“Even though our parents are no longer present, still we carry them with us. They are in our thoughts and hearts forever. Sometimes a physical remembrance can help.” He put a hand on the hilt on his sword. “My father’s sword.”
Colette gazed off in the direction of the road. From their vantage point atop the bluff, the tops of the wagons were just visible in the distance. “My dowry, my mother’s things. Each one holds a memory for me. Each one is a piece of her.”
“Oh,” said Gavin, feeling the weight of his insensitive words earlier that day. “I apologize for…” He did not know how to express what he wanted to say. How would he feel if he was told to discard his father’s belongings? What would he do if he was forced to leave his home and marry some stranger in a strange land? He realized he had judged the lady before him too harshly.
“Lady Marie—” he began.
“Colette,” she interrupted.
“I beg yer pardon?”
“Every lady in my family and all my ladies-in-waiting are named Marie after our Holy Mother,” she explained, returning to her cool, logical tone. “My mother was Marie Hélène. My maids are Marie Claude, Marie Jeannette, Marie Agnes, and Marie Philippe. So many Maries, we have taken to calling ourselves by our second name. I am known as Colette.”
“Lady Colette.” He paused. Her name felt good on his lips. “I fear I owe ye an apology. I dinna ken the meaning of the things ye carry. And yet…” He broke off once again. He did not wish to be unkind, but there were certain realities to trying to transport so much.
Colette picked a blade of grass and played with it, running it up and down the velvet fabric of her kirtle. For some reason, he found the careless gesture alluring.
“And yet we are heavily burdened, putting ourselves at risk,” Colette finished for him. “But much of it is the dowry promised to my future husband and the other is my mother’s inheritance, mine in my own right.”
“Much of it is housewares,” Gavin said gently. “Yer husband will no doubt already have these things. Ye winna go wi’out.”
“But that is the point.” Colette met his eyes. “My husband will have these things. They will not be mine. When he dies, everything will go to his son. If I wish to leave any legacy to my own children, I must take it with me.”
Gavin paused. He had never thought of how difficult things could be for women. Their claims on land or property were always supplanted by the claims of men, unless specifically dictated by contract. Lady Colette was right. If she left behind any of her things, she could never acquire them again.
Gavin ran his fingers through his hair, thinking hard. “Ye make a fair point, m’lady. We shall have to do what we may to take as much as we can. Though I beg ye to consider, some things should be left behind.” He gestured to his father’s dagger, struck into the grave marker.
Colette’s smile was beautiful to behold. It was wide and lit her whole face, her bright green eyes gleaming. “Thank you, Sir Gavin. I know if you will help me, we are sure to manage.”
“I…I… That is to say,” stuttered Gavin. She was simply too beautiful to look upon without his tongue stumbling over his words and his mind going blank. He struggled to keep his thoughts in order and not appear foolish before her. “’Tis a difficult journey. I canna say whether we will be successful.”
“I ask only that you try. My grateful thanks to you, Sir Knight.”
Gavin had the feeling he had exchanged one impossible quest for another. He stood before he could be charmed into agreeing to goodness only knew what else. She had a face that made a man want to consent to anything. He would do well to remember that she was promised to another man. She was not his and never would be. Any other feelings would only lead to disappointment.
He held out his hand and she accepted it, putting her gloved hand in his and allowing him to help her up. He squeezed her hand gently and then dropped it, remembering the need to keep his distance.
He bowed his head to his father’s resting place, grateful he had been given the chance to find it. His father’s grave would not lie unmarked and unknown. It gave him peace.
They walked back to the horses and Gavin once again knelt before Colette to help her into the saddle. She paused but this time quickly lifted the correct foot, and he tossed her easily up into the boxlike saddle. He recognized that every time they touched, even in such an insignificant way, he longed for more. He needed to remember his task was to transport her and her things. Nothing more.
This time, he did not mount his horse but grabbed the reins and led the beast down the slope. It had been a mistake to ride with her before, every inch of him coming alive with her pressed against him. He needed to eliminate all such treacherous thoughts. She was much too attractive for her own good, or at least his own good. It was best to keep out of her presence as much as possible. She would return to the company of her ladies and they would continue on their journey.
The less he saw of her, the better.
Nine
Colette had anticipated Sir Gavin would ride with her back to the road, but it was not to be. Instead, he led his mount with her on it back to the waiting caravan to the cheers of the guards and ladies. All appeared appropriate and as it should be. Colette was much fussed over by her maids, particularly after the unfortunate story of her kidnapping had been revealed. She wished to say something to Gavin, with whom she had shared much, but he quickly disappeared to do whatever it was he did to ensure their safety.
Marie Claude appeared satisfied that Colette had returned and had nothing more to say on the matter; Marie Jeanette cried over the ruined state of her gown, while Marie Agnes blamed Colette for being abducted in the first place. It was only Marie Philippe who, tending to the bump on her head later that night, gave her a welcome embrace when none of the other ladies were looking. Colette appreciated Philippe, though wished her support could be more overt and less cloaked in secrecy. Colette did understand Philippe would be criticized by the other ladies for anything that appeared to be coddling, an irony since most people who saw Colette from afar most likely thought her spoiled.
