“I do notice,” she said. “And I have also noticed how you have pointed out again and again how lovely this land is. Could you possibly have a motive?” she teased.
“I want you to appreciate your surroundings, and I want you to be content here and content in your marriage as well, Gabrielle.”
She wanted to argue. Was contentment the ultimate to be wished for? Were passion and love and excitement only for dreams? Was it ever possible to have it all? She longed to pose these questions to her father, but she could not. She held her tongue. As they continued on, she made up her mind to be more practical, like her father. She was a grown woman, soon to become a wife. It was time for her to put her childish dreams away.
“I’ll try to be content,” she promised.
Their pace was slowed once again because of the rocky incline. Her father saw the look on her face and the sadness in her eyes. “Daughter,” he said in exasperation, “you are not going to a funeral. It’s your wedding. Try to be joyful.”
“I will try,” she promised.
An hour later when the caravan stopped so that the horses could rest and they could stretch their legs, her father asked Gabrielle to walk with him.
Neither said a word until they stopped to rest beneath a clump of birch trees near a flowing brook.
“I have met Laird Monroe and some of his family. He will be kind to you.”
She didn’t want to talk about her future husband, but her father seemed determined.
“Then I shall be kind to him,” she said.
The baron shook his head. “You are a willful daughter.”
She turned to face him. “Father, what is it you’re finding so difficult to tell me?”
He sighed. “Your life is going to change when you become a wife. You won’t be equal in your marriage, and you must accept this.”
“Mother was your equal, wasn’t she?”
He smiled. “That she was,” he admitted, “but she was the exception.”
“Perhaps I will be the exception, too.”
“In time perhaps you will,” he agreed. “I don’t want you to worry about your future husband. I have been assured that he will never raise a hand against you, and as you know, there are husbands who would be cruel to their wives.” There was disgust in his voice when he added that fact.
“Father, I think you’re more concerned about this marriage than I am. Do you actually wonder what I would do if my husband, or any man for that matter, were to raise a hand against me?”
Somewhat chagrined, he replied, “No, I don’t wonder. I know exactly what you would do because I saw to your training.”
Before she could interrupt, he continued, “However, there will be changes when you marry. You’ll no longer be free to do what you wish. You’ll have to take your husband’s feelings and needs into consideration. You have been self-reliant in many ways, but now you must learn restraint.”
“Are you telling me I must give up my freedom?”
He sighed. His daughter sounded appalled by the notion. “Of a sort,” he hedged.
“Of a sort?”
“And when you are married,” Baron Geoffrey continued, “you will share your husband’s bed and—” Too late he realized where he’d taken the conversation. He stopped, then coughed to cover his embarrassment. What had he been thinking to bring up this topic? Talking about the marriage bed with his daughter was impossible for him. After a moment’s consideration he decided that he would ask one of the older women to explain what would happen on her wedding night. He simply wasn’t up to the task.
“You were saying?” she prodded.
“We’re close to the abbey now,” he stammered. “Just an hour or so away I’d wager, and just as close to Finney’s Flat if we were to ride in the opposite direction.”
“It’s early in the day. There’s time before dark for us to look at the flat.”
“Have you forgotten that I must pay my respects to Laird Buchanan?” He nodded to the west. “When we reach the next rise, I’ll leave you. It will be going on darkness by the time I reach his home. You and the others will continue on to the abbey.”
“Would it be possible for my guard and me to go to the flat while the others continue on? I’m certain it won’t take us any time at all to catch up with them. I am most curious to see this dowry that King John has given me.”
He considered her request a long minute before agreeing. “As long as you take all four guards with you, and as long as you carry your bow and arrows, and as long as you are cautious to a fault. And you must promise me that you will not let the time get away from you and that it will be an uneventful ride. Then I will allow it.”
She held her smile. “Uneventful, Father?”
Seeing the sparkle in her eyes, Baron Geoffrey was suddenly feeling quite in awe of his daughter. With her black hair and her violet blue eyes, so like her mother’s, Gabrielle had grown into a beautiful and delightful young lady. His chest swelled with pride as he thought of her many accomplishments. She could read and write, speak four languages, and speak them well. Her mother had seen that Gabrielle was well-versed in the feminine pursuits, and he had seen that she was well-trained in more practical matters. She could sit her horse as well as any man, and she wasn’t squeamish with her bow and arrows. Truth be told, she was more accurate with her targets than he was.
“Uneventful, Father?” Gabrielle repeated, wondering why he was so distracted.
He shook himself out of his contemplations. “You know what I mean. Do not play the innocent with me. You’re prone to mischief.”
She protested. “I cannot imagine why you would think—”
He interrupted. “Promise me it will be an uneventful ride and that there will be no mischief. I’ll have your word on this, Daughter.”
She nodded. “I promise. There will be no mischief, and it will be an uneventful afternoon.”
Uncomfortable with showing affection, Baron Geoffrey awkwardly patted her on her shoulder and then headed back to the horses.
Gabrielle hurried to catch up. “Father, you worry too much. I’ll be careful as I have promised, so please quit your frown. Nothing’s going to happen.”
