Page 90 of The Hawk Laird
“Listen to the lass,” a man said. “Do not stay here.”
Isobel nodded, then touched his face, a healing butterfly skimming that somehow took pain away just because she was there. “The goshawk—he is free.” He remembered it now. “Do not fret. He will be happy in the woodland—”
“I have him. He came back. He is here.”
Relief surged through him. “Ah. Keep him safe, then.” He reached up to touch her cheek, the chain jangling. Her skin was damp with tears. “Keep yourself safe too,” he whispered.
“Isobel,” John Seton said from across the cell.
“I must speak with Papa again,” she said. “He is here with you. Did you know?”
He frowned, nodded, stirred to sit up straighter. “Aye.” Awareness was sharpening now.
She smiled, wan and loving, and got to her feet. Her skirt brushed his legs as she turned. He caught at the hem in his fingers, reluctantly let go.
Another skirt came into sight. The woman knelt beside him. “Jamie!”
“Janet! Dear God, lass—you are well?”
“Well enough.” His cousin and leaned forward to kiss his brow. “I am so glad you are awake. When they brought you here, I feared the worst. But I was able to bring Lady Isobel here to see you and her father. We cannot stay long. We brought food.” She indicated a sack nearby.
“You brought Isobel and yourself. It is more than enough.”
“I heard about your plan to ransom me with Isobel. And she told me about you—and her.” She glanced at Isobel, who was talking with her father. “I like her. If you would not have me, that is.” Her eyes twinkled, but he saw sadness there, too.
He tried to smile. “Oh, you would not have me, lass,” he drawled.
“You, a brigand? Surely I would not. But that lass. She has a good and gentle spirit. You need her far more than you ever needed me.”
“You have fire,” he said. “We all need that from brave Janet.”
She squeezed his hand. “I am so sorry. You are hurt because of me.”
“I should have attacked these gates weeks ago. Should have demanded your release. But I thought he might release you in exchange for—his betrothed.”
“The garrison is large here. Your plan was better, and would have worked, if Sir Ralph had any honor. Isobel—wants to be with you, you know.”
He closed his eyes. “That lass—can do better. I just want you both to be safe. She should be with someone who can protect her and her gift.”
“She should be with you, you dimwit,” Janet said crisply.
“She is a true visionary. I thought Leslie would provide for her and keep her well. But—”
“But you were wrong. He only cares about keeping himself well.” She wiped the damp cloth over his face as she spoke. “When will you listen to your heart, you great loon? Who best to keep that lass and her gift secure—but the man who loves her, the man she loves?”
“She wants a peaceful life, a home, a refuge. I cannot ensure that.”
“She wants and needs you more. Do you not see it?”
“I am an outlaw,” he said hoarsely.
“And a great bonny fool.” Janet scrubbed at his temple. He winced and caught her hand.
“Ow! And how am I a fool, when I want what is best for her?”
“What gives you the right to choose what is best for her? Let her decide that. And you,” she went on, “there is tragedy in the past, and not to be belittled, I know. But if you can drop that burden from your mind and your heart, you could have some happiness at last. Do you realize yon lass would risk all to be with you? And you would send her away, thinking it is right? So you are a fool, sir.”
James made a wry face, wincing again, and glanced toward Isobel. She was watching them now, eyes wide, cheeks pink, adeep stillness around her. “There is still the matter of you and Sir John, trapped here,” he said.
