Medieval Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  With this thought swirling through her mind, she finally succumbed to the pull of sleep within the warm embrace of Garrick’s strong arms.

  The cool morning air was tickling her neck, so Jossalyn hunkered down deeper into the warmth of the plaid covering her and the heat of Garrick’s skin. She jerked a little as she realized she was plastered against the wickedly handsome man with whom she had shared her body and her passion last night. One of her legs was thrown over his, and her head and arm rested on his chest. A powerful arm was wrapped around her, his hand absently stroking the curve of her waist.

  “You’re awake,” he said into her hair.

  She craned her neck so she could catch a glimpse of his face, but it was unreadable. “Have you been up long?”

  “I didn’t sleep much,” he responded, more flatly than she had hoped after their night together.

  “We have much to discuss,” he went on.

  “Yes, I have some things I wish to say,” she said, trying to steel herself against both his apparent distance and the task of telling him her plan.

  “We’d better get back to camp in case Burke needs you,” he said, sitting up a little and forcing her to move her head.

  She watched him closely as he stood and straightened his kilt. His mouth was in a firm line, the edges slightly downturned. He also seemed to be focusing on anything but her.

  She sat up and reached behind her, trying to refasten the ties at the back of her dress. Sometime in the night, she must have pulled the fabric back over her shoulders for warmth, but the ties were now tangled and loose.

  He must have noticed her struggling, for he knelt down behind her and silently helped her retie the ties. Once the task was done, he turned to the creek and splashed water over his hands and face, his back to her.

  She stood and straightened out her dress as best as she could, trying not to let his distance get to her. Just as she had let her mind tumble through her thoughts and had come up with a plan that suited her, he had likely been chewing on what their intimate encounter meant and what to do about their uncertain future. She would just have to convince him that her plan would work—assuming that he, too, wanted to stay in her presence for at least a little while longer.

  When he turned back to her, she opened her mouth, about to let all of her jumbled thoughts spill out, but he avoided making eye contact, and instead, snatched up the plaid, which they had used both to lie on and cover themselves. He shook it out without a word and turned to walk back toward their makeshift camp. She was left standing there for a moment, mouth still open, before hurrying after him.

  He may be confused and worried, she thought, her temper flaring, but he didn’t have to be rude. Just as she was about to cut into him with an accusation of ignoring her and their shared intimacy, he halted, and she nearly bumped into his back. She peered around his shoulder to see what had caused him to stop so abruptly.

  Burke was standing in the middle of their camp, and looking right at them with a quizzical expression on his face.

  “Burke! You’re up! I mean, you’re awake, and standing!” Even as she rushed to his side, she felt a flush of heat in her cheeks. Could he somehow tell what they had been doing last night? She felt so different in her own skin now that surely it was written plainly on her face.

  “How long was I asleep?” he asked, letting her guide him to a nearby rock to sit.

  “Two days,” Garrick said flatly.

  Burke’s eyes widened at that. “What happened?”

  “You passed out on your horse, so we had to stop here for a while. That wound was infected, and you had a fever. You shouldn’t be up and about.” She placed a hand on his forehead, but his skin was a normal, healthy warm.

  She turned her attention to his leg and began unwrapping the bandage that covered the wound.

  “Warren and his men came through the area while you were out,” Garrick said grimly.

  Suddenly, Burke was alert and focused on Garrick despite her handling of his bandages.

  “They were looking for us, but they moved on without spotting us,” Garrick went on. “They are cutting an arc back and forth across this entire area, moving northward.”

  Burke nodded, and then winced as the last covering of bandage fell away and fresh air hit his leg.

  Jossalyn gasped at the sight of the wound.

  “What is it? Is it bad?” Suddenly Garrick was kneeling at her side, a crease between his brows.

  “No, no, it’s fine. It’s better than fine,” she replied in a rush. “The infection is gone, and the skin is healing nicely. All the stitches are intact, despite Burke standing on it.” She shot a glare up at him, silently admonishing his behavior.