Two hours later she had to kill a man.
GABRIELLE INTERRUPTED A MURDER.
She had wanted a bit of excitement to take her mind off her worries, but she most certainly hadn’t wanted to witness anything this horrifying.
The ride began quite pleasantly, invigorating in fact. After she had dutifully kissed her father on his whiskered cheek and bid him a safe journey to the Buchanans to pay his respects, she forced herself to walk, not run, to her horse, Rogue. She even allowed the soldier Stephen to assist her into her saddle. Rogue pranced in anticipation, sensing that he would soon be allowed to soar into the wind.
Certain that Baron Geoffrey was watching, Gabrielle played the meek maiden and wouldn’t allow Rogue to break into a gallop as was the spirited horse’s custom. She forced him to start out at a much slower gait. She had the feeling that her father knew exactly what she was doing, and so she held her smile as she turned and waved to him one last time before she was out of sight.
When she was free to do as she pleased, Gabrielle loosened the grip on the reins and gently nudged Rogue. The horse lunged into a full gallop, and by the time they reached the top of the nearest hill, Gabrielle felt as though she were flying. She laughed over the sheer joy she felt at that very moment. The burdens pressing down on her began to drift away.
As usual, Stephen took the lead. Christien and Lucien flanked her sides, and Faust, the youngest, rode last, protecting her back. The four soldiers could have been brothers, so alike in appearance were they with their white-blond hair, blue eyes, and deeply tanned, weathered skin. They dressed alike as well, in a soldier’s uniform, all in black, but with a small, barely noticeable emblem of the royal house of St. Biel just above their hearts.
Their personalities were quite different, though. Perhaps because he was the oldest and t
he commander over the other three guards, Stephen was the most serious and rarely smiled. Christien spoke his mind more often and was the easiest to rile; Lucien had a wonderful sense of humor, and Faust was the quiet one.
All spoke in their native tongue. Like Gabrielle, they could understand and speak Gaelic, though they preferred not to.
Gabrielle knew how fortunate she was to have the loyalty of these four men. They had been her protectors most of her life. They had shielded her when her adventurous nature took her into precarious situations, and had kept her secrets—even from her father when she didn’t want him to find out about some of her escapades. Her safety was always their primary objective, but she valued their confidence as well. On numerous occasions they had saved her from peril, even at the risk of their own lives.
Just last month Faust came to her defense at the village market. She was making her way among the stalls when two drunken men began to follow her, their smirks divulging their lascivious intentions. The minute they moved in her direction, Faust stepped in front of her and laid the men on the ground before they knew what happened.
She also recalled an incident that occurred last year. She was heading toward her father’s stables to see the new foal that had been born. Just as she was rounding the corner of the stable, the hitch on the grain wagon at the top of the hill broke, sending the cart careening down at her with ferocious speed. She had barely turned to see it coming before Christien grabbed her shoulders and threw her out of its path, taking the impact of the wheel on his leg. His ankle was so bruised and swollen, he couldn’t walk on it for weeks.
She cringed at the thought of the trouble she had caused these steadfast men, but then she smiled thinking about some of the other times they had been there to look after her. There were the nights when she was a little girl that Stephen kept watch so that she could sneak out of her chamber and listen to the musicians in the courtyard. She also remembered the afternoon that, despite her father’s warnings, she and her friend Elizabeth climbed a willow tree by the river and fell into the muddy waters. Lucien had rushed the little girls to the cook to be washed and given clean clothes before Baron Geoffrey was ever the wiser. And she could never forget when she was nine years old and the band of ragged wanderers made camp in the meadow next to her father’s castle. She had been cautioned to stay away from them, but she indignantly felt that all visitors were guests and should be treated as such. The cook had been baking berry tarts for the evening meal, and so Gabrielle waited until they were placed in the open window to cool and then gathered them in her skirts. She was happy to see the guests gobble down the treats with great relish, and she would have lingered to visit, and might even have accepted their invitation to ride with them for a while, had she not turned to see Christien and Lucien standing ten feet behind her with their arms crossed and scowls on their faces. When her maidservant questioned the unusual stains on Gabriel’s skirt that night, the guards did not mention her disobedience, but later when they were alone with the little girl, they warned her about the harsh ways of the world.
Christien and Faust were the newest members of her guard, but Stephen and Lucien had been with her for as long as she could remember. Through all of the important, as well as the trivial, events of her life, one or more of them had been by her side. Even in her lowest moments, they were there. When her mother took a turn for the worse and Gabrielle was once again summoned to her bed, Gabriel knew in her heart that this would be her final visit. For two long, sad days, she and her father sat with the dying woman, holding her hand and stroking her brow. Many servants and physicians came and went during that time, but outside the chamber door, for every minute of those two days, all four of Gabrielle’s guards stood watch. Not one would leave his post.
As Gabrielle now rode with them toward Finney’s Flat thinking of all that they had done for her, she said a prayer of thanksgiving for these dear friends.
