All's Fair in Love and War: Four Enemies-to-Lovers Medieval Romances

by Claire Delacroix

  “And yet you did not hesitate to leave Inverfyre without your drop-spindle,” he teased.

  “I was hopeless with the task. My mother finally allowed that I could watch the falconer.”

  “Not aid him?”

  “That would have been inappropriate.” I smiled in recollection. “But Tarsuinn’s father let me feed the birds and sing to them, he even let me choose their feeding songs.”

  “You were lucky to have had such companionship.”

  “Indeed.” I wondered then whether Gawain had been raised alone, without friends or family other than his father, whether that accounted for his desire to remain alone.

  Had he ever been loved? Though my parents had had their harsh moments and I had oft felt unappreciated due to my gender, I had known without doubt that I was loved.

  I appreciated that now as I never had before.

  Gawain rose to stand in the shallows, his garments dripping. He helped me to gain my footing, my hands held firmly in his, then bent and kissed me so boldly that I no longer felt the chill. “I should have guessed that you were one to win your way despite the odds. I have an unholy affection for willful, charming women.”

  He laughed and I laughed with him, my heart sinking a little even as I did so. His words made it more than clear that I was but one of many, neither first nor last in his affections.

  Oddly, I felt less appreciation for his honesty than I had before.

  To my astonishment, Gawain’s horse was tethered in the shadows of the woods, his pack and saddle at the ready. The steed nickered as Gawain offered me dry chausses, a chemise, and a tabard.

  “My apologies, but I tend to not carry women’s garb.”

  But I was still amazed that he had been so prepared. “You knew you would leave the keep this way.”

  “I guessed that matters might not proceed smoothly. Your people are somewhat inclined to take insult with theft.” He patted his saddlebag as he tied it to the saddle, his expression so satisfied that I eyed it with suspicion. I touched it once I was dressed, knowing that round shape all too well.

  “The Titulus!” I gaped at him, finding myself matching his triumphant smile with one of my own. “But how? But when?”

  He flicked a playful finger across the tip of my nose. “I was here a day earlier than any in the keep knew. I had a matter to resolve before I declared myself to you.”

  “But…”

  “I learned upon my last visit here that a hasty departure can be an asset.” Gawain lifted his finger and I heard the distant groan of Inverfyre’s gates opening. I met his gaze with alarm. “They saw us make the shore. I suspect the chase will not be readily abandoned.”

  “Not with Dubhglas so sorely injured. Alasdair will want blood for vengeance.”

  “Dubhglas.” Gawain rolled his eyes. “How could a man be expected to live a life of any merit burdened with such a name? I would have done him a favor to have killed him in truth.”

  “You do not mean that!”

  He laughed merrily, clearly liking that I could discern the truth of his intent.

  A roar of outrage carried to our ears just then, interrupting our jest. I leaped into the saddle, anxious to be gone. Gawain swung into the saddle behind me and gave the beast his heels. It trotted, cautious of its footing along the shore and I knew it had need of encouragement.

  “There!” I declared. “There is a path through the woods to the road. It is narrow but passable. Lead the beast to it.”

  “I cannot discern any passage,” Gawain said, pushing the reins into my hands. “You guide the beast.”

  I faltered for words, so surprised was I that he entrusted his fate to my hands. The men of my life have insisted upon leading the horses or guiding the way, even when they knew not what they did or where they went.

  “Surely, you jest,” I managed to say.

  “Surely not. You know the way and I do not.” Anxiety tinged his tone. “I remind you that our lives hang in the balance, Evangeline. Do you mean to make haste or not?”

  I laughed and gripped the reins with delight. I am no common rider, for I was fairly raised in the saddle. All the same, no man had ever trusted his fate or his horse to me.

  Until Gawain. My heart thudded.

  I nudged his feet out of the stirrups and half-stood in them myself, leaning forward to speak to the beast. I used my knees as I had been taught. The horse was well-trained, taking my command with ease. It quickly discerned the path I followed and increased its pace without much encouragement from me. It was sure-footed for its short stature.

