Keeper of my Heart (10 page)

“Are you tired?”

His words startled her and she grabbed the edge of the saddle to steady herself. “A little. Will we reach MacAlister Castle soon?”

“Aye. It will na be long. Should we stop and rest for a while?”

“Nay. I am fine.”

“I can see that by the pale color of your face. Lean toward me,” he said, riding his horse close to hers and holding out his hand to touch her forehead. “You will be home soon.”

Home.

A chill as cold as a harsh highland winter raced from her fingertips to her toes. Would life in Iain’s keep be any different than the life from which she’d run? Would Iain’s clan fear her as the MacBrides had? How long would it take for her husband to realize the mistake he’d made in marrying her and forbid his people to speak to her, as her father had?

Before, or after he’d gotten her with child?

Màiri pushed the panic aside and longingly cast a look behind her toward the direction they’d come. His voice startled her and she spun around.

“It is too late to seek a life with the sisters, Màiri. We have already spoken the vows.”

She lowered her gaze to her hands. “But our marriage has not been consummated. It is na too late. If you petitioned the church for a special—”

“Nay! You are my wife now. You will na ever think of leaving me.”

His words were harsh. She stiffened her spine and stared ahead, refusing to let him intimidate her.

“Did you know your father had betrothed you to me?” he said, his voice softer. “Is that why you ran away?”

“Nay. I did na imagine he would ever betroth me.”

“Why? You are his daughter.”

“A fact he preferred to forget.”

“Were you close to your mother?”

The breath caught in her throat. “Aye.”

“What was she like?”

The pressure tightened in her chest. “She was a kind and gentle woman who wanted only to love and be loved.”

“Your father did na love her?”

“My father is incapable of loving anyone, save perhaps himself.”

“Even his daughter?”

“Especially his daughter.”

“And you fear I will be the same?”

She flashed him a defiant glare. “I fear nothing, milord. Especially what your feelings for me will be. Do na forget. You forced this marriage. I did not.” She needed to change the subject. “Are we almost to your home now?”

There was a gaping silence that caused a small shiver to race down her spine before he answered. When he did, his voice held the sharpness of a sword cutting through the sweetness of honey.

“Aye. We’ve been on MacAlister land since early this morning. MacAlister Castle is just over that next rise.”

His words surprised her. If they had been on MacAlister land since early this morning, she could not fathom the land her husband possessed, and the wealth. What could he have possibly hoped to gain from a marriage to her? It couldn’t have been her dowry. She doubted there had even been one. Her face warmed with embarrassment. “Why did you choose me for your wife? Why not some other laird’s daughter?”

“Because I want peace. It’s time to end the feud between the MacAlisters and the MacBrides. Enough innocent people have given their lives.”

“You risked much bartering for my hand in exchange for peace.”

He looked off in the distance as if the topic of his betrothal was as mundane as discussing the weather. “I did na barter for your hand. I did na even know the MacBride had a daughter. I offered your father land in exchange for peace but he gave me you instead.”

Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach. Her father had refused land for the chance to pass his daughter and her curse to his enemy. “Did you na think it was strange that a man known for his greed would turn down an offer for more wealth and proffer his daughter instead?”

His glare held rigid with pride. “I would have taken the bane of all Scotland as my wife to ensure peace with the MacBrides.”

“Are you sure that is na what you have gotten?”

“If it is, then I will turn my back on her and search until I find the sweet Agatha I came to care for when I was blind. She is sure to be close by.”

“Perhaps your Agatha is lost to you forever.”

“Nay, not forever. If I do na find her in my keep, I am sure to find her in my bed.”

The smile on his face turned her cheeks to fire.

His laughter echoed in the quiet Scottish air. “We will na remain strangers for long. You will see.”

Màiri could not find her voice to speak for a while. What he said set her heart racing. His threat was as certain as a promise. She would not escape his bed another night.

They rode in silence over the next rise then another, and when she could avoid him no longer, she turned to him. To her mortification, she found him watching her, the look on his face filled with anticipation. In her nervousness, she said the first thing that entered her head. “What made the MacAlisters and MacBrides enemies?”

“You do na know? Your father has never told you?”

She shook her head.

“Then it is na important between us either.”

“I would like to know.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “Very well. Your father and mine were friends growing up. They even fought the English at each other’s side. Your father was severely injured and would have died if my father had na saved him.”

Màiri stared at him, hardly able to believe the MacBrides and MacAlisters could ever have been friends. Her father had never found one good word to say about the MacAlisters.

“When your father returned home, he found out he’d been betrothed to a lass from a neighboring clan. Because he was na healed enough to fetch his bride himself, he asked my father to go in his stead. My father was the only one he would trust with his intended.”

“Your father brought my mother here?” A slight smile curved Iain’s lips upward, and her stomach flipped when he looked at her. Lord, but he was handsome.

“Nay. He brought
my
mother.”

Màiri couldn’t hide her confusion. “I do na understand.”

“During the long journey here, they fell in love. My father found a priest along the way and married your father’s betrothed.”

“I’m surprised my father did na kill your father for betraying him.”

He laughed. “He would have, I’m sure. But he owed my father for saving his life. He repaid the debt by not killing my father, but vowed that from that day on, there would be nothing but strife between the MacBrides and the MacAlisters. Your father has been true to his word all this time.”

A weight as heavy as a rock fell to the pit of her stomach. Now she understood. “That is why my mother always said she was never truly chosen. Father told her more than once she was not the one he wanted.”

