Claire Delacroix (24 page)

“Can you swim?” Gawain inquired in the tone one might use to ask whether a guest would prefer venison or pork.

“No!” I shouted, then sputtered as I sank yet again. This time, a strong hand caught me around the waist and lifted me to the surface.

“Better?” he inquired as I coughed in a most inelegant way.

“I think sometimes that you try to ensure that I am disheveled in your presence,” I accused.

Gawain laughed. “It is the only time you seem to have blood in your veins, Evangeline. When you bind your hair and lift your chin, you are like a woman wrought of ice.” He winked. “And I confess to preferring fire to ice, even if it prompts your ire.”

I could have dunked him then, but I was not so distraught that I forgot he was my sole chance of salvation. Something fell into the water beside us with a hearty splash, deluging us again. It was the trunk that we had used to barricade the door. It floated for a moment, then sank much as I had, its base so damaged that the water readily filled it.

We both looked up to see the silhouettes of our pursuers as they leaned out over the water. A mist of rain drizzled between us, disguising their features. They cast something else after us and Gawain adroitly pulled me from the way.

“Hang on this way,” he counseled as I seized him in gratitude. He guided my hands to his shoulders and I am ashamed to say that I dug my nails into his flesh when I clutched at him. “I ask only that you let me breathe, Evangeline. It will be for the better of both of us.”

With another confident wink, Gawain moved so that I was behind him, then he began to swim for the shore. He moved like an otter, his strokes so fluid and effortless, our passage so considerable that I was envious of his ability.

“I never learned to swim,” I said, feeling the need to offer an explanation. “I was not allowed.”

“Because if was feared that a fragile maiden would die of the cold in this lake?”

“I am not so fragile as that!”

“I know that, but there are those who make assumptions based upon gender alone.”

“Indeed,” I said, surprised to find our opinion of this practice in agreement. “Swimming was forbidden because it was not deemed a fitting activity for a lady.”

“While I was compelled to learn, for the opposing reason.”

“What was that?”

“When one travels often by ship, it is useful to be able to ensure one’s own survival. My father’s opinion was that men are fundamentally selfish and can not be relied upon to serve any interest beyond their own in a time of crisis.”

I could hardly argue with that. “I suspect he was right.”

“More right than I knew.”

“And what is that to mean?”

“That his edict applied also to himself.” Gawain sounded grim, then said no more. As he was saving my life, I deemed it unfitting to annoy him with unwelcome questions. I bit my tongue and held on, my relief increasing as the shore drew steadily nearer.

“It is warmer than the last time I swam in this lake,” he mused, his good humor evidently restored. “Though still not warm enough for my taste.”

“As in Sicily?”

“Indeed.” I heard the smile in Gawain’s tone. “So, you were prepared for your future as the lady wife of some barbarian by being forbidden to swim.”

I took umbrage at his mockery. “You may not believe as much but Inverfyre is a rare prize in these parts. Its site is formidable, its lineage noble and its wealth has been considerable.”

“And this despite the clime and the proliferation of ruffians in its locale and its hall. I profess myself amazed.”

“We are not so uncivilized as you would imply!”

“I remind you, my lady fair, of that dungeon known as the Hole. It is one of the most crudely effective means of slowly killing a man that I have ever seen.”

“But we are not without refinement. My mother was most concerned with bringing the charms of the king’s court to Inverfyre. She was the daughter of a lord in Burgundy.” I sighed in recollection. “By her command, I was not to run, climb trees, frolic with boys as I had for years or lift the hem of my skirts above my ankles. The celebration of my tenth birthday was a dark occasion in my recollection, for that was when all the rules changed and not in a way I appreciated.”

Gawain chuckled as we drew nearer to the shore. “Let me guess - you were to embroider?”

“There was no time for such fripperies at Inverfyre. I was to spin, for there was never enough cloth to replace the threadbare garments.”

“And yet you did not hesitate to leave Inverfyre without your drop-spindle,” he teased.

“I was hopeless with the task. My mother finally allowed that I could watch the falconer.”

“Not aid him?”

“That would have been inappropriate.” I smiled in recollection. “But Tarsuinn’s father let me feed the birds and sing to them, he even let me choose their feeding songs.”

“You were lucky to have had such companionship.”

“Indeed.” I wondered then whether Gawain had been raised alone, without friends or family other than his father, whether that accounted for his desire to remain alone.

Had he ever been loved? Though my parents had had their harsh moments and I had oft felt unappreciated due to my gender, I had known without doubt that I was loved.

I appreciated that now as I never had before.

Gawain rose to stand in the shallows, his garments dripping. He helped me to gain my footing, my hands held firmly in his, then bent and kissed me so boldly that I no longer felt the chill. “I should have guessed that you were one to win your way despite the odds. I have an unholy affection for willful, charming women.”

He laughed and I laughed with him, my heart sinking a little even as I did so. His words made it more than clear that I was but one of many, neither first nor last in his affections.

Oddly, I felt less appreciation for his honesty than I had before.

* * *

To my astonishment, Gawain’s horse was tethered in the shadows of the woods, his pack and saddle at the ready. The steed nickered as Gawain offered me dry chausses, a chemise and tabard.

“My apologies, but I tend to not carry women’s garb.”

But I was still amazed that he had been so prepared. “You knew you would leave the keep this way.”

“I guessed that matters might not proceed smoothly. Your people are somewhat inclined to take insult with theft.” He patted his saddlebag as he tied it to the saddle, his expression so satisfied that I eyed it with suspicion. I touched it once I was dressed, knowing that round shape all too well.

“The
Titulus
!” I gaped at him, finding myself matching his triumphant smile with one of my own. “But how? But when?”

