“I bade you flee. Indeed, I asked you to pledge it to me.”
“But I did not.” Jacqueline lifted her chin undaunted. “Who would guard your blinded side, Angus, if not me?”
His gaze softened, and he whispered her name as if he knew not what to do with her. He frowned as he eyed the gash upon her cheek, and his touch was gentle as he eased the blood away with his thumb.
“Where else?” he demanded tersely.
“’Tis all.”
He shook his head in amazement. “Perhaps you truly are marked by the favor of God.”
“Angus!” she cried as a man rose abruptly behind him. Angus spun, the hilt of his blade in both hands as he swung it at his attacker. The man fell and Jacqueline averted her gaze. “Odin’s Scythe rings true,” he whispered, gripping the hilt of his father’s blade anew.
Angus seized her hand and made his way toward the door. Few men approached him, those who still stood either easing back against the walls or tending to the fire before it spread further. Jacqueline guarded Angus from behind, a small dagger he had poached for her held high.
In but a moment they were in the courtyard, fleeing for the gates. Too late, Jacqueline saw that the portcullis had been lowered and four men stood awaiting them there, blades drawn. The armed men smiled in anticipation of a fight.
“They tricked us!” she cried, realizing why they had been allowed to leave the hall. She looked back and saw the black smoke rising from the wooden roof of that building. Men were running with buckets of water, and already the flames smoldered.
“We are not dead yet,” Angus replied. He hastened her toward the far wall and lifted a ladder into place with a grunt while she guarded him with her dagger. Guards watched them but made no effort to intervene.
If Angus was troubled by this, he gave no sign of it. “Climb,” he bade her. “And for once in all your days, be biddable.”
Jacqueline assumed he had a plan. It must be a good one, for there were a number of sentries on the wall itself. They hastened closer as she watched. Several of the guards attacked from below once she and Angus had started to climb, and the ladder swayed as the men tried to tip it.
Angus descended anew and fought them, then scrambled back and hastened Jacqueline onward. She raced up the ladder, knowing he was fast behind her, but froze at the top.
A man’s booted foot was planted on the top rung. She swallowed and looked up. A large man and formidable opponent, he smiled coldly at her and brandished his blade. His smile widened as he pushed the ladder out from the wall with his foot.
Jacqueline glanced back to find that one man from below had pursued them up the ladder. Angus fought, but retreated rung by rung, until he was standing on the rung below her. Jacqueline cringed and hung on.
“Duck,” Angus muttered, the word so low as to be barely audible. “Now.”
Jacqueline hunched low immediately and Angus swung hard, slashing at the knees of the man on the wall above. The man shouted in surprise, danced backward, and lost his footing. He fell screaming, his cry ending with a splash.
Angus had already turned, though, slashing at his other opponent on the ladder below. That man faltered and retreated. Angus stamped on his hands on the rung below and the man flinched, then began to cry out in pain. Angus ground the boot heel into the man’s fingers and the man let go with a howl.
Jacqueline hastened from ladder to wall, Angus directly behind her, neither looking back. Angus paused at the summit, waited for their persistent attacker to crest the wall, then kicked the ladder away. It fell backward in a graceful arc and Jacqueline did not watch the man’s fate.
She had no chance. Sentries flooded toward them from the left and the right. Angus looked one way, then the other, apparently unable to decide his course.
“What shall we do?” she whispered.
But his indecisiveness was all a ploy. When the men moved to capture him, Angus caught Jacqueline around the waist and leaped off the wall.
The men collided with each other behind him.
Jacqueline screamed in shock and clung to Angus, only glimpsing his smile before he kissed her to silence.
Then the waters of the river closed over them and her heart nigh stopped at the cold. They sank low, her skirts billowing, Angus’s grip secure.
He kicked and brought them to the surface, only to duck beneath the churning waters anew when the guard who had fallen from above lunged for them. They came up sputtering and Angus stabbed at their opponent.
