32

One afternoon, late in July, at the forest pool, Lynx coaxed Jane from her garments. She clung to her shift, explaining sweetly that she had never swum without it. Jane was enjoying Lynx’s delicious courtship so much that she gave him every opportunity to indulge his wooing. Pretending a reluctance she did not feel, she allowed him to render her as naked as he was himself. Jane dashed into the water and Lynx followed, swimming strongly until he captured her.

“Do you remember the lynx I befriended? I always dreamed that someday we would swim together in this pool.”

“You have more courage than sense. Let me show you the danger of swimming with a lynx.” To prove his point, he ducked her beneath the water.

When she came up, Jane did not sputter, rather she smiled her secret smile. “I know just how dangerous and wild a lynx can be,” she teased, “but I hoped to tame him.”

Lynx threw back his head and laughed. “What the hell would you want with a tamed lynx?”

“Absolutely nothing,” she avowed. “I want you just the way you are, for always.”

Lynx pulled her into his arms and kissed her wet eyelids. Then he lifted her high against his heart to carry her from the water.

“Don’t lift me, I’m too heavy.”

Lynx laughed again. “You don’t weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet; besides, exercise is good for me.”

“I know what exercise you have in mind,” she teased, “and I don’t believe it builds much muscle.”

“Of course it does; feel this!”

When he set her feet on the grass, she molded her body to his. “Iron man,” she whispered against his lips.

Lynx stretched out in the tall grass and pulled her down on top of him. “Let the sun play on your skin, it will make you hot for me.”

Jane rubbed her face across the tawny pelt on his chest and inhaled deeply. “Mmm, I love the smell of sundrenched skin.”

“When I lay ill, your fragrance was so clean and fresh when you came close, I couldn’t get enough of it. I love your scent, Jane.” With the tip of his tongue he licked her throat up and down, then her breasts, her nipples swelling so temptingly for his enjoyment. “I love the taste of you too. Lady Jane, I believe you are addicting.”

“Lady Jane Tut, if you please, my lord.”

“How do you spell that? With an i?”

“You are a devil, Lynx de Warenne. I shudder to think what you’ll be like when you regain your full strength.”

“I’ll make you shudder!” Lynx rolled her beneath him and did as he threatened. He was so hot for her after his forced abstinence, that his lovemaking was fierce and urgent. Lynx was completely aware of the violence of his feelings as he took her swiftly and brought them to a red-hot climax. He was amazed at her response to his blatant sexual hunger. She whispered his name and lifted her fingertips to his mouth, lazily tracing his lips as if she would never have enough of him.

Her touch aroused him again, instantly, and he turned her body beneath him so that she lay facedown in the fragrant grass. He curved his great body over hers and filled his hands with her beautiful breasts. Jane arched her back, raising her bottom, and he slid into her from behind. The sleek, wet thrusts of his marble-hard erection made her cry out over and over until his voice joined hers in a low, raw moan, and they both dissolved in hot shudders.

When they were replete, they slumbered in the warm sunshine with the lazy drone of bees humming on the breeze. When at last Lynx stirred, he whispered, “I wish our summer could go on forever. I had no idea being in love was so all-consuming.”

Jane lifted her mouth to his and teased, “In love?”

“I fell in love, all right. I’m still falling … I hope I never hit bottom.”

    As the dining hall at Dumfries filled up for dinner, Montgomery approached Lynx with an apologetic glance at Lady Jane. “My lord, I saw a large mounted force approaching from the south and rode out to investigate. It is Justiciar Ormsby, he says he has been summoned by the governor.”

“The fat swine! John must have ordered him to Edinburgh to answer the accusations leveled against him.” Lynx left the dais to speak with Jock. “Prepare for company. Ormsby is such a coward he’ll no doubt be traveling with a large guard. Accommodate them as best you can; our own men will have to double up.”

Montgomery spoke up quickly, “He is accompanied by a large baggage train and a great body of foot soldiers.”

