The big knight went to Christian’s side, wondering what the man was looking at and shocked when he realized that Jean was on the floor with blood covering his chest. He went to kneel beside the man, to help him, but Christian stopped him.
“Nay,” Christian said quietly. “He is quite dead.”
Jasper’s brow furrowed as he gazed down at his uncle’s corpse. “What…?” he stammered, looking at Christian, realizing the man was also covered in blood. “How did this happen?”
Christian gazed steadily at his father. “He attacked me,” he said after a moment. “He caught me off guard and when he threw himself on top of me, he impaled himself upon my quill. The quill is over on the table if you want to look at it.”
Jasper was stunned. His gaze moved between Christian and Jean and back again as if trying to determine what, in fact, had truly happened. His simple mind could not think of anything other than the facts before him and knowing what he did of Jean and Christian’s relationship as of late, he could only come to one conclusion.
“You killed him!” he accused.
Christian shook his head patiently. “I did not kill him,” he said steadily. “He attacked me and accidentally impaled himself on my quill. Even if that was not the case, I am the Lord of Eden now and my word is law. If you do not agree, you can get out of here and never come back. I mean it, Jasper; I will have your loyalty or I will banish you from Eden. Make your choice.”
Jasper was aghast. He looked at his cousin, turmoil in his expression, but he realized that Christian was correct; he was Lord of Eden now. Jasper felt as much confusion and angst about that as he was capable, but one thing was clear – Christian was now in command of Eden. The Demon now ruled Eden.
“Your father wanted to kill you for what you had done,” he rumbled. “He said you were a traitor. Is that why you killed him? Because he thought you had betrayed the House of St. John by fornicating with the de Gare wench?”
Christian sighed heavily. “I told you I did not kill him,” he said. “If you say that again, I will run you through. I married Gaithlin de Gare to secure peace between our two families and end the Feud once and for all. I love my family enough to want peace. I am tired of death and fighting, Jasper. Aren’t you?”
Jasper was set off-balance by Christian’s words. “Since when do you distain fighting?” he wanted to know. “You, who have carved out a great reputation as a great warrior. How can you say you are tired of fighting?”
“Because I am,” Christian said frankly. “I want to grow old and watch my children grow up without the fear of battle hanging over their heads. Doesn’t that make sense to you, Jasper? Do you want to spend the rest of your life risking your hide for an old Feud that no one cares about any longer? Don’t you want something more for your life?”
Jasper thought about that as Jean’s bloodied corpse kept drawing his attention. Since his father had died at a young age, Jean was essentially the only father he had ever known. He knew Christian had killed him and it ate at him; whether or not it was an accident, Christian was still responsible. Someone had to avenge Jean and Jasper would gladly seek it. Christian, the traitor, had to pay.
“There is nothing more for my life,” he growled, reaching for his sword. “Eden and Uncle Jean are my masters and this Feud you no longer have the stomach to fight is something I will never surrender. It is in my blood and in yours.”
Christian could see that Jasper was moving for his weapon and he quickly moved away from him. “The Feud is over.”
“The Feud is your obligation!”
“Jasper, think a moment.” Christian didn’t want to have to kill the man but he would do it if he were attacked. “Do you even know why we fight against the House of de Gare? Or are you really so simple that you only do as you are told without wondering why you have been told to do it?”
Jasper’s broadsword glittered wickedly in the weak light. “Anyone who consorts with the House of de Gare is a traitor,” he grumbled. “Marble-head Maggie found out the hard way. Now you shall find out as well.”
Christian’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean Maggie found out the hard way?”
Jasper had been told not to divulge the circumstances surrounding Maggie’s death but at the moment, he didn’t care. He wanted to see Christian’s face when he told him. “Just what I said,” he replied. “She had been visiting Alex de Gare, betraying us at every turn. It was she who told Alex where you had taken his daughter. Uncle Jean ordered me to kill her for her betrayal and I did.”
