English, Elizabeth (24 page)

Alyson
did not know how to retreat from the new intimacy between them. But surely
there was no need to just yet. Plenty of time to be unpleasant later, she
decided, giving into the temptation to return his smile.

"He's
better then?"

"Aye.
For now. But very eager to be home again."

"Surely
he can't travel yet!"

"He
shouldn't," Jemmy said. "But he says if he's going to die, he wants
to do it in his own bed. I think it won't trouble him overmuch if we take it
slowly. I said I'd ride back with him—and I imagine you'll be ready to leave
here, as well."

"Aye,"
she said with relief. "How soon do we ride?"

"Will
half an hour be enough for you to make ready?"

"I'm
ready now," she answered. "My chest can be sent."

"Thank
you. Gather what you need and I'll see to the horses."

Before
the time appointed she stood beside her horse, but her relief at slipping away
without meeting the McLarans again was short-lived. Emma came to see them off,
holding Laird Kirallen's arm as he walked slowly toward the small party who had
decided to accompany him back to Ravenspur. Alyson bent over her saddlebags as
the farewells were made, but lifted her head at a touch upon her arm.

Hugh
McLaran stood before her, for all his size looking like nothing so much as an
overgrown boy. His fiery head bent, he traced one toe upon the grass and
mumbled something that she didn't hear.

"Speak
up, Hugh!" Emma scolded, driving her elbow sharply into his ribs.

"I'm
verra sorry, m'lady," he muttered. "I was hot wi' drink and sore from
my defeat at the wrestlin'—not that that's any excuse," he added quickly,
his eyes meeting hers briefly and then darting away. "I'm sore ashamed o'
what we did, and ye such a wee—"

"Sassenach
bitch?" she finished, so low that no one heard but him.

He
flushed to the roots of his red hair. "Och, now, dinna be remindin' me,"
he groaned, but his mouth twitched in a smile. "I've paid somewhat for
those words already, lady. Ye wield a mighty staff."

Alyson
smiled in return. "Then we'll call it quits."

"And
you, laddie," Hugh added to Malcolm. "I cry your pardon and hope ye
won't be holding any grudge against us."

Malcolm
gave him a stern look. " 'Tis no way to treat a kinsman, Hugh," he
said. "But I'll overlook it this once."

"There's
a lad!" Hugh said, clapping him on the back. "Sure and next time
ye'll be takin' on the lot o' us yerself, just as yer da would have done. And
as yer uncle
did,"
he cried, turning to Jemmy and holding out his
hand, which Jemmy took.

"I'm
sorry, Jemmy," he said. "For all of it."

"Farewell,
Hugh," Jemmy said. "Give my regards to the others."

"When
they're able to stand again, I will!" Hugh answered with a wink. "But
I fear that may be some time yet."

He
walked away, his laughter lingering behind him, and Jemmy helped his father to
mount. Alyson had just placed her own foot in the stirrup when she was halted
again.

"My
lady," Emma McLaran said. "A moment, please."

"Aye?"
Alyson asked coolly, taking a few steps away from her party.

Emma
bit her lip, then said quickly, "That was very prettily done, the way ye
spoke to Hugh. I'm grateful. There's been blood spilt for less than happened
yesterday."

"It
seems blood feuds are cried too easily in these parts," Alyson answered.
"God forbid I should be the cause of one."

"I
never thought ye meant half o' what ye said to me the day we met," Emma
went on quickly. "All yer talk o' forgiveness—I thought it only words—but
I see now ye spoke from yer heart. And I know that the real fault yesterday lay
wi' me. I never imagined ye would hear me," she admitted, her weathered
face reddening. "But I should have kent the open window..."

"Don't
trouble yourself about it," Alyson said, as coolly courteous as Maude
could be herself. She raised her brows and looked pointedly at the Kirallens,
who were waiting for her so they might leave.