  “Praise be that you have such a steed,” I said to Gawain. I cast a glance over my shoulder as we gained the road.

  He smiled sunnily at me. His grip was firm upon my hips, but he seemed at ease. “I have developed a fondness for the creature’s steadfast determination.”

  Determination it had, and speed as well. I cried out encouragement as the beast leaped to the dirt road, then dug my heels into its sides.

  It ran like the wind, despite its double burden. I looked back to find Alasdair far behind us and laughed as I coaxed the steed to greater speed. We were escaping!

  I was truly free! The wind unfurled my wet braid and ran its fingers through the length of my hair. The steed’s muscles moved beneath me with vigor, Gawain held fast to my hips and I felt more alive than I had in all my days. We would not only survive this day, but we had the Titulus.

  For the first time in many years, I felt invincible. I knew that I could restore Inverfyre to my hand, I knew that I could clear my name and bring the truth to light. I knew that Fergus’ kin could not stop me—and I knew that I needed no man to aid my cause. I would resolve this myself and reclaim Inverfyre for my son.

  Given that, I was in a mood to celebrate. I liked being with Gawain—it was his confidence in me that fed my confidence in myself. I liked his uncommon blend of ease and determination. I liked how bold and unrestrained I felt in his presence—indeed, I felt that I was myself solely in his presence. It was clear that my desire for him was returned.

  But it was also clear that he was not a man who would undertake my quest to regain my family holding. He had relics to steal, maidens to ravish and pomegranates to savor in distant Sicily.

  On this night, though, a widow would ravish him and give us both a memory to warm the flesh when we faced cold nights alone. I wanted to savor this last night with Gawain.

  It was the least I could offer the scoundrel who had just saved my life.

  It was falling dark when we spied the roofs of a village ahead. “Do you know it?” Gawain asked.

  I shook my head. “We are too far from Inverfyre’s walls. This must be the Comyn’s land and one of their villages.”

  “Hide your hair,” Gawain counseled. I tucked my hair into my tabard and pulled his hood over my head. “Remain silent and keep your head low.”

  “None will know me here, especially in such garb as this.”

  Gawain’s lips thinned. “Indulge me.” Then he gave me a squeeze. “And dismount to lead the horse, if you will. People will suspect if I tend to my squire and not the other way around.”

  “I will not be your squire!”

  “You will if you mean to sleep untroubled this night and ride onward.” He grinned then, enjoying my dissatisfaction too well.

  I gave him a look fit to curdle milk as I did his bidding, for I suspected that he enjoyed himself overmuch. I trod before the tired beast, my head down and face hidden, and Gawain began to sing.

  He feigned drunkenness with appalling ease, and the villagers spilled from their homes to look upon us. “Is this Edinburgh yet, lad?” he roared.

  “No, milord,” I mumbled dutifully. My sour mood did not last long with his antics and I had to fight the urge to laugh.

  “Then, where in the name of God are we?” He stood in the stirrups and waved a hand at the village. Praise be that his steed was a sensible one—or accustomed to him—for it walked onward, oblivious to his behavior. “An
d where shall a man find a decent cup of brew? God in heaven, will we have to spend another night outside of the king’s walls?”

  “Yes, milord. I fear as much, milord.”

  “You!” He pointed at a man who seemed to stand slightly forward from the assembled people. “You look to be a man of resource.” Gawain flicked a coin in the man’s direction and it flashed in the last light of the sun. “Find me an innkeeper, or failing that, a soul with a keg of ale and an empty pallet for a guest.”

  The man bit the coin, his eyes widening slightly at the quality of the silver, then he bowed. “I shall host you myself, my lord, and in the same fashion as I would host the king himself, for another of these coins.”

  “Have you meat for your board this night?”

  “Venison stew, my lord.” This he said boldly, as if asserting his right to hunt deer. He had no such right, for it was one granted to the nobility alone—but only a nobleman could demand compense for the crime.

