“What was that for?” he wheezed when he could finally speak.
“You know.”
“Well, someone had to bring you back down to earth, Garrick,” he replied, straightening slowly. “How does making googly eyes at a pretty lass and then kissing her senseless help our mission again?”
Garrick gritted his teeth. Unfortunately, Burke had a point. “She seems somewhat sympathetic to the Scottish cause. I was hoping to learn whether or not she had heard of any seeds of rebellion within the village.” That was close enough to the truth. Burke didn’t need to know that Garrick hadn’t felt this drawn to a lass since—well, ever.
“We should likely only stay a day or two longer. I heard from the baker this morning that there are rumors that Longshanks is ill.”
Garrick sobered suddenly, his anger at Burke and his desire for Jossalyn pushed aside at such serious news. “Those rumors have been floating around for months. What makes them different this time?”
“Apparently Warren isn’t the only one in Cumberland. Several of the aristocracy have gathered there and are said to be attending Edward’s bedside.”
This could be it then, the true start or end to the wars for Scottish independence, once and for all. Edward wasn’t called the “Hammer of the Scots” for nothing—he had made it his personal mission to eradicate not only Scottish culture and sovereignty, but the very people themselves. His death could either be the rallying call for the entire English army, or it could be the swan song of English efforts to control Scotland.
“I have to get to the Bruce,” Garrick said softly. He needed to report to his King, and prepare for the fallout from Edward’s illness and possible death.
“We need to get to your brother, remember?” Burke said just as softly. “He is our Laird, and he is the one who sent us on this mission.”
“My brother and the Bruce both sent me here, and the Bruce is our King.”
“We can decide on the way north, but either way, we should be going soon.”
Garrick ran a hand through his hair. “Aye, you’re right.”
“Tomorrow evening.” Burke said simply. Garrick shot him a look, but Burke had an apologetic expression on his face. “That way you’ll at least get to say goodbye to the lass.”
“Aye. Thank you for that.”
Burke nodded and moved into the smithy to continue his work. Garrick was left standing in the yard by himself, contemplating how to say goodbye.
Chapter Eight
Jossalyn was being vain. But she wanted her hair to be just right today. She had selected her brightest green dress, the one she knew brought out her eyes to their best effect. Now it was just a matter of taming her blonde locks into the intricate plaiting pattern she used for special occasions.
She had barely been able to sleep last night, but it wasn’t just because her mind had tumbled relentlessly over her kiss with Garrick.
Her first kiss. Yes, she had pecked a few stable lads on the lips when she had been a girl, but she had never experienced a real adult kiss between a man and a woman. It wasn’t at all what she thought it would be like. She had seen others kiss, but never with their tongues involved, and besides, seeing someone else was entirely different that experiencing the rush of sensation for herself.
Despite the long and sleepless night that had stretched since that kiss, she could still perfectly remember the soft heat of his mouth, his firm hands on her waist and hips—and something else that was also quite firm in his lap. She blushed for the umpteenth time at the thought, and at the memory of Burke’s knowing smile when he had barged in on them.
Pushing her embarrassment aside, she tightened the green ribbon on the end of her plaited hair. She had more important things to think about now than her girlish blushes and that wondrous kiss.
She was going to escape—her brother, the castle, some grandfatherly husband, everything.
She didn’t know how yet, but she would. Something about yesterday had caused a shift inside her. She could no longer live under the thumb of her brother, stifled and useless behind the walls of Dunbraes Castle. She had felt stuck for so long, unable to live as she wished, but unable to do anything about it either. She had bought into her brother’s manipulation, thinking that things must be as he wished them to be. But now, she suddenly saw a new door cracking open, revealing a future of her choosing.
Certainly, Garrick’s sudden entrance into her life had facilitated this, but she wasn’t pinning all her hopes on him to rescue her. That was why she had insisted that they act as friends for the remainder of his time in the village. She still barely knew him, and both he and his cousin would likely be leaving the village soon anyway. It would be naïve at best, and dangerous at worst, to continue allowing their passion to overwhelm them. Soon, he would be gone, and if she weren’t careful to separate her feelings for him from her desire for freedom, she could end up at the whims of fate yet again, instead of in control of her future.
But she had to admit, he had awakened something in her, shown her what life could be like if she were in charge of it. She could live in a place where her healing skills were valued, where people cared for her, where, perhaps, she could even be loved for who she was. He had shown her what passion was, and she wanted more.
So she would leave and start life over someplace new. Just the thought sent shivers of excitement and anticipation coursing through her. Suddenly she had a brighter future, even though the path to get to it was still unknown.
This newfound energy and confidence surged through her as she made her way toward the village. She would make her rounds to check on her patients, and then swing by the smithy to see how Garrick’s shoulder and John’s hip were doing. By the time she got back to the castle that evening, Gordon would likely be taking his first solid food in several days. She wouldn’t have many more days like this, sneaking to the village and dodging her brother’s lackey.
