Cates, Kimberly (37 page)

"That's easy enough to explain," Adam said. "We were going to charge in and snatch you from the gallows in the morning, then blast the bridge when we got you across it. Of course, Nate had to play expert, work up some intricate powder-keg bomb. I suggested we just steal a cannon and blast the bloody hell out of the thing."

Gavin gaped. "Of all the thick-skulled, idiotic, brainless schemes I've ever heard! Rachel, now do you know why I'm the brains of this outfit? I'm gone three days and they're having delusions of grandeur! Do you have any idea how tricky the timing would be, lighting off the fuse at the right time so you didn't blow yourselves to kingdom come? And you think the number of soldiers after us last night was daunting! You know how many soldiers would be after you if you sauntered in to ruin their hanging?"

"Nag, nag, nag," Adam said, flashing a grin. "See what I told you, Nate—this love nonsense is turning the Glen Lyon soft."

Rowland grinned, but his eyes revealed untold pain. "He's deserves his happiness. All of it. And, if it's in my power, I swear I'll see you back on your estates again, Gavin. My father is a man of no small influence in Parliament, and the instant this madness eases, he'll use it to gain you full pardon."

Gavin reached out, took Nathaniel's hand. "Then we won't say good-bye, Nate. You're one of the finest men I've ever known. I don't know how we would have managed to accomplish all we did without your help."

"You would have found a way."

"Watch your back," Gavin said. "If you ever need help, send word. I'll sail on the next ship to aid you."

There was a fatal recklessness in Nate's eyes Gavin recognized all too well. "I'm beyond help. You, above all, should know that." The jest fell, hollow.

Nate's arms grasped the saddle, and he hauled himself onto the horse, slipping what remained of his injured leg into a leather harness meant to help balance him. He turned to the thin man who still hung back, stoic, silent. "They'll take care of you from here. You'll be away from Scotland with the tides. Make a new life for yourself."

The youth looked away, bleak. "There's nothing left for me here. No one."

Nate nodded in stark understanding, then turned back to Gavin, raised his hand in salute.

Gavin watched him ride away into the countryside, until he disappeared.

At that instant, Gavin heard a whoop from below and realized that those on the beach had just seen them. He waved to the ecstatic crew below, the capering children, the cheering Highlanders, and the woman who stared in silent joy, her face framed by a silver-white halo of hair.

Gavin turned to the stranger. "Now, friend, if you'll join us on the ship, we can get to know you better. But you'll have to tell me your name if I'm to introduce you to the others."

"My name? It's—"

"Timothy!" The sudden shriek froze Gavin's blood. He turned to see Mama Fee racing up the narrow sheep path that wound up the cliff face, her feet flying, light as a girl's, her hair streaming back from a tear-streaked face.

"Mama?" The stranger slid off his horse, and staggered a few steps toward the old woman, staring as if she'd just dropped from the heavens. "Mama—I thought you were dead! The house—I saw the house, all the graves— I thought..."

Fiona flung herself into the arms of her son, sobbing, her hands tracing his face, smoothing his hair, as she kissed his cheek again and again.

"I knew that you would come back to me! I knew it!" She turned to Gavin, Rachel, and Adam, the three of them gaping at her.

"This is my Timothy! You found him for me!"

"No. I... Nate just..." Gavin stammered. "Good God, I can't believe this!"

"Can't believe my Timothy is alive?" Mama Fee demanded. "Who did you think I set out that plate for every meal? Did you think I was just a daft old woman?"

Gavin's cheeks burned. "I... well, we..."

"You
did
think I was daft!" Mama Fee accused. "Humoring an old woman, were you? But I knew that if my Timothy were dead, I would feel it, here." She struck her heart with her hand. She turned to Rachel, tear-bright eyes shining. "Wouldn't you know if your Gavin had died?"

Rachel stepped forward, holding out her small hand. "Welcome home, Timothy. Your mother has been waiting for you a very long time."

Mama Fee touched her boy's face, his cheeks, his hair. "Timmy, there is something I must tell you. I hope you're not horrible angry. You see, I gave the wedding gown away."

"Wedding gown?" Timothy stared blankly for a moment, then scoffed. "You mean that musty old dress you've kept stuffed in a chest all these years? You can string it from the sails if you want! I just can't believe I've found you!"

"I didn't give it away lightly," Mama Fee insisted. "It's just that Gavin and Rachel are going to get married. She's had the eye for him, you know. From the first moment she saw him. 'Tis supposed to be a love gift, the gown. That is"—Mama Fee eyed the two of them uneasily—"if you
are
getting married. Or were you just humoring a daft old woman about that as well?"

"I haven't asked her yet," Gavin said. "I didn't think I had the right. Rachel?" He turned to her, cupped her cheeks in his hands, the silken tangle of her hair soothing the cuts and bruises from the manacles and chains she'd freed him from—some of iron, some in the secret reaches of his soul. "Will you have me, Rachel de Lacey?" he asked quietly. "I've nothing to offer you but love. I don't know what the future will hold, if I'll ever be able to return to England, bring you back home—"

"The warmest homes I've ever known were a cave room and a deserted croft," Rachel said, her heart in her eyes. "My home is in your arms, Gavin. It's the only home I'll ever need."

"Damn, but that sounds like an acceptance to me!" Adam applauded, beaming. "And I thank God for it, Rachel! You're the answer to my prayers, my beloved new sister. And Christ knows, I've blasphemed so much, I scarce expected it! An angel to take this infernal madman off my hands once and for all! He's damned hard to keep out of trouble, blast him. You'll find that out for yourself soon enough. In fact, we'll hold the wedding the instant we get on the ship, before you can change your mind. I'll tell the captain right now, I will." Adam started to bolt down the path.

