Laird of the Wind (41 page)

"Her gift is hers, to use as she would," James said softly. "And not as others direct her."

John Seton cast him a sudden glare, and turned to look at his daughter. "Isobel, you need a proper husband to care for you. One of the guards here tells me news. I heard what is said of the Border Hawk—that he betrayed his friend, Sir William Wallace. I had great respect for Wallace."

"He did not betray Wallace," she said quietly. "He tried to help him. He is an honorable man." Her defense of him stirred deep gratitude inside James as he watched her.

"Still, he is not the husband for the prophetess of Aberlady," John Seton said.

"Mayhap no one is," she said. "Mayhap you are both wrong."

James saw that she was angered and confused, torn between her father and him. He leaned forward, wanting to comfort her, and inwardly cursed the chain that held him back. Margaret stood, hands folded, watching all of them, oddly silent.

"Tell us what you want most, Isobel," he said softly.

"Aye, what do you want?" her father barked.

She stared at each man in turn, and fisted her hands in determination at her sides. "I want both of you to be free," she said, low and fierce. "I would give whatever I have to see that done. I would give my own life to see it done!" Her chest heaved softly, and her eyes burned like blue flames.

James sat straight, awed by the beauty and ferocity he saw in her. "What then, for yourself?" he asked.

"I have long wanted protection," she said, stepping back. "And—like both of you—I thought I needed a safe place for my visions to come to me. But I have changed in the time since my father saw me last, and since I met James. Now I want something more than safekeeping. Now I know the visions will come to me, wherever I am."

"You have had visions recently?" her father asked.

She ignored him. "I want freedom, too," she said, flattening her palm on her upper chest. "I want to live where my heart will be most glad, whether 'tis in a castle or a cave. But I want to choose that for myself. And I want to decide when and for whom I will prophesy." She paused, and raised a trembling hand to cover her eyes suddenly. "Ah, but what does it matter, now? It may be too late for any of that."

"What a bonny speech, my dear lass," a voice said. "I am sure we can find a solution to suit you."

* * *

An icy chill plunged through Isobel, and she whirled around.

Ralph Leslie stood on the other side of the latticed door. He smiled at her, inserted a large iron key in the lock, and swung the door open. Two guards stood behind him.

"In fact," he said, stepping into the cell, "I have learned a great deal listening to your conversation in the few minutes since I came down here. Let us hope, Isobel"—he reached for her, but she moved away—"that is not too late for you, at least." He reached out again.

"Get away from me," she said through her teeth.

He inclined his head politely. "I would not care to mistreat the prophetess. Bid your father farewell. And your lover," he added in a growl. He looked around at James. "Did you touch her, when you kept her with you?" he snarled. Isobel drew in a quick, wary breath.

James stared at him, evenly, silently.

"Return to your chamber," Ralph told Isobel. "I have matters to discuss with these men. Go on. Margaret, take her out of here," he barked. Margaret stood beside John Seton and made no move to leave.

Isobel backed away from Ralph, glancing over her shoulder. James rose up slowly, sliding his back against the wall, gaining his feet through the strength of his legs and sheer will. His gaze was stony as he glared at Ralph Leslie, despite the swollen left eye and bruised jaw.

Her heart lurched when she saw him stand, his fists clenched beneath the iron bands, his legs apart. He was weak, she knew, but she saw stubbornness and rage bring him to his feet as if his injuries were nothing. She stepped back again, watching Ralph, until she stood within inches of James.

"Isobel," Ralph said. "Get you to your chamber."

Her own anger surged. She fisted her shaking hands in an echo of James's stance. "You played us false!" she cried. "You held Margaret dishonorably—you betrayed me with Father Hugh this morn—and you promised to search for my father, when you had him all the time. I trusted you. My father trusted you!"

"I found John in Carlisle, and brought him here."

"In chains?" Isobel demanded.

"You brought me here then, as well," Margaret said. She went over to John Seton and supported him as he slowly stood.

Ralph shrugged, glancing around at all of them. "I recently accepted the command of this stronghold from King Edward in return for my oath of fealty. What could I do but obey when I was ordered to imprison rebels here?" He narrowed his eyes and came toward James. "You escaped that day, but you will not manage that this time."

"Do not be so certain," James growled.

Isobel stepped between them. "You could have given my father a gentlemanly confinement, regardless of your orders. He was always a friend to you. Have you no loyalty?"

"Does he? Do any of you place your loyalty where it belongs, in the king's peace? Seton has been an active rebel, behind my back," Ralph said. "I had the betrothal promise. I saw no reason to court the favor of an old rebel any longer."

"I did not tell you of my secret politics," John Seton said. "Only a few men knew whose loyalty to Scotland has never wavered. But then, you did not tell me that you intended to declare for the English king again. You told me that you planned to choose for the Scots once and for all."

"Why would you trust such a man?" Isobel asked. "Why?"

"For you, lass," her father said quietly. "For you. With so much strife in Scotland, the best safety lies with English allegiance. I thought a Scottish knight with English ties would protect your interests—and your gift—better even than I could, for I could not declare for England myself. I thought him a practical man. Father Hugh continually praised him."

"We were all deceived," Isobel said. "Father Hugh betrayed me this morn."

"I was deceived, not you," John Seton said. "You have never liked these men, but I gave them my trust because they both showed such concern and admiration for you. Ralph told me," he added in a low growl, "that he loved you, Isobel, and that he would lay down his own life before he would let harm come to you. And so I gave your hand to him."