Before yesterday, she would have felt deep grief for the ending of this brief reprieve from her older brother’s control. Now, she welcomed the end of the need to hide and lie about what she was doing. Soon enough, once she worked out the details, she would no longer have to risk punishment for doing what she loved.
Her joy must have been evident, for everyone she passed as she moved about the village smiled back at her, some even commenting on the beautiful summer day or how hale and hearty she was looking. She breezed through her visits as if she were the warm summer wind itself. By late afternoon, she had finished all her house calls and errands and headed toward the smithy.
She approached from the alley again, but no one was working there this time, so she went to the back door and knocked lightly before entering.
Instantly, she felt like she was intruding on something private and important, and her good mood faltered for a fraction of a second. Burke and Garrick were sitting across from one another at one of John’s large tables, both leaning on their elbows with their heads close together. Both heads whipped around when she entered, and their eyes, Burke’s dark blue and Garrick’s steel gray, bore into her with intensity.
“I’m sorry. I was just stopping by to check…Where is John?”
Burke seemed to recover first and transformed smoothly into the jovial, chivalric man he always was around her. “Ah, mistress Jossalyn, what a pleasant surprise! John has gone out again, but he should be back later this evening. Is there anything we can do for you in the meantime?”
Her eyes moved between the two men. She could feel a slight crease forming between her brows. “Is something wrong?”
“No, of course not, my lady! It is just that…” Burke shifted his eyes to Garrick and waited, an expectant look on his face.
Finally, Garrick broke the silence. “We leave this evening,” he said flatly.
“Oh, so…so soon?” She sounded small and deflated even to her own ears.
“Yes, John is all caught up with his work and is feeling much better now. Besides, we got word that our uncle may be ailing. Nothin
g serious, I’m sure, but we will be headed north tonight,” Burke said, not a crack showing in his veneer.
“Yes, of course,” she said vaguely, her eyes drifting around the room, looking at the ceiling, the floor—anywhere but at Garrick. She could feel his intense gaze on her, nevertheless.
“I wish you both a safe journey,” she said, suddenly anxious to get out of the too-warm smithy. She spun around quickly and exited through the door. Before she had gone three steps, however, she felt a large hand wrap around her upper arm, gently pulling her to a halt.
“Jossalyn…” Garrick swam in her vision as tears welled in her eyes.
“No, no, it’s all right,” she said airily with a wave of her hand. “I knew you were leaving. I just thought…that perhaps we would have a few more days to spend together…as friends.”
Who was she kidding? Certainly not herself. She could never be friends with this man. She was friends with John and Laura from the village, and had been friends with Meg and Vera, her old teachers in the arts of healing. But Garrick was different. She didn’t have friendly feelings toward him—she longed for him, dreamed of his kiss, felt her stomach flip every time she saw him or drew near to his large, muscular frame.
“I don’t want to be your friend, lass,” he said quietly.
Her heart jumped at his words, for his meaning was apparent. Could he feel the same way that she did?
But then he went on. “But…I have to go. I am duty-and honor-bound to return to my home and take up the work I was born to do.” A dark shadow settled over his face, and for some reason, he seemed to be speaking about more than his job as a blacksmith, but Jossalyn didn’t know why. All she could do was nod, for she didn’t trust her voice not to break.
Ever so gently, he took her hand into his much larger one and raised it slowly to his lips. He placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand, and it felt like a hot brand.
She couldn’t take it. She was going to crack to pieces right here if she had to say goodbye to him like this. Without thinking, she pulled her hand free of his grasp and away from his lips, then turned and ran back up the alley. She no longer cared that tears streamed freely down her cheeks.
Garrick watched her go with a stone wedged in his chest. His feet longed to give chase, but his head kept him rooted in place. This was how it had to be. She was just one lass, and he had a job to do. What did the feelings of two people matter when it came to the fate of an entire nation?
He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to get the image of Jossalyn’s emerald-green eyes, which had shimmered with tears, out of his head. He had a feeling no matter how many times he rubbed his face, the lass would stay with him long after this war was decided once and for all.
Forcing himself to turn back to the smithy, he caught Burke watching him from the doorway. His cousin didn’t bother offering condolences or try to lighten the mood. Instead, he gave him a slight but resolute nod, waiting for Garrick’s word.
“Let us prepare. We move tonight.”
Chapter Nine
It would have to be tonight, then, Jossalyn thought as she opened the wooden door to her armoire. She had indulged in enough tears throughout the late afternoon and evening, bolting her chamber door and refusing to join the rest of the castle in the evening meal. Now, it was time to clear her head and make a plan.
She had already decided to escape Dunbraes sometime in the near future, but she hadn’t anticipated that it would be quite so soon. But she couldn’t deny that this was as good a time as any—better, probably, since her brother was still away and Gordon hadn’t fully recovered yet from her dose of laxative tea. She wouldn’t be watched from the castle. The only problem that had remained was how to put enough distance between herself and Dunbraes so that she wouldn’t be traceable.
