Highlander's Redemption: The Sinclair Brothers Trilogy, Book Two (21 page)

The days passed
smoothly as Garrick and Jossalyn formed a new routine within the Bruce’s camp. They
each spent the days working on their own tasks, then came together in the
evenings to share a meal. More often than not, when they would retire to their
tent, a simple brush of the hand or kiss on the cheek would turn into
passionate lovemaking. When the metal frame of their small cot began to squeak
too much after a week of use, they pulled the straw mattress to the floor and
entwined their limbs, taking each other to the heights of pleasure, then
sleeping deeply in each other’s arms.

When Garrick had
returned from his private meeting with the King, he had explained his new role
as a trainer of the men to Jossalyn. He spend much of his days in a nearby glen
with rotating groups of a dozen Scottish soldiers, teaching them what he had
learned on his missions about weaknesses in English fighting styles, armor, and
weaponry.

Meanwhile,
Jossalyn began to make the rounds through the camp, seeing to its residents, doling
out herbs and roots, and introducing herself. Though she was often met with
surprised stares when she opened her mouth and spoke for the first time—her
English accent no doubt jarring in this setting—most people she encountered
were quick to welcome her, especially when she was able to help with a
persistent cough or an achy joint. A few of those she met remained reserved or
even openly suspicious of her, but she didn’t try to push them too hard into
trusting her. She would just have to let her work speak for itself.

She grew more
comfortable after the first week in the camp, not only with being surrounded
almost entirely by giant, burly warriors in kilts, but also in her role as the
camp’s healer. She wasn’t afraid to gather medicinal plants in the thinner
parts of the forest surrounding the camp, for she knew that her brother wasn’t
going to catch her at any moment and strike her for her disobedience. She was
sometimes aware of the scouts around the outskirts of the camp, but quickly
realized that they were protecting her and the others in the area, not trying
to prevent her from practicing her healing.

The only time she
felt the itch of discomfort was when she would be crouched to gather some
flower or root, or in conversation with a warrior who needed a new poultice for
a minor cut, or just wandering through the mazelike camp, and then suddenly she
would catch a glimpse of Finn watching her. He didn’t try to hide, but he kept
his distance, staring silently at her from several dozen yards away. Though his
dark eyes were unreadable, his gaze would often send a shiver through her, for
she felt his suspicion and distrust of her palpably.

When she would
catch him watching her, she would level her chin and go about her business,
though her internal impulse would be to scurry away under his sharp eye. She
didn’t mention it to Garrick; she figured that she was just being overly
sensitive, and she didn’t want to behave like a worrywart. Nevertheless, the
sight of Finn lurking nearby always sent the hairs on the back of her neck up.

On a particularly
warm late-summer day nearly two weeks after they had arrived at the camp,
Jossalyn was in need of more dandelion and decided to stroll toward the
practice field to gather some. One of the older soldiers was complaining of
gallstones, so Jossalyn had suggested a dandelion tea to ease the discomfort
and help dissolve the stones. The glen where the men often practiced and
trained with Garrick was one of the few grassy areas nearby, and she thought
she remembered seeing some of the cheery yellow flowers there.

As she approached
the field, she noticed that while a group of more than a dozen men were
practicing their aim with bows and arrows, another group of a similar size
stood waiting for their turn on the outskirts of the glen. She recognized Colin
and Angus among those standing along the edge of the field and approached.

When Colin noticed
her, he waved her over to them. “Fine day, isn’t it lass?”

The warm weather
had caused many of the men to shed their shirts and practice only in their
kilts. She blushed as she took in the sight. She wasn’t quite used to so much
male flesh on display, she supposed.

Then she caught
sight of Garrick, and suddenly she was grateful for the hot sun overhead. Like
many of the others, he had stripped to the waist, and sweat glistened off the
hard planes of his torso. Though all the men present were warriors, his
physique seemed especially honed and magnificent—at least to her eyes, she
thought with another blush.