  Perhaps this was why the man would seek Gawain’s favor, to ensure that no penalty was demanded.

  “It is said my wife makes the finest in all of Aberfinnan. And my stable has a loft filled with sweet straw. The structure is newly completed this very year and free of vermin.”

  Gawain, typically, was indifferent to minor crimes wrought against some absent or distant overlord. “Two coins it will be then,” he cried gaily. “And a third in the morn if my boy and I awaken unaccosted. You will not find my coin if you try to steal from me in the night—instead you will find my blade in your back. Are we understood?”

  The man stepped forward, his eyes narrowed. “You will find my blade in your back, my lord, if my daughters suffer a visit from you this night. Are we understood?” The villagers took a discrete step away from the man, their eyes wide at his boldness. Indeed, I was shocked that he would make such a demand openly.

  “Are they beautiful?” Gawain demanded.

  The man straightened. “As fair as a May morn.”

  “Then they may be the sole asset you own. Keep them as safe from others as you would from me.” Gawain dismounted and winked at me, as if in warning though I could not guess what he would say. “And you need have no fear of my desires, my good man, for I ensure that my appetites will be met when I travel abroad.”

  And he grinned as he slapped me on the buttocks. I flushed scarlet, knowing full well that those before us thought me to be a boy.

  The villagers were shocked and fascinated, no less that this visiting nobleman indulged himself with boys than that he openly admitted as much. The whispers began immediately, and I knew that I did not imagine that our host kept his distance as he took the horse’s reins.

  “It is splendidly sensible, you must admit,” Gawain confided to our would-be host, as if he would talk more about his preferences.

  Our host was disinclined to do so. “Of course, my lord.” The man bowed and strode away, leaving me fuming beside Gawain.

  “In this, you go too far…” I began hotly if beneath my breath.

  Gawain waved away my objection, then leaned closer, his eyes gleaming. “And how else would I ensure that none glimpsed your gender this night? How else would I ensure that we had no curious parties visiting our lodgings in the night? I have flashed coin and I am thief enough to know that there are more of my own kind in every corner of every land.”

  “I see,” I said primly, disliking that his tactic showed a measure of good sense.

  “You will follow the steed and see it brushed down, like the dutiful squire that you are,” Gawain continued softly, granting my ear a friendly cuff. “I shall take my meal with the family and bring yours to you, the better that you not be detected.”

  I was irked that he had matters well in hand, and that my part was so neatly consigned to the less amusing tasks that had to be done. I knew he was right and this only annoyed me further. A cup of ale and a bowl of stew before a warm fire would have suited me far better than brushing down a horse while my belly growled.

  “I would suggest you do not defy me,” Gawain said in a voice as smooth as fine silk. I met his gaze and found it piercingly green. He arched a fair brow, his expression making him look devilish indeed. “That murder that stains my blade? It was my own accomplice, in fact the boy who ensured that I escaped public execution. I could not have managed that escape alone, but he came to my aid most cunningly.”

  “But…”

  Gawain’s eyes narrowed. “Sadly, he was caught while we fled.”

  I stared up at him, holding his gaze and fearing what he would say.

  “And as a reward for his devoted loyalty to me, I abandoned him.” Gawain’s gaze never swerved from mine and I knew he told me the truth. “The villagers were a bloodthirsty crowd and one denied a hanging by my escape. I am certain Michel did not survive the day.”

  “You did not go back for him?” I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. “You did not try to save him?”

  Gawain smiled a chilly smile. “I saved my own hide instead. Indeed, I never looked back. There is honesty for you. There is the measure of the man with whom you have been allied. Do not forget this truth.”

  With that, he released my elbow and left me standing outside the village walls. He hailed our host and merrily made his way into that man’s abode, noisily proclaiming the beauty of the man’s daughters.

  My heart sank with every step he took. I had been warned and I knew it well.

