Both men quirked an eyebrow at her, and she could suddenly see their blood relation in their skeptical look.
“Hear me out,” she began. “The rumors have been swirling around Dunbraes for years now about some sort of moving camp out of which the Bruce and his rebels fight. But despite the English army’s efforts—not to mention my brother’s searching and raiding—it has never been found. I wouldn’t be surrounded by curious and potentially talkative villagers. I’d be hidden among Scottish rebels who would have no interest in spreading word of my presence, especially not if it meant helping my brother in any way. I know he is well-known and reviled in many parts of Scotland.”
Garrick began to argue with her, but Burke held up a hand, cocking his head to the side to indicate she should go on.
“Most importantly, though, the Bruce’s camp is the place where my skills would be needed the most,” she said firmly.
“But why would you want to help the Scottish rebellion?” Garrick said sharply. He took a breath and went on in a slightly gentler tone. “I know your brother was cruel to you and didn’t allow you to practice your healing art, so I understand why you wouldn’t want to go back to living under his control. But you are English.”
She caught the implication behind his words and lowered her eyes, hurt that he would question her motives simply because of her nationality.
“The country of one’s birth doesn’t always align with one’s true home,” she said quietly. “As I’ve told you before, ever since we moved to the Borderlands, I have felt an…affinity with Scotland and its people. I understand the desire for freedom, and I think everyone should have a chance to live as they choose without being crushed under a more powerful force.”
She willed herself to meet his gaze again. His gray eyes were stormy, but she didn’t drop her gaze, trying to show him that she wouldn’t be deterred.
“I want to help with the cause for independence, and the best way I know how to do that is by healing those who are sick or injured. What better place to help the ill and wounded than within an army?”
“She makes an excellent point, Garrick,” Burke said cautiously.
Garrick cursed quietly and ran a hand through his hair, searching the sky for answers. But Jossalyn didn’t want to give him a chance to formulate another objection. She had one more arrow in her quiver.
“You said before that I saved your life, Burke. Well, you both saved my life. I doubt I could have survived much longer under my brother’s rule. Consider us even—a life for a life. Now I am going to go find Robert the Bruce’s secret camp and offer my healing skills to him and his army. You can either help me find him, or at least take me farther north, or you can go on without me and I’ll travel northward alone.”
Burke and Garrick exchanged a laden look. They seemed to be communicating silently with each other again, so she waited, folding her hands in her lap. She was proud of herself for saying her piece and not backing down, even in the face of Garrick’s fierce glare.
Finally, Garrick spoke, though he sounded weary. “As I said before, we will head due east for a day’s worth of travel before heading north.” He turned and began to walk toward where he had hidden the horses, apparently ending the conversation.
“Does that mean I’m going with you?” Jossalyn said, glancing back and forth between the two men.
“Aye, lass, it does,” Burke said, a tired smile on his face.
“But we can’t leave right now,” she said, suddenly alarmed.
“Why not?” Garrick said irritably, turning on his heels back toward her.
“Burke needs more time to rest and regain his strength,” she said firmly. “You can’t expect him to simply jump on a horse again after two days of battling a fever and infection.”
Though Burke began to protest that he was fine, she crossed her arms over her chest resolutely.
Garrick sighed, and then surprised her by saying “The lass is right. We could all use a bit more rest. Besides, we haven’t had more than dried meat and hardtack for days.” He glanced up at the sky, gauging the position of the morning sun. “We can rest for the day, then travel at night. I’d guess Warren and his men are well to the northwest of us now, but we stand a better chance of going unseen at night anyway.”
Though he had just said they should rest, Jossalyn felt a surge of excitement and energy course through her. “I’ll prepare you another bandage and some tea, Burke,” she said, jumping to her feet.
Burke’s eyes suddenly locked on her hair, and he stood up next to her, still keeping most of his weight on his good leg. “Is that a leaf in your hair, lass?” he said, drawing away a green leaf from her tresses, which had completely come undone from her braid last night as she and Garrick had been—
She could feel Burke’s eyes boring into her, though she kept her gaze on her feet, afraid her face would give something away. Nevertheless, she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks under his scrutiny.
“Why were you both down at the creek when I awoke?” he said carefully, shifting his gaze to Garrick.
Garrick coughed but managed to answer. “We were fetching some water. For tea. For you,” he said haltingly.
Burke glanced around their small camp, then said pointedly back to Garrick, “Funny. I don’t see any water.”
“We forgot the waterskin. I’ll go get it now,” Garrick answered quickly, turning away so he wouldn’t have to answer any more of Burke’s suspicious questions.
Jossalyn, unfortunately, didn’t have any such errand to escape Burke’s gaze. He turned back to her, one eyebrow raised. “Be careful, lass,” he said quietly. “Garrick is dangerous, and I don’t just mean with a bow. He cares about his work above all else, and he fancies himself a villain because of it. He may need more healing than even you could manage.”
