Part 41 (1/2)

The gathering moved out of Brod.i.c.k's way as he strode over to the trees where Judith had left his horse. He had almost reached his destination before he realized his mount was gone.

Brod.i.c.k had an incredulous look on his face when he whirled around. ”By G.o.d, she's done it again,” he roared to no one in particular. He couldn't seem to make sense out of the insult Judith had given him by taking his horse. The fact that the stallion actually belonged to Iain didn't make any difference, either.

”Lady Judith didn't steal your horse,” Winslow called out. ”She only borrowed it. Those were her words to me when she arrived here, and I imagine she still believes-”

Winslow couldn't go on. His laughter got in his way. Iain had more discipline. He didn't even smile. He gained his mount, then put his hand down to Brod.i.c.k. The warrior was about to swing himself up behind his laird when Bryan, an older man with hunched shoulders and bright orange hair, took a step forward. ”The woman didn't steal your mount and you shouldn't be thinking she did, Brod.i.c.k.”

Brod.i.c.k turned around to glare at the man. Then another soldier shoved his way to the front of the crowd. He took his position next to Bryan. ”Aye, Lady Judith was probably just in a hurry,” he said.

Yet another and another came forward to offer their reasons for Lady Judith taking the mount. Iain couldn't have been more pleased. The issue wasn't really the borrowing of the horse, of course. The men were letting it be known to their laird that Judith had won their support... and their hearts. She'd stood up for Isabelle and they were now standing up for her.

”She didn't have to help our Isabelle last night and she didn't have to come back here today to answer Father Laggan's questions,” Bryan stated. ”You won't be speaking ill of Lady Judith, Brod.i.c.k, or you'll answer to me.”

A stiff wind would have knocked Bryan over, so feeble was he in strength, yet he courageously challenged Brod.i.c.k.

”h.e.l.l,” Brod.i.c.k muttered, his exasperation obvious.

Iain did smile then. He nodded to Judith's champions, waited until Brod.i.c.k had swung up behind him, and then goaded his mount forward.

Iain a.s.sumed Judith would go directly back to his brother's home. The horse wasn't out front, however, and he couldn't imagine where she'd gone.

He stopped his mount so Brod.i.c.k could drop to the ground. ”She might have ridden back up to the keep,” Iain remarked. ”I'll look there first.”

Brod.i.c.k nodded. ”I'll look down below,” he said. He started to walk away, then suddenly turned around again. ”I'm giving you fair warning, Iain. When I find her, I'm going to give her h.e.l.l.”

”You have my permission.”

Brod.i.c.k hid his grin. He waited for the catch. He knew Iain well enough to understand how his mind worked. ”And?” he prodded when his laird didn't qualify his agreement.

”You may give her h.e.l.l, but you can't raise your voice while you're at it.”

”Why not?”

”You might upset her,” Iain explained with a shrug. ”I can't allow that.”

Brod.i.c.k opened his mouth to say something more, then changed his mind. Iain had just taken all the bl.u.s.ter out of his indignation. If he couldn't yell at the woman, why bother lecturing her at all?

He turned around and started down the hill, muttering under his breath. Iain's laughter followed him.

Judith wasn't waiting for him at the keep. Iain backtracked, then took the path to the west that led up to the next ridge.

He found her at the cemetery. She was walking at a fast clip along the path that separated the sacred ground from the trees.

She had thought that a brisk walk would help her get rid of some of her anger over the ordeal she'd just gone through for Isabelle, and had come upon the cemetery quite by chance. Curious, she'd stopped to have a look.

The burial ground was really a very pretty, peaceful place. Tall wooden slats, newly whitewashed and standing as straight as lances, surrounded the cemetery on three sides. Ornately carved headstones, some arched, others square-topped, filled the interior in neat rows. Fresh flowers covered almost every other plot. Whoever had been given the task of looking after this final resting place had done his duty well. The care and attention was very evident.

Judith made the sign of the cross as she walked along the path. She left the cemetery proper and continued on up the narrow climb, past the line of trees blocking the sight of the valley below. The wind whistled through the branches, a sound she found quite melancholy.

The ground reserved for the d.a.m.ned was directly ahead of her. She came to an abrupt stop when she reached the edge of the stark burial ground. There wasn't any whitewashed fencing here, or any ornately carved headstones. Only weathered wooden stakes had been used.