I swatted him, not content with this easy explanation, then seized the sleeves of his chemise in sudden recollection of my fear. “I saw the roof of the chapel fall, I saw it burn. I thought, I feared…”
Gawain kissed me swiftly, silencing me, and his arms tightened around me. “Some fled when Alasdair fell, others when the chapel roof began to burn. It was then that a trio of your own men came to my aid and we routed the last of them. We fought in a band to the portal.”
“But where are they? What fate befell them?”
Gawain held my gaze. “Niall’s corpse was yet there, as was the horse Adaira brought him upon. I could not believe the beast held its ground, but it seemed overwhelmed by its fear. We rallied around it and made our way to the gates, gathering men all the way.”
“You saw them all escaped,” I said beneath my breath.
Gawain shook his head. “Not all. Too many fell at Inverfyre, that much is certain.” He took a deep breath, the memory not easy even for him. “We managed to get the portcullis open, then those of us still standing escaped Inverfyre. The gatehouse caught fire behind us, the rope burned and the iron gate fell, sealing those within forever.” He gave me a squeeze. “They were mostly MacLarens or those already dead, Evangeline.”
I shuddered and buried my face in his shoulder. “And those you escaped with?”
“They went to bury Niall, for they could not leave him without a tribute. They said they would await your return in the forest.”
“So few,” I whispered.
“There were MacLarens in the woods as well,” Gawain counseled quietly. “There may be fewer men living on either side by this night.”
I sighed and felt again the weight of my failure.
“And what is this?” he asked, touching the welt upon my neck.
I winced but did not evade his gaze. “Alasdair seized the crucifix to hold me captive. I had to abandon it to escape him.”
“It was a small price to pay for your life.”
I blinked back tears and buried my face again in his shoulder. He smelled of wood smoke, of fire and devastation, but beneath that was the alluring scent of his own flesh.
Gawain stroked the back of my neck, his lips touching my brow. “Treachery is the hardest villain to guard against, Evangeline. You cannot blame yourself for the price rendered by your father’s choices. He was the one who welcomed Fergus. He was the one who accepted Fergus’ cook and counsel.”
He cupped my chin and lifted my face so that I met his gaze. He smiled at me so gently that my heart lurched. “You tried to fulfill the expectation of your parents, and indeed you achieved far more than any could have expected. You hold yourself to a higher standard than any other would dare, Evangeline. Credit yourself with what you valiantly achieved, and do not condemn yourself that there was a more formidable force arrayed against you.”
Something awakened in me as I held his compassionate gaze, something made me yearn to couple with him more boldly than ever we had. I had always held some measure of myself back when we met abed, I had never abandoned myself fully to our lovemaking. Now it seemed to me that restraint and decorum had served me poorly, that doing as was expected of me had borne no good results.
I was yet alive. I yet had a chance to live with vigor. A boldness claimed me then, a determination to live each moment to its greatest potential.
Gawain kissed me then, his touch kindling my newfound desire. I stretched to meet his embrace boldly, twining my fingers into his hair and urging him closer. I welcomed him with an enthusiasm I had never unleashed. My heart sang as he met me touch for touch, and truly, the heat between us burned with the bright vigor of the sun. I savored every moment of our powerful coupling, and that I regretted no deed I had done.
Indeed, on that morn on the forest floor, I soundly seduced the man who was not the scoundrel he would have had me believe.
“So?” Gawain demanded when we were sated and yet entangled with each other. I felt languid and warm, and the baby stirred deep within me, awakened perhaps by our activity. My belly was rounding now, not too much but more than ever it had done, though Gawain did not seem to find it unattractive. He trailed his fingers across it, tickling me playfully when I protested.
Our garments were unlaced and there were leaves caught in his hair after our lovemaking. My hair was unfurled and probably a ruin of knots, though I did not care. The unmistakable scent of desire tinged the air as I nestled closer to him and nibbled upon his neck.
Gawain caught his breath. “What of this Connor MacDoughall?”
“I suppose if curiosity was solely what kept you alive, I should tell you,” I teased.
“I suppose it would only be fitting.” Gawain kissed the tip of my nose.
“If I tell you, will you immediately expire?”
“I shall endeavor not to do so.”
“Connor was a scoundrel of no account,” I said, smiling all the while. “A rogue and a troublemaker, a seducer of innocents, and a deceptive selfish cur.”
“Ah, a man with whom I share certain common traits.” Gawain arched a brow before I could argue this. “What happened to him?”
“He was killed in a brawl in a tavern, ironically one in which he had no stake. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, as it is told, and rose to his feet with unfortunate timing.”
Gawain’s expression turned thoughtful. “It seems a hazard of this land for a man to find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“How so?”
He held my gaze steadily. “If I had not left Ravensmuir precisely when I did, you would not have been able to follow me to York.”
“And we should never have met in truth.” I braced my weight upon my elbow to stare down at him, unable to guess his mood. There seemed a coolness between us suddenly, as if he raised a barrier though I could not guess why. “Do you regret your timing?”
Gawain toyed with the leaf he pulled from my hair, avoiding my gaze. “Adaira said that Connor fathered the child of her daughter.”
