Circle of Honor

by Carol Umberger

  With that, he strode away from her, taking all the warmth of the day with him. Something about his vulnerability, his need to be accepted, drew Gwenyth. Here was a just man, a well-favored man who, through an unfortunate accident, must prove what he’d always taken for granted. That he could rule his clan.

  Her only hope was that Daron would come for her to set sail for England on the next available ship. But the more she considered the meeting between her cousin and her husband, the more she despaired. For then Adam would learn the truth and the depth of her deceit.

  His words, the idea that she might remain at Moy, were both a source of comfort and pain. She felt safe with Adam, dared to dream of Moy as her home. Dared to consider that maybe Adam and Moy were God’s plan, as Adam said. Until obligations reminded her of the impossibility of such a notion. Her father would roll over in his very grave if she were to swear allegiance to the man who killed him. And that is what marriage to Adam would mean.

  She must not forget her father’s death at the hands of Robert the Bruce or the terrible carnage Bruce had waged in Buchan. All those deaths and the destruction of her home must not go unanswered. She and Edward would reclaim what Bruce had taken from them. And Robert the Bruce would regret he’d ever set foot in that church.

  TWELVE

  GWENYTH WENT TO HER ROOM to wash and change clothes and bring her emotions under control. How could she possibly accept Adam’s daft notion that God had brought them together to be man and wife? If marriage to Adam was part of God’s plan, then his timing was all wrong. She and Adam should have met before Edward had made his claim on her.

  Why would God pick a man whose clan and king were her enemies? It didn’t make sense.

  Remembering Adam’s order, she made her way to the great hall to eat the evening meal with the rest of the castle inhabitants. She wanted to arrive early, hoping to draw as little attention as possible to herself. A few who were already seated cast glances at her, but most ignored her, and she relaxed.

  Until she saw Nathara seated across the hall and glowering at her. Gwenyth quickly turned her head, her eyes downcast as she walked the rest of the way to the dais. A hushed silence alerted her before she walked into Adam. She looked up as he extended his hand to her.

  “Come,” he said. “I should have done this long before now.”

  He tugged on her hand, and she rose to her feet as panic set in. “My people need to be clear about my will in this matter.”

  She looked to Nathara and back to Adam. “Please, my laird. Nathara already hates me. I need no more enemies.”

  Adam glanced at the dais and said, “My food grows cold.” He indicated for a serving girl to bring food for Gwenyth and gently nudged Gwenyth into motion.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  He leaned down to whisper, “I told you. I believe God means us to stay together. If I am wrong, there’s no harm done if you sit here with me. You will be safer if Nathara and others see that I accept you as wife.” When they reached their seats, he lifted her hand to his lips, and she felt her face grow warm.

  “And you need your people to believe our marriage is agreeable to strengthen your position as laird.”

  “Aye. Exactly so.”

  Adam seated her, then called for attention. Every eye in the place looked to him as he spoke.

  “You have heard that Gwenyth of Buchan and I were forced to handfast. Despite those circumstances, we will use the allotted time to see if the marriage suits us. I ask you to continue to treat her with the respect due her position.”

  His glance around the room settled on Nathara, and he stared at her until she gave him a slight, forced nod. Then Adam sat down and the meal continued, though Gwenyth was uncomfortably aware that the buzz of conversation that ensued no doubt centered on her.

  Gwenyth excused herself as soon as she could and fled to her room.

  We will use the allotted time. Adam’s words haunted her. To learn what he promised to teach about tenderness—yes, it held definite appeal. Throw off her responsibilities; subdue the guilt of having survived when her family had not.

  Dare she ask God for guidance? Did she really want to know his will? Could she trust him to know what was best for her? There were no easy answers.

  How could she even think of remaining in the same country, let alone binding herself to a man loyal to the very king who’d killed her father, on a sacred altar, no less?

