It made no sense. None. Why would Cristie leave? And she must have left, for she had not been taken, which had been Ewan’s first fear. But nay, Castle Cathan had not been breached. The main gates had not been opened, nor had anyone seen the lass leave. All of which pointed to a single, undeniable conclusion—that Cristie had left voluntarily and covertly. The lass had, in effect, run away.
And Ewan could not begin to imagine why.
Had he said something the previous night? Something she’d misconstrued? True, he had not told her of his intentions, despite hearing the longing in her voice when she’d spoken. And despite seeing the familiar light in her eyes, the one he’d doubted when her betrayal had first been discovered.
Now, he doubted it all over again.
A shout went up as he and Gabriel approached the castle gates. They opened moments later, and both men spurred their lathered horses into the courtyard. Obviously, their imminent arrival had been announced, evident from the welcoming party
“Any sign?” Ruaidri asked, as Ewan slid from the saddle.
Chest heaving, Ewan shook his head. “Nay. We rode a good way along the burn before turning back. She couldnae have got any further than that on foot. And we came back via Eaglais Chruinn, but Father Iain has seen no one.” He touched Ruaidri’s face. “I told him you’d returned, Ru. He declared it a miracle and was still weeping when we left. Says he’ll be here on the morrow to see the miracle for himself.”
Ruaidri gave a wistful smile. “Something to look forward to, but in the meantime, we need to find Cristie.”
“Maybe she doesnae want to be found,” Morag said, tucking her arm through Ruaidri’s. “Why else would she leave in such a manner?”
Ruaidri grimaced. “Nay, something prompted it. The lass wouldnae leave without good reason.”
Ewan shook his head. “Well, I cannae think what that reason might be.”
“We should check the coast road,” Gabriel said, sliding from his saddle. “’Tis the only other path she could have taken.”
“But she’d have no cause to go that way,” Ewan said, watching a leather-faced old man steering a pony and cart out of the still-open castle gates. “’Till she came here, the lass had never even seen the sea.”
“On reflection, I must agree with Gabriel,” Ruaidri said. “I truly doubt she’d have considered going back to Dunraven. She fears Alastair, and with good cause. He’d likely kill her if got his hands on her again.”
“Dinnae say that, Ru.” Still watching the pony and cart, and with the faint stench of fish in his nostrils, Ewan wrapped a hand around his sword hilt. “The bastard might still be lurking out there somewhere.”
“Aye, he might. And assuming she also had that in mind, she may well have chosen to take the coast road,” Jacques said. “A lesser known, but safer route.”
Morag pulled her shawl tighter. “’Tis a desolate, windy path with little shelter,” she said. “But you know that. You came that way yourselves but a few weeks ago.”
“Who was that man?” Ewan asked, as Niall began to close the gates. “The one who just left?”
“His name is Sim.” Ruaidri followed Ewan’s gaze. “He’s a fisherman and older than the rocks. He delivers barrels of salted herring to us a couple of times a year. Why do you ask?”
A flutter of anticipation arose in Ewan’s belly. “Where does he live?”
“He lives…” Ruaidri eyes widened with apparent understanding. “He lives about a half-day south of here.”
Ewan drew breath. “Niall,” he bellowed, “tell Sim to halt!”
Morag gasped. “You think he might have seen Cristie?”
“I pray so,” Ewan muttered, and strode toward the fisherman, who had and was looking back over his shoulder. “Dear God, I pray so.”
A short while later, riding two fresh horses and leading Cristie’s little mare, Ewan and Gabriel set out once more. The fisherman had not learned the lass’s name, but his description of her matched Cristie, down to her bruised face and bandaged hands.
“If the wee lass did as bid,” he’d said, “she’ll be fed and rested when ye find her.”
Relief had flowed through Ewan like sweet wine, lifting the burden of fear from his shoulders. Still, the unanswered question remained.
Why did she leave?
The afternoon light had begun to wane by the time they reached the small village. Ewan found the fisherman’s cottage easily enough, rode up to the door, and dismounted. The door opened before he had time to knock, and a woman stepped out. If Sim was as old as the rocks, this woman had to be as old as the earth. The deep lines on her face gave testimony to her advanced years, as did her shrunken frame and the strands of fine, white hair poking out from beneath her veil. With one hand holding a staff, she shaded her brow with the other and squinted up at Ewan through milky eyes.
“By Christ’s blessed bones,” she said. “This wee house is busy today.”
“Mistress Gunna?” Ewan had learned the woman’s name from Sim. “I seek the whereabouts of a lass. Your husband said he sent her to you.”
She peered passed him. “Where is he?”
“Your husband? He’s on his way home. Is the lass still here?”
Gunna sniffed. “Well now, good sir, that depends.”
