The Christmas Visit: Comfort and JoyLove at First StepA Christmas Secret

by Moore, Margaret

  Gavin was horrified because her words were true.

  He could think of nothing to say to her, so he stepped back and walked away, leaving her to remain behind as she had asked—alone to enter the keep by herself. This game of Orrick’s had gotten out of hand and he did not know how to bring it back under his control. However, Gavin knew too well that he must.

  He trotted toward the gate, but instead of entering the yard, he followed a path to the cliff’s edge where he could see the high waves of the sea bashing their fury on the beach. Gavin grasped the rough rock of the outer wall to keep from slipping down the steep trail that led down to the beach. The winds were even stronger here than in the woods and, as he watched, storm clouds darkened and gathered off to the west. The old ones were right—this was but a temporary reprieve in the storm. Knowing that far more important tasks needed to be handled before the storm was back on them, Gavin decided to put his soul-searching aside for another time. He would have words with Orrick and settle this.

  Chapter Six

  “This game of yours ends now, my friend. I will play no longer and get caught in the web you weave around me.”

  He slammed the door to Orrick’s chamber and stood in front of it, awaiting his friend’s reaction. Orrick stood by one of the glazed windows in the wall, looking out. Gavin strode over to his side and watched as the rains began pelting the villagers who had not yet sought cover in the keep. Orrick did not answer him, so Gavin prodded him again.

  “I am leaving for home when there is a real break in the weather. I fear I have lost the desire to stay here until Twelfth Night is upon us.”

  “Did you know that I can see to the southern tree line from this window?”

  With a sinking feeling, Gavin pushed to where Orrick stood and looked out. She still stood there, alone, as the rains poured over her. If she felt the cold or wet, he knew not, for she did not move. Her arms were wrapped around herself, but she gave no other indication of being alive. He shifted his stance, calling out to her in his thoughts to get inside and out of the worsening weather. Just as he reached the limit of his patience, she came alive, looking around and then rushing toward the gate. He let out his breath.

  “You have learned something disquieting about Elizabeth? Is that what troubles you, Gavin?” Orrick handed him a cup of ale. “Tell me what you’ve discovered about her.”

  Gavin swallowed deeply of the brew and thought about the question. He had discovered more about himself and his own limits than he had about the young woman. He had learned that he did not use people as easily as some could—mayhap that was why he was better at battle than at subterfuge and strategy. He learned that he was willing to help a friend, but he could not harm an innocent in carrying out the task. And she was an innocent, he had no doubt.

  And Gavin had learned that he could indeed fall in love twice in his life.

  The metal cup was crushed in his grasp as the truth of it punched him in the gut. For all that Gavin claimed that Orrick coddled his people, Gavin knew that he had the softer heart. And that Elizabeth, with her ingrained innocence and vulnerability, had claimed it. What the hell did he do now? In love with the village whore? What kind of a lackwit was he?

  “Gavin?” Orrick’s soft question invaded his thoughts.

  “She hails from York, although she has not been there for nigh on two years. I suspect she was gentle or noble born but mayhap on the wrong side of the blanket. And,” he added, “I believe she cannot survive the life she is living for much longer.”

  “Has she threatened to take her life again? She swore to me that she would not pursue that again if I gave her a place here.” Orrick’s face paled. Suicide was the most grievous sin a soul could commit; even discussing it was uncomfortable.

  Gavin considered his options. He could simply ignore what he felt and blame it on his friend’s foolish quest. He could stay here and get to know her better and discover if she felt anything at all for him. He could…he shook his head and glared at his friend.

  “Did you know I would fall in love with her when you put your plan in motion? Or was I just a respite you thought to offer her during this slow time of the year? An old fool who would never force her to her back?”

  “It may surprise you to know that ’twas my ladywife who first suggested that you might be a match for each other.”

  “Is this some joke, then? Putting together the English whore and Scots outcast?” He slammed the now-empty cup down on the table near the blazing hearth and turned to his host. “Two misfits who have no place in the world and deserve none.”

  Orrick did not rush to an answer. Instead, he walked to a chair and sat in it, drinking his own ale leisurely. Then he faced Gavin.

  “Is that how you see yourself? An outcast? Your clan values your service and…”

  “Bah! I am an old man who has outlived his usefulness. My sons fight in my place. My nephew rules as he pleases. There is nothing left for me there.” Gavin felt the bile rise in his stomach. He had thought these notions before, but this was the first time he had voiced them to anyone.

  “So, should I have the tailor prepare your shroud? Will you lie down and die now or linger until someone puts you out of your misery?” Orrick’s sarcasm bit deeply. “You are worse than a woman, bemoaning that which cannot be changed. In all the time that fate has dealt Elizabeth the cruel life it has, never did I hear her complain as you do now.”

  Gavin grabbed Orrick’s tunic and dragged him to stand before forcing him up against the wall. Thumping his head once more against the stone, Gavin growled through clenched jaws.

