Chapter Eighteen

G arrick's hands shook with the force of his anger. They had Jillian and his mother. The proof was clenched in his hands. He silently damned the Saxon rebel leader and his own brother for allowing the women to be captured in the first place.

"Is there a reply?" the young man asked.

Garrick was already plotting the rebel's slow and painful death while trying to keep his feelings of fear for the women at bay. "Who gave this to you?" Garrick demanded.

"One of the kitchen servants."

"A name, give me a name!"

The messenger shrugged. "The wench got it from one of the stable hands."

Garrick rubbed his throbbing temples. Harald was as silent moving as ever. It was why no Norman ever captured him. The man lauded as brilliant when they fought against the invading Normans was now reviled. When Garrick found Harald, he would kill him. It was no use asking any more questions. No rebel would have dared to enter the castle. Only a friend of a friend of the notorious rebel would. Damn the man for his cleverness.

"Milord, the king wishes a word with you," a page summoned him.

The king finally had time to see him and all he could think about was the dire news he had received. God help him, he had to set thoughts of Jillian and his mother aside and make ready to see his king.

*

King William leaned forward. "I understand you wish to set your wife aside, Merewood." The king raised his hand and Garrick forced himself to remain silent. "And that you have received a ransom note for your wife and mother." King William leaned forward anticipating Garrick's reply. "What shall you do about it?"

'Twas no use to deny it. The king already knew of its existence and Garrick's desire to set Jillian aside. "I will answer it."

"Have you the coin demanded? What of the head of cattle? Are your people prepared to brave the harsh northern winter with no grain?"

Garrick clenched his jaw to keep from blurting out if it had not been for King William, he would have plenty of coin, cattle, and grain.

He swallowed his pride and answered, "Nay, Sire. Mayhap Harald will receive something from me, but 'twill not be what he is expecting."

"What have you planned?" his king demanded, pounding his fist on the arm of the massive oak chair he held court in. He was a large man, imposing when angry.

But Garrick did not fear him. Besides, he was too busy planning his revenge to notice his king's anger. A plan was already loosely forming and it was time to put it into action. "What will you give me for the capture of Harald the Saxon and his rebel force?"

"Impossible. My own army tried to flush them out of the woods to no avail." Raising an eyebrow in question, the king waited.

"I grew up in those woods," Garrick answered. "If they are in hiding, I will find them. I stake my life on it."

"And so you shall." The king fell silent, as if considering Garrick's boast. "Your word that you will bring the rebel leader and his men to London."

"You have yet to name the reward for his capture," Garrick smoothly added.

"Your word first."

Going down on his knee, Garrick bowed his head. Placing his hand over his heart, he vowed, "I will bring them to London and justice or die trying."

Satisfied, the king smiled. "In return, you shall receive grain to feed your people through the winter, a head of cattle for each rebel brought in, plus 100 pounds in gold for Harald the Saxon, but he must be alive to collect your gold."

The reward was staggering. Garrick bit back the shout of joy ready to erupt at the naming of such wealth. Wealth , his brain screamed…he could feed their people. The skeletons of his people spare with flesh and cloth, that had haunted his sleep for weeks now faded as relief swept through his soul. He would not have to set Jillian aside; she could still be his wife. His heart lightened with the realization that he could keep both of his vows.

"Sire, about my wife and her holding—"

"Aye, Loughmoe, I know what you will ask. I have given it some thought, but wish more time. Her family's holding could be rich again with the right man managing it."

"But," Garrick began.

"Go to Northumbria, bring back the rebels." The king ended the audience.

With a heavy heart, Garrick returned to his chamber. He had not secured the king's word to grant him Loughmoe Keep, nor did he tell the king he had changed his mind about setting Jillian aside now that he had the promise of the reward for bringing Harald to justice. Throwing his few tunics into a satchel, he went in search of Dunstan. His mother and his lady wife were in need of rescuing, there was no time left to bargain for Loughmoe Keep.

"God, let me not be too late," he prayed.

*

"We have to stop!" Dunstan cried out through the driving rain. His shout was softened by the wall of water falling from the leaden sky. Mud, three days deep, tried to suck their horse's legs out from under them. Lightening flashed, spooking the wearied mounts.

