Circle of Honor

by Carol Umberger

  “Aye, I know all about yer plans. Do ye truly wish to leave yer home?”

  Her back straightened. “I have no home. All has been taken from us.”

  “If ye have life, ye have all ye need to begin again.”

  She met his gaze, and the stab of pity in her eyes revealed her knowledge of the gravity of his illness.

  “I know I’m dying, lass. ’Tis to yer credit yer face didna light with glee when ye realized it.”

  She looked away.

  Gently he repeated his earlier question. “Do ye truly wish to leave Scotland?”

  “In all honesty, my laird, I don’t know what I want except to be reunited with my kinsmen.” Her eyes glistened as she whispered, “And to feel safe again.”

  Her pain moved him, and suddenly he felt very old and tired. And useless. He offered his hand. “Come here, lass.”

  She rose and, standing close, took his proffered hand.

  He fought his drowsiness. “I consider myself a good judge of character, and I see strength in ye. Under other circumstances, I would consider ye a good match for Adam.”

  Her eyes widened in disbelief. “If I weren’t a servant, or if I were still a maid?”

  He studied her as his weariness tugged at him. “Your innocence was stolen from you, child. I do not hold it against you, nor would Adam or any man worthy of the name.” He rubbed his eyes in an effort to rub away the fatigue. “I’m too tired to debate any more today. Come back tomorrow, and we’ll talk of this some more.”

  She seemed about to argue, then thought better of it.

  As she turned to leave, he asked, “Do ye by any chance have the gift for storytelling, lass?”

  With a puzzled frown, she answered, “I know the old legends, aye.”

  “Then ye will recite to me after ye’ve broken yer fast on the morrow.”

  She regarded him, then rewarded him with a small smile. “As you wish, my laird.” The door closed quietly behind her.

  A fine day’s work, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

  THE DAY BEGAN as all her mornings began of late—waiting for Daron and praying he was well and as anxious as she to be gone. Hoping to help the time pass quickly, she made her way to Angus, only to be turned away from his chamber this morning by an obviously troubled Eva.

  “He’s worn himself out.”

  “I am most sorry, Lady Eva. I hope he is soon recovered.”

  “ ’Tis in God’s hands,” she replied and walked away, leaving Gwenyth to wonder if Eva blamed her for the old man’s weariness. She had enjoyed the last several mornings with him.

  Disappointed at not having Angus’s company, Gwenyth retired to her room, resigned to sewing and needlework as a means to pass the time. She took the midday meal there, alone with her thoughts.

  A rap on the door signaled the servant’s return to remove the tray, and Gwenyth was startled to see Adam standing in the doorway after the girl had gone.

  He held his bonnet in front of him, looking for all the world like a petitioner for alms or some other favor. “My lady?”

  “Aye?”

  “I thought, well, my father thought you might like to ride today.”

  Gwenyth glanced out the winnock at the bright sunshine, a welcome contrast to the past several days of gloom. A ride and the chance for fresh air would be wonderful.

  “I believe my ribs are sufficiently healed. Aye, I should like that very much, especially if you will accompany me.”

  Adam actually blushed at her words, and Gwenyth suddenly felt more free and at ease than she had in some time.

  He tipped his head. “We’ll ride outside the castle walls, if you wish.”

  “That sounds wonderful. I’ll need to ask your mother for suitable clothes. And Adam, I prefer to ride astride, if that won’t offend you.”

  “Well, then. So you shall. Meet me at the stables when the sun is straight overhead. I could use some exercise myself.”

  He turned and left, and Gwenyth called for a maid to help her change into the skirt Eva sent at her request.

  Gwenyth met Adam as agreed, and soon a lovely dun mare was saddled and bridled for her. Gwenyth loved to ride—loved the tangy smell of horseflesh and the gentle sway as they walked. This ride must surely prove more pleasant than her journey to Moy, when she’d been wounded in body and soul. Within moments of crossing the drawbridge, she felt the weight of her situation depart, and her heart lightened.

