*

“This is yer choice, Havilland,

not mine….”

*

F our long days.

Four days since Jamison and Havilland had their final discussion, since they’d shared that last passionate encounter. Four days since Havilland had spoken more than one or two words to him. Four days since he’d last experienced a taste of her, the feel of her.

Four long days ago, his life had ended.

Standing on the battlements of Four Crosses as the sun rose through the mist, Jamison couldn’t remember when he’d slept last. He thought he might have for an hour or two the evening before, but other than that, he couldn’t really remember.

Sleep brought dreams of Havilland and he couldn’t do that to himself, awakening with a feeling of emptiness more vast that the sky itself, endless in its pain and brutal in its longing.

Sleep was not his friend these days even though he desperately needed it.

So he stood in the mist, wrapped in his brecan , inhaling the scents that the morning often brought– the smell of smoke from the cooking fires and the smell of the dampness over the land that had settled overnight.

It was still bitterly cold, now in the dead of winter.

Even though spring would come next month, it didn’t seem like it.

For now, everything was frozen and dead.

Just like his heart.

As he stood there and gazed out over the land beyond the walls of Four Crosses, he heard some chatter behind him in the bailey and turned to see that the mounted patrols were ready to depart.

The mist had been so dense the past few days that they had to wait until there was some light before sending out yet another patrol in an ineffective search for Madeline de Llion and also for any signs of Welsh movements.

For four days since Madeline’s departure, they’d seen no sign of either. It was as if both had vanished.

But Jamison knew they hadn’t. He knew the Welsh were still out there.

As for Madeline, he couldn’t honestly guess what had happened to her and, to be frank, he didn’t care.

Perhaps he should have, but he didn’t. Amaline was still in the vault, Havilland wouldn’t speak to him, and he was coming to think that his time here needed to end.

He had a father that was expecting him home and a clan in turmoil.

Four days after the news of his new role in Clan Munro, Jamison was coming to think that Beaux and Kendrick and Caspian had been correct.

He needed to go home.

Watching the patrol below as a few Four Crosses soldiers conversed with Tobias, he was coming to the conclusion that he wasn’t needed here any longer.

Tobias and Thad were capable commanders and Jamison really wasn’t needed.

Beaux and Kendrick and Caspian were performing small duties around the castle, working with the men, helping with the change of shifts, but the truth was that they wanted to go home, too, but they wouldn’t leave without Jamison.

They were waiting for him to come around and realize there was no sense in remaining in Wales.

There was nothing left for him now, not with the loss of Havilland.

Although none of them had said anything to that regard, he knew what their thoughts were.

They were trying to be considerate of his broken heart.

A heart that would never heal.

And remaining at Four Crosses would assure that it would never heal.

He was reminded of too much here and everywhere he looked, he saw Havilland.

She was back in her breeches and tunics these days, handling the gatehouse like she always had, as she had when he’d first met her.

In fact, as he stood at the wall overlooking the patrol preparing to leave, Havilland emerged from the keep, dressed in heavy tunics and a cloak.

Her dark hair was pulled into a sloppy braid at her shoulder, the same way she had looked the first time he’d ever seen her, only this time his reaction to her was decidedly different.

The first time he’d met her, there had been suspicion and animosity.

Now, when he looked at her, he felt as if his guts were being ripped out.

He had to turn away from her, unwilling to see her looking up at him.

He dreaded the moment their eyes met because looking into her eyes stripped him of all of his control.

So he turned back to the wall, looking over the mist that was slowly lifting and knowing that this would be the last morning he would see at Four Crosses Castle.

He knew it was time to go home. He couldn’t take this another day.

Leaving the wall, he deftly slid down the ladder into the bailey, glancing once more at the patrol that was preparing to leave but deliberately avoiding looking at Havilland, who was standing next to Tobias at this point.

Instead of looking at her and tearing himself up over it, Jamison gave himself a task to focus on and that task involved finding Beaux or Kendrick or Caspian.

