COLM HADN’T GIVEN HER ANY WARNING. HAD GABRIELLE known he was going to call his clan together to make his announcement, she would have changed her gown and brushed her hair. She didn’t even have time to pinch her cheeks to give them color. The door opened, and there they all were, staring at her.
An astonished Liam had followed them outside and stood on Colm’s right as he spoke to the clan. Liam seemed pleased by what he called “remarkable news.” Once the cheering had died down and the crowd had dispersed, he slapped his brother on the shoulder and hugged Gabrielle.
“I thought Gabrielle was our guest because of the help her guards gave me at the abbey, but it appears there’s much more to this visit.” He laughed and gave Colm a shove as they headed back inside. “You’ve been holding out on me, brother. Just how long did I sleep? Evidently I’ve been missing a great deal. I must hear the details.”
“I’ll explain another time,” Colm said.
Liam took Gabrielle’s hand and with a wink said, “Are you sure you’ve chosen the right MacHugh, Gabrielle? Colm can be a bear to live with, you know. Perhaps you should reconsider.”
Colm answered. “There is nothing to reconsider, Liam. Gabrielle is quite happy.” He turned to her. “Aren’t you, Gabrielle?”
“Why…I…” How could she answer him? Happy? With all that had occurred in the past two weeks, thoughts of happiness had not entered her mind.
Liam saved her from coming up with an answer. “Need I pester Lady Gabrielle for details?”
“No, you need not,” Colm replied firmly.
Gabrielle was relieved when Liam bid them good night and went upstairs. She didn’t want to answer any questions. There was a more pressing matter on her mind. The time had come for her to face Colm with the truth. She needed to be alone with him. Her heart started pounding.
“Colm…”
“You look exhausted, Gabrielle. Get some rest.” Dismissing her, he headed for the door.
She followed him. “May I have a word with you? There is something I must tell you.”
“Can it wait?” He pulled a torch from its wall bracket to take outside.
The door swung open and Braeden and Stephen entered. She hoped they would pass through, but neither did. They waited to speak to Colm. He was a busy man with many responsibilities and burdens, she reminded herself.
“I wanted to…that is to say…I suppose I could wait until tomorrow. Perhaps early in the morning?” she asked.
Colm nodded, and Gabrielle, feeling weak with relief because she wouldn’t have to tell him tonight, hurried up the steps.
Father Gelroy was waiting to offer his congratulations, but she didn’t give him the chance. She motioned for him to come closer and then whispered, “I’m so sorry I haven’t told Colm yet. I have twice tried to explain that I and my guards brought Liam to the abbey, but both times we have been interrupted. I think it best if I tell him in private. You had to suffer his anger, and Liam’s, too, because of the promise I forced on you.”
“The longer you wait, the harder the telling.”
“Yes, I know, but I do dread it.”
“Laird MacHugh will be pleased to know that you found his brother and sought help for him.”
“There is more to the telling than you know, but have no worries. By tomorrow night, Colm will know everything.”
“As will I?”
“Yes.”
She had hoped to tell him in confession, but if she did, she would have to say she was sorry for taking a man’s life, and God would know she wasn’t sincere.
That man had really needed killing.
MAURNA WAS THRILLED that Gabrielle was going to marry their laird and told her so several times while serving breakfast.
“No one believed that foolishness the Boswell boys were spouting, and we were right not to pay them any mind since our laird is making you his wife. He declared you innocent, milady, but we already knew it. Didn’t we, Willa?” she called over her shoulder.
The cook peeked out from the buttery. “We did. We surely did.”
“I thank you both for your faith in me.” Gabrielle stared down at a bowl of what appeared to be a thick gray paste.
“No lady as holy as you are would commit such terrible sins, and besides, our laird wouldn’t be marrying you if those sins were true…which they aren’t,” she hastened to add.
Willa brought out bread and put it next to the paste. “You eat up now. You could stand to put some fat on those bones.”
Gabrielle didn’t want to hurt the cook’s feelings, but she had to ask what the paste was before she put any of it in her mouth. It would be more hurtful, she thought, if she started gagging.
“What do you call this, Willa?” she asked.
“Breakfast.”
Maurna brushed some crumbs from the table onto her open hand. “You take your bread, and you dab it in the mush.”
“Mush?”
“It’s good for you, milady,” Willa insisted. “It’s made with cooked oats and some of my special spices.”
“We’ll leave you alone so you can eat while it’s warm,” Maurna said.
Gabrielle reluctantly picked up her spoon and dipped it into the thick goo. “Maurna, could you explain what you meant when you said no one was as holy—”
“As you are.”
“Why would you think I was holy?”
“Not just me, milady. Everyone thinks it.”
“I think it,” Willa said.
