Keeper of my Heart (5 page)

His voice echoed her name once as she made her way across the courtyard to the small enclosure where Kenneth kept the horses. When she reached the far side of the pen, she rested her arms on the wooden barrier and lowered her forehead. She’d never felt so confused in her life. She’d never felt so alone.

“Are you all right, mistress?”

Kenneth’s voice came as a whisper from the shadows.

“I let the MacAlister kiss me. After all my mother’s warnings, I let him kiss me.”

Kenneth didn’t say words to comfort her or chastise her. A window opened in her mind and Màiri saw that Kenneth knew exactly what she’d let the MacAlister do. He stepped beside her and leaned against the wood planks that penned the horses.

“Does your gift na tell you anything?”

“Nay. My gift fails me where the MacAlister is concerned. I feel na warning. I feel na danger. I only feel a burning I have never felt before. It is the burning my mother warned me of, isn’t it?”

“Ah, lass.”

Màiri worried her lower lip and raised her gaze to the full moon in the sky. “Why does my gift tell me nothing where he is concerned, Kenneth? It has never been like this before. The warnings for others come without my bidding. Now, I feel nothing except a strange confusion when he is near.”

“What will you do, lass?”

“We will leave for the convent in two days, then you can take the MacAlister home to MacAlister Castle. I can stay here with him na longer. In time what we shared will na matter.”

“Are you sure you want to stay in the convent?”

Màiri fought the panic in her breast. “Aye, Kenneth. Now more than ever.”

Kenneth stood beside her in the moonlight a while longer, then turned to go back to the cottage.

“Kenneth? Do you think my father has given up his search for me?” she asked hopefully.

“Perhaps.”

She hugged her arms around her middle. Even though his answer held promise, her gift saw it for the lie it was. Her father would never give up his search to find her.

Kenneth walked away, leaving her to stare up into the moonlit sky, remembering the tale of the fairy gathering moon dust. Her eyes misted as she thought of all the lonely nights she’d stared into the sky waiting for the fairy to sprinkle her with magic. All the nights she’d waited for the fairy to come to answer her wish.

Her wish hadn’t come true then as it would not now. She would never be like others. Her gift would always make her different. If she let herself feel anything for the Scot, the time would come when he would hate her as her father had hated her mother. As her father still hated her.

Màiri stared at the moon as tears swam in her eyes. She had only a few more days to keep away from the Scot and make sure he did not hold her again.

She had a lifetime to try to forget his kisses. It would take that and more.

. . .

Màiri wrapped the food she’d prepared into bundles, then placed each package into the two woven baskets that would be tied to either side of the small mare along with the few supplies they would take with them. They would leave in the morning.

The preparations were almost complete. All that was left was to eat the cold meal she had left out for tonight and go to bed early so they could start out fresh and well rested. Màiri stepped away from the low table where she’d wrapped her last bundle and rubbed her neck and shoulders. By the saints she was tired. Maybe tonight she would be so exhausted she would fall asleep without thinking of how the Scot had held her in his arms and kissed her.

Perhaps tonight she would be able to close her eyes without seeing his face in her dreams.

She lifted her gaze to watch Kenneth check the horses a final time. The MacAlister Scot stood in the pen beside him, rubbing a soft cloth down the flanks of the two mammoth steeds Kenneth had found the day after the MacAlister had been attacked. He gave the same attention to her small mare and Kenneth’s speckled roan.

For the second time since she’d been watching, the MacAlister leaned his forehead against Kenneth’s horse and clung to the mane as if he needed help to stay on his feet. She’d already made up her mind to avoid him, or she would have gone to his side and made him sit down until he felt better, although she doubted her presence would be appreciated. Since the night they’d shared their kiss, his attitude toward her had been just as distant. He would no doubt choose to suffer in silence rather than ask her for anything. She would have to remember to make him a potion laced with the feverfew and take the rest of the powder with them when they left in the morning.

“Have you finished with the food, lass?” Kenneth hollered across the courtyard. His gaze showed a hint of concern as he looked from her to the Scot who had stopped to lean against the top board of the pen.

“Aye, Kenneth. All is packed except the last bundle. I will wait and put anything we have left after we break our fast in the morning.”

“You had best come here and see if there’s enough room left for what we will take from the cottage.”

Màiri walked over to where Kenneth and the Scot stood, knowing full well Kenneth did not want her there to check anything except the Scot. When she reached where he stood, Iain lowered his head between his arms braced against the board and swayed slightly.

Màiri grabbed for him, feeling him move unsteadily in her arms. “Are you all right, milord?”

“The earth has moved beneath my feet more than once today.”

“Perhaps you had best rest for a while.”

“There is much to be done yet. Kenneth needs help.”

“Then I will help him. Put your arm around my shoulder and come with me. I will make you a potion and when you wake you will feel better.”

She lifted his arm around her shoulder and walked him to the cottage. “Have you felt this way before today?” she asked, trying hard to ignore the heat that raged through her body wherever he touched her. She swore he would never do this to her again.

“Aye. Yesterday for just a little while, but it went away before we ate our evening meal.”

Màiri led him to the bed and placed her hand on his forehead before she went to the hearth to warm the ale. “You do na feel fevered. Perhaps you only need to rest.” She mixed the feverfew in the ale and took it back to him.

“Have you slept any better than I, Agatha?”

Màiri ignored his meaning and placed the cup in his hand. “Here, drink this then lay down until we come in to eat. Mayhaps you will feel better by then.”

“I heard you up during the night more than once.”

“I am only concerned about all we have to do before we can leave.”

