The Prophecy

by Sakwa, Kim

  The room was suddenly crowded. He stepped into the hall, leaning against the wall beside the door. His body rock-hard as he read, in explicit detail, the events of that day.

  I stood as you entered our chamber, drops of water running down my body. Do you remember how you took each one from me, Greylen? You dried me with your mouth and made me wet again with your hands and your tongue and your body.

  His hands fisted on the page as he walked to the steps, his eyes never veering from the script as he took the stairs.

  You laid me on the floor, and…

  Holy mother of God, she was descriptive.

  You wouldn’t stop, Greylen, not till I lay as a rag doll before you. You were very pleased with yourself. Do you remember?

  Aye he did, ’twas in fact hard to walk at present.

  You took me into your lap, and I took you into my body. You rocked me in your arms. Slow, deep motions till you could take no more. Then you laid me down again. You never left my body…

  He stood inside their chamber, now aglow in candlelight. Daylight shut out behind the closed shutters. His wife sat in the tub before the fire, her back to him.

  “I thought you had a busy day,” she asked without turning.

  “I do have a busy day,” he returned, walking toward her. “It seems you need to be reminded of a few things.”

  “Oh?” She feigned surprise. “Did I forget something?”

  “Aye.” He breathed on her neck. “And this time you’ll not soon forget.”

  He spent the next two hours reminding her of everything he did to her that day.

  He took her to the brink of Eden.

  And gladly went with her.

  Autumn gave way to winter and with the passing months, Greylen threw himself into his duties. With his full strength at last returned, his mornings were spent on the practice fields. Hour upon hour training with his men, oftentimes until he was the only man standing. His afternoons were occupied riding the land, his gaze scrutinizing the horizon in futile hope that Gavin would return.

  On the occasions he wasn’t away from the holding in the afternoon, he withdrew to his study, with his wife. Gwen had begun to oversee many of their household chores, but on their completion, and at his insistence, she spent her time with him there. He felt ’twas imperative that she learned his system of documentation. For in light of her feelings of helplessness when he lay unconscious, he wanted her to feel more involved.

  Gwen was also beginning to understand Gaelic and asked that he read and speak to her only in his native language. She always seemed to throw herself into each task, and in this, she was no different. She’d master it before long. His pride for her only grew.

  On days when the time allowed, he would take her to their chamber before supper. Sometimes they would sit by the fire, while others he carried her straight to bed for a nap. No matter where they sat, however, he always undressed her, his hands roaming possessively over her body. Her stomach was rounded now, and he’d smile when she teased that she now had breasts, real breasts. She was so sensitive, though, he could do little more than brush his knuckles against their fullness.

  She always fell asleep for a short while, sometimes embraced in his arms while he remained clothed. If he felt she wasn’t too tired, he made love to her first, then he’d smile in pure male satisfaction as she instantly succumbed to sleep after their leisurely trysts.

  He truly enjoyed these afternoons. In truth, the pain of Gavin’s absence was only tolerable with his wife in his arms. Life seemed only tolerable with Gwen. He wasn’t sure now how he’d lived without her before.

  She still awoke early, and every morning they walked together before he joined his men. Anna had fashioned a lightweight cloak for her with wide sleeves, as it had already snowed several times. The garment, made to his specifications, allowed her to warm her hands against the cool morning air. And no matter how often he argued that she not go, her answer was always the same. She’d given up running during her pregnancy, but she’d be damned if she didn’t walk. Hard.

  At first, he refused her any form of exercise, but her explanation stopped those arguments cold. Gwen told him that being in better physical shape would help with her labor, thus making her birthing easier. Of course, his fear of something happening to her in childbirth was so terrifying that he made sure she hadn’t missed a single day. On the occasions she was too tired to walk in the morning, he took her after supper.

  Their afternoons, however, were never played with. Rather, they were never played with, until at last, one cold November afternoon, their prayers were finally answered.

