Flame

by May McGoldrick

She started to tremble as the truth of his words began to sink in.

  “If you think Mater guilty of that vicious crime, then ‘tis your right and responsibility to be standing beside me when I question her.” His voice gentled as his hands wrapped more tightly around hers. “I am not asking you to walk into this battle unarmed. The last thing I want is for any harm to come to you. I will be there with you, Joanna. But Mater must see the two of us as one. ‘Tis essential for her to understand that we will not perish or disappear in an instant, simply because she wishes it.”

  Joanna tore her hands out of his grasp. In her heart she felt like a coward. All her long thought out plans had been no more than a coward’s way of meting out justice. It had all seemed so courageous to her in the darkness and solitude of the caverns, but here in the bright sunlight, faced with Gavin’s words, Joanna felt a strong sense of guilt and inadequacy gnawing at her heart.

  “Face her, Joanna. Do not be afraid.”

  “I am not afraid. ‘Twas not fear that kept me alive these past six months. ‘Twas my will to see justice done.”

  “Then come with me and face her, love,” he encouraged. “Prove to her--and to yourself--that you are alive and that you will survive. Show her that there is nothing that she can do that will deter you from doing what is right!”

  ***

  Margaret remained kneeling on the stony ground, holding tightly to the hem of the priest’s cloak. She was oblivious to the rounded eyes of the two young and dirty faces of the children looking on. She had no interest in the expression of disapproval on the peasant woman’s face. She was even indifferent to the kick that the priest gave her in the side in an attempt to wrench himself free.

  “I am going back to that castle now,” he shouted angrily. “And you can go to hell, for all I care.”

  She sobbed loudly, reaching up and getting a better grip on his cloak.

  “Let me go, woman,” he pulled. “Take your devilish claws off me.”

  “You cannot leave her here with us,” the peasant woman screeched, suddenly concerned. “I’ll have no dumb wench living in this hovel with us. You take her back to those you took her from. You hear me, William?”

  The man gave Margaret another sharp kick to her side. She doubled over, unable to breathe, but still she managed to hold on to the rough wool.

  “Just throw her out into the road,” William called over his shoulder to his sister. “She is not your concern. Her brother will find her...or some night animal...it does not matter which.”

  Margaret looked up into the priest’s cold, gray eyes and shook her head in anguish. Her mouth opened and closed like some tortured animal.

  Don’t go, she screamed inwardly. Please, don’t go back.

  “Help me with this foul creature,” the man shouted at his sister.

  Margaret reached out and tried to get hold of his legs, but something heavy struck her in the back of the head. As bright yellow and orange flashes blotted out all vision, she felt the strength in her arms and fingers disappear. Her last conscious sensation was that of being dragged by the feet across the dirt floor of the hut.

  CHAPTER 28

  Gavin knew he had taken a great chance in bringing her here.

  Of course, it was not so much Joanna’s safety that concerned him as it was Mater’s treatment of her.

  He was not blind, and he was not a fool. In the past few days, since Joanna had stepped out of the darkness of the tunnels and into the daily life of Ironcross Castle, Gavin had seen the haunted expression in her violet blue eyes. Rather than reveling in the joys and the comforts of the life she had been accustomed to prior to the fire, Joanna had been doing her best to remain secluded.

  But he wouldn’t let her, if he could help it, for he had been to the crypt. It had not taken long to discover what she was planning to do.

  Gavin looked to his side and admired her strength. Though only moments ago she had fought him for bringing her here, the determined and noble look that she now wore told him that she was ready for whatever challenge awaited them. Her eyes met his.

  “You’ve never seen them in the past like this, have you?” she asked.

  Gavin looked out across the fields. For the first time, the laird found farm folk working the land. They were approaching the village, and a dog was racing toward them, barking and announcing their presence. But with the exception of a few faces lifting with interest, no one ran away and hid as they had done in times past.

  “Nay.” He shook his head, amazed. “But you have.”

