by Scott, B. J.
“Just Hugh letting us know we have reached Rosslyn Castle. They rode on to let his uncle know we are coming.” Franc tucked a stray lock of her hair behind Giselle’s ear, then pressed a quick kiss to her lips.
“It is near sundown. How long have I been asleep?” She quickly glanced over her shoulder at Lazarus and Jean.
“Four hours, maybe five. The same goes for our son,” Franc said. “But you both needed the rest.”
She gasped and clawed her fingers through her disheveled hair. “I must look a fright.”
“Tu es belle, mon amour,” Franc replied, then kissed the tip of her nose.
“I do not feel beautiful,” she said. “Why did you let me sleep so long? What must Hugh think?”
“You were spent, and understandably so. Hugh offered to stop for a break, but you were already sleeping so soundly I did not see the need. If you are still tired when we get inside the keep, I am sure his uncle will not mind if you wish to go directly to a chamber.”
“I will be fine, and do not wish to offend him.” She yawned again, then cupped a hand over her eyes and peered at the castle in the distance. “The stronghold is so large and imposing. I have never seen so many guards on a curtain wall.”
“Oui. I can see why it was chosen as the temporary holding place for the pieces of the treasure.”
“Temporary?” she asked. “I thought once we delivered the chalice to Lord Sinclair, your part in this was over.”
“There is no need for you to worry, ma chéri. It will be done, as far as we are concerned,” Franc reassured her. “But the treasure is far too valuable to keep in one place for long. Most of the pieces that came to Scotland following the fall of the Templar order came to Rosslyn Castle, pending transportation to a final resting place. A secret spot known only to a select few.”
Lazarus rode up beside Franc. “Impressive, is it na? I heard tell of its grander, but the rumors dinna do it justice.”
“Is Fraser Castle this big?” Jean scrubbed his fist across his eyes.
“Perhaps it is not quite as large,” Franc said before Lazarus had the chance. “But it is equally impressive and as well fortified.”
“When will we go there?” Jean asked. “I wonder if the puppies are born yet?”
Lazarus laughed and tousled the lad’s hair. “We will leave once Franc has completed his business with Lord Sinclair. And dinna fash about the puppy. I am sure there will be a large litter to choose from.” He glanced at Franc. “We best na keep Lord Sinclair waiting. Hold on tightly,” he said to Jean, then kicked his horse into a trot.
“You best hold on too,” Franc warned Giselle, then slapped his destrier on the rear and raced after Lazarus.
“I was about to come back for you,” Hugh announced as he strode down the steps of the castle. “One would think you would be anxious to get your feet planted on firm ground.” He laughed, then sauntered over to Franc’s horse and reached for Giselle. “If you will permit me, m’lady, I will help you down.”
Giselle nodded. “Merci, monsieur.”
“Mon plaisir, mademoiselle,” Hugh said, then wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her from the saddle.
“You speak French?” Giselle sounded surprised. As her feet touched the ground, she wobbled and grasped his arm for support. “My apologies. I am afraid my legs are numb from being on horseback for so long.”
“I am na surprised.” Hugh covered her hand with his own and waited until she was steady before removing it. He took a step back, then answered her initial question. “I speak French and several other languages, as I am sure Franc does,” he said. “Templars needed to converse with pilgrims from many different countries while protecting them on their journey to the Holy Land. And while my clan has lived in Scotland for many years, our ancestors originally came from the Saint Clair region of Normandy. Have you been there?”
“No, but I heard it was beautiful.”
“Then by all means you should visit it someday.” He inched closer. “The shore along the northwest coast of France is magnifique. Almost as lovely as you.”
“You flatter me, Monsieur Sinclair.” Giselle’s face blushed red, and she glanced away.
“I speak only the truth, m’lady.” He bowed, then clasped her hand and kissed the back of it.”
