by Scott, B. J.
“He could be anywhere. This place is vast, and trails head off in several directions. There are so many places he could hide,” Franc said. The longer the child was missing, the tighter the knot of trepidation in his stomach clenched. “I have no idea where to look. Maybe Giselle was right, and we should try calling out to the boy.”
“If we do, our pursuers might overhear,” Lazarus reminded him. “I will take one path and you take another. Hopefully he has not gone far.”
Franc nodded, and for the moment, he refrained from shouting the lad’s name. He wandered down the path, pausing when he noticed Jean’s sword a short distance ahead. “Over there.” He called out to Lazarus, then dashed to the spot and picked up the wooden toy.
“Did you find the lad?” Lazarus sprinted toward him.
“No. But I found this.” He waved the sword in the air. “He must have headed this way. Jean? If you can hear me, call out.” Franc listened intently, but the drone of crickets chirping, and croaking frogs was all he could hear. “Jean,” he called a little louder.
A faint cry cause Franc’s head to jerk in the direction of the noise. Upon noticing a disrupted pile of leaves along the edge of the path, and what appeared to be skid marks in the dirt at the edge of a ravine, he inched forward when he thought he heard the boy cry out again.
“Can you hear me, Jean?” he repeated as he peered down a steep embankment. “He could be hurt, or in an inaccessible spot.” Franc faced Lazarus. “I am certain he must have tumbled down the hill. Return to the horses and fetch a length of rope. We may have need of it. While you do, I will make my way down, and see if I can find him.” As soon as Lazarus trotted off, Franc immediately began his descent, carefully weaving his way across the slippery ground amidst the rocks and other forest debris.
Upon reaching the bottom, he searched the area at the base of the hill, but when he saw no sign of the child, he called out to him again. “Can you hear me, Jean?”
“Aye. I am over here. And I am scared,” he whimpered.
“Stay where you are and I will come for you,” Franc replied as he moved in the direction of his voice. Relieved when he spotted the boy a few feet away, Franc raced toward him, then scooped him into his arms. “You gave us all a scare.” His tiny body trembled, and Franc hugged him tighter, shocked at how his heart warmed to having the boy snuggle against his chest. While this was not his son, for a moment, he could imagine what it would be like to raise him as his own.
Aware that could never be, he set the boy down, then squatted beside him, ogling him from head to toe. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
Jean slowly bobbed his head and sniffled. “When I fell, I bumped my knee on a big rock and I tore my trews on a branch. I hurt my elbow too.” His bottom lip quivered, and tears welled in his eyes, but he held them at bay.
“Your mother can see to it when we get you back up top.” After thoroughly examining the boy for serious injuries, Franc rocked back on his heels and heaved a sigh of relief. “Aside from a few bumps and bruises, you surprisingly appear fine. Given the tumble you took, you were lucky you did not break your neck.” He frowned. “What possessed you to wander off when your mother told you to stay put?”
“I saw a rabbit, and I thought if I could catch it, you would be pleased, and you would na be angry with mama anymore. Or with me.” Jean lowered his gaze as tears tracked down his cheeks. “I followed it into the forest, then I got lost. When I tried to find my way back, a boar chased me.” He scrubbed a balled fist across his eyes, then continued to tell his tale. “I was scared and tried to run away, but I tripped and fell down the hill.”
Franc felt his heart clench, and guilt tugged at his gut as he listened to Jean’s story. “I am not angry with you or your mother,” Franc said, trying to ease his mind. “I am, however, concerned for your safety, and upset that you wandered off alone. That was a dangerous thing to do, and I want you to promise you will never do it again.”
Jean bobbed his head. “I promise.” He dragged the back of his hand across his nose and sniffled. “Can we go find Mama now?”
“Did you lose this?” Lazarus made his way to the bottom of the ravine with a rope in one hand and Jean’s wooden sword in the other. He handed the toy to the lad, then spoke to Franc. “Is he hurt?”
