by Olivia Rae
He had done all those things. He had been a big, brash boar. Then it might be possible that his mother would join the enemy.
“We will find them both,” Audrey said softly, clearly seeing the defeat in his manner. Why she stayed with him, he did not know.
“Aye,” encouraged Fraser. “We will figure a way to foil Maxwell’s plot.”
Overwhelmed by the support from those he had hurt the most, Gavin shook his head. “Nay. Maxwell has won. He can have my lands. All I want is my son back. And as for my mother… I am certain we will hear from her in due time.”
Again, Gavin started toward the stables. But he did not get far when Blair came running from the tower. “Laird Armstrong, a word please.”
Now what? Could they not see that time was of the essence? He inhaled a patient breath, giving her his attention. “What do you want?”
“I think ye should come to the scullery, there’s somethin’ ye need to see.”
“Can it not wait? I need to get Thomas back.”
Blair flipped her long braid over her shoulder. “I agree. And what lays in the scullery might aid ye.”
Her cryptic words intrigued him and invigorated Audrey’s and Fraser’s interests as well. “Then by all means lead on, Mistress Blair.”
What they discovered in the scullery did indeed change Gavin’s course. There lay Ewart among the pots and rubbish, sleeping like a babe.
“What have we here?” Fraser said, tossing a bucket of water over Ewart’s face.
The man sputtered and raised a hand. “Leave off. I ain’t ready to wake.”
Gavin kicked Ewart in the shin. “Get up. We have some questions that need answers.”
Ewart finally shook his head and sat up, staring bleary-eyed and blankly, swaying to and fro. “What about?”
“Where did your father take Thomas?” Gavin barked.
Putting a hand to his forehead, Ewart placed his other hand on the floor to hold his position. “What ye mean? What care I about yer whelp? I come straight to the hall after I lost the blade toss.”
Either Ewart hid the truth with a foggy head or he was being honest. “Are you saying you knew naught of your father’s plan?” Gavin asked.
“I know that he and Hew Armstrong were cookin’ up a brew of trouble for ye. But what that trouble be, I know not.”
“Well, I know what to do,” Fraser said, hauling Ewart to his feet. In a flash, Fraser pulled out his dagger and cut off a piece of Ewart’s hair and a bit of fabric from his shirt. “Get some parchment Mistress Audrey, Gavin needs to send Maxwell a message.”
Once the messenger had been sent, Gavin closed the gate and reinforced the entrance. He wasn’t fool enough to believe Maxwell would willingly make the trade. There was naught they could do but wait and pray that God would be merciful.
They waited another full day, but no word came from Maxwell. Would he come for his son, or would he let him rot in Warring Tower’s cells? The pavilions that scattered the field the day before were gone. A dark mood had descended on the keep as all waited to see what would happen.
Besides all of this, his mother was still missing. Some feared she was dead while others claimed she left with an English lord. Neither scenario could be proven, but if his mother did leave of her own accord, she left all her belongings behind, which would be unusual since she was so attached to them. No, Gavin was certain her leaving had not been planned. Wherever she was, he hoped she was safe.
The next morning’s coolness gave way to midday’s heat when a shout from a moss-trooper sent Gavin, Audrey, and Fraser to the battlements. As if rising out of the hills came Maxwell and a massive army on horseback.
None of this surprised Gavin. Even if it cost Ewart his life, Maxwell would fight. What cut Gavin to the heart was the sight of Thomas sitting in front of Maxwell like a shield.
The man truly crawled out of Satan’s pit. Maxwell cared nothing for his own kin or the life of a young child. A demon drove him. Nonetheless, Gavin planned to sacrifice his life to the beast to save his son.
“We’re goin’ to be havin’ a grand fight.” Fraser beamed and raised his ax. “Whatever happens, I want ye to know I never meant to fall in love with Edlyn.”
Gavin grabbed the back of his friend’s neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We cannae control where our heart goes.” His gaze glided briefly to Audrey. “Promise me you will look after her. Get her back to her family.”
Fraser wrinkled his brow. “If that’s what ye wish, but surely ye can…” His words drifted away as understanding dawned in his eyes.
