She caught sight of Gavin and her eyes flashed. He walked up to her as she approached the waiting horses. The duke stepped forward and offered Gavin his daughter, the symbolic gesture that now Marie Colette was Gavin’s responsibility.
“Lady Marie Colette, my precious daughter, I now leave in your care, trusting you will do all that is right to protect her safety.” Bergerac nodded to him and Gavin bowed in return and accepted the hand of Marie Colette on his arm.
Bergerac left them to make a show of inspecting the preparations, leaving Gavin and Colette to make their way through the cheering crowd to the horses.
“What are you wearing, Sir Knight?” Marie Colette hissed at him.
“My plaid. ’Tis the common dress o’ the Highlander and practical for travel,” returned Gavin, ridiculously pleased at having goaded her into speaking with him directly.
“No, no, no, it is appropriate for nothing. I can see your legs for you forgot to wear your hose!” She did an admirable job of speaking out of the corner of her mouth without appearing to be conversing. No one who watched them would know she was speaking to him.
He leaned closer and said in a conspiratorial tone, “Highlanders wear no hose, m’lady.”
He should not have, but he took enjoyment at the way her jaw dropped open. She was so tightly controlled; it took a lot to break through the cool mask she wore. The fact that his naked legs could crack her composure made him happier than it ought. Why should he care what she thought?
Marie Colette was led to a mounting block and easily stepped up to take her seat on a large, ornately decorated saddle atop an ornately decorated beast Gavin supposed at one time had been a horse. He was a little surprised that she rode astride, though only a keen eye would have caught it, for her lower extremities were quickly covered by her sumptuous gown and her luxurious, long fur cloak. He would have been concerned she would overheat in such a warm cloak, but she was much too cold for concern.
Gavin glared at the long line of wagons, carrying enough belongings to outfit a small town. Lady Marie Colette could not leave her home without an entourage of four ladies, twenty soldiers, and a veritable army of stable hands to lead a long line of wagons. Gavin turned around, refusing to count. He didn’t want to know. Instead of consolidating her efforts, Gavin was convinced she had added more things to her list. If she left a single piece of crockery behind, he would have been very much surprised.
Her grim-faced maids sat sidesaddle on smaller (naturally) horses being led by grooms. The ladies wept openly and waved their handkerchiefs to their families, who were crying at their departure. It was a touching moment. Yet Marie Colette remained unmoved. No tear of feeling rolled down her cheek. If he had not known firsthand that she did not wish to leave the castle, her serene face would have revealed nothing. She was a cold one, this Lady Marie Colette.
They walked out of the castle gates at a painstakingly slow pace. At this rate, the sun would be high before they even left the castle. Considering all they carried, in such an obvious manner, Gavin worried they would soon become a target for thieves. Surely it would not take long before such a bounty of wealth was recognized and attacked. And at their current pace, they should be prepared to hand it over.
“We need to mount up everyone. We need to ride and cover ground,” Gavin demanded to the captain of the guard.
Captain Perrine slowly shook his head. He held himself with rigid posture, the perfect picture of an experienced soldier with a pointed, black goatee. “I take my orders from Lady Marie Colette.”
Gavin sighed. It was time to have another discussion with m’lady. He rode back to the middle of the long line, to speak to Marie Colette. She was perched like royalty high on her massive horse, surrounded by her ladies. Despite his growing irritation with her, he could not help but recognize her beauty. His job would have been easier if she were not quite so attractive.
“We need to move faster,” he demanded, pushing such traitorous thoughts aside. “We are at risk for attack parading this much wealth throughout the countryside.”
“Not everyone has mounts,” she condescended to respond. “We cannot move any faster.”
“Those who walk now could ride in the wagons,” suggested Gavin.
“It would be unseemly for the guards to be carried in a wagon like common goods,” exclaimed Marie Colette.
She was right, of course. He would prefer to walk then sit in a wagon, but he couldn’t shake the feeling they were putting themselves in danger by slowly meandering through the countryside with such an obvious display of wealth.
“Understand this.” Gavin stared deep into her smoldering green eyes. “I have agreed to protect ye and see ye safe to yer affianced husband. I hav’na agreed to protect the entire contents o’ Bergerac Castle ye packed wi’ ye.”
“Thank you for making your opinion so clear. I shall not look to you for help if a time of crisis arises.” She turned her head away, dismissing him.
Gavin clenched his teeth to prevent anything he was thinking from emerging from his lips, and kicked his mount to ride away. He was once a mild-mannered lad. What had happened to him? French aristocracy, that was what happened. Now he understood why his uncle MacLaren returned from France with such a sour disposition.
Gavin could not wait for this journey to be over.
Six
Colette was having a dreadful day. First, she had to say good-bye to her father, to everything she had ever known, in the public courtyard with hundreds of witnesses. Second, she had to do so without betraying any emotion of her dreadful loss. Propriety dictated that she must avoid any public display of emotion. She needed to maintain appearances, to remain calm and strong, though inside she was crumbling apart.
