by Susan Payne
Leo turned to Jillian for orders as if she were the knight to his squire and she shook her head. “No, you will not. I will take you back to the keep and you can face my husband, the Laird.”
“Wait, no one said ye was the Laird’s, ahh, lady. We don’t want any trouble with him,” said the original instigator of the attack.
“I always tell my husband the truth and he will wish to know what I did today. You must pay for your mercenary crime and Leo and I will stand witness.” She picked up their adversaries’ swords and took the knives off their waist belts. Searching for any others in the men’s boots, the two victors marched them out to where the horses were tied near the start of the forest.
Jillian wasn’t happy with this whole afternoon now she was escorting her attackers, home. Her husband would not treat her as a conquering hero but as a miscreant wife. She damned the eyes of her two prisoners and let Leo take the lead as the men tried to remain seated on their horses while tied and bleeding.
The group was met with a very angry Gawain on bareback a half-mile from the keep and Jillian put up her hand saying, “Please, not now.”
Not seeing blood on his wife, but bloody wounds on the two men, he stiffened with fury. He held his tongue but he had never had to bite it so hard or for so long before. He rode his destrier next to his wife and kept glancing at her face, which was a mask. He knew he wasn’t going to have a restful sleep that night.
Once though the gates all hell seemed to break lose as the wounded men were yanked roughly off their horses and Leo explained they had tried to rob Jillian and attacked them both without provocation. Gawain lifted Jillian down and held her a moment before leading her into the keep and up the stairs.
“Should we call for Edith?” he asked worried now at how quiet his wife was being.
“No, I am…we are fine, do not fret, husband,” she said as she entered their chamber and began removing the soiled men’s clothes she would probably never wear again. “It was not my fault. I was merely hunting for artifacts and these two men accosted us.”
“And you just happened to have a broadsword at your side? And Leo had one, too? How convenient,” he said sarcastically.
“I often have my sword with me along with a bow and quiver in case we run into a wild cat or other predator. I always keep myself safe, Gawain, I really do.” He saw the tears forming and knew he always weakened when faced with his wife’s tears.
He pulled her body into his arms. “You know what I have to tell you and that you must obey me although I wish it were otherwise.”
He watched as his wife wiped the tears from her cheeks and nodded, not arguing or stomping in frustration as he almost wished she would do instead of this quiet acceptance of his edict.
Because although he wanted to please her, to keep her content and happy, he wanted her safe the most. She had just shown him that being safe, even close to the keep, wasn’t always obtainable. He would need to go against his own feelings of fairness and keep his wife inside the bailey, inside the keep if he were honest with himself. He did not wish her even within sight of any but the closest clan members. He would make sure all his men knew the rules and that anyone allowing or aiding his wife to evade or get around those rules would be facing his wrath.
There was a tap on their door and Ann asked through the wooden panel if Jillian wanted a bath brought up. Without asking her opinion, Gawain called out, “Yes, she needs a nice hot bath to ease her aching muscles.”
CHAPTER NINE
Gawain entered the library asking on the spur of the moment, “Do you wish a game of chess, wife? Your father tells me you used to play with him and Sir Gunn quite often. In fact, he said you beat him so regularly he stopped playing against you to save his pride.”
“That is not altogether true, but I did get good at knowing what he was going to do next and that probably took the fun out of it for him. Sir Gunn and I were never well matched although he would set the game pieces over and over anyways,” she said looking up from her letter.
“Then should I get the board?” he offered. Thankful his wife wasn’t complaining about having to stay inside so much lately. Jason, his most loyal lieutenant, was the only one he trusted not to fall prey to her maneuverings when outside the keep. It seemed his wife had a way of making even the most austere of his men turn to putty in her hand.
“No, thank you. I need to finish this letter and then I plan on reading a paper a professor sent me that has to do with the Picts.”
“Mayhaps tomorrow then.” He knew she wasn’t happy with their situation and there were several more months before the baby was due. Gawain knew that even after the birth he would not be able to give her the freedom she had been used to. He worried too much when she was out of his sight, especially when she was out of his house.
Leaving his wife, he chastised himself for not making more of an effort to find a compatible occupation that didn’t end with him laying with his wife. They must have something in common after all these months sharing a bed, sharing their lives.
What did other married couples do? The woman took charge of the home and the man took charge of running everything else. It was the normal division of labor and interests. It wasn’t his fault Jillian never replaced Agatha as woman of the keep, wasn’t his fault Jillian had no skills with a needle or interest in fashion. Why was he trying to find things to entertain her inside the keep, then? That wasn’t a husband’s duty.
But it was this husband’s duty if he wished to make sure he had a wife in his keep, in his bed. Once the bairn was born, she might return with her father to Castle Crawford, miles away where any child they made would eventually inherit, title and all. It was a fear he knew he would face one day. Just not so soon.
Gawain would need to find something the two of them could enjoy together. After all, his father-by-marriage and Lady Edith spent almost every hour together and never seemed to run out of things to say to one another, never wished to be anywhere but at the other’s side. What was their secret? How did they find the right combination between needing one another and wanting one another?
