Susan King - [Celtic Nights 02]

by The Swan Maiden

  He glanced over at Juliana, who dashed tears away from her eyes. "Not for a while, true. But after our child is born next spring, we will visit here as soon as the child is old enough to travel. We will stay for a long while then, if you like."

  "Come in the summer, when the swans are on the river!" Eleanor said. Beside her, Catherine nodded agreement.

  Gawain looked at Juliana. "The summer would be a good time to visit. The swans are earthbound then, and cannot fly."

  Lady Clarice nodded. "And I will be waiting here for you. I promise it," she added fervently, grasping his hand.

  * * *

  Elladoune

  Juliana stood with Gawain on the shore of Loch nan Eala at sunset, beneath a pink and brilliant sky. The autumn leaves in the forest were masses of gold and wine and flame. Their colors spilled into the loch, where the swans glided, part of a perfect mirrored reflection.

  The castle rose on its promontory, solid and sure. Beyond the loch, the face in the mountain appeared again, touched, as always, by setting or rising sunlight.

  Juliana looked at Gawain. "Soon old Beira will be let loose from her prison, and winter will be upon us. And the swans will fly south again."

  He smiled slightly as he studied the mountain. She loved those private, quiet expressions of contentment that she saw in him more often lately. He reached out to take her hand.

  "Not all of the swans will fly away from here," he said, and lifted her hand to kiss it.

  The sunset grew more fiery, a bright poem of a sky, and the shadows deepened. The wind had a crisp edge. Gawain turned and Juliana walked with him toward Elladoune, her hand still tucked inside his.

  "Gabhan," she said. "I have something to tell you."

  He slanted an affectionate glance at her. "I already know you are quick with child," he said. "Have you some other surprise for me?"

  "I do. I have decided to take my oath."

  He raised his brows. "Oh? You have been nicely avoiding that for months. I expected you to sidestep it indefinitely."

  "I wanted to, but with a new sheriff appointed to Dalbrae, the matter will come up again. I have decided to say the words, and the sheriff will sign the affidavit, and 'twill be done."

  "What caused this change of heart?"

  "I havena decided to declare for the English, if that is what you are wondering—"

  "Hardly," he drawled.

  "I only thought to keep you out of prison. Charges of treason could come any day. I am surprised that the king has not sent word to you already about that, but they say he is ill, and will not live long." She hoped it was not a great sin to wish Edward well away from Scotland, no matter what took him away.

  "There are other measures that can be taken to keep me out of the king's dungeon, and free of another oath of obeisance."

  "If my oath will help, I will do it." She stopped and looked up at him earnestly. "I would do anything for you."

  "Offering me a rescue, Swan Maid?" he murmured.

  "If you need it of me," she said.

  He cupped her chin in his hand. "I thank you for your loyalty. But there is no need to take the pledge for my sake."

  "I have made up my mind to do this. Send word to the sheriff that I will come to Dalbrae this week. What is his name?"

  He shook his head. "The signed writ for your oath has already been sent to the king."

  She frowned, confused. "How could that be?"

  "The new sheriff saw to it when he came to Dalbrae last week. He told me so this morning."

  "You have seen him already? We just returned from Avenel late yesterday! Tell me," she said impatiently. "What sort of man is he? Why did he send that writ out?"

  "I think," he said, eyes twinkling, "Sir Laurence will make an excellent sheriff for Glen Fillan."

  "Laurie?" She laughed. "You knew and did not tell me?"

  "I wanted to surprise you." He smiled. "He was appointed sheriff by his wife's cousin, Sir Aymer, and came to Dalbrae while we were gone. He found the writ for the oath among some other documents—De Soulis had it prepared before the fair. You never took the oath, but Laurie signed it, swearing that you had, and sent it by messenger to the king with some other documents. 'Tis done. His gift to us, he says."

  She laughed again with pure relief and stretched toward him. He gathered her into his arms, and she closed her eyes for a moment. The cold autumn wind cut past, but his solid warmth shielded her.