Garrick and Burke provided the solution, but she had to move—now. They were heading north, far enough that it would take at least a full day’s worth of travelling, if she remembered their vague comments about their village right. And they had a large wagon with a loose canvas covering to protect their minimal personal effects.
Now, the only thing she needed to do was pack, sneak back out of the castle, find their wagon, stow away inside of it, and spend the long night ahead bumping and jostling toward freedom. It would be easy enough…wouldn’t it?
When she ran through all the steps mentally, and all the things that would have to go right, she nearly gave up. If anyone in the castle, especially Gordon, spotted her leaving, they would send several guards after her—for “protection,” they would say.
And what if Garrick and Burke had removed their canvas covering or filled the wagon with supplies? Or what if they discovered her before she could surreptitiously slip from the wagon as they passed through one of the many small towns to the north? Would they be angry with her? Would Garrick think she was crazy? What if he thought she was thrusting herself on him, despite the fact that he had made it clear that he was leaving and they would likely never see each other again?
This last worry sent ice into her stomach. She was using him, yes, but only as a means to secure her own freedom. She didn’t expect anything from him. She was leaving of her own free will and with her own goals in mind, not to chase after him or force herself into his life. That was why she had decided that she would slip from the wagon before they reached their home village. She would start from scratch on her own, not latch onto him in hopes that he would save her.
She pushed away the lingering feel of his large, warm hand engulfing hers. Yes, she could admit to herself she wanted to be with him. But forcing herself on him was no way to start a life together. Perhaps someday, if she could ever be truly free of her brother and her past as an English lady of Dunbraes, she would be able to find him again, to start fresh, to meet on equal ground.
For now, though, she had to focus on her life—without him. She needed to be a healer, and to have control over her life. If she could somehow manage to find happiness with a man—she wouldn’t let herself think of only Garrick—then all the better.
Despite the stretch of warm summer days of late, Jossalyn pulled out her thickest winter cloak from the back of the armoire. There was no telling what kind of conditions she might face in the coming weeks and months, and besides, it would help if she had to sleep on the ground. She found a satchel near the back as well and stuffed another chemise and dress inside, along with a few other small items.
She turned to her herb basket. This part of packing was more difficult. She would have to leave many of her supplies and plants, but she could always gather more. She could take only the rarer items from her basket, leaving things like blackberry leaves and dandelions, knowing she could find them again easily.
When her satchel was nearly full, she forced herself to sit on the edge of her bed and wait. She would need to go through the kitchen for at least a few scraps of food to take with her, but it would still be bustling from the cleanup of the evening meal. The sun was approaching the horizon, though. She would likely have a small window when the kitchen would be quieter but enough residual light remained in the sky for her to find Garrick and Burke’s wagon.
When the sun had finally sunk below the horizon and the air began to turn pale blue, she eased her chamber door open and slipped through the stairwells and corridors to the kitchen. Just as she had hoped, the kitchen was now quiet and empty. She moved on silent, slippered feet toward one of the pantries and rummaged in the dim light until she found a few apples, a loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese, and several slabs of dried meat. She wrapped them all in a kerchief and stuffed them into her satchel, along with a half-full waterskin.
Now came the hard part. She would have to somehow slip from the castle without been seen or questioned. Luckily, the portcullis tended to stay open on these long summer evenings, allowing villagers to sell their wares to the castle’s inhabitants. She held her breath as she approached the castle yard, praying to see the portcullis up and enough traffic moving in and out to provid
e her cover.
As the entrance came into view, she exhaled raggedly. It was open. But it looked like the guards atop the curtain wall were just getting ready to close it. The lingering villagers in the yard were making their way toward the castle’s entrance, some pulling donkeys or carrying baskets as they made their way home.
Jossalyn surreptitiously pulled up the hood of her cloak despite the balmy evening air. Keeping her head down, she forced her feet to move at the wearied pace at which the other villagers were ambling toward the entrance. Altering her path slightly, she angled herself to the far side of a group of three villagers with a mule in tow.
“Have you seen Lady Jossalyn pass through to the village?”
Jossalyn’s heart nearly exploded at the sound of Gordon’s voice talking with one of the guards on the curtain wall overhead. She was nearly through the portcullis and almost bolted as if just being on the other side of the spiked grate would somehow make her safe from detection.
“She returned several hours ago. The lady is likely in her chamber,” the guard replied.
“I knocked, but she didn’t answer. Warren will have my bollocks if he hears that she was in the village while he was away,” Gordon grumbled. “You’re sure she came back?”
“Of course I’m sure. That tasty little morsel’s not easy to miss, or forget.” The men shared a knowing laugh.
Jossalyn swallowed the bile in her throat. It was no surprise that the met-at-arms of Dunbraes Castle would speak of their mistress in such a foul way. They all saw how her brother treated her—like nothing, like a mat on which to wipe his boots. Why wouldn’t they do the same?
“I’ll check on her in the morning. The little minx is likely counting her dresses or organizing her ribbons or some such bullshite. But what’s this about your adventures with Lucy in the stables the other night? One of the lads told me…”
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