I rolled my eyes, dismissive of this detail that took our conversation upon an undesirable path. “Connor sired many a child, for he was not hard upon the eyes and he could show a ready charm to a woman he desired.” I tapped a finger upon Gawain’s chest, determined to seize this chance to resolve matters between us. “I once thought that you and he were two of a kind, but you may be assured that I have learned the error of my conclusion.”
Gawain grimaced. “Perhaps you see only what you wish to see, not what truly is.”
“Perhaps I saw what you chose to show me, perhaps I now see the truth of the man behind the mask.”
Gawain looked up, his gaze cool. “Perhaps you have been deceived, as the women seduced by Connor were evidently deceived.”
I thought that he warned me away from him again but I was not inclined to accept such counsel. I shook my head with vigor, and leaned down to brush my lips across his. “Not so. I have seen the truth. I love you, Gawain Lammergeier, I love you for the man you are.”
I might have expected some sweet reply to my confession, but I was to have none. Instead of replying in kind, Gawain abruptly eased my weight from atop him. He was on his feet so swiftly that we might never have lain together, so occupied with lacing his chausses that I might not still be in his presence.
I felt soiled then, soiled like a whore dismissed after her services have been savored, and I was not amused.
I leaped to my feet in my turn and seized a handful of his chemise. I gave him a shake but he spared me only the merest glance. “Answer me!” I demanded. “I said that I love you, just as you are.”
I had never seen Gawain so agitated, this man who always showed such cool poise, but he laced his chausses with unholy haste.
“You should not,” he said, his voice hoarse.
I felt my eyes narrow. “Nonetheless I do.”
Gawain granted me a quelling glance. “Then, cease to do so.”
“What is this?”
I straightened, indignant. “I make no mistake…”
“You do. If any should know the truth of it, Evangeline, it is me and I say that you err.”
“It is you who err, you who would conceal your own feelings.” I was outraged that he should hide the truth from me. “Do you think I fail to see the import of your killing Alasdair to save me?”
“Alasdair is dead by Niall’s blade,” Gawain said through gritted teeth. “And even if you doubt that Niall’s ghost drove my hand, you cannot know whether I raised my blade to save you or to save myself. I am not a man that any woman of sense should love.”
I must have looked skeptical, for Gawain shoved a hand through his hair. He stepped back toward me, his gaze fixed on mine. He spoke with quiet urgency, though he kept a distance between us. “Heed this, Evangeline. My mother loved my father with all her heart and soul. Perhaps he even loved her at one time, I do not know, but it was of no import in the end.”
“You see?” I said with triumph, but Gawain shook his head.
“I do see,” he retorted. “For the truth of my father’s nature came to the fore—he left his honest trade in silks to trade in religious relics of dubious origins. He preferred the wealth and fame he found more easily with such trinkets, and did not care that he lied and stole to win it. That wealth drove him to greater and greater excess.”
“You are not your father.”
Gawain swallowed. “But I am his son. And you yourself have noted that I share traits with him.” He raised a fist between us, his gaze burning with rare intensity. “I watched him destroy her, Evangeline. I watched his sins weighed heavily upon her. I watched her try to change him, a thousand times in a thousand ways, but he was what he was, and even love could not change the truth of it.” His gaze bored into mine. “He ruined her, Evangeline, he fairly killed her. She loved him but that love brought her only torment.”
I was momentarily at a loss for words, a fact Gawain used against me.
“You are seduced by the reasoning of the heart,” he said harshly, “but as my mother learned, the heart gives unreliable counsel. Its advice in this matter will only bring you grief.”
“This is why you put no credence in marriage.”
Gawain shrugged and looked away. “She could have left him, if they had not been wedded. She could have wrought a new life for herself on some other shore, she could have even found happiness with a man who appreciated her for who she was. My mother was not an unattractive woman, nor was she bereft of charm. If anything, she loved too fully for her own good.”
I closed the distance between us. “If she loved your father truly, I doubt she would have left him, were they wedded or no.”
Gawain studied me and his features set with resolve. “Then love is a folly, if it makes a person disregard his or her own survival.”
I caught at his sleeve when he might have strode away. “And what of you? What have you done? You return to aid me time and again, regardless of the risk to yourself. You counsel me against pretty words and pledges, but your words always hold a warning that I should not rely upon you.”
“Because you should not.”
“But can you not see, Gawain? You are the sole person upon whom I can rely. You are the sole person who has never failed me.”
He looked at me then, and I saw the alarm in his eyes. “It is only a matter of time, Evangeline. I will spare myself the sight of you learning precisely the ilk of man I am.”
“I know the ilk of man you are,” I insisted. “I know that there is honor within you, though you have learned to hide it well. I know that you care for me, just as I see that you fear what might come of declaring as much.”
“You see what you desire to see,” he argued. “I am no knight come to save you from your fate, Evangeline.”
“While you ignore what you do not wish to see. This is no ending, Gawain, it is a beginning. We could wed. We could reclaim Inverfyre. You could live a life of honor…”
“Why? Why would I do such a thing?”
I straightened and held his gaze. “Because my love and companionship is worth the exchange. Because we would be happy together.” I thought for a moment that he was torn, that he might step forward and take my offer.
