Highland Covenant

by Scott, B. J.

  She released a soft mewl of pleasure and fisted his tunic, before returning his kiss with equal enthusiasm.

  “E-hem!” Harold Finlay stood in the doorway of the storage room and cleared his throat. “Am I to take it the two of you know each other?”

  Franc released her and took a step back, putting some distance between them. “Forgive me. But oui, Giselle and I are acquainted.” While tempted to ask her about the boy he saw her with in the street, he held his tongue. Elated to find out she was alive, he’d pushed all thoughts of her possibly being married and a mother to the back of his mind. Once he’d spoken with Finlay and he could speak to her alone, he would inquire further.

  Giselle slid her hands down the front of her gown, her face flushing red. “What he says is true, Uncle. We knew each other in France.”

  “I see.” Finlay’s brow furrowed and he stroked his bearded chin. “When you first entered my shop, laddie, you mentioned you had something in your possession I might find of interest. I had no idea it was my niece’s heart.”

  Suddenly feeling like a boy caught stealing a loaf of bannock left cooling on a windowsill, Franc shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “While I am pleased to learn Giselle is alive, my visit has naught to do with your niece.” He smiled at her, then straightened and caught her uncle’s gaze. “I do have an item you will find of interest and I was told you would be able to tell me what to do with it. How to ensure it ends up in the right hands.”

  Finlay spoke to Giselle. “Leave us. I have some things to discuss with this man in private. I am sure you have duties to tend to.”

  Giselle bobbed a curtsy, then did as her uncle requested and left the room.

  Franc found it impossible to take his eyes off her as she departed, and immediately felt a sense of loss when she disappeared from his sight. He wanted to run after her, to tell her he loved her, and had since the day they met, but his duty to the Templar cause held him at bay.

  “Do you have a piece of the Templar treasure?” Finlay asked bluntly.

  “I do. A chalice.”

  Finlay crooked his finger. “Follow me.” He entered the storage room and waited for Franc to join him before closing the door. “How do I know it is what you claim?” Finlay asked. “You are too young to have been a part of the original covenant.”

  “It was entrusted to me by my former master, Lloyd Marque. I was but a boy, his squire, when the original covenant took place,” Franc said. “I did not receive it until just prior to the mass arrest of the prominent Templar masters, including Master Marque.”

  Findlay shook his head. “It was a dark time for the order, and in history.”

  “Before they arrested him, my former master made me swear an oath before several members of the original covenant, promising to deliver the chalice to La Rochelle when called upon,” Franc said. “It was not long after Pope Clement V officially disbanded the order in 1312 at the insistence of King Philip, that they began rounding up the knights who remained free, hoping to locate those of us who harbored pieces of the treasure. They caught me in 1313, a little less than a year before the execution of Grand Master Jacques De Molay. But not before I was able to hide the chalice,” Franc added.

  “The Grand Master spent almost seven years in that hellhole before they murdered him,” Finlay said.

  “Did you know him?” Given the look of sorrow that darkened Finlay’s face, and the tone of remorse in his voice, Franc suspected they were acquainted.

  “We fought together at Acre, and were once close friends. He saved my hide more than once,” Finlay replied somberly. “But I returned to Scotland in the fall of 1306, one year before King Philip tricked the Templar masters into surrendering to him in October of 1307. Otherwise, I would have been among the first prisoners taken.”

  “Thank the Almighty that you left France when you did,” Franc said. “I spent the better part of a year imprisoned. During that time, I watched as my fellow knights were tortured into false confessions, then was forced to listen to their screams as they were put to death. All the time wondering when my turn would come.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered as the vivid images of innocent men burned alive flooded his mind. “I was there when De Molay died.”

  “Those were horrific times,” Finlay said. “You are fortunate to be one of the survivors.”

  Franc needed a moment to collect his thoughts and to purge his mind of the terrible memories. “Sometimes I wonder who the lucky ones were. The men who perished, or the ones who lived through hell on earth and survived to relive the torture over and over in their minds. Those dreadful images torment my waking hours and haunt my dreams every night.”

  “You fought the noble fight for a righteous cause. Your efforts were na in vain. Never surrender, lad. Someday, God willing, the order will rise again, and we must be ready for it.” Finlay moved to the door of his shop, opened it a crack, and peered outside. “One can na be too careful. Danger lurks around every corner. Until the day that Robert the Bruce banishes agents of King Philip from Scottish soil, and they cease their search for the fugitive knights and the Templar treasure, none of us are safe.” He locked the door and faced Franc. “Do you have the chalice with you?”

  “No. But it is safe and easily obtained,” Franc replied.

  Finlay moved to within inches of where Franc stood, leaned in closer, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “There is another meeting called for tomorrow night, but the exact time and location has yet to be determined. I will send word to you when I know when and where. At that time, you will hand over the chalice.”

  “To who?” Franc had been responsible for the artifact’s safety for so long, he was not about to turn it over to a stranger without making certain he was trustworthy.

