The Lady and the Falconer

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Solace stared at them in disbelief. “And you greet each other like this all the time?”

  “All the time,” Logan said, swiveling his gaze to her, a wry smile on his lips.

  Solace looked away from Logan’s stare to Goliath. The trickle of blood dripped down his forehead. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  “It’s all right, lass,” Goliath responded.

  She felt Logan’s gaze on her, and she looked at him again. His eyes seemed to deepen to a cloudy gray, and her blood began to boil.

  Logan stepped up to her. She felt protected by his closeness, his strength. But his gaze wasn’t on her; he was scanning the crowd. “Blade. McColl. John Jones. Doric. Ryder. What are you doing here?”

  A light-haired man grasping a hunter’s bow stepped forward, offering Logan his arm. Logan grabbed it fiercely. “Blade,” Logan greeted with a smile. “Good to see you.”

  “We came when we heard about Castle Fulton,” Blade said.

  “All of you?” Logan gasped in disbelief.

  “One by one,” the man named Ryder said. He stroked his long black beard. He turned his beaming gaze onto Solace as Logan stepped away from her to greet more of the men. “Who do we have here?” he asked, taking her hand in his and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “My name is Nolan Ryder.” .

  Logan intercepted her hand, sliding it from Ryder’s hold. “This is Solace,” he said. “Solace Farindale.”

  “Farindale?” Goliath echoed.

  Solace heard the crowd of men grumble as if they were tethered wild beasts sniffing an approaching enemy. Hostility shone in the eyes of some, confusion in those of others. She swallowed down her trepidation. She was here to lead these men, and she couldn’t show fear. She had to be brave. “Yes,” she said, stepping around Logan. She had to look up to meet the shortest man’s gaze, but she did it unflinchingly. “I’m here to lead you against Baron Barclay.”

  “Solace...” Logan began.

  A couple of men’s brows rose in disbelief. A few others chuckled. And some shifted their gaze in silent query to Logan.

  “You?” a man with a dark gruff beard and scraggly hair asked in disbelief.

  “Solace, I have to talk to you,” Logan said.

  A caw sounded from above him, and Solace craned her neck to see Logan’s black falcon circling above.

  “Logan!” The voice boomed over the valley.

  Solace followed its source to see an older man strolling toward them over the rise, his look dark and harried. “Logan! You’d better have an answer for all of these... these... men trampling my fields and harassing my people!”

  Logan’s falcon alighted on his shoulder, but he barely acknowledged it as he winced at the man’s tirade, raising his eyes to Blade.

  Blade shrugged. “I’m not their keeper.”

  Logan shook his head and turned to greet the man. “Uncle. This wasn’t my idea. I –”

  “They’re your friends, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, but I had no idea they would all come here.” Logan splayed his fingers before him in a helpless gesture.

  “No idea?” Solace echoed. “You knew they were here. You told me so.”

  “He had no idea,” Blade said patiently. “We arrived after he left.”

  An ill feeling settled unsteadily in the pit of Solace’s stomach. “After?” she murmured, turning to look at Logan. “He told me he had an army –”

  “An army to eat me out of my home! If they stay, we’ll have no winter storage! We’ll starve,” Uncle Hugh ranted, his hands on his hips as he glared at Logan.

  “Relax, old man,” a gruff-looking short man said. “We already told ya we don’t need yer food.”

  “Don’t call me an ‘old man,’ you worthless codger!”

  Solace pulled at Logan’s arm, confusion knitting her brows. “Logan, you said you had an army.”

  Logan suddenly yanked his arm free of her hold. “There is no army!” he hollered, standing amidst the group of men. “I lied to you to get you to Cavindale. To make you stop that stupid plan of yours!”

  Solace pulled back as if he had slapped her. She had known he was lying, but to hear it from his lips wounded her as no dagger ever could.

  The falcon nipped hard at Logan’s shoulder, drawing blood through his tunic. He shrugged his shoulder so hard the bird took flight.

  Alexander chuckled. “It looks like your feathered friend doesn’t like your attitude.”

