Circle Of Honor Part 22

Raking his fingers through his hair, he fought to keep his voice calm. "By the saints, Gwenyth, I've made many promises, but none I am more determined to keep than my promise not to force you. I cannot do that to you, not even for my king."

She walked away and stood before the altar rail, and he thought she would fall to her knees and pray. She just stood there, staring at he knew not what. He could not make himself go to her, just as could not fathom what her response might be.

His enemy, his wife. G.o.d help him, he was falling in love with her.

He would not, could not harm her any more than he'd ever been able to harm any of G.o.d's creatures. He had never hunted for sport, but only to feed his family. And he had never killed another man, except in battle.

And he had never lifted his hand to a woman, nor would he start now.

When he thought he couldn't bear her silence a moment longer, she turned. To his surprise, her features had softened. By the heavens above, she was so lovely. Golden flecks sparkled in her dark brown eyes, and the early morning light from the stained gla.s.s behind the altar glinted in gold and red highlights in her hair. Hair that covered her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and fell softly, swinging now as she walked toward him.

She stood in front of him, so small, so beautiful.

He wanted desperately to kiss her full lips, to cover her in kisses. Aye, he would give her reason to be willing, but she would have to invite him. And there was little chance of that.

A wistful smile played upon her features as she looked up at him. "I will be honest, Adam. I am not happy to be a prisoner."

He smiled back at her. "And I am not happy to be your warden, lady. I would much rather be a husband." He kissed her, a far more chaste kiss than he would have liked. But she deserved his restraint. She was his wife, and he would honor her as best he could by teaching her to enjoy his touch.

Somehow. Some way.

He was encouraged when she didn't shrink from him.

"I'm not happy to wed a man who serves a king I can never give allegiance to." She stepped closer and cupped his cheek with her hand.

He leaned into her touch, kissed her palm, then said, "I understand that you would hate the man who killed your father. I won't ask you to forgive him. That is between you and G.o.d. But I will demand your loyalty."

"Yet you will not heed his order concerning our marriage." She gazed at him in wonder. "Truth be told, Adam Mackintosh, there cannot be a more honorable man in all of Scotland."

He stared at her, dumbfounded by this declaration, unsure just what it meant. "If it weren't for my overwrought honor, you wouldn't be here to begin with."

"Oh, Adam. Don't blame yourself for Leod's evilness."

"But if I'd taken you to my room, he wouldn't have harmed you."

She took his large hand in both of hers. "I will not compel you to disobey your king. I will come to you willingly, as willing as I am able, this once, Adam. More than that I cannot promise."

"Willing is the only way I'll have you, Gwenyth." He closed his eyes, stifling an urge to crush her to him. But he held himself in check. He knew this gift she offered came with a terrible price for her. Yet she offered, and only a fool would not accept.

"As willing as you are able. More than that I will not ask." He lifted her small hand to his lips and kissed the delicate fingers.

"You won't ask for my promise to remain at Moy?"

"Death awaits you outside my walls, Gwenyth. Perhaps in this one night you've granted me, I can convince you to choose life instead."

She withdrew her hand, as if distressed by his reminder of what the night would bring. "We'd best be going."

"Aye, my lady." Before my self-discipline deserts me.

Adam escorted Gwenyth to the keep, where she asked permission to retire to her chamber. Clearly her promise for this evening did not include a desire to spend the daylight hours in his company, and so Adam headed for the smith in hopes of finding Morogh.

He nearly collided with Nathara. "Good day to you."

"Good day, my laird." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a nervous gesture, then made as if to continue on.

Curious, Adam delayed her with a hand on her arm. "We've not spoken in some time, Nathara. How go things with you?"

She edged away, glancing toward the keep. "Fine, my laird. I must go. I rode this morn and I need to wash and help your mother."

"Where did you ride?"

"Oh, just to the wood above the falls."

He'd always thought she'd be a better liar than this. Such nervousness in a woman born to an easiness in stride and conversation bespoke of deceit. "A lovely spot."

"Oh, aye. A bonny spot, to be certain." Again the agitated motion to tame her hair. "I must go, Adam. I'm late."

"Of course. I'm sorry to keep you."

She made a quick curtsy and fled.

