Keeper of my Heart Page 10

  “Then I will make sure you find some before your plate at every meal. You can eat them to your heart’s content.”

  “If I eat them at every meal, I fear I will na fit through the doorways in your keep, milord.”

  “Then I will build another keep with bigger doorways.”

  She rolled her eyes heavenward at his teasing remarks. She had never enjoyed herself so much in her whole life. She was living a fairy tale, each experience more enjoyable than the last. How was it possible that a husband could laugh and joke with his wife? She had never heard her father say even as much as a pleasant word to her mother. She had never even seen him look at her with anything but hatred in his eyes.

  Because of the gift.

  Iain smiled at her again, the look in his eyes filled with warmth. Could it be possible to live her life being so happy?

  Her heart skipped in her breast at the thought. Perhaps it was.

  She looked around the room and noticed that everyone seemed content. Living a life of such bliss was beyond her wildest dreams.

  She vowed again to do whatever she must to hide her gift.

  Another warrior rose to toast his laird’s good health and make the prediction that his new bride would bless him with a strapping young son to carry on the MacAlister name within a year’s time. Loud cheers echoed throughout the hall, and Màiri’s face warmed in embarrassment.

  “Little do they know, milady,” Iain whispered in her ear, “that if they do na cease their endless well-wishes and give us time to be alone, there will be little chance that I will ever get that son.”

  Màiri knew her face turned ten shades of red, and when Iain placed his arm around her shoulder, a fiery brand burned her flesh. To appease the ribald shouts demanding that their laird kiss his bride, Iain turned her face toward him and pressed his lips against hers. The deafening roar that echoed in the hall was almost as loud as her heart pounding in her head.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, holding her closer in a most possessive manner.

  “Aye, milord, but I am still waiting to glimpse the handsome warrior Hector I have heard so much about,” she said, searching for something to say that would take her mind off his nearness.

  “Very well, wife, I will point him out to you, but remember you are now a married woman.”

  “I will try, milord,” she said, looking as sincere as she could on such a festive occasion.

  He dropped his head back on his shoulders and laughed, then searched the room, looking for the warrior Hector. Iain found him and motioned for Hector to come forward.

  Màiri couldn’t believe her eyes. She’d thought from the start that her husband was the most handsome warrior in all of Scotland and she still did, but by the saints, the warrior walking toward her was a close second.

  His shoulders were broad and muscular, his magnificent stature surpassing almost every MacAlister in the hall. His towering height came near to matching Iain’s while his features were strong and noble. Every detail of Hector’s remarkable physique, from the dark, wavy hair on his head to the muscled calves of his bare legs, was flawless. She could understand the attraction every MacAlister lass had for him. She could not wait to meet the one he had chosen as his bride.

  “Hector,” Iain said, “I hear you are to wed.”

  The young warrior smiled shyly then answered. “Aye, milord. We are only waiting for the priest to return.”

  “Is your future bride here?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then bring her over so she can meet her mistress and receive my congratulations.”

  Hector’s face lit up as he bowed slightly then crossed the room to find the lass Agnes. In no time he came back with her. She was just as Janet had described her. Small and shy and plain to look upon, with eyes that held more warmth and passion than Màiri had ever seen before. She seemed remarkable in her own quiet way, and even though she did not request it, Màiri’s gift came to the forefront to show her what it sensed for the couple. Màiri felt the love they shared for each other, then she quickly pushed it away. From now on, she would not allow her gift to reveal truths or falsehoods or honesty or deceit, but would deal with each blessing or tragedy in the same manner as everyone else.

  “You remember the lass Agnes, milord?” Hector said, standing close beside her. “Her father is your tanner Finlay.”

  “Of course. My most sincere good wishes, Agnes.”

  “Thank you, milord.” She looked at Màiri and bowed respectfully. “Welcome, milady. We are overjoyed our laird has brought you to us.”

  “Thank you, Agnes. I am the one blessed to be here.”

  Agnes smiled a shy smile and Màiri saw Hector reach for her hand and hold it. The gesture touched her. She did not need her gift to tell they were in love.

  “As soon as the priest returns from the MacDuff’s,” Hector said, “our wedding will take place. We would be honored if you would join our celebration.”

  “We will look forward to it,” Iain answered.

  Hector and Agnes bid their farewell and walked across the hall. It was not long and Màiri saw them go outside. Agnes left first and Hector followed. When she looked at her husband, she saw that he noticed too.

  “At least Hector is lucky enough to be able to find some time alone with his Agnes,” he whispered in her ear, touching the side of her neck with his lips. “Do you think anyone would notice if I left with my bride for a while?”

  A shiver raced up and down her arms. “I think I could guarantee we would be missed.” She knew it was not right to feel this way, but she would like nothing more than to be alone with Iain again.

  “Why do you think our Hector chose Agnes, milady?” he said, wrapping his fingers around the back of her neck and rubbing gently. “She is not the most beautiful lass in Scotland.”

  His touch sent a warmth surging through her body. “I think to Hector she is. And the beauty he sees is not only on the outside.”

  “You must be right, wife. Even a blind man could see how much he cares for her.”

