The reaction from his cousin was immediate; Christian watched with mounting horror as the massive man emerged from the trees, carrying Gaithlin in his arms. Unconscious, her long body lay across Jasper’s armored arms, her delicious blond hair cascading to the ground like a macabre banner. Christian rose from his dominant position over his brother, panic in his throat as he eagerly extended his arms to accept her from his cousin’s custody. Without hesitation, Jasper delivered the Demon his wife.
“Good Christ,” Christian moaned, his eyes raking Gaithlin’s still form desperately. “What did you do to her?”
“Knocked her on the head before her screams could alert you,” Jasper replied frankly, eyeing Quinton as the man rose unsteadily to his feet. “She will recover.”
Christian’s face flushed an ugly shade of red as he tore his eyes away from his wife, focusing on his brother and cousin. “She’d better or I shall kill you both where you stand,” he growled, shifting his grip on Gaithlin to pull her more closely against him. “So you sought to catch me off guard, did you? What in the hell for?”
Quinton sneezed and snorted, spraying blood droplets. “We wanted to see for ourselves if the rumors were true.”
“What damn rumors?” Christian cradled Gaithlin to him fiercely, as if she were a babe.
The area beneath Quinton’s eyes was already darkening as he met his brother’s gaze. “Maggie came to Eden bearing news of your travels through Howard lands. She claimed that you and your alleged captive were acting more like lovers and she convinced father of the fact, hence my appearance in Galloway. To substantiate your treachery.”
Maggie. Christian thought bleakly. Damn her black, perfidious heart! In faith, he wasn’t surprised in the least; Maggie had always been sly and devious and he was well aware that she was seeking vengeance upon him for breaking their betrothal.
But Maggie’s twisted sense of revenge was of little concern. The only matter of interest at the moment was the woman in his arms as she struggled from the depths of unconsciousness. Unwilling to clarify the basis of Marble-head Maggie’s spiteful tales, especially when Quinton was so fond of her, he focused instead on the very factors supporting his brother’s abrupt visit.
“Quinton, if you would care to listen to my truthful version of events before any more blood is spilled, I should be happy to explain the factual circumstances. Surely you would trust my word over Maggie’s.”
Wiping at his leaking nose, Quinton couldn’t remember ever feeling more disgust or loathing; loathing for his brother, for the wench, for the entire situation that was sure to bring about a chaotic disorder to the House of St. John.
He had actually defended his brother against the vicious allegations, only to be humiliated and devastated to discover that he had been made a fool of by his own staunch sense of loyalties. Loyalties that were apparently misplaced, misdirected, and misguided. He couldn’t decide whether he was more disappointed in himself or in his brother; clearly, there was enough blame to be shared.
“Speak, then,” he hissed. “I don’t know what you could possibly say that could justify what you have done.”
Clutching Gaithlin tenderly, Christian met his brother’s hateful glower as evenly as he could muster; he, too, was feeling the sting of his own betrayal as reflected in the familiar brown eyes.
“A great deal, little brother,” he said. “In the first place, I married Lady Gaithlin to end the hostilities between the House of St. John and the House of de Gare once and for all. I am weary of a seventy-year-old Feud that began as a difference of opinion and escalated into the very essence of our existence. Secondly, the lady is our second cousin, related through the Clan Douglas, and the fact that I have married her should strengthen the undeniable blood ties and further quell the Feud.”
Shifting Gaithlin again as she moaned softly in mounting lucidity, he gazed down at her beautiful, pale face. “And lastly, I married this woman because I love her with all my heart. To hell with a foolish family legacy that requires our inherent hatred simply because our ancestors demand it. If Gaithlin and I can be the tool though which two families achieve peace, then it is my greatest accomplishment to do so. If not, then my wife and I will vanish from your lives forever. Do you understand what I am saying, Quinton? I do not want to battle any longer.”
Subdued, shaken, and completely bewildered, Quinton stared at his brother as if he could scarcely understand what he had been told. Even if his brother was striving to achieve a noble cause, whether or not he truly loved the woman stirring in his arms, he obviously did not understand the dire consequences he was preparing to face as a result of his weakness. But Quinton understood all too well.