They ambled slowly down the dirt road, giving rise to her concerns over the large number of wagons required to haul her dowry. How was she going to take all these things with her? Her father had pledged much to the Baron of Kintail, and she must take her own inheritance. It was her only source of security in a strange land. Besides, to leave behind her mother’s things was unthinkable. But how would she transport all these goods to the wilds of Scotland?
She should have known better than to expect her Highland guide to help her. Instead of providing any assistance, Sir Gavin only pointed out the obvious, telling her that they were too heavily laden and that they would most likely become the targets for thieves and robbers, not to mention the English.
What was worse, he spoke to her directly. Did he not know that she was not allowed to speak directly to men in public unless chaperoned by her father? It was considered most unseemly. He seemed to have a complete disregard for protocol! Instead, he demanded and challenged, upsetting her maids even more than they already were by placing unneeded worry in their minds. She prided herself on being in control in any situation, but he stomped through her neatly arranged plans, leaving disaster in his wake. If she did not require his services as guide, she would have dismissed him from the party.
The sun climbed high in the sky as they plodded along the dusty dirt road. Colette longed to take off the warm fur cloak but could not do so without offending Marie Philippe, whose family had given her the cloak. So she held her head high and ignored the sweat running down her back and the dust in her face. Ladies did not cough or sweat.
Sir Gavin rode by, followed by the titters of her maids. She was shocked by his half-dressed appearance. Was he trying to insult her by wearing so little? Could the men in his homeland truly walk about without proper clothing? Would her own future husband be so indecently attired? The thought gripped her with fear. No, it could not possibly be true.
Gavin galloped up the road and then back again. He did not stay in his place like everyone else. Sometimes he was in the front. Sometimes he rode in the back. He made a mockery of her assigned order. It was most disconcerting.
He passed her once again and she followed him with her
eyes. He was a magnificent man astride a horse, now with even more of his bare legs showing. It was positively indecent, probably immoral, and altogether uncivilized, but she could not help but turn her head to watch as he passed. She was rewarded with a glimpse of his thigh. More sweat rolled down her back.
She was not the only one who noticed him. Even though all were at least twenty years her senior, her ladies watched him with eager eyes and commented on his carriage, his visage, his horsemanship, and of course, those dratted bare legs. Their voices lowered to a whisper, followed by an uncharacteristic giggle from Marie Jeannette. Had Gavin driven her ladies mad? She knew they were speaking of things they ought not, and truth be told, some of her own thoughts made her blush.
Sir Gavin was a fine man and there was no denying it. Their time together in her father’s chamber came to mind more often than it should. It was most fortunate, she told herself, that she was not required to marry the man. And yet she began to wonder what would it be like to be this man’s wife. He was young. He was attractive. There was no room for complaint, at least in regards to physical attributes.
Of course her marriage would not be based on any such things. All she knew of her future husband was that he was forty-eight years of age, and that his first wife had died, leaving him a son and heir. She had tried to ascertain a description of his appearance, but unfortunately this was not a concern in forming the marriage contract. Marriages between members of the aristocracy were based on important matters such as wealth and power. Marriage was a matter of business. Human affection had no place in such arrangements.
Sir Gavin rode by once again, slowing down to ride beside her. “I dinna like what I see here,” he muttered in her general direction.
Colette looked about and noted with displeasure that people were taking notice of the procession. People working in the fields stopped to watch them, whispering to each other. Others ran ahead of them, and still others ran off to parts unknown, probably to let their friends and neighbors know of a huge procession of riches slowly meandering down the road.
“These are our people. We are still within our borders. We are safe here,” Colette said with what she hoped was firm confidence.
“We shall soon leave the security o’ yer borders.” With that parting shot, he galloped back to the front of the line, leaving Colette to admire his straight back even while silently cursing his name.
Several hours later, they were well outside the borders of the duchy. The road was bordered on both sides by thick forest. Sunlight filtered down through the green boughs of the trees in shafts of light. The birds had been twittering happily but had fallen silent, as if the forest were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Colette glanced around at the dense forest, but could see nothing amiss.
Suddenly, Gavin raced toward her and pulled up short. “Thieves!” He shot her a glare as if the imposition was entirely her fault.
“If we are under attack, perhaps you should make yourself useful and do something about it,” she said through gritted teeth, irritated that he blamed her for the situation and even more irritated that he had been right all along.
“As ye wish.” He pulled a large broadsword from a harness he wore on his back and charged an approaching would-be marauder, who jumped out from the trees.
Gavin’s war cry was so loud, so inhuman, Colette herself wanted to run in fear. She actually felt sorry for the thief, who dropped his short sword and ran screaming into the forest.
“Captain Perrine, send eight soldiers to the front, eight to the rear, and the rest of ye protect the ladies,” shouted Gavin, and he charged another thief, scaring the man back to the woods.
Perrine glanced at Colette and she gave a nod. When it came to warfare, there could be no question Sir Gavin was the best one to lead. More brigands appeared from different sides of the road. Captain Perrine and his men obeyed Gavin without hesitation.
The thieves charged from all directions and Colette quickly gathered her maids to her. Marie Philippe cried out in fear. All her ladies appeared terrified. Her guards drew their weapons and stood in a circle around her and her maids.