Suddenly feeling an unexpected pang of jealousy, Franc dismounted. “I am sure Lord Sinclair is waiting for us.” After retrieving the chalice from the pouch at the back of his saddle, he possessively snaked his arm around Giselle’s shoulders. “If you would lead the way, Hugh.”
“Aye. Follow me.” Hugh wiggled a brow and a smirk teased his lips. “My uncle is waiting in the great hall, along with my aunt and several other Templar masters.” He spun on his heel and dashed up the stairs.
Franc looked at Lazarus. “Will you bring Jean?”
“Of course.” Lazarus quickly dismounted, then plucked the lad from his saddle, took his hand, and followed his friends into the castle.
Chapter 20
“Welcome,” a man Franc assumed was Henry Sinclair bellowed from the dais in the great hall. He placed his tankard on the trestle table and headed in their direction with his hand outstretched. “Monsieur de Valier, it is a pleasure.” He grasped Franc’s wrist and gave it a hearty shake, then released it and offered the same greeting to Lazarus. “And you must be Lazarus Fraser. I believe I met your father, Andrew Fraser, many summers ago. It was just prior to Longshank’s attack on Berwick. You must have still been a lad at the time. I was also good friends with your father’s cousin Sir Simon Fraser.”
“At your service, Lord Sinclair,” Lazarus replied. “My father was killed at the massacre at Berwick. My cousin died several summers later at the hands of the English.”
“I was sorry to hear of it,” Laird Sinclair said. “I have also had the pleasure of meeting your brothers. We fought shoulder-to-shoulder at Bannockburn.”
“While they were fighting the English, I was in the Holy Land,” Lazarus said.
“Your father would be proud of all of you,” Sinclair said, then smiled at Giselle.
Franc placed his hand in the small of her back and nudged her forward. “May I introduce you to Giselle MacPherson, m’lord.”
Giselle curtsied. “Lord Sinclair.”
“It is my pleasure to meet the niece of Harold Finlay, and the daughter of Jean Rideau, m’lady.” Laird Sinclair bowed. “My condolences for the loss of both your father and your uncle. They were noble knights, and I proudly called them my friends. May I also offer my sincere sympathies for the loss of your husband Fergus.”
“Thank you, m’lord. Uncle Harold will be sorely missed, as are Papa and Fergus.” She wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.
“And who might this lad be?” Laird Sinclair moved toward Jean.”
The boy boldly stepped forward and puffed out his chest. “I am Jean MacPherson, and I want to be a knight.”
“Is that so?” Laird Sinclair lifted a brow.
“Aye. I am going to kill the English like my papa, and the French Guard like Lord Hugh.”
Laird Sinclair tossed back his head and laughed. “Those are noble aspirations, laddie, but you will need to grow a wee bit, and ask your mam’s permission first.”
“I already had a sword, my papa made it for me. But I lost it when the bad men attacked us,” Jean said, then lowered his gaze.
Lord Sinclair crouched before the lad and hooked a finger under his chin and lifted until their eyes met. “Then we will have to get you another one,” he said, smiling. “Would you like that?”
Jean enthusiastically bobbed his head, then announced, “Franc said he would make me another one when we go to Fraser Castle. I am going to get a puppy too. Lazarus promised.”
“You dinna say.” Laird Sinclair rose
and faced Franc. “Are you thinking about going back to Fraser Castle with Lazarus?”
“It is what I have planned. After giving you the chalice, of course.” He reached into the pouch and took out the linen-swaddled artifact and handed it to Sinclair.
The laird carefully unwrapped the goblet, then lifted it to the light. “I had forgotten just how magnificent this was.” He quickly wrapped it again, and addressed his guests. “I am forgetting my manners. You have all been through a horrible ordeal. I can see by the cuts and bruises on his face, and given what Hugh told me about the attack, Franc has some injuries that could use tending.”
“I am fine, m’lord,” Franc responded.
“That may be, but I am sure you are all exhausted and hungry.” He turned to one of the servants. “Ian, could you please show my guest their chambers and tell the healer to see to Monsieur de Valier’s injuries when he goes to his?”