Bending low to whisper in his stallion's ear, Garrick soothed the wild-eyed, black beast. Once he had him calmed, he answered, "Make camp ahead, near the break in the trees." He pointed to a spot a hundred feet farther up, what in drier weather would be called a road.

"'Tis no use to push ourselves too close to the limit. We are four days away from Merewood."

"In dry weather, brother," Garrick reminded him.

"Mayhap six days, then."

"Aye, and reason enough to push on. We leave at first light."

The mud-spattered band of warriors rode into Merewood Keep five days later on the brink of exhaustion. MacInness was there to greet them.

Garrick bit out, "Where's Roderick?"

"He's only just returned."

MacInness faltered in his bid to speak, and for the first time had trouble meeting his overlord's gaze. "I have news, mon. Bad news and I dinna know how to tell ye."

"That whoreson Harald sent his ransom demands to London." Garrick finished for him.

"London? But they've only been gone three days. 'Tis at least four and ten to cover that distance. I dinna understand," the Scot muttered.

"Harald must have been watching the keep for the last few weeks. One of his spies would have been able to pass on the gossip of the keep easily enough. He knew weeks ago I was going. The clever bastard must have taken a chance and sent word of the ransom before Jillian and my mother were even captured."

His vassal's worried gaze met his own. "I canna bring myself to say it."

"I know, but I can. 'Tis beyond clever Harald's plan. It borders on madness. God's breath! How can I outthink a madman?"

Both men fell silent, each lost in the turmoil of their own grim thoughts. Leading the horses into the dry stable, they rubbed them down.

When the horses were contentedly munching on sweet hay, MacInness spoke again. "I know a mon most think mad." Wiggling his eyebrows for emphasis, he continued, "'Tis two day's ride to his home. If ye maun leave before then, I could catch up to ye."

Though silent for a while, Garrick finally nodded. "Aye, Take Eamon and Kelly with you, I'll need Patrick and Sean with me."

"About Jillian," MacInness began.

"The king is still deciding." Garrick was not ready to discuss his plans or the bargain he struck with his monarch, not yet. At the moment, all that mattered was getting the women back, safely.

"What will ye do when ye find them?" his friend asked.

"I will see that justice is done."

"Aye," MacInness agreed. "Cut them down where the Sassenach dogs stand." The Highlander was rapidly warming to the topic. His eyes glittered. "Ye plan to skin them?"

"I said I would see justice done. I will bring the prisoners to London to stand trial for their crimes. Kidnapping is just one of them."

"Aye, and treason." The man's smile was deadly. "I wilna be missing their execution. 'Tis not often a mon is drawn and quartered."

"You Scots are bloodthirsty." Garrick smiled.

The big man grinned. "Aye."

Shaking his head, Garrick tried to get control of the conversation before MacInness sidetracked him again.

"What is this madman's name?"

"Iain. They call him black hearted. But he is no more so than any other good clansman whose family was slain in a border raid. He has no kith nor kin; no woman of his own." Pausing to frown, MacInness added, "He has no fear. He's nothin' to lose and less to gain. 'Tis an honor to die in battle. Iain plans to die honorably."

"Bring him back then. We'll meet on the road south in four days' time."

"Aye."

*

"What do you mean you won't pay?" Gertie planted her hands on her hips and glared at him.

"Where would I get the coin?" Garrick's mind was a whirlwind of black thoughts, the longer they delayed leaving, the worse it would be for his wife and mother.

"I don't care where you get it from, just get it and bring milady and Jillian back here where they belong," his housekeeper nearly shouted.

Closing the gap between them, he laid his hands on her square shoulders. He could feel the trembling even through her considerable bulk. His gaze sought hers. "Worry not, Gert, I will bring them back. Would you pack some provisions for our trip?"

She let go of her anger with a visible shudder, and finally agreed. "Some of my oat cakes and bread?"

"Wrapped tight. We may be in for more rain."

"Milord?" One of the stable lads stood in the doorway to the hall wringing his hands, his gaze darting about. Garrick recognized the lad as one of the servants they'd brought back from Sedgeworth Keep. "Aye, Stephan, what is it?"

The boy looked up beseechingly, his eyes clouded with unshed tears. "Bring Lady Jillian back safe, please?" He sniffled and toed the ground with his scuffed boot. "She treats me like I's someone special, lets me help her brush down your horses. I promised to watch over milady. Bring her back so's I can?"

