Adrienne Basso (13 page)

Cringing inwardly, Fiona neither spoke nor looked at the earl while they waited, though she knew she had Gavin to thank for this opportunity to be with her son. They were a silent, rather solemn group as they mounted their horses and rode from the bailey. Once they passed through the open portcullis and cleared the castle gates, Gavin’s powerful stallion twisted his head in annoyance, eager to be let loose for a spirited gallop. But he held the horse in check, making him ride beside Fiona’s palfrey.

Spencer rode behind them.
Most likely slumped in his saddle.
But Fiona resisted the urge to turn around and check, worried if she saw his face filled with sullen misery she might just start crying.

With her mood so unsettled, she barely noted the direction they traveled, nor appreciated the beauty of the countryside. Since there were no retainers accompanying them, Fiona assumed they would not ride too far, and her assumption proved correct when Gavin reined in his horse after only thirty minutes of riding.

Gavin vaulted from the saddle. After helping her dismount, he returned to his horse, emerging with several long poles, one sporting a net hanging limply at the end of it.

“Are those fishing poles?” Fiona asked, displeased that in her distress over Spencer she hadn’t even noticed when the gear was strapped to Gavin’s horse.

“They are indeed.” With casual ease Gavin tossed the poles at Spencer, one at a time. Fiona felt a smug sense of pride when the boy caught them with ease.

“Follow me,” Gavin commanded. “I know where to catch the really big fish.”

“I’ve never been fishing,” Fiona admitted, her curiosity piqued at the notion. She turned to see Spencer’s reaction, regretting it almost immediately. The boy’s mood had not improved—if anything, he seemed even more annoyed.

Determined not to let Spencer spoil the outing, Fiona trained her eyes upon Gavin’s broad shoulders and followed him around the shore of the lake. He leapt onto a flat rock, then turned to assist her. Skirts flying, Fiona managed to scale the hard slope with only a small bit of her dignity still intact, then realized it didn’t matter. She was enjoying herself.

“Not much farther.” Gavin paused in front of a fallen tree trunk that stretched across the water from one group of rocks to another. He stepped carefully onto the natural bridge, testing its strength, then made his way across.

Not to be outdone, Fiona gathered her skirt in one hand and slowly picked her way over to the other side. A smiling Gavin was there to greet her. They turned together to wait for Spencer, but the boy stood frozen on the rock.

“Concentrate on keeping your footing and walk slowly,” Fiona advised.

“I—” Spencer hesitated, the doubt in his eyes growing.

“Can you help him?” Fiona whispered under her breath.

“Aye, I’ll help the lad. But not the way ye think.” Gavin made his way to the center of the log, then stretched out his arm. “Hand me the equipment.”

Spencer inched his way forward a few feet before passing over the rods and net. Once they were in his grasp, Gavin walked back to join Fiona. Spencer’s eyes darted nervously from the rocks to the log to the water, then back to the rocks. “If I lose my balance I’ll fall in the water.”

“Then ye’d best stay on yer feet.” Gavin cocked his head. “Can ye swim?”

Spencer swallowed hard. “No.”

“Well, that’s more of a reason not to fall in the loch. I’ve heard tell that the water’s so cold at times it will steal the breath from yer lungs the moment you sink beneath it.”

“Gavin,” Fiona hissed. “The boy is scared enough without you adding fuel to the fire.”

“Overcoming his fear will make the victory all the sweeter,” Gavin insisted. Turning back to Spencer, he said, “Yer legs might not always work the way ye want, but there’s ways to compensate fer it. Can ye think of any?”

Spencer pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he looked both ways, taking stock of the situation. Fiona’s heart sank as Spencer backed away. The boy had been resentful at coming in the first place. Now he was going to stomp away like a spoiled brat, insulting Gavin and shaming her.

It was therefore a relief when he soon returned with a very long, sturdy-looking branch in his hand. Grasping it between both hands, Spencer tentatively lowered it into the water. As he put his weight on it, the branch slipped on the murky bottom and slid out from under him.

Fiona gasped, not knowing how Spencer was able to keep his balance. Once righted, he lifted the branch from the water and flung it into the lake.