She opened her mouth, fumbling for words to deny Burke’s implied assumption about Garrick and her relationship, or to argue against Garrick’s self-imposed label as a bad man, but she couldn’t manage to formulate anything that didn’t smack of defensiveness or outright blindness. Finally, she closed her mouth and only nodded.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The three of them passed the day in near silence. Garrick returned with water, and as he built a fire, Jossalyn went about preparing fresh bandages and tea for Burke. Though insistent that he was fine, Burke stayed seated as much as possible and looked more tired than usual. At one point, Garrick disappeared for about an hour, but when he returned he had a rabbit and several wild carrots and onions in his hands, his bow and quiver slung over one shoulder. They made a simple stew over the fire, and the food seemed to revitalize Burke somewhat. Eventually, though, he crawled back into his shelter and slept a few more hours in the afternoon.
“You should do the same,” Garrick said, nodding toward Burke’s prone form inside his shelter.
This was the first time they had been alone and able to talk since they had woken in each other’s arms. The memory caused Jossalyn to blush, but she didn’t want to launch into a discussion of all that had passed between them right now. She had said the most important part of her goal already—to join the Scottish rebellion. She felt weary at the prospect of another battle with Garrick, especially if it would be a battle in which they were on opposite sides of the issue of their feelings for each other.
So instead of talking more, she only nodded and headed toward her shelter. She still had one of Garrick’s plaids, which she had been using as a pillow. Once she had laid her head down on it and closed her eyes, though, his masculine scent, faint but lingering, invaded her senses. Strangely, she found it comforting. She let the scent envelope her as she drifted off to sleep for a few short hours before their journey would continue.
Garrick knew he needed sleep too. They were going to travel through the night, and he had been restless the night before. But he had even more to chew on now than he had last night.
On top of the impossible bind he found himself in—both wanting Jossalyn more t
han anything and knowing that he couldn’t have her—now he was going to take her with him to the Bruce’s camp.
This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. It put her in too much danger to be so close to the wars and battles in the middle of which he always found himself. She had made a compelling case, but it didn’t stop him from doubting the sanity of bringing an English lady—and Raef Warren’s sister, no less—right into the middle of the Bruce’s resistance operation.
For one thing, he still had lingering doubts about her allegiance. He hated himself for being so suspicious and untrusting, but thinking the worst of people—nay, thinking realistically—had saved his life more than once. He believed she identified with Scotland’s struggle for freedom, and that she wanted to be in a place where her healing gift would help the most number of people. But the memory of her grabbing his arrow just as he was about to shoot Warren still chaffed. If push came to shove, would she side with her brother, or with the Scots?
Even assuming she would be loyal to his people, there was the problem of the Bruce’s men themselves. Garrick doubted they would trust her, especially if they knew who she was related to. If they didn’t accept her into the camp, she would be in more danger than she was now. They could turn on her, or simply let it be known that an English healer lass was in their presence. Word would get back to Warren eventually, Garrick was sure of it.
The one glimmer of hope he allowed himself to indulge in was the thought of her being in the Bruce’s camp with him. It meant that instead of days, they might have weeks together—until the Bruce sent him on another secret mission.
But would having more time in each other’s presence only make things harder on both of them? A small part of him had hoped that by sating their lust for each other last night, the razor-sharp passion between them would be dulled. He would have scratched an itch that was long overdue, given the fact that he hadn’t been in the company of a lass in a long while. And she would have gotten to explore her newfound sexual desires with someone who wouldn’t take her virginity. That could have been it.
But he knew such a possibility was a long-shot to begin with. He hadn’t been terribly surprised when his desire for her hadn’t been blunted at all by their encounter.
What he hadn’t anticipated was that his longing for her, body and mind, would redouble in force. He wanted her more than ever before, the memory of her body writhing in pleasure, his name on her lips, her hand touching his—Christ, he had to keep his mind on track.
That was precisely the problem. With Jossalyn around the Bruce’s camp, Garrick didn’t fully trust himself to be able to think clearly, let alone act as one of the Bruce’s top advisors and warriors. And what would happen once he was sent off on another mission? He would be forced to leave Jossalyn, the most beautiful, tantalizing, enthralling woman he had ever met, in the middle of a camp filled with randy and virile Scottish warriors. He forced himself to release his jaw, which had clenched at the mere thought.
He should just be grateful that he had gotten to spend any time with her at all. He was a lucky and undeserving bastard. Perhaps instead of worrying about the future, he should just enjoy what he had while he had it.
With that thought, he hunkered down on the ground in front of the dying fire. The sun was already sloping toward afternoon. He had a few hours left to rest before they would start the next leg of their journey northward. He might as well enjoy the dreams of Jossalyn that were sure to lace his sleep.
Jossalyn woke to a little shake of her shoulder. She tried to ignore it and reenter her dream, which had involved Garrick’s hands, lips, and tongue, but the soft shake came again. She muttered and turned away from the hand on her shoulder, only to hear a faint chuckle behind her. Garrick’s husky laugh sent a thrill through her, blending her sensual dream with an image of his smiling face in her foggy, half-awake brain.
“You are fussier than an old cat, lass.”
