Laird of the Wind (42 page)

"I understood what Jamie spoke about. After all, freedom," she continued stubbornly, softly, "was what you, and my father, and Father Hugh saw fit to take from me."

"We took naught from you," he said. "We agreed among us that you needed guidance and safeguarding."

"I know differently now," she said.

"I see. Tell me what else this outlaw taught you." He came toward her, standing so close that she felt tension roll off of him like heat from a fire. He touched her head, slid his hand down the gloss of her hair. "Were you a keen pupil for his wisdom?" he murmured.

"Leave me," she said quietly, firmly, turning her head.

His hand fell, hot and heavy, upon her shoulder. "Did he touch you?" he asked. His fingers flexed for an instant, strong as a hawk's talons. She held back a wince, remaining calm and stony under his gaze and his hand. She did not reply.

He trailed his fingers down her back, touched her waist. "Did he touch you like this? Or this...." His hand slid up her arm, and his broad thumb grazed over the swell of her breast.

She stepped away, her heart pounding anxiously. The bird lifted his wings, kakked, stretched his beak. "Be gone, Ralph," she said. He came with her, turning as she turned. She could not get away from him within the small confines of the room.

"You've grown wild in spirit since you left Aberlady," he murmured. "You were gentle, once. Biddable. You need some reclaiming now that you've... tasted freedom." He touched her hair again, sifting it back. She jerked her head away.

"Do not touch me," she said.

Ralph grabbed a fistful of her hair, painfully, and pulled her head down toward his face. She uttered a small cry. The tiercel raised his wings nervously, clenching his feet on her fist. "If that outlaw touched you as a man touches a woman," Ralph said between his teeth, "I will kill him slowly, until he screams for mercy and asks forgiveness for cuckolding me."

Gawain shrieked, and launched upward from her fist with a heavy flapping of wings, tightening the jesses as he pulled up. Isobel raised her arm and resisted the bird's strength. Ralph let go of her, and she stilled utterly, until the hawk slowed the frantic beating. Her heart slammed at the same rate.

"What a troublesome hawk," Ralph commented bitterly.

"He would not be so troublesome if you werena here," she said, keeping her voice quiet. "And as for forgiveness, 'tis you should ask it of James Lindsay." She assisted the hawk back on her fist. "You betrayed him, and all of us, and Scotland, too." She wanted to shout and rave at him, but the hawk's nervous presence demanded that she sound calm and patient, no matter the content of her words.

"I did what needed to be done. Wallace was a firebrand. Many wanted him stopped, Scots as well as English. I am not alone in helping him toward his execution, my lady. And I will continue to do my best to see that his comrades are brought to justice. Peace will come to Scotland," he said. "The king's peace."

"Peace will come to Scotland," she agreed. "But under a Scottish king. King Edward will never rule Scotland." She glanced up and saw Ralph's face change as if he had been struck.

"You have seen this," he hissed. "When?"

Isobel walked away and sat on the wooden chest by the window. She did not answer as she whispered to the goshawk.

"By God, you prophesied for him!" Ralph crossed the room after her and sat on the chest beside her. "What did you tell him? What does he know?"

"What secrets does he know that you do not know?" she asked. "I have forgotten what I saw. That should hardly surprise you."

He grabbed her arm, his fingers pressing deep. "Tell me." "I cannot." She tried to pull her arm away. "Why does it matter to you? What is it you want of me?"

"I must know what you predict," he said. "I must have a record of every prophecy you say—you, my wife."

"You cannot own me, or my prophetic gift," she said.

He rubbed a hand over his brow, frowning to himself. "I will send for the priest. He will sit with you, and you will prophesy again. You will tell me what you told Lindsay."

"Why does it matter? 'Tis my gift to use as I please."

"Nay!" he said, looking at her. "Tis mine, if you are my betrothed, and my wife. And I have promised it to King Edward."

She stared at him, horrified. "What are you saying?"