  “There are selected members of the order charged with seeing that the remaining pieces are collected and secured away with the other sacred artifacts. One of those men will be present at the meeting, and will ensure the chalice joins the rest of the treasure. Do you understand?”

  “Oui. But what am I to do in the meantime?” Franc had already spent longer with Finlay than he’d expected and had to get back before Lazarus thought something was amiss and he left for Rosslyn Castle without him. “Can we not do this sooner? Perhaps tonight?” He didn’t understand the delay. If he was to turn over the chalice, he would rather do it as soon as possible so Lazarus could return home. “Could I not give it to you, and have you pass it on?”

  “Only sworn members of the covenant may possess or guard the pieces. I am merely a go-between,” Finlay said. “You have held it this long, another day or two shouldna matter.”

  “That may be, but keeping it away from Philip’s henchmen is difficult. Would it not be better for someone trustworthy to hold on to it if there were a chance it was in jeopardy?”

  “Only a designated member of the covenant may hold the pieces in their possession,” Findlay repeated adamantly. “I am sure protecting such valuable items is na easy, but the men chosen for this task were selected for a reason.”

  Franc was all too aware of the strict rules governing the activities of the Templars, but it would not be long before the French guard would show up in Kinloch. “Since my arrival in Scotland, the king’s agents have already captured and beaten me once. I managed to escape and dinna have the chalice with me at the time. But I do have it now. I know for certain they are following me, and suspect they are hot on my heels as I speak. I do not want to put you or Giselle in danger. Nor do I want the chalice to fall into their hands.”

  “There is naught I can do to speed things up. The courier willna arrive until tomorrow, so you must wait. Stay low and try to remain hidden. I will send you word as to the time and location. It is the best I can do.”

  “If there is no other choice, then we will wait,” Franc said.

  “We?”
/>   “I travel in the company of another fellow Templar.”

  “Are you certain you can trust this man?”

  “With my life,” Franc replied adamantly. “You will find us outside of town, camped in a small clearing along the riverbank. There is a large stand of oak trees and—”

  “I know the spot and will send word to you there.” The bell hanging on the front door rang, causing Finlay to jump. “Someone is here, and you must go. I will see you on the morrow,” he whispered, then hurried back into his shop, closing the door behind him.

  Franc paused to think about everything that had just happened. He still found it hard to believe that Giselle was alive, and he desperately wanted to talk to her again, but nothing in his situation had really changed since they were first together. He had no earthly possessions or wealth, and as long as he remained a fugitive, a life on the run was all he could offer her.

  Yet after seeing Giselle again, he wasn’t sure he could walk away and forget about what they’d shared in the past. Although anxious to ask if she was married, or if there might remain a chance for them to share a life together, he decided against it. If it turned out that Giselle was with another man and the child he saw her with in the street was her son, he had no right to destroy her family, or to ask her to choose between him and them.

  After convincing himself that Giselle was safer, if not better off without him, he decided to depart, rather than seek her out. But leaving her would not be easy. He could still taste the sweetness of her kiss, and her intoxicating scent lingered on his tunic.

  As he turned to go, he heard what sounded like a child giggling. He peered out the window and noticed Giselle in the yard, along with the lad he’d seen on his first trip to town.

  “Try and catch me, Mama,” the boy squealed.

  His heart plummeted as the realization that she really did have a son and was likely married sank in. It was no wonder that her uncle was upset to find them locked in an embrace.

  Yet he couldn’t be angry that she moved on with her life. She thought he was dead, and it had been three summers since they’d seen each other.

  As he watched them laughing and playing, he wondered briefly if he was wrong and the boy could be his. Franc gave his head a shake. They had only been together once, and he had overheard the lad ask to go and see his papa. Regardless of his previous reservations, the only way to know for sure would be to ask her, but when he left the shop and entered the yard, to his dismay, they were gone.

  While he contemplated searching for them, he knew that the hour grew late, and he had to get back to Lazarus. The damned Templar vows he’d taken were once again keeping him from a normal life, from the woman he loved, and maybe even from a son he never knew existed. But he had no choice but to do his duty, to honor his word, and to return to his friend before he took the chalice and left without him.

  Chapter 12

  Franc rode into the clearing and whistled, letting Lazarus know it was safe to come out. “The meeting is set.” He dismounted and strode toward his friend.

  “I was about to come looking for you,” Lazarus said. “When you dinna return, I feared you ran into some trouble.”

  “I told you that if I did not come back you were to take the chalice to Clan Sinclair, and not to come to my aid,” Franc snapped.

  “And I told you, I wouldna leave you behind,” Lazarus said. “Did you run into trouble?”

  “No. It just took me longer to meet with Finlay than I planned. There was a lot more happening than I expected.” Franc tied his horse to a tree, then sat on a nearby stump and cradled his face with his hands. “A hell of a lot more.”

  “Damnation!” Lazarus threw his hands in the air. “Dinna tell me there is more unwelcome news.” He drew his sword. “Have the French Guard arrived in Kinloch?”

