Warrior's Last Gift (2 page)

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“If I’m to help you, Jeanne, first you’ll have to help me understand why this is important enough for you to risk your life over.”

The lady of Castle MacGahan reached out to cover Jeanne’s hand with her own.

“I owe this to Eymer. He stepped in for me when I needed someone to be there. I canna fail him in the only thing he ever asked of me.”

Danielle squeezed her hand. “I know you loved your husband, Jeanne. Believe me, I would do anything in my power to change what happened to Eymer. But going off on some quest to the sea, especially this time of year, just because you promised him you would, hardly seems a rational thing to do. I can see why Captain MacNicol refused you. I’m sure Malcolm will, too—unless you can give me some good reason.”

Jeanne had never intended to share her secrets with another living soul. She’d sworn as much on her honor.

But honor wasn’t going to get her what she needed. Her only hope was plain and simple honesty.

“I dinna love Eymer in the way you think. No as a husband, at any rate. Eymer wed me to save me the shame I’d bear when people learned I was with child. He offered himself as husband and father when the babe’s real father refused.”

Lady Dani’s eyes narrowed as she leaned closer. “You mean to tell me there’s some selfish bastard waltzing around this castle who got you pregnant and then refused to marry you when he found out about it? That just makes my blood boil.”

“Oh no, it’s no at all like that. Eri—” Jeanne caught herself and started again. “The real father never knew I carried his child. I refused to tell him. He is a good and loyal man.”

“But you said . . .” Lady Dani’s words trailed off, her expression clearly confused.

“I said he refused to marry
me
. If he dinna want a life with me, I’d no wish to complicate the issue with a child. I was such a child, and the resentment that filled my home was not what I wanted for a babe of my own. Eymer agreed. Eventually.”

Though he had nagged her about it for months before . . . before it was no longer an issue. Looking away from her companion, Jeanne willed herself not to delve into those still-raw memories.

“So, if I’m hearing you correctly, Eymer wanted the real father to know the truth. Didn’t he think that would be a problem down the line when the two of you had children of your own?”

Jeanne took a deep breath, readying herself to reveal yet another secret she’d thought never to share.

“Eymer and I would never have children of our own. From the beginning, he had confided that he was not interested in the charms I had to offer. In truth, he had no interest in the charms any woman had to offer.”

Though she had been slow to believe him on that count. Out of a sense of duty as the man’s wife, she had tried. But Eymer’s honesty had matched his kindness. Women did not appeal to him and soon she had realized the truth in his claim that her child would be his only chance at keeping the Horvesson name alive.

“Well then. Where is this child now?”

The unexpected question pierced Jeanne’s heart like an arrow, drawing tears she couldn’t hide. “The babe was born too early. He dinna survive.”

“Oh, Jeanne.” Lady Dani’s eyes filled with tears as she leaned close to clasp her arms around Jeanne. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“Few did, my lady.” It had been best that way.

They held the embrace for several minutes before Lady Dani sat back in her seat and cast a watery smile at Jeanne as she wiped her hands down her cheeks.

“Very well,” she murmured. “You said that in his last request, Eymer specifically insisted that Captain MacNicol accompany you to send him off to his afterlife?”

Jeanne nodded. In spite of all her protests, in spite of her arguments that fulfilling such a vow with Eric MacNicol at her side would be sheer hell for her, Eymer would not be swayed on that point.

Lady Dani asked, “Did you love that man, the father of your child?”

“With all my heart.”

“And Eymer knew how you felt about that man?”

“Aye. But I made it clear that part of my life was behind me.”

“I see.” Lady Dani nodded once more. “Would I be correct in guessing that Eric MacNicol is the man we’re talking about?”

Jeanne swept her gaze to the floor, hoping the flush heating her cheeks wouldn’t give her away.

“It’s all right, Jeanne. You don’t have to answer that.”

“Will you help me?” Lady Danielle was her last hope.

“Yes. I’ll make sure Malcolm sees the importance of your keeping your oath to Eymer.”

“Oh, thank you, Lady Dani. I can never repay this gift.”

Lady Danielle smiled, putting her arm around Jeanne’s shoulders to give her a hug as they strolled out the door of her solar and into the hall.

“There’s nothing to repay, my friend. In fact, I’d suggest it’s not me that’s giving you a gift, but Eymer.”

Eymer? His gift had been giving up his freedom to marry her and be father to her child. This time she would be forced to spend with Eric MacNicol was no gift. It was a punishment for all her sins.