“I can see where your father made your mother’s life unbearable at times.”

Màiri turned away from him. Even his wildest imagination could not countenance how unbearable her mother’s life had been. How unbearable her own life had been.

“Were they happy?” she asked, truly wanting to know.

“Oh, aye. They were happy. I do na remember much about my mother. I was only five when she died, but my father made sure both Roderick and I knew what a wonderful woman she was.”

“How did she die?”

“Giving birth to Roderick. I do na think my father was ever the same after that. Her name was the last word he spoke before he died.”

Màiri stared at her husband, wondering what it would be like to be loved like that. “How old were you when your father died?”

“Nineteen.”

She could not hide her surprise. “You have been laird since you were nineteen?”

His look turned serious. “Aye. The elders met and decided I would be their laird. The MacAlisters voted and I became their laird.”

“Why did the MacAlisters vote? Wasn’t it enough that the elders decided?”

“I demanded a vote be taken. Everyone twelve and over had a say in who would be their next laird.”

She knew the expression on her face matched the confusion she felt. “I have never heard of such a thing. What if a small number of MacAlisters would have wanted someone else to be their laird?”

“If even one MacAlister would have wanted a different laird, I would na have accepted the honor.”

“Only one?”

“At nineteen, I could na have dissension within the clan. A good laird will always do what is best for his people. Even if it means stepping down as their leader.”

He turned his head to watch the way ahead and kept up his steady pace with Kenneth a short distance behind. Neither spoke again until they topped the next rise. He stopped his horse and pointed to a castle sitting in the distance. “What do you think of your new home?”

It was magnificent.

She stared at the massive stone castle sitting high on the ridge, then looked back at him in open-mouthed wonder. She could not find the words to tell him how the sight impressed her.

“I know,” he said with a smile on his face. “I feel the same way each time I look at it. Is it any wonder I would do anything to protect it?”

A small movement behind a large tree near the stream caught his eye. “My warriors have been watching us since we crossed our border. I think they are na sure who I am. I am supposed to be dead, you know.”

Màiri did not tell him she’d sensed a disturbance long ago but since her gift had nothing on which to focus she did not know what it was. Now she knew. “And will they be pleased to have their laird back?”

He raised his eyebrows and lifted the corners of his mouth. “You will have to judge their reaction for yourself.”

His smile softened the features of his face, making him appear dangerously handsome. For a moment he did not seem nearly so daunting. A faint warning told her she could not let herself notice this softer side to him. It would be too dangerous.

From the trees to the right, four men rode toward them. The remaining warriors stayed behind in readiness. The four approaching them wore the MacAlister plaid and had broadswords strapped to their backs and a dagger at their waist. She knew the moment they recognized their laird. Their faces brightened and they pushed their horses faster. Màiri could sense their excitement.

Iain held out his hand to indicate she and Kenneth should stop, and waited for the warriors to reach them. When Iain called to them, the men raised a fist in the air and let out a joyous shout, then thundered across the meadow at full speed.

From the trees nearby, scores of MacAlister warriors swarmed the countryside. Màiri watched as their faces changed from shocked disbelief to amazed excitement with the realization that their laird had come back to them. Shouts of joy filled the Scottish air, building in thunderous celebration, the explosion of jubilation almost deafening. They’d believed their laird was dead and were overjoyed to have him back.

The four men who rode close obviously held positions of some importance. Iain extended his hand when they approached and clasped the oldest warrior’s arm. The warm look they exchanged expressed an emotion that surpassed ordinary friendship while their eyes misted with a display of open affection. Màiri had never seen such a showing for a laird from his clansmen.

“Greetings, Donald,” Iain said, keeping his hand clasped around the older man’s forearm. “I fear I have given you a fright.”

Donald laughed. “A most welcome fright. We thought you dead. The men Roderick sent out to search for you found only graves. They came back with the news you had all perished.”

“Leod and Torcul and Richard and Allan were killed. I alone survived.”

“Was it the MacBrides?”

“I do na know. The MacBride laird swears they had nothing to do with the attack.”

“And you believe him?”

“I have na reason not to, but I will na rest until I avenge the deaths of those who went with me. Whoever is responsible will na go unpunished.”

The older man called Donald nodded, then turned his attention to Màiri. Kenneth had ridden close and sat beside her with his hand on his sword. She wanted to assure him they had nothing to fear. Her gift told her she was safer here than she’d ever been with her father.

“This is my wife, Donald, the MacBride’s daughter, Màiri.”

The warrior Donald smiled, then placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head. “Welcome, mistress. I swear to you this day my fealty and my life for your health and protection.”

Màiri acknowledged his oath with a nod of her head. “Thank you, Donald. I will cherish your loyalty and pray you always find me deserving of your fealty.” A warm feeling enveloped her. Such an emotion was uniquely strange to her and she swallowed hard to hide her confusion.

“And these small Scottish weaklings,” Iain continued, indicating the three giants facing him, “are Donald’s sons. This is Lachlan,” he said, pointing to a broad-shouldered man of about twenty-five summers with dark hair like his father and a twinkle in his eyes. Lachlan placed his hand over his heart and swore his fealty the same as his father.

“This is Conan.” Iain nodded toward the second brother who looked younger, yet appeared larger than Lochlan. Conan boasted a handsome face with a ruddy complexion that set off his red hair and deep blue eyes that glowed with the same mischievous glint as his brother. Conan swore fealty to his laird’s wife with the same sincerity as his father and brother before him.