by Nicole Locke
‘She’s mostly finished her teething, but there are still some growing in.’
He looked at the oatcake and at Maisie. Maisie looked at the oatcake and at Robert.
‘Her teeth are breaking through her gums,’ she explained.
He looked blankly at her.
She tried not to grin again. It would take a lot of instruction to get Robert of Dent worthy of childcare. ‘Chewing on fingers and on oatcakes relieves children until the teeth break through the gums.’
Nodding, Robert lifted the oatcake to Maisie’s mouth.
Maisie looked at the oatcake, then with a slurping pop, released her fingers and grabbed the oatcake with her clean hand, while her now-sopping hand gripped the front of Robert’s tunic.
Robert looked down at the front of his tunic. ‘I think she won,’ he said.
Gaira laughed. ‘I dinna think you had a sense of humour.’
‘I don’t,’ he said. His eyes never left Maisie.
Gaira watched the changing emotions cross Robert’s face. It was like seeing further into the river he reminded her of. He said he didn’t have a sense of humour, but she suspected at one time he had.
She quickly lowered her gaze before turning. ‘I’ll see if the others need me.’
Feeling him watching her, she tried not to trip on her own legs. She knew her departure was abrupt, but she couldn’t help it; just as she couldn’t seem to curb her fascination with Robert.
She knew he hadn’t meant to reveal anything about himself, had in fact been rather quiet the entire morning, but it was his very nature that fascinated her.
He was patient, kind, reluctantly honourable and generous despite not wanting to be. But those traits weren’t revealed to her while he held Maisie. No, something deeper than that. She had seen some pain there, but some tenderness, too. He was a man of marriageable age, but he didn’t talk of a wife and she realised she had never asked. She didn’t know anything of his life, other than he soldiered with the English King Edward and she had just guessed that little fact.
She suddenly felt guilty for her wayward longing for him. What if he was married?
Chapter Eleven
When she returned from the trees, she saw Creighton playing quietly with Alec and, despite the damp, Flora had fallen asleep against a large tree. Maisie was slumped in her lap.
Gaira’s heart tightened to see the children unguarded. When they were like this, she saw weariness shadowed beneath their eyes and their own burdens weighing and drooping their shoulders. She had lost her sister, but they had lost their families and home.
The children were exhausted and they had only just begun their journey. She felt like joining them.
Just getting a few miles away from the valley was a reprieve. She couldn’t smell anything since Robert had buried the bodies, but the wind had carried the smell of burnt wood and that was a painful reminder. If she could smell it, so could the children.
Creighton caught her staring at him and he did not return her smile. She walked towards him, fully intending to rough his hair and tease him out of his seriousness. She had done it many times since she had known him. He never laughed, but he did express annoyance and she’d rather have that than the empty look in his eyes.
‘We should leave.’
Gaira stopped. Robert stood between the trees, his arms crossed, his shoulder braced against a tree trunk. She wondered how long he’d been there.
‘We will once the children have rested,’ she answered. ‘The weather’s holding, perhaps it won’t even rain.’
‘And if it does? Do you know of a shelter nearby?’
She didn’t know. When she had escaped, she hadn’t travelled this way. But she hadn’t told him those details. To do so would open up too many questions.
‘I doona know,’ she answered. ‘I travelled fast and wasn’t paying attention.’
The trees’ shadows dimmed his features, but she felt his gaze sharpen.
‘They need to rest.’ She tried to change his focus.
‘At this rate, it’ll be winter by the time we reach any village,’ he argued.
Robert’s words were ridiculous, he had probably made a weak attempt at humour, but an icy flush swept Gaira’s body.
How could she be so foolish? She knew the children needed to rest, but it wasn’t safe. Her betrothed could catch up to them and then she’d be in no position to help them. They needed rest, but not at that cost.
‘More wanwitty I,’ she said. ‘How long do you think we’ve tarried?’
He uncrossed his arms and took a step out of the trees’ shadows. His eyes were narrowed. ‘At least an hour.’
She turned away from his assessing eyes and clapped her hands. ‘All right, children, let us leave, we’ve dawdled enough.’
‘But I’m hungry,’ Alec said.
She felt a twinge of guilt. She should have made sure he ate. ‘We will just have to eat as we go.’
Robert watched and she knew her abrupt change of demeanour had made him suspicious, but she didn’t care. They had to keep moving.
She picked up Maisie from Flora’s lap and swung her up on her hip. She stayed asleep. She reached for Alec, but the boy suddenly bounded over to Robert and grabbed his hand.
‘Come on, Ame Robert!’ Alec tugged at his hand.
Robert’s jaw dropped. ‘Er...’
Alec tugged even harder and Robert’s right foot shifted.
Gaira decided to come to his rescue. ‘He’s not your blood relation, Alec, so he can’t be your ame.’
Alec measured her words and shrugged. ‘That’s all right, I still like you.’ He reached up to Robert.