  They rode through the forest and came to an open meadow. Adam seemed disinclined to converse, and she was happy to ride in silence, observing a golden eagle making lazy circles on the air currents, rabbits scurrying for cover, and the fine, sunny day that had emerged from this morning’s fog.

  The desire to urge her horse to a canter, to fly over the ground and lose her melancholy in the fleet hoofbeats of the animal, came over her. But remembering her companion, she thought better of her impulse. Unhappy with the necessity to placate her keeper, she drew alongside of Adam.

  “I should like to canter—will you join me?”

  “Nay, lass, go on ahead.”

  She couldn’t believe what she heard. “You trust me, then.”

  He looked her straight in the eye. “Until you give reason to do otherwise, aye. Go on, I can see you’re impatient with this pace. Stay within sight, lass, and I see no harm.”

  Flashing him her brightest smile, she set her heels to the mare’s side and broke free of her worries as the horse flew along the ground. She glanced back and saw Adam gently lope after her. Heeding his words, she circled her horse back around, staying within his view, grateful for this bit of freedom.

  When her animal tired, she slowed it to a walk and drew up next to the other horse. They rode up a hill, and reaching the top, she stopped at an overlook of the loch and the castle in its midst.

  “This view is even more lovely than the one from the path.”

  “Aye, it is.”

  “What is that building there on the smaller island?”

  “ ’Tis a prison.”

  Gwenyth suppressed a gasp, wondering if that’s where he would put her if he learned her identity. Quickly she changed the subject, wishing to leave this place for the relative safety of the keep. “I don’t mean to keep you from your duties.”

  “I can take the time.” He pointed ahead. “We’ll walk about the loch—cool the horses.”

  They walked the horses slowly down the hill and around the loch toward the castle entrance. The sun glinted off the water’s surface and a cow lowed in the distance, but the lovely setting did nothing to calm her nerves.

  Adam cleared his throat. “My father wanted me to thank you for saving my life, Gwenyth. ’Twas a brave thing you did, defying Leod that way without knowing me from, well, from Adam.” He grinned, and she felt her heart leap at the beauty of his features.

  She must direct their conversation toward duty, both his and hers. “I may have saved your life, but Leod can still use our marriage against you, can’t he?”

  “Leod will use whatever leverage he can find. But I don’t think marriage to a servant will harm me much. They’ve called a council meeting three weeks from now to vote.”

  “And you will have to defend yourself—convince them you aren’t a rapist.”

  “Aye.” He was quiet a moment. “Best way I could do that is to have a true marriage with the woman who accused me.”

  Panic welled in her, panic born not in fear of a man touching her, but of this man’s healing touch. She schooled her features and voice to portray a severity she did not feel as she exclaimed, “You don’t mean that. I’ll be gone by then, Adam.” She hoped it was true, for the longer she stayed the more she was drawn to him and away from her hatred. Memories of Edward faded fast in the glow of Adam’s smile.

  “Aye, you’ll be gone.”

  She halted her horse and Adam’s mount stopped beside her, so close their knees brushed. “Will they believe you? About the assault, I mean?”

  “Some will,
some won’t.”

  Adam pointed to a pile of rocks shadowed by shade trees. “Come, there are things you should know.”

  They dismounted and, being a good horseman, Adam exchanged their bridles for halters. Then he tethered the horses loosely so they could enjoy the lush grass. Adam led her to a place where they sat with their backs to the sun-warmed rocks. A breeze fondled the leaves, making them glimmer in the sunlight. The peaceful setting belied the nervous twitch in her stomach as she wondered what more Adam had to say.

  She didn’t have to wait long.

  “Angus has told you that I was betrothed?”

  She nodded. “Aye, he mentioned it the other morning.”

  “Aye. Suisan, her name was. She was very young, but I was besotted with her. And Angus wanted the alliance to strengthen my claim to be chief. We were to marry when I returned from serving Bruce.”

  “But you were wounded at Dalry.” By her kinsmen. The thought that someone she knew had wounded Adam saddened her.

