“To those who are dead and rotted, to those who have demanded too much of you.” Gawain laid a fingertip across my lips when I would have argued with him. His gaze was solemn. “Perhaps I am too selfish, but you are not selfish enough. What do you desire, Evangeline? What do you wish, if you could pursue any path you chose, if you were unburdened by responsibilities and duties?”
“I am not so unburdened.”
“If you were.”
I looked away, fearing that he had glimpsed my unwelcome urge to journey far, that he had spied my rebellious urge to forget Inverfyre. “It is a foolish question. I am so burdened and always will be. I have no right to desire any path other than the one demanded of me by my birthright.”
How odd that my voice did not resonate with the conviction it once had carried.
Gawain laid a hand upon my shoulder. “Your chance is here, Evangeline. Your opportunity has come to make what you will of your days.”
I bit my tongue and looked to my hands. Gawain was wrong, though part of me yearned to agree with him. I knew my duties, I knew that nothing would have halted my forebear Magnus Armstrong from achieving his dream and thus nothing should halt me. I knew that I must exhaust every possibility before abandoning Inverfyre to the MacLaren clan, even if I must die in the attempt.
I could not persuade a man like Gawain Lammergeier of the necessity of such a course, so I said no more.
Gawain spoke lightly then, as if he knew he had pressed too much. “I must admit, Evangeline, that I did linger at our host’s board for longer than there was need to do so.”
I glanced at him, wondering what jest he played now. “Indeed?”
“Indeed.” Gawain grinned, mischief personified, and pulled off his tabard, leaving his hair rumpled. “The man told no lie. His daughters were gorgeous creatures, all long hair and sweet faces and breasts!” He shook his head as if marveling anew, then cupped his hands before himself. “Breasts as round and ripe as…as pomegranates!” He winked at me. “Which reminds me—do I not deserve a reward for saving you from drowning?”
I cast the wooden bowl at him. “Cur!”
Gawain laughed. “Why not frolic abed until we make Ravensmuir, that we might better remember each other’s charms?”
“There is no need.”
“What if you have not yet conceived that child?”
“I have!”
“Let us be certain.” He whispered something that made my ears burn. I could not imagine what ailed him, for he had never been so coarse of speech in my presence. Perhaps he showed his true nature finally. Perhaps I should be glad to know the ruffian he was.
I retreated across the loft. I was vexed with Gawain and did not trouble to hide it. “We both know that we have used each other for our own ends and no more. Let us be done with the lie of that. You do not need to couple with me to sate my pride.”
Gawain’s gaze flickered, and I wondered then if I had responded precisely as he had intended. He took his cloak without another word and bedded down on the far side of the loft. It was not long until I heard his breathing slow, though I lay awake, yearning for what I had denied myself.
The reckless side of me could have had the upper hand for one last time this night, for the demure and proper Evangeline would reign for the rest of my days and nights.
But it was too late.
Indeed, I could not help but wonder whether Gawain had contrived to annoy me to ensure that we did not meet abed.
But then, he would only have done as much if he had a care for something other than his own satisfaction, and I knew that was not the case. No, he was a knave and a scoundrel, as I had known from the outset, and he was simply confident enough in my presence to believe that I accepted him as he was.
I wished belatedly that he had not shared this view with me, that we could have parted with my illusion of his character intact, then reminded myself that I had been the one to request his honesty.
It was cold comfort that Gawain himself had warned me that I might not like what Honesty showed. I thumped the straw of my makeshift pillow, tossed and turned, and tried desperately to sleep.
I waited until I heard the first goats bleating, my sense of purpose complete. Mercifully, Gawain slept even when I rose, so there was no need for an awkward parting. I stared down at him as I dressed, knowing that I could never change the manner of man he was. Indeed, I had no desire to do so—had he been a sober and solemn man of honor, he could never have unbridled my passion as he did. I would have his son and he would never see the child, never see me again.
What we had had would have to be enough.
I studied him as I refastened my garments, then leaned close to kiss his cheek. I could not bring myself to touch him, lest he awakened, so took a deep breath of his scent to sustain me for what might be many years of solitude, or worse, dutiful coupling.
Then I repeated my original crime against Gawain—I stole his saddle and his horse, the garments he had lent to me and his saddlebag with the relic within it. I left him his purse, though I stealthily removed my mother’s crucifix.
I felt unexpectedly heartsick as I rode away from Aberfinnan and the man who had awakened a passion I had not known I possessed. I rubbed away tears with my fingertips, but rode on, unable to deny my responsibilities.
All—my forebears, my kith and my kin, the villagers dependent upon me and my father before me—demanded that I grant my all to reclaim my legacy.
Regardless of the cost.
It was evening by the time I reached Inverfyre again, and the hills were quiet. Dark clouds gathered anew, threatening yet another downpour. I did not have much time to find the aid I needed desperately. I raced down the winding path I knew so well, turned the last curve and expected full well to find Adaira’s hut.
But there was nothing there. I dismounted and retraced my steps, fearing I had taken a wrong turn even as I doubted it could be done.
I heard the falcons cry then and saw them circling above me. This was no good sign. Indeed, as I listened with care, I heard a hunting party drawing closer.
