Laird of the Wind (26 page)

She turned. "Show me your wild craig, then. I will give you a few days."

His heart gave a surge, but he calmly nodded. "And then I will take you wherever you please."

"A few days only," she agreed. "And only if you treat me kindly."

He turned to walk ahead. "That much I can do, I suppose. I have learned well from hawks."

"I know," she said, and followed him.

Chapter 17

"Take off your shoes," James said, raising his voice so that Isobel could hear him over the pounding din of the waterfall.

Isobel blinked up at him. "My shoes? Must we scale the cliff in bare feet?"

The crag towered over them, surging upward on the far bank of a wide stream. Isobel stood with James on the other side of the burn. A short distance away, the long, narrow waterfall plunged into the burn with considerable force. The water churned and spilled over rocks to speed past their feet.

"Take off your shoes, and your hose too," James said. He set the hawk on a branch so that he could pull off his own boots and hosen. Then he retrieved the hawk and stepped into the burn. The water rushed and swirled around his bare, muscular calves. He held out a hand to her.

"Hurry, Isobel," he said.

She scowled at him, and then sat to awkwardly pull off her hose and her low, soft boots with her left hand. She crammed them into her belt and stood, lifting the hem of her gown and tucking it under her right arm.

The water was so cold that she gasped aloud as she stepped gingerly into the rushing burn, soon knee-deep in the water.

James took her hand in a firm grip and guided her carefully over the slippery stones that littered the streambed. When they reached the opposite bank, he helped her step out, then leaped onto the bank beside her.

Isobel looked up at the soaring crag. "Have you a rope?" she asked, dreading the climb.

"Nay. Come on," he said, and led her toward the waterfall.

Frowning in doubt, she followed, picking her way barefooted over mossy rocks and tufted grass, walking carefully past a prickly clump of gorse bushes.

James led her so close to the waterfall that the spray dampened her hair and gown and slicked her hair against her brow. She wiped her sleeved arm over the moisture on her face, and kept behind him. He stepped behind the rushing foam of the fall so quickly that she blinked. Isobel peered after him.

His arm thrust out and grabbed her hand, and he pulled her through a beating rush of water to stand behind the fall.

The light there was almost totally diminished, and the sound was deafening. She saw the outline of his head and shoulders, saw the dark depth of his eyes. He sluiced water from his brow, pushed back his wet hair, and turned with a quick gesture for her to follow.

Again he disappeared, slipping into shadows with the quick grace of a wildcat. Isobel moved hesitantly into the darkness, and saw the pale shape of his hand waving her forward. He had gone into a crevice. She stepped inside. All was blackness, and the stone beneath her bare feet felt slick and cold.

Isobel put out a hand, panicking suddenly. The darkness was too complete, too much like blindness. The roar of the waterfall behind her had dulled somewhat inside the tiny space, and she called out, bumping her head on the low ceiling. "Jamie!"

Ahead of her, a dim golden light flared, highlighting a narrow passage. She stepped ahead. The floor sloped upward at a steep angle, and she placed her right hand on the uneven rock wall for balance. She ducked her head and shoulders to avoid hitting the ceiling of the tunnel.

"Jamie!" she called. The sound echoed.

"Here," he answered. The light flickered, bloomed brighter as Isobel followed the twisting tunnel.

He waited farther along in the passage, holding a thick pine splint, sparking and burning, in his hand. He had pulled on his hose and boots, and stood with his head and shoulders tucked down beneath the low ceiling of the tunnel.

"We keep a flint and torches here," he said. "Put your shoes on now. 'Tis a long walk, but far better than a climb up the cliff side."

Isobel sat, yanked on her stockings and gartered them, then pulled on her boots. She followed James as he loped up the incline. The space was long and narrow, a rounded scooping of the pinkish sandstone, as if some stone-devouring dragon had carved an entrance into a deep lair.

"Is this a secret passage into the crag?" she asked.

"I surely hope 'tis secret," he said wryly. "We've been using it for years. The tunnel seems to be as ancient as the broch, high on the cray. Wallace and I, and Patrick, discovered the cave and the tunnel years ago, when we were running from a Southron patrol and leaped into the waterfall to hide. Until that day, the only way to reach the top of the crag was to scale the side, or take a long, difficult route over the mountain."

"Who knows about this?" she asked as she followed him.

"Only those who have followed me closely," he said. "Quentin, Patrick, Geordie, Margaret, a few others. Most of those who knew are dead now." He walked on for several moments before he spoke again. "As for the rest, pray God they never tell the English."

"The rest?"

"Nearly a hundred men followed my lead at one time," he said. "Though less than twenty knew about this place." He walked on.

"Do the Southrons know that you live up here?" she asked.

"They know that the Border Hawk hides on the crag, but they do not know how I come and go from here. Now that I have shown you—" he stopped, and turned. The fire shone brightly on his face. He looked rugged, strong, and unyielding in its light.

"Give me your solemn promise to never reveal this passageway."

"I—I promise," she stammered. "Upon my heart, I promise."

"Ah, then," he said, watching her. "Will you risk your heart?" His voice was quiet but strong in the confined space.

She nodded. "I will."

His gaze did not waver. "Then I will hold you to it," he said. "Upon your heart." He turned to walk on. The torchlight poured gold over his hair and his powerful back and shoulders, slung with bow and sword.