His arms woodenly at his sides, Robert stared at Alec. His face was as blank of colour and expression as she had ever seen it. She could see he was floundering on multiple levels and the boy was barely five. She smiled.
‘He wants to be picked up,’ she instructed. ‘To be put on the horse.’
Looking only somewhat relieved, Robert lifted Alec on to the horse. To stop from laughing, she quickly turned to Creighton and Flora.
‘Come, let’s go, you two.’
Flora rubbed her eyes and Creighton helped pull her up. When they followed her to their horse, the enormity of the responsibility hit her. In less than a sennight, these children trusted her to take care of them. Trusted her enough to follow her to a land they had never been. Trusted her enough to allow an unknown English soldier to travel with them. It was a trust she could barely comprehend.
She helped Creighton mount first, and then Flora. They looked at her expectantly.
Maybe it went a bit beyond trust. Maybe they had started caring for her.
Handing Creighton the reins, she knew she would not fail them.
* * *
The weather did not hold. In less than an hour, the air chilled, the mist turned heavier and within moments the wind was hurtling rain sideways.
Robert bent forward and used his arms to shield his eyes. The trees provided no buffer and the horses trailed behind him. He did not need to raise his head to see the huddled forms of the children and Gaira leaning low on the horses.
Still Maisie’s cries were heard above the wind and rain. He was glad the child was enclosed in Gaira’s arms and near her ears and not his own.
Something was amiss. Gaira’s manner disturbed him. One moment she was determined to stay and rest and in the next she hurried the children on the horses as if there were a rushing river about to drown them all.
And she looked to be just as fearful. It wasn’t the first time he had seen fear cross her face or even the first time he’d seen her hurry. She had asked several times if he could bury the dead quickly. He had thought at first her fear and urgency were results of what had happened at Doonhill, but now he wond
ered if it was something else. But why would a woman with four children need to hurry?
He had no answers and nothing about her made sense.
She wore a man’s tunic and hose and she travelled alone. She might have told the truth of her sister and her coming to Doonhill, but she had not told him why she was going there in the first place.
A blast of wind forced him to sidestep. When he righted himself, the rain suddenly stopped as if someone had put a stopper in the sky. Maisie stopped crying right along with it. After the roaring sound of wind and rain, the heavy silence, interrupted by only drips of water from the trees and the snort of the horses, seemed otherworldly.
Blue sky and bright rays of sun scattered through the trees and the rain-covered grass and bluebells sparkled in the bright light. He supposed it would have been beautiful, except he was drenched and heavy cold drops of rain fell on top of him from the trees.
‘We have to get out of the trees,’ he called back. ‘We’ll never dry.’
‘We might lose the trail,’ Gaira answered.
‘We’ll follow the treeline until the ground dries.’
‘But I’m not sure—’
‘I’m getting out of the wet trees. You can follow me or not. But I’m for getting dry.’
He began to walk to the east, but he heard her reply before he heard the horses behind him.
‘I’ve heard the English were soft, but I had nae idea a few drops of rain would have you running for fairer weather.’
He did not deem her taunt worthy of a reply.
‘I am not surprised, you know,’ she continued.
She wouldn’t leave it alone and he was rising to the bait. ‘Wanting to be dry is practical. Getting ill or chafing the skin so it is open for infection is not soft, but pig-headed.’
‘Is it also pig-headedness prompting you to have a beautifully carved saddle with padding so thick, it is like riding on air? Or is it just practicality causing you to wear a weave of clothing so fine its softness rivals flower petals?’
He sluiced the water out of his hair. ‘I do not lack for coin. It provides me such things.’
‘Aye, and I suppose you’d argue it is nae a sin to want things of comfort.’
‘I like comfort.’
‘Aye, that’s because you’re soft.’
Tired of defending himself, he turned around. He was expecting derision on her face or the familiar humour, but neither emotion was there. Instead of a flash in her eyes or a curve to her lips, there was paleness behind her freckles and whiteness around her mouth.
‘What game do you play?’
Even with her arms around Maisie, he saw her hands jerked on the reins.
‘Do not play me for a fool, woman. You think pricking at my pride will keep me within this treeline, which means you don’t want me outside the cover of these trees. Why?’
‘I doona know what you’re talking about.’
‘Or is it you who should stay within hiding?’ he questioned, the thought taking root. ‘Is this even the trail to the nearest village?’
She pulled roughly on the reins, forcing the horse past him and heading east out of the trees.
‘I just want to get us there and be safe again,’ she retorted. ‘If you want to risk our safety just so you can be dry, so be it, Englishman.’
He let her get a few yards in front of him. ‘What would be unsafe outside this treeline?’ he asked.
She did not raise her voice, but he still heard her. ‘Why, your comrades who burned Doonhill. Who else?’
For the first time in their acquaintance, he did not believe her.
Because even if she forgot, he hadn’t. She had already argued she no longer feared the English who’d attacked Doonhill.
She seemed without guile and he had believed her about Doonhill and her sister. But observation told him there was more to her story.
