Claire Delacroix (38 page)

“You are alive!” I managed to say, knowing that he delighted in having surprised me so thoroughly.

He grinned and released me, propping his weight upon his elbow with enviable ease. A shock of hair fell over his brow as he looked down at me, a familiar twinkle lit his eye. “Ah, but I could not die, my lady fair, not without knowing precisely who Connor MacDoughall was.”

I laughed then, laughed with a joy I had never thought to feel again, uncaring who I wakened with the sound. I fell upon Gawain, rolled him to his back and kissed him with vigor, my heart singing at his presence. He parted his lips beneath mine and I tasted him thoroughly, loving how he caught his breath, how he closed his eyes, how his tongue danced with mine.

We parted breathless, me lying atop his strength. I caressed the singed tips of his hair, ran my fingers across the bruise rising on his brow, touched my lips to the scratches upon his neck. He sighed, his hands fitting around my waist, and permitted me this exploration. There was a gash on the back of his hand, beads of dried blood lining it like jewels, but he shrugged when I touched it gently.

“It is nothing.”

“But how did you escape? There were so many besetting you.”

He winked. “The will to survive is a powerful one.”

I swatted him, not content with this easy explanation, then seized the sleeves of his chemise in sudden recollection of my fear. “I saw the roof of the chapel fall, I saw it burn. I thought, I feared…”

Gawain kissed me swiftly, silencing me, and his arms tightened around me. “Some fled when Alasdair fell, others when the chapel roof began to burn. It was then that a trio of your own men came to my aid and we routed the last of them. We fought in a band to the portal.”

“But where are they? What fate befell them?”

Gawain held my gaze. “Niall’s corpse was yet there, as was the horse Adaira brought him upon. I could not believe the beast held its ground, but it seemed overwhelmed by its fear. We rallied around it and made our way to the gates, gathering men all the way.”

“You saw them all escaped,” I said beneath my breath.

Gawain shook his head. “Not all. Too many fell at Inverfyre, that much is certain.” He took a deep breath, the memory not easy even for him. “We managed to get the portcullis open, then those of us still standing escaped Inverfyre. The gatehouse caught fire behind us, the rope burned and the iron gate fell, sealing those within forever.” He gave me a squeeze. “They were mostly MacLarens or those already dead, Evangeline.”

I shuddered and buried my face in his shoulder. “And those you escaped with?”

“They went to bury Niall, for they could not leave him without a tribute. They said they would await your return in the forest.”

“So few,” I whispered.

“There were MacLarens in the woods as well,” Gawain counseled quietly. “There may be fewer men living on either side by this night.”

I sighed and felt again the weight of my failure.

“And what is this?” he asked, touching the welt upon my neck.

I winced but did not evade his gaze. “Alasdair seized the crucifix to hold me captive. I had to abandon it to escape him.”

“It was a small price to pay for your life.”

I blinked back tears and buried my face again in his shoulder. He smelled of wood smoke, of fire and devastation, but beneath that was the alluring scent of his own flesh.

Gawain stroked the back of my neck, his lips touching my brow. “Treachery is the hardest villain to guard against, Evangeline. You cannot blame yourself for the price rendered by your father’s choices. He was the one who welcomed Fergus. He was the one who accepted Fergus’ cook and counsel.”

He cupped my chin and lifted my face so that I met his gaze. He smiled at me so gently that my heart lurched. “You tried to fulfill the expectation of your parents, and indeed you achieved far more than any could have expected. You hold yourself to a higher standard than any other would dare, Evangeline. Credit yourself with what you valiantly achieved, and do not condemn yourself that there was a more formidable force arrayed against you.”

Something awakened in me as I held his compassionate gaze, something made me yearn to couple with him more boldly than ever we had. I had always held some measure of myself back when we met abed, I had never abandoned myself fully to our lovemaking. Now it seemed to me that restraint and decorum had served me poorly, that doing as was expected of me had borne no good results.

I was yet alive. I yet had a chance to live with vigor. A boldness claimed me then, a determination to live each moment to its greatest potential.

Gawain kissed me then, his touch kindling my newfound desire. I stretched to meet his embrace boldly, twining my fingers into his hair and urging him closer. I welcomed him with an enthusiasm I had never unleashed. My heart sang as he met me touch for touch, and truly, the heat between us burned with the bright vigor of the sun. I savored every moment of our powerful coupling, and that I regretted no deed I had done.

Indeed, on that morn on the forest floor, I soundly seduced the man who was not the scoundrel he would have had me believe.

* * *

“So?” Gawain demanded when we were sated and yet entangled with each other. I felt languid and warm, and the baby stirred deep within me, awakened perhaps by our activity. My belly was rounding now, not too much but more than ever it had done, though Gawain did not seem to find it unattractive. He trailed his fingers across it, tickling me playfully when I protested.

Our garments were unlaced and there were leaves caught in his hair after our lovemaking. My hair was unfurled and probably a ruin of knots, though I did not care. The unmistakable scent of desire tinged the air as I nestled closer to him and nibbled upon his neck.

Gawain caught his breath. “What of this Connor MacDoughall?”

“I suppose if curiosity was solely what kept you alive, I should tell you,” I teased.

“I suppose it would only be fitting.” Gawain kissed the tip of my nose.

“If I tell you, will you immediately expire?”

“I shall endeavor not to do so.”

“Connor was a scoundrel of no account,” I said, smiling all the while. “A rogue and a troublemaker, a seducer of innocents and a deceptive selfish cur.”

“Ah, a man with whom I share certain common traits.” Gawain arched a brow before I could argue this. “What happened to him?”

“He was killed in a brawl in a tavern, ironically one in which he had no stake. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, as it is told, and rose to his feet with unfortunate timing.”