The interaction had not been lost on Audrey. “What are you planning to do?”
“I aim to stop the bloodshed. ’Tis not only the land that Maxwell wants. He wants my head for killing Ualan.” Gavin took her hands and kissed them.
She fell into his arms. “Do not do this. Surely there is another way?”
He stepped back and placed his hand against her cheek. “Go home, Audrey. Go home and marry a man who will love and protect you. Who can give you a brood of children.” He kissed her gently, tasting her bittersweet tears. His lips lingered, capturing her goodness, her kindness, her devotion, and one more thing…
“I love you,” she cried.
Ah, there it was, and he loved her. But that was not the last memory he wanted her to have of him. He wanted her life to be merry and complete. Free from him.
He touched her forehead with his. “More the pity for you,” he whispered. She flinched, and his words tortured his own heart more deeply than she would ever know. He then pulled away and grabbed his sword, calling for the gate to be opened.
Chapter Twenty-eight
God protect him! Audrey tried to run after Gavin when a hand snaked out and circled her wrist.
“Ye dinnae want to do that. He’s doin’ what is best for all.” Though Fraser’s words were true, she didn’t want to hear them.
“They’ll kill him before he has a chance to speak.” Even if Gavin did not love her, she couldn’t just watch him die.
“Possibly, but Maxwell is a proud man, and I am guessin’ he will accept Gavin’s challenge.”
Gavin strode from the tower gate and raised a hand. “Maxwell. Let us settle this like men of honor. Fight me. If you win, you can have my lands and my life.”
Audrey shuddered, fearing any moment an arrow would pierce Gavin’s heart. She fought against Fraser’s hold. “Let me go to him, please.”
“Ye cannae. If ye go runnin’ out there, all will be lost for sure. He needs to know ye are safe.”
She wanted to smack Fraser, but no matter what punishment she would inflict on him, she knew he would not release her.
Maxwell guided his mount forward while Thomas squirmed in front of him. “I could have all those things by this eve and yer skin. What need do I have to accept yer challenge?”
“Think, what will your prize be? A burnt-out tower and trampled crops. Plus, the responsibility of more mouths to feed and little means to do it. Your fight is with me. Let Thomas go or your son will die as well.” Gavin stepped closer.
“Where is Ewart?” Maxwell demanded, backing up his horse. “I want to see that the lad is all right.”
“He is in the cells, ye flamin’ coward,” Fraser shouted from above. “And there he’s goin’ to stay.”
Even from where she stood, Audrey knew Maxwell bubbled with rage. “What are you doing?” she whispered. “The man is wild enough.”
“Ah, just tryin’ to move things along a bit.” Fraser grinned before he spat on the ground.
“Get Ewart,” Gavin called out.
Fraser handed Audrey over to another moss-trooper and took off, thumping down the stairs like a mad cow. Before her mind cleared, Fraser dragged a chained, beaten Ewart to the gate. “Here he is, ye horse’s dung. Here’s yer snivelin’ son.”
Ewart sobbed, slobbered, and sniffed. Like a dog, strings of drool hung from the corners of his bruised mouth. Rory puffed out his scarlet cheeks. “Stop yer cry
in’. Yer a Maxwell!”
The sight of Ewart had pushed Maxwell into agreement. He called for one of his men to take Thomas. Once done, Maxwell got off his horse and drew his sword.
Audrey’s breath froze in her chest, and her heart began to sink to the far recesses of her stomach. Rory Maxwell had murder in his eyes, and he would not stop until Gavin lay bloody and dead.
Breaking free from the moss-trooper’s hold, Audrey sunk down behind the battlement wall, unable to see what would soon transpire. What could she do? The clanging of swords thundered in her ears. What could she do? Maxwell’s roars swallowed up her mind leaving it black and blank. What could she do?
Pray. The single word cut through the ringing of sharp metal against metal. Pierced through the groans and moans coming from outside the tower walls. She could pray. Bowing her head and clasping her hands against her chest she began.
Dear Lord, I know Gavin has not always been a man of peace or a follower of your ways, but now he plans to give his life to save others. To save Thomas and those of Warring Tower. I know you do not condone bloodshed. Please find a peaceful way to end this conflict. Thy will be done. I ask all this in your son’s name. Amen.