Angus seized her and dove beneath the waters as arrows rained down around them. Jacqueline kicked with all her might, and Angus forced them out into the swirling current.
Jacqueline was no swimmer but Angus was competent enough for both of them. She gripped his shoulders and glanced back at the keep, to see two men raise crossbows.
“Arrows!” she cried, then grabbed a fistful of Angus’s hair and shoved his head beneath the surface. He sputtered but did not fight her.
Fortunately, Angus seemed capable of swimming like a fish. He shoved his sword into his belt and guided her to hang on to his waist from behind. He swam with graceful strokes, so long underwater that she feared she might faint. They broke the surface finally.
“Deep breath,” he counseled, taking one himself before he dove deep again. The next time they came up for air, Airdfinnan was far behind them, and its arrows out of range.
Jacqueline laughed with delight and flung her arms around Angus’s neck. “You did it! You truly did escape.”
He allowed himself a smile. “I would not have managed it without such a stalwart companion,” he insisted, a gleam in his eye. “I may have assessed you wrongly, Jacqueline of Ceinn-beithe, for you did find obedience in a most timely fashion.”
“I knew you had a plan and that I had best not thwart it again. Indeed, ’twas only due to me that you had need of one.”
He smiled at her, holding her fast as the current carried them along. He could float, drifting on his back as if he were no more than a feather resting upon the water’s surface. His dark hair was slicked back, making him look as sleek as an otter. “I had naught but the hope of success, which I had been given to understand might prove sufficient.”
And from the look he bestowed upon her, Jacqueline was certain his feelings echoed her own. She did not press him for a sweet confession, knowing that Angus would only admit to such a thing when he and he alone deemed the timing to be right. But she was content indeed to be with him and certain that her future with him would soon be assured.
The stream grew shallow and slow once past the dams below Airdfinnan, and Angus soon helped her to shore. Her kirtle was heavy with water, so he bracketed her waist with his hands and carried her to dryer ground. The sun was high and burned with uncommon heat for so early in the year, a good portent for their health.
“We are near the pathway,” Angus said when they had wrung the water from their clothes.
Jacqueline glanced around but was unable to identify this patch of forest as different from another. “Where we rode to that vantage point?”
“Aye.” Angus offered her his hand and strode to the edge of the forest, plunging into its shadows with the confidence of one who knew his surroundings well. Jacqueline did her best to keep up with his pace, assuming that he meant to look down upon Airdfinnan again.
But he did not. When they reached the summit, he dug in the undergrowth, exclaiming with delight as he withdrew his boots and his armor. In a twinkling, he was dressed as a knight again, and slid his blade into its own scabbard with satisfaction. He had no tunic, of course, and his helmet was lost with his steed, but he was obviously pleased to have retrieved his belongings.
“And now we return to wrest Airdfinnan from Father Aloysius?”
Angus granted her a resolute glance. “And now we deliver you to Inveresbeinn.”
“But this is not the end of the tale!”
“’Tis all you will know of it, at least from your own experience.” He began to march
back to the pathway, evidently confident that she would follow.
Jacqueline did. “That is not fair! I have a right to know what comes of this.”
“You have no rights here and you know it.”
“But I am curious!”
“Then I shall write you a missive when all is said and done, and if you are a very good novitiate, the abbess will read it to you.”
“You need not sound so skeptical that I will have that chance,” she grumbled as she matched his pace.
“Poverty, chastity, and obedience,” he murmured, that undertone of humor in his voice. “’Tis all I have to say of that, vixen.”
They reached the edge of the forest, but he stayed her with a gesture. Jacqueline listened and heard the echo of hoofbeats.
“A horse!”
“Or more than one,” Angus agreed. He whistled distinctively, the shrill sound enough to curdle Jacqueline’s blood.
But there came an answering whinny and the thunder of hoofbeats increased. Jacqueline glanced to Angus, but he was studying the road intently.
A black beast that could only have been Lucifer galloped into sight, his reins flying wildly behind him. ’Twas not long before hoofbeats echoed again and a gray horse appeared on the road. Though that steed’s rider could not be clearly seen, his voice was readily identifiable.