“Splendor of God! John must have trouble again; trouble that he is deliberately keeping from me. Jock, when they arrive, line up the wagons in the bailey.” Lynx turned back to Montgomery. “The foot soldiers will have to pitch their tents in the south meadows, but first, send a message to Robert Bruce.” Lynx returned to Jane and Marjory on the dais. “You’ll have to instruct the cooks to prepare a mountain of food; Ormsby thinks of his fat belly as often as he thinks of his fat purse.”

Jane jumped to her feet. “I must prepare a bath for the justiciar.”

Lynx took her arm and gently forced her to sit down again. “You are not bathing the fat swine.”

Jory began to laugh. “Oh please, allow me to bathe him. I’m simply dying to see what he looks like unclothed.”

“Jory, you have a damned perverted sense of humor,” her brother declared bluntly.

    When Ormsby was greeted by Lynx de Warenne he showed his surprise. “Rumor has it you fell on the battlefield at Irvine!”

“I did, but I am making a rapid recovery.”

“I owe the de Warennes a debt of gratitude. If the governor had not sent Fitz-Waren to warn me of the impending attack on Scone, I would not have escaped with my life.”

“Be sure to inform the governor of your gratitude, William. I am sure he will give all the credit to Fitz-Waren,” Lynx said dryly. “My steward, Jock Leslie, has had chambers plenished for you, and when you have bathed, dinner awaits you in Dumfries’ hall.”

By the time Ormsby and his senior knights were seated in the hall, Robert Bruce had ridden the eight miles from Lochmaben. The justiciar bristled at the Bruce’s arrival. “Have you not been summoned by the governor?”

“Not yet, I haven’t, but he knows my men are spread out keeping the peace all the way up to the Forth.”

“The governor appointed Brace Sheriff of Lanark,” Lynx explained.

“I’ve been expecting trouble north of the Forth,” the Brace declared.

“Why?” Ormsby demanded suspiciously.

“Use the brains God gave you, man. When Andrew de Moray started the rebellion in the Highlands, the king sent Comyn to hold him in check. Comyn, for Christ’s sake, is a bigger threat than de Moray. The two of them are allies by now and it is inevitable they’ll join Wallace.”

“Wallace is a monster! He tried to seize me at Scone. He’d do anything to get his hands on me or the governor, so he could bargain with the king.”

A sudden wave of fear for John de Warenne washed over Lynx. “All the Scots who lost their clan leaders at Irvine will flock to Wallace. I’m coming with you,” he informed Ormsby.

“The governor will have enough without you. Cressingham has been summoned from Berwick and Percy from Roxburgh,” Ormsby declared.

“You’re not fighting fit yet,” the Bruce said bluntly.

“It’s true, I don’t have my former strength back yet, but I’ll manage and there’s nothing wrong with my men.” Lynx signaled Thomas, Taffy, and Montgomery and issued his orders.

    Lynx waited until they were abed before he told Jane that he was taking his men to Edinburgh. Jane was appalled, but she loved him too much to point out his weakness. Lynx had worked so hard to regain his strength and rebuild his muscles, and he had accomplished much, but he was still lean as a hound, and not yet the invincible man of iron he had been before his close brush with death.

When Jane made no protest, Lynx knew she was keeping quiet to save his pride and he loved her all the more for it. “I don’t want you to worry about me, love. No power on earth will keep me from returning to you.” She had a magic quality. “You hold me in your spell.” She was at once sensual and pure. It was as if the music of her siren song were inside his soul, telling him what to do, and he obeyed; he had no choice.

Lynx brushed back the red-gold tendrils from her temples, then traced her brow and slanting cheekbone with a finger. Everything about her fascinated and enthralled him. Lynx drew her into his arms and devoured her with kisses.

*   *   *

“I am taking the army all the way to Stirling and you are returning to Dumfries. That is an order,” John de Warenne told Lynx flatly.

“Are you saying I’m unfit to lead my men?” Lynx challenged angrily.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Swallow your towering pride and go home!”

“You think yourself more fit than I? You’re in your sixties, for Christ’s sake,” Lynx shouted, revealing his fear for his uncle.