“You are not a very convincing liar.”

Màiri pulled the covers from the bed and stood away from him. “Finish your potion, milord, and lay down.”

When he finished, she took the cup from him and covered him with the woolen blanket. She wanted to wait at his side until he fell asleep but it was not safe. His presence was too disturbing. His understanding too keen. Instead, she backed out of the cottage and worked with Kenneth until the sun sank in the sky.

When she and Kenneth came in for their evening repast, the Scot was still asleep. They gathered some cold meat and bread and cheese and sat out under the stars, leaving the Scot to rest. It would be hard enough for him to sit a horse if he was healthy. Impossible for him if the earth still moved beneath him.

. . .

Màiri rose well before either Kenneth or the MacAlister Scot were awake. She walked out into the pre-dawn morning and looked up into the sky. Would that every day could be as clean and wonderful. But it could not. That was why she had no choice but to live with the sisters in a convent. And she was more than ready.

Once they left here, there would be no turning back. She would never have to see the look of fear on another person’s face. She would never have to fear being labeled a witch or sorceress. She would never have to live with the rejection her mother had lived with her entire life.

She looked up into the sky, glad to leave this life behind her. If only she had never kissed her Scot. If only she had never tasted his lips that once.

Màiri blinked back the tears that wanted to form in her eyes then turned to go back to the cottage. Before she could take her first step, Iain’s blood-curdling cry stopped her heart from beating in her breast.

“Agatha! Agatha!”

Màiri ran across the courtyard, fearing to find her Scot dying if not already dead. She reached the front of the cottage just as he stepped out from behind the door. The wide-eyed look on his face radiated an elation she could not put into words. He grabbed her in his arms and twirled her around in the air. When he lowered her feet to the ground he cupped her face in the palms of his hands and kissed her hard.

“Ah, Agatha,” he said, touching her face as if putting it to memory. “You are the most beautiful sight in the world. I could drown in your eyes. They are the most incredible shade of green I have ever seen.”

Màiri stepped back from him, realizing it was already too late to run. “You can see?”

“Aye. I can see! I am na longer blind.”

Màiri cast a glance to Kenneth standing at the side of the cottage. One hand rested on the hilt of his sword, the other on the dagger at his waist. Blind, Iain MacAlister had been a threat only to Màiri’s heart. Now he was a much more dangerous adversary.

If he discovered her identity, she would have saved his life only so Kenneth could take it.

Iain led their tiny procession through the Scottish countryside, following a bubbling stream that would eventually take them to the convent. No matter how often he turned around to look at her, she did not look any more rested than before. Her expression seemed more drawn, her complexion more sallow, and the circles beneath her eyes a little darker. The worry etched on her face did not go away, but seemed more defined with each rise they topped.

Kenneth stayed at her side, his hand resting on the hilt of the dagger at his waist while his gaze constantly scanned the surrounding groves of trees as if searching for unsuspecting hiding places. The shared looks that passed between them seemed strangely reminiscent of a silent reassurance, claiming each safely covered step a milestone accomplished. It seemed as if they both worried more about a danger they would recognize than the faceless brigands who had left four of his fellow MacAlisters dead. Iain watched the perimeters with as much caution as Kenneth. He would not be taken unawares again.

They’d traveled since early this morning, stopping only once for their midday meal, but that had been hours ago. He’d noticed then that she’d eaten very little, picking at their fare of cold meat and bread and cheese with little enthusiasm. Now, the sun sank low as it began its descent and he looked behind him as Agatha rolled her shoulders then swayed atop her horse. The little sleep she’d gotten last night had obviously not prepared her for the long hours of traveling today.

“Are you all right, Agatha?” he asked, slowing his mount until he rode next to her. Kenneth kept his hand on the hilt of his dagger while he checked the surrounding open space, but did not move away from them. Since Iain he had regained his sight, Kenneth had stayed at her side as if he thought she might need as much protection from him as from any unseen forces.

“Aye, I am fine.”

“You look weary. Perhaps we should stop for the night?”

“Nay. We can go a little while yet. There’s much daylight left.”

He felt his temper rising. “You are too tired.”

“We must reach the convent by tomorrow.”

“You are that anxious to start your life with the sisters?”

She turned her face from him. “Aye. I am that anxious.”

He followed her gaze as she watched a small squirrel scamper across the meadow then run up one of the huge, old trees on the edge of the dense wooded area to their right. He felt that, given the chance, she would not hesitate, but leap from her horse and follow the animal to hide in the forest.

“Aren’t you just as anxious to get home?” she asked, turning back to him.

“Aye. Only I wish I were na leaving behind me the graves of the four loyal friends who had traveled wi’ me.”

The look in her eyes bespoke a regret he could not explain. “You should na have come here.”

“I had na choice.”

“It was that important to do the MacBride’s bidding?”

“Peace was that important to me. It still is.”

“And the MacBride offered you peace if you would rid him of his daughter?”

Her words held a coldness that sent a shiver down his spine. “Why do you say the laird wanted to be rid of his daughter? You were her maidservant. Was she that disagreeable, this Màiri MacBride?”

“To her father she was. He would have given half of everything he owned to be rid of her.”

Iain raked his fingers through his hair. Then why had the MacBrides attacked him? “If they were so desperate to have her gone, then why did they try to kill me?”

“Are you sure it was the MacBrides who attacked you?” she asked, studying his face. “Were the men wearing MacBride colors?”

“Nay, but who else could it have been? The MacBrides and MacAlisters have feuded for years. Mayhaps the MacBride laird is more of a traitorous coward than I thought.”