The hills had been quiet because they were full of watchful eyes. I had foolishly assumed that all were busy elsewhere, but they were busy watching for me. I had been spied and I would be returned to Inverfyre’s keep to face my fate.
I did not imagine that Alasdair would be merciful. Sweat ran down my spine at the sound of the hounds, barking and whimpering, crushing the undergrowth as they sought me out. They were close, too close.
Adaira could grant me refuge. I moved with haste, my gaze darting from this crooked tree to that bent one, to the oak that marked this turn to…
To the deep shadow where Adaira’s abode should have been.
I turned in place, incredulous, but her hut was gone as surely as if it had never been. The shadows were deep and murky here, almost impenetrable. I peered into the forest and could discern the outlines of trees that I should not have been able to see for the hut itself.
I licked my lips as the men shouted, directing the dogs toward me. I could hear the horses now, their hooves pounding on the path. The dogs began to bark with renewed vigor and I knew they were upon my scent. I sent out a silent plea to the woman who had been my confidante, begging her to aid me.
But Adaira did not reveal herself.
The forest brooded, holding its secrets, every hare hidden deeply in its burrow, every bird silenced by the echoes of the hunt. I felt watched, observed by more than hawks and hounds, under the scrutiny of a hidden woman.
My pounding heart seemed to be the sole sound of the forest at this moment. I turned one more time, even as I knew it was futile, unable to understand why Adaira betrayed me.
Then my toe struck something.
Whatever it was glittered as it rolled. I fell upon all fours to pursue it, knowing it was not of the forest itself. I reached into the underbrush and seized its smooth coolness, my heart nigh stopping when I opened my hand before my own eyes.
It was the vial that Adaira had giv
en to me and it was still full.
I eyed the forest with newfound understanding. As I had rejected Adaira’s counsel, so she now rejected me. This was no accident. Her hut was not truly gone. I had always felt that her abode was neither in this world or of it—to evade me, she had chosen to pull it and herself deeper into the shadows. She had disappeared beyond the veil between the worlds.
She had spurned me. I had betrayed her trust and thus my access to her was denied.
Fury burned hot within my chest that she could so abandon me. I straightened, closed my fist over the cold vial, and then flung it with all my force into the shadows where her hut should have been. It collided with something and shattered, though I could not have said whether it struck a tree or a wooden wall I could not see.
“You are wrong, Adaira!” I cried, caring nothing if the hounds heard me. It was already too late to flee. “I will bear this child and we shall both live to tell of it.”
There was no reply, but I had expected none.
I spun, shoulders squared and chin high, just as the first dogs broke from the cover of the forest. They bayed with delight at the sight of me, the men and their horses thundering fast behind them. I stood like a woman graven of stone and waited.
When I spied Niall leading the hunting party, I felt that my plan had been blessed by a force greater than any of us. There was but one tale I could tell, but one wager I could make.
The seventh son had to be born legitimately to the Laird of Inverfyre to fulfill the prophecy. That my scheme would give Niall what he desired, as well as save my life and that of my unborn child, was no small thing. I folded my hands over my belly, tried to swallow the lump in my throat and stepped forward.
The hounds barked as they circled me, snapping that I not stray too far. Then the horses came to a halt around me, their heads tossing and nostrils flaring. Alasdair took the fore, Ranald beside him, but I turned my gaze upon Niall. Even I, who had no tender feelings for him beyond the legacy of affection from our shared childhood, had to admit that he was a fine looking man.
“Evangeline,” Niall said with clear disappointment. “You should not have tried to escape. Matters will only be worse for you now.”
“I could do nothing else, Niall,” I said, casting my voice so that none should miss what I said. “I could not let our unborn child be killed so easily as that.”
The men gasped and exchanged glances. Alasdair’s lips tightened to a grim line and he urged his horse forward.
“The heir to Inverfyre is cosseted in my belly,” I declared boldly. “It is true that I took a lover while Fergus yet breathed, for Fergus yearned for a son. I took a lover with the blessing of Fergus, for he said that Inverfyre had need of an heir.”
“But the stranger…” Alasdair began to protest.
I interrupted him, knowing that he would disavow my child’s legacy if Gawain was known to be the babe’s father. “The stranger was a convenient scapegoat, no more than that. My lover rides among you.”
As they slanted glances at each other, I walked toward Niall. I reached up and laid my hand over his, willing him to support the lie I had to tell to save my child and my home.
“Wed me, Niall, and ensure that the child we have already wrought is not bastard-born.”
An Unlikely Knight
Gawain
XIV
I awakened alone and devoid of the Titulus, yet again.
All that lingered of Evangeline was her sweet scent upon my chemise, the indent of her figure in the straw. I peered over the lip of the loft, not truly surprised to find my horse gone, as well.
Had I not warned her away from me? Had I not ensured that she was disgusted with my vulgarity? I know the look of a woman whose heart is softening to the point that she believes me capable of some misguided nobility—though I had never expected pragmatic Evangeline to regard me thus, she had done so after I pulled her from the lake.
