Part 19 (1/2)
He sighed, his gaze going across the rapidly emptying hall. People weren't lingering to talk tonight. ” There's truth to what you say. My head knows that the prince has his share of weaknesses, but he's a born leader, and my Highland soul wants to raise a sword and shout to h.e.l.l with the Sa.s.senach.”
”Whichever side wins, Dunrath is protected, Duncan.” Jean grinned mischievously. ”If the government forces triumph, you get credit for loyalty. If the Jacobites carry the day, I'll say that you told me to take our men to the prince.”
He smiled reluctantly. ”You're right, of course. But it's hard to think politics when my only sister's life might be on the line.”
”Danger can be anywhere. You be careful, too.” She gave him a swift hug, then turned and walked away, an indomitable Highland lady.
As his sister disappeared up the stairs, a slender arm wrapped around his waist. He turned and embraced his wife. Apart from several servants clearing the table, they were the last two left in the hall. ”I had hoped it wouldn't come to this,” he said bleakly.
She rested her head against his shoulder, her soft hair tickling his chin. ”We're fortunate that the breach wasn't angrier. Jean will be all right, I think.”
”Physically, she will be unhurt,” he said with a touch of foreknowledge. ”But this rebellion will change her.”
”Life is change. She may be bruised, but she will not be broken.” Breaking away from Duncan, she said, ”Time to dowse the candles and go to bed.”
”Before you retire, may I beg a bed for the night?” a new voice asked.
Duncan spun around, startled. ”Dammit, Simon, you're too blasted good at stealth! Why the devil are you here?”
Lord Falconer grinned, debonair even in travel-stained riding clothes. He was a master at the spells that made mundanes look past him, plus the s.h.i.+elds that made it hard even for Guardians to sense his presence. Impossible, if they didn't know he was around. It was one of the reasons he was the council's chief enforcer. ”I was sent to talk to you, and carry you off on a mission, if you're willing.”
”Simon!” Gwynne swept forward and gave him a joyful hug. ”What a marvelous surprise!”
”G.o.d's breath, Gwynne, you've changed!” He almost shoved her away. ”An enchantress?” He drew a slow breath, then smiled crookedly. ”It's wonderful to see you, my dear girl, and I'm sure you have an exciting story to tell of how you discovered your power, but please s.h.i.+eld it or I fear for the consequences.”
”I'm so sorry!” Gwynne blushed and stepped back, muting her allure. ”I haven't yet acquired the habit of always s.h.i.+elding.”
Despite Simon's joking tone, Duncan saw that his friend had been badly rattled by Gwynne's unthinking embrace. As a Guardian, he was particularly susceptible to her powers of attraction. Wanting to ease the other man's embarra.s.sment, he said, ”Let's get you some food, and then we can talk.”
”Am I allowed to listen, or is this one of those male-only meetings?” Gwynne asked with a touch of tartness.
”Your presence is not only acceptable, but necessary,” Simon said. ”You are not unaffected by my mission. But no need for food-I've already eaten.”
”Then we'll go to my study for a claret.” As they headed up the stairs, Duncan asked over his shoulder, ”When did you arrive?”
”Just before your Jacobite hothead proposed his toast. Under the circ.u.mstances, I thought it best not to inflame the situation with my very English presence. So I wandered down to the kitchen and helped myself.”
Being Simon, he had been able to do that with no one noticing. Though given the drama at the dining table, a platoon of Highlanders could have marched through with bagpipes playing and no one would have noticed. ”Did you see what Jean did?”
”I did indeed. Your little sister has grown up.” There was a mixture of amus.e.m.e.nt, respect, and concern in his voice.
They spoke no more until they entered Duncan's study. As Gwynne poured claret for all three of them, Simon's head came up and he turned slowly, like a hound scenting the wind. ”The Pretender has been here.”
Falconer was very, very good. ”So he has,” Duncan agreed. ”The night we arrived at Dunrath, he walked into the middle of a ceilidh and introduced himself. We came up here and he attempted to enlist me in his cause.”
