During the evening meal Andrew fought an internal battle. One moment Anna’s smile, laugh or casual touch would draw his attention and he allowed himself to become intoxicated by her nearness. He told himself there was nothing wrong with enjoying her company. After all, he was marrying her in less than two weeks. Why had it been so important to keep her at arm’s length?
Then a glance at Lady Sinclair would remind him. He loved Joan. How could he love anyone else or risk that pain again?
When the meal was over, Andrew’s mental war had exhausted him. He offered his apologies, intending to retire early. “It’s been a long day, I will wish ye all good night.”
“It has been,” agreed Anna. “Will ye walk me to my chamber?”
“Aye, of course, Anna.”
She slipped her arm through his as they left the hall.
It felt as if she belonged there, as if a part of him had been missing and now he was whole.
Neither of them said anything until they reached the door of her chamber. There she turned to face him, looking deeply into his eyes. Her brow furrowed. “Andrew, is something wrong?”
“Nay, I’m…nay, nothing’s wrong.”
She reached up and caressed his face. He could only lean into her delicate touch. He put his hand over hers and turned his head to kiss her palm, then folded his fingers around her small hand.
She was gentle and sweet and so very beautiful.
“Andrew, ye confuse me.”
Not to mention forthright, he added to the list of her charming attributes.
He chuckled. “Ye confuse me too.” Letting go of her hand, he raised her chin to peer into her eyes. He saw a deep yearning there—so like one he had fought all evening. He caressed her cheek and just as he had done, she leaned into his touch.
She was there, in front of him, lips parted and trembling. Putting his other hand on the wall, behind her, he leaned in, tilting her head back ever so slightly. In the instant before his lips touched hers, voices drifted to them from the stairwell.
Startled, he straightened. What was he doing? He couldn’t. “Anna, I…goodnight, Anna.” He turned and walked away, his brain scarcely registering the stricken look on her face.
~ * ~
Anna stood for a moment, watching him stride away, barely able to process what had just happened. Graham emerged from the stairwell, glancing first toward Andrew’s retreating figure, then back at Anna. A look of realization crossed his features, replaced quickly by anger. He turned and strode after Andrew.
Anna spun away, entering her room, mortified. She had all but begged him to kiss her, and he’d simply turned away. Ena was wrong. Andrew did not love her. He couldn’t possibly love her and have humiliated her like that.
After a moment her embarrassment and disappointment morphed to anger.
Embarrassment ached, but righteous anger didn’t, and she had every right to be angry.
She paced as memories of the last six weeks came crashing down on her and she began a litany in her head. Captured, accused of horrible things, thrown in the dungeon, allowed to freeze. By all that’s holy, I was so ill, they gave me the Last Rites in this very room.
They wouldn’t let me go home, even after the precious betrothal was signed. I have accepted everything, I have tried my best to find happiness here. But what is the result? What can I look forward to? I don’t expect all-consuming passion, but at least consistency would be nice. One minute it seems as if he reaches for me—the next he pushes me away. It hurts more each time he does.
She could no longer keep it in, saying to the empty room, “I will not accept that. I’ve had enough. No priest will preside over a wedding if I refuse to consent…and I refuse.” She grabbed her mantle, charged out of her chamber and down the stairs. She took a deep breath to calm herself before stepping into the great hall.
Laird MacLeod was still there, sitting near the hearth with Lairds Chisholm and Sinclair, tankards of ale in their hands. “Anna, my little dove, where are ye going? Why do ye have yer mantle on?”
She forced a smile to her lips. “I need to speak with Father Ninian.”
“It’s a bit late isn’t it? Surely this can wait until morning.”
“Nay, Laird, I assure ye, it cannot.” She strode to the door and out into the bailey before he could respond. She knew the quiet priest chose to say the liturgy of the hours, at least those from prime to compline, in the chapel. If he wasn’t already there, he would be arriving soon—it had to be nearly time for compline.
She slipped inside the chapel. It was bathed in soft candlelight as Father did indeed stand before the altar reciting the Divine Office.
She sat on a bench near the back of the church, bowed her head and let his words wash over her, calming her.
When he had finished, he turned towards her, a small smile forming on his lips. “Anna, child, what brings ye here so late?”
“Father, I seek sanctuary.”
He blinked at her. “Surely ye don’t mean that. Ye haven’t committed any crime.”
