The Intended by May McGoldrick Page B

vaguely
mumbled something about flowers and trees. And then I saw him going
off toward the orchards...”
    “Come with me, Mary,” Jaime said, pulling her
cousin by the hand.
    “What on earth...?”
    Jaime had been very careful about coming to
Malcolm this morning. Other than Mary, and Caddy, her maid, no one
in the house knew of her whereabouts. She trusted Master Graves,
the physician, but something inside her head told her that letting
Edward know she was here would be a terrible mistake.
    “Hurry, Mary! We must meet him somewhere
else...away from here!”
    Mary glanced back, and then nodded slowly as
her cousin’s concern dawned on her.
    “Ah! The Scot,” she said. They hadn’t gone
three steps, though, before Mary yanked Jaime to a halt. “But you
can’t go to Edward like that.”
    Quickly, she unfastened Jaime’s bloody cloak
and removed it, carefully rolling it up and even more carefully
holding it away from her own skirts. Placing it on a nearby cart,
she turned and tried to smooth her cousin’s hair. Disappointed with
the effort, Mary turned Jaime around, pulled the long black hair
over her shoulder, and began to braid it rapidly.
    “You’ve spent the entire day down here, coz.
Your cloak is stained with his blood. Your eyes are puffed up from
crying. Why are you so worried about this man?”
    Jaime felt her face redden as she lifted her
hands to her eyes. She was glad Mary was behind her. “I was the
cause of the beating he received at Norwich Castle,” she replied,
hedging her answer. She hoped desperately Edward would not notice
her condition.
    “There! Now you look at least somewhat
presentable.” Mary cast a critical eye over her cousin. “Smooth
your skirts. And...”
    Jaime grabbed the other woman by the hand.
“Come on, Mary. We must be away from here.” Jaime led her cousin
out of the stable enclosure and onto the tree lined drive that led
back toward the huge, rambling manor house. The gardens lay behind
the high hedges to the left, the orchards to the right of the
ornately designed flower beds. Acting on impulse, she pulled her
cousin down the lane to the left. The lane leading to the mews.
Jaime loved to hunt, and she spent a great deal of time with the
falcons that the duke kept. His two peregrines, gifts of the king
himself, were among the finest in England. In a moment the wall
enclosing the mews came into view.
    Evan, the duke’s falconer, was watching his
eldest son chop three freshly killed rabbits for the hawks when the
two women passed through the gate into the small yard in front of
the mews. He glanced up, smiling his crooked smile as he recognized
Jaime. The two hooded peregrines, black and strong, sat perched on
crossed stakes driven into the ground beside the falconer.
    “How is your wife, Evan?” Jaime asked
pleasantly.
    Evan bowed slightly and doffed his cap to
Mary. “A mite uncomfortable, mistress, as ye might expect, but due
any day, she tells me. Oh, she asked me to thank ye for sending in
the meals from the kitchens this past week. ‘Tis heavy work, her
moving about, and your kindness has been a godsend, to be
sure.”
    “No thanks are needed,” Jaime whispered as
she stepped over to one of the birds and began petting her
magnificent feathers.
    “Well, we thank ye all the same.” The
falconer nodded toward the peregrines. “Ye missed a fine day of
hunting today. His Grace stayed in, but some of the young gentles
made a jolly time of it.”
    “I’m sure Lord Edward must have enjoyed the
hunt!”
    “Nay, mistress,” Evan said, shaking his head.
“His Lordship has not been down all day.”
    Jaime hid her relief, gesturing toward the
rabbit. “The fruit of your labors, Evan?”
    “Aye, mistress,” Evan said gravely. “Just a
few of the little beasties that we knocked down today. The birds we
took went direct to the kitchens. We’ve still a couple of hours of
sunlight. Would ye care to take one of these ladies out,
mistress?”
    Jaime shook her head,