"Oh,
but I am troubled, lady," Emma said. " 'Twas wrong—verra wrong—I
spoke out o' the bitterness o' my own heart, but that has naught to do wi' ye.
It all happened before you were even born, ye see..."

Jemmy
approached, leading Alyson's palfrey, but Emma halted Alyson with a hand and
called, "Just a moment, Jemmy, if ye please. I'll nae be long here. You
see, my lady," she said, "There was a young girl taken from us years
ago, Clare was her name. She was promised to Gawyn's brother—the youngest,
Stephen. But as we rode to her marriage feast we were attacked." She
looked Alyson in the eye and added slowly, "By your father. And Clare was
taken."

Alyson's
limbs turned to ice-cold stone. Stephen. That was the last word Mam had spoken
before she died. Many a time Alyson had puzzled over it, wondering who he might
be. All those years and Clare had never forgotten him, had called for him when
she lay hot with fever, asking Alyson again and again if he had come. "Not
yet," she'd answered, laying cool cloths on Clare's brow. "But he'll
be here soon."

"He
isna coming," Clare had whispered. "He doesna want me now."

So
this was the faithless churl who'd abandoned Clare after her capture! And he
was a Kirallen. Alyson wondered that she hadn't met him yet and knew that when
she did she would be hard put to hold her tongue. In fact, at that moment she
understood more about the desire for vengeance than she had ever wanted to
know. Remembering her mother's misery, Alyson burned to put a knife through
Stephen Kirallen's heart, though she doubted that pain would be near to that
which Clare had borne.

Emma's
hair was drawn back in a careless braid upon her neck, and as the wind
strengthened, a few wisps escaped to blow about her face. She brushed at them
impatiently, and for the first time Alyson noticed her hands. They were small
and pale with long slender fingers, hands that even age and a lifetime of work
could not make less beautiful. Alyson held her own hands out before her and
stared at them.

"I
never had word of her again," Emma said. "It was all a long time ago
but I never forgot—you see, my lady, Clare was my
daughter."

"Your
daughter?" Alyson repeated in a strangled whisper. "She was your
daughter?"

"Aye,"
Emma said.

"Oh,
Lady Emma—I didn't know—Clare was my—"

"Half
a moment, Alistair!" Emma cried impatiently as the knight came forward,
Malcolm at his side, to complain of the delay.

"The
morning draws on," Alistair said, giving Alyson a look of annoyance.
"We must be gone."

Emma
waved a hand at him and turned back to Alyson. "What were ye sayin',
lady?" she asked eagerly. "Clare was your—?"

"Not
here," Alyson said distractedly. "If we could talk alone—"

"No,
go on, Maude," Jemmy said. "This touches all of us."

You
don't know how greatly it touches us all, Alyson thought, and God help me when
you find out. She hesitated, seeing Alistair and Malcolm were watching her with
interest, waiting for her words.

"She
was—my—friend," she stammered in confusion. "Though I never—I didn't
know—or I would have said something to you before—"

"She
was
your friend?" Emma repeated. "D'ye mean she's dead?"

"Aye,"
Alyson said. "Five years ago."

Emma
drew in a sharp breath and bent her head. "Five years?" she repeated.
"All that time—we searched for so long... why didna she get word to us
somehow? Oh, lady, can ye tell me of her? Anything at all."

"Well,
I was just a child then," Alyson managed. "Let me see... she was very
learned, I remember, and had a lovely voice. She used to sing sometimes to—to
the children—"

Emma
nodded eagerly, watching her, waiting for her to continue. She was my mother,
Alyson cried silently, and I loved her so much. She never knew that you
searched for her. If only you had found her, how different everything would be!
She never forgot you, never, or stopped longing for her home. But I'm here now,
just as I promised her. Look at me, don't you know me? Can't you see?

But
there was no recognition in Emma's eyes, and at last Alyson continued
haltingly, "She was married to a sailor. He was a kind man, always
laughing and joking. He used to bring her presents from abroad."

"Bairns?"