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Eric stretched his back and glanced over his shoulder. If anyone had asked him this time yesterday where’d he be right now, he would have sworn he’d be tucked in his bed, recovering from his recent travels. He certainly wouldn’t have guessed he’d be a full day’s journey away from Castle MacGahan, headed toward the sea with Jeanne in tow.

And yet here he was, tasked with the responsibility of keeping safe the woman he’d never intended to even speak to again.

“Are you ready for a rest?”

Jeanne shook her head, surprising him once again. He’d pushed her hard from the moment they’d passed through the castle gates, giving her no consideration or leeway. Intentionally, their pace had been more difficult than what he would have set for his most seasoned warriors. His hope had been that she’d give up before the sun set on their first day.

She hadn’t. And though her face was drawn with weariness, she continued on even now.

Perhaps he’d underestimated her determination.

He shrugged and turned his back on her, pressing forward.

It wasn’t his place to question her decision. No more than it had been his place to question Malcolm when his laird had knocked on his door late last night with orders to act as Jeanne’s guardian on her journey to fulfill her husband’s last wish. Eric was sure that Jeanne’s visit to Lady Danielle was behind the laird’s change of heart.

The trees in front of him faded into one another, much less real to him than his last vision of the woman behind him, struggling to sit up straight in her saddle. She clearly needed rest, whether or not she’d admit to it.

Still, it was she who’d refused his offer, plain and simple. She’d wanted this and now she had it. Her fault and none of his own. Nothing more than what a woman such as she deserved. She’d gotten what she’d asked for.

No matter how he attempted to justify his actions, guilt ate away at his peace like a rat loosed in the grain stores. He wanted to force her into turning back, not kill her.

“Bollocks,” he muttered under his breath, pulling his horse to a halt and turning in his saddle to observe her.

She’d dropped even farther behind than she’d been a few minutes earlier.

“Yer animal looks to be worn down from our day’s travel, even if yer no. If we cut back through the trees here, we’re close to a spot that will serve us well this night.” He’d camped there often enough with his men to know.

“If you think it best,” she responded, her voice barely loud enough to cover the distance between them. “But I’d no have us wasting away our daylight on my account.”

“There’s no much light left. By the time we see to the horses and set a fire, the sun will have deserted us.”

He’d almost have sworn an expression of relief skittered across her face. Perhaps after a cold night under the stars she’d be more reasonable about returning to the castle. He could hope, though he was beginning to suspect he’d been wrong in his judgment of Jeanne. At least in this one thing.

•   •   •

Thank all that was holy!

Ahead of her, Eric dismounted and led his animal to the stream running alongside the small glen.

She should no doubt do the same. She would, too. Just as soon as she could get her muscles to cooperate enough to allow her to lift her leg over the saddle.

If they ever worked again, that is. Her legs trembled with exhaustion and, Lord, she hurt everywhere.

With Eric’s emotionless stare fixed upon her, she forced herself to dismount. She would not give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d been right about her inability to make this journey.

The best she could manage was to pull her leg over the horse’s rump so that she rolled to her stomach, intending to slide down the animal’s side.

It would have worked, too, had her legs not refused to hold her weight. She felt her toes touch solid earth, but her legs were as weak as bread soaked in milk, collapsing beneath her.

She braced for an impact with the ground, which never came. Instead, Eric’s strong arms fastened around her just in time.

“As I thought,” he murmured, leaning down to sweep an arm under her legs and carry her to the spot where he’d already deposited his bedroll.

Had she been able, she might have refused his help. She might have held her head high, pushing away from him. She might have insisted that he remove his hands from her at once.

Instead, she allowed herself the luxury of laying her cheek against his broad chest. It had been so long since she’d last taken shelter there.

He dropped to one knee and gently placed her on the ground. “Sit,” he ordered before rising to turn his back on her.

It had been a moment of weakness and nothing more. She would give herself that one time, considering the hardship of the day.

Eric dropped her things on the ground beside her before leading her mount to drink. Pushing herself up to her knees, she grasped onto the boulder behind her to stand. After a moment to assure herself she wouldn’t again topple over, she began, slowly, to gather bits of kindling for their fire.

“I thought I told you to sit. I have this well in hand.”

Eric stood across the open ground, his arms crossed over his chest as the last rays of sunlight glimmered through the canopy of trees to form a glow behind him.

