Page 68 of The Hawk Laird
“Then tell me.”
He looked away, his hair blowing softly in the breeze. Then he shook his head.
“You trusted me with some of what haunts you. Trust me for the rest.”
He smiled and lifted a hand to trace the curve of her jaw. She closed her eyes at his touch, and he leaned closer, hand warm on her cheek in the cool wind, his fingers then cupping the side of her head. The wind fluttered her hair like a black banner around them.
“I trust you, lass, and I do not do that easily. But if I told you all the truth, your faith would vanish. And I need it from you.” His mouth was close to hers then, and she tilted back her head, welcoming. “God, I need it,” he whispered.
His lips covered hers in a kiss that was stirring, hungry. He pulled her to him with one arm, the other balancing the bird. His fingers delved into the windblown mass of her hair as Isobel leaned into his embrace, tipping her head for the deepening kiss. The wind rocked her, and he held her steady while his lips caressed hers, softening, tensing, coaxing. She felt as if the world tilted and the wind lifted her.
Then Gawain leaped off James’s outstretched hand like a frog off a sunny rock. But the jesses caught him, as always, and he battered wildly, his wingtips brushing against her arm. Isobel broke away from James to leap back.
With a deft flick of his gloved wrist, James gave the tiercel room to fuss. The bird then clambered back to the fist, squawking. James shook his head in disgust, then spoke gently to the bird, and sang a few notes of thekyrieuntil Gawain settled, blinking, feet planted on the glove.
James gave Isobel a wry smile. “This dim-witted hawk has more sense than I do. Let me ask your pardon once again. I should not have—”
“Do not beg pardon of me.” Still reeling from the shimmering strength of the kiss, she shook her head. “I was part of that, too.”
“You have placed yourself in my care and are on your way to meet your betrothed. So that lacked grace on my part. I will not give Leslie any more reason to seek my head. Nor will I give you reason to regret—time with me.”
“See, you are a man of honor.”
He took her hand, and turned to look out over forest and sky. “Do you see the hawk there?”
“Is that a hawk off to the west?”
“Aye. A red-tailed hawk. A large one, so likely a female. But it is not wild. There must be a hunting party down there.”
“She is beautiful!” She watched the hawk soar over the trees, circle, bank, sink among the trees. “Soon your Sir Gawain will fly like that.”
“This sorry gos?” James tilted a doubtful brow at the bird on his fist. “He may never fly for me or any owner. I may have to give in and let him go to the wild when his injury heals.”
“James—are those riders beneath the tree cover? I see red and white moving there.” She shaded her eyes.
“Soldiers, coming along the path from Wildshaw.” James tugged on her hand. “Come on. If we can see them, they might see us. And there is something I want to show you.”
She followed, her hand captured in his, her heart beating like a wild thing, and knew as they walked away that she never wanted to leave the crag, or let go of the outlaw who lived there.
And she knew for sure that she did not want to be sent to her betrothed.
Chapter Nineteen
Isobel followed Jamesalong the promontory toward the mountain that rose solid and dark on the eastern side. He led her with swift steps to ease behind an outcropping formed by a rockslide that must have spilled off the mountain long ago.
“This way,” he said. “Careful, now.”
He preceded her down a narrow sloped path edged with scrub and gorse. A plateau jutted out below the high crag, just where the crag split from the mountainside. Runnels of water creased the slope, narrow streams trickling along to disappear behind a cluster of yellow-flowered gorse.
“Look here,” he said, dropping to his haunches beside the gorse hedge. Isobel leaned forward.
A jumble of rocks, broken by some long-ago avalanche, blocked the way but for a gap that opened into the body of the crag. Rills of water poured thinly over the break in the rocks.
Isobel heard the echo of water on stone, and peered into the opening. “What’s there?”
“A cave and a spring. Can you climb down that ladder with one hand?” He pointed toward a wooden ladder, a curious sight that leaned against the rock to sit inside the gap.
She nodded. James maneuvered to catch the side of the ladder and descend carefully, still gripping the hawk’s jesses in one hand. Gawain flapped his wings and squawked, but James was able to climb the short distance to the cave floor. He looked at Isobel and beckoned.
