Flame

by May McGoldrick

  “Joanna!” the man called out, and she could not help but cringe at the disbelief and the delight in Athol’s voice.

  ***

  The old woman emerged breathlessly from the darkness of the tunnel, only to pull back abruptly at the sight of Joanna kneeling on the ledge across the divide.

  So, Mater thought with satisfaction, at last the lass is done with her senseless game of hiding.

  She backed away at the sound of the men climbing from the depths of the chasm. Then, nodding to herself, the abbess turned and glided silently through the caves.

  CHAPTER 22

  Gavin’s gaze never wavered from Joanna’s stunned expression across the way as he extended his hand down to pull the injured Highlander up onto the ledge.

  Neither he nor Joanna had whispered a word since Athol had called out upon seeing her on the opposite ledge.

  As the Highlander straightened up unsteadily and looked across the way at Joanna, Gavin saw a look of fear in her stance. She half turned. There was no question about her next move, the laird thought. She was ready to flee.

  “Don’t go,” Gavin commanded.

  She looked back at him in confusion.

  “Are you Joanna MacInnes?” he called, trying to sound surprised in light of all that Athol had already said.

  “Aye, that she is,” the other man affirmed.

  Glancing over at him, Gavin saw, from the light of Joanna’s torch, the bloody gash on the Athol’s brow. At that moment the Highlander’s knees buckled, and he staggered backward a step. Gavin’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking him away from the edge of the abyss.

  “I did not drag you out of there just to have you stumble back in. Sit yourself.”

  “But what of Joanna...” he protested.

  “Sit here and try not to let the blackguard who cut the ropes do the same to your throat,” Gavin ordered. “If she will tell me the way to go, I will escort her back.”

  Athol shook his head in disagreement, only to have his eyes glaze over from the movement. “Nay, I...I know the way. We could both go.”

  Joanna’s voice echoed imperiously off the cavern walls. “John, you will stay where you are!”

  Her order carried the greater weight. Athol put his weight heavily on one foot as he stared dazedly across the chasm.

  “Stay, John,” she commanded again. “I will come around. And you...you take the second fork to the right and follow that. I will meet you.”

  Athol gave a weak smile at the torch wielding figure across the divide. “Quite a lass, that one.”

  “Aye,” Gavin growled, helping the Highlander back to the rock wall of a cavern. “So it appears.”

  As Gavin stepped back, the earl drew his dirk from his belt and sat gingerly. The warrior chief eyed him doubtfully.

  “I don’t need any Lowlander playing wet-nurse for me.” Athol waved the blade of his dagger toward the tunnel. “Just move along. I’ll try not to get too worried for you while you’re off getting yourself lost.”

  With a wry smile, the laird turned and watched Joanna disappear beyond the ledge at the other side of the chasm.

  ***

  Margaret wrapped her hands tightly around her middle and watched as the priest hastily gathered together his possessions. Unable to hold back the tears that were running freely down her face, she dashed at them every now and then with a shaking hand. His leather satchel sat open on the bed, and she hesitantly reached down and picked up his cowl. Bringing the wool garment to her face, she smelled it and ran the soft material over her wet cheeks. But then, glancing up at her, William snatched it roughly from her hands and threw it back into the bag.

  He paused and stared for a long moment at the ornate silver cross that hung on the wall. Then, upending the satchel on the bed, the priest pawed through the meager contents, as if searching for something. With a frustrated oath, the little man stuffed the items back into the leather bag and then threw it with unexpected violence to the floor. His hands raking through his thinning hair, he stood, looking lost and distracted, beside the bed.

  “I’ll...I’ll be back for you, Iris,” he muttered, his eyes darting toward Margaret and then around the room. Walking the length of the chamber, he stopped and stared again at the cross. “You have my word that I’ll be back for you. I’ll not desert you and the bairn.”

  His look was wild, and she wondered if he had truly gone mad. His eyes almost glittered, like one drunk...or possessed with a devil’s spirit.