“Well, would you look at that,” one of the moss-troopers said, pointing above the wall.
The grunts and clanging of a sword fight stopped, and the rumbling of the earth drew Audrey to her feet. There on a rolling hill south of Warring Tower sat at least twenty-five or more horses. They carried no markings of a family or colors of a country.
Maxwell and Gavin paused their fighting and gazed at the riders on the hill. ’Twas then that two horses broke the rank and galloped toward them. One a man with grey hair, wearing a brown leather doublet and black breeches. The other a woman who was familiar to all—Lady Francis. What turn of events was this? The closer the pair got, Audrey recognized the man as well. Sir Walter Pimberly, Lady Francis’s cousin and an agent for Queen Elizabeth. The pair rode between Maxwell and Gavin before stopping.
Terror should be coursing through Audrey’s veins, but it didn’t. Her heart exploded with joy. God had stopped the fight, at least for now. She sent up a quick prayer of thanksgiving as she raced down the tower steps and out of the keep to come to stand at Gavin’s side. Whatever her fate, God had seen fit to save Gavin and Thomas. Nothing else mattered.
Regrettably, Gavin did not seem as pleased when he saw his mother. In fact, he greeted her with open hostility. “Where have you been?” he shouted, his knuckles white on his sword. “We were all afraid something terrible happened to you.”
Lady Francis steadied her mount as her thin veil flapped in the early eve breeze. “I had something to take care of.”
“’Tis wonderful to see you again, Laird Warring. I remember you as a lad,” Lord Pimberly injected.
His polite manners were met with Gavin’s scowl. “I know why you are here, Pimberly. Tell the qu—”
Sir Pimberly coughed, sending out a warning look.
Gavin gritted his teeth. “Mistress Pittman she can’t have my son.”
“God’s bones,” Maxwell shouted. “Do you mean the English qu—”
Again, Pimberly let out a horrific hack.
“Go back from where you came and tell the witch she will never be welcomed in Scotland.” Maxwell raised his sword as if he were ready to run Sir Pimberly through.
“Hold, Rory,” Lady Francis warned sweetly. “Unless you plan on making another foolhardy mistake as you did years ago.”
Maxwell stalled and slowly lowered his weapon, a look of respectful penance on his face.
“We need to speak in a civil manner or all will be lost for both of our families.” Lady Francis swiveled her attention to the men on the hill. “First, you must let go of Thomas. Then, you must send your men away.”
Maxwell frowned. “Why should I do—”
“Stop being so stubborn. Let my grandson go and send the others away. Then come into the tower. All will be explained there.” Lady Francis brooked no argument. “It is that or a large army will attack. Are you prepared to meet them?”
“I dinnae believe ye.” Maxwell held his stance fast.
“All right, come, see for yourself.” Pimberly sniffed. “I assure you, Lady Francis does not jest.”
Maxwell’s tongue slid across his teeth. “Methinks this is a trap to lure me away from my men.”
“My word, you are thick,” Lady Francis scolded. “We are trying to save your life.”
Rubbing his jaw with his free hand, Maxwell’s gaze traveled over Lady Francis. “I have a better idea.” Maxwell went to his horse and motioned the guard to give him Thomas.
Gavin stepped forward. “Return my son.”
“In due time if what Lady Francis and this Englishman says is true. Right now yer son and ma are goin’ with me to see how many stand against us. The Englishman will stay here. If somethin’ happens to me, my men will gut him where he stands.” Rory’s men laughed.
Lady Francis nudged her horse closer to Maxwell’s. “Very well, but do not try anything, for if you plan to harm me or my grandson, I can assure you, you will incur the wrath of the most powerful.”
“Quit the dramatics, Francis. I give my word. Let us get this over with. I have yer son to kill this day.”
The three of them rode over the hill while Sir Pimberly and the rest of his men kept watch over the others.
“We could retire to the hall,” Audrey offered, hoping that Sir Pimberly would jump at her suggestion.