Isobel watched him, and felt an intense yearning bloom and grow inside of her. The feeling was unlike any she had ever known, as if, in those few words spoken between them, she had made a deeper promise than he had asked of her. As if she had indeed pledged her heart, not for the sake of this secret tunnel, but for the man who hid here.

She slowed and stopped, watching his back ahead of her, with the glint of gold. The feeling was wrenching, so powerful she nearly fell to her knees. She leaned against the cold, raw-cut rock of the tunnel and placed her hand over her mouth.

The stunning, sudden memory of a vision flooded into her mind. She remembered the misty image of a church, a rain-soaked yard, and a hawthorn tree. A man stood there, cloaked and hooded like a pilgrim, a hawk on his gloved fist. He turned, and she saw his face. James. And she saw herself nearby, reaching out.

With an almost physical shock, she remembered that she had seen those images another time, months ago, the day she had seen Wallace's death. But what did they mean—the hawthorn tree, the pilgrim, the hawk? Why did she see James and herself together by that tree? She could answer none of those questions, but the image was vivid in her mind.

James turned. "What is it?" he asked.

"Naught," she answered, straightening away from the wall. "Naught." She came forward.

"You are pale as the moon," he said, coming toward her.

She shook her head. "I am fine. How much farther?"

He handed her the torch, since he had one hand occupied with the quiet, hooded hawk, and took her elbow to lead her upward. "'Tis a long, steady climb," he said. "We estimated it once to be half a league, winding through the inside of the crag."

"Was this cut by hand?" She stared at the narrow tunnel, with its low ceiling, curved floor, and rough walls, reddish rock gleaming in the torchlight. Scanning the raw, glimmering rock, the memory of her strange vision began to fade.

"Much of this was tunnelled by ancient men, I think, for there are deep, old chisel marks, but 'twas begun by the hand of God," he said. "Throughout the crag, we found numerous caves, connected by crevices large enough to be used as tunnels. 'Tis as open, in some places, as a dovecote. There are even wells and a spring inside the crag."

"So much water? How can that be, up this high?"

"The spring thaws funnel off the mountain, I suppose," he said. "I'll show you one of the springs when we get higher."

They resumed walking. The climb did not proceed steadily upward, nor was the tunnel of uniform dimension. Its narrow, snaking path turned, ascended, dipped and flattened, and the width and height changed, so that at times they had to bend down. As they went higher inside the crag, Isobel saw a few small caves off the tunnel, hardly large enough for a man to stand up inside. James passed those without comment. Farther on, she saw the opening of another larger cave.

"Do you live in these caves?" she asked.

"We have used them as hideaways," he said, "But we live on the summit." He walked past. The torch light sputtered as they turned a sharp angle in the tunnel, both of them bending their heads to avoid the low ceiling, which had dipped again.

Then the tunnel split into two arms. Isobel heard the sound of trickling water, its echo magnified by stone.

"There is a spring to the right," James said. "For now, we go this way." He turned left, and followed a steep incline, his stride long. Finally, when Isobel yearned for a rest, James turned a corner, ducked beneath an overhang, and beckoned.

She stepped forward and saw a steep flight of steps, stone slabs layered one over another, soaring upward. Above was the pale glow of daylight.

James took the steps two at a time. Isobel came slowly, holding her skirts, wary of the height and the uneven steps. Though she was long-legged, the stairs seemed cut for giants.

They emerged onto a grassy surface, bathed in gray light, the wind fresh and full. Isobel looked around, and James walked ahead, disappearing around the end of a stone wall.

A huge, curving stone wall surrounded the grassy area. Blocks and slabs, apparently cut from the same rosy sandstone that formed the core of the crag, were carefully layered without mortar and rose to a remarkable height. Isobel saw several tiny window openings, and, in the base, one rectangular door with a flat overhead lintel.

She walked around the inner yard, a circular space defined by the walls. One section of the wall had fallen, revealing the double wall construction of the circular tower. Inside, the space between the walls was divided by floors and interior cells.

James came back toward her, still holding the hawk, but without the torch. "This is a broch," he said. "An ancient fortress, abandoned ages ago, built by a people who, 'tis said, have vanished from Scotland."

"They must have been a race of giants, judging by this place," she said.

He smiled a little. "No one knows. Sometimes such towers form the foundation of later castles, but the summit of Aird Craig was too difficult to attain, and so 'twas abandoned."

"No one knew about the passageway," she said.

"'Twould seem so," he answered.

"The secret must have died with someone, to be lost like that," she said. He nodded. Overhead, the sky darkened to a pewtery sheen, and a few drops of rain touched her cheeks. James reached out and took her hand.

"This way," he said, and strode around the inner, curving base of the wall, pulling her along beside him.

James turned where the wall had collapsed into rubble, and stepped over some broken blocks. He entered the hollow core formed by the inner and outer walls, and Isobel followed.

A staircase, built of the same layered sandstone as the other stairs, rose up along the inside wall. They mounted that, and stepped out onto a gallery, where several windows cut into the interior wall overlooked the courtyard. Isobel noticed small chambers built from the space between the double walls.

James entered one of these cells, his head clearing the lintel easily. Light from the doorway filled the small, windowless room. A stone bench lined one wall, and three wooden perch stands were placed on the floor. He set Gawain on one of the perches.