  He smiled back widely. “We Sinclair men are harder to kill than that, lass.”

  “Sinclair or no, you still need to rest so the wound doesn’t become infected again or you reopen it,” she said sternly.

  Burke and Garrick exchanged a dark look that told her they had other plans.

  “If we cut due east, we should be able to get out of Warren’s search path,” Garrick said to Burke.

  “That will slow us down,” Burke replied.

  “Only by a day, two at most. It’s better than running into Warren and more than a dozen of his mounted, armored soldiers.”

  Burke nodded, his eyes focusing on the distance as he thought. “If we head due east, then cut north, you and I will both be pointed toward our destinations.”

  Both men seemed to remember Jossalyn all of a sudden, who was kneeling between them, looking back and forth as they spoke. They turned their eyes on her, both frowning in thought, and she suddenly felt distinctly like a problem that needed fixing.

  “Have you told her about your brother or the Br—”

  “Nay,” Garrick interjected quickly.

  “Actually,” Jossalyn jumped in, shooting a look at Garrick before turning to Burke, “I know you two work for the Scottish rebellion and that you are on some mission that is likely connected to Robert the Bruce. Also, I know that you two are working in secret against my brother.”

  Burke raised an eyebrow at Garrick. “And how do you know all that, lass?”

  “Garrick told me some of it, and it wasn’t hard after seeing you two don kilts and wield weapons against the English. Garrick seems to be holding something back, though, because he says it’s too dangerous for me to know everything.”

  Garrick gave a slight shake of his head in response to Burke’s questioning look. They seemed to understand their unspoken communication.

  Burke turned back to Jossalyn. “And what do you make of all this, my lady healer?”

  She chewed her lip for a moment, unsure of how much of her plan she wanted to reveal. She had hoped to explain everything to Garrick in private, since it partially involved their—whatever it was between them. She had also hoped to explain things when he was receptive and open to what she had to say. At the moment, he was alternating between shooting his scowl at Burke and her, his eyes hard and sharp.

  She took a breath and dove in. “I know you two are working for Robert the Bruce, but you apparently have different destinations. Based on what Garrick has told me, I’m guessing one of you is going back to the secret headquarters of the rebellion.” She lifted her chin slightly. “And I’m going with you.”

  Both men were suddenly speaking at once, denying her claims and telling her there was no way she was going with them.

  “No way in hell,” Garrick said forcefully.

  She let them carry on for another moment, and then held up her hand and waited for them to fall silent.

  “I’m not asking, I’m telling you what I’m going to do. I decided a long time ago”—it was only a matter of days, but they didn’t need to know that—“that I would escape my brother and live a life of my choosing in Scotland. At first, I thought I could live anonymously in some quiet village, working as a healer and making decisions for myself.”

  She sighed, forcing herself to let go of tha
t path. “After overhearing Raef’s words yesterday, though, I realize now that his hatred, his disdain, both for me and for all of Scotland and its people, goes deeper than I ever knew. I will never go back to him, but I can’t be entirely sure that I would be safe from him or someone who would report back to him, even in the most remote of villages.”

  Garrick nodded grudgingly at her words. Good. At least he agreed with her on this last point. She went on.

  “So, as I’m sure you have both realized, I’m stuck. I can’t go back to the Borderlands or England. I have no family other than my brother, and I doubt I would go unnoticed for long among so many of my brother’s allies. And I can’t simply plop myself down in the middle of Scotland, going about my life, as if a young English healer wouldn’t eventually draw notice.”

  “You’ll forgive us, lass, but that pretty much sums up our problem with you,” Burke said apologetically. “I believe you’ve saved my life, and we—along with all those who are depending on us—are grateful to you for that. But we can’t very well take you with us any farther. Garrick is right. You are in danger by being in our presence. We are both needed elsewhere, in places an English lass shouldn’t know about, let alone go.”

  “But that’s just it,” she said, her voice straining with excitement. “What better or safer place is there for me than hidden away at the secret headquarters of the Scottish rebellion?”

  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 ove
r 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 than 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.