It was the man’s tunic and leggings she wore. Nothing survived from Doonhill, so she must have been wearing the clothing on her way there.
She had also travelled alone. No woman travelled alone. Maybe that was why she had disguised herself in man’s clothing, but it was a weak disguise.
Then there were her fear and urgency, which added to the story. And all of it confirmed Gaira was running. But with four children and only two horses, she wasn’t running anywhere fast. Without some truths from her, he couldn’t protect himself and couldn’t protect them.
He was a fool to be stuck in whatever mess she had made and an even greater fool for not knowing the reason.
Because whatever she was running from was going to catch up to them.
Chapter Twelve
When they exited the shade of the trees, Gaira blinked against the sunlight and Alec sneezed into her back. Since his little hands were clutched around her waist, she did not have to imagine where the sneeze landed.
‘Cover your mouth next time, Alec.’
Giggles.
They were like an instantaneous balm to her increasing worry.
Robert walked in front again. Except this time, they were on the true trail north to home. The exact road she had travelled before. In plain sight. Where her brothers or Busby of Ayrshire could find them.
She didn’t know what she feared more. Her traitorous brothers or her murdering betrothed. Or was it her murdering brothers and her traitorous betrothed?
She hoped she was making the right decision by returning to Colquhoun land. Though her brother had betrayed her, he could not be unkind to four orphaned children. She was also hoping he’d allow her to stay. After all, someone had to take care of the children.
Returning to her betrothed wasn’t an option. She didn’t know much about Busby of Ayrshire except his wives had died and his home and clan were poorly kept. At the time she’d ridden with him, she’d been too shocked at her brother’s betrayal to pay much attention. Even so, she’d been aware of his brutish size, his coarse words and the way he’d looked at her: disgusted and calculating.
But was Busby’s reputation and crude behaviour worse than her brother tricking his beloved sister? Or a sister that thought she was beloved?
She looked around for a distraction from her wayward thoughts. Unfortunately, the tall wet grass and the hopping insects weren’t much of a distraction. But Robert was.
His fine dark figure cut against the wet green grass and sunshine. His broad shoulders, thick legs and even his relaxed arms, slightly swinging, were a braw sight. No movement was wasted; he walked, but saved his energy, as if he could make the complete journey just by his legs alone. Given his strength, she had no doubt he could.
She suspected he purposefully kept the pacing of the horses slow. He seemed to know what was needed for the children. Creighton was handling his horse well, but Flora was terrified and Alec and Maisie barely kept their balance.
Robert was a distraction to her, but that was not all and she had a terrible suspicion she knew what the rest of her feelings were. And she had only known him for two days.
Want. Pure and simple. She didn’t know how it had come to be, but there it was. She tried to think maybe her feelings for him had to do with her longing for somebody, anybody, to get her out of the mess she was in.
After all, she had never begged God more passionately than for some help out of her situation. Then Robert had arrived.
Despite his scruffy appearance and rough manner, there was something solid about him. Unchangeable. Strong, not just in body but spirit, too. He wouldn’t sell his sister. He wouldn’t abuse his servants, or keep a mean, dirty, household. No, she suspected in Robert’s realm everything would be neat, tidy and in its place. And she also suspected he wouldn’t take to anyone upsetting that order.
And lying? She could easily imagine him slitting the throat of any man who would do so.
She could only hope that he would have some leniency with her lying. After all, she did it to protect some orphaned children...and herself.
‘We’ll need to find shelter soon,’ Robert said.
The sun was beginning to parallel the earth. ‘There’s a thick copse of trees over the next hill. They aren’t just birches, but some oaks, they’ll provide more shelter than what we’ve got here.’
His eyes pierced hers before he nodded and returned to walking.
She tried to slow her heart when he turned away. Strong. Aye, that was the word for him, and just a little too knowing. There was no doubt he knew she had lied to him about the previous road they took.
Ah, well, there was no hope for it. She was lying to him and had been from the beginning. But her concern was for the children and getting them to the relative safety of Colquhoun land. She’d risk anything for their sakes.
Her only hope was that Robert wouldn’t abandon them when he realised she had risked his life as well as her own.
* * *
It didn’t take long to make camp, to find food or put the children to rest. Even Creighton fell asleep in only a few moments.
A pox on them all.
Without at least Maisie’s crying, she had no barrier against the man who sat near the fire. His arms resting against bent knees, his manner relaxed, patient. Waiting to talk to her.
Gaira walked around the children one more time. She stared at Maisie, hoping that the slight fluttering of her eyelids would mean she’d waken and Gaira could take care of her. But it was only the gentle fluttering of sleep. Nothing more.
Chiding herself for the coward she was, she walked quietly around the fire and sat near him. She thought she had sat far enough away so his nearness would not affect her, but she was wrong. He’d probably have to be across the sea for her not to be aware of him now.
‘I need some truth.’
She didn’t take her eyes from the fire, but nodded once in acknowledgement.
