Page 81 of The Hawk Laird

“You must not.”

“I will,” she insisted. Then she suddenly understood. “Your freedom,” she whispered. “You have freedom here, and think you will not have it if I am here.”

“Not true. I want you. But I cannot keep you. You will forget me in time. We have different paths, you and I.”

An ache began in the center of her body, her being. “We have the same path. The same needs. Sanctuary. Love,” she whispered.

“If I had stayed simply the laird of Wildshaw, and you had been simply the Maiden of Aberlady—aye. But that is not what we are.”

“Jamie,” she said, taking his arm. “Do not do this.” She blinked away tears.

“Soft, you,” he murmured. “Hey, my lass. Look down there.”

She searched the forest, narrowed her eyes. “I see only trees. Your eyes are sharp as that hawk’s.”

“Quentin and Patrick are coming toward the crag. They are back quicker than I thought.”

After a moment she saw the distant figures running toward the crag. “I am afraid what tomorrow will bring,” she said.

He kissed her head. Then he turned and walked away to meet his friends, the hawk on his fist.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Father Hugh wantsto see Isobel in return for taking our message to Leslie,” Quentin said. “He is not assured of her safety from just our word.”

“We do need his help.” James looked at Isobel, who sat with them in the simple kitchen area of the broch, sharing a meal of barley and onion porridge.

“Father Hugh has always been careful on my behalf.” Isobel poured wine into cups for each. “Where is he now?”

“He rode to Wildshaw with our message,” Quentin answered. “We came back from Stobo with the priest and Geordie. Father Hugh says he will meet us in the morning to see Isobel. He will stop by the huge old oak along the road, the one near Alice’s house.”

“Good,” James said. “We can defend her there if he brings soldiers.”

“He swore to come alone,” Patrick said.

“Still, I do not like it,” James said.

“I must go if we are to free Janet,” Isobel said. She wiped crumbs off the stone table with her hand as she spoke, keeping busy. James was glad that she seemed to be more accepting of the plan to help Janet and her role in it. “I can go alone. I trust him.”

He wanted to reach out, keep her here as she asked, but he would not show it. He had held back his feelings from the start and would not upset the cart now. “I fear a trap. We will escort you.”

She shook her head. “You must stay away.”

“You will not go alone,” he said firmly, but knew she was bothered by the possibility of danger to him, as in her prophecy. He did not care about that.

“But I will not go with you, James Lindsay,” she said, and then rushed out of the room.

“What was that?” Quentin Fraser asked. “The lass is upset with you.”

James rubbed a hand over his eyes. “She is concerned—that they will try to take me.”

“She has a point. We will go with her, do not worry,” Patrick replied.

“Aye then. You two returned more quickly than I expected,” James said.

“We did what was needed and came back fast as we could. Jamie, in Stobo, two monks came from the abbey with a letter for Father Hugh,” Quentin went on. “One said Brother John Blair is making progress on his chronicle of Wallace’s life. They had news of some who might have betrayed Wallace.”

James looked up with keen interest. “Sir John Menteith is the name I have heard.”