Gaithlin saw the broadsword come free and she gasped with fear, pushing Malcolm deep into the shelter as Christian had done with her in a futile attempt to preserve her life. There was no use in seeking the war hammer; it would only delay the inevitable. Her only hope, as she decided, was to reason with her new brother-in-law. To seek mercy from a soul that loved her husband almost as much as she did.
She already knew that at least one St. John was capable of caring. Mayhap the same would hold true with another.
“Are you going to kill me, Quinton?”
He stared at her, gripping the sword. “I… I have been ordered to.”
She could sense his reluctance, his hesitation, and it served to bank her apprehension somewhat. Feeling oddly bolstered by his lack of courage, she moved toward him beneath the silver moonlight.
“I understand. In spite of everything Christian has told you, do you still intend to kill me?”
Quinton could hear his brother’s plea reverberating with deafening clarity in the recesses of his befuddled mind; staring at the magnificent woman before him, he honestly couldn’t muster the bravery needed to accomplish his most heinous task. In faith, he realized Christian’s heart-felt plea had affected him more deeply than he had a desire to acknowledge. Hearing his brother’s pain, seeing his most agonizing expression as he battled to protect his wife, Quinton knew that he was fully incapable of killing his brother’s beloved spouse, even if she was a de Gare.
Which is why he had volunteered for the task, sending Jasper to deal with his errant brother. Jasper would have plunged his sword deep into her beautiful chest without thought to his actions, only aware that he was carrying out his orders. But in the tender extremes of Quinton’s sensitive heart, he had known all along that he couldn’t kill his brother’s wife. He had to be the one who remained behind to accomplish the ‘task’.
If you have ever loved me, don’t kill her!
His sword clattered to the ground. “Nay,” his voice was raspy. “I am not going to kill you. God forgive me for disobeying my father’s wishes, but I find that I cannot do you harm.”
Gaithlin’s limbs washed with relief. Slowly, she closed the distance between them, reaching down to collect his fallen sword. With a gentle, thankful smile on her lips, she sheathed the weapon into his knee-length scabbard.
“Where have they taken Christian?” she whispered, gazing into Quinton’s pained brown eyes.
“Home,” his voice was equally faint. “My father is going to kill him for marrying you.”
Gaithlin’s smile vanished. “Then you must return immediately and prevent this. Our marriage will bring a lasting peace and your father must come to understand this.”
Quinton shook his head, his manner laced with sorrow and grief. “My father never listens to me. The only person he remotely considered was Christian, and with his betrayal of the St. John legacy, there will be no reasoning with the man.” Unlatching his visor, his helm swung open to reveal his handsome, sweaty face. “There is nothing I can do, especially since I have failed to kill you as my father demanded. I, too, am now subject to his wrath.”
Although Gaithlin was confident enough that Quinton no longer meant her any harm, the terror she was experiencing on Christian’s behalf was overwhelming. To think of her Demon, her most beloved knight, trapped by his vengeful father nearly drove her mad with unimagined horrors.
She had always suspected the extent of the man’s wrath and she had tried several times to voice her fears. But Christian, as always, had remained confident that he could force his father to see reason. However, witnessing the fear in Quinton’s eyes when he spoke of his father’s rage, she wasn’t at all sure that her husband could preserve his own life. In fact, she was sure of it.
“You… you do not have to tell your father that you did not carry out his orders,” she said halting, thinking furiously. “Tell him that I threw myself into the river when I discovered Christian had been returned to Eden. Tell him anything you desire, if it will only keep you in his good graces long enough to help your brother.”
As Quinton shook his head in defeat, Gaithlin grasped him by the arm, forcing him to meet her gaze. Now that they had moved beyond their inbred loathing and disgust of one another, now that the fear had dissipated, she had no tolerance for his cowardice. Not when Christian’s life was at stake.
“Listen to me, Quinton. You must save your brother. I shall return to Winding Cross and convince my mo… father to surrender his arms. That was your father’s goal with the initiation of my abduction, was it not? Go and tell your father that if he will spare Christian, Winding Cross shall surrender.”