  "Laurie will make an excellent sheriff," she said. "But what of Gabhan MacDuff, known to the English as Gawain Avenel? Will he pursue that man for treason?"

  Gawain tucked her hand in his arm and began to stroll up the hill toward Elladoune. "By Scots law, if a man is born in Scotland, he is obligated only to the King of Scots."

  "Good," she said. "I hoped it would be so."

  "I pledged to Edward and have broken the vow, and there is not much to be done about that," he explained. "But the king is so ill, and growing worse, that his advisors no longer care about smaller matters of justice. They are leaving such things to the regional sheriffs and lords."

  "Ah. And what will Sir Sheriff do about your case?"

  "He says that Glenshie is nearly impossible to find. And Sir Laurie says it is too much trouble for knights in full mail to ride out in search of one renegade, when there are other matters to concern them—market fairs and farmers' disputes, and the like."

  Juliana smiled, then tugged on his arm so that he stopped. Then she leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth.

  His hand pressed the small of her back, his other hand brushed along her jaw. Warm, hungry, his lips slanted over hers.

  "So you approve of the sheriff's decision," he murmured.

  "Very much," she whispered.

  "There is one thing more—he has offered to foster Alec and Iain at Dalbrae. But—are you ready to let the young ones out of the nest after keeping them close these months?"

  "Not yet," she said, thinking ahead to the spring, when their child would be born at Elladoune. She wanted her younger brothers to have a sense of family. "But when they are ready, that would be a good place for them. They adore Sir Laurie."

  "They will have the run of Dalbrae, no doubt," Gawain drawled. "Laurie says his wife will be coming north soon. She is impatient to take the journey—she sent word to Laurie that she is healthy, and he should not fret about her condition." He grinned. "Lady Maude will be a good friend to you, I think."

  She held his hand and laughed. "Sometimes I wonder if I can hold any more happiness inside. Our life is more wonderful than I ever could have dreamed."

  "Just one thing more," he said softly. "The ransom for Niall and Will has been paid. They will come home before winter."

  She gasped, tears springing to her eyes. "Paid?"

  "I asked Henry to pay it from my revenues," Gawain said quietly. "I have some land in Northumberland that is farmed by tenants and produces well. The coin was readily available."

  She took both of his hands, fingers wrapped together. "I can never thank you enough," she whispered.

  "No need," he murmured.

  "You just released two rebels, you know," she said.

  "Now we will be surrounded by them." He smiled a little. "There is something else—and I ask your blessing. I am going to send word to James Lindsay soon to request that he come here to meet with me."

  "Jamie? Of course you have my blessing for it. Why?"

  "I mean to offer my services as a spy for the Bruce. I have contacts and influence as constable of an English-held castle."

  "Gabhan—it is a great risk."

  He nodded, his gaze sweeping past the castle, the loch, the mountains. "It is something I must do."

  "What of Laurie? The sheriff would not want you to place him in the poor position of being your enemy."

  "Laurie suggested it to me himself. I told you that he leaned that way. He says he likes Scots ale too well to be unkind to those who make it. And the sheriff gets the best ale." He laughed and put his arm a
round her as they climbed the hill.

  Hearing a fast and rhythmic sound, Juliana looked overhead. Gawain did as well.

  A huge white swan flew toward the loch, its great wings beating in a steady cadence. Dipping, sinking, the bird landed on the loch with a flurry and a splash. Then it settled on the water, curving head and neck in a graceful arc.

  "Ach Dhia," Juliana breathed. "Look!"

  "What is it?" Gawain asked, glancing where she pointed.

  Guinevere glided across the loch with her four cygnets, now grown larger, their grayish feathers mingled with white. They streamed in a line toward the newcomer.

  "Artan," she said. Tears pooled in her eyes. "He is back." She looked at Gawain. "He found his way home after all."

  He drew her again into the circle of his arm. "I knew he would, even if it took him all his life to find his way here."