She turned her back on him and bent to her work. She’d fallen victim to his charms before, but not this time. This time would be different. It had to be.

“I’ve no wish to be a burden to you,” she managed to croak out around the emotion thickening her throat.

“A little late for that, I’d say.”

“I beg yer pardon?” She straightened and tossed her kindling into the ring of stones Eric had already arranged. “I’ve done nothing to slow you down this day.”

“True.” He dumped the load of wood he’d gathered on top of hers. “But I’d no be wasting my time upon this journey in the first place if no for you.”

“Then go back.” Warming to the argument, she pointed in the direction she thought would carry him back to the trail. If only she could work up a really good anger, dealing with Eric would be so much easier. “Leave now. I’ve no need for you or yer bad attitude.”

He shook his head, his own anger showing through the cracks in his mask. “As if Laird Malcolm would allow such, after yer whining plea for help to his good lady.” He cast a scathing glare her direction before turning his attention back to his work on setting the fire. “What pretty words did you say to convince her you should be allowed to risk yer life just to toss a dead man’s tooth into the sea?”

How could she ever have imagined herself in love with such a thoughtless brute?

“The truth. I shared with our lady the truth of why I must keep my oath to Eymer.” The whole sordid, painful, embarrassing truth. They’d had a good cry together over it, and then Lady Danielle had promised her everything would work out just fine.

“And what might that truth be?”

“None of yer business, Captain.” Her heart pounded in her chest, the need to feign anger no longer necessary. “And as to tossing Eymer’s tooth into the sea, I expected better of you than that. After the years you claim to have spent at our laird’s home in the north, you of all people should well ken that I’ve no intention of simply tossing anything into the sea.”

Eric didn’t look up to meet her eyes, but the muscle in his jaw tightened in a way she recognized all too well.

She wasn’t the only one who was angry.

With that knowledge, her own anger fled, leaving her once again defenseless.

“Let me show you,” she offered, going to her pack and unrolling it.

She spread the clothing and blankets until she found the treasure she sought, the small wooden boat Eymer had carved, specifically to serve the purpose of being his funeral pyre.

“Here.” She held out the boat for Eric to inspect. “Eymer made it himself. Once I’ve asked Thor’s blessing as he instructed, I’ll light fire to it and set it on its course into the sea, bearing all that is left of Eymer toward the home of his ancestors.”

Eric accepted the vessel from her, holding it carefully in the cradle of his two hands. “The pillow?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Eymer bade me stitch it with our laird’s symbol upon it. It’s filled with dried herbs to aid in the burning.”

Eric handed it to her and turned back to building the fire.

“It willna work,” he said at last. “‘Tis but a bairn’s toy, too small to prevent the first wave from driving it to shore or swamping it.”

“Mayhap.” She’d worried over that eventuality herself. “But I gave Eymer my oath to see it done, and I’ve no intention of letting him down.”

•   •   •

How he’d managed to organize their provisions, feed them a meal, and get them both to their rest this night was beyond Eric. Though, as much as he needed it, sleep would be eluding him for quite some time. All he could see when he closed his eyes was the delicate linen pillow Jeanne had sewn, her careful, tiny stitches forming the MacDowylt mark so finely that they might have been drawn on by a monk’s trained hand.

The care required, the painstaking detail, the time involved, all pointed to one unmistakable conclusion.

“You loved Eymer.”

Cloaked in the dark of night, with the low glimmer of their banked fire pit their only light, Eric at last voiced the thought that had eaten at his mind for over a year.

He had loved Jeanne, but she had loved another.

The delay between his comment and her reply stretched out until he began to believe she’d not heard him. Perhaps she slept. Or perhaps it was only the layers of blankets and fur wrapped around her for warmth that prevented her from hearing.

She finally said, “Eymer was a good man. Well deserving of love.”

Unlike him? She hadn’t said those exact words, but he felt the sting as if she had. He had no doubt a declaration of love came easily to her lips. After all, she’d claimed her devotion to him only days before she’d wed Eymer.

But this was different. Eymer was gone and she had no need to impress him any longer and yet, here she was, risking her life to fulfill his final wish. That spoke of real love to him, epitomized by the little herb-filled pillow she’d so carefully stitched.

Eric rolled to his side, gazing across the fire’s embers to where Jeanne lay, an unmoving bundle of woolens and fur.

No, there would be little in the way of sleep for him this night. The strange pressure in his chest and throat would see to that.