He walked on to the smith, where he found Morogh overseeing the repair of the Comyn men's weapons. After praising the smith's efforts, Adam pulled Morogh aside. "Put a watch on Nathara. I have reason to believe she is up to mischief."

"You think she's carryin' tales?"

"I don't know what she's up to, but I'll warrant it's not good."

Satisfied that all was as it should be, Adam left Morogh and walked to the hall for the midday meal. As he strode to the dais, he was surprised and glad to find Gwenyth at the high table. She rose 213 to greet him like a proper wife, and he bent over her hand to feather a kiss upon it, like a proper bridegroom. Aye, he would woo her and risk rejection, for she was worth the gamble.

But he'd barely begun his campaign before a shout and commotion arose to interrupt the meal. Ordering Gwenyth to stay indoors, Adam hurried to the bailey. One of the men Adam had sent to watch for cattle thieves galloped into the enclosure and slid his horse to a halt in front of them.

The man nearly tumbled into the dirt in his haste to dismount. Adam's gut clenched. Cattle raids were far too common an occurrence to incite such excitement.

Having righted himself, the man made a cursory bow to Adam. "My laird. There's been another raid."

"How many cattle?"

"Nay, my lord, only three or four beasties were lifted. They didna come for the cattlea"they attacked the village at Glen Corry."

Cattle raiding was an accepted annoyance of life in the highlands, but attacking a village was tantamount to a declaration of war. Before questioning the sentry further, Adam ordered Morogh to mount a troop of men for a fast ride.

"Any loss of life, Ivar?"

"Nay, but William McBean is hurt bad. Someone tried to nab his Mary, but William ran him off."

Adam shook his head, wondering if this was more of Leod's doing. He'd thought the death of the last victim might make Leod more cautious. "Did the rest of the watch follow the trail to see where it leads?"

" 'Twas no need, my laird. The fool dropped his bonnet. 'Twas a Cameron."

"Indeed." He found it much too convenient that the man was clumsy enough to leave behind his clan badge to identify himself. Whoever had attacked the village must hope to stir trouble by such deceit. For although the Camerons were known to help themselves to Chattan cattle now and then, their laird had no reason to attack Adam's people.

Adam had to believe this was more of Leod's doing. But how could he prove it? As he mulled over that thought, Gwenyth laid her hand on his arm. "Shall I come with you?"

"Have you forgotten our earlier conversation?" She recoiled at the sharpness of his voice, and he softened his tone. "I appreciate the offer of help, Gwenyth, but I will take Nathara to tend the wounded."

"As you wish, my laird."

Morogh brought Kai to him and Adam brushed a kiss across Gwenyth's cheek before mounting the restive stallion. Gwenyth gave a weak smile then turned and walked back into the hall.

She looked troubled, and Adam regretted that he was the cause of it. But for now his duty as a bridegroom must be pushed aside by his duty as laird.

THE VILLAGE lay to the north, not far from the border with the Cameron holdings. When they arrived, Adam inspected the damaged crofter's huts and spoke with the wounded as Nathara tended to them. Only three cattle were taken, making it obvious that the people had been the target. William McBean's injuries included a broken leg, but Nathara a.s.sured him the man would recover.

When Adam had questioned the last of the victims, he ordered Morogh to gather the men together for the ride back to Moy. While he waited one of the women brought Adam a cup of chamomile tea, which he gratefully accepted.

As the warm liquid soothed him, a long-ago memory flashed through Adam's mind. Of a carefree summer day in his childhood turned to horror as Leod swung a kitten by its tail. Adam tried to rescue the creature, but Leod ran. He followed and Leod threatened to fling the kitten into a tree if Adam didn't back off. Angry and frustrated to tears, Adam had watched as his cousin walked away, the poor animal hanging from his hand.

Adam never saw that kitten again. How foolish to believe that Leod would outgrow such cruelty.

Morogh brought his horse, and they mounted up and headed home. Even Nathara was subdued as they made their way back to the castle.

As he contemplated the day's events, Adam allowed himself to wish he wasn't laird, didn't have to weigh each action and its consequences to the clan. Just a simple man with a simple lifea"with a wife and children and a plot of land to tend like these crofters.