“Nothing serious, thank the Almighty. Shaken up and dirty is all.” Franc lifted Jean. “You have had quite enough adventure for one day, young man. Best we find your mother and let her know you are safe. Where is Giselle?” he asked Lazarus. He could only imagine how worried she must be, and he wanted to return her son as swiftly as possible.
“She is waiting atop the hill.” Lazarus pointed to the upper edge of the ravine. “When I went back for the rope, she insisted on accompanying me, but I made her promise to wait for me there. She is most anxious to have the lad back in her arms, and understandably so.”
“Then we best see them reunited,” Franc said.
They had to crawl most of the way, but finally made it to the top—Jean riding on Franc’s back with his spindly arms hooked around his neck. He set the boy on the ground. “Go to your mama.”
Giselle didn’t wait for her son to get to her. Instead, she rushed up to him and curled her arms around his small frame, then hugged and kissed him repeatedly.
Genuinely touched by the happy reunion, Franc watched silently as they reconnected, again relieved and grateful that things ended on a happy note.
“Thank God you are not harmed. I was so worried,” she gasped, then her brow furrowed. She clutched her son’s shoulders and held him at arm’s length. “What did you think you were doing running off like you did? You had us all scared half to death. I should take you over my knee and paddle your bottom.”
Franc rested his hand on her shoulder. “I think he learned his lesson, and doubt he will ever wander off like this again.” While he could understand her anger at his disobedience and the terror she felt when he turned up missing, he believed the boy had already suffered enough. He cast Jean a stern glower. “Do you promise never to run off again?”
“I give my word.”
Franc patted him on the head. “Then I will hold you to it. A knight never goes back on his word.” He turned and headed toward the horses. “Best we be off. We have tarried here long enough and are wasting precious daylight.”
Chapter 16
When Lazarus finally reined in his mount and suggested they stop to rest for the night, Franc praised the Almighty beneath his breath. After much discussion, Giselle and her son still accompanied them, but he was now paying the price. He wished he’d insisted that she ride with Lazarus. Sharing a saddle with her soft round bottom nestled against his groin was pure torture, and he couldn’t wait to dismount.
After climbing from his saddle, he assisted Giselle to the ground, then moved to where his friend remained atop his horse—the sleeping lad nestled against his chest. “Give him to me.” Franc held out his arms.
Lazarus carefully passed Jean to Franc. “He nodded off about an hour ago. Poor laddie must be exhausted.”
Giselle joined them and stroked her sleeping son’s brow. “He must be hungry and thirsty too.” She took the boy, then carried him to a small patch of grass beneath an old oak tree and sat. She cradled him against her breast and began to rock back and forth, while humming softly.
“You must be famished and parched as well.” Franc approached with two lengths of plaid and a small canvas sack. After spreading one of the blankets on the ground, he handed Giselle the other. “Put the boy down and eat. He can have something when he awakens.”
“How long will we be stopping to rest?” She laid the child on one half of the blanket and covered his tiny shoulders and body with the remainder.
“After considering our situation, Lazarus and I agree that we cannot keep up this pace with a woman and child in tow, so we have dec
ided to stop for the night.” He uncapped his wineskin, then handed it to Giselle. “Drink.” While his tone was harsher than he intended, he needed to maintain his gruff demeanor or risk losing himself to desire.
“I promised that if you permitted us to accompany you, we’d be no bother, and I am a woman of my word.” She brought the wineskin to her lips, drank her fill, then inclined her chin. “We ask for no special boons. My son and I will be ready to ride any time you are.”
Franc admired Giselle’s spirit and determination, but had no doubts that she was exhausted and needed to rest too. “We will leave at first light.” He softened his tone and kept his voice low so as not to awaken the child. He handed her an oatcake. “Eat, then try to get some sleep.” He turned to go. The longer he stood there talking to her, the harder it got to deny the ever-growing desire burning in the pit of his stomach. Were it not for Lazarus and Jean, he’d drop to his knees, roll her beneath him, and take her here-and-now.