"I have promised the king that I will bring him the prophetess," he said. "And he in turn has promised me a great reward. A very great reward." He licked his lips.

A chill traversed her spine. "You would turn me over to him? As if I were a—a bag of gold, or a silver bowl, or a bit of land?" Her voice rose indignantly. The hawk stirred restlessly, and she scratched the tops of his feet, heedless of the wicked talons, while she watched Ralph.

"Two weeks from now I am to appear before King Edward and introduce you to him as my wife. I have already told him that we are wed. You are to prophesy for him, and if he is pleased, he will be generous to us both. You must predict a golden future."

"You are mad," she said. "I cannot do that."

"He summoned me recently, Isobel. We must go."

"He sent his lieutenants to besiege Aberlady in order to get to me," she said. "Surely he received word that I had escaped. Or word that I had died in the fire." She glared at him, recalling what he had told Alice about her supposed death.

"Father Hugh told me that you were alive—he learned it when he cared for the wounded outlaw lad. And so I sent word to the king that I had you. I told him you were my wife."

"Presumptuous," she said.

He waved his hand in a dismissing gesture. "I intended to have you back from the outlaw as soon as possible. A betrothal is as good as a marriage, and besides, Father Hugh can wed us quickly. The king sent word back immediately with the date of our audience with him in Carlisle. He expects you. And he expects a full account of your prophecies."

"I will not prophesy for the English king," she said.

"He will not be thwarted," Ralph said. "Nor will I. You will do this. I have no choice, therefore you have no choice."

"I will never prophesy for him," she said, standing. Ralph stood too. Her greater height did not give her confidence, nor did it lessen the fear that rose when she looked in his dark brown eyes.

He took her arm again in a grip that made her teeth set on edge. "You will see the future for Edward of England."

"If I told him what I know of the future," she said slowly, "you would not receive a very great reward."

He tightened his lips until they were white. "Then you must tell me what you see of the future, before you tell the king. You will do that now." He pushed her toward the bird's perch. "Set that hawk away and we will begin."

"Nay." She shook her head, slowly, firmly, locking her gaze to his, though her knees trembled with fear.

"You always did what your father told you," Ralph said. "I expect the same from you. Your new taste for liberty will gain you no benefit with me." He laid a hand to his dagger. "If you like freedom so much, I can cut those jesses and let cursed bird free," he said. "If you do not want to see that, then set the tiercel away from you."

She realized she had no choice, for she could not bear to see the goshawk lost or harmed. She pressed her lips together in angry silence, and turned to put the bird on the perch. Ralph shot out a hand and grabbed her arm.

His silence was heavy and dangerous, where hers was tinged with fear and resentment. He pulled her toward him with an inexorable strength. He slid a hand around to press her lower back until her body met his, her breasts flattened against his broad chest, their clothing thick and warm between their bodies. His eyes were dark, greedy, frightening pools.

"The priest has warned me that taking physical pleasure of you could compromise your prophetic gift." His breath blew hot in her face. "But if you have given yourself to the outlaw, and yet prophesied for him, then we know you kept the gift. For that, I suppose," he murmured, nuzzling his lips along her cheek, "I must thank him, before I kill him."

She jerked her face away and pushed against his chest. "Stop," she said. "I did not say that I gave myself to him."

"You did not need to say it," he said. "I saw it in your face. In his face. I might find it in me to forgive you for that someday, if you promise to give yourself to me alone, and give me full guardianship of your power. No man can possess you as completely as a husband." He gave her a taut smile.

"I will promise naught to you," she gasped. His mouth was hot and slow on her cheek, her neck. She shivered violently and pushed at him, but his grip was too strong to break. On the perch beside her, Gawain fluttered and kakked, and walked back and forth restlessly.

"What if I prophesied for him before I gave myself to him?" she asked, gasping again as he snugged her hips to his. "Then we would not truly know if the gift remains, would we?"

Ralph stilled suddenly, as if all the heat fled from him at once, turning him to ice. His grasp on her arm was iron-hard.