He smiled at a vision of little towheaded bairns clinging to his knee, begging for a story. Of boys who would need to be taught to protect the weak and innocent in their care. And daughters who would bring laughter and joy to the clan.

Adam's reverie was interrupted when Morogh brought his horse abreast of Kai and Adam. They had reached the hill overlooking the loch just as the evening sun cast shadows to play upon the scene.

Morogh pointed to the keep. "The laird's pennant has been lowered."

Instantly alert, Adam halted his horse and Morogh did likewise. "Do you think there's mischief afoot?"

"Aye, the raid may have been a ruse to lure ye from the castle while someone attacked."

"But if the alarm was sounded in time, the castle is virtually impossible to take." Adam looked again to the rampart. Despite the failing light, the laird's flag should be plainly visible, waving in the breeze. But it clearly was not.

He felt his heart go still.

Da.

Ignoring Morogh's shouts of warning, Adam spurred his horse and galloped across the causeway. As his mount slid to a halt in the bailey, the grief-filled faces of the men-at-arms confirmed his fear.

Angus Mackintosh was dead.

EIGHTEEN.

THE DEATH OF HER FAMILY, destruction of her home, and Leod's cruelty had crushed Gwenyth's spirit. Daron's betrayal had seemed to be the final blow. But the death of Angus Mackintosh proved to be more than Gwenyth could bear alone.

On her knees in the chapel where she'd been married just this morning, she cried for all she'd lost. The tears came out in racking sobs and she could not hold them back. She cried not only in grief for the dead, but also for the chasm she'd created between herself and her Savior.

As she prayed she sensed that she could no longer hide from the G.o.d she had mistakenly blamed for her misfortune. In the midst of this new pain and grief, she prayed for his strength and comfort, and as the tears subsided, his peace enveloped her. G.o.d had not abandoned her, nor would he ever do so.

Father Jerard, the priest she'd refused to talk to, found her in the chapel.

"Here, la.s.s." He offered her a sc.r.a.p of cloth to wipe her eyes and blow her nose, and she took it gratefully.

"Thank you, Father."

"I sense that you were as fond of Angus as he was of you."

Gwenyth sniffed. "He was so very kind to me."

"Aye, even after he learned your true name." He looked at her thoughtfully. "Perhaps your grief today has as much to do with your other trials as it does Angus's death."

Another tear escaped. Gwenyth swiped it with the back of her hand and nodded.

"Would you like me to pray with you?"

"Aye, please."

Father Jerard's prayer eased Gwenyth's heart and she began to pray for Angus, for Adam's safe return from the village, and finally for forgiveness for doubting G.o.d's faithfulness.

Saying good-bye to Father Jerard, she went to her room. Just before sunset she heard Adam return. Thoughts of her promise to accept him as husband crowded her prayers even as she hoped that his grief would delay the evening.

ADAM LEAPED FROM HIS HORSE and went straight into the keep to find his mother. Eva's face showed strain and the telltale signs of tears, but she embraced her son and patted his back, crooning as if he alone bore the grief of Da's death.

Adam led his mother to a chair by the hearth in the great hall, sitting her down and holding her hand.

"I went to his room to tell him about yer marriage. He was resting quietly, but, must have sensed me there. When he opened his eyes, I knew the time had come."

"Did you have time to say good-bye, then?" Adam forced the words past a lump in his throat.

"Aye, we did. Yer father wanted ye to know he was proud of ye. He said to take good care of the la.s.sie. And he asked me to give ye this." She held out a parchment with his father's seal. Adam put it inside his plaid, tucking it under his belt for safekeeping.

Fearing his voice would betray him, Adam gazed at his hands.

Eva laid her hand on his arm. "Angus was a wise and wonderful man. And his son shows every promise of being the same."

At the moment, he didn't feel worthy of such praise. He could find no words of consolation, and so he simply sat with her until the need for solitude overwhelmed him and he left her for the sanctuary of his room.

Once inside his chamber, he barred the door and laid the letter on top of the chest where he stored his weapons. Adam dropped onto a stool, staring into the fire, fighting the grief that washed over him. Head in hands, memories flooded him, and he wept. He thought of his last meeting with Angus and praised G.o.d they had not been shouting at one another.