Jillian hated the expression of hurt that crossed her husband’s face when she turned down his offer to play chess. She knew he was merely offering to keep her from becoming discontented. But she was discontented and playing a silly game sitting indoors wasn’t going to change that.
At least Gawain had set someone else to work with Leo and hone his skills. The young man had real potential. He seemed to have grown several inches during the last six months she had known him so he wasn’t going to stay small for long, merely a late bloomer, as they say.
Jillian was able to have the young man come into the keep to learn to read and write as many other squires did. She wanted Leo to have the best chance of becoming a knight as she could give him. She knew what it felt like to yearn for something so badly, yet, know it would always be out of reach.
Walking to the window, she watched the leafless trees in the distance. So much had happened in that woods. She could barely remember the girl, who had travelled with her ill father, before being found by the Laird and his hunting party. Her whole life changed in that instant and she would never know if it were for the better or not.
What would her life have been like if the hunting party had ignored the two horses’ tracks and kept on after the Red deer? Would she and her father be back in their own castle and sitting in front of a warm fire talking of how the King had thrown Dennis out on his arse? Or would she be huddled in a small room in England waiting on the King’s pleasure for a meeting so she and her father could beg him for the return and protection of their property.
She would never have thought she would find herself as this Laird’s wife, soon to be a mother and possibility of having a step-mother. Life was unpredictable and she would see where she was a year from now.
She would need to wait until her feelings for her husband were anything more than gratefulness for rescuing her. More than an appreciation of his body
and expertise in bed. She felt some unnamed emotion when she thought of her child, the child she would not have if it were not for her husband. She felt some unnamed emotion when she thought of her husband and how he showed his worry and concern for her and their unborn child. She felt some unnamed emotion when she thought of the possibility of leaving the keep and returning home, as well. She could not name that which was unknown to her or which of these emotions would end up the strongest.
Jillian spent more time studying the books on the history and people who had occupied the lands of Scotland. It wasn’t as if she would ever know any more than she knew of the individual life stories of the owners of the Pict artifacts. It was all conjecture on the part of modern man to decipher the past. She turned and went back to the desk, hoping the professor would be able to make the long trip before bad weather made it impossible.
Her Father and Lady Edith announced their formal engagement, but were waiting to marry until they reached Castle Crawford so the people there could be part of the celebrations. They wanted the people who lived under the Earl of Crawford’s protection to be able to participate and accept Lady Edith as their true lady.
Jillian and Gawain would probably not be present since it was to be soon after she gave birth. Lady Edith said there was no way she was leaving Jillian until she was sure the baby and mother were doing well.
Gawain took time from his workday to ride with Jillian and he watched her as if she would go into labor while Lancelot walked complacently on flat ground. She was bundled against the harsh wind and felt stifled. He even made them dismount and rest near the stream. Jillian tried not to show her discontent since she knew he was trying to give her what she wished. It was not his fault she found it so frustrating and limiting.
As they sat, he asked, “What was your childhood like, Jillian? I mean you have given me bits and pieces, but I have difficulty seeing you pass yourself off as a boy.”
She smiled remembering the expressions on the faces of her father’s men when she first showed up in the outer bailey wearing boy’s clothes and her hair cut so it could not fall and get in her eyes when she was in combat.
“It wasn’t probably that much different from yours I presume. Sir Gunn, once he realized I was certain I wanted to become a knight or as near be, dressed me in borrowed boys’ clothing and set me to it. He gave me exercises to strengthen my arms and back so I could lift the equipment and swords.”
She watched as her husband skipped a stone across the quiet stream. “Then he had me practice against the other squires, not giving any concessions for my being a girl. I gave none to the boys, either. If they held back, they soon learned that it hurt to do so. I went at them as if my life were on the line and, in a way, it was. The life I wanted, anyway.”
She picked up a stone and skipped it across the smooth top of the slowly moving water counting the skips and smiling contentedly when it went one hop further than her husband’s.
“So, I practiced with the sawdust-stuffed dummy and I wrestled the squires and some of the men until I could get out of most of their grips even if I didn’t have the strength to take them down completely. I did pretty well and, of course, I took them by surprise. I’m quicker because of my size.”
Gawain smiled and nodded. “I can attest to that although you were at a disadvantage in the wood. You had been starved for weeks and tired, but I could see the fighter in you. I was about to let you go when you went on the offense so I had to protect myself.”
“Are you saying you didn’t try hard to take me?” Jillian asked watching him with her brows drawn together.
“No, I tried and succeeded, if you remember, but I didn’t kill you once I realized you were a woman. There are much better things to do with a woman.” He let a gleam of sexual interest enter his eyes even out in the cold as they were.
Jillian met her husband’s gaze blandly. “I appreciate the chance to be outside, but not enough to cavort with you on the cold, hard ground in appreciation for your generosity.”
“You can’t blame a man for trying.”