He flicked a playful finger across the tip of my nose. “I was here a day earlier than any in the keep knew. I had a matter to resolve before I declared myself to you.”

“But…”

“I learned upon my last visit here that a hasty departure can be an asset.” Gawain lifted his finger and I heard the distant groan of Inverfyre’s gates opening. I met his gaze with alarm. “They saw us make the shore. I suspect the chase will not be readily abandoned.”

“Not with Dubhglas so sorely injured. Alasdair will want blood for vengeance.”

“Dubhglas.” Gawain rolled his eyes. “How could a man be expected to live a life of any merit burdened with such a name? I would have done him a favor to have killed him in truth.”

“You do not mean that!”

He laughed merrily, clearly liking that I could discern the truth of his intent.

A roar of outrage carried to our ears just then, interrupting our jest. I leapt into the saddle, anxious to be gone. Gawain swung into the saddle behind me and gave the beast his heels. It trotted, cautious of its footing along the shore and I knew it had need of encouragement.

“There!” I declared. “There is a path through the woods to the road. It is narrow but passable. Lead the beast to it.”

“I cannot discern any passage,” Gawain said, pushing the reins into my hands. “You guide the beast.”

I faltered for words, so surprised was I that he entrusted his fate to my hands. The men of my life have insisted upon leading the horses or guiding the way, even when they knew not what they did or where they went.

“Surely, you jest,” I managed to say.

“Surely not. You know the way and I do not.” Anxiety tinged his tone. “I remind you that our lives hang in the balance, Evangeline. Do you mean to make haste or not?”

I laughed and gripped the reins with delight. I am no common rider, for I was fairly raised in the saddle. All the same, no man had ever trusted his fate or his horse to me.

Until Gawain. My heart thudded.

I nudged his feet out of the stirrups and half-stood in them myself, leaning forward to speak to the beast. I used my knees as I had been taught. The horse was well-trained, taking my command with ease. It quickly discerned the path I followed and increased its pace without much encouragement from me. It was sure-footed for its short stature.

“Praise be that you have such a steed,” I said to Gawain. I cast a glance over my shoulder as we gained the road.

He smiled sunnily at me. His grip was firm upon my hips, but he seemed at ease. “I have developed a fondness for the creature’s steadfast determination.”

Determination it had, and speed as well. I cried out encouragement as the beast leapt to the dirt road, then dug my heels into its sides.

It ran like the wind, despite its double burden. I looked back to find Alasdair far behind us and laughed as I coaxed the steed to greater speed. We were escaping!

I was truly free! The wind unfurled my wet braid and ran its fingers through the length of my hair. The steed’s muscles moved beneath me with vigor, Gawain held fast to my hips and I felt more alive than I had in all my days. We would not only survive this day, but we had the
Titulus
.

For the first time in many years, I felt invincible. I knew that I could restore Inverfyre to my hand, I knew that I could clear my name and bring the truth to light. I knew that Fergus’ kin could not stop me - and I knew that I needed no man to aid my cause. I would resolve this myself and reclaim Inverfyre for my son.

Given that, I was in a mood to celebrate. I liked being with Gawain - it was his confidence in me that fed my confidence in myself. I liked his uncommon blend of ease and determination. I liked how bold and unrestrained I felt in his presence - indeed, I felt that I was myself solely in his presence. It was clear that my desire for him was returned.

But it was also clear that he was not a man who would undertake my quest to regain my family holding. He had relics to steal, maidens to ravish and pomegranates to savor in distant Sicily.

On this night, though, a widow would ravish him and give us both a memory to warm the flesh when we faced cold nights alone. I wanted to savor this last night with Gawain.

It was the least I could offer the scoundrel who had just saved my life.

* * *

It was falling dark when we spied the roofs of a village ahead. “Do you know it?” Gawain asked.

I shook my head. “We are too far from Inverfyre’s walls. This must be the Comyn’s land and one of their villages.”

“Hide your hair,” Gawain counseled. I tucked my hair into my tabard and pulled his hood over my head. “Remain silent and keep your head low.”

“None will know me here, especially in such garb as this.”

Gawain’s lips thinned. “Indulge me.” Then he gave me a squeeze. “And dismount to lead the horse, if you will. People will suspect if I tend to my squire and not the other way around.”

“I will not be your squire!”

“You will if you mean to sleep untroubled this night and ride onward.” He grinned then, enjoying my dissatisfaction too well.

I gave him a look fit to curdle milk as I did his bidding, for I suspected that he enjoyed himself overmuch. I trod before the tired beast, my head down and face hidden, and Gawain began to sing.

He feigned drunkenness with appalling ease, and the villagers spilled from their homes to look upon us. “Is this Edinburgh yet, lad?” he roared.

“No, milord,” I mumbled dutifully. My sour mood did not last long with his antics and I had to fight the urge to laugh.

“Then, where in the name of God are we?” He stood in the stirrups and waved a hand at the village. Praise be that his steed was a sensible one - or accustomed to him - for it walked onward, oblivious to his behavior. “And where shall a man find a decent cup of brew? God in heaven, will we have to spend another night outside of the king’s walls?”

“Yes, milord. I fear as much, milord.”

“You!” He pointed at a man who seemed to stand slightly forward from the assembled people. “You look to be a man of resource.” Gawain flicked a coin in the man’s direction and it flashed in the last light of the sun. “Find me an innkeeper, or failing that, a soul with a keg of ale and an empty pallet for a guest.”

The man bit the coin, his eyes widening slightly at the quality of the silver, then he bowed. “I shall host you myself, my lord, and in the same fashion as I would host the king himself, for another of these coins.”