”Bold of him. And your answer?”
Gwynne replied as she brought the men their wine. ”Duncan said that the prince couldn't win, and he wished the blasted fellow would go home.”
Simon laughed. ”Surely you didn't call the prince a blasted fellow to his face.”
”No, but it was implied,” Duncan said as they seated themselves. ”He's a compelling and dangerous man, Simon.”
”That's why I'm here. As you must know, the Jacobite forces are marching into England.”
”And?” Duncan arched his brows when Simon hesitated. ”What has that to do with me?”
”The council would like you and me to shadow the prince's army. Not join it, but stay nearby so we can monitor events and be available if our powers are needed.”
Duncan's gaze went involuntarily to Gwynne. The thought of leaving his bride was almost unbearable.
She looked no happier than he, but she gave a slight nod of acceptance. Duty must always come first.
”Why both of us? So that you can curb any dangerous Jacobite tendencies I might have?” he asked dryly.
”If necessary. And equally so that you can curb my dangerous English tendencies. I despise the Stuarts for their arrogance and b.l.o.o.d.y-minded belief in their divine mission to rule. Between the two of us, we should achieve balance.”
Duncan's irritation faded. Balance was always a Guardian goal, and it made sense for the council to ask the two of them to work together. Presumably their long friends.h.i.+p would help them bridge their political differences. ”What is our aim-to reduce loss of life?”
One side of Simon's mouth quirked up. ”Yes, while naturally not altering the overall course of events. ”
”How is it possible to do both?” Gwynne asked. ”You may save the life of a man for mercy's sake, and later he could shoot one of the commanding officers on the other side and completely change the outcome of the rebellion.”
”Therein lies the problem,” Simon agreed. ”This is art, not science. War is the most difficult situation to balance. We must hope that we do more good than harm.”
”While knowing we can never be sure of that.” Duncan had made a study of Guardian attempts to mitigate the effects of war in the past. Given mankind's tendency toward violence there was no shortage of material, but also no coherent theory of how best to proceed. Every situation must be muddled through one step at a time.
”When will you leave?” Gwynne asked.
”Tomorrow,” Simon replied. ”The prince's force is nearly at Carlisle. There may be a siege. Plus, the government is starting to mobilize troops to come north and engage the Jacobites. Some kind of action is likely.”
So soon? Yet Simon was right. Distance made a difference for most forms of magic, and they needed to be close enough to evaluate the situation as it developed. ”Very well.” Duncan rose. ”Gwynne, do we have a guest room ready?”
”I'll show Simon to his room.”
Falconer stood, his face showing weariness now that he had achieved his aim. ”Gwynne, even with your s.h.i.+elds up, you radiate power like a bonfire. It's hard to believe all this developed since I saw you at your wedding, but the proof s.h.i.+nes around you. Have you discovered other exceptional powers beyond what most Guardians can do?”
”She a better scryer than you, and Isabel's gla.s.s awoke at her touch,” Duncan said with a touch of mischief. ”I await further developments with alarmed fascination.”
Gwynne smiled. ”I love that I have power now, but I'm not at all alarming. My talents are the quiet, feminine variety. I read people's energy well, am tolerably good at fa.r.s.eeing with the help of Isabel's gla.s.s, and I've learned to s.h.i.+eld well enough that I've only been abducted once.”
Simon's brows arched. ”Fascinating indeed. I look forward to learning more.” He covered a yawn. ” Tomorrow.”
Gwynne led him to the guest room while Duncan stayed in his study and jotted a list of matters to be addressed before he left. A good thing he had caught up with his affairs since returning to Dunrath.
The hardest part would be leaving Gwynne. The thought constricted his lungs and made breathing difficult. They shared her bedroom, and as he headed there his mind repeated, ”The last night, last night, last night.” He told himself that he wouldn't be gone long, perhaps no more than a fortnight, but he was already missing his wife and he wasn't even gone yet.