Gavin slowly shook his head. “Nay, we wait here. I have no desire on letting any of Maxwell’s men into Warring Tower.”
Pimberly dismounted. “This could take some time. Though I have to say our timing is quite remarkable. With your Truce Day festivities going on, our entourage literally marched right up to the edge of your lands undetected.”
All present seemed to view Sir Pimberly’s words with skepticism. Quite possibly the English families knew something was afoot. ’Twould be another reason they left with haste yesterday morn. Audrey sat down, and Maxwell’s men dismounted. No one was going anywhere.
The afternoon sun faded in the sky, and the winds turned cool. The sky became dark, and the smell of rain filled the air. Still, the trio had not returned. Maxwell’s men were starting to grumble that some ill had befallen their laird. Those on the hill still held their position, though they, too, had left their horses preferring to stand.
Just when Gavin called for torches, two familiar horses appeared and immediately all became alert. Maxwell stopped his horse in front of Gavin, handing Thomas over.
“Half of the English army lay there. We best get ready. Methinks there might be a fight,” Maxwell said.
Gavin ignored the man and hugged his son. Audrey’s heart leapt at the tender scene.
“There, there, Thomas. You are safe now,” Gavin’s soft voice floated on the wind.
Thomas’s narrow shoulders shook as he wept against his father’s chest. “Yer not mad at me?”
Gavin softened his hold and swept back the curls that had fallen into the boy’s eyes. “Nay. How can I? I love you.”
Audrey’s heart sang as she gave thanksgiving to God.
“I only wanted to run the race. They came out of nowhere,” Thomas said, sniffing back his tears.
“I know.” Gavin kissed the top of his son’s head. “Now go quickly to your chamber and wait there with your nurse.”
Thomas didn’t have to be told twice. He ran right past Audrey and through the gate as if fire nipped at his heels. She wanted to follow, but her legs felt like ice. A gentle hand on her shoulder began the thaw.
“Audrey,” Gavin whispered, “I think it is best we go inside too.” Solemnly, he took her hand and led her into the keep. She inhaled his warm leathery scent, hoping it would soothe her troubling soul, for after this day, she wasn’t certain she would ever see Gavin again.
* * *
In less time than it takes for sand to go through an hourglass, all of importan
ce were situated in the hall. The rest of the servants returned to their homes, and the guards were kept at bay outside in the courtyard or the fields around the tower.
Inside the hall an uncomfortable silence reigned. Gavin, Audrey, and Fraser stood on one side of the room while Maxwell and Ewart stood on the other. Sir Pimberly and Gavin’s mother stood in the middle like a wall between two warring countries.
“So,” Gavin said sternly, facing his mother, “you are the queen’s other agent.”
A stab of guilt pierced Audrey’s chest. Though Gavin had forgiven her, he had not forgotten, and never would, that she too had been a spy.
Lady Francis flapped her arms at her sides and sighed. “Gavin, ’tis not what you think.”
His whole body tightened like a taut rope. He said not a word, nor would he look in her direction.
Maxwell shook his head. “I know Ian was not much of a husband, but I never would have believed ye would have betrayed yer own kin.” He waved to Sir Pimberly. “What I saw and this skinny runt here proves ye prefer the English. What has become of ye, Francis?”
Gavin pulled out his sword and pointed the tip of the blade at Maxwell. “How dare you be so familiar to my mother.”
With a fierce yell, Maxwell slid his sword from its sheath and charged forward. Sir Pimberly grabbed Lady Francis’s arm and pulled her out of the way. Swinging their swords left and then right, Gavin and Maxwell continued the battle they had started on the fields.
Icy tendrils twisted through Audrey’s insides. What was wrong with them? Queen Elizabeth’s army sat outside their door, and all these two could think about was their hatred for one another.
They kept on striking blow for blow. Audrey clutched her chest as she watched Gavin’s footing slip under the mesmerizing power of hurt and betrayal. He fought with his heart while Maxwell fought with his head.
Lady Francis fell to her knees, tears pouring forth. “Please. Please you…do not…understand…”
Audrey tried to rush forward, but Fraser circled her waist with his arm. “They are in a blood lust. They will not stop until one of them falls.”