  Only Edward, with the backing of those loyal to him and his father, could possibly take the crown from Bruce. Bruce had no heir other than his brother, and the Comyns hoped that her marriage to Edward Balliol would avenge the wrongs done to her family and return the crown to them. She had only to marry and produce an heir, and those who remained loyal to Edward would rally to depose Bruce.

  But she had a husband, a fine highland laird, and she could not deny his appeal.

  Somehow, she must. She returned to her room and for the first time in nearly two years, Gwenyth got down on her knees and prayed for God’s guidance in her future. “I cannot promise him the full time of our handfast, Lord. You alone know my dilemma,” she pleaded. “But I give to you and Adam the time that remains before I leave for England. If he is my intended mate, Father, open my heart. Please, Father, if it be thy will, open my heart.”

  ADAM’S CLEAR WARNING to the clan that Gwenyth was to be treated as his wife freed her to roam the island. Still, she kept a guard with her, since she remained uncomfortable among people she considered enemies. She feared she might never again feel safe alone.

  If Bruce had learned of her alliance with Edward Balliol, he no doubt had men searching for her. If a visitor to Moy should recognize her and disclose her identity, her hours would be numbered.

  Today the man Sim accompanied her to the tower on the rear wall. Steps led to the top of it and Gwenyth climbed, curious to see the view from this side of the castle. She reached the top and was momentarily made dizzy by the height of the drop. Once steadied, she noted a path leading to a lovely, small cove.

  The blue of the water and its gentle lapping against the rocks brought on a rush of remembrances, and she gave in to them. For a moment, she was ten years old, and her father and brothers were shouting at her. Come in, we’ll teach you to swim.

  And so they had, her beautiful brothers and patient Papa. Some of the joy left her as their voices faded from memory. Gone now, except in her heart. A heart that once had been filled with love and now overflowed with bitterness. The bright happy child she’d been had become a woman estranged from God and caught up in schemes of power and politics.

  Last night’s time in prayer had barely lifted the barrier she’d placed between herself and God. But she would keep trying, for the priest had reminded her that “Blessed are they who keep his testimonies, who seek him with the whole heart.”

  Would her heart ever know God’s love again?

  As she stared at the beckoning water, a fragment of peace stole over her, and instinctively she knew that without faith, lasting peace and love would elude her. “But without faith it is impossible to please him, for he who comes to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of those who diligently seek him.”

  Unable—no, unwilling—to look deeper, she returned her attention to the water. It called to her as it had that day with her father and brothers. She closed her heart to the burdensome memories and turned to Sim. “Is there a gate?”

  “Aye, my lady.” Sim pointed, and Gwenyth hurried down the steps within the tower, even as she asked, “Can we open it?”

  Sim nodded.

  She followed him, and upon arriving at the bottom, saw that the gate was guarded by two men who sat in the shelter of a lean-to built against the wall. They opened the gate and portcullis, and Gwenyth and Sim walked through. They made their way carefully down the rock-strewn path. Early morning clouds had given way to weak sunlight, and the protected cove beckoned despite the chilly air.

  Admonishing Sim to go some distance away and t
urn his back, she watched until he’d walked far enough to give her privacy. Then she stripped to her chemise and waded in. The water was cold, but she was determined to swim anyway.

  Rolling onto her back, she floated, relaxing and drifting in the quiet refuge. The clouds dissipated, and the sun grew warmer. She put her foot toward the bottom just as a strong hand rested on her shoulder.

  She screamed, and her attacker immediately let go. She whirled, shouting, “Get away!”

  “For heaven’s sake, Gwenyth, cease. And stop screaming or you’ll empty the castle.”

  In her haste, she tumbled facefirst into the water, stifling her shouts. Even though she sputtered and thrashed to gain a foothold, the man made no move to touch her again.

  “I’m sorry. ’Twas thoughtless of me, lass.”

  “Adam?” she managed to choke as she regained her footing.

  “Aye, and I’m sorry to startle you so. I wasn’t thinking.”