Garrick hadn’t
noticed her standing on the outside of the glen yet, and she relished the
opportunity to watch him work. He was explaining to the group of men on the
field how English bowmen would normally make a long line and fire a round or
two of arrows to create cover for foot soldiers to move forward.

“This is
incredibly ineffective and inaccurate, though,” he said as he strolled around
the group of men. “And even when they are lucky enough to hit something, why
would we simply stand there and make their job easier for them?” The men
rumbled their agreement.

“So instead of
standing around like a bunch of scarecrows waiting to let an Englishman get
lucky—” at this the men chuckled—“we’re going to make their target smaller,
harder to spot, and harder to hit. We’ll learn how to shoot from a crouch.”

Those on the
practice field remained silent, but several of them shot skeptical glances at
one another.

“You should all be
able to hit the same target standing up—” and here Garrick snatched his bow and
an arrow off of the ground and stood, firing smoothly at a target on the far
side of the field, hitting it dead in the center “—as you can from a crouch.” He
knelt down, one knee on the ground and the other bent at ninety degrees. He
took another arrow into his bow, aimed, and let it fly. It thunked into the
center of the target, nearly overlapping with the first arrow. The men murmured
their approval.

“We will begin
practicing shooting from a crouch tomorrow at the same time,” Garrick said,
dismissing the group on the field and turning to the waiting men.

Just then he
spotted Jossalyn, and she felt warmth suffuse her whole body—and it wasn’t from
the sun. He strode over to her, his eyes locked on her and a little smile
playing around the corners of his mouth. He had shaved a few days ago, but dark
stubble already dusted his handsome face, which was made more enticing by the
quirk of his lips. She watched him approach, letting her eyes drop from his
face to his bare torso, mesmerized by the movements of the muscles.

“What brings you
to the practice field today, lass?” Then he leaned in and whispered just for
her “Couldn’t wait for the sun to go down to see me nearly naked again?”

She was sure that
none of the other men around her, including Colin and Angus standing right next
to her, had heard his suggestive tease. Nevertheless, she had to repress the
desire to gasp in shock and swat him for the comment.

“I’m only
gathering dandelions for a tea,” she said instead.

“But I have
something for you in the tent.”

This time she did
swipe his shoulder, but it only made him chuckle. “I mean it, lass. I have
something I wish to give you that I think you’ll enjoy greatly.”

The men heard that
well enough, and several of them chortled or murmured a bawdy response. Turning
to the group, Garrick said in an authoritative voice, “I’ll return in fifteen
minutes. I expect you all to have run twenty laps around the field by that time
as a warm-up to our training session.”

There was a
collective groan from the men. “Fifteen minutes sounds like an awfully long
time, Garrick. Are you sure you’ll take that long?” Colin’s ribbing remark drew
more chuckles from the men.

“Make that thirty
laps, then,” Garrick replied with a lifted eyebrow, not taking Colin’s teasing
bate. There were more lighthearted grumbles from the group, but they started
trotting around the field. He slid into his shirt, which had been tossed on the
ground nearby, then took Jossalyn’s hand and led her back into the camp.

Jossalyn shot a
wide-eyed look at Garrick as he led the way back to their tent. Catching her
stare, he smiled. “Don’t believe the filthy minds of that lot, lass,” he said. “I
merely want to give you something. A…present.”

“A present?” She
could feel a smile spreading across her face to match his. What a decadent
thing to receive a gift from her lover. She had begun to allow herself to
mentally use that word to describe Garrick, for what else was he? It felt very
wanton of her to have a lover, but she also relished the thought that she had
chosen him of her own free will, and shared her body and her passion with him
willingly. Not many women—especially ladies—had that kind of freedom.

But the word
wasn’t the perfect fit—or maybe it was just that she would like another word
even more.
Husband
.

