The Warrior Poet (44 page)

But he also knew
that the promise of peace was attractive to his brother's inherently sensitive
nature; Quinton could be indecisive and, at times, weak-willed, but he was a
good man with a pure heart. And Christian was desperate to reach that portion
of his brother's spirit.

"Do you
understand what I am saying, Quinnie?" he asked, his voice considerably
softer.
Pleading for the man's understanding.
"I
am weary of battle. I have never known a life without war, be it at home or on
the Welsh front defending Henry's and Edward's holdings. I don't want to fight
any more, little brother. I am tired of fighting."

Quinton's features
continued to soften and Christian realized it was because his brother and
Gaithlin had made eye-contact. After a moment, Quinton swiped at the remaining
blood on his upper lip in an almost pensive gesture.

"Do you
remember when you first saw her?" he asked quietly, tearing his eyes away
from Gaithlin and focusing on his brother.
"In the
Disputed Lands, swimming in a lake.
Do you recall?"

With the shock and
pain of betrayal fading, Christian smiled faintly at his exhausted, confused
younger brother. "You know I do. And do you remember what I said?"

Quinton nodded
vaguely. "That you would forgive her if she was the daughter of Lucifer
himself."

"What
else?"

"That you
believed yourself to be instantly in love," he licked his lip one last
time, removing all traces of blood. "Apparently, you were being truthful."

"Apparently,"
Christian glanced down at his wife, who was regaining some color to her cheeks.
Smiling gently, he carefully set her on weak legs. "Gae, this is my
brother, Quinton.
Hardly an appropriate circumstance for you
two to meet."

Gaithlin could
hardly look at the man much less greet him. The fear and hatred of the St. John
rabble returned full-force and she stared at the ground, averting her gaze from
Quinton's probing stare. Christian sensed her natural apprehension and
loathing, squeezing her reassuringly when she refused to look at her new
brother-in-law.

Even if she was
being deliberately evasive, Quinton continued to scrutinize her closely, seeing
under the clear moonlight that she was far more beautiful that he had
remembered. "We have been watching your camp for the better part of the
day," he said quietly. "We arrived just after you apparently returned
home from a small sojourn. I must say, I wasn't overly surprised when I
discovered who your blond captive was. We speculated her lineage the day you
first saw her."

Christian
nodded,
his arm protectively about Gaithlin's shoulders as
she practically climbed inside his clothing in an attempt to hide from the
cluster of St. John soldiers. "Even so, I was quite shocked to discover
who she was when I abducted her from St. Esk. By the way, has there been any
repercussions regarding my action?"

Quinton shook his
head. "Not a word. And no word from Alex de Gare, either. Either he
doesn't care that we have captured his daughter or he's too stupid to read the
missives delivered." When Gaithlin's head came up sharply, her eyes
blazing with fury, Quinton cleared his throat with regret at his bold,
unthinking statement. In fact, it was completely natural to belittle a de Gares
with any given chance. "As I said, we have received no reply to our...
accomplishment."

Christian patted
his wife's shoulder calmly, feeling her lanky body tensing against him at
Quinton's insult. "Alex is a proud man, Quinton. He may be waiting for the
appropriate moment to respond." Casting a glance into Gaithlin's
astonished eyes, astonished that he was obviously willing to continue the de
Gare charade, he released her shoulders and took her hand tenderly within his
own. Facing his brother with a measure bolstered
courage,
he attempted to gain the upper-hand on the situation.
"Now,
then.
I intend to return my wife to Winding Cross before announcing my
marriage to father. I believe it would be...."

For the first time
during the entire conversation, Jasper delved into the sibling dialogue. "We
have orders from Uncle Jean, Christian. And we must adhere to them, no matter
what other plans you may have made."

Christian's
apprehension made a swift return as he faced his massive, simple-minded cousin;
the man was a war-machine. His actions were based on the directives of his
commander and by those mandates alone; there was little compassion to his
manner and even less thought. He did as he was told, no matter what the given
circumstances. No matter if his orders were merciful or not, and Christian was
positive they was not.

"And what are
those?"

Quinton abruptly
turned an odd shade of white, his breathing gaining momentum as Jasper and
Christian focused on one another.

"That we
return you to Eden to face your father's judgment. And that we kill your
captive."

Immediately,
Christian thrust Gaithlin behind him. There would be no reasoning with Jasper
as there had been with Quinton; Jasper had his orders and he would carry them
out or die in the attempt. Christian knew him well enough to know that the hope
for a peaceful, bloodless conclusion had been dashed.

"Gae, retrieve
my sword.
Now."
'

Gaithlin gasped,
clutching her husband about the waist. "Christian, what...?"

"Do it!"
he roared.

Stumbling, Gaithlin
moved away from her husband, fear and panic welling within her mind. Even
though her head was throbbing and the world was still rocking, she clearly
understood that she and Christian were in a great deal of danger.

It was as she had
always feared; Christian's treacherous, selfless devotion would indeed cause
his own men to turn against him. Gasping with terror, she dashed across the
clearing, listening to Christian's roar of anger when his brother attempted to
follow her. More terror, more anxiety... tripping through the front door of
their shelter, she nearly knocked an equally frenzied Malcolm on his skinny
little bottom.

Gaithlin wasn't
afforded the opportunity to speak as astonishment and panic overwhelmed her.
Suddenly, Malcolm was thrusting a sword into her palm. "Give it tae Sir
Christian!" he commanded, shoving another battle weapon into her other
hand. "An' this is fer ye!"

Struggling to keep
her hysterics from raging out of control, Gaithlin accepted the weapons from
the young boy as if she were a warrior serving in battle. Head spinning and
chest heaving, she ran from the sod shelter as fast as her long legs would
carry her.