  “How do you dare to say such things to me? I should have taken no pity on you today and crushed you in the dirt as you deserve.” He shoved Orrick again and then released him. Pacing away from him, Gavin poured more ale and drank it down. Orrick stayed on the other side of the room.

  “It is widely known that no decision is made in the clan MacLeod without your voice being heard. Your nephew credits you with enlarging and protecting the lands under his control. Be at peace about your value to your people.”

  When he would argue, Orrick held up his hand to stop him. “If you doubt that you still have a place there, then you are welcome here. I would appreciate your help in keeping my lands safe and my properties maintained and successful.”

  Staying was a choice.

  He and Orrick had worked well for many years in various endeavors and they had protected each other’s backs more times than he could count. But what would happen to Elizabeth? He wanted her. He wanted her very much, with such a hunger that it made him uneasy.

  “And Elizabeth?” he asked. “What would become of her if I stayed here?”

  “I have been thinking of sending her to Margaret’s niece near Carlisle.”

  “The nun?” he asked, stunned at the thought. “You would have her enter a convent?”

  “The Gilbertines maintain a lay community as well as their religious order. Mayhap Elizabeth could find some measure of peace there.”

  Orrick’s suggestion was a good one. The convent offered protection to women who had no place in the world. She would not need to earn her living on her back.

  “I would marry her if she would have me.”

  Orrick gasped at his declaration and Gavin wondered when the idea had formed in his mind. He could do worse. She was young enough but not so young. He could protect her and offer her a place to live. The glimpses of personality hiding beneath layers of fear would shine through with some encouragement and tolerance. His needs were not the same now as when he had married Nessa, and the love he felt for Elizabeth was very different from the burning, naive passions of youth.

  “I fear that would cause some problems. Margaret, as tolerant as she is and as much as she might want to, would never accept her at table or in her company. None of her ladies would. It is something else completely for my ladywife to be asked to ignore the situation when an honored guest has needs and desires, than to be expected to welcome the village
harlot into her circle.”

  Gavin knew this. He knew it well. No matter what Elizabeth’s true beginnings were, the past months spent here were lived as a whore and she would be remembered as such. Although he thought himself able to look beyond that as long as it was over, he knew that society’s rules were more stringent than that. Everyone had a place, knew it and kept to it. ’Twas the way God ordained it to be.

  Only a fool questioned or tried to change that. Only a fool or a man foolishly loving where he should not. Right now, he knew only that he was one of those, but did not have the slightest clue which he was.

  “Think on this before you act, friend. Many lives will be changed by whatever path you take.” Orrick stood and looked at him with grim eyes. “I fear I made a mistake when I challenged you about her.” A soft knock on the door caught their attention. “She comes now at my call.”

  “And you will tell her what? Of the quest that I began to uncover her secrets?” Gavin knew how closely she guarded anything about herself and her past and the comment she had flung at him outside the gate was so close to the truth that it would hurt her immensely to find out how near. And he did not want to hurt her.

  Orrick walked past him to the door and put his hand on the knob. “I will remind her of the bargain she made with me and make her choices clear once more.”

  Before he could ask anything else, Orrick pulled open the door, revealing Lady Margaret with Elizabeth standing off to one side and behind her. The women entered and their silent stances told Gavin clearly that he was the outsider here. ’Twas best to retreat and regroup. So, as he bowed courteously to his friend’s wife and strode past Elizabeth, he could not help but whisper in her ear, “Come to me, Elizabeth. Please.”

  His heated breath near her ear sent shivers down and through her and Elizabeth trembled from the ardor in his words and tone. That it caused such a reaction scared her and warned her of the weakness developing in the walls she had laboriously built around herself.

  Then she remembered her words to Lord Gavin and realized he and Lord Orrick must have discussed her. She had insulted him, and in doing so, insulted the man before her now, who had shown her only mercy and concern. She must apologize. Dragging her sopping cloak along with her, she waited for Lady Margaret to finish their exchange of words and then she fell to her knees before them both and leaned her head down further in as complete a gesture of obeisance as she could make.

  “My lord. My lady. I beg your forgiveness for my actions toward your guest.” Elizabeth stayed on her knees with her head bowed, awaiting their words.

  “What did you do to Lord Gavin?” Lady Margaret’s voice was soft, but in no way less powerful for the gentleness of it.

  “I refused his attentions and insulted his honor.”

  “’Twould be easier to speak to you if your face was not on the floor. Would you stand so I can hear your words?”

  Elizabeth gasped and then hurried to comply with the lady’s request. She had already left a puddle of water around her from her garments so she placed her cloak on it to soak up some of it. She was about to begin her apology again, when Lord Orrick spoke.

  “The reprieve from the storm was not as long as everyone had hoped and you are one of many who was caught by the onslaught of rain. Stand here.” He pointed to a place closer to where he stood. “The heat from the hearth cannot reach you there.”

  If the lady thought it strange for her husband to be offering comfort to a whore, she gave no indication by her expression or manners. Elizabeth knew this was not the way in most noble households. To be given a private interview by the lord and lady, instead of hearing their decisions and orders through several layers of servants and retainers, was quite unusual. She moved to the place he had designated and repeated her words. “I am sorry for refusing and insulting your guest, my lord.” She bowed her head and did not meet either of their gazes.