  “Aye, when I came here alone.”

  Gavin’s eyes drifted to a group of children chasing after the dog. These were the first young ones he’d seen this close since arriving at Ironcross and its lands. “‘Tis amazing to me that they haven’t run off.”

  Joanna looked at him steadily. “Obviously, they’ve accepted you as the laird...and as one they do not find threatening.”

  He shook his head. “This is all for you, Joanna. ‘Tis their way of welcoming you back from the dead. Back to the flock.”

  “I never was one of them,” she whispered angrily, her violet blue eyes flashing.

  “In rank and position, that’s true.”

  She flushed crimson. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “You might have severed your connections with them when you joined the dead in the caverns beneath Ironcross, but from all that I can see, you are certainly accepted here.”

  Joanna looked away, and Gavin followed the direction of her gaze. Muddy children were running barefoot through the puddles.

  “They do not look so vicious from this distance.”

  She scowled, but remained silent.

  “They must train their children early on to hide the evil they carry in their hearts. Ah, the filthy murderers!”

  Joanna whirled on him. “I never said they all were capable of such viciousness. There are many good folk here!”

  He raised a brow and looked at her critically. “I would never have guessed that from hearing you talk.”

  Her eyes narrowed to dark blue slits. “I’m here, am I not? You might give up this endless taunting.”

  “I might, Joanna. But honestly, that is a lifelong pleasure that I am looking forward to indulging in.” His face creased with a wry smile. “And in more ways than one.”

  “Villain!” she whispered, trying to retain a frown. “I hardly think it wise to talk so boldly this long before we are wed. A woman’s mind might change.”

  He quickly reached out and grabbed hold of one of her hands, squeezing it tight before bringing it to his lips. Her embarrassment at his open display of affection was evident in the rosy tint that colored her fair skin.

  “I believe you do intend to marry me, lass.”

  She turned a deeper shade of red as he placed another lingering kiss on her palm.

  “Aye,” she croaked as she jerked her hand out of his grasp. “I have said that I will.”

  Gavin took a deep and satisfied breath. Unable to tear his eyes away from her face, he rode beside her as they entered the village, and Gavin relished the thought of her being his, for today and for tomorrow and forever. The group of children were peeking at them wide-eyed from the corner of one of the cottages, and the laird winked, sending them scurrying out of sight.

  “You have quite a way with wee ones,” Joanna remarked wryly.

  He turned and smiled. “‘Tis a gift.”

  They would get past this--of that he was certain of it. And then they would have many days ahead of them, days when it would be just the two of them. Or perhaps three, he thought suddenly. As Joanna’s eyes scanned the ruins of the abbey, Gavin's gaze slowly fell to her waist. Could it be that she already carried his child, he wondered? They’d been reckless in their passion, but Gavin knew he would not have done anything differently. Even now, he felt the stirring in his loins.

  Clearing his head quickly, he vowed silently that they would marry as soon as Edmund returned from James Gordon.

 
***

  One look from the old woman and Joanna felt a wind whirl through her, whipping her insides into a frothy sea of confused emotion.

  Joanna did not look away from Mater’s gray eyes. When she had seen the abbess standing quietly by her fire, looking as if she were waiting for them, Joanna had been certain that in the older woman’s eyes she would find guilt, anger, death. But instead, all she found was sorrow, as ancient and gnarled as the some of the pines standing dwarfed and alone on the western hillsides. Something in Mater’s look went straight through Joanna’s shield of righteous anger, through her armor of justice. The sorrow in Mater’s eyes went straight to her heart.

  Unconsciously, Joanna handed her rein to Gavin and let him tie the mare next to his horse. And as he reached up and took her by the waist, lowering her to the ground, not even once she was able to tear her eyes away from the old woman’s gaze.

  Her body moved of its own accord, making its way around Gavin. But halfway to the fire, Joanna came to an abrupt stop. A voice in her head had begun screaming, and her heart ached with an anguish that threatened to tear her in two.