  “Oh, aye.” He picked at a cocklebur on his woolen stocking. “I came home more dead than alive. Praise be, Nathara was there to tend me from the start, or I’d be dead, not just maimed.”

  No wonder Nathara felt possessive of the handsome young laird. She’d saved his life. “Nathara did an excellent job—the muscle has healed well. And I’ve seen you fight.”

  Adam raised an eyebrow. “When?”

  Gwenyth smoothed her skirt before admitting, “I can see the lists from my room. Even with your arm, you fight better than many men.”

  He studied her. “You’re quick to come to my defense.”

  “You have earned my admiration.”

  “Then I’m a lucky man.”

  Gwenyth felt her face grow warm. She changed the subject. “So, this Suisan withdrew from the betrothal?”

  “There was little hope I would survive, and I must have been frightful to look at. Suisan might have honored her promise, given a bit of time, but her uncle married her off quickly.”

  “And you are convinced she rejected you because you aren’t a whole man.”

  “You don’t believe that?”

  “Nay, I don’t,” she said with conviction.

  He was quiet for several minutes. “Her uncle is Leod Macpherson.”

  “Oh. Oh, my. Leod used her to weaken your claim.”

  Adam lifted his hand from the business with the now banished cocklebur. “Aye, this didn’t start with you, Gwenyth. It’s been coming for some time.”

  Gwenyth stared at him, curiosity aroused. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

  “Angus wanted you to know.”

  To know what? A feeling of unease stole over her. The feeling that she stood on the edge of that chasm again and Adam intended to suggest she jump. “For what purpose?”

  He squirmed and avoided her gaze.

  “Why do I need to know these things about your past?” she gently urged.

  “Suisan’s defection turned out to be a good thing. Her rejection angered me and gave me a purpose and drove me to become well. For that, I’m grateful to her.”

  “And what would you have me do?” Another step closer to the edge.

  Adam placed his fingers on her chin and raised her face to his. “You have been the victim of violence, as have I. I have prayed about it and I would have you be my true wife. I think we are well-suited.”

  She pulled away from his touch, even though she knew he wouldn’t harm her. But his request was anything but harmless. The chasm seemed to open at her feet. She jumped up, moving away from Adam. “You are asking me to make the marriage real?”

  He rose as well, more slowly. After a few moments, moments in which her heart thudded crazily, he asked, “Would that be so awful?”

  No. Yes. Her hands fluttered, and she grabbed the material of her skirt to still them. “You are bold, Adam. Have you no care for my feelings?”

  “Aye, lass, I do. You’ve been deeply wounded. The right man could help you heal. I have prayed on it and I believe this may be God’s plan for us.”

  “But—”

  “You don’t believe that God brought us together for a reason?”

  “I . . . yes, I have had that same notion. But I believe he just wants us to heal each other before we part.”

  “Why? Do you find me repugnant?”

  “Nay, of course not. You are not offensive, my laird. I simply cannot be a wife.”

  “You wouldn’t enjoy caring for a home and overseeing the running of this castle?”

  “As if your mother would allow it.” She found it difficult to harden her heart against him, despite her need to leave and move forward with the plans that Leod had interrupted.

  Adam grinned. “Well, that is a difficulty to be handled with care. But she would yield to my wife, did I have one truly.”

  He untied the horses and gave her the lead to hers. They walked slowly back toward the castle, horses following behind.

  “Why are you pursuing this?” she asked. “You know nothing about me.”

  “I know you’ve no dowry, you trapped me into handfasting, and, saved my life. You’re a poor prospect for a bride, Gwenyth of Buchan. Still, I would know—what if we had met under more auspicious circumstances? What then? Would you still find me repugnant as a husband?”

  “You are not repugnant.”

  “Ah, but I’m scarred and damaged. You would pass me by, no doubt.”

  She gave him a weak smile. Evidently the earlier rejection by his betrothed still pained him, if he pushed her so to confirm what he so falsely believed about himself. How could he think that no woman would want him? But weren’t she and Adam alike in this regard? Hadn’t she wondered if Edward would still want her when he learned she was no longer an innocent maid?

