Flame (21 page)

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Authors: May McGoldrick

Tags: #Romance, #Scotland, #Historical Romance, #Medieval, #Scottish Highlands, #highlander, #philippa gregory, #diana gabaldon, #gothic romance, #jane eyre, #gothic mystery, #ghost story

BOOK: Flame
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Moments before, she had been perfectly happy
in his arms. As long as they were making love or talking of
anything but the past, her spirit had been alive, enchanting,
soaring.

But as soon as he’d started asking the
questions that they both knew he must ask, she had withdrawn, the
magic of the moment broken, dragged to earth, subdued.

Gavin picked up the ewer of wine and the two
full cups from the table before heading back to the bed. She looked
toward him and met his gaze.

“There is still so much I need to learn,”
Gavin said quietly.

“Where would you like me to start? Do you
want me to tell all of the horrible details of that fire? Do you
want to hear how I escaped that hellish death when my family did
not?” Her voice was a mere whisper.

Placing the wine and the cups beside the bed,
he sat down next to her and moved beneath the blanket. Her icy feet
touched his leg, and he could feel her shiver as he wrapped his arm
around her shoulder. Sitting back against the carved headboard, he
pulled her close to his side. Immediately, she nestled her head
under his chin. It was a simple thing, this gesture of trust, but
it wrapped his heart in a satisfying warmth.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning.” He
brushed his lips against her hair. “I want to know everything.”

“You mean the first summer I came to
Ironcross Castle?”

“Nay,” he responded, shaking his head. “Why
not start even earlier. Tell me of your childhood.”

She turned her face up to his. “Are you
asking this simply to put me at ease?”

He looked down at the small smile that now
graced her lips. He bowed his head and kissed them. Her lips were
soft, supple, and they parted invitingly. But before he allowed
himself to deepen the kiss and forget everything else, he pulled
back with a deep sigh.

“Joanna, there is so much about you that I
want to know. After all, you are the only woman I have ever asked
to be my wife.”

“Your wife. You mean you still...?”

Her words trailed off, but the frown that
stole across her face, creasing her brow, told him quite clearly
that she still had not yet come to grips with his proposal of
marriage. But that was discussion for another time.

“Tell me,” he encouraged. “As a wee lass,
were you as serene and timid as you are now?”

She snorted in response. “Serene and timid?
Now those are words I do not recall ever hearing my mother or
father use to describe me.”

“Of course not! How could I forget? You were
an only child!”

“Aye. And not only that, but the last of the
MacInnes line.”

“You must have been a hellion.” He grinned.
“I can see you now, headstrong, obstinate, and contrary. Was that
it?”

Joanna nodded as she nestled her head back
onto his shoulder. “My grandsire Duncan died before I was born and
my two elder uncles, Alexander and Thomas, never showed any
interest in marrying. So, anyway, the whole family just treated me
as their own darling.”

“So in addition to being ornery by nature,
you were spoiled and pampered as well.”

“Aye, and worse,” she admitted. “My parents
knew very little of what I did. They were perhaps a bit too
consumed with one another, but they saw nothing wrong with giving
me all that I sought. Between them and my two uncles’ endless
indulgences, I am certain I would have ended up ruined forever if
it hadn’t been for my grandmother’s influence.”

“She does have an air of authority.”

“You know her?” Joanna asked with great
surprise.

“Aye, she is a grand woman. I met her before
leaving for the Highlands to claim Ironcross Castle.” Gavin ran his
hand caressingly up and down her bare arm. “She was the one who
first introduced
you
to me, my little enchantress, though
only through her wondrous descriptions.”

“Is she well?” Joanna asked softly, taking
his other hand in her own. “It must have been crushing for her to
hear of the death of my father and...the rest of us! ”

“When I left her, she seemed somewhat frail
in body, though she has a spirit--and a mind--that more than make
up for what she has lost with age.” Gavin listened for a moment to
the rain. “There was nothing that she said in my meeting with her
that led me to believe she is ready to give up hope.”

“Hope?” Joanna asked, looking up at him with
puzzlement. “Do you think she suspects someone survived?”