“Be not afraid,” said Colette over the din of the attack. “Sir Gavin will not allow us to come to harm.” At the invocation of his name, her ladies appeared to be reassured. She was surprised they had such reliance on him though he was a foreigner and but a stranger to them. And yet Colette also had placed her safety in his hands, not those of her captain, whom she had known all her life.
Gavin chased away the attacking knaves with ferocity. He was an imposing man when he wished to be, there could be no denying. Colette could not help but watch him with something between terror and admiration.
At first, it appeared that the onslaught would be short. The thieves charged from all directions but broke off before they actually made contact with the soldiers, disappearing into the forest.
“Dinna follow them off the road!” commanded Gavin, racing up and down the line, shouting orders and scaring off the thieves. Colette could see their attackers were not particularly brave, only greedy. They were interested in easy pickings and were quickly chased away by a soldier with a mace. They ran even faster from a Highlander brandishing a broadsword. A group of bold marauders charged her soldiers, who held their ground. The knaves appeared to be running away but circled back and charged from the other side. Her soldiers met the attack and raced around them, preventing them from escaping back into the forest.
The foolhardy marauders instantly surrendered, throwing down their weapons. Her captain was unsympathetic and raised his sword for a death blow, harsh justice for the knaves who threatened her.
“No!” she cried. “They are naught but young lads.” For the raiders before her were barely in their teens.
Her captain scowled but turned to take the youths as prisoners. The guards being momentarily occupied, another group of raiders rushed for them. Colette thought they had come to rescue the young men but, instead, jumped on one of the wagons, tossing the driver from the cart. The knave grabbed the reins and rode off with the entire cart into the forest.
“Wait! Stop!” she cried.
“It shall be retrieved,” cried one of her soldiers, and several of them raced into the forest after the wagon. Colette feared this was precisely what Gavin had instructed them all to avoid, but her attention was drawn to the semiconscious man who had been thrown from the cart.
She swung down to the ground from her mount, a move she had never done before without a mounting block. She feared she was hardly graceful, but desperate times demanded desperate actions, so she dismounted her beast without the usual assistance, gravity insisting where she was hesitant.
She knelt down by the side of the injured man, removing her great fur cloak and laying it over him. She pressed her handkerchief to his forehead where he was bleeding. His eyes fluttered.
“Are you well?” she asked.
The man’s eyes went wide, clearly surprised to find himself within inches of her face. “Yes, my lady, I am well. I am sorry to have failed you.”
“Do not trouble yourself. I am only too glad you are not more seriously hurt.”
“My lady,” rasped the man. “Please, you must get off the ground. It is not safe.”
With the commotion around her, Colette could see the man spoke the truth. It was not safe for anyone on the ground.
“My ladies!” called Colette, and her ladies moved their mounts around the injured man. “I must mount again,” she said, grabbing the pommel of her saddle and attempting to physically hoist herself up into the saddle without a mounting block. She was completely unsuccessful. Another wagon was close, so she climbed up on the back to gain the proper height. It was a rather undignified maneuver, but knew she must regain her mount.
Suddenly, the cart lurched and she fell back into it, hitting her head on the edge of a trunk. Pain seared through her lef
t temple and her vision narrowed, the gray, fuzzy edges closing in on her sight. Thieves are taking the wagon. I must get out now.
The hazy edges of her vision grew until all went black and she drifted into nothingness.
* * *
Gavin had been expecting an attack. When it came, he quickly put into action the plan he had been considering during the long ride. Despite his initial disagreement with Captain Perrine, once approved by Lady Marie Colette, the captain followed orders without complaint. Their attackers were opportunists, looking for easy pickings more than wanting to actually engage in a fight. Had some of the soldiers not given chase, they would not have lost two of the wagons. Once they had their prize, the robbers broke off the attack and disappeared back into the woods.
Gavin stared at the hole in the forest where the missing wagons had gone. He wondered if he should bother going after them at all. If the thieves kept them, it would be less baggage to defend.
Despite the end of hostilities, Lady Marie Colette’s ladies shrieked and carried on in a disturbing manner. Gavin glanced around for Marie Colette but could not see her. “Ladies, please,” he said, gathering his patience so as to speak in a calm and rational voice. “The loss of a wagon or two is hardly worth this commotion. Let us continue wi’out it. Where is yer mistress?”
“That is what we are trying to tell you,” sobbed one of the ladies. “Lady Colette fell in the wagon. She’s been taken!”
“She fell in the wagon?!” Gavin cursed in his native Gaelic tongue as only a man raised in the Highlands could do. Considering how upset the ladies already were, it was a good thing they could not comprehend what he was saying.
“Which way?” he demanded.
The four ladies all pointed the same direction into the forest. Gavin dug his spurs into the side of his horse and bolted into the trees, after the wagon. He bounded through thick underbrush, following the trail the wagon left.
How could she fall in the wagon? Troublesome lass. Why had he ever agreed to do this? And yet, if anything happened to her… He spurred his horse faster, not able to even finish the thought without his stomach clenching into a sick knot.
The Highlander's Bride Page 4
