Saving Grace

Saving Grace Page 55

“He was there when you were born and saw you raised, but he told me he left to do the king’s fighting when you were only nine or ten years old. He returned several years later.”

“Yes,” she said. “He came back home just a few months before I was wed to Raulf.”

“You had become a very beautiful woman,” Gabriel said. “And Nicholas was suddenly having unbrotherly thoughts about you.”

She bolted up in the bed. “Is that what the argument was about on our wedding day? You became angry and dragged Nicholas away,” she reminded him.

He nodded. “When I heard his full name, I knew he wasn’t related . . . by blood, and I had already noticed he seemed a bit overly protective for a brother.”

She shook her head. “You’re mistaken.”

“He rarely came to see you when you were married to Raulf. He feels tremendous guilt over that slight, for if he hadn’t been so determined to hide his feelings, he would have seen how you were being treated by the bastard.”

She shook her head again. He wasn’t going to argue with her. He pulled her down on top of him and wrapped his arms around her. “He seems to have gotten over the affliction.”

“He was never afflicted,” she countered. “Besides, he’s a married man now.”

“Nicholas?”

Johanna smiled. Gabriel sounded quite astonished. “Yes, Nicholas,” she said. “He married Clare MacKay. Do quit laughing so I can explain,” she added. “They’ll be happy together once Clare gets past the fact she’s married to an Englishman.”

Gabriel’s laughter echoed around the room. The rumbling in his chest nearly knocked her head off his shoulder.

“I wondered why Laird MacKay joined our fight,” he said.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“He only said he was protecting his interests. He never mentioned the marriage. I probably wouldn’t have paid any attention if he had tried to explain. I was fully occupied trying to get to you.”

“It took you a long while.”

“It didn’t take me much time at all,” he countered. “I had already turned around and was on my way back home when my men reached me with the news you’d been taken.”

“You had already turned around? Then you heard about the army, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he said. “One of the MacDonald soldiers told me.”

“I never heard you or saw you on the balcony, Gabriel. You and your men were as sneaky as thieves,” she praised.

“We are thieves,” he reminded her.

“You were,” she corrected. “You aren’t any longer. The father of my children doesn’t steal. He barters for what he needs.”

“I have everything I could ever want,” he whispered. “Johanna . . . those things you said about me . . . to hear you say . . . to know you believed . . .”

“Yes?”

“I’m not any good at putting into words how I feel,” he muttered.

“Yes, you are,” she whispered. “You told me you loved me. I don’t need or want anything more. You please me just the way you are.”

Johanna closed her eyes and let out a loud sigh of contentment.

“You aren’t ever going to take needless chances in future,” he told her. “Do you have any idea of the worry you caused me?”

Gabriel guessed she didn’t. He waited a full minute for her to answer his question before he realized she had fallen asleep.

He left the chamber a few minutes later to give his appreciation to Laird Gillevrey for his hospitality. The English army had scattered like mice down the hills under the watchful eyes of Gabriel’s allies from the north. The Highlanders outnumbered the enemy by three to one now and made their presence felt. Baron Williams would have been a fool to consider attacking; and although Gabriel was certain he would run back to John, he still wasn’t taking any chances. He doubled the number of guards needed along the perimeter of the holding and insisted his allies stay for as long as Johanna was inside the keep.

Johanna slept for twelve straight hours. She was fully recovered from her ordeal the following morning and was anxious to go home. Yet just as they were about to take their leave, she insisted upon returning to the great hall. Gabriel wasn’t about to let her out of his sight. He followed her back inside and stood guard at the entrance.

His wife took hold of one of the servants and tugged her along to stand in front of the laird.

“I cannot leave before telling you what a fine, courageous woman Lucy is,” Johanna began. “You have none more loyal than this woman, Laird Gillevrey,” she added.

She spent a good five minutes praising the servant, and when she was finished, the laird stood up and smiled at Lucy. “You will be richly rewarded,” he announced.

Johanna was satisfied she had done her duty. She bowed to the laird, thanked Lucy once again for her help and her comfort, and then turned to leave. She stopped just as suddenly.

Bishop Hallwick captured her full attention. He stood in the center of the doorway on the other side of the hall. He was staring at her. She looked at his face for no more than a second or two, but that was long enough for her to see his expression. It was filled with loathing and disdain.

He was wearing cardinal red robes. Johanna wondered if he decided to increase his status overnight. His satchels were near his feet. Two Gillevrey soldiers stood behind him. Johanna assumed they were going to escort the bishop home.

The sight of him made her skin crawl. She would have left the hall without acknowledging the unholy man; but as she turned, she noticed the long narrow rod protruding from one of his satchels and she knew she couldn’t leave without taking care of one last important duty.

