Page 79 of The Scottish Bride
“We might see him soon. They have been watching us for a while.”
“They?”
“Come out, you,” he said to the trees, “and call your spy down from his perch.”
Tamsin looked around, astonished. Then she heard a rustle of leaves and two men emerged. One, the larger of the two, carried a bow and quiver on his back; the other, lean and brown and strikingly handsome, wore a heavy glove. Stepping onto the forest path, the tall, lean fellow lifted the glove and whistled a sequence of notes. The pale goshawk sailed out of the tree to alight on the leather glove.
“Greetings, Sir William,” the man said. “Is this the lady you went to fetch?”
“Lady Thomasina Keith, this is Sir James Lindsay of Wildshaw, who prefers these woods to his own castle.”
“These woods are my castle. My lady,” Lindsay said, and indicated the other fellow. “This is Sir Iain Campbell.”
“Campbell!” Tamsin raised her brows. “I have heard of Iain Campbell—are you kin to Sir David Campbell? And Lady Edith?”
“I am,” the man said. His voice was deep, distinctive. “I hope they are well.”
“They are,” she said, and smiled. His return smile was tense. Tall and broad with a wild mop of dark gold curls, he had an angelic face beneath that frown, beneath his scruffy beard.
James Lindsay lifted his hand and flicked his gloved wrist slightly. In a quick flurry, the bird left his hand and soared upward.
“What a beautiful bird,” Tamsin said. “Thank you for the welcome.”
“Jamie, my lady. We go by simple names here.”
“Tamsin,” she offered, and knew suddenly, surely, these were good men, intelligent and worthy, men who had made difficult and dangerous choices out of inner conviction, like Liam had done. Whatever brought them to the forest had not been easy.
Glancing at Liam, she felt shy and a little ashamed, for she had made unforgiving assumptions of him even while she insisted on truth. He smiled, and she felt humbled, hopeful. He had friends here; she sensed his ease, his comfort in these woods. Sensed he wanted her to like them as friends too. Truly she would try.
She glanced up. “That is a beautiful bird.”
“Gawain!” James whistled and lifted his glove, and even before he raised it high, the bird sailed back to settle there, bronze eyes gleaming. James shut the bird’s curious stare by popping a leather hood over its head.
“That is a very obedient goshawk,” she remarked.
“Only when he deigns to be. Your cousin is anxious to see you. This way.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Leave your horseshere,” James told Liam. “We will see to them.”
Liam dismounted and helped Tamsin down from the dappled horse. “We cannot take the horses far into the forest here,” he explained. “The slopes are steep and can be treacherous for them. We must walk the rest of the way.” She nodded.
James Lindsay gave a hoot like an owl then, and a lad fairly dropped out of a tree just overhead. Without a word, he took the horses and led them into the trees.
“We have a stable through there—a hut in a clearing, well hidden, where the horses will be content. Our encampment is not far,” James said.
Shouldering Tamsin’s satchels, Liam kept a wary eye out of habit as they followed James along a path just visible through the thicket. He noted that Iain Campbell had gone ahead, out of sight now, bow in hand. Liam did not know him, but he remembered Sir Davey mentioning a nephew in King Edward’s service, a knight and falconer. The man had vanished into the forest, rumored to have gone over to the rebels and enraging Edward by taking his favorite hawk. Liam wondered if this was that very nephew. If Lindsay trusted him, it spoke well for the quiet man forging ahead on the path.
As they walked, he thought of the events earlier that day—the fire at Holyoak, where his aging uncle was so vulnerable, where one of his brothers lived. Did Malise know that? Did Edward?
Tamsin thought the attack was because of her. But perhaps there was more to it. Liam frowned, so lost in thought that he nearly walked into a low branch, lifting it aside as Tamsin passed in front of him. Edward’s words, gruff and snarled, came back to him.
You have family in Dumfries and Selkirk. A monk, an abbot, an abbess?Did the attack on Holyoak have something to do with Edward’s threat—carried out by Malise?
“Not much farther now,” Jamie said, turning. “This new place is well hidden.”
“Deliberately,” Liam agreed, taking Tamsin’s hand to negotiate a steep incline. They walked along the mossy bank of a clear, rapid stream, a slender arm of the Ettrick Water that threaded through this part of the forest, its moist scent fresh, earthy, invigorating.
