The Falconer's Daughter - Liz Lyles Page 0,4

worked the blade in long smooth strokes. “She never said much after that. She couldn’t wait to have the baby and then she couldn’t wait to die.”

“Give the child to me. His lordship can provide for her. He can give her all the things you haven’t got. He can make sure she’ll have both name and position—”

“Like he did for his own daughter?” His lower lip curled, black lashes shadowing his eyes. “Anne chose me because she didn’t want to go to Castile and she didn’t want the Netherlands. She didn’t love me. It was the opportunity to escape that appealed to her. She craved change, but only if she could choose it, mold it.” He dug hard with the blade. “I loved Anne—not that it mattered—and I’ve feelings for the babe.”

“So you’re telling me no?”

“I’m telling you to tell the Duke that as I’m the father, I’ll raise her here.”

“What good can you do her?” There was more than a hint of contempt in the question. Geoffrey Mclnnes had grown up in circumstances much like Kirk Buchanan’s. The villages were full of peasant children who needed more than a warm meal and a fire. They needed a future. Both of them had found work but that didn’t make things equal. “It is your pride speaking, not your sense. If you gave her to his lordship she’d have everything—a name, a position, an income. Why deprive her of so much?”

“I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any of it.” Kirk rose unsteadily, glancing in the sleeping babe’s direction. The wee thing lay across the straw mattress, one arm flung out as if to keep the bad dreams at bay. He knew that face, the tousled head, the tiny hands and feet as if they had been traced against his eyelids, dreaming her in his sleep. “She is all that I have.” He said simply. “How could I let her go?”

“You treated your birds better, Buchanan.”

Kirk looked away, silent. There was nothing for him to say, nothing for him to do.

No one would ever know what he had already suffered. No one would ever know what it was like to watch Anne die.

Geoffrey sighed. “Can you at least agree to send word twice a year? Can I tell him that? He needs something.” He glared at Kirk, perplexed and frustrated. “Come on, man, you’re not the only one hurting!” He stood in irritation, gathering his outer cloak with the thick fur-lined hood. “He’s an old man, Kirk. Can you not see that, can you not put yourself in his position?”

“Why? Has he ever put himself in mine?” The falconer laughed harshly and the babe stirred, turning over on the ticking with a slight cry. Kirk walked over to her bed, kneeling down to pull the coverlet over her shoulder. She buried her black head deeper into the mattress and fell back asleep.

“He is the Duke.” Mclnnes shrugged. He was tired. Anxious to be home. “If I leave now I can make it down the mountain in a couple hours. I’ll camp at the base and then travel tomorrow to the village. My horse is there.” The Macleod page slipped his arms through the fur-lined cloak, tightening a belt about his waist.

“Take care. It grows late.”

“And I’d be careful, Kirk, if I were you.” Geoffrey opened the latch on the door, bracing himself for the cold temperatures outside.

“What is that?” Buchanan stood, towering at least two heads taller than the other.

Mclnnes swung the door open, blinking at the sudden chill. “Macleod isn’t one to trifle with. If he wants the girl…” his voice trailed off momentarily, “she is, after all, his granddaughter.” Geoff clapped his gloved hands together once, twice, glancing down the mountainside to the glen far below. “You don’t want trouble.”

“I’m not looking for any.”

“Just be careful.” The page waved once and then jogged slowly through the drifts to the edge of the snow-covered meadow. With a final wave, he began the descent.

The night swallowed the croft into its vast darkness, the sky blanketed with clouds which hid the mood. Inside the croft, firelight flickered across the dirt-packed floor, spreading shadows against the walls. Ever since Mclnnes’ departure yesterday afternoon, Kirk had sat brooding over his whittling. He could hear the babe playing in the far corner even though he couldn’t see her in the dark interior. She was talking baby talk, a mixture of words and sounds that he could not yet identify. Would she be safe enough here?