Shadow Music (30 page)

“Where is their father?” Gabrielle asked.

“Gone.”

She assumed that meant the man had died and didn’t ask for further explanation.

“Begging your indulgence, Laird, but about that winch…” Emmett, who had been waiting patiently in the corner, said.

“I’m coming,” Colm answered.

Liam pushed himself up from the chair and walked over to Gabrielle. Colm was heading for the stairs, but stopped cold when Liam pulled Gabrielle into his arms and hugged her.

Gabrielle was so startled she stiffened for a few seconds.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Colm demanded.

“Showing Lady Gabrielle my appreciation.”

Colm felt a rush of possessiveness. No man had the right to touch what belonged to him, not even his brother.

“Let go of her.”

Liam ignored him. He kissed Gabrielle’s forehead, leaned down close to her ear, and whispered,

“Thank you.”

Just as Colm was about to rip Liam away from Gabrielle, his brother let go and walked out of the hall.

At first, Gabrielle was taken by surprise by Liam’s sudden gesture, but as he left, she realized that showing his gratitude was actually a sweet, thoughtful thing to do. He had been quite gentle when he pulled her to him.

Colm was far from gentle when he grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her. He started to say something, then changed his mind and kissed her instead. His mouth took absolute possession in a kiss meant to melt any resistance she might have had.

Each kiss was more wonderful than the one before, but what happened after remained the same. Colm walked away without sparing her a backward glance, leaving her dazed. Gabrielle stared after him as he disappeared from view. She didn’t think she was ever going to understand him.

With the weight of a heavy burden lifted from her shoulders and most of the afternoon still ahead of her, she decided to get some fresh air and walked to the stable to give Rogue a sweet treat. Then she went in search of Faust and Lucien. She found them sitting on a knoll behind the keep, working on their arrows.

Lucien was using a rag to oil the shaft of an arrow while Faust attached the fletching to another arrow.

She sat next to Faust and helped with the feathers. The two men spoke in their native tongue, and she listened while Faust told Lucien that Colm now knew that they’d been at Finney’s Flat. After a pleasant hour had passed, Gabrielle asked the two guards if they would ride with her outside the holding. Lucien wanted to keep working, so Faust saddled two horses for them.

Gabrielle could tell Rogue was eager to run. As soon as they were past the fortress wall, she turned north, gave him his head, and let him race to the top of the first hill, then she slowed his gait as she rode beside Faust into the open countryside.

“Should we head back?” Faust asked after a few minutes passed. “The caravan with your trunks should be here soon. I wonder if the abbot remembered to send the statue of St. Biel. Father Gelroy will want to put it in front of the chapel.”

“The chapel that doesn’t exist yet,” she said. “It can stay in the storage room until one is built.”

“Maybe someday your father will send the larger statue of our saint, the one that stood in the courtyard outside your mother’s room. It was a gift from your grandfather before she left St. Biel.” A fleeting look of sadness passed over his eyes when he added, “There should be snow in the mountains of St. Biel by now.”

Gabrielle could see that the guard was becoming nostalgic and perhaps a little homesick, and she felt a pang of guilt for pulling him even farther from his homeland.

“You will return soon, I think,” she said.

He smiled. “That is what Stephen says, but you must be married before we leave…”

“And you must know that I will be safe.”

“We already have faith that your laird won’t let any harm come to you.”

“Soon then you will be complaining about the bitter cold and snow.” He nodded. “Soon.”

They rode down the hills and continued on to the ridge overlooking Finney’s Flat. Gabrielle knew the sentries wouldn’t allow her to go farther. She slowed the pace to accommodate the curve in the trail.

They rounded a hill to where the path straightened, and Gabrielle suddenly pulled hard on the reins. A procession was heading in their direction. Three narrow carts laden with trunks and bundles led by a half dozen men on horses were less than a stone’s throw away.

“Oh God,” she whispered.

Before Faust could ask what was wrong, she jerked on the reins to turn Rogue around and goaded him into a gallop.

Faust raced to keep up. When they were almost back to the holding, he called to her, “Princess, what is wrong?”

“Those men…they’re here. I cannot believe my eyes. Call the others. Hurry, Faust.” When they reached the stables, Gabrielle jumped down and handed Rogue’s reins over to a stable boy.

Had she had her wits about her, she would have ridden to the courtyard, but she ran instead. Questions raced through her head. She had to be sure. Were these the same men? And if they were, what were they doing at the MacHugh holding? This didn’t make sense.

Gabrielle had to be certain before she condemned them. Faust hadn’t recognized them because he had stayed with the horses in the forest, but the others had gone with her to the clearing at Finney’s Flat. They had seen some of the men, but not as clearly as she had. If only she could hear them speak, then she could know for certain. She would recognize their voices.

Faust called the other guards with two long piercing whistles. Stephen was instructing the young MacHugh warriors and had just notched an arrow to his bow when he heard the whistles. Without a word of explanation, he dropped the bow and arrow and ran.

Christien was just about to show a soldier how to use leverage against an opponent in hand-to-hand combat. When he heard the whistle, he tossed the young man to the ground and leaped over him on his way toward the sound.

Lucien and Faust were with Gabrielle by the time Stephen and Christien arrived. With her guards surrounding her, she told what she had seen.

Stephen agreed that she must be certain before she told the laird.

“They would be fools to come here,” Lucien said.

“That is exactly what I was thinking,” she said.

“But Princess, why would they be afraid to come here? They don’t know we saw them,” Christien pointed out.

“Did any of you see their faces clearly?” she asked.

“I didn’t see them. I stayed with the horses,” Faust said.

“I didn’t see all of them,” Stephen replied. “I remember moving behind you so you could have a clear shot with your arrow. The hoods of their capes still covered them.”