  No matter, Margaret thought. No matter at all.

  She loved him. That he still called her by another woman’s name, that he was running because of a wrong he’d done--it all meant nothing. But he had to take her with him, Margaret thought, a hot flush of panic coursing through her. She had to go with him.

  Resolved on her actions, Margaret quickly drew the plaid from the bed, knotting two of the corners and slipping it over her head. Then, gathering the items that had spilled from the satchel, she lifted that onto her shoulder as well.

  He needed her, Margaret assured herself, ignoring the desperation that lingered like the taste of iron in her mouth. He needed her more than he could ever admit to himself.

  Moving slowly toward him, she reached for his hand and took it in her own. His eyes were truly wild now, darting to her face and away. He would never hurt her, she told herself.

  She stood there, ready, and fought back her tears. Something within her was desperately seeking release. As if the soul within her was trying to speak to him, to scream the words of her heart. I am coming with you--fear nothing. I will stay by you and care for you and love you, no matter what others might think or say or do!

  Tell me that you need me. Please, William, tell me that you want me!

  “Well, Iris, you are coming, I see.” His voice was barely a whisper, his tone hoarse and deadened, like a man weary from lack of sleep. “This time you are coming with me.”

  Margaret nodded as she allowed relief and gratitude to bury all sense of reason within her. Hiding her tears of joy, she brought his hand up to her face and pressed her trembling lips against it.

  You understand, she wept. You want me!

  ***

  Joanna dropped her torch on the packed earth and ran into his arms, nestling her cheek against the soft weave of his tartan. He was safe. He’d come so close to disappearing into the depths of the abyss. He could have been killed, taken from her forever! She shuddered violently in his arms, clutching him tightly.

  Gavin’s cheek pressed against her hair. “Joanna, so far as Athol knows, we have never met.” He spoke hurriedly, his arms still not loosening his grip. “I will not have your reputation ruined with...”

  “My reputation be damned. When I think of what almost happened.” She looked up into his dark eyes, flashing in the torch light. His face descended, and he hungrily devoured her waiting mouth. In a moment far too short, though, he broke off the kiss.

  “Joanna,” he growled, pressing his lips to her ear. “You will come out into the open, but nothing has changed between us, my love. We still...”

  “What did you say?” she asked, pulling back and gazing into his intense eyes.

  “We still belong to each other, Joanna. You will be my wife.”

  My love. Such simple words. And yet, she knew he was not about to repeat them. But that was fine, she decided then. No doubt for the better. For what time had they for such thoughts, for such terms of endearment? What time had they for love?

  “We will make our way around and take Athol back up to the keep, and then...”

  “But I cannot,” she protested. “If I go with you, all will be...”

  “Joanna, Athol has seen you!” Gavin pressed. “If you think there is any way in hell I’ll be able to convince him that you were just a delusion caused by a wee bump on his thick head...” The Lowlander shook his head. “Nay, lass. He would never believe such a thing. And that, of course, is assuming I would do such a thing!”

  As s
oon as she drew a breath to argue, Gavin drew her hard against his chest. “‘Tis time you left these caverns and joined the living. The danger that lurks in this place is not simply directed at me. Whoever it was that was trying to cut that last of the rope, they saw you, Joanna. They will come after you.”

  Joanna shivered, settling willingly against his chest.

  “I’ll not leave you down here any longer, my sweet. You can argue all you want, but you’re coming with me.”

  Gavin was right in his assumption that the killer hiding in the shadows across the way was indeed aware of her presence beneath the keep. Joanna’s mind flashed back to Mater and Margaret in the crypt. Margaret had left the vault first, but even so, Mater would have had ample time to arrive at the bridge and cut the lines. But how would she have known of the two men’s whereabouts, Joanna wondered? Perhaps she had simply seized the opportunity that Hell’s Gate offered her.