Quinton stared at her, disbelief clouding his eyes. “How can you be so certain that your father will submit based purely on your pleadings? Moreover, what leads you to believe that he will not punish you for marrying my brother? Surely he will be livid with the knowledge that his heiress has foolishly wed the Demon of Eden.”
Gaithlin shook her head vigorously, the desperation to act immediately to save Christian’s life animating her mannerisms. “You must trust me, Quinton. My father will listen. He will do anything I ask. Now, you must go immediately and defend Christian. I shall find my way home and….”
“Nay, lady, I must take you home,” Quinton interrupted her desperate chatter, his fatigue and emotions depleting his energy. “ ’Twould be foolish of me to spare your life, only to have you fall victim to thieves or ruffians on the journey home. Certainly my brother would never forgive me in that case.”
Gaithlin’s smile made a weak return in spite of her simmering panic; their riotous beginnings notwithstanding, she was coming to like him. His mannerisms and wit were a good deal like Christian’s.
“As you say, sire,” she said quietly, a true sense of urgency grasping her as her mind moved to the journey homeward. “Allow me to collect a few possessions and my son and we shall be on our way.”
“Your son?” Quinton looked tremendously confused. “You… you have a son?”
Already halfway to the shelter, she paused to nod at his inquiry. “The lad who stabbed you,” she said remorsefully. “And I do apologize. You can blame Christian for his protective instincts; he’s quite intent on mimicking your brother in every way.”
Quinton’s gaze moved to the bold young boy, standing in the doorway to the shelter. “Christ,” he muttered. “You must have been a child yourself when he was born. Is he a bastard?”
Gaithlin managed to spare a small laugh, rubbing her hand across Malcolm’s scratchy scalp as she moved into the shack. “I don’t know. He’s an orphan.”
Scowling with confusion, Quinton opened his mouth to demand clarification when the woods around him suddenly came alive with soldiers and horses. For a split second, he was terrified that Jasper had returned to make sure Jean’s orders had been carried out until he caught a closer glimpse of the chargers invading the moon-lit Galloway clearing.
Worn, weary chargers.
Abruptly, he realized he was not gazing upon St. John troops; he’d seen these steeds before, many a time in the heat of battle. In fact, he could practically count the scars he had inflicted upon a particularly beaten brown destrier as the animal thundered within close range.
Quinton’s sword was drawn before he took another breath, realizing with sickening certainty that he would have almost preferred for the uninvited chargers to have been St. John mounts. In fact, he would have chosen to defend himself against his cousin’s accusations of betrayal rather than face the incoming tide of worn, battered men clearly intent on doing him great harm.
De Gare men.
Inside the shelter, Gaithlin emerged from the shack when she felt the ground beneath her shake with the thunder of hooves. The first sight that greeted her startled eyes was a knight in dingy armor bearing down on Quinton. Swords clashed, horses screamed, and Gaithlin was vaguely aware that she had yelped in terror, clutching Malcolm protectively. When it was all over, the mounted knight lay on the ground in
a dying heap and Quinton loomed over him, preparing to deliver the merciful final blow.
Gaithlin bolted from the shelter, moving in Quinton’s direction just as another charger came tearing through the trees. Before Gaithlin was able to reach Quinton and the downed knight, she was startled by a piercing scream that sliced heavily through the still night air; a most familiar scream. She didn’t have to see the individual it came from.
Already, she knew.
‘Truth is often greater than the need,
Weighing the heart against the head…’
Are we not creatures of passion over reason?’
~ Chronicles of Christian St. John
Vl. XI, p. CXVII
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Nay, Mother! Do not kill him!”
Gaithlin was unable to make it to Quinton fast enough. Alicia was hovering over the grounded knight, her heavy sword clutched with two hands. Confused and caught up in the battle for his life, Quinton ducked Alicia’s down parry and leapt to the opposite side of the knight he had wounded, his sword raised offensively as Alicia reined her charger around the supine de Gare knight.