It would not do for her to have tender feelings for me, the greatest rogue to ever cross her threshold. Matters had been acceptable so long as we made a fair exchange—my seed for the Titulus, for example—and indeed, I had admired her ability to consider amorous relations like trading agreements.
But that had ended when we escaped the Hole. Indeed, the admiration and gratitude in her gaze had terrified me. I knew myself well enough to recognize that I was not a man for whom she should care.
And I had shown myself sufficiently common to ensure my point was taken. It was remarkable, for I could have spent a pleasant night betwixt the lady’s thighs, but had denied my own pleasure to protect her heart.
Chivalry, which I had long believed to be dead and gone from this world unlamented, had proven to be hidden in the most unlikely of places—it had been nestled in my very marrow, and had revealed itself at a most inconvenient time.
I saw now why I had always avoided noble deeds—I had slept alone, awakened alone, been relieved of my valuables, and all because of my own misguided urge to warn the lady away from me. Gallantry, in my opinion this morn, was of less merit than most men believed.
I dressed, then leaped from the loft to the stable floor. I opened the door, knowing I should depart, but leaned against the frame instead, letting the mist of the morning surround me. It was early, the sky faintly gray.
There was no sign of Evangeline, who was clearly long gone. I should have been pleased that she took my warning with such alacrity, but instead, a gloom was cast over my mood.
A rooster strolled the perimeter of this humble clearing, tilted his head to regard the sky, and decided to delay his summons. When I looked back over the hills, I could faintly discern the silhouette of Inverfyre’s tower. I narrowed my eyes and watched the hawks circling that remote place and fancied that I could hear their distant cries.
There was no doubt where Evangeline had gone. I should have already been walking in the opposite direction, yet I lingered, watching the morning sun touch that cursed tower. A year ago—indeed, a month ago!—I would have abandoned both relic and woman, continuing upon my merry way. On this day, though, I hesitated to do so. Indecision was a novelty for me, so I considered both it and its import.
Mine was no longer a concern with retrieving what I considered to be my own. I had surrendered the quest for more valuable relics than the Titulus in the past when they proved less difficult than this to claim. My brother Merlyn was still alive, which contributed to my diminished desire for the Titulus. It was likely that Merlyn could be persuaded to part with other relics gathered by our father and me.
Indeed, he had already done so. I had ridden south this winter and made a considerable trade with my brother’s consent. Given that Merlyn had abandoned the family trade, there were relics of dubious origins that he certainly preferred to not have in his possession. I had no doubt that a few more trips would ensure that I still acquired my villa in Sicily.
I recalled all too well Evangeline’s admission of why she had initially seduced me. It had been so dark in the dungeon that I had had only the tremor of her voice to assess her emotions. I had heard her uncertainty, and her hope.
I remembered too my own shiver of mingled delight and dread. A child! My child. Our child. In past times, I would have nigh climbed the walls of that dungeon unaided to avoid any news that I was to be a father. Such confessions oft were followed by expectations and obligations, responsibilities that I could live well enough without.
Revulsion had not risen in me, though, when Evangeline spoke. It was remarkable. Perhaps it had been that none might overhear her, perhaps it had been that the lady herself could not see my response, perhaps because Evangeline had had all that she expected of me. Perhaps one baby girl had opened my eyes to possibilities. She had been a cursed amount of trouble, that child, but her smile had made me forget much of it.
I reminded myself that Ysabella would not accept another child from my hands, convinced as she was that she already sheltered one of my bastards. Yet it was not any perceived obligation to that child,
or even a desire to look upon it, that drew my gaze to Inverfyre’s tower.
I closed my eyes, hearing Evangeline’s protestations anew, aching at her naive insistence that justice must be served. She was new to the challenge of living outside the law and burdened by her own inability to see the wickedness in others. I had seen how shocked she was by her incarceration.
She would step directly into the fire, unaware of what she risked until it was too late. She would believe that the truth was of import. I shook my head at such folly.
For this time, Evangeline’s opponents would not err. They would kill her immediately and before witnesses to ensure that she could not escape or foil their plans again.
I could not permit that to happen. I could not permit this lady of stalwart will stumble so fatally.
Evangeline was the reason why I would return to Inverfyre. Make no mistake, this was no lasting change in me. The goddess Fate had merely mistaken me for a man of honor and, despite the odds, had persuaded me to make a chivalrous choice rather than a selfish one.
Indeed, I felt responsible for Evangeline’s situation. Having made too persuasive an argument that I was an unreliable and heartless scoundrel, I had inadvertently convinced the lady to retreat to Inverfyre rather than continue to Ravensmuir with me.
I had long suspected that scruples were troublesome and thus had always ensured that I not cultivate any. It was no consolation to find my suspicions correct.
My every instinct told me it was fool’s errand to pursue Evangeline and that either of us would be fortunate to escape Inverfyre again alive. My gut told me that this was no longer my concern—the lady could fend for herself well enough. My desire to survive, which had always served me well, told me to flee for Ravensmuir while I yet could and leave this land far behind me.
But I turned back to collect my few remaining belongings, knowing full well that I would not go to Ravensmuir this morn.
All's Fair in Love and War: Four Enemies-to-Lovers Medieval Romances Page 52