  Logan whirled on his uncle, his face a mask of anger. “They’ll restock your stores! They’ll replow the fields! They’ll stop harassing your people!” His fists were clenched tightly, his jaw taut with fury.

  Everything stopped, everything froze. Logan’s friends stared at him in shock; Uncle Hugh’s mouth hung open. Logan stood under the gazes of all for a moment before whirling and heading down the hill.

  The falcon flew to a nearby tree and perched on a branch, watching Logan storm off with impassive eyes.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  There was only one thing that calmed Logan when he was angry.

  “You ready?” Alexander wondered.

  Logan stared at the blade in his hand. He had dragged Alexander into the field near Cavindale’s northern border, desperate to vent his raging anxiety. He twisted the sword slightly, watching the sunlight reflect off the polished blade. He thought about --

  -- striking. He swung the weapon at Alexander, aiming for his head. Alexander easily blocked the blow with his own blade. “Why so angry, Grey?” Alexander taunted, sidestepping another swing. “Because Hugh is so furious with you?”

  Logan grunted. “Hardly,” he snapped, arcing his weapon toward Alexander’s blabbering mouth.

  Alexander caught the blow and deflected it. “Because you made an ass of yourself?”

  Logan thrust toward Alexander’s stomach, only to have his sword swiped aside. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “What then?” Alexander wondered.

  “Are you going to talk or fight?” Logan demanded.

  Alexander cocked his head slightly. “The girl?” he wondered. He thrust at Logan. “You can’t tell me you actually care for the daughter of your enemy?”

  Logan just barely parried the blow. “She hates me for lying to her,” Logan said in a rush.

  “What do you care what she thinks?” A swing.

  “She should have known better!” A block.

  “So what?”

  Logan raised his blade and then drove the sword deep into the earth. “Why does she keep trusting me?”

  Alexander set a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Because she loves you.”

  Logan shrugged Alexander’s hand from his shoulder. “You’re wrong. How could she love me? I let Barclay into her home.”

  Alexander chuckled. “Love is blind, dear fellow. Or she’d certainly see that ugly scar on your cheek and seek a more dashing companion... like Blade.”

  Every muscle in Logan’s body stiffened. Blade. God’s blood! Blade! They had competed for many women in the days they had worked together. Blade found it amusing, and Logan had played along good-naturedly, not really caring one way or another. But now, for some reason, his insides twisted with fear and dread. “Oh, Lord!” he half cried, half groaned. He pulled the sword from the ground and headed toward Cavindale Manor, hoping he wasn’t too late.

  With each step, visions danced mockingly in his head. Solace sobbing by the hearth, all his friends gathered around to offer their sympathies. Solace crying on Blade’s shoulder. Blade’s hands caressing her back, moving upward to caress her breast.

  Logan broke into a run.

  He swung the door to the Great Hall open, expecting anything. But he wasn’t prepared for the vision that greeted him.

  When the door to the Great Hall slammed opened, all eyes turned to pin Logan where he stood. Solace stood in the middle of a group of his friends, Blade at one side, Goliath at the other. They were bent over one of the tables, quietly discussing something. Logan’s
gaze locked on Solace. She raised that defiant little chin, her deep green eyes flashing with challenge.

  Logan approached the group with large strides. His friends parted for him like a curtain until he stood beside Solace, glaring at her. What was she planning? A secret rendezvous with all of his friends? He glanced down at the table.

  There was a sketch of the borders to Castle Fulton drawn on the parchment. Solace was planning an attack, with his own friends, against Barclay. They were planning to retake his castle without him! He dropped his head, and the laughter churned in his throat. The little vixen had not seduced his friends into her bed, but into her allegiance.

  “Go ahead and laugh,” she challenged.

  His eyes rose like the moon to gleam at her. There was accusation and rebellion in her large eyes. Logan realized, perhaps for the first time, that this was not the same woman he had met at Fulton. She had changed, grown into a woman capable of many things. A woman capable of taking back her home. He could not laugh at her. He could only admire her.