“Mother, stop!” Gaithlin screamed again, rushing up on the scene. Thrusting herself in front of Quinton, she put up her hands and narrowly avoided being sliced. “Do not kill him! Mother, listen to me!”
Gasping and choking on her terror and grief, Alicia’s sword fell to the moist Scot earth as she clumsily dismounted her steed, falling to her knees beside the downed knight. “Eldon!” she cried, noting that the man had been mortally wounded in the abdomen. “My God, he’s killed Eldon!”
Mouth agape with astonishment and grief, Gaithlin maintained her protective position in front of Quinton as a company of de Gare men swarmed about the clearing. Still grasping Quinton’s arm, she took a few halting steps towards her hysterical mother.
“Mother…!” Initial shock diminishing, Gaithlin was torn between great delight at her mother’s appearance and deep sorrow for Eldon’s fate. “How did you find me?”
Weeping unashamedly, Alicia clutched Eldon’s hands to her breast. “He was going to save you personally from the Demon,” she sobbed. “Oh, my sweet adoring knight. What have I done to you? Has your devotion to me finally brought about your demise?”
Wrestling against a plethora of surging emotions, Gaithlin put aside her questions for the moment to focus on a most sorrowful event; obviously, her mother was incapable of responding rationally and she released her hold on Quinton, kneeling on Eldon’s opposite side.
“He was a great knight, mother,” she said softly. “He loved you a great deal.”
“I will always love her a great deal,” Eldon’s voice was barely a whisper. In spite of his fading life and strength, he managed to turn his head in Gaithlin’s direction. With shaking hands, Alicia raised his visor and began to sob anew at his deathly pale face. Soft brown eyes focused on Gaithlin and she smiled, gently. “ ’Tis good to see you again, my lady.”
“ ’Tis good to see you, too,” she murmured, touching his exposed cheek. “I am so sorry, Eldon. Allow me to look at your wound; mayhap it is not as bad as it seems.”
Feebly, Eldon shook his head. “Nay, lady, it is indeed mortal. In fact, I cannot feel my legs any longer.”
Alicia whimpered, weeping softly into Eldon’s mailed hands. Turning his attention from Gaithlin, he gently shushed his distraught lover. “No tears, Alicia. This is not our ending. We shall undoubtedly meet again in the fields of Paradise.”
Removing her face from his hands, she moved to unlatch his helm. As the protection fell away and Gaithlin carefully pulled it free, Alicia kissed her dying lover with infinite tenderness, sobbing pitifully as he responded weakly.
“Forgive me, Eldon,” she whispered, feeling the last of his heated breath on her face. “I… I was so foolish. I have loved you ever so long but I have been too frightened to tell you.”
He smiled faintly, the numbness in his legs moving up his torso. “I know,” he murmured thickly. “Alex never returned your love and you were too fearful to expose your heart to rejection again, even though you were fully aware of my love for you. Truly, my love, there is nothing to forgive.”
Alicia’s sobs were calming as she kissed him repeatedly, touching him gently with shaking hands while he still possessed life. “I should have married you long ago. Now I shall forever curse my stupidity.”
Drawing a long breath, Eldon’s eyes closed as he slowly succumbed to the advancing paralysis. “Mayhap it is better this way. I should not like for you to have been widowed twice in a lifetime.”
“I am already widowed twice in my heart,” Alicia breathed as she stared into his ghostly face. “Open your eyes, Eldon. Open your eyes and tell me that you love me one last time. I shall live on it the rest of my life.”
Weakly, Eldon’s brown eyes emerged from his heavy lids. Staring into Alicia’s lovely face, his lips tugged with a final smile. “I love you, my darling Alicia. For always will I love you.”
As Gaithlin watched with tears in her eyes, Eldon slipped silently into the realm of death with Alicia collapsed against his chest. Listening to the sobs of her mother, she rose to unsteady feet and turned to Quinton. Her expression, the depths of her sorrow and turmoil, stabbed him through the heart, feeding his own sense of grief. Grief that his brother would soon be facing the very same circumstance.