Ewan frowned. “On what? Is the lass here or nay?”
“Are ye the one who struck her? For I’ll no’ tell ye where she is if ye’re the one who struck her.”
Behind Ewan, still seated astride his horse, Gabriel cleared his throat.
“Who’s there?” Gunna peered past Ewan again and her pale eyes widened. “Why, ’tis a Christian soldier, as was our auld laird.”
“The auld laird was my grandfather,” Ewan said, his patience thinning. “And nay, Mistress, I didnae strike the lass, nor would I ever lay a rough hand on her. Is she still here? Answer me.”
The woman squinted at him anew. “The auld laird was your grandfather?”
Ewan forced a smile. “Forgive me. I should have said. Aye, my name is Ewan MacKellar. I’m the younger brother of Laird Ruaidri MacKellar.”
“Och, well, aye, ye should have said. I heard you’d returned.” Gunna shook her head. “Nay, the lass isnae here.”
Ewan cursed under his breath. “Then, where is she?”
“She’s—”
“Ewan.”
He turned to look at Gabriel who nodded toward the shore. Ewan followed his direction to see a small, familiar figure standing at the water’s edge, gazing out across the waves.
“Thank Christ,” he murmured.
“Said she wanted tae watch the sunset.” Gunna gazed up at the clouds. “I fear she’ll no’ see much o’ one tonight, though.”
“You have my gratitude, Gunna,” Ewan said, turning back to the woman. “Your kindness willnae be forgotten.”
“Och, she’s a nice wee lass,” Gunna replied, retreating back into her cottage. “Doesnae deserve tae be ill-treated. Ye’ll see her home safe, then?”
Ewan inclined his head. “You have my word.”
Gunna responded with a gap-toothed smile and closed the door.
“I’ll wait with the horses,” Gabriel said, dismounting.
Ewan gave a vague nod and headed down the narrow path to the beach. A fine shale crunched beneath his feet like broken glass, an accompaniment to the solid beat of his heart in his ears. To add to the clamour, the waves, aroused by the wind, rolled like thunder onto the shore. Cristie stood just out of their reach and appeared to be deep in thought as she gazed out toward the horizon. Her cloak lifted like wings, and long strands of her unbound hair whipped around her face.
She looked bereft. Lost. In need of direction.
Ewan slowed his step as he approached and he wondered, again, what had prompted the lass’s exodus. What kind of response might he expect from her? Had he been so mistaken the previous night, hearing the plea in her voice and seeing the want in her eyes?
At that moment, a gull screeched overhead, and Cristie stirred as if waking from a dream. She turned and looked directly at Ewan, her benign expression turning to one of absolute shock.
“Ewan!” Eyes wide, she took a step back. “What… what are you doing here?”
He halted. The lass had the look of a feral creature, one that might turn and bolt if he dared to approach. A frown flitted across his brow. “’Tis a question I should be asking you, lass.”
“But, how…” Disbelief etched on her face, she glanced about wildly “How did you find me?”
“By the grace of God and an auld fisherman,” he said, moving a little closer. “I’ve been searching for you all day. What possessed you, Cristie? Why did you leave without a word to anyone?”
She looked at him aghast, as if trying to make sense of his words. “You’ve… you’ve been searching for me?”
“Aye.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And I cannae fathom why that appears to surprise you. Why, lass? Why did you leave?”
“Because I…” Uncertainty showed on her face as her gaze wandered over him. “Because I couldnae bear…”
“What?” he demanded, moving to within an arm’s reach of her. “You couldnae bear what? Did someone threaten you? Hurt you?”
“Nay!” She shook her head. “Naught like that.”
“Then explain.” Ewan dared to cup her cheek, gratified that she didn’t flinch or draw back. “Because right now, I cannae decide whether to kiss you or shake you. To leave as you did, with no warning, no explanation. What, under God’s great sky, would make you do such a thing?”
“Because I’m a coward.” Her lip quivered. “Truly, Ewan, I didnae expect you to come looking for me. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you some trouble.”
“A coward? What do you mean? What are you afraid of?”
“Facing the truth.” She released a tearful laugh, a sound void of humour. “I left because I no longer had a reason to stay. I am happy for you, though, and I mean that from my heart. I just didnae have the courage to tell you to your face.”
“Happy for me?” Beyond confused, he rubbed his forehead. “I’m adrift, Cristie. I swear I dinnae have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Um…” She frowned. “The Templars?”
“What about them?”
“Well, you’ve… you’ve decided to take your vows again.”
His confusion grew. “What makes you think that?”
“Because I…” A look of bewilderment settled on her face. “Because I saw you this morning, in the hall. Wearing your mantle.”
