Captured Hearts and Stolen Kisses

by Ceci Giltenan et al.

  His son repeated the word “elbow” several times, very seriously, until he said, “Is it ‘O’?”

  “Aye, very good, Davy.”

  Andrew didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping so he stepped forward, tapping on the door as he entered the room. “What’s going on here?”

  “Da!” squealed Davy as he jumped up from his chair and threw his arms around his father.

  “Anna is teaching us to read,” said Mairi.

  “Is she? That’s wonderful.” He smiled at Anna. “I didn’t know ye could read.”

  Anna’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “There might be one or two things ye don’t know about me.”

  He canted his head. “Aye, I expect there are.”

  “Look, Da, I can write my name.” Davy proceeded to show him a parchment on which he had written “David” in a blotchy, slightly crooked hand.

  “Well done, son. Mairi, can ye write yer name too?”

  Mairi gave him a brilliant smile—something she almost never did. “Aye, I can.” She showed him the parchment on which she had written her name in a slightly neater script.

  “Very nice, Mairi.”

  Mairi beamed.

  Andrew chanced a glance at Anna, who stood quietly to one side. She looked rightfully proud of her students. “Anna, I didn’t realize ye were teaching these two to read but ‘twas a very good idea. Thank ye.”

  She nodded but didn’t meet his eyes. “Ye’re welcome.”

  “I’m sorry to have interrupted.”

  “Ye didn’t.”

  He arched a brow at her.

  “What I mean is, we were finishing up for the morning.”

  “Well, in that case, I thought Davy might want to go with me to watch the men train for a bit.”

  “Do ye mean it, Da?”

  Andrew ruffled his hair. “Aye, Davy.”

  “Can I go too, Andrew?” asked Mairi.

  There was no way he was taking Mairi to the lists, but before he said so, Anna stepped in.

  “Nay, Mairi. Andrew, I don’t care what ye say, the lists are absolutely no place for a young lady.”

  Andrew stared at her for a moment, speechless. “Anna, I—”

  “Nay, Andrew. Absolutely not.”

  What was Anna doing? He certainly had no intention of taking Mairi.

  Mairi pouted. “Anna, that’s not fair.”

  “I’m sorry, Mairi. It cannot be allowed. Go now and get your tapestry frame. We will work on that a bit.”

  Mairi frowned and stomped out of the room.

  Andrew was perplexed. “Anna, I—”

  She put up her hand and shook her head, saying very quietly, “Andrew, ye don’t always have to be the bossy one.”

  By all the saints. “Ye did that on purpose?”

  “Ye weren’t planning to take her too, were ye?”

  “Nay, but now she’s mad at ye.”

  Anna grinned. “Aye, but she won’t stay mad long. Ye and Davy go on before she realizes that not only am I not her father or her laird, I’m not even her brother.”

  He laughed. “Aye, we’d better make our escape.” Then for some reason he could not fathom, he brushed her cheek with a kiss before leaving with Davy.

  ~ * ~

  Anna touched her cheek where he had kissed her, slightly confused by the unexpected show of affection. Then she chuckled to herself thinking of how astonished Andrew had looked when she had forbidden him to take Mairi to the lists. Sometimes Anna saw so much of her relationship with Eoin in Mairi’s interactions with Andrew. Maybe it was simply because the difference in their ages was similar. Mairi had seemed inordinately pleased when Andrew complimented her. Anna smiled, knowing she would have reacted exactly the same way to praise from Eoin. Knowing approval like that from one of her brothers had meant to her when she was Mairi’s age, Anna couldn’t stand seeing the moment ruined.

  Very soon, Mairi returned with her tapestry frame—pouting. Anna tried to hide her amusement. Mairi was beginning to love needlework as much as Anna did. If Andrew had refused to take his sister, and there was no doubt he was going to, Anna would have consoled her with the offer of working on her tapestry. She, so she had simply skipped a step. And while Mairi continued to pout for a while, she soon forgot her pique and was back to her talkative self again.

