A plaintive groan arrested her in her tracks. “Wait!” called Gavin, catching up to her. “I was wrong. I shoud’na have spoke to ye such.”
Colette did not turn around, not trusting herself to keep her temper.
“A word in private, if I may?” he asked, his voice once again soft and low, though with a sliver of anxiety. It was for this reason alone she gave a quick nod and walked off behind one of the far wagons so they could speak without an audience.
“It was not right for you to speak to me such before my guards and certainly not before a passel of orphans you found by the side of the road,” began Colette.
Gavin sighed and leaned a shoulder against the wagon, the tightly wrapped babe still sleeping in one arm. “Ye’re right.”
“And this is my journey, my people. If you wish to add to our party, you must ask me first, not dismiss me and tell me it is none of my concern.”
“Aye, ye’re right again.”
She stared at him. Of all the things she had thought he was going to say, an acceptance of blame was not one of them. She had been ready for a fight, but now she did not know what to say.
“I shoud’na have said… Och, I shoud’na said most o’ what I just said. My mum would box my ears if she could have heard me,” Gavin acknowledged with an easy humility that only betrayed his strength. “In truth, I would feel better if ye did it for her. I’m man enough to admit I deserve it.”
Colette could not help a small smile at the thought of doing Gavin some well-deserved harm, but she demurred. “You hold a child, and I could never hurt an innocent.”
“Ah, now ye have saved me, wee lassie,” Gavin said to the sleeping baby. He looked up at Colette with eyes bright in the moonlight. “Ye’re also right about the orphans. We canna care for them, but I dinna ken what else to do but take them wi’ me.”
“Yes, well…yes.” She did not know what to say to a man who agreed with her.
“I found the girls in the care of a woman o’ vicious character,” Gavin explained. “It was a house of ill repute, I am sorry to say. She was willing not only to take the baby for coin, but she also offered me carnal knowledge o’ her young charges for the right price. It was impossible for me to leave them in that situation.”
Colette’s heart sank. “They were being… But they are only children!”
Gavin gave her a grim-faced nod.
She could not imagine anything so despicable. “Why did you not say so in the first place? I cannot imagine anyone could be so cruel as to misuse a child. We must see them to a safe place.”
“Thank ye.” Gavin closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again and gave her a warm smile.
“But why did you wish to keep this from me?” asked Colette.
Gavin sighed. “I was supposed to fix the problem, no’ come back wi’ more. I dinna ken how to solve this situation, and I dinna wish ye to think me less than capable. I fear it made me irritable.”
“This is not your fault, unless having a tender heart is a crime. But we must work together if we are to find some solution,” said Colette, stepping closer, her anger appeased.
The smile Gavin gave her warmed her down to her bare toes. “I hope so, though wi’ many o’ the folk around here reeling from the losses incurred from the English, it will be difficult to find families willing to take them in.”
In a flash, Colette knew what must be done, but she could not bear to speak the words. “An idea, it has come to me of how we may solve many of these problems, but let us wait until morn to discuss it. Call the children and let them sleep in the protection of my tent.”
Gavin’s eyebrows rose, for it was an uncommon privilege for a lady of her rank to invite such people into her own tent. He stepped closer, a smile playing on his lips. “I am so glad we had this talk, m’lady. And that you decided on counsel rather than doing me violence.”
She moved toward him and placed her hand on the head of the sleeping baby. “You can thank your young friend here for your protection.” She stroked the soft head of the sleeping child, then slid her hand up, onto his muscled arm. She had wanted to do that for so long, she could not hold her hand back and was rewarded with the feel of rock-solid muscle. “You are a strong man, Sir Gavin. It would be a shame to best you before others, no?” She spoke in jest to cover her thrill in shamelessly feeling the man’s muscles.
He placed his free hand over hers, moving even closer toward her. She had to tilt her chin up to see into his eyes.
“Ye can wound a man wi’out touching him. Dinna doubt yer power.” Gavin gently took her hand and pressed her knuckles to his soft lips.
Heat raced from his touch, down her arm and to the core of her being. How many courtiers had brushed their lips against her fingers? Yet none had ever gave her such a tremor of excitement.
He handed her the baby, and she leaned even closer to accept the child. The closer she was to him, the harder her heart felt compelled to beat. Instinctively, she backed away, taking the babe with her, yet she regretted their lack of connection. He stepped back, giving her a formal bow.
“Good night, Sir Knight.” Her mind spinning, she turned and fled back to her tent.
Thirteen
Colette slept poorly, in part due to the uproar bringing five girls and a baby into the tent caused with her ladies, and in part due to her mixed feelings regarding Sir Gavin. She had never been so attracted to a man. It was unacceptable, and she wished to blame him for her confusing feelings but feared it was her own fault. What was she thinking, running her hand up and down his arm like a common harlot?