  Gwen had just entered his study when shouts were called from the courtyard. Gwen followed him as he walked to the front doors, and as he opened them, Duncan raced up the steps. “Gavin returns,” he cried. “He crossed the border hours ago. He’s but minutes behind.”

  Greylen grabbed his man by the shoulders. “Did you speak to him?” he demanded, his heart pounding with joy.

  “Nay, he rides alone, and his look, one of such seriousness, he only afforded a nod and regal sweep of hand to announce his presence.”

  Greylen turned to his wife, his smile surely reflecting the joy he felt. “Wife, if you wish to greet our friend, fetch your cloak.” She was gone before he finished but back within minutes and standing by his side. He pulled her against him, knowing ’twas he who took comfort from her. Good God, his knees were weak. He squeezed her as his man rode between the gates. His heart pounded as Gavin stopped before nudging his mount forward again.

  Gavin Montgomery of Lincolnshire brought his mount to a halt within the gates of Seagrave. It seemed forever had passed since he’d left this land, the land and family that meant more to him than life itself.

  Each day he was gone, he prayed for Greylen’s life. His relief at hearing that Greylen had indeed recovered was so great he stopped at the first church that he came across. He lit a candle and sat alone in one of the pews where he silently wept.

  During the first two months of his banishment, he’d tracked Malcolm. However, he lost his trail as his brother hid within the forest and later, somehow, secured passage to parts unknown. He couldn’t return to Seagrave and instead went to England, where he stayed with his mother’s family.

  As wonderful as his homecoming had been, ’twas not the home he wanted. Holding on to some ill-begotten hope that one day he would return to Scotland, and refusing to do so as a MacFale, he petitioned his king to recognize his name as Montgomery, the name of his mother. Upon receiving written word of his ruler’s acceptance, he found a sliver of peace. He was no longer tainted with a name that held only bitterness and sorrow. That same missive, however, also commanded he return to Seagrave.

  Gavin took the order seriously, knowing he’d face his death at the hand of the one person he wished more than anything had been his true brother. But he’d meet his fate nobly and with no regret. Greylen had given him years that he had only dreamed of. And, in light of his imminent demise, he decided to pass his lands and monies to Isabelle. Had things been different, they would have been hers anyway.

  He spent the following three weeks documenting the passing of his worldly possessions to Isabelle, securing passage aboard a ship and the long ride home.

  Somewhere along the way, his hope began to build. He heard during his journey MacGreggor ships had been sent to his estates, men in search of the first-in-command of a mighty Highland laird. Then, as he passed through the lands toward Seagrave, he was greeted with only smiles and nods, and a few times, an occasional word that “MacGreggor would at last have peace for Gavin the Brave was back.”

  Gavin finally nudged his mount forward, his eyes on Greylen and Gwendolyn, who awaited his approach. He stopped when he reached the center of the courtyard and dismounted before handing the reins to James. “Sir, ’tis good to have you home again,” the stable master told him with a nod.


  Gavin closed his eyes. Could it be true? Could he possibly be welcomed?

  He looked to Greylen as he began walking. Just to see him alive and well was enough if this was, indeed, to be his end. Those thoughts, however, were soon replaced with something else. Greylen’s look held no disgust and Gwen wore only a smile, squeezing her husband’s hand before Greylen started walking too.

  His commander approached him as never before. His look pained, though not with anger. He looked different to Gavin, older, but not from the gray now in his hair. ’Twasn’t agedness that made him appear so. ’Twas a change within.

  God, how he had missed him.

  Life seemed to repeat itself on that cold November day. This time, however, ’twas Gavin’s knees that buckled, and ’twas he who fell in the courtyard. And ’twas he who would beg forgiveness. Forgiveness for not trusting Greylen with the secrets that ruled his life.

  When Greylen at last stood before him, he stared down with a strained face and misted eyes. His commander’s expression cut like a blade, he’d been such a fool to not confide in him. Greylen closed his eyes and shook his head as he laid a hand upon Gavin’s head. When he removed his hand and opened his eyes again his full composure seemed returned, the words that followed confirmed it. “If you make me kneel upon this ground as my wife and I did so long ago, you’ll have to bed me as well, my friend.”

