True Love Brides 02 - The Highlander’s Curse (29 page)

“Does it always run with you?”

Garrett’s eyes narrowed as he turned back to his task. Annelise could see that he was not pleased.

“It never abandons my husband,” Annelise said when he remained silent. “It is uncommonly loyal.”

“Yet the hound is gone this morning.”

Garrett shrugged. “It is a hound that takes care of itself. If it defended us last night, it will catch up to us on this day.” He glanced at the ostler. “My wife is not accustomed to dogs of such independence, so she worries about its fate.”

“Perhaps it is part wolf in truth,” the ostler suggested. “And needs to run wild at times.”

“I cannot say,” Garrett said, his tone indicating that he would end the conversation.

The ostler did not take the hint. “Did you not choose it from a litter?”

“It chose my husband, as the story is told,” Annelise interjected, for she noted Garrett’s mood. “But its loyalty cannot be doubted. I am so glad it was here last night.”

“Does it kill like a wolf?”

Garrett visibly gritted his teeth.

“Only those who threaten my husband’s welfare,” Annelise said, fabricating a tale. If the white wolf returned to this stable, she did not want it to be injured.

Garrett gave her a hard look, which Annelise ignored.

The ostler meanwhile nodded with satisfaction. “Then it is a loyal hound indeed.” He nodded approval at Garrett, who had finished saddling Yseult and was leading her from the stall. “A good ride to you. You should make good distance in such fine weather. What is your destination?”

“We ride to Edinburgh,” Garrett said with such assurance that Annelise wondered if it were true. “I have a matter to put before the king’s courts.”

“Then Godspeed to you. Father Thomas is at prayer, or he would wish you well himself.”

“I beg you to thank him for your hospitality.” Garrett bowed, then lifted Annelise to the saddle. He swung up behind her, encouraging Yseult to a quick walk. They crossed the bailey as the ostler watched, then passed through the gates. Garrett took the road that would lead them east and followed it until they were out of sight of the monastery.

Annelise knew she did not imagine the flicker of white that appeared in the forest alongside them. It might have been a beam of sunlight, reaching its fingers through the leafy canopy overhead, but it kept pace with them.

Given Garrett’s reaction, though, she said naught about it.

Yet.

“Edinburgh?” she asked. “Truly?”

“Nay.” Garrett replied. He glanced back, confirmed that they were out of view, then turned onto a narrow footpath in the forest. “But you can see now, my lady, that I can lie as well as you when circumstance demands as much.”

“You think we will be followed.”

“I cannot imagine that we will not, and not by a dog that resembles a white wolf.” He fixed her with a look. “What is this tale you created, and why?”

“Every tale we have heard featured a white wolf, one that could change to a woman.”

“They are tales, Annelise.”

“A white wolf kept us from the road…”

“I know what a wolf can do,” he retorted, his tone hard. “And I have lost much to their appetites.” His grip tightened upon her. “I say again that I will not lose you, Annelise.”

“I do not think you will. I believe this wolf to be more than a wolf…”

“And I should let it live, just in case you are right?” Garrett shook his head. “I will not slacken my guard because you have sympathy for a wild creature that may take any advantage to rip out your throat.” His lips set grimly. “Never, Annelise. Do not ask it of me.”

“But what if you are wrong? What if the wolf is bound to your fate? Think of the knight in your tale of Broceliande? Would you err as he did and lose someone you love?”

He cast her a look that glittered with determination. “What if you are wrong, and this whimsy costs your life?” he demanded. “It will not happen while you are in my company.”

Annelise frowned as she looked ahead of them. “You did not hear the ostler’s thoughts this morning.”

Garrett pursed his lips, but did not reply. Annelise, finally, knew why.

She persisted in guessing his abilities, for he had said she might. “Or was it just that you could bear the sound of them better?”

He frowned. “I awakened this morn feeling very well, much better than I have these past months.” Annelise made to ask more questions, but Garrett dropped a finger to her lips. “There is another tale I would recount to you, but it must wait until we arrive at our destination this day. For the moment, we ride.”

“Is it far?”

“It will be a long day.” Garrett scanned the forest, his eyes narrowed. “Tell me when you see the wolf again,” he commanded, and his tone was grim.

Annelise watched all that day, but to her relief, she never caught another glimpse of the white wolf. She both wished to see it and knew that if she did see it, she might feel obliged to tell Garrett. Its absence saved her the trial of making a choice. She felt certain the wolf was there, though, just out of sight.

And though she had always feared wolves, Annelise was glad to have this one close behind them.

*

Garrett’s mind had never been so clear. He could only hope that the gift of Annelise’s touch was a lasting one. For the first time in many years, he felt optimistic about his future. There were still obstacles before them, but he had a new faith in his own future, with Annelise by his side.

One irksome detail was the white wolf. Garrett could not sense the creature, which was troubling, but he did not doubt the creature was awaiting a moment of vulnerability. He did not share Annelise’s concern for its welfare, much less her desire to see it unharmed. He had only to recall what had come of Mhairi’s trust of a wolf—and a white one at that!—to recall the price that could be paid. Wolves were untrustworthy, no matter their color, and their nature did not change. It was out of fear that men concocted tales about them. It was an understatement that he had not been pleased to learn that one had visited the stable the night before.

He wished the ostler had killed the wolf.

Triumph was too close for him to let it be snatched away. He would not let the wolf take Annelise, which meant he had to anticipate it. He hoped she did not witness what he had to do to defend her.

And what of the grey wolf with dark paws and snout? As much as Garrett disliked admitting as much, there had been something different about it, an elusiveness to its thoughts that he had noticed. He had thought it a mark of the creature’s wily nature at the time, and he would hold to that view for the moment.