  “He most likely deserved the insults,” Lady Margaret said.

  “And the refusal,” Lord Orrick added.

  “Did you insult his manners or his place of origin? His manners were probably the safer target. These Scots do not like their customs and families called into question,” the lady said.

  “As long as you did not insult his fighting abilities, he will not take it seriously.” Lord Orrick laughed out loud then, and his wife joined in with him.

  Elizabeth looked up in shock. They thought this amusing? She had dared to even speak when not asked something and they were defending her? Even counseling her on how to insult their guest? She knew that her mouth dropped open and she was staring, but she could not stop herself.

  “Elizabeth, what think you of Lord Gavin?”

  Her breath held in her chest and no words would form in answer to her lord. What did she think of Gavin MacLeod of the Scots? So many things.

  He was arrogant and proud and fearless and hard and strong. He was thoughtful and did not let his cock make his decisions, at least not most of the time. He listened to her and showed concern for her safety and comfort. He lusted for her, yet controlled it and did not force her to something she did not want. Well, only the once and she was not certain why he had lost control of himself then. He was…he was….

  “Forgive me, my lord, but he is peculiar.”

  “He is a Scot, after all,” Lady Margaret added as though that explained it clearly.

  Lord Orrick laughed again and then his expression turned serious. “’Twould seem the time to remind you of our agreement, Elizabeth.”

  “My lord?” Did he mean to turn her out of Silloth for her transgressions against his friend? Surely not. She tried to search her memories for the words they exchanged when he held her back from stepping off the edge of the cliff that day many months ago.

  “I told you that you could remain with us here in Silloth until you were ready to make the choice to live.”

  She began to shake, the desperation and desolation of that day pouring over her. She had been wandering for days, weeks, with little food or water or shelter or even sleep. Moving from one horror to another to simply survive, Elizabeth had found herself on the road just outside the village. Knowing what most villagers did to itinerant whores, she walked away from the village, drawn by the fresh smell of the nearby ocean. Her steps led her to the cliff wall, not far from the keep.

  How long she had stood staring at the powerful waves crashing onto the rocks below her, she knew not. The wind had torn at her thin skirt and threadbare cloak and pulled her hair loose from the kerchief she had wrapped around it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  One step.

  Just one step more and all the pain would be gone. She would whore for no one again. She would give up her immortal soul, but the peace of that terrible choice called to her.

  But could she? Was she not already being punished for her sins? Was escaping this misery truly worth an eternity of damnation?

  One step remained.

  She still did not know if she had lifted her foot to take the step or not, but Orrick’s strong arm around her waist prevented her from falling. The next thing she remembered was waking up warm and dry for the first time in months. Orrick and Silloth had offered her sanctuary and she had accepted it. But not without paying a price.

  “Elizabeth?” His deep voice pierced through her reverie and she blinked several times until the fog of that time cleared.

  “Aye, my lord?” She realized that her throat had gone dry, so she swallowed several times to loosen it. “What choice is that?”

  “We know not why you have chosen to punish yourself in this way, but ’twas not ours to question. But you have changed now, recovered from your condition when you arrived and grown stronger in these last weeks. ’Tis time to make a choice.”

  “What choice do I have, my lord. My lady?” she asked. “You are lord here and decide these matters. I owe you much and would do as you say.”

  “’Tis the season of Our Lord’s Birth and a time to reexamine our lives, Elizab
eth,” the lady said quietly. “Lord Orrick would sponsor you in the spring to live with my niece at the Gilbertine convent near Carlisle if you wish it. You could live and work in their lay community, or, if you feel the Lord’s call, take your vows and live with the good sisters there.”

  “Or you could stay here,” Lord Orrick added. “But if you do, you must do other work.”

  Other work? But she was a whore. What else was she good enough to do? Good people would not associate with her, afraid that her filth would spread onto them or corrupt them as it had corrupted her. No, she shook her head. Those were her father’s words, not hers.

  When she began to argue with him, he raised his hand to stop her. “You have told me none of your past, but even I can see that you were raised to another life. I can see the pain and guilt in your eyes every time someone calls you ‘whore.’” He paused and took Lady Margaret’s hand in his and they met her gaze as one. “But we know the untruth of it, even if you will not admit it to us or to yourself.”

  Her body began to tremble on its own, violently as the cold and wet clothing enveloped her in their chill. Whether caused by their words or her own fears, she knew not. But once it started, the tremors would not stop. Lady Margaret walked past her to the door and pulled it open, whispering orders to someone outside. Soon a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders and she was being guided from the chamber by one of Lady Margaret’s serving women.

  “You must change or you will take a chill. Go with Lynna and do as she says.”

  “But, my lord…” She looked back to Orrick, who stood simply observing his wife’s direction of the scene around them. “He has summoned me. Lord Gavin…”

  “He invited you as a woman, Elizabeth, not as a whore who answers at his beck and call. Do as you will.”