"I told you what you wanted to hear from me," Ralph said. "And I do care for Isobel. So much so that I accepted the English offer of command at Wildshaw. A Scottish born knight with so much English influence is an ideal husband for the prophetess. You wanted her wed to a man of might. Now I have that, more so than before."

"I want her to wed a man with a sense of honor!" Seton shouted, stepping forward. Margaret, nearly as tall as Seton, kept her arm around his waist when he subsided against the wall.

"Honor is not always practical, nor powerful," Ralph said. "Even the most honorable of men can fall into treachery. Ask James Lindsay."

"You know naught of honor," Isobel said.

"Nor does Lindsay, it seems." Ralph turned to look at Isobel. "I have a letter in my possession, bearing his signature. A pledge to turn Wallace over to the English. And he led us there nicely." He looked at James then. "Just as I thought you would if I let you go. I allowed you to escape that day, Border Hawk."

"You think you did," James snarled.

Ralph leaned toward him. "I was there that night, Lindsay, when you were hiding in the forest, shooting at Wallace's guards." He clapped a hand on his own arm. "I caught one of your arrows myself. And so I made certain that word went round about your deed that night. 'Twas simple to begin a rumor that you betrayed Wallace." He tipped his head toward Isobel. "Her prophecy had already suggested it. I merely made sure my tale fit with her prediction."

James stared at him silently, his nostrils flaring, his eyes like steel shards. Then he flattened his back against the wall, sank his weight into the wrist cuffs, and lifted his booted, manacled feet, slamming them into Ralph's gut.

Flung backward by the force of the blow, Ralph lay gasping on the floor of the cell. He rolled to his side, groaning, as the two guards rushed in from the corridor. One of them helped Ralph stand. The other stepped toward James, his hand on his sword hilt.

Isobel cried out and threw her arm across James's chest, staring wildly at the guard. The man halted. Sir Gawain looked at her, his eyes narrowed, his face somber. Then he stepped back slowly, removing his hand from his sword.

"What stops you?" Ralph gasped out. "Toss the woman aside."

"I will not touch a woman in anger," Gawain said. He turned and looked at Ralph. "Nor will I punish a man for doing what I would like to do myself." He spun on his heel and walked out.

"Damned chivalrous bastard," Ralph muttered. "Isobel, get out of the way." He stumbled to his feet, breath wheezing, face pale, and drew a dagger from a sheath at his belt.

"Isobel, move," James murmured.

She grasped him more tightly, her hands trembling on his arms. "If you harm him," she said, as Ralph stepped closer, "I swear to you that I will never say another prophecy again."

Ralph turned his gaze on her. The cold resolve that flickered there made her fearful. "We shall see about that," he growled. He grabbed her arm in a fierce hold, wrenching her toward him, stepping back. Pain seared through her shoulder, and she cried out.

"Bring the other woman to my chamber!" he yelled to the remaining guard, as he dragged Isobel out of the dungeon.

Chapter 27

Ralph opened the door and pushed her ahead of him into the tower bedchamber. Isobel walked away from him, going to the far corner of the small room to stand beside the goshawk's perch. Gawain kakked loudly and clenched his talons.

"He is hungry," she said, sliding a glance toward Ralph. "And he has been alone here too long. He slips back into wildness quickly." She remembered that James had once remarked that if she had no other protection, the goshawk would do. She picked up her glove, shoved her hand inside, and nudged her fist toward Gawain.

The tiercel stepped onto the glove, his bronze eyes glinting at Ralph, who stood by the doorway. Isobel cast a sideways glance at the man, and went to the wooden chest, where she had left the hawking pouch. She took out a strip of raw meat, wrapped by James before they left the crag, and laid it on the glove. The hawk clutched it with a foot, dipped his head down, and tore at it with his beak.

Ralph stepped toward her. "You have become quite a falconer since I saw you last," he said. "But I found this bird to be far too wild and truculent, and spoiled to the fist. He will never learn to hunt. His temper is too hot. I would have let him go, but your father said he would take over the care of him."

"Jamie was sure that his first owner ruined him," she said, sliding him a glare. "Now he comes to Jamie like the wind." She spoke quietly, but relished the words.

Ralph came nearer. "And you? Do you obey Lindsay's commands, too?"

She half turned away. "Do not stare so. Gawain does not like it. In fact," she said, as the tiercel raised his head to glare at Ralph, just as she did, "I think he does not like you. Mayhap you should leave." Gawain worked the last of the food down his throat and stretched his beak open. Isobel murmured to him and stroked a finger down his breast.

Ralph stayed, folding his arms as he watched the bird. At least, Isobel thought with relief, he seemed to have calmed his temper, though his taut mood hung in the air, making her uneasy. The bird sensed it too, for he pulled in his feathers tightly and swiveled his head, his eyes gleaming amber beneath slanted white brows. She watched him for signs of bating, and murmured softly.

"Did Lindsay teach you how to handle that gos?" Ralph asked.

"Aye," she said, stroking the bird.

"Just what else did he teach you?" he murmured smoothly. His flat stare disconcerted her.

Isobel made a few small, airy noises to the bird while she tried to compose her answer. "He taught me about freedom," she said carefully.

"Freedom!" he scoffed. "You learned that from an outlaw, hiding on a damned crag? He held you hostage, and called it noble, I suppose. And you believed his vows of liberty for himself, and for Scotland." He shook his head. "I often feared that you had poor experience of people, Isobel—of men. This is certain proof."