And, in the space of a single heartbeat, everything made sense. “Och, Cristie, nay.” Relief flooded through Ewan like an elixir. Her flight had been the result of a simple misunderstanding, a misconstrued moment of time. Of course, if not for the kindness of some simple fisherfolk, things might have been much worse. But she was safe, thank God, and he’d had not been mistaken about her love for him. Quite the contrary. He threw another prayer of thanks Heavenward and drew her close. “It was not what it looked like. It was not what you think.”
She trembled against him. “But I saw you.”
“Aye, but you saw me wearing Jacques’ mantle, not mine.” He pulled back and stroked her hair from her face. “Ruaidri said he wished he’d been there the night I returned, wished he could have seen me as a Templar. Jacques took off his mantle and put it on me, but only for Ruaidri’s sake. It was an unplanned thing. If you’d waited a wee while, you’d have seen me take it off.”
She worried her lip and looked away as if absorbing what he’d said. “So, you’re not…?” Eyes bright with tears, she gazed up at him once more. “You’re not retaking your vows?”
“Nay.” He smothered an urge to smile—not easy, considering his heart now felt as light as thistle down. “At least, not my Templar vows.”
She blinked, sending a tear tumbling down her cheek. “What do you mean?”
“Please dinnae cry, Cristie.” He brushed the tear away. “I was tempted to tell you last night, but you looked so exhausted, I decided I’d wait till today. A bad decision, in hindsight. I’d prayed for decent weather too, because I’d planned to take you down to the shore to tell you.” He glanced about. “Well, we’re at the shore, right enough, though a wee bit further south than I’d anticipated. The weather’s no’ too bad, either, so I suppose I can tell you here and now.”
Cristie fidgeted. “Tell me what?”
“That I’d like to take my marriage vows again.” He sighed and gazed into the blue depths of her eyes. “And I’d like to take them with you, Cristie Ferguson. I love you. ’Tis as simple and as complicated as that. I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“You would?” A cautious expression of hope crept onto her face. “I mean... you do?”
“More than anything.”
“But I… I am base-born.”
“I dinnae care.”
“And after all that I have done.” She shook her head. “The way I deceived you, Ewan.”
He placed a finger atop her lips. “You speak of things past. ’Tis the future that concerns me. Will I remain close to the Templar brotherhood? Aye, of course I will. They’ll forever be a part of my life, and if they ever have need of me, I’ll try and answer their call. But I…” Ewan paused, unsure of how to proceed. He’d never even shared his innermost thoughts with God. At least, not verbally. But he needed to do this. The regrets that plagued him stemmed from words not spoken and feelings not shared. Opportunities had been forever lost. A harsh lesson to learn, and he had learned it. He took a steadying breath, and continued.
“When I took you back to Dunraven, I confess I never had any intention of seeing you again. But if you think it was easy for me to leave you there, to watch you walk away, you are mistaken. It near killed me, Cristie. I wanted to believe you’d meant to tell me the truth and that you loved me, but—”
“I did mean it, Ewan,” she cried. “I do mean it!”
“I ken, lass. The problem was, I couldnae reconcile heart and conscience. I couldnae begin to defend or justify what you’d done. The deception—the damage—was too great. Or so I thought. Then, last night, you show up at the gates with Ruaidri, who looked to be at death’s door. At first, I feared you’d known of his captivity all along, till I learned the blessed truth of it. And in learning that truth, I was able to reconcile what I felt for you.” He swallowed over a sudden tightness in his throat. “You’re brave and bonny, and I want you by my side always. Say you’ll marry me, Cristie. Make a stubborn, battle-scarred knight happy.”
“Oh, Ewan.” She laughed even as her tears fell again. “Of course I’ll marry you! I swear there’s naught I want more. ’Tis the answer to my prayers.”
“Then God be praised.” Ewan lifted her chin and lowered his mouth to hers in a tender caress. A soft whimper escaped her; a sweet sound of delight that sparked a flame of desire deep in his belly. “I’m blessed,” he murmured, against her lips. “So very blessed.”
“As am I.” Cristie gave him a sheepish smile. “Though I must confess, I also feel a wee bit foolish now I know the truth of it. I should have waited instead of running off like that.”
“Aye, well…” Ewan assumed a stern expression and brushed an errant strand of hair from her forehead. “Dinnae do it again.”
“I willnae.”
“Ever.”
“Never, ever.” She smiled and drew a cross over her heart. “I swear it.”
“Good.” He lifted one of her bandaged hands and eyed it with concern. “Still sore?”
Cristie wrinkled her nose. “A little, aye.”
“Gabriel will tend to them.” He glanced briefly over his shoulder to where his friend still waited. “Come on. It’ll be dark soon. Let’s go home.”
“Home,” Cristie repeated, as if savouring the word.
“Aye.” Ewan bent and kissed her again. “From now on, mo chridhe, your home is with me.”