Medieval Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “What is it, lass?” he said, his voice filled with concern.

  “Oh, I’m just a little sore,” she said lightly. The pain wasn’t great, but she could certainly tell she was no longer a maiden.

  Suddenly, he was standing in front of her, his hands cradling her cheeks. “I swear I’ll never hurt you again,” he said quietly, his eyes searing into her.

  She felt her eyes widen slightly at the seriousness in his tone. “Thank you,” she replied, feeling a surge of emotion at his protectiveness.

  He let his hands drop, but he watched her closely as she pulled the chemise over her head, followed by her dress. He must have been satisfied, for after helping her with the laces on her dress, he turned to re-pleat his kilt and belt it around his hips, then donned his shirt and stuffed the ends into his kilt.

  He went out of the cave in front of her, holding back the branches that blocked the entrance. The sun slanted toward afternoon but was still strong and bright. She had to shield her eyes after the dimness of the cave. A warm breeze played with the trees, and the air was full of the smells of the forest. The combination of the bright sun, the warm air, and the smell of pine and soil mixed headily, and she felt intoxicated by life.

  She glanced back one more time at the dim interior of the cave. She was truly reborn now. She was her own woman, no longer a girl under her brother’s control. She had now tasted freedom and the joy of shared pleasure. There was no going back, and she was glad.

  Garrick guided her to a small stream nearby. They both cupped their hands and splashed water on their faces, then drank from the cool, fresh stream. She took a moment to re-plait her hair, though Garrick frowned crossly as she wrangled the golden waves into a braid. She only smiled back at him, relishing his enjoyment of her appearance.

  Once they were refreshed and tidied up, they made their way back toward where they had left the horses. They found Burke sitting on a rock, whittling a stick idly. When he saw them approach, he raised an eyebrow at both of them. Jossalyn doubted very much that Burke missed the relaxed air about them, or the rosiness she could feel in her cheeks, but she didn’t mind. She wasn’t going to hide her happiness.

  “All sorted out, then?” Burke said.

  “Aye,” Garrick said simply. He walked past Burke to his waiting horse.

  As Jossalyn brushed past Burke, he said in a low but merry voice just for her, “No leaves in your hair this time.”

  She felt her cheeks heat at his playful teasing, but she enjoyed Burke’s conspiratorial tone and the fact that he seemed happy for them. “Not this time,” she replied, not denying what Burke could clearly infer about what she and Garrick had been up to.

  “We had better get moving,” Garrick said over his shoulder to them. “Might as well use the rest of the daylight to get as far north as possible.”

  Burke nodded and tossed his stick aside. As he walked to his horse, he casually swiped a foot over the words that Garrick had scrawled in the dirt of the forest floor. “Clever,” he said as he passed Garrick.

  The two exchanged quirked smiles, and then mounted.

  Jossalyn approached Garrick and Fletch and extended her hand up to him, ready to be pulled atop his giant warhorse once again. But when he hoisted her up, instead of straddling the horse, he arranged her so she was sitting sidesaddle. She suddenly had a vision of bouncing against the saddle on her now very sensitive privates, and felt a flood of relief at his thoughtfulness. She shot him a quick look, silently thanking him for saving her the discomfort. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes softened slightly, and she knew he understood.

  With a nudge of his legs, they were riding north once more.

  Chapter Thirty

  They traveled northward together for four more days. Without realizing it, the three of them slipped into a comfortable routine, or as much of a routine as was possible given the rough conditions and their ever-shifting sleep and travel schedule. Whether they were traveling day or night, though, Jossalyn and Garrick stayed pressed together atop Fletch’s back, occasionally whispering something to each other, which often resulted in a blush from Jossalyn.

  When they would stop, they would eat a simple meal, usually something Burke or Garrick managed to catch, or that Jossalyn foraged. Her knowledge of plants and herbs was proving quite useful, though the farther north they traveled, the more she saw flora she didn’t recognize. Frequently, Garrick or Burke was able to fill in the gaps in her knowledge, since they had spent so much time working in the field on various missions.