  He locked his gaze with hers, and Màiri saw a strange hunger in his eyes. Just when she was sure he was about to lean down to kiss her, another MacAlister stood to offer a toast. A few words echoed in the hall, but before he finished even the first sentence, a much deeper voice interrupted him.

  The look on Iain’s face widened in surprise and his lips broadened into a smile. Màiri followed his gaze to the entryway where a slightly smaller version of her husband stood at the top of the stairs.

  “A cup of ale!” the stranger demanded, holding out his hand while a pretty lass rushed forward with a goblet. He stood with his feet braced in a regal stance and held the cup high in the air. He made almost as magnificent a figure as the man she’d married. He was nearly as tall, his shoulders nearly as broad, his smile nearly as bright, and the way he carried himself nearly as imposing.

  “A toast to my brother, the MacAlister laird, and his bride.”

  All the MacAlisters in the room stood and held their cups high while they saluted their laird.

  “May you and your bride enjoy only blessings and happiness, and find God walking at your side for all your days.”

  The room echoed with the loud cheers.

  “May you be blessed with a long and healthy life, and a dozen sons to fill your keep.”

  The cheers grew louder.

  “And may you always find a fire blazing in your hearth, passion in your bed, and desire in your wife’s eyes.”

  An unbelievable eruption of shouts and cheers echoed in the hall as the MacAlisters raised their cups then drank their toasts.

  The man in the doorway lifted his cup to his mouth, then raised his broadsword high in the air. He placed his hand over his heart and in a loud, booming voice swore fealty to his laird, and to the mistress of clan MacAlister.

  Another loud cheer erupted.

  Iain stood at his chair. “Come here, Roderick, and meet my wife.” He held out his hand for Màiri to ris
e beside him.

  Roderick crossed the great hall and stood before them. “Milady,” he said, taking her hand in his. “You are even more lovely than I had heard.”

  The sensation that surged through her was as intense as any she’d ever felt. A chill as frigid as a Highland blizzard washed through her veins. Gnarled fingers wrapped around her heart, squeezing the air from her body until she could not breathe. She willed her gift to remain silent but could not stop it from interfering.

  “Thank you, milord,” she managed to say, pulling back her hand. She felt as if she’d been burned by his touch.

  Roderick turned toward Iain. “By the saints, Iain. You canna imagine the hell we’ve been through. We all thought you were dead.”

  “I know. I should have been, but Màiri thought differently. She would na let me die.”

  Roderick looked her in the eyes. “I will forever be in your debt. It is plain to see by the celebration tonight how grateful the MacAlisters are to have their laird back with them.”

  Iain placed his arm around her shoulder and held her close. “I owe Màiri more than just my life. She has given us peace between the MacBrides and the MacAlisters.”

  An icy chill filled the room. No one noticed but her. She tried to ignore it.

  “’Tis much we owe you,” Roderick answered, the smile on his face warm enough to melt butter. “Not only do we have our laird back alive and well, but a beautiful mistress to grace our keep.”

  Somehow she managed to smile, even though the sensations engulfing her held more evils and wrongs than she could understand.

  “Sit down beside us, Roderick, and tell me everything that has happened while I was gone. It has been so long since I have seen you. Have you had any more trouble with the Cochrans? Is there a chance we can achieve peace between us without a show of force?”

  Roderick sat down in the chair across from Iain and told him what had happened since he’d left. Màiri barely listened. Too many emotions collided within her. She wanted to shut out her gift and the things it told her, but she could not. Its warnings were too important to be ignored.

  Màiri gripped the side of the trestle table. Her gift saw through Roderick’s falsehoods, warning her of a danger she could not believe could be true. Iain loved and trusted his brother. Iain had talked of nothing other than Roderick’s loyalty, and how much Iain depended on him. How was it possible for Roderick to feel so differently? Surely her gift was betraying her.

  But her gift had never before told her wrong.

  Chapter 10

  Màiri leaned back into the corner of the window seat in their chamber and pulled the plaid tartan tighter around her shoulders. Iain was still below, listening to Roderick rejoice because his brother had returned alive and well. Why did her gift give her such a severe warning about Roderick? When she could no longer listen to his lies and the declarations of a friendship she knew were false, she’d excused herself and had come upstairs. Iain bade her farewell with a kiss and the promise he would be up soon.

  Màiri propped her chin on her knees and stared up at the stars twinkling in the sky. She knew when Iain came to her, it would be to discuss an heir. She’d heard enough comments throughout the night to know that is what was expected of her.

  Although she understood little of what went on between a husband and a wife, she knew they must do something special if they wanted to have a babe. Perhaps she should have asked Janet. She obviously knew what had to be done.

  She breathed a deep sigh and decided not to dwell on that puzzlement. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be that difficult because she’d noticed a number of MacAlister women who were also carrying babes.

  She suddenly considered what it would mean to have a child of her own. Màiri closed her eyes and prayed that if God blessed her with a babe, He would also protect and care for the child. Especially if the babe were a girl.

  Her thoughts returned to Iain. Deep inside there was a need to have him here with her. It was difficult to forget the long days she’d cared for him after she’d first found him and not realize how comfortable she’d become around him. It was impossible to remember the kisses they’d shared and not want him to kiss her again.