“A good idea, but unsuccessful.” Gavin crouched down on his haunches and spoke in a low, encouraging tone. “Think, Spencer. And dinnae be afraid to fail. The only way to learn anything in life is to try and fail, then continue trying until ye succeed.”

Sweat gathered at Spencer’s brow. He stood a few minutes longer, thinking, then sat on the ground, removed his boots, then strung them across his neck. Fiona soon realized this would give his feet and toes a firmer grasp on the log. Arms akimbo, he started across, his shorter leg challenging his balance with each step.

As he drew near, Fiona could see how firmly his jaw was locked, how tightly his teeth were clenched. ’Twas a miracle she didn’t hear them cracking. ’Twas a miracle also that he didn’t land in the lake. She held her breath with each step, fearful any sound would break his concentration. As he got close, Gavin extended his arm. Spencer hesitated for an instant, then grabbed it.

“Clever lad!” Gavin exclaimed. “There’s no shame in taking help when ye need it. Ye cannae hide the infirmary in yer leg. If ye do, then others will view it as a weakness. So let it stand in the open and let everyone see ye can overcome it.

“Ye’ll have to prove yerself more than others, but I believe ye’ve the courage, strength, and intelligence to conquer this affliction. If ye work hard and learn to properly wield a sword, there’s none that will be able to best ye.”

Spencer’s chest fairly puffed out with pride. He pulled on his boots, then without being asked, bent and lifted the poles. “Will you teach me how to swim?”

“I will. When the weather gets a wee warmer and we have some privacy. ’Tis a lesson best taught only among men. We swim as we were born, in nothing but nature’s clothing.”

Spencer blushed. Fiona did, too. Breaking the awkward mood, Gavin urged them to the other side of the rock. From here the sparkling water stretched nearly as far as the eye could see. Gavin told them to spread out on the flat rock, instructing Fiona to sit in the middle. When they were finally settled, Gavin explained the finer points of fishing, set the bait on their lines and cast the lines in the water.

It was impossible to miss the worshipful glow in Spencer’s gaze when he looked at Gavin. Fiona felt the moisture gathering in her eyes. Mortified, she turned away, not wanting either of them to see. After the turmoil of the last few days—well, in truth the last year—this carefree outing was a tonic.

They sat in companionable silence for nearly an hour. A gentle breeze kept the sun from becoming uncomfortably warm. Fiona removed her veil and gold circlet, reveling in the freedom. She turned her face to the sun, feeling an odd sort of renewal seeping into her bones.

A sudden rustling sound in the trees on the shoreline behind them spun Gavin around. Fiona marveled at the quickness of his body, the fluid motion he used to draw his sword. It was as though the weapon were a part of him, a mere extension of his flesh.

Alas, the precaution proved unnecessary. A most familiar hound came bounding through the underbrush, tongue lagging, tail wagging.

“I cannae believe he followed us all the way here,” Gavin marveled.

“He’s a very clever boy,” Fiona said proudly, rubbing the special spot behind the pup’s ears that never failed to delight him.

The beast sighed in ecstasy, and pushed closer, nearly knocking Fiona over. She laughed, tossing her head to one side to swing her braid over her shoulder, so the dog would not be tempted to gnaw on it, then allowed herself to be licked on the face. It truly was impossible to resist such faithful, loving devotion.

“Mother!”

Fiona, Gavin, and the dog all turned at the sound of Spencer’s frightened cry. But it was Gavin who quickly ascertained what was upsetting the boy.

“No cause fer alarm,” he called out. “This great beast is yer mother’s new friend.”

“I thought it might be a wolf,” Spencer admitted sheepishly, and they all laughed.

“He’s an odd-looking fellow, isn’t he?” Fiona said, rubbing the dog’s muzzle. “I think I shall call him Laddie, in recognition of his Scottish heritage.”

Curious, Laddie abandoned Fiona and trotted over to greet Spencer. After receiving an acceptable response, the dog lumbered to the edge of the rock, dipped his head and began lapping noisily.

“He’s scaring the fish away,” Spencer complained.

“Don’t whine,” Fiona admonished. “’Tis unbecoming and unmanly. He’ll stop once he’s drunk his fill.”

Her words proved true, however a moment later the beast sighted something that prompted a round of excited barks. Spencer said nothing further—his look of annoyance was enough to convey his feelings.

