Colette leaned toward the mayor. “Her dowry will be more than adequate.”
The mayor leaned toward her. “And what do you consider adequate?”
Pippa also leaned in. “What are you all whispering about?”
Colette turned to Pippa and spoke in what she hoped was a reassuring tone. “A dowry is being provided for you. You cannot marry without one. You would like to be married, no?”
Pippa screwed up her face into a look of disgust. “Married? Why would I want that? And why must I give some man something to marry me? At least with Madame Alisoun, the men paid me.”
“Philippa!” Even Colette could not restrain her tongue.
“You tell these men I am not for sale!” demanded Pippa.
The mayor gasped. His wife dropped her goblet, splashing wine on her gown. Such was her shock that she hardly noticed.
“Take the babe and go wait in the wagon,” Colette instructed Pippa. Any hopes of marrying her off respectably were dashed. “Thank you for your hospitality,” Colette said, addressing the mayor and his wife. Colette rose from her seat with a poise she did not feel. It was time for a hasty retreat.
Colette walked out of the square to the outskirts of the town where her wagons, or what was left of them, were waiting. “Repack the wagons to travel with as few as possible. Leave those unused behind,” she directed her guards.
The wind blew a chill on the back of her neck. The weather was turning. She walked into the wind, relishing its biting sting. Despite Pippa’s clear lack of grace or tact, her statements struck a tender nerve within Colette. Though she had nothing, Pippa would not trade her freedom for safety or security. She was not for sale.
But Colette…apparently, she was.
Odd how an orphaned waif could demand more from life than Colette herself. And why, now that she was thinking of it, did Colette have to bring a large dowry with her to entice a man to marry her? Was she not good enough on her own?
Colette stared into the dark clouds of the approaching storm. She had every advantage, but still she had less freedom than the average urchin. Her new adventure did not seem so glorious as it had earlier that morning.
“Why did ye do it?” Gavin was at her side.
Colette jumped a little at his sudden appearance, even as her heart beat a bit faster. She did not feel equal to crossing swords with Sir Gavin at that moment. “You told me to give my things away, no? Now I have done so while finding homes for the orphans and assisting those who had lost much when their town was destroyed. I thought you would be pleased.”
“But those were yer mother’s things. Ye gave them away wi’out letting anyone see the pain it gave ye.”
Colette took a sharp breath. He saw too much. “There can be no purpose in distressing those around me.”
“I ken what it cost ye to do this today,” Gavin said softly, his eyes warm with sympathy. “I thank ye for it. Ye may have saved this journey from capture and ye certainly gave the bairns, and those who took them in, a better life.”
Colette tried to give him a controlled smile, but her lips trembled and the practiced, cool facade crumbed. This man saw through the disguise. This man understood her sacrifice. “I saw you leave the square. I thought you were displeased.”
“I was surprised is all.” Gavin looked away and cleared his throat. “I hope I have recovered from my shock enough to say how greatly I appreciate your efforts. Ye’re more than I expected and stronger than I thought.”
His kind words slid past her defenses and hit home in a manner harsh words could not. “Thank you.” She turned and hastily wiped away a tear. It would not do to cry, and yet grief for all she was leaving behind bubbled up within her. Her family, her home, the only life she had ever known—it was all gone.
He drew nearer, standing between her and her people, who were preparing for travel. “No shame in crying,” he said softly.
But Colette did not wish to cry, especially not before Sir Gavin. She kept her back to him and had almost gotten herself back under control when he put a warm hand on her shoulder. Heat flowed through her, warm and sweet, at the mere touch of his hand.
“Ye did well, but I am sorry for yer loss.” Gavin gave her shoulder a slight squeeze.
It was too much. Colette could no longer hold in the emotion. Tears streamed down her face—tears that had been waiting years to be shed over the loss of her mother were finally allowed to break free. She took a ragged breath, and before she knew what was happening, she was wrapped up into the strong arms of her Highland guide.
She should have struggled to break free, but instead she gave in to grief and sobbed onto his broad shoulder. He held her gently and made calming noises in some language she did not understand. He blocked her from view, and Colette knew he was intentionally protecting her from prying eyes.
“I do apologize. I cannot understand what madness this is,” Colette murmured, when she could once again speak.
“Ye’ve lost much. There’s no need for apology.” He gave her a gentle squeeze before letting go. She longed for more of his warm embrace.
“I fear I look a sight,” she wiped the tears from her swollen eyes.
“Ye’re always beautiful to me.” He leaned toward her, his face dangerously close to hers.
Her heart beat fast. Her lips parted as she stared up into his handsome face. His eyes, which had always seemed warm to her, now burned with intensity. She drew herself closer to him, wrapping her hands around his neck, rising on her toes to be closer still.
A cold splash of water fell onto her nose, bringing her back to her senses. “Oh!”
Gavin stepped back and cleared his throat. “The rain is come,” he observed, staring up into the offending clouds.
More splashes on her cheeks told her it was so. A call came from the camp; the wagons were ready to leave. Gavin gave her a quick nod and escorted her to her mount.
The old was being washed away. It was time to move into the new.