The boy's fervent speech cut a path straight to Garrick's heart. "Aye lad, I'll bring her back."

Walking across the bailey, he was stopped by the blacksmith. "Milord?"

Though the man had gone gray, he was as broad as an oak, just as he had been when Garrick's father was lord. He wondered what the normally silent man wanted. Time was growing short. "Aye?"

"Bring milady home safe. Her way with herbs healed the burn on my arm. See?" The man shoved his elbow under Garrick's nose.

With a nod Garrick continued on his rounds. The whole time cataloging away the countless demands from his people to bring back his lady wife. Not one of them seemed to doubt that he could do it. They simply wished he'd get it done. He was stopped by five more of the keep's people before he finally made it to the kitchen where still more waited to speak their piece.

"We miss your lady singing while we work. 'Tis like we lost a bit of sunshine now she's gone."

'Twas the truth. Her presence in his home was like a bright ray of sunlight in the cold corridors of his battered soul. He pushed aside his feelings of betrayal at her hands once and for all. The overwhelming affection and acceptance of his people only added to the depth of what he was beginning to feel for his bride.

During the time they spent apart, he had come to carefully replay the events of the recent past. He spun them around in his head again and again, until both his heart and his mind accepted her innocence. Freed from the hold his anger had upon him, emotions he'd never experienced before washed over him. He missed Jillian. He needed her in his life, but was afraid he'd be too late to tell her of the love growing in his battered heart.

Would she forgive him for his error in judgment?

The fact that his keep's people felt the same way about Jillian reinforced the urgent need to bring her safely back to Merewood. He needed to tell her how he felt.

"Milord?" Gertie's kitchen helper stopped him this time.

"Aye, Bess, after I bring her captors to face justice in London, we'll be home."

"That he will, Bess. Worry not," Gertie handed him a sack of food for the journey.

Taking Gertie by the hand, he promised, "We'll be home soon. I expect the fatted calf when we return."

"If the hunting's good, mayhap a venison pasty."

"Venison pasty?" Dunstan winked. "For the road? Gertie you are too good to us."

"When you fine hunting men bring me a deer," Gertie sniffed. "I'll be fixing you that pasty."

Roderick was unusually quiet standing next to his brother. One look at his haunted eyes and Garrick could feel the pain his brother tried to hide. He was moved, his youngest brother may not be the same caliber of warrior as the rest, but he was not without honor. His brother had failed to safely deliver Jillian to London. Which had him asking, "Why was our mother traveling to London with Jillian?"

"Was Jillian a prisoner here, locked in an ivory tower?" Roderick poked him in the chest. "Was she not free to come and go as she pleased? Were you afraid she would embarrass you by following you to London, brother mine?" The anger behind his words struck Garrick with the force of an unseen blow.

"Nay, she was not—"

"I saw how you treated her, brother. God's teeth, I would never have expected my own brother to treat a woman so foully. Did she complain that the keep was not to her liking? Was it the food? Mayhap 'twas the amount of work heaped upon her slender shoulders?"

"It was not my idea."

"I should have taken her away with me while I had the chance," Roderick ground out.

"Roderick," Dunstan warned.

"Leave off. I'll speak my mind to this dull-witted boar of a brother." Getting right in Garrick's face, he shouted, "Are you so without human emotion that you could set aside the loveliest woman God ever made in favor of the cold companion wealth would have you seek?"

Garrick's temper was but a hairsbreadth away from erupting into a rage of volcanic proportions. He didn't have time for explanations. Grabbing his brother by the front of his tunic, he shook him hard. "We're wasting time."

Garrick's throat felt like it was being squeezed closed. He had to find them, time was running out . The woman he had unwillingly given his heart to needed him. The black hole in his chest, where his heart should be, lay open and bleeding. Jillian held his heart in her tiny work-worn hands.

By all rights, she should feed it to the wolves roaming the perimeter of his lands near the edge of the forest. Dare he hope that she'd continue to care for his heart and offer her own in return?

While Garrick's soul writhed in pain, his body calmly walked back out to the bailey where his horse was tethered. Slinging the sack of food in front of his saddle, he untied the reins. Swiftly mounting, he set off, leaving his brothers to follow.