“You faithless piece of horseflesh! ’Twas for naught that I saw you saved and that is the truth of it. I should have left you in Outremer where you would have been cut down years ago!”
Rodney roared and urged his horse to greater speed, but Lucifer paid him no heed. “’Tis bad enough that you cannot tell me what has befallen the boy, but you might linger long enough to be caught! I should see you sold for sausage meat, for you are a cursed amount of trouble.”
Lucifer stopped so suddenly that Rodney’s horse sailed right past him. The stallion stood his ground calmly, quivering from his exertions but flicking his ears.
Rodney swore with a vengeance. He turned his steed, and cantered back, opened his mouth to tell the stallion what he truly thought, then fell silent as Angus stepped from the woods. Lucifer grazed with indifference, as if to assure his pursuer that he had known Angus’s location all the while.
“So you are not dead, after all,” Rodney finally said.
“Not nearly.”
“But not for lack of an effort, by the look of you!” Rodney dismounted, his relief evident despite his bluster and hastened to shake Angus’s hand. “What madness seized you, boy, that you did not remain with the witch as we had arranged?”
“I thought it unsafe, as I recall.”
It seemed so long ago that they had been sheltered in Edana’s glade and Jacqueline marveled anew at all the adventures they had shared.
“And this one”—Rodney pointed at Jacqueline—“I can well expect that she has brought you naught but trouble, as women are so wont to do. I told you from the first, boy, that this scheme was ill-advised—”
“On the contrary,” Angus interjected smoothly. “Jacqueline has saved my sorry hide and that more than once.”
That confession silenced Rodney. He looked between the two of them and frowned, then was spared the need to answer—or to admit that he had erred—by the noisy approach of a larger party.
Angus stepped past Rodney to speak to his faithful steed. He checked the destrier from head to hoof even while the beast seemed to survey him similarly.
Then the party drew near enough to be distinguished each from the other, and Jacqueline gave a cry of delight when she spied Duncan, his brow as black as thunder, riding one of her mother’s palfreys. He dismounted and cast off the reins, heading directly for Rodney.
“What madness seized you to flee us like that?” he bellowed. “How dare you attempt to deceive us after all we have done? We have tried to fulfill your expectations and have acted in good faith—”
“I had to chase the steed!”
“A likely tale and one I am disinclined to believe.” Duncan shook his finger beneath the mercenary’s nose. “If my daughter Jacqueline has so much as a bruise upon her finger, I shall see that you live to regret your part in this for all your days and nights.”
“Good day, Duncan,” Jacqueline said quietly.
Her stepfather had been so focused on the man responsible for his anger that he had not looked about himself, as was oft his way. He started at the sound of her voice, regarded her in shock and delight, then abandoned his argument to catch her in a tight hug.
“Jacqueline!” Duncan swung her high, kissed her cheeks, then drew back to study her, his hands framing her face. “Are you well? Have you been injured?” Concern lit his eyes. “In any way?”
Jacqueline smiled and kissed his cheeks in turn. “I am most well and have not been abused. You need fear for naught.”
His anxiety eased and he smiled. “Praise be,” he whispered, hugging her again and kissing her brow. “Your mother would have had my hide otherwise.” Jacqueline laughed, welcoming Duncan’s attempt to lighten the mood.
Duncan stepped back then and eyed Angus, who considered their reunion watchfully. “You must be Angus MacGillivray, the man who would claim Airdfinnan.”
“Aye.”
“I cannot grant it to you, for ’tis not in my hands.”
“I know that now.” Angus bowed his head and offered his hand. “I apologize for seeking restitution from you in error. And indeed, I owe you compensation for wrongfully seizing your daughter.”
“Her manner says much to your credit,” Duncan said gruffly, and shook the man’s hand. “What of Airdfinnan?”