Fifteen
Pippa pulled a wide hood over her head as the rain began to fall with decided rapidity. She sat in the front of a wagon, holding the baby, whom she had finally rocked to sleep, while Lady Colette and her maids rode before her. Pippa wiped her nose on her sleeve, sniffing loudly. She thought she had cried all her tears, saying good-bye to the young girls she had fought to protect. But still more came. The babe also was squally, and so they had both cried together. They were a sorry lot.
Despite her sorrow, she was grateful to Sir Gavin and Lady Colette for doing in two days what she had not been able to do in a dozen years. They had rescued the girls and found them all good homes. Pippa recognized the great lady had given away her own things to serve as a dowry for the children. Their party was now considerably smaller, just two wagons, the lady’s guards, and her ladies-in-waiting. Sir Gavin rode in front and around and behind, always watchful and ready.
Pippa was not sure what to do with herself now. While she appreciated Lady Colette’s efforts to find homes for the young ones, she was not about to be sold off in marriage, no matter how well intended. If she were to ever marry, which did not seem likely since she had no dowry and had a healthy dislike for most men, she would be the one doing the choosing.
But what now? The great lady was leaving France, and Pippa must do something with herself. She had no fear of work and wondered if she might get hired as a maid, though they would no doubt ask questions of where she came from, which would be difficult to answer. The one thing she would not do was go back into the life she had escaped. For the meantime, she was content to stay with Lady Colette and Sir Gavin as long as they continued to feed her.
The rain began to pound down harder, and Pippa lowered her head so her hood protected her face and the baby from the weather. They rode on for hours, past the sunset and on into the dark evening. The rain was unrelenting and Pippa began to fear they would ride
through the night.
Finally, Sir Gavin rode up beside Lady Colette. “There is an inn ahead. We should stop for the night.”
Pippa sighed in relief.
“We cannot go much farther,” said Lady Colette, though her perfect posture had not slacked one inch since the beginning of the ride.
“Aye, and wi’ every step, we draw closer to the English army,” said Sir Gavin. “They’re strong along the coastal towns. We would do well to stop here and determine how we are to proceed. Bordeaux isna far now.”
“I am certain we could all use some rest,” said Lady Colette.
Both Lady Colette and Sir Gavin held back a bit and to the side until they were next to each other and a bit apart from the others. Pippa wondered if they realized they did it.
“When we arrive at the inn, please dinna reveal yer true identity. It woud’na be safe,” said Sir Gavin, gazing at the great lady, particularly when she was not looking.
“I understand,” answered Lady Colette, stealing glances at the knight beside her when he turned away.
“We’ll say we are a family of merchants. That will explain the wagons and the number of us,” said Sir Gavin.
Lady Colette nodded.
Pippa expected him to gallop off immediately, as he always did with anyone else, but he did not. Instead, he rode beside Lady Colette for a while, even as the rain began to pelt down harder. Pippa wondered at this. She had been told Lady Colette was on a journey to meet her new husband in Scotland, so she did not understand the longing looks Sir Gavin and Lady Colette were casting each other.
Something interesting was going to happen. She could feel it.
* * *
It was with no small amount of relief that Colette arrived at the inn and was assisted from her mount by Sir Gavin while Captain Perrine prepared for their arrival. She was pleased to be off the horse and even more pleased to have Gavin’s hands around her waist. Their eyes met in the dark, lit only by the lantern on the inn door. Neither spoke.
Gavin suddenly released her and cleared his throat. “Must see to the horses,” he said, a hint of a smile about his mouth, and strode off into the darkness.
She pushed all thoughts of Gavin from her mind and focused on the inn. The prospect of going somewhere warm and dry was a welcome one. While she gritted her teeth against any complaint, her ladies did not feel such compunction. The past several days had been difficult for them, and they were not beyond letting this be known to anyone who stood close enough to hear. They were displeased about the long rides, they were displeased about the weather, they were displeased about the accommodations, and though not spoken freely, Colette knew they were increasingly displeased at having to accompany her into the wilds of Scotland.
The inn was a modest one and did not support private dining accommodations, so they were all required to eat in the public room. Given the inclement weather, the main room was crowded with people seeking refuge from the cold and damp. Her captain secured a table in the corner, and Colette was ushered there with her maids, their mouths tight with indignation. Colette struggled to keep her face serene. When the food arrived, plain but hearty and plenty of it, she threw aside her usual reserve and ate a substantial meal. Her weary ladies took her suggestion and also ate well.
The mistress of the house, a plump lady with a generous bosom and rosy cheeks, came around the table. “I trust you have found the meal to your liking.”
“Oui. It was very good. Merci.” Colette gave the landlady an approving nod of her head.
Gavin entered the inn with his characteristic pleasant demeanor. He called for a pint of ale and all eyes followed him as he strode across the room. Colette watched as well. He had an easy presence about him—something akin to a puppy who did not realize he had grown to be a large dog, still retaining his playfulness.
“Well now, he is a handsome man and no mistake.” The landlady put a hand over her ample cleavage and sighed.
Colette frowned. She did not approve of Gavin being ogled in a public room.