“I’m supposing it’s because you spend so much of your time walking with Father Gelroy. You’re praying with him, aren’t you?”
She laughed. “Goodness, no. Father has been rather lonely, and that is why I’ve been walking with him, but we’re both getting accustomed to our new surroundings and feeling more comfortable now. Everyone is so friendly.”
The two women beamed at her praise for their clan.
“Your breakfast is getting cold on you,” Willa warned.
“I thought I might wait for our laird.”
“He’s been up and gone quite some time now.”
When the women left her alone to eat the mush, Gabrielle forced herself to try it and was surprised that it wasn’t vile. In fact, it didn’t have much taste at all.
She finished quickly and then went looking for Colm. The man must get up at the crack of dawn, she thought.
Faust caught up with her as she was heading to the stables. “Where are you going, Princess?”
“I’m looking for Colm.”
“He’s in the fields with his soldiers. Would you like to sit on the hill and watch the sparring?” he asked eagerly.
Faust obviously wanted to watch, and since she couldn’t talk to Colm until later, she decided to accommodate her guard.
“Lead the way, Faust.”
“I think you will enjoy watching, Princess. I know I will.”
“I don’t understand your enthusiasm. You’ve seen my father’s men training nearly every day at Wellingshire.”
“They did train almost every day, and for good reason, for they, like all good vassals, must keep their skills sharpened.”
“I know that, in England, a knight’s primary duty is to protect his liege lord. I think it must be the same here.”
“No, it’s different. I think as long as they win, most barons don’t care how many men die fighting for them, but MacHugh would take it as a personal affront if he lost one man or twenty.”
She lifted her skirts and quickened her step to keep up with him. “Do you think you will learn new techniques by watching today?”
“Perhaps, but that isn’t the reason for my eagerness. You will understand soon enough. We’ll sit high on the hill between the two fields where we’ll have a good view.”
Faust led her up a worn path winding through the trees; it was a steep incline. When she reached the ridge, a panoramic view of the fields opened up below her.
There were two fields almost of equal dimension and separated by mounded stacks of hay. On one side the archers practiced accuracy. Their targets were so far away it was difficult to see the center. Next to them men were throwing axes at targets. As far as she was from the field, Gabrielle could still hear the whistle of the heavy weapons slicing through the air. On the other field, men sparred with swords and shields. Circling them were rows of clansmen, young and old, waiting for their chance to demonstrate their skills.
There were at least a hundred men on the field, yet she easily spotted Colm. He was by far the most impressive warrior there. He stood at the far end of the circle, arms across his chest and feet braced apart. Even from her vantage point, Gabrielle saw his scowl, indicating he didn’t like what he was seeing.
She stared in fascination. His bronzed skin glistened with sweat, and the bulging muscles in his upper arms and legs exuded raw power. While she knew it was indecent for her to notice such things, she couldn’t make herself look away.
“Would you like me to fetch a blanket for you to sit on? Or do you think you will not want to stay that long?” Faust asked.
“I don’t need a blanket,” she replied, sitting down. She tucked her legs under her and adjusted her skirt; all the while her violet blue eyes were fixed on Colm.
“Do you see Stephen? He stands next to the laird.” Faust pointed him out.
“I see him. What’s he doing?”
“He’s watching Lucien spar.”
She searched the field and located her guard. “And why is Lucien sparring?”
“The laird invited him to,” Faust answered. “If he thinks we are capable, he will have us train the beginners. His seasoned warriors find it all beneath them, though of course they would do whatever their laird ordered them to. Stephen says the laird wants us to earn our keep, and we are happy to oblige.”
Gabrielle watched Lucien. Her guard’s movements were fluid and graceful. He held his own against the MacHugh soldier without seeming to exert much effort. Neither gained an advantage.
“Stephen bested all the others with bow and arrow. The laird wouldn’t give him time to fetch his own, so he had to use Braeden’s. I think you could best them all, too, Princess.”
She laughed. “Your faith in me is misplaced. Tell me this, Faust, what did the laird and his commander think of Stephen defeating their soldiers?”
“They were impressed with his skill. Braeden and Stephen aren’t adversaries. They respect each other’s ability and have, in fact, become friends of a sort. The laird has placed Stephen in charge of training the young ones with bow and arrow under Braeden’s watchful eye.”
“What about you?” Gabrielle asked.
“I will spar tomorrow.”
“You needn’t sit here with me. You will know I’m safe. You can see me from either field.”
“The distance is too great.”
“If I can see Colm’s frown, you’ll certainly be able to see me.”
“Tomorrow will be soon enough to take my turn. Besides, Christien will be fighting soon, and I don’t want to miss that. Lucien’s almost finished,” he added with a nod toward the guard. “I think he’s going to let the MacHugh soldier best him this day.”