Gavin frowned. “I am not certain if she dared
even to wish for such a miracle. But the way she talked--the way
she convinced me to come to the Highlands--all made me believe that
she still hoped that, at the very least, justice would be meted out
to the ones responsible.”

Gavin caught the change in Joanna’s
expression. He saw her eyes shift and stare intently across the
room. Something he’d just said had struck a cord in her troubled
memory.

“Does my description of Lady MacInnes fit
what you recall of her?” he asked.

She turned quickly and nodded with a half
smile. “She always was quite determined, once she set her mind to
something. As I said before, it was her influence and constant
reproaches that set me on the right path. Did she say anything to
you, when you last met...about me, I mean? Or about this
castle?”

“I thought
I
was the one asking the
questions!”

“You are,” she said softly, reaching up and
smoothing the crease in his forehead with a gentle touch. “But
after all I have learned in these months--I keep remembering
certain things that she hinted to me in the years past. Looking
back at it all--so much seems somehow related.”

“She asked me to look for your portrait. To
speak the truth, I believe that picture was the only thing that she
ever hoped to recover from this castle.”

She sat up straight in bed and turned to him.
“Did she speak of anything else? Did she tell you about the
disasters that have plagued our family?”

Gavin watched as her fingers fluttered
nervously in his encompassing hands. “She told me of the ways that
each of her sons died, and she said that the curse of Ironcross
Castle lies not in the realm of ghosts and goblins. She spoke of
the evil that haunts the place, but she said ‘tis an evil that
comes from the human heart.”

“And she convinced you to seek the
truth.”

“Aye,” he nodded. “I have my own lands and my
own people in the Borders. I never intended Ironcross Castle to be
my home for good. The Earl of Angus gave me these lands--and I can
see that the people here need a laird now to look out for them--but
I never would have come to the Highlands had it not been for your
grandmother’s visit.”

“Are you sorry that you have come?” she asked
quietly.

He looked deeply into her blue eyes and
answered truthfully. “I am indebted to your grandmother forever.
She has introduced to me the warmth of the sun.” He brought her
hand to his lips. “She introduced me to you.”

Joanna quickly turned her face away, but not
before Gavin saw the tears that trickled down her flawless cheek.
Reluctantly, he allowed her to withdraw her hand from his grasp,
but he remained where he was, studying her beautiful profile and
waiting for her to find her words.

In fact, he found his own throat dry, an
unexpected emotion rising into his chest. His fingers ached to draw
her back into his arms.

With an effort, Gavin tore his eyes from her
and looked across the chamber at the fire. He simply could not
allow himself to feel this way. All his life he had seen death
claim those he felt the strongest ties to, and he had sworn to
himself that he would never again make that mistake. He was a
warrior chief, a laird. He had duties to others and no need for
anyone to be so close. Gavin never wanted to love or be loved
again.

But here she was, wreaking havoc on his
heart.

True, he thought, he had offered her
marriage. But the offer was based on what was right and honorable.
Of course, Gavin mused, he had never experienced a physical
attraction toward anyone that came even close to the lightning that
fired his blood each time he so much as looked at her. But, in any
case, the marriage he offered was suitable to their situations. She
could not live like a hermit beneath this keep; their marriage
would allow her to get back what was rightfully hers. After all,
Ironcross Castle should be hers, in spite of the actions of the
Lord Chancellor and the fact that Gavin now had taken possession of
it.

But turning his gaze back to Joanna, he
raised his hand to her silky skin and wiped away the glistening
track of another tear.

All true, he thought. And all a lie.

“I still remember,” she said, breaking the
silence. “After the first summer that I spent here at Ironcross, I
returned to court and to my grandmother, full of life and tales of
how much I loved the Highlands. Loved this place.” She dashed an
escaping tear from her face with the back of her hand. “But her
response was not at all what I expected. It stunned me with its
vehemence.” Joanna considered for a moment, her face reflecting the
memory. “She raged at me, and I knew it somehow had to do with my
feelings for the Highlands, but I couldn’t understand the reason.
My love for Ironcross and this country was nothing new; she herself
had lived for some years among these people. I had never before
seen her so fierce in her anger.”