The landlady caught her look of disapproval and apologized hastily. “I am begging your pardon, m’lady. Is he your husband or your betrothed mayhap?”
“No.” Unfortunately not. Colette pushed the treacherous thought away with all the others.
“A Scot, is he?” asked the inquisitive landlady.
Colette wished to ignore her impudence, but she reminded herself they were trying to blend in as merchants. Besides, there was no way to hide his accent nor his peculiar mode of dress. “But of course. He is our guide.”
The calculating smile returned to the landlady’s face. “I see, I do. So he is a tradesman and a wealthy one I wager. Free for the taking, is he?”
“No!” The denial emerged forcefully from Colette’s lips before she could consider why she was denying it. “He is spoken for.” She was not sure why she said this since she knew he was very much unattached. Yet she was adamant to fend off any sort of liaison with anyone he would find at a public inn. Except herself…and that was another thought to be stuffed away.
“Too bad,” said the landlady. “The good ones, they are always taken, no?” She gave Colette a conspiratorial wink. “And who is this lovely little one?” She smiled at Pippa, who was holding the baby.
“She belongs to her,” said Pippa, pointing at Marie Colette in a manner so outside the usual courtesy with which Colette was accustomed to being addressed that she was rendered speechless. At least no one would believe she was aristocracy with such colorful traveling companions.
“Ah, so you are a new mother.” The landlady beamed at Colette. “There is no better time in life, no? Which of these men is your husband?”
“None,” declared Colette and then realized at the askance look on the landlady’s face that she needed to make some explanation. “The child’s father died in an attack by the English. The town was put to the flames. The babe barely escaped with her life.”
“Ah, so sorry you lost your husband. I lost my poor Henri only last winter. Now I am on my own with this inn to run all by myself. Not that I am complaining, but I do understand your loss.”
Colette said nothing, deciding it would serve no purpose to correct the woman’s misunderstanding. She did appreciate the sentiment. She had lost people she loved, though not a husband.
“Poor babe.” The landlady bent closer in order to see the tot, her bosom quivering dangerously, ready to spill out of her bodice at any moment. “I see the child got a taste of the flames. Too bad she is so disfigured. It is a face only a mother could love, no?”
Of course it was nothing short of the truth, but Colette bristled at the comment. “Quite,” she said in a tone so cold it could have given the landlady frostbite.
“You have a pleasant evening,” said the landlady with a smile, not noticing the chill in Colette’s tone. The woman sidled away back into the kitchens.
“Can you believe her cheek?” hissed Marie Agnes.
“Unbelievable that she would consider herself worthy of addressing you, my lady,” said Marie Jeanette.
“She only spoke the truth,” defended Pippa, who was sitting at the end of the table slightly aside from the others. “The babe’s face is scarred. And you have all been whispering about Sir Gavin and his naked legs. You think it’s better to whisper something in private than to speak the plain, simple truth?”
The distinguished ladies-in-waiting raised their delicate eyebrows and as one turned their backs on the unwanted orphan and continued the rest of their meal in silence.
Taking command of the infant, Colette was determined to do right by the creature, no matter how unappealing she appeared. Colette fed the child porridge, milk, and small bits of biscuit from the table. Afterward, the baby whined, whimpered, cried, and finally screamed as Colette and her ladies passed the infant from person to person each trying unsuccessfully to calm the babe. Col
ette spoke firmly to the infant, demanding the child to stop crying at once, but to no avail.
The baby wailed until Pippa placed the babe over her shoulder and gave her a few gentle thumps between the shoulder blades. The babe made a most disagreeable noise, but then smiled and was content. From that moment on, Colette and her ladies resigned the babe to Pippa’s care.
Raised voices caught Colette’s attention. Despite the lateness of the hour, other weary travelers found rest at the inn, but two appeared to be making a hasty departure.
“Come back!” shouted the landlady, waddling after two young men who were heading to the door. “You need to pay your shot! You drank four bottles of my best wine.”
“And who is it that is going to make us?” taunted one of the man. “You are so fat, you can’t even catch me!” He laughed in her face and strolled out the door even as tears ran down the landlady’s face.
Gavin was up and out the door before Colette could express her outrage. A loud crash, some banging, a yell, and a muffled yelp came from outside the door. All was silent for a moment, and Colette feared the rude men had hurt her Gavin. Colette stilled. Her Gavin?
Gavin strolled back into the inn with a wide smile and both of the men in a headlock, one head under each of his muscular arms. “Sorry, madam, these men have something to say,” he addressed the landlady with bright, good humor.
A few squeezes of the headlock and both men began to express their most humble, heartfelt apologies. They reached for their purses and produced more than their fair share of the evening’s fare.
“Thank you,” said the landlady to Gavin once he had released the objects of his instruction and they had run from the inn, lighter in purse but wiser in worldly knowledge. The landlady beamed at him, adoration in her eyes. “Thank you, kind sir. Thank you!”
Gavin tried to wave off the compliment but the landlady embraced him, drawing him into the fleshy abyss of her cleavage.
The Highlander's Bride Page 11