The sword and war
hammer were heavy as she raced across the clearing towards her husband and his
antagonistic family members. She could hear their muffled voices but was unable
to distinguish the words as she charged up, bearing two mighty weapons. A
tangible fury had begun to take root, displacing her panic and feeding off it
at the same time; how dare the St. John horde threatened her Christian when his
motives and his desires were truly noble! How dare they question his wisdom
when he is truly considering their future!

How dare they
reject his overture of peace!

Gaithlin had never
been afraid to use a weapon; clearly, Christian had discovered that from the
first. Bearing down on the three uneasy men, she shoved Christian's heavy
broadsword into the ground blade-first and brandished the war hammer with a
powerful, offensive grip.

"Get away from
him, you St. John bastards," she
seethed,
her
focus almost entirely on Jasper. "Move away from him or I shall cut your
damnable heads off."

All three men
looked to her, Christian moving away from his cousin and brother to retrieve
his impaled sword. Although Jasper's expression was still frozen in a menacing
glare, Quinton seemed entirely indecisive as he gazed steadily on his new
sister-in-law.

"My
lady," he began quietly. "You have to understand... we must do this.
Christian knows that we must follow my father's orders."

"Your father
is wrong," Gaithlin hissed, tightening her grip the hilt of the hammer.
"Your father is as stupid as mine when it comes to the welfare and regard
of his family. He cares not for peace or true contentment, but only the
hereditary triumph the Feud can bring him. And he doesn't care how he achieves
victory, only that it be attained."

Beside her, he
heard Christian's emotional sigh. "As I said, I shall... return with you
to Eden if you leave my wife in peace. I don't want her involved in any
bloodshed, Jasper. I will come with you peaceably."

Quinton nodded
faintly, feeling disoriented and drained. But Jasper would have no part of
Quinton's weakening stance; Christian could not convince him that his
treacherous actions had been correct as he had so easily swayed his foolish,
adoring younger brother.

Unsheathing his
sword, the entire company of men that had been hidden in the recesses of the
Wood suddenly stepped into the clearing, forming a half-circle around Christian
and Gaithlin. Malcolm, who had followed Gaithlin from the shelter with one dirk
in each hand, stared at the collection of soldiers with huge eyes; he had come
to help the lady defend her husband from the pair of evil warriors. He realized
that mayhap his bravery had not been entirely wise.

But he would not
back down from his protective stance; he was dedicated to the knight and his
lady to the death, and he swallowed hard as the English soldiers drew closer. He
wondered what it would feel like to have a sword driven deep into his fearless
little heart.

Meanwhile,
Christian had moved in front of Gaithlin, entirely focused on his mighty
cousin. "Don't do this, Jasper. I have no desire to kill you."

Jasper lowered his
visor. "I have my orders, Christian. Return you to Eden and kill your
captive."

"She's my
wife. I shall not allow you to kill her."

"She's a de
Gare."

Quinton put his
hands up as his brother and cousin squared off against one another.
"Christian's not wearing any armor, Jasper. This is hardly a fair
fight."

"Hold your
tongue, Quinton," Jasper's voice was low. "You have proven thus far
to be entirely weak-willed and disobedient to your father's directives. You
will allow me to handle the situation."

Quinton's jaw
ticked angrily as he faced his cousin. "I am in command, Jasper, not you.
You will do as I say."

Jasper's helmed
head turned in Quinton's direction. "And you are showing distinct
traitorous tendencies like your brother."

"Bite your
tongue, you bastard."

"You're
listening to his lies."

"They're not
lies. Only your stupid mind would be unable to make sense out of his sound
reasoning."

In spite of the
razor-sharp tension filling the chill night air of the Galloway clearing,
Christian found himself, as usual, intervening in a squabble between Jasper and
Quinton. "Enough!" he roared, waving his brother away irritably.
"Move away, Quinton, unless you want me to gore you too."

Amazingly enough,
Quinton kept silent. With the greatest of remorse and sorrow in his eyes, he
moved out of Christian's line of sight as Jasper properly distracted the man
with his imminent hazard.

Aye, Quinton was
weak-willed and foolish at times, mouthy and opinionated. But he was also
clever. And he knew there was only one way to prevent Christian and Jasper from
killing each other, no matter how covert or treacherous that method may be.
As his brother and cousin focused on one another in
battle-heightened determination, Quinton made his way towards an equally
distracted Gaithlin.
He had to take her; only then would his brother
surrender.

Gaithlin was so
preoccupied with her husband’s battle, in fact, that she never saw Quinton
approach. The next she realized, massive hands were grasping her war hammer and
she yelped with surprise and fear, struggling fiercely against Quinton's iron
grip. One moment, Christian was preparing to battle for her life; in the next,
she was waging her own mighty skirmish.

Christian heard her
grunts of panic and exertion. Puzzled, he tore his eyes off his powerful cousin
long enough to witness his brother and wife struggling viciously over the war
hammer. Suddenly terrified that Quinton planned to carry out her execution
while Jasper held his attention captive, Christian broke away from his
impending duel in a furious burst of speed and power.

Although caught up
in his own struggle with his remarkably strong sister-in-law, Quinton was not
so focused that he did not see his brother running at him with his sword held
high. Instantly, he released the weapon of struggle and scrambled for his own
sword, completely determined to defend himself from his brother's infuriated
wrath.

Unfortunately for
Quinton, he wasn't fast enough to reclaim his sheathed broadsword; Christian
brought his blade down, flat side, and caught Quinton on the upper arm. The
maneuver was indicative of Christian's skill with a blade; he had purposely
intended to shove his brother aside, not outright slice him to ribbons, and
Quinton immediately crashed to the ground from the force of the blow. Before he
could recover his footing, Christian had his wife by the arm and was pulling
her in the direction of the ancient sod shelter.