While Angus told Duncan what they knew, the rest of the party from Ceinn-beithe surrounded them. Iain, Jacqueline’s stepsister’s spouse and Duncan’s foster brother, had ridden to her defense, as had many of the Gaels committed to Duncan’s hand.
They were rustic men, grim and reticent or garrulous with their rough charm, and their hearts were good. Jacqueline felt as if a dozen fathers or elder brothers expressed their relief that she was well. They engulfed her with their hugs and warm wishes, making her feel that she had returned to Ceinn-beithe itself.
A stab of loneliness pricked her heart, for she would never see Ceinn-beithe again once she joined the convent.
If she joined the convent. Jacqueline eyed Angus, willing a sweet confession from his lips.
She heard how the group had traveled with Rodney, intent on helping him win what they had not the right to grant, and how fearful they had been when she had not been with Edana, as Rodney so clearly expected.
’Twas then that Edana herself stepped forth and reminded them that she had insisted they ride to Airdfinnan. Jacqueline was surprised that the older woman had made the journey.
“You had no way of knowing they were here,” Rodney protested. “One cannot object to a man balking at such advice.”
“It has long been said that Edana has the Sight,” Angus said, greeting the old woman with reverence. “And ’tis true enough that we were here.”
“’Twas not the Sight, Angus MacGillivray, that told me you would ride here,” Edana corrected. “’Twas the simple certainty that tales must end where they begin. This one began at Airdfinnan and so ’twill end here, one way or the other.”
“Is that why you came?” Jacqueline asked. “For a storyteller must know the end of the tale?”
Edana cackled. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I just wanted to hear what tales fell from the silvered tongue of Duncan MacLaren. Even in my corner of the world, I have heard of his skill.”
Duncan bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment, though Rodney regarded the old woman with skepticism. “So, tell us what will happen now, if you truly are a seer.”
Edana chuckled, gesturing to Angus. “You have thanked a woman for her aid already once, but, before all is done, you will do so again.”
“How can you see this?” Rodney scoffed. “’Tis naught but the whimsy of a woman who seeks to make other women of greater import than they are.”
/>
Edana appeared untroubled by this charge. “There are things one sees and things one knows. I speak of what I know, though I see that we shall not soon remain alone.” Edana lifted a hand. Jacqueline and the men followed her gesture as she pointed at the rising column of dust that approached the keep of Airdfinnan from the east.
Chapter 19
’Twas the Templars who arrived, the two parties meeting on the road beyond Airdfinnan’s sentries. Jacqueline was not privy to whatever was said between Angus and the leader, for she was left in the custody of the men from Ceinn-beithe, though Duncan was by Angus’s side. The men conferred, then dismounted, retiring to the quickly pitched tent of the Templar master.
The men were efficient in setting their camp and beginning to prepare a meal, but not so busy that they did not watch Jacqueline. Each time she tried to draw near the council, a Templar abandoned his task and politely turned her away, even to the point of escorting her back to Edana.
“They have no place for women,” the old woman muttered.
“Whyever not?”
Edana smiled. “Because they are caught betwixt one world and the next, these warrior monks. They pray like cloistered monks, then they wage war like men of the world. I oft have thought they must have some confusion as to the will of God.”
“They seem to show no such uncertainty.”
“Nay. But men oft can deceive themselves of what passes for the truth.” Edana seemed to find this a merry jest, though Jacqueline did not share her laughter.
“But why spurn women? I too have been within Airdfinnan’s walls and noted much of it.”
“But you are young and beauteous, lass.”
“That has naught to do with my wits!”
“Nay, but it has much to do with how troubled these monks are in your presence. They may be chaste, but they are yet men beneath their robes.”
Jacqueline glared at the tent. “I would still like to know what they are saying.”
“If desires were steeds, we should have a fortune in horseflesh, lass.” The older woman smiled, ruefully. “Come, let us bathe in the Finnan. I have been long without a good soak and ’twill ease the worries of both of us.”
Stolen Brides: Four Beauty-and-the-Beast Medieval Romances Page 123