Despite all the turmoil in her life, Colette’s thoughts seemed to revolve around a certain Highlander. She did not know if it was the shock of being abducted or the trauma of leaving her homeland, but she had never sat on the grass and talked to a man. Considering her overly restrictive upbringing, she had never even sat on the plain grass before. Despite this or perhaps because of it, she had conversed in a most friendly manner with a half-dressed barbarian she hardly knew. Even worse, in the course of one conversation, she had revealed to him struggles she had never told another soul.
They traveled only another few miles that day, to an open field large enough for the company to prepare camp. Gavin was true to his word and began to bark orders to help them travel without further molestation. All liveries would be hidden and the wagons had their heraldic crests pried off and mud splattered on them to appear dingy and unappealing.
After a long night attempting to sleep on a regular pallet (her ladies requested her great bed be assembled but this was denied), Colette awoke stiff and momentarily confused as to where she was. She sat up with a sigh. It was no dream. This was truly happening to her.
She reached for her Book of Hours. Even if her life was no longer recognizable as her own, she would still begin her day as she always had, with the reading from her prayer book for Lauds.
“Ego enim scio cogitationes quas ego cogito super vos, ait Dominus, cogitationes pacis et non afflictionis, ut dem vobis finem et patientiam,” she read to her ladies and then translated, for none of them spoke Latin. “It is from the book of Jeremiah, ‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”
Colette paused. A hope and a future? Was that not what Sir Gavin had spoken of yesterday, the importance of holding on t
o hope? She breathed deeply. Perhaps there was a hope for a future in this wild Scotland after all.
It was time to embrace her future. She gave her ladies firm instructions to dress for concealment rather than show. Her hair was braided more simply into a herringbone pattern and tucked completely under a plain linen wimple. Over this was placed a less elaborate headdress. She advocated for none, but Jeannette went into vapors and Colette relented. Her gown was simple and more flowing, allowing for more freedom of movement and breathing. She had never before worn such plain fabrics and it was a relief. She was draped in a plain brown cloak and saw that her mount had been prepared with a simple leather saddle.
Her pleasure at successfully taking measures to blend in with the populace was short-lived. Gavin strode up to her with his long legs, his eyebrows clamped down ferociously over his eyes. Her heart beat faster, though whether it was simply from his mere presence or due to the scowl on his face, she did not know.
“I asked ye to be ready early,” he chastised.
“It is early,” she reasoned. It wasn’t even noon.
He raised one eyebrow. “I meant to leave at first light. We need to have everyone mounted. I know this is difficult for ye, but are there some things, maybe larger things of lesser value, that we can trade for mounts for the guards? We could lighten our load and travel more quickly. The sooner we are at sea, the better.”
Colette pressed her lips together to avoid an untoward retort. She knew he was making sense, even if it was not what she wished to hear. It was time to start making choices for the good of all. She had lightened her garments and it felt good. Perhaps letting go of a few things would not be so painful.
“Oui, Sir Knight. I will show you some things we can leave behind.” The words almost hurt, but she managed to speak them.
A few hours later, after Gavin and a few others had traded two wardrobes, a chest, and some other lesser items for traveling horses and saddles in a nearby town, they once again started on the road, less another wagon. They also sent home the injured man from yesterday and as many of the stable hands as could be spared now that they had fewer wagons. She told herself it was for the best, for she knew it was. She had to admit, they were moving more quickly now that everyone was riding.
At a fork in the road, Gavin divided the caravan into two groups. They would travel to the appointed rendezvous spot separately, to avoid attracting too much attention. Colette assisted with the division of the carts, keeping most of her own inheritance with her and allowing her dowry, now the possession of her future husband, to continue on without her. Her ladies and most of the guards remained with her party. It was difficult to allow her things to travel outside her control, but again she knew Gavin’s reasoning to be sound.
She spoke to him a few times, always about traveling arrangements. If there had been any connection between them, there was nothing in his words or demeanor to suggest it. She also adopted her public face for conversing with him, but she missed the private moments they had shared. Yet she knew it was better this way. Nothing could be gained from developing some sort of ill-advised attachment to such a man, especially with her future husband waiting for her.
Somehow they managed to make it another day without attack. Gavin continued to ride ahead, around, and behind the caravan to ensure its safety. He was always there to encourage haste when anyone fell off the pace he deemed necessary. By the end of a full day’s ride, Colette was saddle sore but admittedly pleased with the progress they had made.
Gavin, however, constantly challenged the needs for multiple tents, demanding the cooking be kept to what was only necessary to sustain life. He might be right, but he was poor company.
The next day he roused them before dawn and had everyone on the road as the first rays of the sun hit their backs, traveling west down the road. Colette managed to keep herself from grumbling, mostly by keeping silent, but it did not stop her ladies from whispering their complaints between one another. They were gently bred ladies, not intended for hard travel, but Gavin was without mercy in pressing them forward.