  Edward with his ambitions—which would be more important to him? Her emotional and physical well-being or her worth as a political pawn?

  She looked at Adam, his beautiful hands, the blue eyes and curling blond hair, the handsome features of his face. She would want him if Leod hadn’t ruined her very soul with his cruelty. Surely there would be no harm in admitting her own shortcomings in order to save this gentle man’s ego.

  “Are you searching for a compliment, my laird?”

  “I would have the truth.”

  “You have a fine manly form and a good heart. A normal woman would be a fool to turn you away. But, I—”

  Tears welled and she dashed them away, angry that she should lose control when she’d sworn she wouldn’t. But here was this wonderful man, hurting every bit as much as she did, no doubt wondering why his charms failed to heal her. But they did heal. They most certainly did.

  They stopped walking and he wiped her tears with his thumb. “There now, lass. I’m sorry to make you cry.” He pulled her into his embrace, and she allowed it, surprised at how comforting it felt. When she had calmed, he cupped her chin, lifting it until her gaze met his.

  “Gwenyth.” He caressed her jaw with his thumb. “Surely you know that what happened to you is not how it is when a man and a woman care for each other.”

  Amazed that he turned away from his own need so easily to tend to her, she said, “I know no such thing.”

  “Then let me assure you that what you experienced is not natural. It was violent and had nothing to do with tender feelings.”

  “You are only saying so to convince me to give in to you.”

  His jaw clenched, and she knew she made him angry. Yet his reply was calm, reproachful. “I will admit that the thought of . . . well, let’s just say that the thought of you occupies far too much of my time lately.”

  She gasped and tried to pull away, but he held her firmly and with care.

  “Gwenyth, I would be a fool to give you my heart when you are so set on leaving.”

  “Give your heart?”

  “Ah, dear one. You see, you know nothing of the bond that can be created between lovers.”

  “Can be? It isn’t always so?”


  “There is always a bond formed. The question is, how strong and enduring is it? ’Tis a gamble I’ll not risk without God’s blessing. So, you see, you are safe with me.”

  If only she could believe that was true.

  Gwenyth was touched by his admission of his need to be loved for himself, and not for his title. A need made all the more important for his physical limitations. She wished she could be that woman for him.

  Now where had that thought come from? Shaking her head at the absurdity of such a notion, she said, “I have brought you nothing but problems, my laird. We must both pray Daron is soon found.”

  “I’m not altogether certain I want to give you up.”

  She swallowed. “You will have to, my lord.”

  “If you truly cannot abide a marriage with me, so be it. But I ask you to think on it. Perhaps pray on it as well.”

  Pray on it? “God doesn’t hear my prayers anymore.” If Adam knew the truth about her, he wouldn’t ask this. How much longer could she live the lies? And did she want to? “You want me to stay. But I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  There was no bridge to span the distance between her and Adam. “I’ve made a promise I must keep.”

  “To Daron?”

  “Aye.” And Edward and all those who supported a marriage between them which would unite half of Scotland against Bruce.

  “Fine. Go with your cousin. But while you are here, remember you promised me your loyalty.” He turned from her and briskly rebridled the horses, then lifted her into the saddle. They rode the short distance to the causeway in silence.

  Gwenyth could not believe what she heard in his voice when he spoke of Daron. Anger at her rejection, yes. But surely he’d sounded jealous. Jealous of Daron. Oh, this had gone on long enough. If Daron didn’t materialize within the week, she would ask Adam to provide an escort. She must leave Moy before she hurt this man who’d done nothing to deserve it.

  Inside the bailey they halted the horses. Adam reached to help her dismount and she fought the urge to avoid his touch. Adam took her elbow, guiding her into the keep. “Come.”

  She resisted the instinct to pull away from him.

  “Since your cousin continues to elude me, you best reconcile yourself to spending a while longer at Moy.” He sounded as if he hoped Daron would remain lost. “You will take your meals in the hall from now on.”