Christian couldn’t hide his shock. “You killed Maggie?”
Jasper nodded with smug intent. “I did indeed,” he muttered. “And now, I shall kill you as I should have done the moment we found you in Scotland with the de Gare bitch. Uncle Jean was correct; you have betrayed us all. Meet your maker, Demon!”
Jasper ran at him with his sword lifted and Christian was at a distinct disadvantage; his sword, along with the rest of his weapons, had been left behind in Scotland. As Jasper came near, Christian grabbed the chair next to his writing desk and swung it at Jasper’s head. The broadsword wasn’t enough to block the heavy chair, which Christian swung with all of his might. It caught Jasper right in the forehead and sent him to the ground.
But the man was still semi-lucid and Christian knew he would rise up and attack him again, so he grabbed the heavy iron sconce upon his desk and brained Jasper with it, spraying hot candle wax all over everything. It was a violent action as the dull thump of iron against bone echoed in the chamber. Jasper stilled immediately, knocked cold.
Breathing heavily with exertion, Christian stood over his cousin’s unconscious form, wondering if he should simply kill him and be done with it. He knew Jasper and knew the man was a killing machine; if he sought vengeance against Christian, then he had the scent of blood in his nostrils. He would never stop until he killed Christian or Christian killed him.
But Christian didn’t want to outright murder his cousin; perhaps with time the man would forget about his anger and hatred. The death of Jean had unbalanced both of them. Perhaps with time, Jasper would return to normal. Until that occurrence, however, Christian intended to take no chances.
He chained Jasper up in the vault of Eden personally, and the quill that had killed his father ended up in the fire, never to be used again.
‘I had loved her in eons past, in many forms, and would continue to do so through eternity;
This heart, this soul, and this body that belonged to me
In her eyes, I saw starlight and in her face, I saw God
That I could not breathe without her in my arms,
Nor could I think without her subtle whisper upon my ear.
That which belonged to me had always belonged to me,
A shining angel that is my wife.
She is all.’
~ Chronicles of Christian St. John
Vl. XI, p. CXXVI
CHAPTER TWENTY
Christian knew that if he rode swiftly, he could make it to Scotland in a couple of days. There would hardly be opportunity for rest or reprieve, but he didn’t care. Quinton had still not returned to Eden and Christian was nearly crazed with worry, wanting to know what had happened. Was Gaithlin safe? Was Quinton safe? Were they both dead? The lack of information had driven Christian to the brink of insanity.
The events with his father and Jasper hadn’t helped his mental state. Jean’s death was still weighing very heavily on him but he couldn’t dwell on it. Still, he felt as if emotions and guilt were weighing him down, threatening to suck him into an abyss of pain. He kept reliving the conversation with his father over and over, wondering if there wasn’t something more he could have said or done to prevent what had happened. Maybe he should not have told him of Alex’s death as he had. Maybe he should have waited until his father was in a more stable frame of mind but, given his father’s behavior towards him, he wasn’t entirely sure his father would ever be stable.
He had very much wanted to convince
his father that peace was the correct course, but perhaps it was never meant to be. Maybe the news about Alex’s death hadn’t really mattered one way or the other. Jean St. John had been fighting the Feud since birth, as had Christian, but the man had known the hatred longer than Christian ever had. It was ingrained in him, a part of him. Perhaps life without the Feud was something he could have never understood. Christian would never know, and that hurt him deeply.
But he shook it off; he couldn’t dwell on it if he was going to focus on finding his wife and brother. An hour after the incident with his father and Jasper, Christian was preparing to ride from Eden. With Jasper locked safely away in the vault under the guard of men personally sworn to Christian, and Jean’s body being prepared for burial, Christian exited the stables with a horse he had personally selected when cries from the sentries went up.
“Who is it?” he bellowed up to the walls.
Men were straining to see into the soft light of the mid-afternoon. Finally, one of them waved down to him. “Scots, my lord!” he shouted. “Hundreds of them!”