"Tell me," he growled. "Tell me what you did, and when. And tell me exactly what you told him." His fingers flexed on her arm, opening and tightening, wickedly strong. She cried out and struggled against him.

The tiercel shrieked loudly, spread his wings, and leaped up from the perch. He landed on Ralph's hand, only inches from the perch. Gawain beat his wings furiously and shrieked, and his muscular yellow feet clenched convulsively, talons digging deep.

Ralph roared and let go of Isobel, stumbling back, batting wildly at the bird. Isobel ran toward them, watching in horror.

"Cast him off!" Shetried to get in close to grab the jesses. "He will let go if you cast him off!"

Ralph flung his arm outward, again and again, in a frenzy. The goshawk finally released him and beat his wings to rise toward the ceiling.

Isobel leaped upward and caught the ends of the jesses, pulling the bird down to her with all of her might, holding out her gloved hand as she did so. Gawain settled to the fist with a flutter and perched quietly. He blinked a bright eye at her, and then at Ralph, and bent his head to calmly preen his feathers. Ralph sucked in air as if in severe pain, and examined his hand, spewing vicious oaths. Isobel murmured to the bird, stroked him, and watched Ralph without moving toward him.

"He broke my finger," Ralph said, holding up a bloodied, swollen first finger. "I cannot move it. Cursed bird!" He winced and curled his other hand over his injured finger.

"Hawks are dangerous to keep," Isobel said. "You should have remembered that. You should have been more wary. He did not like you so close to him. Or so close to me," she added, stroking Gawain's shoulder. She was not sure why the goshawk had leaped onto Ralph's hand, but she was immensely grateful for the intervention.

"What is the trouble here?" a voice asked. "I heard the screams from the stairs."

Isobel whirled to see Father Hugh standing in a shadow by the door. He stepped into the room.

"That foul bird broke my finger," Ralph muttered, holding his wound up to show the priest.

Father Hugh came forward to peer, and shook his grayed, partially shaved head. "Hawks do not favor you, Ralph," he said. He glanced at the tiercel on Isobel's fist. "Is that the same gos that you left at Aberlady?"

"Aye," Ralph muttered. "And he's not long for this world. You should have eaten him when you had the chance, Isobel," he growled, and stepped toward her. She gave a little shriek and retreated.

"Enough!" Father Hugh snapped. "'Tis just a bird. Have some sense. Wrap the finger and stop complaining. I came to tell you that I just spoke with Margaret. She's waiting in your chamber for you. She's complacent," he added.

Ralph shot him a dark look. "Margaret," he said, "is incapable of complacency. I want a proper wife—this one."

"Have patience." Father Hugh turned to look up at Isobel. He, too, was considerably shorter than she was, his build sturdy and tough, his jowled face still handsome. "Sit down, lass, and talk with me." He took her arm and led her to the bed, seating her on its edge, sinking down beside her. He folded his ink-stained hands inside his sleeves, resting them on his broad belly.

"Isobel," he said, "This morn in the forest—"

"You betrayed my trust," she snapped. If she had listened to Jamie, she thought, none of this would have happened.

"I agreed to let a patrol follow me because I was greatly concerned about your welfare. We had to rescue you from the outlaws. There was no need to do what the outlaw wanted."

"What about Margaret?" she asked. She glanced at Ralph, who sat on the leather stool, nursing his wound, which he had wrapped in a cloth he found in the wooden chest.

"She is content enough here. 'Tis unfortunate that Lindsay believed she was being held against her will. She has been... a willing companion for Ralph these several weeks."

"Surely you know better than that," she said.

He shrugged. "I am concerned with your well-being, not hers. Your honor was unjustly threatened. We saved you. Where is your gratitude?" He smiled slightly.

"You stood back and allowed me to be taken prisoner."

"Do not be harsh," Father Hugh said. "Ralph loves you and wants you for his wife. And he wants you to become prophetess to a king. Has he told you the news?" He took Isobel's hand.