“I don’t know if I would remember what they looked like,” Lucien admitted.

“The princess saw all of them, and she will remember,” Christien said. “Trust yourself,” he told Gabrielle.

“When I hear their voices, I will be certain.”

The sound of the horses’ hooves on the drawbridge drew their attention. The caravan had arrived.

Sentries stopped them at the gate. Only the horses pulling the carts were allowed to cross, and the men riding their own mounts were ordered to leave them outside the walls and walk the rest of the way. The men on foot walked ahead of the carts and made their way up the incline toward Gabrielle and her guards. The closer they came, the faster Gabrielle’s heart raced. When they were close enough for her to see their faces clearly, fear gripped her.

Unaware that they were walking to their doom, the men laughed and talked to one another. Gabrielle heard their voices, but she already knew: they were indeed the same men.

Stephen didn’t take his eyes off them as he asked, “Princess?”

“Yes, now I’m certain,” she whispered.

The guards moved protectively closer to her.

“Faust, go and find the laird.”

“That be her?” one of the men asked.

“They told us she’s got black hair and is fair to look at,” another said. “If those men would move away from her, I could get a good look.”

“We can’t give over the trunks until we know for sure it’s her.” One man dropped his voice to a whisper. “Let’s get this over with quick. I ain’t stayin’ around to meet the laird.”

Colm had been working with the stonemasons on the winch at the side of the keep. He rounded the corner with a frayed rope in his hands just as Faust called to him.

The visitors formed a line in front of the first cart. The tallest stepped forward and with an air of importance announced, “We brung the Lady Gabrielle’s trunks. We’ll leave them if you will tell us if that woman be her.” He pointed to Gabrielle.

No one answered him.

Colm walked over to Gabrielle. “What’s this?” he asked.

His nearness gave her strength, but she couldn’t stop her hand from trembling when she touched his arm.

“I would like you to meet the men who have brought my things to me.” She took a step forward, but Stephen stopped her from taking another. “I am Lady Gabrielle.” The spokesman eyed MacHugh nervously as he said to Gabrielle, “Then these be your trunks.”

“Yes, they are.”

“We brung them from the abbey.”

Gabrielle turned to Colm. “These men will be of interest to you.” Colm looked them over. “Why is that?” he asked.

With her back to the infidels, she whispered, “They like to dig holes.”

“Y
OU’RE CERTAIN OF THIS, GABRIELLE?” COLM ASKED.

“Yes.”

Gabrielle couldn’t tell what Colm was thinking. She whispered, “Do you want me to give you their names? I remember all of them.”

He didn’t look at her when he answered, “That won’t be necessary. Go inside, Gabrielle, and stay there.”

His control amazed her. She knew rage had to be surging through his veins, but he wasn’t letting anything show.

Without being asked, Christien ran in search of Braeden, feeling the laird’s commander should know what was going on.

As Lucien and Faust were escorting her inside, Gabrielle looked back over her shoulder. Colm walked toward the condemned men. With terror-stricken eyes, they retreated and scrambled around the carts, only to find dozens of armed MacHugh warriors coming up the hill behind them.

The door closed behind her, and she climbed the steps to the great hall. She didn’t hear any sounds coming from outside—it was deadly quiet—and neither guard would allow her to look out the window.

One hour passed, then another and another. And still not a sound from outside. Despite Lucien’s and Faust’s attempts to divert her attention, Gabrielle’s apprehension grew.

As the sun was setting, Stephen came into the hall. He was alone.

“Princess, your trunks have been placed in the storage room.”

“Thank you. Tomorrow will be soon enough to go through them. Do you happen to know if Colm will be coming soon?”

“The laird has left the holding. I doubt he’ll be back tonight.”

“Milady, your supper’s on the table waiting for you,” Maurna announced.

“I thought I would wait for the laird and his brother…”

“They have both left the holding,” Stephen said.

“Just the two of them?”

“No.”

He would say nothing more.

Gabrielle learned more from Maurna than from any of her guards.

“A fair number of our clansmen went with our laird. And the strangers who brought your things went with them, too. From the looks of things, I don’t think they wanted to go, but you can’t say no to the laird, can you?”

It was apparent that Maurna didn’t know who these strangers were or what they had done, and Gabrielle wasn’t about to tell her.

She went to bed early that night, but sleep didn’t come until the early-morning hours.

Colm didn’t return to the keep for five long days and nights. And when at last he came, he didn’t make a big announcement of his arrival. Gabrielle came down the stairs one morning and there he was, standing in front of the hearth. She was so surprised to see him, she nearly tripped on the last step. She nervously smoothed her gown and adjusted the braided belt resting on her hips. Had she known he was back, she would have taken more time and care with her appearance. She would have worn her emerald green gown, not this faded blue one, and she would have bound her hair up with a pretty ribbon. She wouldn’t have let it hang down around her shoulders.

She knew she looked drab, but it was actually his fault, she decided, because he hadn’t given her any warning.

“You’re home,” she said.

Colm turned and his fierce eyes hungrily took her in. Damn, but he had missed her. He missed her smiles, her frown, her laughter, and most of all he missed kissing her.

He wasn’t much for honeyed words. “You sleep your mornings away, Gabrielle.”

“You cannot even say hello to me before you begin to criticize?”

“Are you ill?”

“She’s not sleeping at night, Laird.” Maurna made the announcement as she carried a pitcher to the table. She placed it next to four goblets, bowed to her laird, and added, “Some nights she doesn’t go upstairs until the wee hours of the morning.”

“How do you know when I go upstairs?” Gabrielle asked.

“Garrett told David, and he told Aitken, who told my man, who told me.”