  Juliana tilted her head, and he kissed her, familiar and welcome and comforting. The child within her tumbled, and she looped her arms around her husband's neck and smiled. "Whatever happens," she said, "we will be together here."

  Gawain nodded. "Aye, we will, my love. We will."

  The End

  Want more from Susan King?

  Page forward for a Special Author Note

  followed by an excerpt from

  THE SWORD MAIDEN

  The Celtic Nights Series

  Book Three

  Dear Reader,

  Swans and swan lore are shining threads in the Celtic as well as the medieval fabric. The history, the legends, and the natural care of these beautiful birds, who lend themselves so well to imagery and metaphor, were a pleasure to research. As early as the twelfth century, swans in Britain were regarded as the exclusive property of the English monarchs. Masters of Swans were appointed by the crown to care for the birds, and to raise them for table and captivity on rivers and lakes. Today, swans in Britain are carefully tended and protected.

  Symbolism was never far from the medieval mind, and swans have always lent themselves to that. Medieval chronicles record that in May, 1306, Edward I of England held a grandiose feast at Westminster, in which he knighted, en masse, three hundred knights. Later in the festivities, two captive swans were brought into the great hall, where the king then vowed revenge against the Scots he so despised.

  The link between swans and Scotland exists in the rich Celtic tradition of swan legends and tales; the Lindsay crest features a swan with wings raised. For purposes of the story, the legend of the swans of Elladoune was invented, and a second Feast of the Swans was created in Newcastle, where the English king stayed in 1306 while gathering his armies.

  Readers who are familiar with my previous novel, Laird of the Wind, will recognize Sir Gawain Avenel from his introduction there, and will know James Lindsay and Isobel Seton and their involvement in the cause of Scotland.

  Finally, while arrow catching is possible to do, it is best left to experts! I was fortunate to be instructed by a tenth degree black belt who has trained to master the technique.

  If you'd like to know more about my print books and ebooks, please visit my websites, www.susanfraserking.com, and www.susankingbooks.com. I'm also part of the Word Wenches blog at www.wordwenches.com.

  Happy Reading!

  Susan King

  Page forward for an excerpt from

  THE SWORD MAIDEN

  The Celtic Nights Series

  Book Three

  Excerpt from

  The Sword Maiden

  The Celtic Nights Series

  Book Three

  by

  Susan King

  National Bestselling Author

  THE SWORD MAIDEN

  Reviews & Accolades

  "Against the backdrop of the Hundred Years' War, King deftly spins a mystical Highland romance."

  ~Publishers Weekly

  "Magic, myth and history blend to perfection..."

  ~Romantic Times Book Club

  (Top Pick, K.I.S.S. Award)

  "Bewitching... entrancing. Highly recommended!"

  ~The Romance Readers Connection

  Scotland, 1431

  Lachlann walked the garron pony over the meadow to the stable, while Eva strolled beside him. She glanced up at him, so tall and strong in the moonlight, his dented armor a dull gleam, his black hair sweeping back. He looked—so familiar, and yet so changed. And she had never thought to see him again.

  "How is it you came home to Scotland so sudden in the night, after years gone?" she asked. "Are you well? Your face is scarred. You were wounded in that war over in France."

  "I am fine, Eva," he murmured.

  "Are you a knight now?"

  "I am."

  "When did you leave France?"

  "A few months ago."

  Despite his terseness, she went on. "Are you a knight and a landholder? How did you fare in France? Have you been back in Scotland for long?" She knew she chattered on and could not help it. Stunned by his arrival, she craved the reassurance of their old friendship—if it could ever be reclaimed, after their parting when he had left three years earlier.

  "Hold," he said, half laughing. "I have never been as fast at answering your questions as you are at asking them. I am well enough. I came back alive." He shrugged, walking beside her. "A knight, but without land. France was... a harsh place. I returned to Scotland last summer and have been in Perth."

  "My cousins came back from France last winter, and told me that the war there is difficult for the French, Scots, and English alike."