  She wiped water and hair from her eyes. “Why didn’t those half-witted guards tell me you were swimming nearby?”

  He glanced upward. “I don’t know—I guess they are used to me and didn’t think of it.”

  “You swim often?”

  He smiled. “Aye, you told me to force my arm beyond its limits, remember?”

  She well remembered that night on the parapet and the way the moon had blessed him. Now here he stood, sparkling drops of water clinging to the crisp, blond hair covering his chest. With the sun behind him, the shadow of his face deepened the blue of his eyes. His gaze strayed to her neck . . .

  As if aware of the impropriety of his action, Adam jerked his head up, then grinned sheepishly. “Seems I’ve just compounded my poor behavior, Gwenyth. Once again, I apologize.”

  She wanted to distrust him. But at every turn, he had proved to be a gentleman, always willing to show his tender heart and to help her heal. Each day it became more and more difficult to deny the attraction he held for her. Or to deny the possibility that he was right about their purpose for being together.

  What would it hurt, for just a few minutes, to yield? To just enjoy his company, to hold nothing back and pretend she was someone else. Someone who was free to love where her heart might lead her.

  Throwing caution and good sense to the wind, she tossed her head and smiled. “Your apology lacks sincerity, my laird.”

  “Does it now?” His grin deepened. “Well, then, I’ll leave you to enjoy your swim in peace.”

  Should she bid him stay? Or let him go? What harm . . . ? He waded into deeper water, sliding into the depths, and began to stroke.

  “Adam,” she called.

  He halted, then stood in chest-deep water.

  She swallowed. Her mind fastened on the first idea that came to her. “Could I swim with you?”

  “It’s deep,” he warned.

  She stepped toward him. “I can swim.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  Pushing aside nagging doubts about the wisdom of her actions, she replied, “I want to.” And she did.

  “THEN COME.” Adam extended his hand, very much aware that Gwenyth had just taken an important step toward defeating the demons set loose during the assault. And perhaps a first step in accepting him as God’s choice for her mate. He knew the idea made little sense from a logical standpoint, but then Adam wasn’t privy to God’s logic. The thought made him smile until he remembered her promise to Daron.

  Their fingers touched, and Adam drew her into deeper water.

  Perhaps by the time Daron showed up to claim her, Adam would have won her heart. He had placed this in God’s hands, trusting that God would look out for Adam’s, and Gwenyth’s, best interests.

  They swam toward the middle of the lake, Adam matching his strokes to Gwenyth’s shorter ones. They drifted, allowing the gentle current to carry them as they floated.

  “We should head back before you tire, Gwenyth. Next time we’ll bring a boat and do some fishing.” How far did her newfound trust go? “Will you join me one morning?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Not far enough. Best not to read too much into her acceptance of his company today. All in God’s time.

  They reached shallow water and, in unspoken agreement, recognized a need to lighten the moment. Who splashed whom first was unclear, but soon they were frolicking like children, whooping and dunking and sputtering. Gwenyth seemed to forget her fears and Adam’s hands caught her and tossed her into deeper water. She shrieked, but in joy, not fear.

  She retaliated by kicking water in his face. Despite the activity, though, the cold water took its toll and Adam called a halt.

  “Your lips are blue, my lady. Methinks we should sit in the sun and dry out.”

  She grinned at his teasing words, and after one last splash, they headed for shore. Adam ran to the guards’ shack and produced two large cloths, which they used to dry off before draping around themselves for warmth and modesty. Adam watched as Gwenyth lay back with her eyes closed and pillowed her head on her arms. She seemed at ease with him, and he warned himself not to do anything to frighten her.

  But how he wanted to lean over and place a kiss upon her brow! And her lips . . .

  She opened her eyes, and his thoughts must have been written clear as day on his face, for her smile wavered. Still, she didn’t flinch or pull away as he caressed her cheek, gently sliding his finger across the soft skin. Her eyes closed, and she leaned toward him.