  “You have come.” Mater’s voice shook slightly as she extended one thin hand in invitation. “At last, you’ve decided to come back to us.”

  A tremor tore through Joanna’s body, and her knees were beginning to buckle beneath her weight. She felt it then, his large hand, pressing reassuringly into the small of her back. But then, gently, he was pushing her toward the elder woman. Confused, she looked up into his dark eyes and saw the strength, the confidence, the love.

  “‘Tis the two of us,” he whispered softly. “You and I.”

  His words filled her with strength, and Joanna turned her eyes back to Mater. This time, though, it was the older woman who took the steps and closed the distance between them.

  Gavin's voice was gruff, but Joanna could hear the wryness in his tone. “Did my visits in the past cause the farm folk to lose so much time in the fields that they can no longer afford to hide?”

  “Do not laud yourself too highly for your cleverness, laird.” Mater scolded, never lifting her eyes from Joanna’s face. “This is simply our way of commending you for bringing her back to us, to her people.”

  “She would not be here if she hadn’t given her consent.”

  “I know,” Mater said softly as she reached out and took Joanna’s hands in her own. “She is a woman and has a will much stronger than any living man.”

  As much as she wanted to, Joanna couldn’t bring herself to jerk her hands free of the abbess’s grasp. Instead, she watched in silence as Mater turned her scarred palms upward and stared at the blotches of red skin as if she had known that they would be there.

  “They have healed well,” the old woman said encouragingly. “Keep them open to the air, and the rest of the scarring will disappear as well.”

  Joanna stared at her in stunned amazement, but Mater ignored her surprised look and turned, drawing her in the direction of the fire.

  “How did you know that her hands were burned?”

  Gavin’s question to Mater didn’t cause the old woman even a moment’s hesitation.

  “Before this moment, Gavin Kerr was the only living being who knew of my burned hands.” Joanna couldn’t keep a quiver of anger out of her voice, she stood waiting as the abbess sat by the fire.

  “Sit down, Joanna,” the old woman offered, waving to the block of stone beside her.

  “I need an answer.”

  “Aye, and I will answer. Sit down.”

  Joanna glanced at Gavin, who nodded slightly and then sat across from them.

  As she seated herself, she watched Mater’s gray eyes lift to her face. “The laird was not the only one to know of your burns.”

  Joanna waited, but the old woman didn’t offer more. Growing agitated, she glanced in Gavin’s direction, but he not only seemed unaffected by Mater’s words, he changed the subject entirely.

  “Contrary to what I have been assuming,” he said. “I learned this morning that your sister was not staying with you during these past two days.”

  “My sister?” Mater’s brow raised in challenge.

  “Aye. Margaret, your younger sister,” Gavin nodded matter-of-factly. “And your brother, Allan, asked my leave last night to go in search of her, himself.”

  There was a moment of hesitation in Mater’s expression, and her eyes never left off their close scrutiny of Gavin’s hardened face. “I’m surprised that you know of my family connections.”

  “And I am not the only one who knows,” he answered casually.

  The sudden flicker in her glare did not go unnoticed by Joanna. This was clearly a sensitive area for Mater. Just the mention of Margaret’s name had illuminated a crack in the armor. A breach in the wall.

  “When was the last time you saw your sister?”

  “Are you questioning me, laird?”

  “Do you care that she is lost?”

  Mater’s back straightened in anger. “‘Tis your responsibility as the laird to keep her safe.”

  “And I intend to...once I find her. Unless you know of a reason why she would not care to be found.”

  “There is no such reason,” she answered quickly. “She has no place to go. Nowhere to hide. She has no means of taking care of herself.”

  “The last time she was seen, she was very upset.” Joanna’s statement drew both Gavin’s and Mater’s eyes to her face. He’d said it was the two of them. Having had time to gather her nerves, Joanna was now prepared to be part of this talk--as Gavin had wanted. “Can you think of any reason for her to be upset?”