“I do not physically fight these days, I issue the orders, and I order you to Dumfries.” John saw the stubborn set of Lynx’s jaw. “My boy, there likely won’t be any fighting. I’ll offer them terms and persuade them to give up the struggle. I have a force of forty thousand. The best service you can render me is to regain your full fighting strength. It may well be needed in the not too distant future.”

Reluctantly, Lynx capitulated. Becoming a liability to his men in battle would be more than he could live with. A picture of Jane rose up before him and he knew how relieved she would be when she saw his mesne ride into Dumfries’ bailey. Before he left Edinburgh, Lynx went to a goldsmith’s shop to buy her a wedding ring. He chose a wide band decorated with a Celtic knotwork pattern, representing a continuity of life and love with no beginning and no end.

That night, alone in his bed, he found it almost impossible to sleep without her. He tossed and turned for hours until an idea floated to him from some sacred, mystical place. When he returned he would take her to the chapel and marry her again. This time he would pledge his own vows. Once his decision was taken, Lynx fell into a deep and dream-filled sleep.

    At Dumfries a nightmare awaited him. The moment Lynx entered the stable and saw Keith Leslie’s face, he braced himself for bad news.

“St. Bride in her mercy must have returned you, my lord.”

“What is it?” Lynx demanded.

“Come with me to my father. He has a message for you.” Lynx followed him to the castle, impatient that the lad would not spit out what was amiss. When he entered the hall, the first person he saw was Jory.

“God be praised!” she cried. “I was on my way to Edinburgh to find you. The Bruce has gone back to Lanark and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Will somebody tell me what’s going on?” Lynx demanded. He raised his eyes to the stairs where Grace Murray stood holding his son while tears streamed down her face. “Splendor of God, it’s Jane!” he growled. “Where is she?”

“We don’t know!” Jory cried helplessly.

Jock appeared with a paper in his hand and automatically Lynx and his squires followed the steward into the small room off the hall, where Marjory and Keith Leslie joined them. Lynx reached out and took the parchment from a gray-faced Jock.

“Christ!” Lynx muttered, raking a frustrated hand through his hair as the blood drained from his face. “Put a guard on my son,” he ordered Thomas. “Who delivered this message?”

Jock shook his head in dismay. “It could only have been the shepherds who knew Ben and Sim.”

Lynx smashed his fist on the table. “I should have hanged them! Montgomery! Find Ben and Sim Leslie … I want them arrested immediately.”

Jock said shortly, “I have them secure in the dungeon below, my lord.”

“Fetch them up,” Lynx said grimly. “Jory, you’d best leave us.”

Marjory opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. Clearly, if Lynx did not get answers he was going to commit violence.

When the Leslie brothers came into the room, Lynx fixed them with an icy green glare, then he removed a mailed gauntlet from his weapons belt and laid it on the table before them. “You have something to tell me.” It was not a question.

Both brothers spoke up at once, looked shamefaced, then Ben said, “We’d better start at the beginning.”

“Yes, you had better,” Lynx stressed.

“In the Uplands, in the autumn, we heard William Wallace speak. He spoke out for Scotland’s freedom and made us ashamed we served an English master. He pointed out that we lived in slavery and though we were not harshly treated, others were. Most Englishmen are not known for their soft hearts.”

Sim took up the tale. “Many joined Wallace in rebellion. We did not, but we were in sympathy and let them have a few sheep to keep them from starving. Later on, when the arms went missing from the forge, we knew who had taken them. A group of shepherds and homeless men who had been ill-treated banded together to aid Wallace any way they could. Under cover of dark they stole food, arms, anything that wasn’t nailed down. We closed our eyes to the theft and didn’t sound the alarm.”

Lynx’s face hardened. “The baggage train from Carlisle that was set upon?”

“I swear we had no knowledge of it,” Ben vowed. “Only now do we realize we should not have talked openly about Dumfries with other shepherds in the dales.”

“Get to Jane for Christ’s sake!”

