Home > Books > The Winter Sea (Slains, #1)(145)

The Winter Sea (Slains, #1)(145)

Author:Susanna Kearsley

Moray had been stubborn in his arguments against Lord Griffin staying, but the Englishman had not relented, and in the end the matter had been settled only after Gordon had exploded, ‘Christ, man, I may turn you in myself and claim the ransom if you do not let it lie.’ And then, recovering his temper, he’d reminded Moray, ‘You once told me it was not a soldier’s place to ask who gave an order, but to follow it. Cannot you follow this one?’ Low, he’d added, ‘For her sake, if no one else’s.’

Like combatants locked in equal battle both the men had held each other’s gaze in silence for a moment. Slowly, Moray’s hand had lifted and he had replaced the small black pebble on its cord about his neck, as though it were the only armor he had need of. And he’d given one brief nod.

Sophia stared at Captain Gordon as he stood, still with his back to her, against the curving bay of windows in the Leopard’s cabin. She had not said a word through all his tale, so tightly gripped had she been by her own emotions.

Gordon said, ‘We got him off all right. With all the rum that flowed upon our decks that night my men were in no state to notice anything besides their own debauchery. He should by now be well into the crossing.’

Sophia knew that there was nothing she could say that would be adequate, and yet she felt the need to tell him something. ‘Captain Gordon…’ But she faltered as he turned, and only asked, ‘Do you still have Lord Griffin in your care?’

‘No. He was taken by the soldiers just this morning. I can only pray that he was right to think the queen will show him mercy.’

Looking at his face, she felt ashamed that she had thought that such a man could turn a traitor. ‘Captain Gordon,’ she began again, ‘I hope you can forgive me for—’

He raised a hand to cut short her apology. ‘It is forgotten.’ Glancing one more time across the harbor to the ruin of the Salisbury, he said, ‘At any rate, you were quite right on one account.’ His eyes came back to hold her own, intent. ‘The things I did that night were not all done because of duty. They were done for you.’

She was silent for a moment in the face of that admission. It was hard to know a man could care so much for her that he would risk his whole profession, risk his life, while knowing that she did not, could not, answer his affection. In a quiet voice Sophia said, ‘I am so sorry.’ And they both knew she was speaking of much more than her unfounded accusations.

Captain Gordon, still the gentleman, released her with the words, ‘You have no need to be.’ He paused, then in a lighter voice remarked, ‘In truth, I do admire your courage coming here to challenge me. I do not doubt you would have found the means to travel all the way from Slains, if you’d been called to do it.’

She smiled faintly at the charge. ‘I might have done.’

‘But I am glad that you are not now in the north.’ He crossed to pour them each a glass of claret. ‘And not only for the fact it has afforded me the pleasure of this visit, but because I fear the English will demand a heavy price for what has happened here.’

She drank, and tried to wash away the bitter taste of tea. ‘The king escaped,’ she said. ‘It may be that his ships will take him north where they may find a better landing-place.’

‘Perhaps.’ His eyes were older than her own. ‘But if he fails, there will be evil times ahead, and it will be as well for you,’ he said, ‘that you are not at Slains.’

Graham turned his head towards mine on the pillow, half-asleep. ‘Lord who?’

‘Lord Griffin. He was on the Salisbury, I think. An old man, English, who had been at Saint-Germain…’

‘Oh, him.’ He placed the name and rolled more fully over to his side so that his arm slid round my waist, a now familiar weight. I liked the way it felt, just as I liked the rumble of his voice against my neck. ‘What did you want to know?’

‘What happened to him after he was taken by the English? Was he ever tried for treason?’

‘Aye, and sentenced for it.’

‘So he was beheaded, then?’ The penalty for treason in those times was inescapable. I didn’t know why that small fact should bother me so much—I’d read reports of countless executions in the course of researching my novels, and I knew that it was just another end result of wars and royal intrigues. But I couldn’t think of this one without seeing in my mind that old man sitting with his back against the Leopard’s slanting wall, and saying he would stay, that he would not be harmed, Queen Anne would never—