  Even though she knew she would always have to guard her feelings so she would never love him as deeply as her mother had loved her father in the beginning, she already realized how important he was to her. She wanted all that being his wife meant, the security, the acceptance, the love.

  Yet, how could she be a wife to him, knowing that Roderick presented a threat?

  She pounded a fist against the window ledge and silently cursed her powers. Why couldn’t she be like everyone else? Why couldn’t she accept Roderick’s false good-wishes with the same innocence as Iain and the rest of the MacAlisters?

  The waning moon cast her in a soft glow, the muted darkness a comforting cover to surround her. She was not disturbed by the lack of light. Much of her life had been spent in the darkness. From the time she’d been small, her whole world had consisted of four shadowy rooms high in the tower where her father had locked her away with her mother.

  Màiri thought of the way she’d been accepted by the MacAlisters. Such freedom was beyond belief. Now that she had experienced what could be hers, she could never go back. She wouldn’t let anyone ever lock her away again.

  The sound of his heavy boots pounded against the stone floor outside her door. No matter what it took, she would be the kind of wife Iain wanted. She didn’t care what tragedies her gift foretold, she vowed she would ignore them.

  The latch lifted and the door opened. Iain stopped in the doorway and smiled. Her heart skipped a beat. A strange warmth swirled low in the pit of her stomach that left her aching for something she didn’t quite understand. Something she knew only Iain could give her.

  She waited for him to come nearer. She refused to lose such happiness after she’d just found it. She held her breath and silently vowed she would be everything he wanted in a wife.

  He crossed the room and she held out her hand to him. A powerful jolt raced through her body when he touched her.

  He entwined his fingers through hers and sat down on the seat beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him. The feeling was magical. She belonged here, with him, with his people. A warmth unlike anything she’d ever imagined engulfed her, totally consumed her.

  She remembered the first time he’d held her and kissed her. She never thought such a life was possible, but now she knew it was. Happiness and contentment were within her grasp and she did not want to let it go.

  She breathed a contented sigh and when he placed his thumb and forefinger on the sides of her chin and turned her face toward him, a swirling whirlpool spun in the pit of her stomach. His eyes glistened with unreadable emotion before he lowered his head and gently kissed her.

  A thousand bolts of lightning struck her at the same time. She prayed he would never stop kissing her. When he did, she moaned softly and reached for him. He touched his forehead to hers and smiled. His smile lit the room like a candle in the darkness.

  “Did you enjoy your welcoming celebration tonight?”

  “Aye,” she said, noticing the warmth in his eyes. “Your clan has made me feel very welcome.”

  “Is it so different here than in your father’s keep?”

  The breath caught in her throat. “Aye,” she answered, not wanting to think of the life she’d left behind.

  He leaned back into the corner between the wall and the large arrow-slit window and pulled her against him. She sat between his legs with her back pressed against his muscled chest. The heat that surged through her body when he wrapped his arms around her middle ignited a raging fire in the pit of her stomach.

  “Will you tell me now what happened between you and your father to make you want to flee to a convent?” he asked, resting his chin against the top of her head.

  “It is not important,” she answered, praying he would not move his hands. Didn’t he
realize how close his fingers were to her breasts and how thin her nightdress was? It wasn’t at all proper.

  “Whatever drove you to make such a decision must have had some importance. You were prepared to live the rest of your life behind those walls. I would like to know what it was.”

  A picture of the dying babe she’d held in her arms came back to haunt her, the hatred in her father’s eyes. With a shiver that threatened to knock the air from her body, she pulled out of his arms and sat forward on the bench. “It was nothing,” she answered, her voice sounding strange even to her own ears.

  “Do na fear, lass,” he whispered in the shadows, pulling her back against him. “When the time is right, you will tell me. Until then, it can remain your secret.”

  Màiri relaxed against him and let his flesh warm her body. “Have you and Roderick always been so close?” she asked, then wished she had not mentioned Iain’s brother.

  “Aye. As close as two brothers can be. Although there was a time when I doubted Roderick would ever be close to anyone again. Even me.”

  She lifted her head and looked at him. There was a sadness in his eyes. “Why do you say that?”

  “Last year at this time Roderick was happily wed. He had a beautiful wife with raven-black hair and laughing green eyes. Her ruby lips held a smile that never faded, and her laughter rang out wherever she went. Oh, how Roderick loved her. When he lost her, something inside him changed. I did na think he would ever be the same.”

  The hooded expression on his face hardened, his eyes turning as dark as a starless sky. She didn’t want to ask but she had to know. “What happened?”

  “She died.”

  “How?”

  “I do na know how or why, but I know that the witch Yseult was involved in her death.”

  His voice turned hard, the bitterness as lethal as a swing of his powerful broadsword. Her heart pounded in her breast. “But Janet said she was a healer.”

  “She is a witch! I do na know what deadly potion she gave Adele or her reason for doing so, but within hours of leaving Yseult’s cottage, Adele was dead.”

  Màiri did not move for a long while. “Is that why she stood off to the side today?” she said when she could find her voice. “Is she na longer welcome here?”