relented and cut it to rest between her shoulder blades as she’d asked.
“Well, great master, in your most arrogant, pigheaded, overlord way, tell me, what’s my secret?”
“If you insist on playing games, you’ll lose,” he said, pulling her against him.
“Oh, I’ll not lose, husband,” she assured him.
“I can taste your defeat,” he growled, fisting her hair in his hand and bringing her face close to his. “Tell me again the names you carelessly flaunt,” he demanded.
“Master.” She breathed against his lips. “Arrogant.” She breathed again, this time rewarded with a slow, sensual kiss he ended with a gentle scrape.
“You’ve not finished, love,” he prompted, tightening his grip enough to make her gasp.
“I said you were pigheaded.” She whimpered in anticipation, her own hands bringing him closer.
“You’ve cried off the most important, wife,” he accused, lowering her to the floor. “Now tell me,” he hissed. “Who am I?”
“You are my very own overlord,” she said at last, their conversation forgotten as her husband won the battle she started.
The battle she had purposely started.
Gwen stood just beyond the door of her husband’s study. She paced back and forth, wringing her hands. Greylen had been right; she sucked at keeping secrets. She wanted to tell him what she’d been hiding, but she couldn’t seem to get the man alone. He and his men were sitting around the table, crossing off dates on a piece of paper, and laughing as they called out dibs on future ones. She listened for a few more minutes.
Crap! They were laughing at her.
“What’s this?” Gwen asked, stepping into the room.
Greylen sighed, sitting back in his chair as he looked to the door. He picked up the paper and held it before him. “This is a calendar, Gwendolyn,” he explained like he was speaking to a two-year-old. “It’s a sequence of numbers we call weeks, which comprise another sequence of numbers called months, which in turn leads us to yet another sequence of numbers which comprise a ye—”
“I know what a frigging calendar is!”
“Then why did you ask?” Her husband looked as though he was having trouble keeping a straight face.
Gwen’s hands fisted. “I’ll ask you again—what are you doing?”
“We’re marking days, love,” he answered in obvious exasperation before he continued. “It’s usually what one does when working with a calendar.”
“You’re betting on something,” she said through clenched teeth, his smug tone infuriating her. “And I want to know what.”
“Betting?” he asked innocently.
Her eyes narrowed. “Betting, you imbecile. Now answer me.” He remained silent, so she marched to the table and yanked the paper from his hand. Their names were scrawled over each of the days, amounts of coins written beneath them and doubling as the days progressed. She looked at Kevin, snorting in disgust as she shook her head. He lied easily, then she realized she was completely screwed. Every frigging one of them lied easily. Resigned, she picked Ian, the lesser of seven evils. “Ian, what’s this about?” she demanded.
Ian turned beet red, looking to Greylen for help. Her husband remained silent. “They’re days we’ve chosen, lady.”
“Thank you, Ian,” she ground out through her teeth. “I never would have guessed. What does it mean?”
“Gwen, come now, love—”
“Don’t ‘Gwen, come now, love’ me,” sh
e snapped.
Greylen scoffed, waving his hand over the paper. “’Tis just a simple wager.”
“A simple wager on what?” she asked again.
Greylen held her stare, then finally grumbled under his breath, “On when you would tell us you’re with child.”
“Ahhh.” Her mouth dropped open. She could tell they were holding laughter back and it took her a good full minute before she regained her control. “Greylen, can I speak with you for a moment?” she asked sweetly.
He rolled his eyes. “Like I’d fall for that again?”
“But it’s important,” she pressed. “It’s about the baby.”
“I’ve a busy day,” he stated emphatically. “I’ve not time for games, wife.”
“Oh, very well.” She sighed. Then she left the room.
“You, my friend, are in trouble,” Duncan said, clasping Greylen’s shoulders as he stood behind him.
“Nay, she left easily enough,” Greylen reasoned. Then realized she left too easily. He kept waiting for her to come back, but when she didn’t, he assumed he escaped her wrath, for now. He couldn’t hide his thoughts from his men. “She’ll seek her revenge, but later.”
Later, however, wasn’t long. They were still in the study when Isabelle came in and handed Greylen a missive. “One of the border patrols just delivered this, Greylen,” she said, handing it to him. “He said ’twas important.”
Greylen took the missive and opened it immediately, hoping ’twas information on Gavin. The seal was illegible but when he spread the parchment, he recognized the script. Clever wench. He knew he shouldn’t read it, he couldn’t help himself.
Greylen,
I just wanted to tell you how much this baby means to me.
His heart warmed at her words and he continued.
I also wanted you to know when our baby was conceived. It was the day of the storm, the day you stayed in the study with your men, the day I waited for you in the tub by the fire…