  Finally, he stepped away and turned his back on them, moving silently to the hearth. She had gotten her army, it appeared. And he had handed it to her. What a fool I’ve been! he thought. A small army has been within my reach for years, and I haven’t even seen it.

  Solace’s gaze returned to the paper laid out before them, and slowly, each of his friends turned with her. Damnation! With friends like that who needed Barclay? Logan thought.

  Logan’s eyes narrowed as he saw Blade ease a hand to her lower back. Logan grumbled and called for an ale. Ryder leaned closer to the paper, brushing her arm. Logan’s look darkened as Alexander moved over to the group. He listened for a moment, and then a smile lit his usually pensive face. To Logan they looked like a group of moon-eyed admirers.

  Logan clenched his teeth so hard it hurt. Well, he wasn’t going to be one of them, he vowed. He had other more important things to do. He threw back a drink of the ale a somber servant had just delivered. But he could not tear his eyes from the sight of Solace surrounded by his own friends. Traitors, he thought. Every one of them. Sniffing about her skirts like rutting bulls. That’s fine. Let them entertain her, he thought darkly. It’ll give me time to plot my own revenge.

  But the only revenge he was able to come up with was the attack he planned on her sweet body.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Early the next morning, Solace shivered, sitting up in her bed in the spare room Uncle Hugh had prepared for her, her arms peppered with goose bumps. She wrapped the covers tightly around her, wondering why it was so cold. Then she looked at the window to find one of the shutters had blown open during the night, letting in a chilling draft. She swung her legs out of the bed and padded to the window, keeping her blanket curled around her. But as she reached a hand out to close the shutters, she halted. A winsome smile grew on her lips, and she threw the shutters wide. Joy soared through her. Large flakes of snow were falling from the gray sky, tumbling end over end, floating earthward with silent grace. The ground was covered in a downy white blanket. The trees were splashed with a shimmering coat of ivory.

  The cold abruptly vanished from her body as an excited warmth consumed her. The laughter of children sang to her from somewhere outside, their sweet voices filling her with comforting cheer. She threw the blanket from her body and quickly rummaged through a chest at the foot of the bed. It was overflowing with dresses that Uncle Hugh had told her had belonged to his late wife. She quickly donned one of them, pulled on some shoes and raced down the stairs, out into the chill morning air. She turned her face up to the sky, letting the large snowflakes kiss her skin with cold lips. She laughed out loud and held her hands out to capture the elusive flakes.

  “Are you mad?”

  The voice startled her and she whirled to face Logan. Slowly, a grin spread across her face. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she cried. Another snowflake kissed her lips, and her mouth shimmered in the sun’s morning light.

  “You have no cloak on. Your shoes are soaked through,” Logan answered darkly, approaching her from the barn where he had chosen to sleep. His angry breath was clearly visible, white puffs of air erupting from his mouth and nose like the outraged snorts of a disturbed dragon.

  “You’re one to talk,” she said, looking over his disheveled white tunic, black leggings and black boots, which he had obviously just thrown on.

  As she turned her back to him, she heard him retort, “That’s because someone’s insane cackling woke me and I came out to see who was up so damned early.”

  She moved to a tree stump covered with snow and bent over the wood, slowly gathering a handful of fallen flakes. “Yes. Laughter is such a strange sound around here,” she said, hoping to distract him for a moment

  “Get inside this instant before you catch your death,” he ordered.

  Solace whirled, letting the snowball fly. It sailed through the air, spinning straight for its intended target, but Logan easily sidestepped it. His face darkened with outrage and disbelief as he continued to approach her. She burst into giggles and stooped to grab another handful of snow.

  “Don’t!” he warned.

  Splat. The ball of snow hit him squarely in the chest, spreading a dark smear of cold wetness across his tunic.

  Solace clapped in glee. Ignoring the frigid chill in her reddening fingers, she bent to retrieve another snowball. The insolent dog deserves to have an entire avalanche of snow fall on his stubborn head, she thought. And I’m going to start it! As she straightened, she saw Logan was only a few feet away from her. She quickly pelted him with the next snowball. Without seeing where it hit, she turned to race away.