  Again, Gavin’s concerns worked to disturb her thoughts. If, as she was inclined to believe, Mater had cut the ropes, then she knew of Joanna’s presence in the caverns. If she did, she would not rest until she had finished what she had set out to do when they had lit the fires in the south wing months ago.

  Joanna’s mind raced. If that were the case, how could she follow through with her plans to avenge her parents’ deaths? Nay, Gavin was correct. It would be best to return with him and rethink what must be done from the relative safety of the keep.

  But there were problems with that as well.

  “How would I explain where I’ve been?”

  “You have no need. You owe no explanation to anyone,” he answered. “In fact, let me take care of the details.”

  “But what are you going to say?”

  “Only what needs to be said, lass,” he said confidently. “I’ll mention that you came upon the two of us hanging from a rope in the chasm and managed to save our lives. But as to your whereabouts prior to that moment, from what we can gather, you remember nothing after the fire.”

  She tried to find fault in what he had just said, but couldn’t. Suddenly concerned with another thought, she looked into his eyes questioningly. “You’ll not try to protect me by sending me back to court to my grandmother, now, would you? No matter what she says or demands or requests, I am to stay at Ironcross Castle with you.”

  A small smile tugged at corner of his handsome mouth as he nodded his agreement. “But that is only on the condition that you promise to marry me as soon as I settle the business of your betrothal with Gordon.”

  She paused, struggling to ignore the sudden ache in her chest at the thought that she might not live through the next full moon, that dispensing justice to the women of the abbey would put a quick end to the possibility of such a life, a marriage, children of her own. Joanna drew in a deep breath.

  But then, there was no reason for Gavin to know her thoughts. If things were different, if her life were her own, if she could be a women with dreams and plans like any other her age, then marrying Gavin Kerr would be a grand and exciting thing. Perhaps all she could ever wish for.

  “Aye,” she said brightly, hiding the sadness that was crushing the life from her. “I will marry you.”

  CHAPTER 23

  The Earl of Athol’s face, suddenly ashen, said it all.

  Gavin watched warily as the Highlander brought a shaky hand to his bandaged head. Seeing the man’s bloodshot eyes snap at him with a look of contempt mixed with disbelief, Gavin questioned his own decision to break the news to his injured guest so soon.

  He knew how taken John Stewart was with Joanna. Yesterday, behaving like some abbey school boy, Athol had never taken his eyes off of her--not from the moment they began working their way back up to the keep. Gavin was willing to ignore it then, but something he could not quite identify--something he had no wish to identify--had made Gavin anxious to put an immediate end to the Highlander’s attentions to his future wife.

  “You jest,” Athol growled, finally finding his voice. “This talk of marrying Joanna--this is just your miserable sense of humor. Tell me that is all ‘tis.”

  “Nay,” Gavin put in determinedly, holding his ground. “I’m planning to marry Joanna MacInnes. ‘Tis the right thing to do, all things considered.”

  Taking hold of the back of the chair he had flown out of a moment earlier, John Stewart’s eyes flashed with anger. “You? Impossible! ‘Tis bad enough she is already betrothed to that blackguard James Gordon.”

  “Never mind that! She was promised to him, but that was nearly a year ago. Everyone in Scotland thinks she is dead.”

  “But that makes no difference.” Athol scowled and banged his hand on the chair. “Och, you’ve got the brain of a marmoset! She’s still his, you fool!”

  “She wishes to break off the agreement,” Gavin corrected stubbornly. “I have already talked to her, Athol. She has consented to become my wife. So this morning, I sent my man Edmund to Gordon’s place near Huntly with a letter.”

  “Wait!” Athol snapped. “You cannot possibly think she means it. By the devil, the woman has been underground for the last six months. She more than likely has yet to gather her wits about her.”

  “There is nothing wrong with her mind. You, on the other hand...”

  “What is your hurry?” Athol snapped angrily, obviously frustrated. “You do not need her gold. As far as this castle is concerned, I know that the holding is nothing compared to all you have in the Borders. I don’t even know why you came up here in the first place.”