  A smile tugged at Gavin’s lips as he looked up. “I’ll not be on the receiving end.”

  “Then we, indeed, have a problem.” Greylen laughed, grabbing Gavin’s shoulders. He pulled him up and embraced him. “Why did you leave, Gavin? Why didn’t you return sooner?”

  Gavin wouldn’t release his hold but held his head away just enough to look in Greylen’s eyes. “I would kneel before you now, Greylen, pledge to you my life again.”

  “Nay, Gavin, you’ve never been released from your vow. If I must, I will kneel before you.” Greylen tightened his hold, his voice strained as he fought for control. “You never heard my words, Gavin. I’d not had the chance to speak them. You’ll hear them now.” Greylen never took his eyes from his man, shaking him with each statement. “’Tis I who am your brother. I am your family, Gavin, and there’s not another man I’d have beside me. I swear ’twas those very words Malcolm would have heard that day.”

  “You’d have me back?”

  “I’ve already said you’ve never been released. You’ll never be released.”

  “Then I seek your sister’s hand, Greylen. I’ll be wed to her tonight.”

  “You’ll have more than her hand.” Greylen laughed. “My wife’s threatened to set up a laboratory, whatever that is, and concoct some kind of antidepressant. Again…” He shrugged. “I’ve no idea, but she assures me she’ll come upon something.”

  Gwen started walking forward as they made their way toward the keep. Gavin couldn’t hide his joy at seeing her. Her hair blew softly in the breeze and her cloak opened to the wind as she approached.

  “You should’ve seen her that day, Greylen,” Gavin said, staring at Gwen. “She was amazing.”

  “Aye, Gavin, she is amazing,” Greylen said proudly. Gwen threw her arms around his first-in-command, crying unabashedly as she pulled away. Gavin smiled as he held her face and covered her lips. “Remove your lips from my wife’s face!”

  “Nay, I’ll kiss her again.” And he did, laughing as he pushed Greylen back. “Ah, Gwen, I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too, Gavin.”

  “Enough of your love-play with my wife,” Greylen demanded. “And you, Gwendolyn, for God’s sake hold yourself back!”

  “You’re well, Gwen?” Gavin asked as he held her slightly away. His eyes widened when he noticed her expanding belly and he reached out to cover her stomach. “When?” he asked.

  “Late spring,” she answered with a smile. “You’ll be our child’s godfather, won’t you?”

  “I’d be honored.”

  “You’ve fondled my wife long enough. Now go find Isabelle, she’s most likely crying on a bench behind the keep.”

  Gavin pulled Gwen into another embrace before doing the same to Greylen. Then he ran toward the side of the keep.

  His breath caught when at last he saw Isabelle. She sat on a bench, her back to him as she looked to the sea. She wore a cloak similar to Gwen’s, the hood about her neck, and her blond hair a mass of disarray from the incoming winds.

  He stood behind her and called her name. She must not have believed ’twas him, for she placed her face in her hands and wept. He sat on the bench, his legs bent over the opposite side of hers. “Isabelle?” he said again, placing his hand on her shoulder. She slowly lifted her head, reaching out so cautiously, as if she feared her touch would make him disappear.

  “Gavin, oh, Gavin,” she cried.

  Her hands wrapped around his neck as he held her windburned cheeks. Then he kissed her. She robbed him of his senses, and ’twas long minutes before he pulled away. He wiped at her tears, having to kiss her again before he could speak.

  “We’ll marry tonight, Isabelle. Say you’ll have me, Bella.”

  “I am only yours, Gavin. I’d have no other.”

  Gavin and Isabelle were married that evening, surrounded by family, Anna, and Greylen’s inner circle of men.