It was at least an hour before dawn when she gave up any hope of sleeping and once again crept out of the tent, though this time it was light enough to find slippers. It was strange how freeing one simple act of rebellion could feel. She strolled through the lush, tall grass, beads of dew shimmering on each strand. She ran her hand along the wet tops as she brushed through until she reached a small rise. She was not foolish enough to wander far, just enough distance to regain perspective on a world gone sideways.
The sky grew lighter in the east, at first nothing more than a gray smudge but gradually blossoming with pale pinks and oranges until the sky was painted brilliant colors with the promise of a fresh new day.
She opened her Book of Hours and read the passage from the book of Isaiah. Ne memineritis priorum, et antiqua ne intueamini. Ecce ego facio nova, et nunc orientur, utique cognoscetis ea; ponam in deserto viam, et in invio flumina. She pondered the verse, translating to herself. “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”
Her old life was past. Was she holding on to her former existence? The plan she had considered the night before crept back to mind. Was it time to let go? This new life was different from anything she had ever known. A single tear fell, and she let it roll down her cheek. She could not remember when she had last allowed herself to shed tears. Everything was changing. And yet the Scriptures also spoke of a way in the wilderness. She shook her head. If there was a way, it was difficult to perceive.
“My lady?” Gavin’s voice sounded from behind her and she quickly wiped the telltale tear from sight.
She took a moment to ensure she was composed and turned to face him. “Yes, Sir Gavin? You are an early riser.”
He strode up the rise to stand beside her. He was at home in the pale light of dawn, earthy and raw. “Coud’na sleep for thinking.” He frowned at her. “Why are ye not in yer tent?”
Colette could not help but smile. He spoke as if she were a misplaced object. “Ah, you have caught me in the act of making my escape most desperate.”
Gavin gave her an easy smile. “Anyone wi’ any sense would leave this outfit.”
“Shall you be leaving then?”
Gavin shrugged. “I’m a Highlander. Got no sense.”
“I am very sorry to hear it.”
Gavin sighed, the quick humor in his eyes turning serious once more. “I wish I had an answer for the bairns I saddled ye wi’ and a way to get ye safe to yer ship.”
The sun’s rays crept over the horizon, bathing them in a shaft of orange light. It was a new day. The old was past. Tomorrow was yet to come. Though it was sad to leave behind the old, Colette had a tingle of excitement at beginning her own new adventure. Like the fearless heroes and heroines of her beloved books, perhaps it was time to take her future more firmly in hand. “Take me to the nearest township. I know what needs to be done.”
She took a deep breath of the clean morning air. It was time. Everything must change.
* * *
Gavin prided himself on being able to deal calmly with whatever life brought his way. He was not one to dwell in anxious thoughts. However, the prospect of keeping Lady Colette safe, protecting her vast wealth, and now finding a suitable arrangement for a wagon full of urchins did give rise to a bit of worry. Add to that the growing fear of an English attack and Gavin was becoming uncharacteristically nervous.
He rode up and down the road, scanning for any sign of attack. The English were nearby in large numbers and could decide to go anywhere, even straight into their path.
Another distraction was Colette herself. He had expected her to dissolve into hysterics by now, but she had remained remarkably implacable, seeing to the care of the children and directing her ladies to be helpful. He was not sure whether it was her acceptance of the orphans or her ability to stand up to her outraged ladies-in-waiting that impressed him more. Most disconcerting was her undeniable beauty. She was a handsome woman at any time, but this morning, when the sun’s rays had shone on her face, she had glowed like an angel. He feared the image would be forever seared into his memory.
As requested, he found a township along their route that was not occupied by the English. Many of the townsfolk from the destroyed town had taken refuge there. Why she wished to stop he could not say, though he guessed she might wish to buy more supplies for their growing party.
After they had been in the village for about an hour, he grew restless. He wanted to get back on the road. Staying in one place left them vulnerable to being surrounded and attacked. He noted with impatience that Lady Colette was in deep discussion with the mayor of the town and his wife. What they were discussing he did not know nor did he care, for he was only interested in how soon he could get her back into the saddle.
Much to his displeasure, he noted tables and benches were being brought into the open square in the middle of the town. They were beginning a meal. He groaned audibly. They had no time for this. What could she be thinking?
Gavin gave word to the guards to prepare to leave and walked toward Colette to get her moving again. No matter his feelings, his job was to get her safely to Scotland and he would see it done.
He was surprised to see the children walk toward Colette, brought forth by her ladies-in-waiting. The children had been riding in one of the wagons with a few of her ladies and had been transformed. The children’s garments, originally rough and soiled, had been replaced by beautiful ones of silk and fine linen. Colette must have directed her maids to quickly alter her own gowns for the children. He stopped short, wondering what she was doing.
Colette held out her hand to one of the girls, who walked forward and took it with a smile. “This is Emelye,” said Colette with a nod of approval. “With all of the battles our country has endured, many of our children have been left homeless and without protection. These poor orphans, they have been adopted by a close friend, who has provided them with dowries for the family who would take them and love them as all God’s children should be.”