"Aye."
Alyson could barely speak now, her throat felt as though someone had it in an
iron grip. "She did have children. A daughter and a son."

"Do
ye ken where they are?"

The
hope in Emma's face died as Alyson shook her head. "I'm so sorry," she
whispered. "I can't say."

"Ah,
if I could see them even once. Clare was my only child and verra dear to
me..." Emma touched Alyson's shoulder. "Thank you," she added,
her voice breaking, then turned and walked swiftly across the fields.

Alyson
watched her go through eyes blurred with tears. "I'll stay another day or
two," she said to Jemmy. "Then ride back with the others."

"You'll
meet again," Laird Kirallen said from atop his horse. "And I would
feel easier if ye'd come back with us."

"But
it would comfort her to speak to me—and I would like to stay a bit,
truly."

"You
did well to tell her," Jemmy added. "But 'tis enough. Later she will
want to speak more with you, but we must leave as we planned. You can't stay,
Maude. Not unless I stay, as well. Get on your horse," he ordered as she
hesitated. "We must begone."

Alyson
could think of nothing else to say, so she turned and mounted. Jemmy laid one
hand over hers on the saddle. "Was it true?" he asked, looking up at
her.

"What?"
Alyson said, her heart beating wildly in her breast.

"All
you said of her husband being such a kind man and all."

"Oh,"
Alyson said, sagging with relief as she realized what he meant. "Well—no,
it wasn't. Her husband was a— a hard man. He could be pleasant enough, but when
he drank he was different. She was—frightened of him," she added,
remembering Jacob Bowden's terrible rages.

Jemmy
squeezed her hand. "It was a kind lie," he said, then released her
and swung himself into the saddle. "And now, Alistair, if you're
finally
ready," he said, meeting his kinsman's glare with a bland smile.
"We can be on our way."

They
arrived back at Ravenspur in the strange half-light of evening. Jemmy
dismounted and took his father's arm as they walked across the cobbled yard.

When
they reached the doorway he looked back. For all that he had matched his steps
to his father's halting pace, Maude was still well behind them.

All
during the ride back she had been silent, withdrawn into a place so distant
that Jemmy had not been able to break through. He had tried every way he knew
to lighten her spirits but had failed to win a single smile.

What
had happened to the girl who had kissed him on the moor? She was gone, vanished
as completely as if she'd never been. There were names for women who treated
men as she was treating Jemmy, whipping him into a fever of desire and then
turning a cold shoulder to his advances. But he could not believe she was
playing such a game deliberately.

All
her moods were real enough, he knew. She wanted him, but something held her
back from giving herself in the way she would have to do to be his wife in
truth. He'd heard it said that gently born ladies were sometimes morbidly
fearful of the marriage bed. It was a fear that could often be cured with
patience—and with time. The one thing he didn't have.

"Good
night, Maude," he said, then yawned deliberately. "Sleep well."

A
flicker of relief passed across her pale set face. Well, then, at least he
knew. And as she herself had told him, it was a fine thing to know something for
sure. No matter how much it might hurt.

When
the Laird was settled for the night, he looked about his chamber with a
contented sigh. The maids had taken advantage of his absence; all the books had
been replaced on their freshly dusted shelves and it smelled pleasantly of
polish and fresh flowers.

"
'Tis good to be home again."

"Aye,"
Jemmy agreed, meaning it. "It is."

"In
Spain," Kirallen began hesitantly. "Do ye have a home there?"

Jemmy
sat down on the edge of the bed. "Not really. I have a place I stop
between voyages, in Cadiz. Just a set of rooms that overlooks the sea. Before,
though, when I was first there, I lived for a time in a villa. 'Twas—my wife's
family home."

"Carmela,"
Kirallen said, speaking the name that Jemmy couldn't bring himself to say.
"We were all sorry for your loss. We had masses said for her."

Jemmy
looked away. "I didn't ken that. Thank you."

"What
was she like?" Kirallen asked.