  XIII

  When Gawain came to the stable, the light had faded almost to naught, though I could see his silhouette. He paused on the threshold, then made his way across the stables with care. He stroked the horse and spoke to it, then peered up at the loft. “Are you there?”

  “Have you drunk all the ale so soon as that?”

  Gawain chuckled, untroubled by my tone, and climbed nimbly to the loft. He bowed low. “I bring an offering of peace, if the lady will hear of it,” he teased.

  “It had best be a fine offering,” I said with a hauteur I did not quite feel. Indeed, my pulse already quickened at his proximity, though I knew I should heed his own warning.

  “Venison stew, bread and, remarkably, a cup of ale for your very own.”

  I fell upon the fare like a hungry wolf, unable to feign disdain before the prospect of a hot meal. The settling of food in my belly spread a heat that dissolved much of my resentment.

  Gawain peeled off his clothes in turn, looking about himself as I ate. “This is not as barbaric as I feared.”

  “Was that why you lingered in our host’s abode, to ensure your comfort?”

  He raised his brows, then settled beside me. “To allay their suspicions, more like.”

  “By drinking their ale?”

  “By spreading sufficient coin that they will feel no urge to gossip to strangers about us. It can make an alliance out of naught, the spending of coin.”

  “How much do you have?”

  Gawain dug in his purse, as if concerned with that very matter. “Enough to see us to Ravensmuir, at least. And there, our ways shall part forevermore.”

  It was Ravensmuir that had been my destination all those months ago, Ravensmuir where it was reputed I could find the stolen relic that I sought. I had looked but once upon its forbidding facade and known that my mission would be a failure.

  But the Fates had smiled and I had spied a golden-haired man riding south, riding with all haste away from Ravensmuir with a bundle beneath his arm. I had gambled on his identity and his burden, despite the years lost, and astonishingly, I had won the wager.

  Or had I? I studied his shadowed features, this man who could be both tender and callous, and knew that my wager had brought me far more than I had expected.

  “You will return to Sicily,” I guessed.

  Gawain nodded once. “My brother Merlyn can aid you in your petition to the king. His is an honorable soul—indeed, it could be said that all the good traits in our family were claimed by Merlyn afore I was conceived. You can trust Merlyn.” He
seemed untroubled by this, but I knew enough to suspect otherwise. He was too composed, his expression too carefully neutral.

  “I thought he had killed your sire. That is the rumor.”

  Gawain shrugged, his manner yet cool. “Beyond that, Merlyn is honorable. As you are neither my father nor any soul associated with him, you should be safe at Ravensmuir.”

  “And you?”

  He smiled tightly. “I shall leave, as you guessed.”

  I thought again of his earlier warning as to his foul character and wondered. I ate in silence, unable to believe that Gawain was as wicked as he would like me to think, but knowing all the same that we were not destined to be together.

  Oblivious to my musing, Gawain completed his inventory of the coins. Amber glinted between the folds of leather and I swallowed my mouthful of stew.

  “May I have the crucifix?”

  Gawain flicked a bright gaze my way. “It would be safer here, for the moment.” He secured it in his purse once again, then stretched out beside me.

  “But I would like to have it in my own grasp.”

  “Fear not, I will return it to you at Ravensmuir.” I near spilled the ale when he pressed a kiss to my shoulder, his eyes gleaming with devilry. “You have my most solemn pledge, Evangeline.”

  I regarded him, not knowing what to make of his playful mood. “You think me foolish to have a care for my family’s heirlooms and traditions.”

  Gawain sobered. “I think you care more for what others have insisted you should desire than for what you might desire yourself.”

  “It is the responsibility of any laird’s child to ensure that his legacy continues…”

  “What of your father’s own failures? What of the deterioration of Inverfyre’s fortunes, of your father’s choice to lie to his people?”

  “Do not malign my father!”

  “I note only that the legacy he granted to you was a damaged one, that the fault of Inverfyre’s state is not yours alone.”

  I straightened. “I have a duty…”