He rode Yseult hard that day, knowing how much distance they had to travel. It was possible they might leave the wolf far behind, but Garrett would not rely upon outwitting such a wily creature.

One thing was certain: they would not camp in the woods on this night, not with a wolf tracking their steps. They would ride until they reached shelter, no matter how long the journey took.

It was dark when Garrett led Yseult onto a small footpath. Annelise was tired and sore from a full day of riding, but sensed Garrett’s anticipation. She looked about herself with curiosity. Where had he brought her and what tale would he tell her?

The moon had risen hours before and was close to full. They were fortunate in that, for its brilliance lit their way. The footpath was not so well trodden. Annelise guessed it had been made by people, instead of horses, and not very many people at that. The vegetation was crowding it from either side, as if the path had not been used overmuch of late.

The land had sloped downward all afternoon, and the wind had been brisk. It was cool with a tinge of salt, as invigorating as cold water. Annelise had not yet seen the sea, for the trees grew tall and dense.

A stream ran beside the path, the water leaping over rocks and stones as it ran its downward course. To her surprise, a small hut came into view beneath them. It was well disguised, its roof covered with the same vegetation as carpeted the hill. One had to look twice to see it, especially in the moonlight. Its back wall must have been built into the hill itself, and its front door would face west.

Garrett led Yseult into a fenced yard on the downhill side of the hut. Below this area, the ground dropped steeply again and was thickly cloaked in trees of all kinds. Annelise glimpsed the sparkle of the sea, and she marveled at the serenity of the place. Garrett tethered Yseult in a lean-to and lifted Annelise down.

“What is this place?” she asked when he said naught.

“Home.” He looked about himself with fondness and a bit of regret. “I grew up here.”

With that, he took a bucket from within the hut and went to the stream to fill it. He called no greeting and clearly assumed that no one would be in residence to greet him. Annelise turned in place, wondering at this, and saw a mound of freshly turned earth beyond the house.

A garden perhaps, abandoned after being turned in the spring. Why? Because Garrett had left to track the wolf? Or had he been gone longer than that?

“Will we stay here?” she asked Garrett when he returned with the brimming pail.

“For this night and perhaps tomorrow,” he said, glancing at the hills above the road. “We will see what dawn brings.” Yseult began to drink greedily even as Garrett scanned the forest yet again.

Annelise removed her pack and unbuckled the saddle. Garrett hefted off the saddle and set it on the ground, even as Annelise looked about herself. Garrett went into the hut and returned with a bucket of oats, an offering that pleased Yseult mightily.

“There is a brush in the hut,” Garrett said. “I should have brought it. I used to use it upon the goats, but it is the best choice we have. Will you get it? It will be back by the trunk.”

“Of course. You raised goats, then,” Annelise said. “That is why you knew how to tend those at Seton Manor.”

“We had at least thirty at any time.” Garrett smiled in recollection. “They could be amusing creatures, and there is naught so fine as their milk.” He took the blanket from Yseult’s back and Annelise noted the patina of perspiration on the mare’s coat.

She had to get the brush.

Annelise went into the hut, curious beyond all. It was dark and cool inside, and smelled of dried herbs. She opened the shutters on one window to admit the moonlight and surveyed the neat abode. Blackened stones on the floor indicated where a fire was often kindled, and there was a hole in the roof above the spot. A tripod stood near the stones for the fire. There were cupboards and shelves along that wall, and Annelise could discern two pots, three bowls and a pair of oil lanterns. On the opposite wall were three stools and three straw pallets, pegs on the wall for garments. It was all very tidy and clean. Against the back wall was a painted trunk that seemed to hold pride of place.

She found the brush on a shelf above the trunk, just as Garrett had said. She eyed the trunk and could not resist her curiosity. She opened it to see that something was wrapped with care on the very top. She peeked inside the wrap, only to find a garment in the process of being sewn. Even in the minimal light, Annelise could see that the green cloth was fine, so fine and with such a sheen that it could only be made of silk.

A silk garment in this place? It seemed incongruous.

Unless there was more to Garrett’s life than Annelise had guessed.

Annelise resolved to find out. She took the brush to Garrett, bringing the bundle with her. He barely spared her a glance, but commenced to brush down Yseult. “What have you found?” he asked, without much interest. It was clear that he believed he knew the contents of the hut, and also that he had no secrets from her.

Annelise smiled at him, liking his trust well, then unwrapped the silk garment. It was a silk kirtle, one fit for a noblewoman, though not yet finished. The stitches were small and the embroidery was most fine. One sleeve needed to be set in to complete the garment.

It was beautiful.

She shook it out and it shimmered in the moonlight. The intended wearer was not just a woman but of a height with her. That gave Annelise an unwelcome thought.

Had Garrett lived here with his lady wife? Or had he been promised to another? She could not help but believe that this was a garment intended for a bride.

And a noblewoman.

“What is that?” Garrett demanded. He left Yseult and came to her side, frowning as he stared at the fine cloth.

“Do you not know?”

He shook his head, so clearly mystified that Annelise was reassured. Still, she had to ask. “Did you bring it with you?”

Annelise shook her head. “It was in the trunk. Is it the bridal gown of your lady wife?”

Garrett shrugged off the suggestion. “How could Mhairi have known of you before I did?”

“A fine garment for Mhairi?” she guessed. Garrett had mentioned her name before.

Garrett smiled and shook his head. “Mhairi raised me as her own son,” he confessed. “A more stalwart and robust woman could not be found between here and London. She would need three garments such as this to make one.”

“But her seams are well made?”