  Since they only had hours to prepare, Gwen asked Isabelle if she’d like to borrow her wedding gown. Isabelle happily accepted and Anna worked for the rest of the afternoon, letting out the seams to accommodate Isabelle’s slender but more curvaceous form. Gwen chose a burgundy velvet dress. It fit snugly, revealing the outline of her expanding belly and a fair amount of cleavage. Pregnancy, of course had its perks. The men dressed the same as they had for Greylen and Gwen’s wedding. Beige shirts, black breeches, and tall, polished black boots. Gavin’s shirt was white this time, just as Greylen had worn.

  Greylen gave his sister away in the ceremony performed by Father Michael. Having waited so long to finally be together, Isabelle and Gavin were very serious as they exchanged vows. Cook outdid herself for their evening meal and everyone dined together in the great hall, sitting around the table and toasting to the happy couple.

  Hours later, Greylen’s men excused themselves, followed by Lady Madelyn and then Anna. Greylen looked to Gwen, and after noting the shadows beneath her eyes and saying good night, carried her to their chamber. Left alone, Gavin and Isabelle remained by the fire where they kissed. It seemed forever. But when the keep was at last quiet and kisses were no longer enough, Gavin cradled his wife in his arms and carried her up the stairs.

  He was so gentle as he made love to her for the first time. He held her afterward, loving her tender ministrations as she traced her fingers upon his chest before succumbing to sleep.

  He held tight to his sleeping wife for the rest of the night. He looked to his dagger atop the bed stand, the blade reflecting the fire’s soft glow.

  Gavin the Brave was home at last.

  “Do you think they’re mad, Gwendolyn?” Isabelle asked, her head tilted slightly to the side.

  Gwen snorted, tightening her arms around Isabelle to keep warm. “Mad?” Gwen repeated. “How about demented?”

  Isabelle tilted her head to the other side, considering Gwen’s words. “Aye, you’re right,” Isabelle agreed. “Demented is more the like.”

  It was Christmas morning, and instead of sitting in front of a roaring fire, enjoying a rather good reproduction of eggnog, here they were, sitting on the steps in front of the keep watching the men play football.

  “This is all your fault, you know,” Isabelle said in a soft but accusing tone.

  “My fault?” Gwen returned. “How do you figure?”

  “You taught them how to play,” Isabelle reminded her.

  Gwen sighed. “He told me to be useful.”

  “And you listened to him?” Isabelle asked with a laugh. �
�Good God, Gwendolyn, ’tis one of the most ridiculous things you’ve ever done.”

  “Ridiculous?” Gwen repeated. “You know what ridiculous is, Isabelle?” Gwen asked, pulling away to look at her. “You, wearing that insanely expensive necklace that Gavin gave you.”

  “Do you like it? ’Tis quite beautiful.” Isabelle beamed, fingering the piece.

  “I’ll give you that,” Gwen agreed. “But you still look ridiculous.”

  “You look rather ridiculous yourself.” Isabelle snorted. “You have two medallions around your neck, and the scarf you made for Mother.”

  “So what?” she argued defensively, clutching the medallion Greylen had made her. It was identical to the one she always wore, the one she was still wearing, but this one had a dragon on the front, clasping the torso of his lady as he pulled her from the water. On the back was the same inscription that was inside her wedding band. She had started to ask Greylen what it meant, but the baby chose that exact moment to kick for the first time. She spent the next ten minutes covered by anxious hands as everyone took a turn feeling him move.

  “So what?” Isabelle repeated. “So what? Is that the best you can do?”

  Gwen reached inside Isabelle’s sleeves, pressing her freezing hands against the skin on the backs of her arms. Isabelle shrieked, fighting back as she did the same. Soon they were throwing silly insults at each other, and snow, too, as they tried to shove it down each other’s backs. So caught up in their antics, they didn’t notice Greylen and Gavin standing before the steps now, arms crossed over their chests, regarding them through narrowed eyes.

  “Problem?” the men said at the same time.

  Gwen and her sister-in-law both started talking at once. “Your wife is insufferable,” Isabelle told her brother in gasps as she laughed.

  “And your sister is a big baby,” Gwen blurted out as she laughed too.