  ~ * ~

  Andrew continued to make time for Davy and after what Anna had done with Mairi, he looked for ways to include his little sister occasionally too. On Saturday afternoon before Easter, he was teaching them both to play quoits. It was an easy enough game to learn, even if it took practice and skill to master. Mairi was actually getting rather good at it for a young lass.

  “That was close, Mairi. Don’t forget to let yer arm keep going after ye release the quoit. It will fly truer.”

  As his sister prepared to throw her next quoit, her brow furrowed as if she were pondering some great problem. She took careful aim, tossed the quoit and, exactly as he had instructed, she followed through with her arm. The iron ring landed over the spike in the ground just as it was supposed to.

  “I did it!” Squealed Mairi.

  Andrew smiled at her. “Well done.” Her face lit with pleasure.

  “Aye Mairi, that was perfect,” said Graham as he joined them.

  “Did ye see me do that, Graham?”

  “Aye, sweetling, I did.”

  “Mairi, can I show Uncle Graham how I can throw them?” Davy asked.

  She smiled. “Aye go fetch them. It’s yer turn anyway.”

  Andrew and Graham stood back to watch Davy and Mairi play for a few minutes, calling the odd instruction and offering praise when it was warranted. Mairi particularly seemed to blossom with the slightest compliment.

  “Has it always been this simple to make her happy?” Andrew asked.

  Graham snorted. “Aye, Andrew, it doesn’t take much, just a bit of attention.”

  “I guess I’m guilty of not paying much attention to either of them.”

  “Aye, ye’ve been a bit wrapped up in yer own problems for a while. But the important thing is that ye know it now and ye are changing things.”

  “Why did ye never say anything?”

  “Well, I’ve tried to make subtle suggestions before but I guess we all understood how much ye’d lost. At what point do ye tell someone ye care about that they have mourned long enough?”

  “We all understood?”

  “Andrew, surely ye can’t think ye were alone in this?”

  Andrew shook his head. “I guess I never realized. I’m sorry.”

  “There is nothing to apologize for. I’m just glad that wee fireball ye’re marrying stood her ground on this. Heaven knows, no MacLeod would have done it.”

  Andrew chuckled. “Aye, she’s bold and too hardheaded by half.”

  “Have ye realized how fortunate ye are yet?”

  “Fortunate? Nay, Graham. I’m not fortunate, but if I have to marry someone, she’s better than most.”

  Graham sighed. “And ye have the nerve to call her hardheaded.”

  Chapter 13

  As Easter approached, Anna noticed the change in Andrew had a ripple effect across the clan. It was as if an invisible pall, one they hadn’t even realized enshrouded them, had been lifted. Davy was obviously ecstatic, and for that she was glad.

  On the other hand, Anna herself had trouble coming to terms with the things Andrew had said about never loving anyone as he had loved Joan. Just as she hadn’t regretted pulling Davy from the frozen loch, she certainly did not regret pushing Andrew back into Davy’s life.

  Andrew seemed fond of her at times, and Anna wasn’t sure why having his love suddenly mattered to her. An arranged marriage with no guarantee of love or even mild affection had always been in her future. When had she added love to her expectations?

  She knew the answer to that. Eoin and Fiona were very much in love and Anna wanted that too. Maybe it’s the reason she had been so resistant when Eoin had been seeking a betrothal fo
r her. In spite of it being a completely unrealistic expectation, it was becoming increasingly difficult to bear the realities of the loveless marriage that lay ahead of her.

  During the Easter feast, she maintained as cheerful a front as she could, but in addition to everything else, she had never been away from home on a feast day and she missed her family desperately. The jubilation around her only made things worse. Andrew asked her to dance occasionally and she couldn’t easily refuse. She also danced one obligatory dance each with Dougal and Graham, but otherwise she tried to blend into the background and simply endure until she could excuse herself.

  Eventually, while the celebration was still in full swing, Anna found her opportunity just as she finished a dance with Andrew.

  “Anna, excuse me for a moment and I will find us some refreshment.”

  “Oh, nay, thank ye, Andrew, none for me. I am tired and if ye don’t mind, I will say good night and seek my bed.”

  “Don’t leave yet. It’s early.” Andrew grinned. “Even Davy is still holding his own.” Davy was indeed winding through the dancers, playing a chasing game with other children.