Gawain’s expression turned thoughtful. “It seems a hazard of this land for a man to find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“How so?”

He held my gaze steadily. “If I had not left Ravensmuir precisely when I did, you would not have been able to follow me to York.”

“And we should never have met in truth.” I braced my weight upon my elbow to stare down at him, unable to guess his mood. There seemed a coolness between us suddenly, as if he raised a barrier though I could not guess why. “Do you regret your timing?”

Gawain toyed with the leaf he pulled from my hair, avoiding my gaze. “Adaira said that Connor fathered the child of her daughter.”

I rolled my eyes, dismissive of this detail that took our conversation upon an undesirable path. “Connor sired many a child, for he was not hard upon the eyes and he could show a ready charm to a woman he desired.” I tapped a finger upon Gawain’s chest, determined to seize this chance to resolve matters between us. “I once thought that you and he were two of a kind, but you may be assured that I have learned the error of my conclusion.”

Gawain grimaced. “Perhaps you see only what you wish to see, not what truly is.”

“Perhaps I saw what you chose to show me, perhaps I now see the truth of the man behind the mask.”

Gawain looked up, his gaze cool. “Perhaps you have been deceived, as the women seduced by Connor were evidently deceived.”

I thought that he warned me away from him again but I was not inclined to accept such counsel. I shook my head with vigor, and leaned down to brush my lips across his. “Not so. I have seen the truth. I love you, Gawain Lammergeier, I love you for the man you are.”

I might have expected some sweet reply to my confession, but I was to have none. Instead of replying in kind, Gawain abruptly eased my weight from atop him. He was on his feet so swiftly that we might never have lain together, so occupied with lacing his chausses that I might not still be in his presence.

I felt soiled then, soiled like a whore dismissed after her services have been savored, and I was not amused.

I leapt to my feet in my turn and seized a handful of his chemise. I gave him a shake but he spared me only the merest glance. “Answer me!” I demanded. “I said that I love you, just as you are.”

I had never seen Gawain so agitated, this man who always showed such cool poise, but he laced his chausses with unholy haste.

“You should not,” he said, his voice hoarse.

I felt my eyes narrow. “Nonetheless I do.”

Gawain granted me a quelling glance. “Then, cease to do so.”

“What is this?”

“You are too clever a woman to make such a mistake.”

I straightened, indignant. “I make no mistake…”

“You do. If any should know the truth of it, Evangeline, it is me and I say that you err.”

“It is you who err, you who would conceal your own feelings.” I was outraged that he should hide the truth from me. “Do you think I fail to see the import of your killing Alasdair to save me?”

“Alasdair is dead by Niall’s blade,” Gawain said through gritted teeth. “And even if you doubt that Niall’s ghost drove my hand, you cannot know whether I raised my blade to save you or to save myself. I am not a man that any woman of sense should love.”

I must have looked skeptical, for Gawain shoved a hand through his hair. He stepped back toward me, his gaze steadily fixed with mine. He spoke with quiet urgency, though he kept a distance between us. “Heed this, Evangeline. My mother loved my father with all her heart and soul. Perhaps he even loved her at one time, I do not know, but it was of no import in the end.”

“You see?” I said with triumph, but Gawain shook his head.

“I do see,” he retorted. “For the truth of my father’s nature came to the fore: he left his honest trade in silks to trade in religious relics of dubious origins. He preferred the wealth and fame he found more easily with such trinkets, and did not care that he lied and stole to win it. That wealth drove him to greater and greater excess.”

“You are not your father.”

Gawain swallowed. “But I am his son. And you yourself have noted that I share traits with him.” He raised a fist between us, his gaze burning with rare intensity. “I watched him destroy her, Evangeline. I watched his sins weighed heavily upon her. I watched her try to change him, a thousand times in a thousand ways, but he was what he was, and even love could not change the truth of it.” His gaze bored into mine. “He ruined her, Evangeline, he fairly killed her. She loved him but that love brought her only torment.”

I was momentarily at a loss for words, a fact Gawain used against me.

“You are seduced by the reasoning of the heart,” he said harshly, “but as my mother learned, the heart gives unreliable counsel. Its advice in this matter will only bring you grief.”

“This is why you put no credence in marriage.”

Gawain shrugged and looked away. “She could have left him, if they had not been wedded. She could have wrought a new life for herself on some other shore, she could have even found happiness with a man who appreciated her for who she was. My mother was not an unattractive woman, nor was she bereft of charm. If anything, she loved too fully for her own good.”

I closed the distance between us. “If she loved your father truly, I doubt she would have left him, were they wedded or no.”

Gawain studied me and his features set with resolve. “Then love is a folly, if it makes a person disregard his or her own survival.”

I caught at his sleeve when he might have strode away. “And what of you? What have you done? You return to aid me time and again, regardless of the risk to yourself. You counsel me against pretty words and pledges, but your words always hold a warning that I should not rely upon you.”

“Because you should not.”

“But can you not see, Gawain? You are the sole person upon whom I can rely. You are the sole person who has never failed me.”

He looked at me then, and I saw the alarm in his eyes. “It is only a matter of time, Evangeline. I will spare myself the sight of you learning precisely the ilk of man I am.”

“I know the ilk of man you are,” I insisted. “I know that there is honor within you, though you have learned to hide it well. I know that you care for me, just as I see that you fear what might come of declaring as much.”

“You see what you desire to see,” he argued. “I am no knight come to save you from your fate, Evangeline.”

“While you ignore what you do not wish to see. This is no ending, Gawain, it is a beginning. We could wed. We could reclaim Inverfyre. You could live a life of honor…”