“Fine, I’ll take him for a walk on the other side of the lake so you can fish in peace and quiet,” Fiona said.

“I’ll come with ye,” Gavin volunteered, springing to his feet.

“But Spencer—”

“Will be fine.”

Spencer nodded. Still, Fiona hesitated.

“We’ll stay close to the shoreline, so ye can keep the lad within yer sights at all times,” Gavin offered.

Fiona nodded, satisfied with the compromise. Yet she took her time making certain that Spencer had everything he required within easy reach before moving.

They made a slow circuit on the shoreline of the lake, the dog running happily ahead. Every now and again Gavin would pick up a stick and toss it into the underbrush for the beast to eagerly chase.

“Well, he seems to understand one part of the game,” Fiona remarked, when the dog returned with the stick, yet refused to yield it.

“Are ye enjoying yerself?” Gavin asked, as he picked up another stick and hurled it over the treetops.

“Yes. Thank you.” The thought flew in her head and the words swiftly followed, before she had time to think. “Why did you arrange this outing today? Why are you being so kind?”

“Ye don’t know?”

She shook her head.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want to please ye, to make ye happy.” He reached up and drew his palm gently across her cheek. “I’m trying to woo ye, lass.”

He’s jesting.
Yet the deep timbre of his voice called to her. To the lonely, forgotten place in her heart. But it wasn’t only her heart. Her body had a weakness for Gavin, and a part of her worried what would happen if she didn’t try harder to quell it—or at least control it.

Despite her best efforts, Fiona felt herself being pulled in by the curious emotions she saw reflected in his eyes. Desire, excitement, but most astonishing of all—possibility.

The possibility of finding someone to care for her. To protect her. To love her. Such foolish, dangerous thoughts.

Gavin reached down and grasped her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. His touch sent tiny sparks through her. The sensible part of Fiona’s brain urged her to lower her gaze and conceal her true feelings, but there was simply too much delight coursing through her to comply. What did it matter if he knew the truth? She found him attractive, exciting, desirable. Was it so wrong to let him know?

His wicked grin let her know he was aware of the effect he was having on her. Well, two could play at that game. With an innocent smile, Fiona ran her palms down the hard contours of his arms. The tight muscles flexed beneath her sensual touch.

She leaned closer, until their chests were touching, then raised her chin and slowly outlined his lips with the tip of her tongue. He trembled against her. The power of their passion awed her, almost frightening in its intensity.

“Spencer?” she asked breathlessly.

“Is safe. He’s in my direct sights. Damn, he’s just caught a fish!”

Fiona sighed heavily. “Well, if you can see him, then he can see us.”

Gavin groaned. Fiona stepped back. It seemed as though every muscle in his body flexed with restraint, yet he impressively remained in control.

“Until tonight,” he said gruffly.

Fiona nodded, the sensual promise in his eyes making her shiver.

 

 

Perched behind a boulder on the ridge above, Ewan watched the scene below with restless interest. There were easily a dozen things he could name that were far more enjoyable than sitting on a rock for hours with a line thrown into the loch, waiting for some hapless fish to bite. Merely observing the earl and his companions had at times bored Ewan senseless.

Thankfully, there were a few distractions. The lad successfully conquering the fallen log had brought a shout of joy and a smile so wide from the woman he could see it from this great distance. She was a bonnie thing and Ewan had recognized her and the lad without difficulty. It was not a common sight to have an English lady on McLendon land, and he wondered if any of the soldiers that had accompanied her were still at the castle.

The sudden appearance of a mangy dog had also caused a commotion. Ewan had taken note of how quickly the earl reached for his sword when the beast charged from the brush, how swiftly he was ready to attack and defend. Even without a contingent of guards around him, the earl would not be easily caught unawares.

He had spoken the truth to his mother when he said he would not kill the earl. But he also meant it when he declared he would cause him a considerable amount of trouble.

All men were mortal. All men had weaknesses. What was the earl’s? Could this English woman be the key?

Ewan had heard tell of besotted men. Perfectly normal lads who lost control of their thoughts—and sometimes their tongues—at the sight of a bonnie woman. He would never have believed the earl to be one of those men, but observing the scene below had raised the possibility.