  “They told me in Stirling that the weather here was unmatched anywhere in Scotland.”

  “Aye, that may be true enough.”

  Gavin eyed Athol, wondering for a moment that he had taken the jest seriously.

  “But listen,” John Stewart continued, “even if you only wanted the lands, thinking to become another one of the line of little seen lairds of Ironcross, you have no need to marry her. Angus has already given you all of it, not that the holding will yield you much if you are not here to see to it. Look man, when it comes down to it, the fact that Joanna is alive will make no difference if you want to keep the land!”

  “What you say is true. ‘Tis not for title or fortune that I have asked for her hand. But all I can tell you is that--and Joanna and I both agree--‘tis the right thing to do.”

  Athol stared open-mouthed in disbelief. “That’s it?” he spluttered finally. “‘Tis right?”

  Gavin raised a hand. “Joanna has every wish to stay at Ironcross Castle and see that justice is brought to bear on the one--or the ones--responsible for her parents’ deaths...”

  “So you are forcing her to marry you in exchange for her wish to stay! This is madness on her part, and you are the lowest, base born, knavish, son of a...”

  “Stop, dog, before you go too far! I tell you I’m forcing nothing!” This time Gavin was the one who was shouting, surprised that the unfairness of John Stewart’s accusation had stung him so. “The desire to learn more about Joanna and her parents’ fate was the main reason that drove me here in the first place. From the very beginning--before we ever met--there was something that drew me to her.”

  “Bah!” Athol scoffed, reinforcing his vocal expression of disbelief with a dismissive wave of his hands. “Now you expect me to believe you--a baboon in a stolen kilt--have come like a lover out of a French romance to save the lady in distress.”

  “I expect a black hearted dog like you to believe nothing but the rope that finally hangs you!” The two men glared at one another for a moment before Gavin continued. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this, but I was...well, curious about her from the moment I first spoke with Lady MacInnes. And since I arrived at Ironcross Castle, everything about her has haunted me, day and night.” Gavin looked directly into the other man’s eyes. “Is it so difficult for you to understand that I...that I’m fond of her and she, as well, likes what she sees in me? Is it so...”

  “Difficult?” Athol exploded. “By the devil, ‘tis i
mpossible! Aside from looking at you--which would be enough to frighten to death a flock of sheep--she hasn’t had time to learn anything about you! Before yesterday, she hadn’t even met you!” The Highlander eyed the laird suspiciously. “What have you been doing while I’ve been confined to this chamber?”

  Gavin wished he had been able to spend time with her. But with all that had to be done, he and Joanna had actually seen very little of one another.

  “I think you have intentionally drugged me with the potions that witch of a cook has been sending up.” The Highlander waved a hand in the direction of the jars and pitchers sitting on a table beside the bed. “You did that so you could have your way with her.”

  “You are just angry because she prefers me to you,” Gavin interrupted abruptly. “Why not accept the fact that Joanna has once again--and this time finally--decided on another? She does not want to wed you!”

  Scowling darkly, Athol sank back in the chair and looked up into Gavin’s face. “Is that what she told you?”

  Gavin lowered his voice and looked steadily at the man. “You should speak to her yourself if you wish to understand her feelings. All I can say is that she refers to you as a valuable friend, one whom she would not care to lose. She has very few people left in this world, so don’t be rash in your thinking about her.”

  The Earl of Athol stared, and as Gavin looked back, he could see the emotions flickering across the man’s face.

  “Aye,” Athol said finally. “I will talk to Joanna, and I will question her motives. But in the meantime I need to know something more about you. Something that will assure me that you are indeed deserving of her hand.”

  “You are an arrogant, overreaching man, to be sure.”

  “Aye,” Athol nodded, with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And all I know of you is that you are a gruff, warlike bear of a Lowlander with quick hands and a sure grip. But what does that have to do with making you a fit husband for the lass or even a good laird?”