“Right away, m’lord. If you will follow me, I will take you to your rooms,” he said to Lazarus and Giselle. “I have separate chambers picked out for each of the gentlemen, and one for the lass and her son to share.”
“We postponed the evening meal, awaiting your arrival, but if you are too tired, I could have something sent up to your chambers,” Laird Sinclair offered.
“If you do not mind waiting for us to clean up, we will return and join you for the meal,” Franc said.
“Would it be possible to have something sent up for Jean?” Giselle asked. “He has barely seen three summers, and is nearly dead on his feet. I would like to put him to bed.”
“By all means. I will have Cook fix him something to eat and ask one of the maids to sit with him while you dine with me,” Laird Sinclair replied.
“You are most kind, m’lord.” Giselle said.
“Could I speak with you privately before you go upstairs, Franc?” Laird Sinclair asked. “Mairi can show Giselle and Jean to their chamber, and Ian can take Lazarus to his while we chat.” He motioned with a flick of his hand toward a young woman standing near the door.
The lass hurried over and bobbed a curtsy. “Aye, m’lord.”
“Please see that Lady Giselle and her son are taken to their chamber. She will need a basin of water to wash and a clean gown. I am sure my wife has something suitable she can wear,” Laird Sinclair said. “I will have a tray sent up for the lad, and once he has eaten, ask that you stay with him so his mother can enjoy the evening meal.”
“Aye, m’lord,” Mairi said.
Franc looked at Giselle, wondering what she thought of his remaining behind while they went upstairs without him.
“We will be fine, Franc. Stay here and speak with Laird Sinclair if you would like and we will go with Mairi.” She clasped Jean’s hand, then faced the maid. “Lead the way.”
Franc watched as they departed, leaving him alone with Laird Sinclair. He wondered what he wished to speak to him about, but deep down he thought he knew, and prayed he was wrong.
“Come join me in a tankard of ale at the dais, Franc.” With the chalice still tightly clutched in his hand, Laird Sinclair turned and strode toward the front of the great hall, rounded the table, then sat. He gestured at the empty chair beside him. “Have a seat.”
Franc did as the laird requested, pensively waiting to hear what he had to say.
Sinclair filled two tankards with ale, then handed one to Franc. “Despite the danger and risks, you delivered the chalice. Here is to a task well done. Slàinte Mhath!” He raised his tankard, then downed the content in one gulp.
After joining him in the toast, Franc set his mug on the table. “What is it you wished to speak to me about?”
Laird Sinclair leaned back in his chair and caught Franc’s gaze. “I know all about you and your contribution to the cause over the years, your humble beginnings with Lloyd Marques, and your rise to the rank of Templar knight.” Sinclair filled his tankard again and took a sip. “Having been there, I know what it was like for you fighting in the Holy Land. I also know about your imprisonment in France, the torture you endured, and your escape from the bastille of King Philip IV.”
While he knew Sinclair was a revered Templar master, one of the selected few charged with keeping the treasure safe, and privy to more than most, he was surprised he knew so much about him. He was after all, only one of thousands of Templars who served over the years.
“It was not an easy life, but I was honored to do my part,” Franc said. “However, there were many who served, and I am no one special.”
“You are wrong, lad.” Sinclair rested his hand on Franc’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “A rare few were selected to carry a part of the treasure. Knights whose honor and dedication were beyond question.”
“I was not one of the chosen few,” Franc reminded him. “I protected the chalice to honor an oath I made to Master Marques. The Grand Masters entrusted it to him, not me. It was not until just prior to his arrest that I even knew it existed, or about the secret covenant. Out of loyalty to him, I vowed to see it reached its destination when he could not.”
“I know how you came by the chalice,” Sinclair said. “But you dinna have to accept the challenge, or the danger keeping it safe entailed.”
