Chapter 4
Gabriel scanned the clearing in the waning moonlight, and decided this place was as good as they would find to rest for a few hours.
The horses were tired, his men were tired, and all of them needed fresh water. He could hear the gentle burbling of a creek nearby, which would quench that basic requirement.
First water, then food—such as it was, salted strips of dried venison and even drier bread, but that was the extent of their provisions for this journey.
Then a strict rotation of men sleeping for two hours while others stood watch during the time they spent here, which he judged would be no more than six hours. He wanted them to be well on their way before sunrise; Gabriel determined that they would return to MacLachlan Castle on the morrow by midnight.
Danger was always afoot, either from warring Scots clans or the English, who tramped across Scotland at will and sometimes made no effort to differentiate between friends or foe before drawing swords and blood.
To most it appeared that Seoras supported King Edward, known as Longshanks and to whom he owed much of his lands and prosperity. Yet Gabriel knew that in Seoras’s cold, ambitious heart, he had yearned to become king of Scotland ever since their overlord, John “Red” Comyn, had met his demise in February the year before at the hands of Robert the Bruce.
The Bruces against the Comyns, thus it had been for years as the two powerful families had vied for power, but six weeks after Red Comyn’s murder, Robert had gotten himself crowned king of Scots and chaos ensued. Many opposed him, including King Edward and the kin and supporters of the Comyns who thirsted for revenge. After Edward’s forces defeated Robert at the battle of Methven, he had fled into hiding until three months ago. Skirmishes, night raids, and ambushes had become the order of the day since Robert had reemerged in Ayrshire to the south of Argyll to begin a guerrilla war, and for all Gabriel knew, he might be closer than afar.
No matter. If Gabriel and his men came upon Robert and his ragtag followers, if they had been foolhardy enough to venture north, he had his orders.
Seoras wanted Robert the Bruce’s severed head on a platter—although after Seoras’s treacherous bargain, Gabriel was becoming secretly convinced that the better man already bore the title of king of Scots.
“Wake, Magdalene…wake,” he grated, though she slept so soundly in his arms that she didn’t stir an eyelash. After that wild outburst of laughter, she had settled down into a stony silence that had continued until she fell asleep, though at times he had known she’d awakened briefly by the tension in her body.
A feminine body so lush and warm against him, Gabriel had found himself plagued the entire rest of the day’s journey by visions of her running naked across the courtyard, naked in the fountain, naked in her room—by God, he couldn’t shake himself from it! The memory of the silkiness of her skin when he’d slapped her bottom still stirred him, though he didn’t want to even think of it.
Need he remind himself that his wife was more a child than a woman to be desired? Seoras may be expecting him to bed her at once to consummate their marriage, but Gabriel had no more intention of doing so than he would cut his own throat. The thought sickened him and incensed him by turns, and he nudged his horse further into the clearing as he shook her—perhaps a bit too roughly.
She gasped and glanced up at him as if in confusion to be wakened so abruptly from her deep sleep.
“Easy, woman…we’re going tae rest here for a while.”
She stiffened and glanced wide-eyed around her, Gabriel’s men fanning out around them and dismounting heavily from their horses.
He didn’t have to utter a word of command, everyone so attuned to what Gabriel expected that they knew exactly what to do.
Tartan blankets were shaken out and provisions retrieved from burlap bags tied to saddles, and then some of the men gathered the horses to lead them through the trees to the creek. Other men took up defensive positions around the clearing, while some were already lying down with exhausted groans upon the mossy ground.
“Och, Gabriel, my arse is sore,” bemoaned Conall, while Alun shook his head and half-snorted, half-laughed.
“You’d think by now your arse would be thick as leather from all the riding we’ve done over the years. Move over, Campbell. Will you take up enough space for two men?”
Alun didn’t wait for Conall to oblige, but settled his blanket over him like a cloud, which made Conall swear under his breath and sweep the offending garment aside. Yet his grin told Gabriel that the two warriors were only sparring with each other as they always did, some of the other men around them chuckling.
The shared humor lightened Gabriel’s mood somewhat, though Magdalene starting to wriggle in his arms made him scowl.
He should have woken her sooner and not have her sleep the journey away, for now she was rested while he felt his own exhaustion settling over him.
Heavily, he dismounted and kept a firm hand on the reins, not wanting her to think she might snatch them from him again and ride off like a wild hoyden.
He had been stunned by her prowess with his horse, a massive creature that no one else had ever ridden but him. The same instant he’d whistled, it had looked like she might tumble from the saddle and break her neck when the stallion turned around so sharply—his astonishment doubling at how expertly she regained control and kept her seat.
Yet it had been the lucidity in her gaze that had struck him as his horse had carried Magdalene right back to him—not at all a childlike expression on her face, but one of outright indignation.
Mayhap he had imagined it, Gabriel told himself as he clasped her around the waist and lifted her from the horse, Magdalene gasping aloud. She braced her hands upon his shoulders as if fearing she might fall, which wasn’t at all like the woman he’d seen earlier handling his mighty steed as if born to it.
“I’ve got you, Maggie.”
As if startled to hear him call her by that name, she let her hands slip from his shoulders and she stood there stock-still in front of him, though he couldn’t read her full expression in the dim moonlight.
“Do you mind if I call you Maggie?”