“Why would you think that?”
“He should have finished him by now. He’s holding back because the man he fights is older by at least fifteen or more years. Lucien won’t humiliate him in front of his laird. It’s what I would do.”
Next to the combatants, Stephen had made the same observation. He stepped back and spoke to Braeden. A few minutes later, Colm stopped the match. New opponents moved forward to take their places on the field.
“Lucien, come here,” Colm commanded.
The guard ran to him. “Yes, Laird?”
“Stephen has suggested that you didn’t put your full strength in your fight. Is that true?”
“It is.”
Colm expected to hear an excuse and was surprised by his honesty. “Give me your reason.”
“He is my elder by many years. I didn’t want to embarrass him.”
“That is the most ridiculous reason I’ve yet to hear. Am I to assume that if an old man were to attack Gabrielle, you would be considerate of his age as you try to protect her?”
“No, I would kill him if he tried to harm my princess, no matter what his age.”
“You insult my clansmen when you do not give your best. Tomorrow I will see that you do.”
Colm gave the command, and the swords and shields were put aside. There would be hand-to-hand combat now. Groups of experienced warriors took the field. Each man’s goal was to pin the other to the ground. Cunning as well as raw strength were required, and several times during the challenges Colm intervened to show the combatants their mistakes.
Christien joined Stephen to watch. “They don’t fight like us.”
Colm heard his remark and called to him. “Show me the difference.”
“I’m sorry, Laird, but I must decline.” He sounded disheartened when he added, “I cannot fight you.”
Astounded by the guard’s refusal, Colm asked, “Why is it you think you have a choice?”
Stephen stepped forward to explain. “Now that you are betrothed to marry our princess Gabrielle, none of her guard can fight you.”
Christien nodded. “We must protect you now just as we protect our princess.”
Braeden took offense. “The laird’s warriors protect him.”
Stephen nodded. “Yes, and we protect the man who will marry Princess Gabrielle.”
Christien glanced up at the crest of the hill where Gabrielle was sitting. “Besides, she would not like to see us sparring with you. She is beginning to have affection for you.”
Colm looked up and saw Gabrielle watching. She was beginning to care for him? Not likely. The guard was wrong. A woman who cared about a man didn’t run him in circles and ignore his every command.
He pushed his thoughts aside. “If you cannot fight me, Christien, then you will fight someone else.”
He motioned to one of his clansmen. A thick-necked warrior immediately stepped forward.
“Ewen, tell Christien how old you are.”
“Laird?”
Colm repeated the command. Ewen, though puzzled by the odd order, quickly obeyed. He and Christien were only months apart in age.
“I trust Ewen isn’t too old for you to fight,” Colm said sardonically.
The two men went to opposite sides of the field. Braeden gave the signal, and Ewen, head down, charged. Christien met him in the center, and before the MacHugh soldier could get in a punch, Christien spun on one foot and used the flat of his other foot to slam him to the ground.
Christien waited several seconds to see if Ewen was going to get up. When he didn’t, the guard walked over to him and offered him his hand. Ewen pushed his hand aside, stood, and shook his head to clear it. He charged again. And again. It was painful to watch, and irritating as hell for Colm. After Ewen had been knocked to the ground for a fourth time, Colm strode onto the field, hauled the battered man to his feet with one hand, and gave him a good shove.
“Four times Christen has flattened you the very same way. Haven’t you figured out that you need to come up with another way to attack?”
Ewen frowned. “I knew he was going to kick me with his foot again, but I thought I could be quicker.”
Colm shoved him again. “Obviously you were not quicker, were you?”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Why didn’t you try to block the attack?”
Colm showed him how it could be done, but Ewen was a slow learner, and twice more Christien knocked him down using the same method.
Three other soldiers met Ewen’s fate. Then the more experienced clansmen challenged Christien. The second man not only blocked his attack, but he landed a good punch to the guard’s middle. Christien fell to the ground. The next time Christien changed his maneuver and felled this worthier opponent.
Colm ordered Christien to try both techniques on him so that he could show his soldiers how to block the attack and gain the advantage. The laird was much quicker than Christien. The third time Colm sent the guard flying backward, Christien landed on his stomach, rolled over, and sat up. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away, looked up at Colm, and began to laugh.
“Again, Laird?” he asked as in one motion he gained his feet.
“This isn’t a game, Christien,” he snapped. “Tomorrow you will help train the younger soldiers.” He pointed a finger at him and added, “Before then, I suggest you rid yourself of your arrogance. In battle, these men won’t get second chances. It’s your duty to teach them how to survive. When they’re ready, Braeden and I will teach them how to win.”