“I had no choice, my lady,” he whispered, feeling no guilt that he had killed the knight in order to preserve his own life. “He was intent on killing me. I had to defend myself.”
Gaithlin nodded, wiping at the tears coating her cheek. “I know,” she murmured, turning one last time to gaze upon Eldon’s still form and listening to her mother’s sobs. “Merciful Heavens, Quinton, I refuse to be reduced to a grieving, quivering wreck at my husband’s demise. We must move immediately to save him; surely there is no time to waste.”
Quinton could feel her gravity mingling with her own. Moving to sheath his bloodied sword, he found himself distracted from his urgency as Alicia struggled to her feet, glaring malevolently into his guarded eyes. Even in the moonlight, he could see the hatred.
“Are you satisfied, Demon?” she seethed wildly. “You have killed my beloved and for that you shall surely perish!”
“I am not the Demon, madam,” Quinton replied calmly.
Shaking with fury and grief-fed confusion, Alicia retrieved her sword and stepped carefully over Eldon’s prostrate form. “Then if you are not the Demon, I would have the pleasure of knowing the man who I am about to kill.”
As Gaithlin put herself between her advancing mother and Quinton, the St. John knight put his hand gently on her arm to reassure her that he could well handle the situation.
“I am Quinton St. John,” he said quietly. “And I would not have had to kill your… knight had he not attacked me first. What I did, I accomplished in self-defense only.”
Pale and quaking, Alicia momentarily halted her advance. Confusion mingled with her sorrow-stricken expression as she pondered the knight’s calm words. But it did not deter her sense of justice, her need to kill that man that had killed her lover; unsheathing her weapon, she lifted the blade in his direction.
“Raise your weapon,” she said, her voice trembling. “If you do not, I will kill you where you stand. Know that I have no sense of mercy this day.”
“Mother,” Gaithlin admonished softly. “Please… hasn’t there been enough death today? I am desperately sorry for Eldon’s death; you know I am. But I need your help. Please.”
Alicia was still focused on Quinton. “I am helping you,” she assured her. “I will do away with your St. John captor and obtain vengeance for Eldon in the process.”
“Mother, listen to me,” Gaithlin thrust herself between her mother and Quinton once again. “This killing must end, do you hear? This knight killed Eldon in self-defense but what you are doing is pure vengeance, just as father would have done. Is that what you have truly become now? My father, k
illing simply because you know of no other way to express your grief? The knight has explained to you that he was defending himself. If he had not defended himself, Eldon would have surely killed him first.”
Alicia was all but ignoring her daughter. “Then he would have saved me the trouble.”
Gaithlin took the risk of grabbing her mother, trying not to get stabbed in the process. “Mother, no!” she snapped. “This knight must live. I need him if I am going to save my husband!”
It took Alicia a moment to realize what her daughter had said. When her words dawned, she looked at Gaithlin with a huge degree of shock. “Husband?” she repeated, lowering her weapon. “What on earth are you talking about?”
Gaithlin swallowed hard. She gazed down at the woman who had spent the past ten years of her life fighting in her husband’s stead. Gaithlin knew that wasn’t her mother’s true nature; the woman did it because it had been expected of her, because she thought it was what Alex would have wanted. But it wasn’t her true nature. Alicia was inherently peaceful, a woman who would rather raise her rabbits or tend a garden than wield a sword. That was the mother that Gaithlin knew. She put her hand on her mother’s forearm.
“Please listen to me, because it is very important,” she said softly. “It is true that Christian St. John violated St. Esk to abduct me. It is true that his father told him to hold me captive so that he could blackmail Winding Cross. I am assuming you know all of this already ’else you would not be here.”
Alicia was gazing at her daughter with unsteady eyes. “Jean sent a missive informing us of such things,” she said. “Then a woman came to us – her name was the Lady Margaret du Bois – who told us that the Demon had abducted you. She offered to find out where he had taken you so that we could rescue you.”
Gaithlin’s brow furrowed. “Margaret du Bois?” she repeated, confused. When she glanced at Quinton to see if he knew what her mother was talking about, the man nodded faintly.
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