“What about the men who are following us?” Giselle asked.
“We’ve seen no sign of them so far, but Lazarus and I will take turns keeping watch.” Franc refrained from looking at her, knowing if he did and lost himself in her azure eyes, he would be unable to resist temptation.
Maintaining his distance, Franc watched as Giselle nibbled on the oatcake, then lay down beside her son. Once he was certain she’d nodded off, he retrieved the other length of plaid, draped it over her shoulders, then stepped away.
Lazarus approached, carrying some tree branches and dry leaves.
Franc brought his finger to his lips. “They are both asleep,” he whispered. “The lad never woke up, and Giselle’s eyes closed the moment she lay her head on the ground.” He looked at the wood. “What are you doing with that?”
Lazarus dropped what he carried, squatted, and cleared the leaves from a patch of dirt, not far from where Giselle and Jean slept. He then dug a hole a couple of feet in diameter. “It is a clear night, so am sure it will be cold. I thought I would make a small fire to help keep them warm.” He piled the logs in the hole and added the leaves, before repeatedly striking two rocks together to produce a spark.
“Do you think a fire is wise? What if the buggers are near? They might notice the smoke and flames,” Franc cautioned.
“That is why I dug the hole, then placed the logs in it,” Lazarus whispered. “I plan to keep the flames below the ground, and encircle the small pit with some large stones. By doing so, they will heat up and provide some warmth, but the fire willna be noticeable from a distance. We will make sure it is out by sunrise, so the smoke isna visible.”
“A sound idea,” Franc said, then wandered to the edge of the clearing to collect some rocks.
Once they completed their task, the two men moved away from the firepit. “Are you still angry that I sided with Giselle about the priory,” Lazarus asked. He opened a small canvas sack and took out a piece of dried venison, then handed the pouch to Franc.
“The boy could have been killed today, had the bore cornered him, or during the fall.” Franc snapped. Guilt tugged at his belly. He felt partly responsible for Jean’s near miss with death. Had he and Giselle not been arguing, and had they been paying closer attention to the child, he could not have wandered off. Another reason he believed they would be safer in a priory.
“But neither happened,” Lazarus reminded him. “Bairns wander off no matter how closely you keep an eye on them. But it all turned out fine in the end. Aside for a short delay in our travels, all is as it should be.”
“I just pray it stays that way, and we are not intercepted on our way to Rosslyn Castle,” Franc replied.
“So far we have seen no sign of the blackguards. Mayhap they gave up the chase after we eluded them in Kinloch.”
“You know as well as I that they will not stop hunting for us until they get what they want.” Franc chewed on a piece of dried meat, his eyes fixed on the spot where Giselle and Jean slept.
“She is a beautiful lass. I can see why you were so smitten, and you succumbed to temptation,” Lazarus said. “I wouldna rule out the possibility that Jean is your son either. And if he isna, he still needs a father, and I can think of no better man to step up to the task.”
“There is nothing left between us,” Franc declared adamantly. “Giselle and I no longer have feelings for each other, and once this is over, I will see her and the boy are safe, then plan to be on my way,” Franc lied. If possible, he was more drawn to her now than he was when they first met.
“You could have fooled me,” Lazarus chuckled. “I am na blind, and can see the way you gaze at her, and she at you when it is assumed no one is looking. I also saw the way you look at Jean,” he added. “I just hope you are smart enough to realize what you lost and take advantage of a second chance at love and a family. A man need na sire a bairn to love him like his own. I learned that when I met Sheena and her son Quinn. There is naught I wouldna do for either of them, or our wee lassie.”