She slowly walked over to the bishop. Her gaze was directed on the object of her anger. Before Hallwick could think to stop her, Johanna snatched the punishment stick and moved back until she was standing directly in front of him.

Hallwick took a step back. He tried to leave, but the Gillevrey soldiers blocked his exit.

Johanna slowly lifted the stick up in front of Hallwick’s eyes. The hatred in his expression turned to fear.

She stood there a full minute without saying a word. She stared at the stick she held up. Hallwick stared at her. The hall became silent with expectation. Some might have thought she was about to strike the bishop. Gabriel knew better. He had followed her over to the old man and now stood just a foot or two behind her.

Johanna suddenly changed her hold on the stick. She grasped one end with her left hand and took hold of the other end with her right hand. And then she held the weapon up in front of the bishop again. Her grip was as fierce as her determination. Her hands ached from the strain of trying to break the stick in half.

The wood was too thick, too new. Johanna wouldn’t give up. If it took her all day to destroy the rod, so be it. Her arms shook as she applied every bit of strength she possessed.

And then she suddenly had the strength of twenty. Gabriel reached over her shoulders and placed his hands on top of hers. He waited for permission. She nodded.

The punishment rod snapped in half. The crack was like an explosion of thunder in the silent hall. Gabriel let go and moved back. Johanna continued to hold the broken weapon for another few seconds, then threw the two ends at the bishop’s feet. She turned around, took hold of her husband’s hand, and walked by his side out of the hall.

She didn’t look back.

Evening was Gabriel’s favorite time of day. He liked to linger at the table to discuss the day’s events and to plan tomorrow’s duties with his soldiers. He never really listened to the men’s suggestions or remarks, however. He pretended to, of course, but all the while he watched Johanna.

Nicholas and Clare had left for England over three months ago. Clare hadn’t wanted to leave the Highlands, and it took Nicholas time and patience to coax her into going.

One relative had left, but another was on her way. Johanna’s mother was expected to arrive tomorrow or the day after. As soon as word arrived she was on her way, Gabriel had sent an escort to wait at the border of his land for her.

In two weeks time he would leave to attend his first council meeting with the other lairds. He wouldn’t be gone long, because Johanna was expected to deliver their babe in about a month’s time.

Auggie and Keith had stolen the noser from the Kirkcaldy clan. Laird Gillevrey had mentioned the man and had made the comment he was the best noser in all of the Highlands. Auggie kept the noser locked up for a good long while once he’d selected the finest of the brew for them. The noser was named Giddy. and he was harmless enough. After a month or two of boredom, Auggie took mercy on him and let him try his hand at the game of striking the stones. Within a week, Giddy caught the fever. Now there were two fanatics digging holes all over the courtyard, the meadow, and the valley below, and Gabriel had the suspicion that, once the barrels had been traded and Giddy could go home, he probably wouldn’t leave. He and Auggie had become fast friends; and when they weren’t striking stones, they were dragging copper kettles to Auggie’s cottage to convert into a more effective brewing apparatus.

Johanna sat by the fire every night and worked on her tapestry. Dumfries waited until she was settled in her chair and then draped himself across her feet. It became a ritual for Alex to squeeze himself up next to her and fall asleep during her stories about fierce warriors and fair maidens. Johanna’s tales all had a unique twist, for none of the heroines she told stories about ever needed to be rescued by their knights in shining armor. More often than not, the fair maidens rescued their knights.

Gabriel couldn’t take issue with his wife. She was telling Alex the truth. It was a fact that maidens could rescue mighty, arrogant warriors. Johanna had certainly rescued him from a bleak, cold existence. She’d given him a family and a home. She was his love, his joy, his companion.

She was his saving grace.

EPILOGUE

England, 1210

The chamber was stale and musty with the scent of dying flesh. The room was filled with priests and students who surrounded the bed on all sides. They held candles up and chanted prayers over their esteemed bishop.

Hallwick was dying. His breath was shallow and uneven. He didn’t have enough strength to open his eyes. Across the room was a round table covered with coins the priests had collected from the congregation to pay for indulgences for their bishop. They thought to buy his way into heaven, and the gold would be given to the church as assurance that any past sins the holy man might have inadvertently committed would be forgiven.

Hallwick had never tried to hide his hatred and his disgust for women. Yet the priests he’d trained didn’t believe those views were sinful. They accepted as fact each and every dictate the bishop gave them and were determined to preach his beliefs to their own subjects so that Bishop Hallwick’s good word would be carried down through the generations.

Yet in death the bishop contradicted himself. He died crying his mother’s name.