She was completely
content with their arrangement as it was now. She was savoring her newfound
confidence and the freedom to openly practicing her healing art, and their
hungry desire for each other only seemed to grow with time—no matter how much
they sated their passionate appetites, she thought with an internal thrill. She
was coming to care for and respect him more and more, and she sensed his
growing and deepening affection as well. Then why did she want to introduce the
idea of marriage into their lives?

She knew that
Garrick had once thought himself incapable of marriage, or perhaps more
accurately, incapable of predicting the future to know if he would ever be
settled sufficiently to have a family. She also knew that he feared that she
wouldn’t accept him as he was, though her affection these last few weeks should
show him otherwise. She supposed she was greedy, but she wanted more with
him—she wanted his love, for she now realized that she loved him.

Though she had
never loved a man as a woman before, she knew with certainty that this was it. She
simply couldn’t imagine life without him. The mere sight of him simultaneously
set her at ease and sparked something inside her that made her want more of his
company. She admired his kindness and thoughtfulness toward her, his command
and confidence with the men, and his deep sense of honor. He had already given
her the one thing she had longed for her entire life—freedom. And at the same
time, her freedom would mean little to her without him in her life.

She knew she could
be content with life the way it was. She could keep working as a healer, and
they could keep enjoying each other’s company. But a small part of her—which
was admittedly growing by the day—longed to publicly proclaim to all who would
listen that they were committed to each other. Of course the future could not
be known, but she hoped to always face it with him—together.

She would never
pressure him into it, though, so she brushed the thoughts—which were become
increasingly frequent—aside as they arrived at their tent. He held back the
flap for her to enter, and he joined her in the dim interior. Sitting on the
bed was a package wrapped in canvas. She eyed him for a moment, but when he
gave her a little nod toward the package, she pulled the canvas back.

Sitting in front
of her were the finest leather boots she had ever seen. She gasped as her
fingers brushed against the leather. It was soft yet thick, perfect for moving around
in the outdoors—which was the only place she went anymore. There were ties
running up the front of them, and the looked like they would rise to mid-calf
on her.

“Try them on,
lass,” Garrick said over her shoulder.

She sat on the bed
and kicked off her tattered, threadbare house slippers, then slid one of the
boots on her foot. She sighed at the feel of the soft leather as it encased her
foot and ankle perfectly. He knelt in front of her, taking the other boot in
his hand. He lifted the hem of her skirt up to her knees, then slowly slid the
other boot onto her foot. The sensation sent little tendrils of heat up her
legs.

“How did you
manage to get these?” she said, her voice filled with awe.

“After I saw what
a sorry condition your slippers were in, I had a chat with the camp’s tanner. He
has spent the last week on these.”

She stared at him
for a moment. His gray eyes, normally hard and sharp, were gazing at her with a
mixture of anticipation and—was that worry?

“Do you like them,
lass?”

Without speaking,
she launched herself into his arms, sending them both toppling backward onto
the floor of their tent. “I love—” She stopped herself just in time. She didn’t
want to potentially spoil the moment and make him uncomfortable if he didn’t
feel the same as she did. She didn’t doubt his affection, but also didn’t want
to push him. “I love them.”

Though she thought
she had caught herself in time, he had clearly heard the declaration she had
almost made, for he rolled over so that she was lying on her back and he was
leaning over her. He pinned her with an intense gaze.

“Good, because I love
you and want you to be happy.”

She felt all the
air gust out of her in a whoosh. “W-What did you just say?”

He smiled down at
her, but took a breath that hinted at his nervousness. “I love you. I want you
to be happy. I’ll bring you a thousand pairs of boots if that’s what it takes.”

A wild giggle
escaped her. She felt like she was going to burst with joyous energy. “I love
you too. Even without the boots.”

A rumble of
laughter shook his chest. But then his face went serious, and he pulled her upright
and placed her on the edge of the cot. He remained kneeling on the floor in
front of her. He took both of her hands in his and met her eyes.