Page 43 of The Hawk Laird
“I was hoping you had a hood and a proper glove to spare. As for the rest—” James shrugged. “The English want me, and so does Leslie. They know I attacked the party that took Wallace. And you know Leslie was with those who took Janet and me to Carlisle in March.” He glanced at Isobel as if explaining this to her as well. “When I escaped the English guard weeks ago, he took the lass into his custody.”
“Enough that they killed my Tom,” Alice said quietly. “I cannot bear to lose my niece as well. She insisted on joining her kinfolk in the forest, and this madness came of it. Will you go after her, Jamie? Naught would please me more.” She peered at him. “Now tell me how it is you have the lady prophetess when Leslie thinks her dead?”
“The Southrons besieged her castle, but I took her out of there,” James said. “We went down the cliffside.”
“After setting the castle on fire,” Isobel said.
Alice gasped. “An adventure indeed, but a grim tale!”
“Alice, we need your help. The lass needs care and rest.”
“Sir Ralph will want to know that she is alive.”
“Oh, he will find out,” James said.
“He cares for the lass, it seems to me.”
“He does want the lady,” he said in a low, quiet voice that sent shivers through Isobel. A swift, intense memory of kisses among the ferns rushed through her. She drew in a breath, silent, listening.
“But he will not have her,” James continued, “until we have the other lass back.”
“You mean to barter her for Janet?” Alice asked.
“I had that in mind.”
“If Leslie wants the lady and she wants him, and we want Janet, we all win in the trade.”
“Who loses indeed?” James murmured, his gaze returning to Isobel.
Isobel sighed. “I will go to Wildshaw and ask Leslie to release your lass,” she offered. “I must see my father. He may be there too. I have to know.”
“Not on your own,” James said in a flat voice.
“I will go there,” she said, summoning boldness.
“Is that a prediction?” he inquired softly.
“Later for this. Your lady is exhausted. You look weary too, Jamie,” Alice said.
Your lady.The words sank through Isobel. She sighed and pushed her fingers through her tangled hair, then covered her face in her hands. “I am tired. Very tired,” she admitted.
Alice went to a cupboard and took out a small red hood, which she handed to James. He slid it over the bird’s head, and the goshawk seemed to relax. He went to the door. “I will take the gos to the cave, and tend to the horses.”
“Good. Ragnell cannot tolerate that gos in the house,” Alice said. “She will bate again.” As if she understood, Ragnell uttered a squawk and lifted her wings. “I wonder what has gotten into her.”
“Lady Isobel named the gos Gawain,” James said. “Mayhap she knows she’s met her match.”
“Ragnell will never meet her equal,” Alice said.
“We all do, Alice,” James said. “Soon or late, we meet the one who will do our heart in.” Without looking back, he turned and left the house. Isobel stared after him, her heart pounding.
“Benedicite,” Alice said softly. “Will you look at that.”
“She snores, yourprophetess,” Alice observed much later of Lady Isobel, who rested in Alice’s own box bed behind a curtain wallwhile James sat with his aunt by the hearth fire. “Near as loud as Nigel did. He could shake the bedcurtains with his snores, that man.”
James laughed and swallowed ale from a wooden cup. After he had returned to the house, having tended to the hawk and horses, Isobel was already asleep in Alice’s box bed. His aunt said she had treated the girl’s wounds with herbal ointments, had prepared a bath for her, and had given her some hot porridge. He had not realized he had been out of the house so long, but was glad that the girl had time with his aunt to tend to her needs.
Now he watched his aunt’s strong, thick fingers wield a needle as she repaired a rent in Lady Isobel’s gown. The firelight flickered over her face, which creased in a frown.
