Page 73 of The Scottish Bride
“In a way. My bride, as it happens.” Seeing Lindsay’s lifted brow, Liam half smiled. “I would ask asylum in the forest for her as well, for a little while.”
“The great Caledonian Forest provides endless sanctuary to those in need, my friend. Come, introduce me to your cousin and the young lady of Thornhill.”
Chapter Twenty
Waiting beside acart harnessed to two shaggy ponies, Brother Gideon raised a hand as Tamsin approached. He indicated the blue sky and scudding clouds overhead. “A bit cool and windy, but a fine day for an outing. We can leave as soon as you are ready. Ah, and here is Brother Allan.”
“Your kinsmen have not yet returned,” Tamsin told Gideon, as Brother Allan stepped forward to take the bags she carried and set them inside the cart. “I am concerned. Today is the fourth day since they left.”
“Liam said if they were not back by now, he would meet us at a certain place in the forest.”
“Good. Then we will not go straight through to Selkirk?”
“Too far in that vasty place, my lady. It will take a day or two by horse and longer on foot to reach Selkirk along the forest paths. Ready?” He held out a hand to assist her into the cart bed to sit on hay covered in a length of wool. She noticed that the cart contained several wooden kegs.
“Are we taking these to market?”
“Should we be stopped along the way, we can say we are out delivering our heather ale. We can give it to the forest folk, come to that.” Gideon climbed up to the plank seat to take the reins, while Allan leaped into the cart to sit against a bale opposite Tamsin.
“Did you both promise Sir William that you would keep watch over me?” she asked. “He feared I might take a cart andset out on my own. I did plan to wait for him. But if we will meet him further on, I am anxious to go.”
Gideon tapped the reins and the cart rolled through the gate and over the earthen track to head east and away from Holyoak and its crescent-shaped Loch. As they crossed the moorland toward the forest, dark treetops were just visible in the distance, softened in the mist that had yet to dissolve in the sunlight.
Tamsin shivered in the breeze, grateful to be moving at last. Yet she could not shake the worry that there had been no sign or word from Liam. Had he and his kinsmen found her cousin and come away safely?
Thinking of Liam, his blue eyes so aware, his concern for her sincere, she drew a breath. Though they were handfasted now, she felt wary. He had a keen interest in the book she would fetch in Selkirk, and she was unsure what he would do once she had it. Whether he wanted to obey King Edward’s orders or give the writings to Bruce, she would refuse. Kisses, caresses, and promises aside, her sense of caution and determination to protect Thomas’s legacy had renewed in Liam’s absence.
A strong breeze blew the hood of her cloak back and fluttered through her hair, loosening tendrils along her braid. She felt that instant of freedom like a sip of water for the soul. The confinement of the abbey slipped away behind her with every turn of the wheels.
“Brother Gideon, perhaps you should slow down, we have a lady in the cart,” Allan said. “You do seem in a hurry.”
“Just keeping a brisk pace should we see anyone we would rather not meet, lad.”
“I do not mind a fast pace.” Tamsin turned her face to the breeze.
Vast acres of winter-brown grasses streamed past. The trees were turning bare in coppices and woodlands, leaves rustic and golden, some fallen to the ground, while tall pines swathed indark green thrust into the blue sky. Until now, she had hardly noticed autumn nearing its end as winter approached. The bright, cool, clear morning gave her a sense of promise and hope. She would protect Thomas’s writings and find her siblings, and soon they would all be together. For now, it was all she dared hope. As for Liam, she did not yet know, in her heart or her intuition, if their handfasting could endure.
“Apologies, my lady,” Gideon called over his shoulder as the cart bounced through another rut. “The drover’s track through here is rough after the storms of late.”
“Nor are you used to driving, Brother,” Allan said. “You prefer to take a horse over the moorlands when we travel and let others guide the cart.” He smiled at Tamsin. “Knights disdain riding in carts. Brother Gideon has not lost that.”
“I may gain humility, but I will always dislike carts,” Gideon admitted.
Tamsin laughed. “Knight? So it is Sir Gideon, then?”
“I was an avowed knight before I came to Holyoak. I would give that up with monastic vows.”
“Will you, then?” She saw him shrug; aye or nay, she was not sure.
“The English come too close to the abbey at times,” Allan said, “so we are fortunate to have a warrior-knight with us. The abbot has not pressed him to make a decision.”
“Because I did not come to Holyoak to find God, but to heal from injuries,” Gideon said. “But Heaven dragged me there, so I must consider that message.”
Tamsin frowned. The more she learned about Brother Gideon, her friend before she ever met his brother, the more she simply wanted him to be happy. But she sensed he would not be content as a monk.
They rode in easy silence, and soon the abbey enclosure, the blue loch, and the stream flowing through the meadow becamespecks and gleams behind them. Ahead, the forest loomed dark and dense, larger now. Scudding clouds above, clean wind, and the cart’s motion lured Tamsin into a near-doze.
Something changed then in the air, in the peace of the journey. She opened her eyes. Allan seemed asleep, while Gideon drove steadily onward.