“Have you gone completely mad?” he breathed. “Father is going to execute you for treason!”
Christian’s jaw ticked rhythmically with the force of his emotion. “He will come to see my reasoning. And he will come to understand that I am preserving generations of St. Johns from a life of warring and hatred; I do not want my children to be raised within an atmosphere of loathing and bias. And I do not believe you do, either.”
Quinton wiped at his tender nose, rolling his eyes in a desperate gesture. “How can you possibly believe that one marriage will end decades of feuding? You are not thinking clearly and the woman in your arms is the root of your confusion.”
Gaithlin chose that moment to open her eyes, the world unfocused and shaky. Realizing she was in Christian’s arms, she let out a weak, quaking sigh and threw both arms about his thick neck.
“Christian…,” she mumbled faintly.
He squeezed her quickly, a quieting gesture. “Shush, Gae,” he whispered, still focused on his brother. “Quinton, you must understand that I did not marry Gaithlin for purely selfish reasons. I also married her to guarantee a peace that our families haven’t known in seventy years. And I am certainly not mad in believing that one marriage will end hostilities; clearly, the path to truce must begin somewhere. I am willing to allow it to begin with me.”
Quinton’s gaze drifted from his brother to the woman pressed against Christian’s chest. He stared at her a moment as she blinked her eyes, fighting to clear her vision from a brutal blow, and Christian noted a distinct softening of Quinton’s grim features. He fully realized how confused and upset his brother was; in faith, he was quite expecting it.
But he also knew that the promise of peace was attractive to his brother’s inherently sensitive nature; Quinton could be indecisive and, at times, weak-willed, but he was a good man with a pure heart. And Christian was desperate to reach that portion of his brother’s spirit.
“Do you understand what I am saying, Quinnie?” he asked, his voice considerably softer. Pleading for the man’s understanding. “I am weary of battle. I have never known a life without war, be it at home or on the Welsh front defending Henry’s and Edward’s holdings. I don’t want to fight any more, little brother. I am tired of fighting.”
Quinton’s features continued to soften and Christian realized it was because his brother and Gaithlin had made eye-contact. After a moment, Quinton swiped at the remaining blood on his upper lip in an almost pensive gesture.
“Do you remember when you first saw her?” he asked quietly, tearing his eyes away from Gaithlin and focusing on his brother. “In the Disputed Lands, swimming in a lake. Do you recall?”
With the shock and pain of betrayal fading, Christian smiled faintly at his exhausted, confused younger brother. “You know I do. And do you remember what I said?”
Quinton nodded vaguely. “That you would forgive her if she was the daughter of Lucifer himself.”
“What else?”
“That you believed yourself to be instantly in love,” he licked his lip one last time, removing all traces of blood. “Apparently, you were being truthful.”
“Apparently,” Christian glanced down at his wife, who was regaining some color to her cheeks. Smiling gently, he carefully set her on weak legs. “Gae, this is my brother, Quinton. Hardly an ap
propriate circumstance for you two to meet.”
Gaithlin could hardly look at the man much less greet him. The fear and hatred of the St. John rabble returned full-force and she stared at the ground, averting her gaze from Quinton’s probing stare. Christian sensed her natural apprehension and loathing, squeezing her reassuringly when she refused to look at her new brother-in-law.
Even if she was being deliberately evasive, Quinton continued to scrutinize her closely, seeing under the clear moonlight that she was far more beautiful that he had remembered. “We have been watching your camp for the better part of the day,” he said quietly. “We arrived just after you apparently returned home from a small sojourn. I must say, I wasn’t overly surprised when I discovered who your blond captive was. We speculated her lineage the day you first saw her.”
Christian nodded, his arm protectively about Gaithlin’s shoulders as she practically climbed inside his clothing in an attempt to hide from the cluster of St. John soldiers. “Even so, I was quite shocked to discover who she was when I abducted her from St. Esk. By the way, has there been any repercussions regarding my action?”