“You appear to know much about my past, so must be aware that I was orphaned at an early age and sent by the church to the Holy Land to serve. Master Marques taught me honor and discipline. He was like a father to me and treated me well, so I could refuse him nothing.”
“You proved yourself worthy of much more than knighthood by honoring your promise to your master, regardless of the sacrifices you made and the hardships you endured,” Sinclair replied. “I hoped that I might be able to persuade you to remain with us.”
Franc stiffened, then lifted his tankard and took a large gulp of ale before answering, “Hugh mentioned your gracious offer when we were on our way to Rosslyn Castle. But as I told him, I have already completed my quest by delivering the chalice.”
“Aye, but there is more you can do, if you so desire,” Sinclair said. “The persecution of the Templars dinna stop with the deaths of Philip IV and Pope Clement. You are aware of the continuing dangers our brethren still face in France, and here in Scotland.”
Franc rubbed his bruised ribs. “I am painfully aware of what still goes on.”
“As Templar knights, it is our duty to protect the weak and innocent from oppression. Without men like you to carry on the cause, no one is safe, and many will die.”
Franc cursed beneath his breath. After he delivered the chalice, he fully intended to put his life as a Templar behind him. But he also knew if not for Hugh Sinclair and the knights, he and Lazarus would have perished at the hands of Bateau, and there was no guarantee that Giselle and Jean would still be alive. He shuddered to think what horrors could have befallen them if recaptured. “I am grateful Hugh and his knights came along when they did. But—”
“Then show your appreciation and prove your dedication by accepting my offer, and the chance to protect those the French king is determined to destroy.”
Not sure how to respond, Franc chewed on his lower lip. It appeared that in addition to knowing a lot more about him and his past than he expected, Sinclair was aware of his ingrained sense of loyalty and honor. He loved Giselle and Jean, and wanted to make a life with them. He had already asked her to marry him, and Jean was excited about living at Fraser Castle. But he could not ignore the fact that he not only owed Sinclair and his band of knights his life, but the lives of the people he held most dear as well. “I honestly do not know what to say,” he finally responded.
“Give it some thought. It may sound like a lot to ask, but I know in my heart you will do the right thing. Otherwise, Master Marques would not have trusted you the way he did.” Finished making his offer to Franc, Sinclair rose to greet Giselle and Lazarus when they enter
ed the great hall. “Welcome. Ian, please inform the others who are dining with us this evening that the meal will commence shortly.” He dismissed the servant with a flick of his hand, then gestured to the dais and addressed his guests. “Join us. Please.”
Franc’s mind raced, and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He had no idea what to say to Sinclair, and he certainly did not know how to tell Giselle about the request, knowing full well that if he agreed to remain a knight, their chance for a life together would end before it started.
She’d already made it clear before accepting his proposal that she couldn’t continue to live under the shadow of the Templar curse, and refused to raise her son in constant fear. He also knew if he accepted this challenge, and she agreed to marry him anyway, he would always be in danger of losing his life, and the probability of leaving behind a grieving widow and child was something he didn’t want to think about. She had already buried one husband, and Jean lost his father. And while there were no guarantees in life, he could not ask them to go through that again, knowing it might simply be prevented if he declined Sinclair’s offer.
Chapter 21
Giselle took the seat beside Franc, then leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “What did Laird Sinclair want that could not wait until after you had a chance to freshen up?”
Franc shrugged and took a sip of ale. “He merely wanted to thank me again for bringing the chalice to Rosslyn Castle,” he answered in an equally quiet tone so only she could hear him.
“Did you tell him we are to be wed?”
“The opportunity did not come up,” he lied. He had plenty of time to tell Sinclair about his proposal to Giselle, and that now he had delivered the chalice, he planned to put his days as a Templar behind him. As long as he remained torn about what to do, he could not tell her the truth. His sense of honor and duty told him to remain at Rosslyn Castle and to accept Sinclair’s offer. But he hated to break her heart and forgo a life with the woman he loved more than life itself and their son. He lost her once, and did not want to lose her again.