Stephen pulled her attention from her thoughts when he veered to the east. Gabrielle followed. After the horses had a good run, she slowed the pace. The rugged landscape surrounding her was craggy and covered with a dazzling green blanket. There were spills of bright purple heather, white chickweed, and milkwort dripping down the hills. Her father had told her that all of Scotland was lovely, but Gabrielle, looking over the vast landscape, thought the Highlands were stunning.
The higher they rode, the colder the air became. The scent of pine was thick, and the cold wind felt wonderful against her face.
They had been climbing almost two hours when they suddenly reached the tip of a plateau. Stephen had already scouted the area and explained to Gabrielle that there was really only one way to get to their destination.
“Since we’re coming from the south, the direct route would be straight ahead, but as you can see, the way is thick with trees, and it might be difficult to get our horses through. We could probably manage it, though.”
“And if we can’t manage it?” Christien asked.
“Then we’ll go another way,” Lucien answered.
“Finney’s Flat is on the other side of those trees?” she asked.
“Yes, Princess.”
She blocked the sun from her eyes with her hand and looked to the east and then the west. The line of trees seemed to extend for as far as the eye could see. The plateau was massive.
“How deep are the trees?” she asked.
“I didn’t try to go all the way through,” Stephen said. He glanced up at the sky to note the position of the sun and then said, “We have quite enough daylight to find out.”
“If the closeness of the trees is a concern, could we approach Finney’s Flat from the east or the west? Would that be quicker?” Lucien posed the question.
Christien answered. “Princess Gabrielle’s father told us that there were woods on the east side of the flats, and beyond those woods is Loch Kaenich. There are also thick woods lining the west side of Finney’s Flat, and beyond those woods live the wild Buchanans.”
“Wild Buchanans?” Lucien was curious about Christien’s description of the clan.
“That is what Baron Geoffrey calls them, and from some of the stories he’s told, I don’t think the name’s an exaggeration.”
“It’s my understanding that none of the clans allow trespassers,” Faust interjected.
Gabrielle frowned as she turned to look at the soft-spoken guard. “Faust, we’re on MacKenna land now, and no one has tried to stop us.”
“Nay, Princess,” he answered. “We aren’t on MacKenna land. ’Tis true that their holding does border Finney’s Flat on the south, but we’re on the southeast tip, and that little piece of land is controlled by Laird Monroe, your future husband. That is why we have been left alone.”
She slowly scanned the horizon. The area looked completely deserted to her. Since they had begun their long journey across the Highlands, she hadn’t seen another soul. Were the people who lived in this vast wilderness in hiding so they wouldn’t have to interact with outsiders, or were they simply few and far between?
“Stephen, what if we were to try to cut through the east and approach Finney’s Flat from the north side?” she asked.
“Princess, do you not see the mountain straight north of us?” he asked. “The Buchanan laird told your father that toward the bottom of the mountain there is a limey cliff with a wide stone overhang above Finney’s Flat…”
“Your father, the baron, told us that the path winding down from the overhang is the only way to get to the bottom, and it is heavily guarded. If you squint against the sun, you can see it,” Lucien explained.
“The mountain from the base of the trail to the land above is controlled by the clan MacHugh, and they do not suffer trespassers.” Faust made this comment.
“Suffer trespassers?” She smiled as she repeated his words.
“They are…quick to rile,” Christien said. “And quick to react.”
“We could not allow you to go there,” Stephen said.
“Laird
MacHugh is a dangerous man,” Faust said.
“Aye, we have heard the MacHugh clan is quite fierce, and their leader is a savage,” Christien told her.
She shook her head. “I would not be so quick to judge a man because someone has spoken ill of him.”
“What is your pleasure then, Princess?” Stephen asked. “How would you have us proceed?”
“We’ll walk through the forest directly ahead of us,” she said. “It is the fastest route, is it not? And it will be good for us to stretch our legs.”
Stephen bowed his head. “As you wish, Princess. I would suggest that we ride as far as we can into the woods so that our horses will be hidden from the curious who happen by. Faust, you will stay with the mounts when we are forced to walk.”
As it happened, they were able to ride a fair distance into the woods, though there were a few tight squeezes through prickly brush. Twice they had to backtrack to find another way around, but once they had crossed a narrow creek, they were able to gather speed. When they reached the last crush of trees, they dismounted. Handing over the reins of her horse to Faust, Gabrielle followed Stephen who parted the brush ahead of them.
The clearing was only a few yards away when Stephen suddenly stopped and put his arm out to block Gabrielle from going any farther. She stood beside him, straining to hear the sounds of the forest. As she waited, she silently adjusted the strap holding her pouch of arrows over her shoulder and shifted her bow to her left hand in preparation. A few seconds later she heard a harsh bellow of laughter followed by a loud blasphemy.
She stayed perfectly still. She heard men talking, but their voices were muffled and it was impossible to understand the conversation.
Raising her hand to her guards so that she would get no argument, she slowly crept forward. She was well-hidden by the trees, but when she shifted ever so slightly to the left, she had an unobstructed view of the flat land beyond. She spied seven men, all dressed in monks’ garb with their brown hoods pulled up over their heads.