“You have made your opinions clear.” Franc rose, then tossed the pouch of venison to Lazarus. “But I have no intention of rekindling a romance with Giselle. I am happy she is alive and wish her and the boy well. But being with me is not safe, and never will be, so I would appreciate it if you respected my decision and stop badgering me.” He stomped toward the edge of the clearing. “I will take the first watch, get some sleep.” He wanted her more than words could express, but convinced himself she was better off without him.
“I will relieve you in two hours,” Lazarus called after him.
Franc continued walking and didn’t respond.
~ ~ ~
Lazarus relieved him as planned, but despite the opportunity to rest, Franc couldn’t sleep. Instead, he tossed and turned until it was time to take over his second stint on guard.
Franc stood watch on the edge of the encampment—his mind clouded by thoughts of Giselle. All remained quiet, and he was thankful they had yet to see signs of their enemy. He was beginning to wonder if Lazarus might be right, and no one followed them after they fled Kinloch, but he knew his nemesis far too well to let down his guard. He guessed it was a little before sunrise, and he saw no point in waking Lazarus for final watch, so decided to do it himself.
He heard a twig snap. Aware someone approached from behind, he drew his sword, whipped around, and widened his stance, prepared to confront the intruder. “What the hell are you doing here? Are you daft, woman?” he growled, then lowered his blade. “Never sneak up behind a man who is standing watch. Especially in the dark. It is the quickest way to get yourself killed.”
“When I awakened and noticed you were not resting by the fire, I was concerned about you. The night air is so damp and chilly, I thought that you might be cold.” She closed the gap between them, then reached out to stroke his cheek. “I know I should have announced my presence sooner, but—”
“I care not what you thought.” Franc caught her wrist midair. He glared at the length of plaid draped over her arm, then pinned her with his stare. “I am not cold. And even if I was, you took a huge risk by creeping up behind me when you should be asleep.” Anger bubbled up from the pit of his stomach, but not just because she put herself in danger. He was trying to distance himself from her and stave off temptation, but so far it was not working. Touching her hand, and seeing her lovely features in the pre-dawn light heated his blood and made is groin stir with desire. Determined to stand his ground, he tightened his grip on her arm and gritted his teeth. “Go back to your son. Now.”
She winced, tugged her wrist free, then began to rub it. “You hurt me, Francois. Why are you so hostile?”
“I am just looking out for your safety,” he said. “This is not a lark. Even though the king’s men have yet to show their faces, to let down our guard would be foolish. The blackguards could come upon us without a moment’s notice and we ne
ed to be ready for them.”
“I am fully aware of the dangers.” Huddled beneath her arisaidh, she glared back at him. “I too witnessed what they can do. But I do not understand is why you are so angry with me.”
With his fist balled at his side, he battled the urge to lunge forward, haul her into his arms, and kiss her soundly. He refrained from telling her how he truly felt, and how badly he wanted to make love to her. Instead, he bit down on his lower lip to keep from saying something he would regret or could not take back.
“You told me that you loved me that day in the meadow. Or have you forgotten?”
With downcast eyes, he shook his head. “I remember.” He could never forget that day any more than he could forget to breathe. It was the day they joined, and the most amazing, earthshattering experience of his misery-filled life.
She rested her hand on his forearm. “I was devastated when I heard you were dead, but I hoped that now we have found each other again, you might still have some of those old feelings for me,” she said softly.
“But things are not as they once were,” Franc blurted. “You moved on, Giselle. You married and had a son with another man. Best you go back to that child now and leave me to stand guard.” He tried to move away from her, but she refused to let go of his arm, thus preventing his departure.
“Is that what this is all about?” she asked. “I thought you were dead, leaving me with no choice but to do what was best for me and my unborn babe.” She released him, then pressed a hand to her belly. “Oui, Francois. Jean is your son. He was named in honor of Papa and you, his father.” She paused to wipe away the tears tracking down her cheek, then glared up at him. “His full name is Jean Francois, and he was conceived the day you and I made love in the meadow.” She dragged the back of her hand across her face, catching the tears now streaming down her cheeks.