  After a meal, they would catch whatever sleep they could, regardless of the time of day. Jossalyn noticed, though, that after the first day of traveling north following the scene in the glen, they began to sleep more during the night and travel during the day.

  Garrick and Burke were both visibly more relaxed now. She guessed they had determined that they had put enough distance between themselves and her brother’s men, or perhaps it was just that they were more familiar with the terrain farther north.

  Either way, she was grateful not to have to spend so many of her nights in the saddle. Though she and Garrick slept apart out of a sense of propriety in Burke’s presence, he always gave her an extra length of his plaid to use as a pillow or to wrap around herself. Being enveloped in his warm scent was almost as good as sleeping in his arms. Almost.

  Despite the fact that there was little time for anything besides eating, sleeping, and ever-more riding, Jossalyn and Garrick did manage to slip away from Burke one more time. Jossalyn had decided to bathe and wash her dress and chemise in a nearby loch. The sun was warm and the air was still, and her skin had begun to itch after so many days of riding. She still had her spare chemise and dress stuffed into the bottom of her satchel, and she decided to indulge herself in a clean body and fresh clothes.

  When she informed the two men that she would be at the nearby loch for a little while and requested privacy, Garrick had grabbed his bow and quiver and said he was going hunting. Burke didn’t comment, only raised an eyebrow at his cousin, which was met with a scowl from Garrick.

  Jossalyn puzzled on this as she strolled toward the loch, but let it slip from her mind as her clothes slid from her body at the shoreline. She was sore, though not from Garrick and her lovemaking a few days previous. Instead, it was the long hours on horseback that had her muscles aching and her bottom sore. She wasn’t used to such grueling conditions, and even with Garrick to lean against, she found it exhausting. Neither one of the men seemed to be affected at all, she thought with annoyance. They were clearly used to a rougher life.

  She waded into the loch, its waters surprisingly cool despite the warm summer day. She half-sighed, half-shivered as she eased herself deeper, one step at a time. When the enjoyable torture was too much, she dunked her head beneath the water’s still surface in one movement, feeling the refreshing rush envelop her. She held her breath underwater for a moment, scrubbing her fingers through her hair and letting the cool silence seep into her. When she broke the surface again a moment later and blinked open her eyes, she gasped at the sight before her.

  Garrick stood on the shoreline, half-naked and in the process of undressing further. His eyes were locked on her, and even from the distance of more than a dozen yards, she could feel the heat radiating from his stare.

  When he was fully naked, he stalked slowly toward the water. She drank in the sight of his perfect body, all hard lines and rippling muscles. Her eyes lingered on one particularly hard part of his body, which plainly spoke of his desire and his intentions for her. Suddenly, the water felt too cold against her heated skin, and she shivered in anticipation as he waded toward her.

  Just before he reached her, he too dunked his head underwater for a moment. When he reemerged, the water sluiced down from his dark hair and over the chiseled planes of his chest and torso. Without further ado, he closed the distance between them and took her in his arms.

  “I can’t wait any longer, lass. I have to have you,” he whispered in he
r ear. His voice was tight with desire, his manhood pressing into her stomach.

  In response, she wrapped her arms around his neck and stretched up to press her lips to his. He made a low growling noise in his throat and slipped his tongue inside her mouth. His hands cupped her breasts, and then slid below the waterline to grip her bottom, pressing his hips into hers. Then his hands slid lower to the backs of her legs, and he lifted her up, one hand behind each knee, to wrap her legs around his hips.

  She could feel the head of his manhood pressing against her entrance. The cool water mixed with the contact of his heated skin. She could already feel herself pulsing, aching for him to fill her. She arched her back, pushing her taut breasts against his chest and giving him more access to enter her.

  It was all the invitation he needed. He thrust fully inside her, causing her to gasp and moan at the tight sensation. He ground their hips together in agonizingly slow circles. It was all she could do to hold on to his neck as he brought her closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. Even as her body shuddered and spasmed in release, she felt his muscles tense and his hips jerked hard as he joined her.