  Logan launched himself at her, catching her around the waist, tackling her. Snow billowed up all around them as their bodies hit the ground. He pinned her in the snow, his body pressing tightly against hers.

  Solace laughed and soft, white clouds of happiness slipped out from her lips as her warm joy mingled with the cold air.

  Until he picked up a handful of snow.

  Then her laughter trailed off as her eyes widened incredulously. “You wouldn’t!” she half laughed, half shrieked, grabbing his hand and holding it away from her.

  A smile crossed his handsome face, lighting up his features with a warmth she had always hoped to see again. Surrounded by freezing wind, entrapped in a frozen cocoon of snow, Solace’s heart melted. His smile was the most devastatingly beautiful thing she had ever seen. Her hold on his hand eased, and the laughter left her face. “You should smile more often.”

  He sobered, his smile fading as he stared down at her, inspecting her face closely. His gaze caressed her cherry nose, her red cheeks, and finally came to rest on her moist, parted lips.

  Her lips parted even more, obeying the command his eyes were giving them, inviting entrance to their temptation.

  A trickle of icy water traced its way from the snow in Logan’s hand down Solace’s wrist, disappearing beneath her sleeve. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to breathe for fear he would leave her, but the snow melting in his palm was a temptation she couldn’t resist.

  She shoved his hand into his face, smearing the frozen white rain across his skin, breaking the spell they were falling under. He hissed steam and she squirmed wildly, trying to get away from him, but his weight effectively held her hostage. He wiped the snow from his cheek with his shoulder and scooped up another handful. “You’ll pay for that one.”

  “Don’t! Don’t!” she squealed as an evil smile crossed his face. He easily held her hands aside with one of his, trapping them above her head. He touched the snow to her lips and slowly made a cold, wet line from her chin to the top of her dress. Solace squirmed helplessly in his clutches. He paused at her neckline, then lifted the fabric and tucked the snow down the front of her dress.

  Gasping in disbelief, Solace shoved him from her and stood, arching her body away from the snow in her dress, dancing like some mad drunk in her effort to escape the stinging cold. The ball of melting
snow traced an icy path down her body, dipping between her breasts, then rolling across her stomach and finally out her skirt. She shivered and glared at him. “This is war,” she vowed.

  He approached her, and she backed away from him. “You want a war,” Logan murmured, “you’ve got one.”

  She backed up slowly, stopping short as her back touched the stone wall of Cavindale Manor. “Wait,” she said, holding up her hands and pressing them tentatively against his chest. His muscles were hard. “I was just kidding. I don’t want to be at war with you.” There was honesty in her voice.

  Snowflakes swirled around them, drifting lazily through the morning air, sparkling as the sun bounced off their delicate shapes. For a moment, Solace felt a stirring of magic in her soul, and she wondered if it was from nature’s wintry gift or from the look on Logan’s face as he gazed tenderly at her.

  He reached a hand to run it down her nose and over her cheeks. “You’re freezing. Let’s get inside and warm up.”

  The sudden thought of curling into a blanket beside Logan warmed her spirit as well as her body. She allowed him to take her hand in his and lead her inside Cavindale Manor.

  “Go upstairs and get changed,” Logan instructed as he closed the door behind them.

  Something like alarm flared through her. She felt so close to him now, so at ease. She was afraid if she left him, if she even let go of his hand, the distance would somehow be in his eyes when she returned.

  “Go on,” he ordered, gently disengaging his hand from hers.

  “Wait for me by the hearth,” she replied.

  His lips curved in a warm promise and Solace turned, fleeing up the stairs.

  ***

  Logan leaned against the roaring hearth, spreading his fingers before him to warm them. As the snow melted from his chest and hair, the magic began to fade and Logan’s old, cynical mood returned. Finally, he heard the rustle of cloth and turned to see Solace crossing the Great Hall toward him. He saw her tiny toes appear and disappear with her steps beneath her blue gown; she hadn’t even taken the time to don a pair of shoes. She wore a blanket around her shoulders. Her hair was wild and uncombed, a tangle of rebellious curls. But it was her large emerald eyes that kept his gaze riveted.