Jillian tried to get them back to the more reflective conversation and asked, “What about your childhood? Was it much like mine? Did you lose your mother when you were young, too?”
Gawain gazed out over the now fallow fields, comfortable telling her about his life before he knew her. “I was almost a grown man, already studying how to fight and protect what would one day be mine. As you’ve probably guessed, Torrey and Jason were always the ones paired against me. We were close even then and it has not changed. I trust them with my life and, even more telling, with yours. I know they would give their lives to save yours. Loyalty is very important to me. That and honesty. I expect honesty from all those close to me.”
Jillian stood and walked toward Lancelot saying, “Don’t we all. Although sometimes it seems we must hold back honesty so we do not hurt those we care about.”
Gawain stepped forward to help her mount, but spent the ride back to the bailey thinking of what she told him and wondering what she was not being honest with him about. He could feel her restlessness every morning when he left her. Her want and need to have a destination of her own, to do something worthwhile with her life. He understood but he did not have an answer.
Hopefully having an infant to care for would have her relax and content within the walls of the keep. He worried that when her father left, she would be unable to settle in his home. Gawain would do anything to have her want to stay. He would allow her to continue wearing men’s clothing, hunting with him and even digging in the dirt piles looking for her artifacts. If she would choose to stay at Macgregor’s keep.
But he would not be able to allow her to leave him, their child needed both parents and siblings. That would be difficult if she felt she should live in the north with her father while he had to remain here leading the clan.
He could not find an answer that would give Jillian as much freedom as she feels she needs and have his wife safe and, in a place, where he needed her.
Two weeks later a single rider rode up to the barbican and asked permission to enter. Jillian was in the library, the room where she spent most of her time now, when she heard that the Professor Butler, she had been waiting for was in the inner bailey.
Jillian told Ann, “Oh, go and let the poor soul in to get warm. It isn’t easy for a man his age to travel in this weather and by horse. I cannot believe he tried such a thing even if he found it faster.”
Jillian knew Ann could move easier than she could, her extra forward weight making descending stairs tricky and ascending stairs a chore. She didn’t like not being able to see her feet and where she was placing them.
As Jillian entered the hall, she found a tall, slender man standing in front of the large fire place, his greatcoat with several capes and tricorn hat still in place.
“Oh, Professor Butler, I am so glad you made it. May I get you some refreshments before I take you to your room to rest?” she offered as she approached him.
He turned, removing his hat at the same time and his beauty made her breath catch.
“Mrs. Macgregor,” the man said with a bow. “I was glad to see the walls of your keep, I can tell you the truth, but I find that now I’m inside and warm, I’m rejuvenated and ready to work.”
The man stared at Jillian and she became self-conscious of her protruding stomach and her unfashionably full breasts although his eyes were not roving in disgust or lecherously. He seemed to find her attractive and she stood a little straighter in his regard.
“You are from the colonies. I had not realized while we were writing to one another,” she said trying to settle herself.
“Yes, I’m afraid I am. Does it make a difference? I am of Scottish descent and that is one reason I came to the university to study and teach. I wanted to learn more about my heritage,” he replied in his charming accent.
Ann came in shyly, setting a tray on the table closest to the couple as they stared at one another. Jillian had nev
er seen a man besides her husband who could take her breath away, but Professor Butler was a man worth looking at. If the girl’s wide-eyed gaze was anything to go by, Ann seemed to agree.
“Thank you, Ann, that will be all. I will see to our guest, but if you can make sure his room is ready then I will be pleased.”
Ann curtsied and went swiftly up the stairs seeking Agatha who Jillian knew had probably already seen to the room’s readiness. When she left, Jillian offered her guest some hot mulled wine and sweet cakes.
She was trying to adjust her thinking of Mr. Butler from the elderly scholar to this robust and healthy specimen of adult male. She could not believe this man had nothing better to do during his term break than to visit a fortress out in the middle of nowhere without even a town close-by for entertainments.
“Mrs. Macgregor, I wish to say how appreciative I am of your offer for lodging while I visit the possible Pict sites. And for allowing me to study your finds at close proximity, of course. I really am honored you would allow me the privilege to be one of the first to see them.”
Jillian felt herself blush because she didn’t feel she deserved any praise for finding the items. After all, it hadn’t taken any skill on her part, merely curiosity and boredom, and that is what she told him.
“It was rather an unfortunate accident when my horse stepped through the surface of the earth and disturbed an area where a Pict had buried his most valued items. You wrote that they did not have a custom of doing so normally. I have to speculate these were either stolen and hidden or placed there for safety and the owner simple died before he could return to claim them.”
“I believe either one of those hypotheses could be correct or we, in the present, must either prove or disprove as we can. Either way, I am deeply appreciative for this chance to study a people who have been ignored as part of our heritage here in Scotland. Too much time is spent on the Vikings, but the Pict had much to offer also, like working with metals.” He smiled again. The dimples that made one almost stare to see them appear again became permanent indentations on both sides of his lips.