“How? How could you be happy without Inverfyre? I could drag you across Christendom and watch you pine for your birthright—that would ensure our match was fine.”
I ignored his sarcasm, for I knew it unwarranted. “Love will find a solution.”
“Perhaps you would prefer that we squat in the ruins of your home, perhaps even attempt to rebuild it. Even with success on your terms, you could watch me wither and fade for lack of adventure.” His words were bitter and his gaze was sharp. “Would that be fair compense to you for my father’s crimes against your father?”
I stepped forward and laid my hand upon his arm. “I love you and that is not so worthy of dismissal as you would imply.”
Instead of coaxing Gawain to my side, my words made him abruptly turn away. He tore his sleeve from my grip. “Then you are a fool to cling to such whimsy. There is nothing I can do to save you from yourself.”
I was so shaken by his coldness that I could not think of a protest in time. His gaze darkened, then he turned his back and stepped out of the shelter of trees to gruffly greet Tarsuinn and Malachy.
I was left alone in the forest’s shadows, devastated I had offered my all to Gawain and that it was not enough.
We walked then, walked to Ravensmuir. We had no other place to go and Gawain insisted that his brother would offer us protection. It was a long walk, and our sole consolation that the weather was fair. It was almost unseemly how robustly the land burst forth in spring’s garb, how lush and green the countryside became.
I remembered Inverfyre burning and knew no spring would come there this year. Indeed, we saw the dark cloud of smoke rise behind us for four days and wondered who was beckoned to see its origin. The destruction of my home and birthright was echoed by the yawning emptiness in my heart.
But Gawain and I spoke no more beyond a minimum of cordial civility. What else could be said?
We turned our backs upon the smoke from Inverfyre and walked. We avoided the road, uncertain whether we might be pursued, though there were no signs of it. When we begged for food, only Malachy or Tarsuinn showed themselves. I remained hidden at all times, at Gawain’s insistence, while he hung back after my warning that his height and fair hair would be readily remembered.
Matters were so strained between us that I abandoned any hope of a tender glance that would reveal the contents of his heart. If he loved me, he would give no sign of it. If he loved me, it mattered no more to him than his father’s love for his mother had mattered to either of them.
Perhaps my mother had spoken aright, that the Lammergeier were cursed by their very name. Scavengers and bone breakers, she had called them, but even knowing what I did now, I could not hate Gawain.
In a strange way, I respected him, for he knew what he was and accepted it. He knew that his essence could not be changed and he would deny the simple solution because it would prove less than adequate in the end. I could respect the nobility of his thinking, even knowing that he was wrong, even knowing that there was nothing I could do to shake his conviction.
We trudged east for fourteen days, and with each day, the land became more softly contoured, more welcoming, more cultivated. We saw more villages, more mills, and more monks. We skirted Edinburgh with difficulty, for all roads led to its gates. We slept less as the signs of habitation became more numerous and took to walking all night, napping during the days, hidden in some copse of trees. Our course was not a direct one, thus took longer than if we had walked openly.
At Edinburgh, we debated the merit of approaching the king, but Gawain counseled that none would heed us in our current ragged state. Better, he advised, to continue to Ravensmuir and make our appeal with Merlyn’s endo
rsement. I suspected that he spoke aright.
We followed the south coast of the Firth of Forth, passed the royal docks at Queensferry, circumvented the salt flats maintained by the monks, and had porridge from the nuns who fired tiles near North Berwick. When the coast turned south, the Firth having opened to the sea, the wind offered an invigorating bite.
On the fourteenth morn, when we halted to sleep, I could see a dark keep in the distance, perched on the lip of the sea. I did not sleep that day, merely rested, my gaze fixed upon Ravensmuir.
Upon sanctuary.
Twilight claimed the skies that night with a leisure that infuriated me. Gawain was restless, unhappy with the open stretch of land we had to transverse and the fullness of the moon. The skies were clear that night, adding to his displeasure. He insisted that we wait until night reigned fully, and hesitated even then.
“We cannot stay here all the night,” I said finally. “Look—Ravensmuir is but there! We shall arrive no sooner for not beginning.”
“I do not like it,” he said, frowning as he shook his head. “Something is amiss. I can smell it.”
“What you smell is the salt of the sea and the dung of the cows.”
“No, Evangeline, my instincts tell me that danger is near.”
I heaved a sigh, well aware that our two companions watched us closely. “My instincts tell me that a soft pallet and a hot meal are near. We gain nothing by the waiting, Gawain.”
With that, I lifted my hood and strode out of our hiding place. They followed, of course, for they could do nothing else. Gawain quickly overtook me to lead the way. We moved quickly, though there seemed to be no one abroad but the four of us. It rose to my lips to tease Gawain that his instincts failed him and indeed I tapped upon his shoulder to do so.
But when he glanced back, I saw in his eyes what was happening afore he shouted.
No!
“We are assaulted! Run!” Gawain flung me ahead of him even as he pulled his sword from its scabbard. I stumbled at the vigor of his push and glanced back.
All's Fair in Love and War: Four Enemies-to-Lovers Medieval Romances Page 61