  They floated for a few more minutes, sharing a tender kiss that was still edged with passion despite the fact that they had just found pleasure together. Then they slowly made their way to the shoreline, where Garrick dried both of them with his plaid and she donned a fresh chemise and dress.

  “I had better go find something to shoot, else Burke will spread word that I’m a sorry shot at hunting,” he said with a mischievous smile.

  She watched him go, his bow and quiver slung casually over his broad shoulders, and his red kilt flashing through the trees. She lingered at the loch, scrubbing her old dress and chemise as best as she could, and then laying them out on a rock in the sun to dry. By the time she returned to their temporary camp, Burke and Garrick were roasting a rabbit over a small fire. Burke sent her an amused look, and Garrick shot her a surreptitious wink that almost caused her to giggle.

  On what would be their last day traveling together, Jossalyn checked on Burke’s stitches. The wound was healing rapidly with no lingering sign of infection, so she removed the stitches, declaring that as long as Burke continued to go easy on the leg for a few more days, he would be fine.

  Only a few hours into their ride that morning, the two men halted their horses. The area looked identical to the terrain through which they had been traveling for the last few days, at least to Jossalyn’s untrained eyes. The dense woods had thinned slightly, and there were increasingly more open swaths of land filled with rocky outcroppings and clumps of heather between the stretches of forest. Setting aside the general changes in landscape since they had been traveling north from the Borderlands, Jossalyn didn’t recognize anything different about this place.

  Both men dismounted, and after helping Jossalyn down, Garrick clasped arms with Burke.

  “Travel safely,” Garrick said, his voice a little more gruff that usual.

  “And you as well,” Burke replied.

  Jossalyn looked back and forth between the two men. “What’s going on? Where are you going, Burke?”

  He smiled at her confusion. “I have a different mission to complete, lass. I am needed by my Laird back on Sinclair lands.” He turned to Garrick and went on. “I’ll give your best to your brother and Lady Alwin.”

  “And I’ll tell the Bruce that you nearly gave your life to complete this mission,” Garrick said seriously.

  Jossalyn felt her jaw slacken, her thoughts a jumble. Garrick had a brother? Had she heard right that this mystery brother was the Laird of his clan? And there was some lady named Alwin—but wasn’t that a boy’s name? And Garrick had the personal ear of Robert the Bruce, enough to pass on a good word about Burke? And Burke was leaving them, meaning that they would be alone…

  Garrick watched as Jossalyn’s features clouded with confusion. She opened her mouth, and a flood of half-formed questions began to tumble out, but he held up a hand to still her.

  “We can discuss all this later, lass,” he said firmly, “but right now Burke must be on his way, and we on ours.”

  He could tell she wasn’t happy about it, but she managed to clamp her jaw shut and cross her arms over her chest. He was about to clasp forearms with Burke one last time and turn back to his horse, but Burke grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him several paces away from Jossalyn.

  “What are you—”

  “You two had better be married the next time I see you,” Burke said quietly.

  Though he was normally good at reading people, Garrick couldn’t quite measure out the mixed quantities of amusement and warning in Burke’s voice.

  Garrick raised an eyebrow at his cousin. Even though he knew Burke was a good and honorable man, and that his advice was sound, it irked him to be told what to do.

  “You’re not her father, Burke, nor are you some saint yourself,” he said dryly.

  “Nay, I’m neither, but take the word of a man who regrets not being able to follow his own advice,” Burke replied darkly.

  Garrick frowned but remained silent. He had a vague memory of a boyhood love of Burke’s being married to another, but he didn’t want to pry if the memory was still painful. He didn’t have to, for Burke went on.

  “I once found a lass that I looked at the way I see you looking at Jossalyn. I missed my opportunity with her, though, and I regret it to this day. It is not only the honorable thing for you to wed Jossalyn, but the wise thing if you ever hope to find happiness in your life.”