Christian’s brow furrowed in confusion. He handed the horse over to a groom as he made his way out of the stable yard and into the main part of the bailey. Clouds were starting to form overhead as he headed to the gatehouse, drops of rain gently pelting him. They spotted the heavy leather vest he was wearing and the breeches he had borrowed from his brother. As he leapt onto the ladder that would take him up to the wall, one of the sentries yelled down to him.
“Sir Quinton is returned!” he said excitedly. “I can see his horse!”
Startled, Christian jumped off the ladder. “Lift the portcullis!” he commanded. “Open the gates!”
He ran towards the passage of the gatehouse as the old portcullis shuddered as the men began to lift it. Chains rattled and groaned as Christian strained to see down the road that stretched from Eden out into the landscape beyond. There were trees and rolling hills, but mostly a massive clearing around the castle for a better field of fire. Christian could see the army approaching and the sea of brown tartan intermingled with men in mail. But very clearly, he saw Quinton at the head of it along with other knights on horseback. And then, he saw something else.
A woman with exquisite blond hair blowing in the breeze astride his big white charger. It took him a split second to realize that Gaithlin was riding with his brother and he bolted beneath the lifting portcullis, racing out onto the road. He was filled with joy beyond measure, running towards his wife even as she caught sight of him and spurred the charger forward. But the big white charger wouldn’t cooperate so she gave up trying to ride the horse; leaping off the animal, she stumbled and ended up on her arse. Christian could hear her laughing from where he was.
But she did scramble to her feet about the time Christian reached her. Together, they came together in a massive clash of flesh, blood, and heart, their delighted laughter filling the air. The army around them came to a halt, watching as the Demon of Eden swallowed up his wife, a de Gare, in a manner of passion that no one had ever been witness to. It was something that radiated its own warmth, shining like the sun, until all who witnessed the event knew that never in the history of the world had a man ever loved a woman more than the Demon loved his enemy wife.
“You are alive,” Christian gasped between heated kisses. “Good Christ, I cannot tell you how hard I have prayed for your safety. Are you well, Gae? You have not been injured, have you?”
Gaithlin gasped as he kissed her furiously. She could barely speak through his passionate and thrilled kisses. “I am fine,” she assured him. “Are you well? Your men… they took you away and….”
He cut her off, slowing his kisses as he cupped her face and gazed deeply into her eyes. “I am unharmed,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “They did not hurt me.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am sure.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him but gave him the courtesy of not arguing. He looked healthy enough so she would have to be satisfied with that for the moment.
Christian caressed her cheeks with his thumbs, feeling the soft texture against his skin, as his gaze sought out his brother. Quinton was astride his charger a few feet away, his expression wrought with a mixture of approval, understanding, and relief. Christian smiled at him.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “For not harming her, I thank you. I am forever indebted to you, Quinton.”
Quinton threw a leg over the pommel of the saddle and slid to the ground. He unlatched his helm as he approached the pair.
“Surely you knew I was not going to harm her,” he said, his voice soft as his gaze shifted to Eden. His eyes perused the stone gatehouse and, after a moment, he shook his head. “I do not know how I am going to explain this to Father but I assume you will support me in my decision to disobey his directive.”
Christian’s smile faded as Gaithlin captured his attention, her hand on his cheek. “My mother came shortly after you were taken away,” she said, quickly explaining the sequence of events. “It would seem that she followed your brother and his army from Eden with the intention of rescuing me from you. Christian, whatever has happened with your father, please know that my mother and I have agreed to surrender Winding Cross in order to gain your freedom. We thought that surely your father would have you in chains for what you had done.”
Christian’s eyebrows lifted. “As you can see, I am quite free,” he said, his focus moving to the rather substantial army that had accompanied his wife. “Although it is not necessary to surrender Winding Cross on my behalf, I would like to know who are all of these Scots.”