  Warm sun bathed them, and he felt as if an air of enchantment surrounded them. Slowly, tenderly, he kissed her, and she responded with an innocence that enticed him. With restraint he softly kissed again, as his hands framed her small face. She opened her eyes, and in their golden depths he saw surprise. And the first stirrings of the very same yearning he felt within.

  She didn’t resist when he put his hand behind her head, sifting his fingers through her damp hair. Slowly, gently, they explored each other’s facial contours. Adam fought to keep his touch light and his thoughts from straying past kissing. He must not breach her fragile trust. Like any wounded creature, she must be allowed to come to him in her own time, in her own way, if he held any hope of quenching his thirst for her.

  And despite their forced handfast, despite the possibility she loved another, despite her desire to leave Moy, he most definitely wanted more from her. He wanted love. At that thought he deepened the kiss, only a fraction of what he wanted, yet it must have alarmed her, for she jerked away.

  GWENYTH SAT BACK and stared at Adam, astounded at the emotions he’d sparked with a few tender kisses. And even more surprised that he was attracted to her in the first place. These kisses held all the promise she’d sensed in their first meeting in Leod’s hall, before Leod had made her unlovable.

  Adam frightened her, not because he would harm her physically. He had never frightened her that way. But now that she knew him better, she knew beyond doubt that the promises in his kisses would be her undoing, for he would fulfill them beyond imagination. She must not allow it, for both their sakes. As much as she was willing to open her heart a little, to see what life might be like with this man, she was still promised to another.

  He sighed and stood, offering his hand to help her up, which she declined, much to his apparent disappointment. “You trusted me in the water.”

  It was true, she had. But here on the rock everything had changed. Did he sense it too? She gazed at him warily.

  “Then why can’t you trust me now?”

  She shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold. “You are a man.” A wonderful man whom I do not want to hurt.

  He grinned. “Aye, and you are a woman. A very pretty woman, even with your hair pasted to your head.” He bent and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

  She leapt from the rock and ran to where her clothes lay.

  “ ’TWAS ONLY A KISS,” he called after her. Why must she be so upset over a chaste kiss? She was pulling her gown over her damp chemise, her movements hurried, nearly frantic.


  As he walked toward her, she backed away, tying her girdle and looking for all the world like a frightened animal.

  He put his hands out like a supplicant. “Gwenyth, it was only a kiss. What harm can be done with an innocent kiss?”

  “It wasn’t just a kiss—it was gentle.”

  “Aye, as a kiss between friends should be.”

  “Friends?”

  He wanted to place his hands on her shoulders, but knew better than to try. “Can we not allow at least that between us, Gwenyth? Surely friendship is something we both need.”

  “I admit to a lack of friends, my laird.” She regarded him with uncertainty. “We needn’t kiss to be friends, though.”

  “Nay, but you must learn to trust or you will never be comfortable as a wife. That is what I would teach you, Gwenyth. Trust. Nothing more.”

  “I am not one of those wounded creatures your mother spoke of, Adam.”

  “Ah, but you are in need of healing.”

  Her fingers wound through the strings of her girdle. “I fear this healing, Adam. The cure is fraught with temptation.”

  There was no recrimination, no censure in her voice. Only the truth, plainly spoken.

  “You go to the quick, my lady.”

  “I see no need to avoid what must be acknowledged. If I am to remain, we must come to an understanding.”

  “I thought we had one.”

  She twisted her belt ends tighter. “Then perhaps, I’m asking if it still stands.”

  “Why wouldn’t it?”

  Her gaze seemed to reach down into his very soul, to see what lay hidden there. As if she knew his secrets. As if she knew of his imaginings of her in his arms— “You are staring as if I frighten you.” There was no alarm in her words, only acknowledgment.

  “You do frighten me, Gwenyth.” He swallowed so hard he felt certain she could hear for herself just how she affected him.

  She blushed, head averted, before bringing her gaze back to meet his. “So, am I correct in thinking we are both . . . drawn to each other?”