  Mater’s gaze sat heavily on her face, but Joanna did not flinch. She would need to display all of her strength in her dealings with this woman.

  “Nay, I don’t know of a reason for her distress.” Mater’s voice sounded suddenly thinner, older than it had ever been.

  Gavin’s tone, in comparison, was hard and his question blunt. “Do you think she and the priest might have had something between them?”

  His question brought a flush of indignation into the old woman’s face. “Never!”

  “There are those in the castle who’ve seen her pay him frequent visits.”

  Joanna herself bristled at Gavin's insinuation. She looked into Mater’s face and found it stone hard.

  “‘Tis fairly certain that she left with the priest, Mater.” Gavin continued. “And though he is a man of the cloth, that old dwarf seems to have had his way with more than one woman in that keep.”

  There was a note of cruelty in Gavin's tone, and before now, Joanna would not have believed him capable of it. But when she glanced again in Mater’s direction, she saw that the abbess’s composure was on the verge of crumbling.

  “I have to admit that her age will work to her advantage.”

  “Stop it, Gavin,” Joanna ordered.

  “This time,” he rumbled on, “he’ll not have to worry about getting her with child.”

  “Gavin!”

  “At least there will be no immediate cause for deserting her!”

  “I said stop!” Joanna reached down and took hold of the old woman’s hand. She hadn’t missed the tears welling up in the abbess’s gray eyes. “I see no reason for such callous brutality.”

  “Nay, lass?” he asked, his black eyes boring into her own. “Is that so?”

  Suddenly, it dawned on her what he had done. In the space of a few moments, he had torn down the stone facade that Mater hid behind. And in so doing he had awakened a compassion for the old woman that Joanna thought had died long ago.

  Angry with him and angry with herself, Joanna tore her eyes away from his face and looked down to the gnarled little hand that was entwined with her own.

  “When was the last time you saw your sister?” Gavin asked, this time more gently.

  Joanna felt Mater’s hands tighten around hers as the old woman looked up at Gavin. “Last week, laird, the same day that she was seen last by others.”

&nb
sp; “And you do not know why she was upset?”

  “She had been crying,” Mater said wearily. “Something Margaret rarely does. But then, with her tongue tied as ‘tis, there was only so much that she could tell me.”

  Though Joanna was focused on the words that were being spoken, a growing realization was stealing over her, and it shocked her. She could feel the coldness that had crept into the abbess’s hand. She could feel every callus, every pulse of the old woman’s blood. But also, for the first time in her life, she felt as if she were providing the strength. Like Mater, the source of power for the women around her, she, Joanna MacInnes, was acting as the giver, the provider of some force of will that she knew Mater desperately needed right now.

  “We have been searching for the priest since he disappeared,” Gavin said quietly. “The few peasants who admit to seeing Father William all tell of a thin woman keeping the cleric’s company. That woman can only have been Margaret.”

  “What do you intend to do?” Mater asked coldly, an edge creeping back into her voice. “She is your responsibility.”

  “We are doing what we can. I have sent my men in all directions looking, but last night Allan told me of a cottage to the north where a sister of the priest once lived.”

  “Did Allan go there by himself--alone?”

  Joanna and Gavin both looked into the older woman’s pale complexion.

  “A few of my men went along, though they may have separated to search the hills if they thought it necessary. Why?”

  “Because if he finds Margaret with that no-good priest, there is no telling what he will do.” Mater paused a moment as she gazed in the direction of the sky to the north. “He and I both have spent most of our lives being very protective of Margaret. Perhaps Allan even more so than I.”

  “Your brother knows I want the priest back alive. There are questions to be answered. He’ll not harm the man.”

  Joanna looked to Gavin’s face, trying to see if he really believed what he’d just said, but his expression again gave nothing away. So she turned to Mater, “You do not think he would hurt Margaret?”