Gaithlin turned around, seeing Roger and Mac along with their contingent of Scotsmen. “It’s rather a confusing story,” she said. “Roger Douglas found out that the armies of Eden and Winding Cross were on his lands so he followed them. It seems that everyone was following everyone else, and they all ended up at our hut in the Wood. I explained to Roger that your father had come to take you back to Eden to face his justice for marrying me and Roger offered to accompany me to Eden to see if he could convince your father not to punish you.”
“The man has no right tae punish ye,” Roger said, astride his horse several feet away. He had heard Gaithlin’s explanation and was determined to speak up. “Ye married tae secure peace. If yer father canna understand, then I’ve come tae convince him. An arrogant lot, the St. Johns. ’Tis time they listened tae a more reasonable man and end this madness.”
Christian had no idea who the big, blond Scotsman was but he suspected. “Laird Douglas, I presume?”
Roger nodded slowly. “And ye must be th’ Demon.”
“I am Christian St. John.”
“Remember this day that I stood fer ye, Demon.”
“I will. Thank you for bringing my wife to me. If you ever have need of me, I will respond.”
That seemed to satisfy Roger a great deal, finally re-establishing ties that had been long dead. Even if Jean St. John would not acknowledge his Scot kin, Christian would and by reputation alone he was a far better man than his father.
“Where is your father, Christian?” Gaithlin asked softly, peering at the stone edifice of Eden. She’d never been this close to it before and was inherently intimidated. “Why are you not in chains? Quinton said he was going to punish you for marrying me.”
Christian gazed into her eyes, touching that beautiful face as he did so. He wasn’t quite sure how to tell her everything that had happened but he had to; most especially, he had to tell Quinton. In fact, there was a good deal to discuss. His mind was overwhelmed with the possibilities, both present and future. But gazing at the woman before him and the party of knights and Scots that had come with her, all of them willing to fight for him and for her, he felt in distinctly good company. It was time for a change.
“Let us all go inside to discuss this,” he said to her, then looked to Quinton. “As for you, I need a few moments of your time privately. Accompany me at this time and the
others will follow.”
With that, he kissed his wife and asked for a moment with his brother alone. Gaithlin hung back as Christian and Quinton began walking towards the great gatehouse of Eden, speaking in hushed tones. They were about a dozen feet away when Gaithlin and the others moved to follow. She could see her husband speaking to Quinton in hushed tones and she could clearly see when Quinton’s face went pale with shock. Something terrible had happened; she could see it in Quinton’s expression. But Christian was safe and whole, and that was all she truly cared about. Whatever the terrible thing was, they would all face it together.
“I wonder what your husband is speaking to his brother about?” Alicia’s soft voice filled Gaithlin’s ears.
She looked over her left shoulder to see Alicia riding up beside her aboard her shaggy brown steed. Malcolm was seated behind the woman, his skinny arms wrapped around her waist. On the trip south, Malcolm and Alicia had become fast friends and Gaithlin thought it was good for her mother to be distracted from Eldon’s death. Once Gaithlin explained her relationship to Malcolm and how the boy was to become her adopted son, Alicia took to the lad right away. She seemed to be smiling a good deal, anyway.
“I am not sure,” Gaithlin replied to her mother’s query. “Whatever it is, Quinton appears shocked, wouldn’t you say?”
Alicia nodded faintly, her eyes on the pair of knights up ahead. “Do you think he is telling him of Alex’s death?”
Gaithlin shrugged. “It is hard to say,” she said. “I am not sure any of that matters any longer. I am certain that Jean was shocked, however. What a blow it must have been to the man’s ego to know he had been fighting a woman for the past ten years.”
Alicia was certain that was the truth. It made her far more wary to enter the grounds of Eden, knowing she would be facing a shamed adversary. Then, her focus moved to the great stone fortress of Eden which was now looming larger than life in the near distance. After a moment, she shook her head.
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