At last, when Colette despaired Gavin would forget the need for the midday meal, he called the party to a halt.
“Hold back!” he shouted at Captain Perrine. “The town ahead has been attacked. I will scout ahead. Have the rest o’ yer men stay and guard the ladies.”
“What say you?” Marie Colette rode up to join the conversation. “The town was attacked?” She noticed the smoke rising from the town ahead. She froze, listening for any sounds to indicate a battle was at hand, but all was quiet.
“Aye, recently by the look o’ it. English troops no doubt. Village was captured, sacked, and put to the flame.”
“Are the English soldiers still here?” asked Colette, catching her breath.
“Nay, they have moved on.”
“Heaven protect us!” cried Marie Claude, riding up after Colette. “You have certainly led us into danger,” she accused Gavin with a haughty look down her long nose.
Colette wished she had held her tongue. It was hardly Gavin’s fault there were English about. The English incursion was the reason she was leaving, after all. “Be there any survivors?” Colette asked Gavin, trying to ignore Marie Claude’s rude comments.
“None in the town that I saw. It appears to have been abandoned. Hopefully most left before the English came.”
“But is anyone hurt?” Colette pressed. It was her responsibility to care for those less fortunate.
“None that I saw.”
“Where is the English army now?” Marie Claude demanded to know.
“I dinna ken, but I intend to find out,” said Gavin with grim determination.
“If you do not know where they are”—Marie Claude’s words were an indictment against him—“then we must not go on, for we could travel right into their camp! We must stop here for the night.”
Gavin pressed his lips together, forming a thin line. He clearly did not think much of the idea of stopping when the English were about, but there was some truth in what Marie Claude said. Without knowing where the English army had gone, they might march right into each other, and that would be disastrous.
“We can take a break for the midday meal, but be ready to ride, for we may need to leave quickly,” conceded Gavin.
“We must also look for survivors,” said Colette, yearning to ride into the town to be of some help.
“You will come back with me and do as you’re told!” demanded Marie Claude.
There was nothing unusual about the tone Marie Claude used; she chided Colette often enough, but Gavin’s reaction was immediate. His eyebrows raised high and his mouth opened slightly in pure surprise. Recovering quickly from the shock, his normally pleasant features twisted into something of a scowl. He clearly did not care for the way Marie Claude was speaking to her.
Colette held her back straighter if such a thing was possible with her already perfect posture. She didn’t care for the way Marie Claude spoke to her either. She met Gavin’s eye and his disdain gave her courage.
She spurred her mount and galloped forward before anyone could say another word.
* * *
Gavin kicked his mount to follow her. He should have been irritated that she was endangering herself by riding into the town, but after what he’d just witnessed, he could only be proud of her. Somehow in the short time he had known her, he was not surprised by her impulse to help, but he was surprised at her open defiance to her lady-in-waiting, who clearly had been controlling Colette for a long time.
He urged his mount faster until he was riding next to Colette, her chin high, her back straight. “Good for ye, m’lady,” he murmured in a voice meant only for her.
A small smile formed on her lips. “I will pay for my rash action.”
“Freedom is always worth the fight.”
His words earned him a full smile and hi
s breath caught. She truly was a vision to behold. They reached the town together and rode in slowly, her guards following a short distance behind.
“While as a Highlander I do support willful defiance as a general rule, as yer protector, I must recommend ye return to yer ladies,” said Gavin.
“If you but knew how angry Marie Claude will be with me, you would understand I am safer here with you.” Colette cast him a furtive glance. “Besides, these people may need help.”
The town had been put to the flame. A few buildings still stood, black scorch marks on the stone. Anything built of wood had been burned to the ground. Around the main square were heaps of smoldering ash and ruin. It was not an easy thing to see. He wished to protect Colette from it but knew she was strong enough to handle the difficult scene.
They stopped in the middle of the town square. Many of the stone buildings were marred with black scorch marks, leaving nothing more than hollow shells. One of the buildings had been a church, its steeple still rising to the sky. He bowed his head to say a prayer for whatever fate had befallen these people.
In the silence, he heard it. A soft cry. Gavin froze, listening for the small cry again. Was it just the wind rushing through the vacant buildings in some strange manner? But it appeared Colette had heard it too, cocking her head to one side to listen. It came again. This time there could be no mistaking the sound. It was definitely a cry of something, perhaps human, perhaps animal, but something was alive but hurt.
The soft cry came again, and he located its position in the burnt-out husk of the church. He dismounted in a flash. “Stay here,” he ordered Colette, though he was not at all surprised when he heard her slip down from her own mount and follow him into the church.
“What men are these English who would put even a church to the flame?” she asked in a whisper.
“I dinna ken,” answered Gavin. He wondered who could be so callous as to burn the entire town. He guessed once they had put one part of town to the flame, the fire would have been unrelenting, even to a holy place.
The Highlander's Bride Page 7