“And did she stay angry long? Did she ever
explain the reasons for her behavior?”

Joanna’s brow knitted at the question. “Not
right away, but her anger quickly subsided when I drew back from
her, defending myself and this place. Then, inexplicably, my
grandmother became almost frightened. I had never seen her like
that, either. She pleaded with me. Then, finally, she began to tell
me the things that she would later tell you. About the deaths of my
grandsire and my uncles. About how their deaths looked like
accidents. But she called them murders.”

“Lady MacInnes never went so far in what she
told me, though her meaning was clear enough. But did she ever
speak to you of proof? Did she accuse anyone specifically? Was it
your grandmother who accused Mater?”

Joanna stared silently for a moment. Gavin
could plainly see the struggle that she was going through.

“Joanna, when was it first that you suspected
Mater?”

Her eyes snapped up to his, but she said
nothing.

“Talk to me, Joanna,” he pressed. “We’re in
this together.”

“This is
my
battle. Not yours.”

“Nay.” He shook his head. “Perhaps that was
so before I came up here. But, to the world, at least, I am laird
of Ironcross Castle. And now, especially after tonight, ‘tis very
much my concern.”

Her eyes flashed. “You have added no
obligation because of tonight, but...” She raised a hand to silence
his response. “You
should
be interested in this because of
the fire in this room last night. That was no accident, you know.
Someone was here. And they tried to kill you!” She looked down for
a long moment at the redness of her hands. “You’re correct. Your
life is in danger and you
do
have the right to know.”

“Fear of death has nothing to do with my
desire to learn the truth. But having you beside me--openly, alive,
and safe--that is what is driving me now.”

Her eyes were glowing when they focused on
his. The affection Gavin saw in their depths made him draw in his
breath. In the back of his mind came a pounding ache of grim
memories of death, of those who had died, of those who had loved
him.

“When was it that you first suspected Mater?”
he demanded again, his voice sounding harsh to his own ear as he
repeated the question. “From all I have heard from others, you and
she were great friends before the fire.”

“We were friends,” she answered. “At one
time, in fact, I was foolish enough to admire her. I defended
her.”

“Defended her against whom?”

“Against my grandmother.”

“Did Lady MacInnes dislike her? Did she know
Mater well?”

Joanna shook her head. “For all the years
that the MacInnes men were lairds of these lands, I believe my
grandmother spent very little time here. So I cannot imagine her
ever having the chance to spend much time at the abbey--especially
with Mater. But then, as I told you before, after that first
summer--when I returned from the Highlands--it was my talk and
praise of Mater that upset my grandmother the most.”

“And it was then that you spoke in her
behalf?”

“I did.” She nodded. “And wrongly so. I know
that now.”

“But did your grandmother give you a reason
for her feelings?”

Joanna nodded again slowly. “Aye, my
grandmother hates Mater because she is the one responsible for all
the deaths at Ironcross Castle. Is that not reason enough?”

“Aye,” he said grimly. “‘Tis reason
enough...if true. But what proof did she speak of?”

Joanna shook her head again. “She was quite
unwilling to reveal anything specific. That was why I defended
Mater so strenuously. But I was so naive,” she said bitterly,
running her hand absently over the blanket.

“Joanna, tell me what happened.” He tried to
sound encouraging. “Make me understand what you felt, what you
saw.”

“That fall, when I returned to Stirling, I
was so full of dreams. During the summer, I’d had the chance to
meet and work with Mater and with the women of the abbey. To me
they had become the most incredible people alive. They were
dedicated; they were good. I remember being so impressed by the
strength of their will, by the amazing bond between them as they
carried on in their efforts to help and protect their flock. So
here, with that admiration well set in my mind, I went back to
court and found my own grandmother calling the leader of these
people ‘the daughter of Satan himself”!” Joanna shook her head in
frustration. “But whatever I said, no matter how much I pleaded,
she simply refused to say any more.”

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