Quinton shook his head. “Not a word. And no word from Alex de Gare, either. Either he doesn’t care that we have captured his daughter or he’s too stupid to read the missives delivered.” When Gaithlin’s head came up sharply, her eyes blazing with fury, Quinton cleared his throat with regret at his bold, unthinking statement. In fact, it was completely natural to belittle a de Gare with any given chance. “As I said, we have received no reply to our… accomplishment.”
Christian patted his wife’s shoulder calmly, feeling her lanky body tensing against him at Quinton’s insult. “Alex is a proud man, Quinton. He may be waiting for the appropriate moment to respond.” Casting a glance into Gaithlin’s astonished eyes, astonished that he was obviously willing to continue the de Gare charade, he released her shoulders and took her hand tenderly within his own. Facing his brother with a measure of bolstered courage, he attempted to gain the upper-hand on the situation. “Now, then. I intend to return my wife to Winding Cross before announcing my marriage to father. I believe it would be….”
For the first time during the entire conversation, Jasper delved into the sibling dialogue. “We have orders from Uncle Jean, Christian. And we must adhere to them, no matter what other plans you may have made.”
Christian’s apprehension made a swift return as he faced his massive, simple-minded cousin; the man was a war-machine. His actions were based on the directives of his commander and by those mandates alone; there was little compassion to his manner and even less thought. He did as he was told, no matter what the given circumstances. No matter if his orders were merciful or not, and Christian was positive they was not.
“And what are those?”
Quinton abruptly turned an odd shade of white, his breathing gaining momentum as Jasper and Christian focused on one another.
“That we return you to Eden to face your father’s judgment. And that we kill your captive.”
Immediately, Christian thrust Gaithlin behind him. There would be no reasoning with Jasper as there had been with Quinton; Jasper had his orders and he would carry them out or die in the attempt. Christian knew him well enough to know that the hope for a peaceful, bloodless conclusion had been dashed.
“Gae, retrieve my sword. Now.”’
Gaithlin gasped, clutching her husband about the waist. “Christian, what…?”
“Do it!” he roared.
Stumbling, Gaithlin moved away from her husband, fear and panic welling within her mind. Even though her head was throbbing and the world was still rocking, she clearly understood that she and Christian were in a great deal of danger.
It was as she had always feared; Christian’s treacherous, selfless devotion would indeed cause his own men to turn against him. Gasping with terror, she dashed across the clearing, listening to Christian’s roar of anger when his brother attempted to follow her. More terror, more anxiety… tripping through the front door of their shelter, she nearly knocked an equally frenzied Malcolm on his skinny little bottom.
Gaithlin wasn’t afforded the opportunity to speak as astonishment and panic overwhelmed her. Suddenly, Malcolm was thrusting a sword into her palm. “Give it tae Sir Christian!” he commanded, shoving another battle weapon into her other hand. “An’ this is fer ye!”
Struggling to keep her hysterics from raging out of control, Gaithlin accepted the weapons from the young boy as if she were a warrior serving in battle. Head spinning and chest heaving, she ran from the sod shelter as fast as her long legs would carry her.
The sword and war hammer were heavy as she raced across the clearing towards her husband and his antagonistic family members. She could hear their muffled voices but was unable to distinguish the words as she charged up, bearing two mighty weapons. A tangible fury had begun to take root, displacing her panic and feeding off it at the same time; how dare the St. John horde threatened her Christian when his motives and his desires were truly noble! How dare they question his wisdom when he is truly considering their future!
How dare they reject his overture of peace!
Gaithlin had never been afraid to use a weapon; clearly, Christian had discovered that from the first. Bearing down on the three uneasy men, she shoved Christian’s heavy broadsword into the ground blade-first and brandished the war hammer with a powerful, offensive grip.
“Get away from him, you St. John bastards,” she seethed, her focus almost entirely on Jasper. “Move away from him or I shall cut your damnable heads off.”
All three men looked to her, Christian moving away from his cousin and brother to retrieve his impaled sword. Although Jasper’s expression was still frozen in a menacing glare, Quinton seemed entirely indecisive as he gazed steadily on his new sister-in-law.