“Oh!” cried the mayor’s wife. “What a little angel she looks. I have always wanted a little girl, and the Lord has blessed me with five strapping boys.” She smiled and her eyes never left the face of the child.
“You said something about a dowry?” The mayor did not appear to be as delighted with the idea of a daughter as his wife was, but he was certainly interested to hear what she brought to the table.
“Yes, quite,” said Colette with a winning smile. “She has been given a dowry of thirty yards of silk, two gold candlesticks, a feather mattress, and an engraved wood bed frame.”
Gavin gasped. What was she doing? She was giving away her own things in order for the children to be adopted. He vaguely recognized that his chin had dropped almost to his chest, but he could do nothing to bring it back. He was astounded. Marie Colette, whom he had been convinced would hold desperately to her possessions even if it meant her own demise, was giving away her things to help a young orphaned child. And he was finally rid of that enormous bed!
He had thought Colette was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but now she was even more striking. She turned and caught his eye, a slow smile spreading across her face. She was stunning. His knees gave way and he stumbled forward, catching himself on the edge of the table. He wanted to return the smile, but the power of the emotion coursing through him would not allow it. He must get away. It was wrong to feel this powerful an attraction toward an engaged lady under his protection.
He spun on his heel and walked away.
It wasn’t until he reached the wagons and watched one being unloaded that he fully recognized the magnitude of her loss. He knew what this meant to her and yet she gave it away with a smile. Just how much of herself did this lady hide from view? None who looked at her would guess the enormity of her sacrifice. Yet he knew.
Was there anyone else who recognized what courage and pure charity of heart this took? He watched her ladies squabbling and complaining as things were being removed. Her ladies didn’t understand, that was certain.
It was a special gift, this glimpse of herself that she had given him. But what was he to do with it?
Fourteen
Ominous dark clouds rolled in from the west. It would probably rain soon, a perfect match for her current mood. Colette sat at the table beside the mayor and his wife and gave away large portions of her inheritance in order to find homes for the waifs. As an added benefit, the things she gave provided practical assistance to many families who were now refugees in their own homeland after the English had burned their town to the ground.
Despite the good she knew she was doing, it was difficult to hand over her mother’s things to strangers. There was not a gold goblet or velvet chair that did not hold some cherished remembrance. She wished to cry, to mourn the loss of each item, but she would not shame the memory of her mother by making such a display in public. So she smiled through the entire arrangement without betraying the emotion it cost her to do so. She was successful in her efforts, yet the one person she thought would be pleased had merely glowered and walked away.
She had not realized how much she had been anticipating Sir Gavin’s favorable response. It was to be the one consolation for her sacrifice. She watched him edge closer to the proceedings and noted his surprise at her intentions. She had expected him to catch her eye with a smile, or at least look pleased, but she was rewarded with nothing but a scowl. She felt cheated.
Colette directed her attention back to her work and was able to find homes for all the girls save the infant. No amount of gold could make up for the disfiguring scar across the child’s cheek. Colette heard a whisper of “devil mark” slither through the townsfolk, and none would touch her. It did not help that Philippa, the eldest of the rescued waifs, held on to the baby with fierce protection and glared at anyone who glanced in their direction.
Philippa, or Pippa as she called herself, had come to Colette a dirty thing with straggly brown hair and a filthy gown. After a rather uncomfortable confrontation with Marie Claude, in which Colette insisted her ladies provide assistance no matter how unpleasant the work or ungrat
eful the recipient, much work had gone into freeing the teen from her filth.
Remarkably, Pippa emerged a handsome creature with dark brown eyes and beautiful brown hair that fell in natural ringlets. At seventeen years, she was a ripe age for marriage, and Colette was certain she could see the thing done if Pippa could manage to divest herself of her scowl.
It was time to find a suitable situation for the irritable teenager. Colette leaned to the side to speak to the mayor’s wife privately. “I also have Philippa here, a lovely girl and good with children, yes? She would make some man a very capable wife.”
“Yes, of course,” said the mayor’s wife, smiling. Her focus was primarily on the new child she had just adopted. “I shall direct my husband.”
It did not take long for several men to approach their table and take up seemingly innocent conversations as they took note of a scowling Pippa. Unfortunately, the recalcitrant teen noticed them as well and was instantly suspicious.
“These men, what are they doing here?” she asked in a voice not as hushed as Colette would have preferred. “I am too old to be put in some home, no?”
“But of course. That is why you must be married,” whispered Colette in a practiced undertone.
“Married?!” Pippa squawked in a loud voice.
“Hush!” Colette spoke without moving her lips and gave young Pippa a searing glance. The young girl slouched and cast a sullen look to all about her.
Colette took a deep drink from her goblet before turning to the rather surprised faces of the mayor and his wife. The mayor was the first to recover.
“And what of her dowry?” he asked.
Colette paused. She wished she could discuss the matter privately, without Pippa being present. Dowries and marriage contracts should be negotiated by fathers behind closed doors, not in the town square before the maid in question.
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