  "It is war, Eva. Why are you staying here instead of at your home in Innisfarna? I did not expect to find you at my own mother's home, and she gone. And where is..." He paused. "Your husband? You did marry that fellow?"

  She halted in the yard. "I... am away from Innisfarna for now. And Colin Campbell is not my husband—yet," she said bluntly. "We are betrothed. He was in France also, for a while."

  "Ah," he murmured. "So when is the wedding?"

  She hesitated, wishing she did not have to answer that. "When he returns to Argyll. He is away."

  "Ah," he said again, just that.

  "He is an ambassador to France. Did you see him there? My cousins said you were a guard in the French court."

  "I never saw him. I was at court only a short while. After that I rode with a special company. If you are not at Innisfarna, who is? I saw horses in the stable there, when I went past," he said abruptly. "Whose are they?"

  "The king installed a garrison there, but I refuse to stay at the castle, one woman among so many men. The soldiers came here just before my father—" Her voice wavered.

  "I heard." His voice gentled. "I am sorry, Eva."

  She drew a shaky breath. "There is food and water stored in the stable for your horse. Come this way."

  He led the horse inside and Eva followed. While he found an empty stall, she went down the aisle and lifted one of the large buckets of water placed there. Lachlann came toward her.

  "Let me take that," he said. "It is heavy."

  "It is no trouble," she said, but he took the bucket. "I am accustomed to hard work. Since I have been here, I have been fetching water, hoeing the garden, tending livestock, cooking and brewing, weaving baskets and mats, even cutting peat."

  He carried the bucket into the stall and emptied it into a low trough for the horse to drink. "I expected to find you the spoiled lady of a wealthy man, not doing the work of a farmer's wife."

  She bristled. "Spoiled? You know me better than that!"

  "Do I?" he murmured. His gaze met hers, held it. Then he turned away to remove the horse's saddle.

  Her cheeks heated again. "I will go back to the house and prepare you something to eat," she said stiffly. "Tomorrow I will find another place to stay."

  He set the saddle down. "Why would you do that?"

  "We cannot stay here together, and alone!"

  "I will not toss you out. It is your house now. My mother left it to you. She thought—I was gone." He began to brush
the horse's back. "I will sleep in the smithy, as it was once mine, and no one is using it now."

  "Will you take up blacksmithing again? And sword making? We could use both here."

  "I do not think I will stay long."

  Disappointment plummeted through her. Wanting to know more of his plans, she waited, but he only tended to the horse. She studied his armor, the good leather harnesses for the horse, the carved and padded wooden saddle, the scabbarded sword and other weapons.

  "That is fine gear for a Highlander," she said. "My cousins said you did well in France. They said you rode with the Maid, the one who tried to save her country. We heard of her even here," she added. "Such a one!"

  "I was one of her guards. There were several of us assigned by the French king to watch her back."

  "You knew her!"

  "So I did."

  "And were you granted rewards for your deeds there?"

  He said nothing, bending to lift one of the horse's back feet to examine the hoof. His hands were knowing, his voice quiet as he murmured to the animal. Eva watched, her thoughts tumbling, but one question burned within her.

  "Do you have a wife?" Her heart thumped hard.

  "I do not." He did not look up.

  His terseness frustrated her. "Why do you come back here so sudden and covert, armed like a king's man?"

  He straightened. "You were ever a curious girl, with a nimble tongue for talking. I see that has not changed much."

  "Not much," she said testily. "And you were ever given to secrets. I see that has not changed either."

  "No secrets worth telling. I simply came home."

  "I suspect you intend to do more than smithing here." She folded her arms. "I know you."

  "Used to," he said. "I have a letter for Simon," he admitted as he settled a blanket over the horse's back. "From the king."

  "If you are here to arrest him, you will not find my brother easily."

  "I am a messenger. Just that." He glanced up. "Eva, it is late. Tomorrow I will look for your brother. For now, all I want is a bed. And just for tonight, I would like to sleep in the house."