  Anna smiled. “Aye he is, and he seems to be having a wonderful time, but I am truly exhausted.”

  “I’ll walk with ye to yer chamber then.”

  She put up a hand. “There is no need to. Stay and enjoy the fete. I’ll see ye in the morning.”

  He cocked his head to one side, “If ye’re sure…”

  “I’m sure. Good night Andrew.”

  “Good night, angel.” He kissed her forehead before letting her go.

  As she made her way up to her chamber her thoughts roamed to her first days here at Curacridhe, when her one goal had been simply to go home. At the time she had looked for any possible avenue out of the MacLeod stronghold, but escape was impossible because she had never been left unobserved. However at this moment, no one guarded her, the great hall and bailey were packed with merrymakers. Slipping out of the keep and through the gates amidst the crowd would be simple. Because she had accepted the betrothal, no one would be expecting her to leave, so if she truly wanted to escape, she would never have a better opportunity.

  It was tempting. While Anna no longer hated the MacLeods, she still longed for her family and Naomh-dùn. Furthermore, the opportunity to avoid marriage to a man whose heart would never be hers was beyond enticing. With one quick turn of her heel she could be back down the stairs, out of the keep and on her way home.

  Anna sighed wistfully. Aye, it was tempting, but it was also pointless. If she ran away now it would cause a terrible uproar and she would only have the solace of home briefly; the marriage was inevitable. Eoin would not break the agreement unless the MacLeods committed some grievous offence, which they certainly had not. Nay, nothing could be gained by running away. She needed to set silly dreams aside and fulfill her obligations as had always been expected of her. Resigned to her future, even if not terribly happy at the moment, Anna continued on to her bed chamber.

  ~ * ~

  That Easter was the first great feast in which Andrew had truly participated in, in the years since losing Joan. Experiencing the celebration around him, particularly Davy’s uninhibited delight, unearthed wonderful, happy memories. Andrew experienced joy and real comfort in the connection he and Davy shared.

  He also had quite relished dancing with Anna, and felt no small amount of disappointment as he watched her leave the feast early.

  “Where is Anna going? Is something wrong?” his father asked.

  “I don’t think so. She’s going to bed, she says she’s tired.”

  Dougal frowned. “Are ye sure nothing’s wrong? She’s been a bit subdued recently. She hasn’t had a smart, cheeky thing to say to me in days.”

  Before Andrew could respond, Mairi too approached. “Where’s Anna going?”

  “She says she’s tired and going to bed.”

  Mairi frowned.

  “What’s wrong, Mairi? Do ye know something?” asked their father.

  “Nay, Da. It’s just…well, I don’t think she’s tired. She doesn’t really get tired, at least not since she got better. She looked sad to me.”

  “Sad?” Andrew hoped that wasn’t it.

  “Why do ye think she’s sad?” asked Dougal

  Mairi rolled her eyes. “Honestly have ye both forgotten? She’s away from home, away from her family. I bet she’s never been away from home on a feast day. I’d be sad if I wasn’t here with all of ye.”

  Andrew scrubbed his face with his hands. “Dear God, Mairi, ye’re right.”

  She put her fists on her hips. “Don’t sound so shocked.”

  His father swore. “Aye, Mairi’s right and it never crossed my mind. She seems to have adjusted so well. Andrew, ye’ll take her to Naomh-dùn for Pentecost, or better yet Roodmas—it’s right after the wedding. We told her she could visit once ye were married.”

  “Aye. I should go after her now and talk to her.”

  “Nay, what ye should do is make sure she hasn’t left the keep,” said Mairi.

  Andrew and his father stared at her with disbelief.

  “Why do ye think that?” asked Dougal.

  Mairi smiled triumphantly. “Because it is what I would do.”

  “God’s bones.” Andrew worked his way through the crowded great hall and took the stairs two at a time. He needed to be sure she actually had gone to her chamber and sighed with relief when she called, “Who’s there?” in response to his knock.

  “It’s Andrew.”

  She opened the door. “Andrew, I said I was tired. I’m going to bed.”