  “Calm yourself.” Franc stood and faced his friend. “I have yet to see any sign of the buggers. But my gut tells me they are close.”

  “Then what has you riled again?” Lazarus sheathed his weapon. “Something must be wrong.”

  “Aside from having to wait until tomorrow night to hand over the chalice, there really is naught amiss. In fact, most would say what I found out is good news.”

  “Dinna leave me in suspense, man. Tell me what it is. Good news is a welcomed change.”

  Franc stiffened his spine, then faced Lazarus. “Giselle is alive and living in Kinloch. Finlay is her uncle,” he blurted. The reunion had been bittersweet at best. He was thrilled to learn she was alive, but knowing they could never be together and that she might even be married was like a dagger through his heart.

  “Your Giselle is alive?”

  Franc bobbed his head, his gaze focused on the ground in front of him. “Oui.”

  Clearly confused, Lazarus asked, “How can that be? You said the king had her executed right after they torched her father’s inn.”

  “I believed it to be true. I even visited what I thought was her grave before I left France.” Franc peered at Lazarus. “Apparently she was not at home when they raided the inn.” Franc went on to explain the mix-up that took place between Giselle and her cousin, and how the two women could easily pass for sisters, then released a heavy sigh. “I was unaware that Suzanna was visiting, so when I was shown Giselle’s burial spot, I had no reason to question her death.”

  “So, the grave you visited was Suzanna’s and na Giselle’s?”

  Franc nodded. “God rest her soul.”

  “I am sorry to hear about her cousin, but finding out she wasna killed is wonderful news. You and Giselle are being given a second chance at a life together.” Excitement resonated in Lazarus’s voice.

  Franc caught his friend’s gaze. If only it were that easy. He couldn’t deny that when he kissed her, she’d kissed him back, but he was certain she did so out of joy when she learned he too was alive, not because she loved him.

  “She has married another. They have a child, a son,” Franc said, but he was unable to hide his disappointment as he spoke.

  “Did she tell you such?” Lazarus asked.

  “She did not have to. After we spoke and her uncle asked her to give us some privacy, I saw her in the yard with a small boy of about three summers.”

  Lazarus tapped his brow, his expression turning serious. “That means naught. Perhaps the bairn belongs to someone else.”

  “I have no doubts that the child is hers,” Franc replied. “I heard him call her mama in the street earlier today, and again while he played in the yard. When I looked at the boy’s face, there was no mistaking she was his mother. They have the same shaped eyes, same sweet smile, and same flaxen hair.” Franc slammed his fist against a nearby tree trunk and cursed. “She is a mother and has found another man. I’m certain of it.”

  “Did you na consider the lad might be your son? You said you bedded her, and if correct about the bairn’s age, he could be yours.” Lazarus shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he awaited Franc’s reply.

  “We only joined once.”

  Lazarus threw back his head and laughed, then slapped Franc on the back. “Once is all it takes, my friend.”

  Franc glowered at Lazarus. He did not find this humorous and it angered him to think that he took the unforeseen turn of events so lightly. “Clearly, my feelings for her were much stronger than hers were for me. Giselle wasted no time finding another lover when she thought I’d been killed. She bore him a son.” He found it hard to mask the anger in his voice.

  “Hold on.” Lazarus raised his hand in the air. “She thought you were dead, so you canna blame her for moving on.”

  “I am glad she is alive, and sincerely hope she is happy in her new life. My only concern now is seeing the chalice delivered. Nothing else matters,” he lied. It gutted him to think of Giselle laying in the arms of another man, an
d the more he thought about her giving birth to his babe, the angrier he got. But Lazarus was right. She was a young woman with her whole life ahead of her, and he could not expect her to wither up and die when she’d heard he was dead. Franc spun on his heel, stomped to his horse, then removed the animal’s saddle.

  “You’re a thrawn fool, Franc,” Lazarus declared. “You have carried the burden of her death on your shoulders for over three summers, and closed your heart to love. At least give her a chance to explain.”

  Ignoring his friend’s remark, he focused on tending to his horse. Part of him wished the boy was his son, but the odds were not in his favor. And while it was hard for him to admit, Giselle was better off with her new life, and he would make it his mission to be happy for her, even if it destroyed him to do so.

  That night before he curled up to sleep, he vowed to forget her. But when he finally nodded off, Giselle’s face and the time they’d made love haunted his dreams.

  ~ ~ ~

  Rather than spending the entire night tossing and turning, Franc opted to spend a good portion of it standing guard so Lazarus could sleep. He saw no point in them both staying awake. Given the events of the day, and possible peril yet to come, he conceded there was little or no chance of him getting any rest.

  Despite his efforts to concentrate on something else, the reunion with Giselle played over and over in his mind. More than once he battled the overwhelming urge to ride into town, drag her from her bed, and demand to know what is in her heart, but managed to talk himself out of it. Determined to keep his distance and allow her to live her new life without him, he vowed to purge her from his mind. Once he delivered the chalice, he planned to leave Kinloch and never look back. But he knew it would be easier said than done.