Sim’s voice cracked with emotion as he tried to explain. “Two shepherds we knew sought refuge from their English lord. They swore they had barely escaped a hanging. We hid them in my house because Ben’s wife was ailing and Jane was staying with her. The next morning, Jane was gone and that paper was nailed to the front door of the castle.”

“That’s all you know? Where did these shepherds come from?”

“Torthwald, my lord.”

Lynx closed his eyes to blot out thought of Fitz-Waren, but it only brought his cousin’s menacing image into sharp focus. “Lock them up,” Lynx bid Montgomery. “If one hair on Jane’s head has been harmed, you’ll wish I had hanged you.”

    Lynx de Warenne with a company of thirty knights rode full speed to Torthwald. When they were not admitted immediately, they stormed the castle and hanged the guard on the gate.

There was only a token number of Fitz-Waren’s men at the castle, left there to guard the treasures taken from the Palace of Scone. It did not take Lynx de Warenne long to make the men talk. They admitted that a red-haired young woman had been brought in by two shepherds, but Fitz-Waren had taken her away two days past. They swore they had had no hand in the kidnapping. They vowed they were cavalry officers loyal to John de Warenne and would never do aught to harm the governor. No amount of torture made them change their story that they had no idea where Fitz-Waren had gone.

The pain they suffered was naught compared with the agonizing torment Lynx de Warenne endured. Fitz-Waren was evil incarnate and Lynx dreaded what he might do to Jane. His sole hope lay in the fact that she was valuable as a hostage only if they kept her alive.

De Warenne would not remain under Fitz-Waren’s roof, so they set up camp outside the castle, building fires to cook their food. The horses too needed a rest before the knights set out again on their quest to find William Wallace.

As Lynx sat staring into the campfire, his food almost untouched, he tried to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. He hadn’t the faintest idea where William Wallace was hiding. His whereabouts was the closest guarded secret of the common people of Scotland. De Warenne knew he needed an intermediary, but no one came to mind.

Lynx’s only option seemed to be to rejoin John de Warenne’s army and learn if the governor’s spies knew where Wallace was. Lynx stood up to order his men to break camp, when suddenly an idea came to him. He had always suspected that the Church of Scotland was behind William Wallace. Lynx was willing to bet his sword arm that Robert Wishart, Bishop of Glasgow, would have no trouble contacting Wallace.

At the bishop’s palace in Glasgow, de Warenne left his men in the courtyard while he went inside with only his squires. After half an hour of cooling his heels, Lynx de Warenne grabbed a churchman by his cassock. “Tell Wishart that Lynx de Warenne seeks audience. If he doesn’t show his face now, I’ll torch the place.”

In a few minutes Robert Wishart entered the room. De Warenne knew any man with enough guts to defy Edward Plantagenet and aid the king’s enemy would not cave in to threats. Without saying a word, de Warenne handed the parchment to the bishop.

Wishart read what was writ there. “I take it you are the Earl of Surrey’s heir?”

“I am, and the lady who Wallace holds hostage is my wife.”

“You want the church to appeal for her return, my lord?”

De Warenne struck his mailed fist on the carved refectory table, marring it forever. “I want the church to cut out the bullshit!”

“I have sworn my Oath of Allegiance to King Edward’s peace. I cannot contact William Wallace for you,” Wishart said flatly.

“But you know someone who can,” de Warenne said cynically.

The Bishop of Glasgow raised his hands in acquiescence. “Return tomorrow evening, after dark.”

*   *   *

As Lynx de Warenne made his way to the Bishop of Glasgow’s palace, he was amazed that he had gotten through the last twenty-four hours without spilling blood. His temper was in shreds, his gut knotted with sickening fear for Jane, and his patience had all run out.

With his hand on his dagger, de Warenne followed a black-robed priest through a maze of corridors and entered a chamber dimly lit by a few votive candles. The priest vanished and de Warenne stared unblinking into the shadows. A brawny figure stepped forward into the light and he found himself face-to-face with the Bruce.