They were around, for he’d seen them before the sun was up near the great hall, but he didn’t know where they had gone after that.

He found himself wandering into the stable yard, looking for them, and was rewarded with a sighting of Kendrick as the man tended his horse at the far end of the yard.

Jamison approached Kendrick as the man cleaned out the muck in his horse’s hooves. Kendrick happened to glance over and see Jamison approach and he dropped the horse’s leg to the ground, standing straight to meet him.

“Jamie,” he greeted. “Did ye get any sleep last night?”

Jamison came to a halt next to the big brown horse.

“Nay,” he said, running a practiced eye over the beast. He didn’t particularly want to speak on his lack of sleep so he changed the subject.

“This horse looks much like the one ye had several years ago, one yer da gave ye. I seem tae remember that it was a temperamental animal.”

Kendrick grinned, slapping the horse on the rump. “He was,” he said. “This is one of his offspring, but the horse inherited his mother’s good manner, thankfully.”

Jamison nodded, running a hand along the horse’s back and noticing that it looked as if Kendrick was preparing the animal. “Are ye going somewhere?”

Kendrick moved to the other side of the horse and lifted a hoof, cleaning it out. “I thought I’d go with a patrol this morning,” he said. “I’ve always had a gift for tracking. I thought I’d see if I couldna find a trail or two left by the Welsh.”

Jamison stood there a moment, watching the man scrape the hoof. “Dunna go too far,” he said quietly. “We should leave for home today.”

Kendrick’s head came up. “Today?” he repeated, surprised. “What has brought ye tae that decision?”

Jamison was still looking at the horse, unable to look his friend in the eye.

After a moment, he swallowed hard, as if struggling to bring forth the words.

“Because I canna stand being here any longer,” he said.

“There is no reason for me tae stay. I am needed at home and the longer I stay here… I’m simply making a fool o’ meself, Ken. It is time tae leave.”

Kendrick leaned on the back of the horse, his expression serious. “Are ye sure, lad?” he asked softly. “We dunna want tae force ye tae leave if ye aren’t ready.”

Jamison shook his head. “Ye aren’t forcin’ me tae go, although ye should,” he said.

“I’ve never been one tae be a fool, Ken, but I have been.

And I canna stand another day o’ it. I canna look at her any longer and know I canna speak tae her.

I canna stand another night o’ eating in the hall and not being able tae sit wit’ her. I must go. For me own sanity, I must.”

Kendrick nodded faintly, feeling sorrow for his friend.

For the past four days, he and Beaux and Caspian had all felt Jamison’s sorrow.

It had been a painful thing to watch but they all knew that Jamison would have to be the one to recognize the situation and make the decision to go.

They weren’t sure how long it would take but, now, Kendrick had the answer.

The longer Jamison remained, the more painful the situation was becoming.

“If ye’re sure,” he said quietly. “When do ye want tae leave?”

“This morning. As soon as I can gather me things.”

Kendrick could see he meant it. “I’ll find the others,” he said. “We’ll meet ye here in the stable yard and go as soon as ye’re ready.”

Jamison simply turned away, heading back out of the stable yard, feeling a sense of grief as well as a sense of relief.

He would be heading home and, hopefully, in the time it took to get there, he could clear his head of the love he’d lost. He never knew he could hurt so much but in making the decision to finally leave, his anguish was somehow intensified.

No longer would he be seeing Havilland around the castle.

No longer would he be able to look at her, to feast his eyes on her when he knew she wasn’t looking.

God, it wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t healthy for him in the least. Therefore, he knew he’d made the right decision and he tried not to be miserable about it.

Heading into the keep, he made his way into the solar that also served as a bedchamber.

His area was neat, as was Tobias’, but Thad had managed to throw his possessions everywhere again.

It looked as if an animal was living in his corner.

Chuckling at the messy knight, it was the first thing in four days that had brought a smile to his lips.

But as he began packing his possessions, his thoughts began to turn to Tobias.

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