"There will be no wedding until I send a message to my bride," Gavin said, gazing down into Rachel's eyes.

"A message?" Adam blustered. "Tell her whatever you want right now. Spit it out. Something romantic, no doubt? God's blood, you've read enough of that love legend rot to spout something out right away."

"These aren't words to be spoken, then fade away," Gavin said, caressing Rachel's cheek. "They're words to last forever."

The ship cut through the waters with the grace of a swan, skimming before a fair wind. Sun streamed through the portal of the tiny cabin where Rachel bustled about, attempting to prepare for the wedding to come, and drenched the deck where the Glen Lyon would soon make Rachel de Lacey his wife.

The wedding gown that had passed through generations of lovers had been mended and pressed until it shone, the aged cloth the most beautiful thing Rachel had ever seen.

Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined that she would be glowing beneath motherly attention on her wedding day. As Mama Fee hustled about, settling the gown into place, brushing her hair until it shone, Rachel's heart was full beyond bearing.

The old woman had blossomed with the return of her son, drinking in Timothy's every word, delighting in his every smile, the two of them telling tales of all that had befallen them since the day Timothy had followed his brothers to war. They had mourned together, and rejoiced together, rising from the ashes of the lives they'd known to face the future with bright eyes and high hopes, an optimism Rachel had come to share.

Adam stood guard, gruff and glowering, at the doorway, as if he were half afraid she'd bolt. Even so, the children darted in, staring up at her with their wary eyes. Rachel knew she had much to learn about little ones and loving, but she had faith that Gavin could teach her.

He had already given her so much.

"There," Mama Fee said, with one last brush of her hand. "You look like an angel, you do—the loveliest bride ever to don this gown. I wonder what the boy stitched into the hem. Worked it himself, he did. Not that he could have taken so much as a stitch if I hadn't rescued his spectacles again. Rode off like a demon, forgetting them, just throwing them about, careless as can be. Do you know what verse he wrote there?"

"I promised not to look until he came for me." Rachel flushed, remembering the hot promise in Gavin's eyes, the fierce glow of pride and love.

A sharp rap on the door made Mama Fee start, and they turned to find Adam peeking in the door. "There's a damn impatient bridegroom out here waiting for you, lady," Adam said, tugging at his neckcloth.

Rachel opened the door, and Gavin stood there, resplendent in midnight blue, his frock coat edged with shimmering gold galon, his tawny hair caught back with an ebony ribbon.

"Rachel." He breathed her name, his gaze sweeping from the curls at her crown to the toe of her satin slipper peeking from beneath the hem of her skirt—a slipper torn and muddy from their flight from Furley House, the flight that had opened the door to their future.

Slowly, Gavin came to her, his silvery eyes aglow with love. He knelt, his long fingers scooping up a bit of the hem, turning it so she could read.

The stitches were awkward, long, set by Gavin's own hand, far rougher than the delicate embroidery of the other legends inscribed in the fabric. Yet as Rachel's tear-blurred eyes skimmed what he'd sewn, they burrowed into her heart. And she was certain they must be the most beautiful tribute ever captured by a lover's hand.

So many forgotten dreams I find,

When I gather the stars in your eyes.

—Gavin Carstares, Earl of Glenlyon, to Rachel de Lacey

Tears welled against Rachel's lashes, spilled down her cheeks, her heart unable to contain the love she felt for this remarkable, wise man. Gavin reached up to caress her cheek.

"Tears?" he asked softly, his throat rough with emotion.

"Tears of joy," Rachel breathed. "You taught me how to cry them."

"Do you know what you taught me, my love? After the battles, the bloodshed, I felt as if my soul had been ripped away, stolen, cast into a hell where I could never find it. But you showed me that Sir Dunstan and the others couldn't take what I would not give them; that there could still be beauty; that maybe, just maybe, with your love to give me courage, I could even find a way to forgive myself."

"I love you, Gavin." She twined her arms about his neck, her lips seeking his. "I love you so much." Gavin's mouth took hers with a hunger fierce and tender, wild and wonderful, in a kiss filled with infinite promise.

A sudden gruff sound intruded—Adam cleared his throat. "Do you think you could do that kissing rubbish after you get this wedding over with? Those blasted orphans of yours are taking apart the rigging, and the captain's threatening to throw Barna overboard and feed him to the sharks. I told him the sharks would be the ones in danger, but he wouldn't listen."

Mama Fee swept over to Adam, patting the big man's arm. "You needn't be so crotchety, my dearling. I know that you're jealous of your brother finding his lady-love, but I'm sure you'll find your own bride in time."

Adam backed away as if she'd stuck him with a needle. "Oh, no! Women expect heroes, and there'll be none of this hero drivel for me anymore. I'm done with responsibilities, duty, honor, and all that rot. The instant I strike land, I'm finding myself a keg of brandy, a box of dice, and a bed full of brainless beauties, and I'm never looking back!"

Adam fled in panic, Mama Fee trailing behind him.

Rachel reveled in the sound of Gavin's uproarious laughter, the beauty of it, so rich, so infinitely precious.

Rachel put her hand in his as he led her into the sunshine to take the vows of love that were as old as time.

The Glen Lyon had fought his last battle, won his own war. He had turned the general's daughter into a woman—a woman who could laugh, who could cry, who could love; a woman who saw a hero each time she looked upon his face.