  “I know ye said that, angel, but I can’t help think something’s bothering ye. Mairi thought ye might be missing home.”

  She smiled. “Aye, Mairi would think that.”

  “Is she right?”

  “I suppose she is.”

  He took her hands in his. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize it earlier. Ye know it won’t be long now until we’re married. Ye’ll see yer family then and we can visit Naomh-dùn for the Roodmas celebration there.”

  “That will be nice Andrew. Thank ye.”

  He dipped his head to look directly into her eyes. “That doesn’t really make it better, does it?”

  She shook her head, giving a half-hearted chuckle. “Nay. I do appreciate yer concern, but ye needn’t worry, I’ll get over it.”

  She sounded…defeated, and it tore at his heart. He wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry, angel. I wish I could make it better.”

  She rested her head on his chest, but to his great disappointment, after only a moment, she took a deep breath and pulled away. “It’s all right. I’ll be fine. Really, I will. This is my home now. I’ll get used to it eventually, but it’s still all very new.”

  Her unhappy tone belied her words, but he didn’t know what to say. “Ye’ve been so brave and so strong.” He caressed her cheek, wanting more than anything to hold her in his arms and kiss her until he banished the sorrow in her eyes. Dear God, where had that come from? Nay, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t.

  Almost as if she sensed his inner conflict, she stepped back. “Andrew, I…I’m tired. I’ll feel better in the morning. Good night.”

  She went into her chamber, closing the door on him.

  He stood there listening, remembering how she had crumbled once before. This time, he heard nothing, so after a few moments he left, returning to the festivities.

  As soon as he stepped into the great hall, Davy barreled toward him. Andrew grinned. His son glowed with happiness and youthful exuberance.

  “Da, where’ve ye been? Where is Anna?”

  He ruffled Davy’s hair. “Anna is tired and has gone to bed. I was just checking to make sure she was well.”

  Davy frowned. “She never goes to bed before I do. She always tells me a story and tucks me in.”

  “Does she?” Andrew wasn’t sure why that surprised him. Anna took excellent care of Davy. “Well, since she is a bit m
ore tired than usual and ye are up a bit later than usual, I’ll see ye tucked in tonight.”

  “Will ye really, Da?”

  Davy looked as if Andrew had offered him a priceless treasure. He remembered Anna’s words from a few days ago. If things keep going as they are, someday he will stop seeking yer time and attention altogether and on that day ye will have lost a thing of great value. She had been right.

  “Aye, son, I will. Are ye ready to go to bed now?”

  “Can I just find Granda and Uncle Graham and say goodnight to them first?”

  “Of course ye can. I’ll wait here for ye.”

  When Davy returned a few minutes later, he put his hand in Andrew’s and they went up the stairs to the lad’s room. Davy removed his plaid, washed his face and hands and climbed into bed. “Will ye tell me a story, like Anna does?”

  Andrew chuckled. “Aye, Davy. Is there one ye’d like to hear?”

  “I like all stories. Tell me one ye like.”

  “Hmm. Have ye ever heard of a trow?”

  Davy nodded eagerly. “Aye. They are wee folk, like faeries.”

  “Well this is a story about a trow and a poor widow named Mallie.”

  Andrew proceeded to tell his son the story of the generous woman, who although she had only a handful of meal left to feed her children, shared it with a stranger in need—a tiny old man dressed all in gray.

  When Andrew had finished the story, Davy smiled. “Anna would have done that. She would have helped the old man.”

  “Aye, I suspect she would have.”

  “I know she would have. I like that story.”

  “I’ve always liked it too.” Andrew remembered how Joan would cuddle Davy on her lap and tell him stories even when he was too young to understand them. Mallie and the Trow was one of her favorites. It was a good memory.

  “Ye look happy, Da.”

  He smiled at his son. “Aye. I am happy. I was just remembering how yer mama loved to tell ye that story.”

  “Did she? I don’t remember.”

  “I expect ye don’t. Ye were very little when yer mama died.”

  “Would she have done what Mallie did and give away her last bit of food to someone who needed it?”

  “Aye, son, she would have.”