  Normally, Garrick would have bristled at the way Burke was being so forceful with his advice—or at least he would have teased him for being so philosophical—but Burke’s serious tone gave him pause.

  What was stopping him from asking Jossalyn to marry him? They clearly cared for each other, and they had a spark between them like nothing he had experienced before. He was also starting to truly believe their lives might be compatible. He wanted to use his skills to help the Bruce and the rebellion, and so did she.

  Was it that he still didn’t fully believe that he deserved a lifetime of happiness? Perhaps, though he was coming to trust in Jossalyn’s affection for him, despite his doubts about whether or not he deserved her. The thought of extending his heart to her and being rejected terrified him. Yet taking a shot and missing the target was better than never aiming at all.

  One thing he wasn’t sure of was how the Bruce would respond to the idea of his best marksman getting married. What if he prohibited it on the grounds that it would take Garrick away from his missions? Or forbade it because she was English, and Raef Warren’s sister to boot?

  His struggle must have been visible on his face, for Burke smiled a little and said, “You’ll figure it out, I’m sure. When a Sinclair puts his mind to something, nothing can stop him.”

  Garrick returned his attention to his cousin. “You’re a Sinclair, too, Burke. Perhaps you can find happiness as well.” Though he had been outright hostile over having Burke join him on this mission at first, then only grudgingly accepting of his presence, his cousin had become not only a trusted companion but a friend over the course of these past several weeks. He truly wished him well and hoped he was able to resolve the lingering pain from his mysterious lost love.

  Burke snorted wryly. “Mayhap, though I sometimes fear that we only get one chance at it. Don’t waste yours.”

  The last was spoken seriously, and Garrick nodded soberly in response.

  The two strode back to where the horses and Jossalyn stood. Burke gallantly took Jossalyn’s hand and swept a bow over it, which caused her to smile girlishly. For some reason, this made Garrick frown, but on seeing his dark face, Burke only chuckled and clasped arms with him once more before mounting his horse.

  “Farewell!” Burke called over his shoulder as he urged his horse on, leaving them behind. He still had a few days’ ride ahead of him to get to the farthest northeast corner of the Highlands, where the Sinclairs made their home. Garri
ck and Jossalyn, on the other hand, were only a few hours away from Inverness. Though the exact location of the Bruce’s camp was not only top-secret but also ever-changing, Garrick knew it would be hidden nearby.

  Garrick mounted Fletch and then helped Jossalyn up, suddenly sensing their aloneness. Should he speak what was on his mind regarding what Burke had said about marriage? He rejected the idea, deciding he would need to speak to the Bruce first. That would also buy him more time to chew on Burke’s words. Besides, they would be at the Bruce’s camp by the end of the day.

  Jossalyn turned slightly in the saddle. “Now will you answer my questions?”

  He smiled a little at her impatience, but also relished the thought of getting to talk more with her alone. “Aye, go ahead lass.”

  “You have a brother?”

  “Two, actually.”

  She waited for him to say more, but he was enjoying goading her too much. Finally, she sighed and half-twisted in the saddle to glare at him for a moment.

  “Care to say more?”

  He chortled in amusement but held up a hand for peace when she narrowed her eyes.

  “I have an older brother, Robert, and a younger brother, Daniel. We are all close in age, about a year apart each, which made for a…lively boyhood.”

  “What did Burke mean when he mentioned the Laird of the Sinclair clan?”

  “Robert is the Laird. He was the one who sent Burke and me to gather information around Dunbraes—with the Bruce’s blessing, of course.”

  Garrick didn’t often talk about the fact that his brother was a Laird. He didn’t want the other soldiers in the rebel camp to think he had risen in the Bruce’s ranks because of nepotism. But he was nevertheless proud of his heritage as the descendant and brother of the Laird of a Highland clan. It was perhaps part of the reason he felt so strongly about being a part of Scotland’s fight for independence—he wanted his clan to choose their own destiny and live freely.