She jerked upright, fully awake now.
“I’ve let you sleep as long as I can, but the sun has set, and Burke and the horses are ready. It’s time to head out.”
The teasing lingered in his voice at first, but then he turned into the serious warrior she was becoming familiar with. He was leaning into her shelter, the warmth of his body invading the small space.
Despite her excitement to be headed toward Robert the Bruce’s secret camp, she felt obligated to say, “I still think it is too soon for Burke to travel.”
“I think he and I will both go stir-crazy if we are pinned down like a fox in its den with your brother and his men sweeping the area,” he said with a raised eyebrow.
She nodded and picked up his plaid, which she had been sleeping on, and extended it toward him.
“Nay, keep it, lass,” he said quietly. “You can use it tonight as we ride if you need to. The nights have been cool.”
She averted her eyes, remembering how warm the previous night had been when she was pressed against him and tucked snugly under his plaid. He retreated out of the shelter, and she followed, hoping her cheeks weren’t as bright red as the Sinclair colors in her hand.
Just as Garrick had said, everything was ready for their departure. The air was the pale blue of early twilight, but she could make out Burke standing next to his horse, leaning his weight on one leg. Garrick helped boost him into the saddle, and Burke managed to swing his leg over his horse, grunting slightly. Then Garrick mounted his own horse and guided the animal over to where she stood.
He extended a hand to her, which she took, and was immediately lifted into the air. Garrick pulled her in front of him so that she was straddling his horse, her back and bottom plastered to his front. The position was familiar to her now, but it nevertheless sent a shiver of heat through her.
As he nudged his horse forward, reining it eastward, she took a quick look back over her shoulder at their temporary camp. No trace of their presence remained. It was odd, she thought, because she would never forget this spot for as long as she lived.
It was where she had decided to join the Scottish rebellion.
It was where she had shared her body with Garrick, their pleasure intertwining next to that slow-moving creek.
It was where she had come alive.
She turned her head forward again, ready to meet her future.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Despite his best efforts to remind himself of all the reasons why he didn’t deserve the lass riding in front of him on Fletch’s back—why he didn’t deserve happiness at all—Garrick felt joy seeping into his limbs.
Jossalyn’s hair kept brushing his face, and the combination of her scent and her soft, slim body pressed against him was becoming familiar yet thrillingly tantalizing. Burke had come through the fever, and his leg, though still healing, would eventually be fine. And he was headed back toward Robert the Bruce’s camp—once they turned northward anyway—where he would be able to deliver the news of Longshanks’s death and complete this mission. With Jossalyn at his side.
Though the fears and worries still bubbled up through his growing happiness, it felt as though the decision were already made, and since Jossalyn was coming with him to the Bruce’s camp, he might as well enjoy their connection. Despite all the odds, despite his dark deeds as part of the Scottish resistance, and his attempts to resist what now seemed inevitable, they were together for this journey, and they sought the same destination—the Bruce’s headquarters.
They even both sought the same work, in a way. They both wanted to help the Bruce and the other Scottish rebels achieve their freedom. He still didn’t dare let himself get carried away in his imagination, but a seed of hope was beginning to take root in his mind. Perhaps there was a chance they could have a future together. He knew he should just be grateful for the time he had with her now, but he was greedy. He wanted more of her.
He let himself indulge in the pleasurable ache for her throughout the long night as they cut eastward across the Lowlands. He savored the moment when she leaned
back against his chest about halfway through the night, her head tucked under his chin and her body warm and limp in his arms. He let her wildflower scent wrap around him. He even gave over the lead to Burke, allowing himself to simply follow his cousin instead of cut the path himself as he relished the feel of her against him. She slept like that for a few hours, but all too soon the sky began to lighten with the first traces of dawn, and she slowly came awake.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, turning her head slightly over her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to fall—”
“Rest all you like, lass. I don’t mind.” And he meant it. He wasn’t thinking about the fastest path back to the Bruce and his camp at the moment. He was here with her now.
Suddenly, Burke reined in his horse and cursed. Garrick tore his eyes away from Jossalyn’s upturned face and followed Burke’s gaze. They had come upon a clearing in the woods, and the predawn light revealed a small cottage along with a barn and shed nearby.
But something was wrong.
Instead of a trail of smoke winding out of the cottage’s chimney, there was smoke rising from one of the corners of the thatched roof. Or what was left of the thatched roof. The charred remains of the thatch appeared black in the bluish light, and though one corner still smoked, it looked like the fire had been out for several hours.
The glen was dead quiet.
Instinctively, Garrick reached for his bow, which was sticking partway out of one of his saddlebags. Burke’s hand was already on the sword at his waist. Garrick clutched the bow, but there was nothing to shoot at, and besides, Jossalyn’s position in front of him would prevent him from firing an accurate shot anyway. She suddenly tensed, seeing the cabin and apparently sensing the men’s alertness.
He swung down from the saddle but didn’t reach up to pull her to the ground after him. Instead, he placed the reins in her hand.
Lords of the Kingdom Page 133