“My lady,” he began quietly. “You have to understand… we must do this. Christian knows that we must follow my father’s orders.”
“Your father is wrong,” Gaithlin hissed, tightening her grip on the hilt of the hammer. “Your father is as stupid as mine when it comes to the welfare and regard of his family. He cares not for peace or true contentment, but only the hereditary triumph the Feud can bring him. And he doesn’t care how he achieves victory, only that it be attained.”
Beside her, he heard Christian’s emotional sigh. “As I said, I shall… return with you to Eden if you leave my wife in peace. I don’t want her involved in any bloodshed, Jasper. I will come with you peaceably.”
Quinton nodded faintly, feeling disoriented and drained. But Jasper would have no part of Quinton’s weakening stance; Christian could not convince him that his treacherous actions had been correct as he had so easily swayed his foolish, adoring younger brother.
Unsheathing his sword, the entire company of men that had been hidden in the recesses of the Wood suddenly stepped into the clearing, forming a half-circle around Christian and Gaithlin. Malcolm, who had followed Gaithlin from the shelter with one dirk in each hand, stared at the collection of soldiers with huge eyes; he had come to help the lady defend her husband from the pair of evil warriors. He realized that mayhap his bravery had not been entirely wise.
But he would not back down from his protective stance; he was dedicated to the knight and his lady to the death, and he swallowed hard as the English soldiers drew closer. He wondered what it would feel like to have a sword driven deep into his fearless little heart.
Meanwhile, Christian had moved in front of Gaithlin, entirely focused on his mighty cousin. “Don’t do this, Jasper. I have no desire to kill you.”
Jasper lowered his visor. “I have my orders, Christian. Return you to Eden and kill your captive.”
“She’s my wife. I shall not allow you to kill her.”
“She’s a de Gare.”
Quinton put his hands up as his brother and cousin squared off against one another. “Christian’s not wearing any armor, Jasper. This is hardly a fair fight.”
&nb
sp; “Hold your tongue, Quinton,” Jasper’s voice was low. “You have proven thus far to be entirely weak-willed and disobedient to your father’s directives. You will allow me to handle the situation.”
Quinton’s jaw ticked angrily as he faced his cousin. “I am in command, Jasper, not you. You will do as I say.”
Jasper’s helmed head turned in Quinton’s direction. “And you are showing distinct traitorous tendencies like your brother.”
“Bite your tongue, you bastard.”
“You’re listening to his lies.”
“They’re not lies. Only your stupid mind would be unable to make sense out of his sound reasoning.”
In spite of the razor-sharp tension filling the chill night air of the Galloway clearing, Christian found himself, as usual, intervening in a squabble between Jasper and Quinton. “Enough!” he roared, waving his brother away irritably. “Move away, Quinton, unless you want me to gore you too.”
Amazingly enough, Quinton kept silent. With the greatest of remorse and sorrow in his eyes, he moved out of Christian’s line of sight as Jasper properly distracted the man with his imminent hazard.
Aye, Quinton was weak-willed and foolish at times, mouthy and opinionated. But he was also clever. And he knew there was only one way to prevent Christian and Jasper from killing each other, no matter how covert or treacherous that method may be. As his brother and cousin focused on one another in battle-heightened determination, Quinton made his way towards an equally distracted Gaithlin. He had to take her; only then would his brother surrender.
Gaithlin was so preoccupied with her husband’s battle, in fact, that she never saw Quinton approach. The next she realized, massive hands were grasping her war hammer and she yelped with surprise and fear, struggling fiercely against Quinton’s iron grip. One moment, Christian was preparing to battle for her life; in the next, she was waging her own mighty skirmish.
Christian heard her grunts of panic and exertion. Puzzled, he tore his eyes off his powerful cousin long enough to witness his brother and wife struggling viciously over the war hammer. Suddenly terrified that Quinton planned to carry out her execution while Jasper held his attention captive, Christian broke away from his impending duel in a furious burst of speed and power.
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