“Nay but I refuse to marry Andrew MacLeod.”
“Ye don’t mean that. Come sit with me and tell me what has upset ye so.”
“I do mean it, Father.”
More seriously he said. “Anna, ye can’t just refuse. The betrothal is signed.”
“But ye need my consent to marry us do ye not?”
“Aye, but lass, a betrothal is binding. It cannot be set aside.”
“It can if I chose the religious life, can’t it?”
“Aye, but—”
“Nay, Father, I am asking for sanctuary until I can be taken to an abbey. Will ye deny me?”
Chapter 18
Andrew had barely reached the confines of his chamber before Graham charged in.
“By the Almighty, Andrew, what have ye done?”
“Get out, Graham.”
“Not until ye tell me what ye did to crush Anna.”
“I didn’t crush her.”
“The hell ye didn’t. I saw her as ye were walking away, and I’ve never seen her look like that. She was shattered.”
“It’s better this way. She shouldn’t have any romantic notions about me. I cannot love her.”
“Ye’re an idiot. Why are ye so dead set against letting her into yer heart?”
“It’s none of yer business, but I’ve told ye before, I loved Joan. I don’t want to love anyone like that again.”
“Get yer head out of yer arse. I never knew ye were such a selfish coward.”
“Ye don’t know what it’s like to lose yer beloved, and until ye do, ye have no right to call me a coward.” But even as he said it, Andrew knew Graham was right. Hadn’t he admitted as much to Anna when she confronted him about Davy?
“Perhaps I don’t know about that kind of loss, but I know a bit about courage. I have witnessed a wee lass, a reviled MacKay, who, when she saw a child in danger, gave no thought to herself, to what might happen to her, or even to the possibility that her actions might have resulted in her own death. She simply acted. If she had turned around on the bluff that day, none of us would have known and no one in her clan would have blamed her. But I’ll warrant it never occurred to her to protect herself. Then she did it again the morning she challenged you over going riding with Davy. Ye were enraged and ye practically dragged her out of the hall.”
“I would never have hurt her.”
“Of course ye wouldn’t, but I doubt she knew that. And yet she clearly stood her ground because whatever it was she said awakened ye to the fact that ye had been pushing yer own son away for years. I’ve already told ye, the rest of us knew it, but we also knew how badly ye were hurting and none of us were bold enough to call ye on it. Andrew, she gave ye back yer son…twice.”
“I know she did, but—”
“Nay, there is no but. That wee lass has a heart bigger than the Highlands and she gives her love freely, without worrying about how she could be hurt. She deserves yer love in return.”
&
nbsp; Andrew shook his head in frustration. Everything Graham said was true. He tried again to make his brother understand. “There is more to it than fearing the pain of loss again, and it isn’t that I don’t want to love her.”
“Then what is it? Do ye not desire her? That’s hard to believe.”
Andrew scowled darkly. “Of course I desire her. That has nothing to do with it.”
“Then I am at a loss. She cares for yer clan, she adores yer child, and she loves ye. What could possibly keep ye from loving her in return?”
There was only one answer Andrew could give. “Guilt.”
“What? What do ye have to feel guilty for?”
“If I allow myself to love Anna, I fear I’m letting Joan go.”
“Of course ye’re letting her go!” Graham practically shouted. “She’s dead, Andrew, ye must let her go, but it doesn’t mean ye love her any less. If I’m not much mistaken, she would be furious over this. She loved ye too, but she was as loving and generous as Anna. Joan wouldn’t want ye to lock yer heart away, and she certainly wouldn’t want ye to eschew Anna’s love out of some foolish devotion to her.”
Andrew was silent as he let the things Graham had said sink in. It was true. Once again he had been focused only on himself, on what he had lost. Furthermore, with his misguided notion of loyalty he hadn’t allowed himself to see any other perspective. Graham was right about Joan too. She wouldn’t begrudge him this. She would be thrilled that another woman cared so deeply for her son, and she wouldn’t want Andrew to live the remainder of his days without love either.
“Do ye still think ye can’t give Anna yer heart? Because if ye do, I’ll go now, take her to Naomh-dùn tonight, beg her brother to break the betrothal and face Da’s wrath in the morning.”
“For the love of all that’s holy, Graham, don’t do that. I fear I gave her my heart the moment I carried her from the dungeon. I just didn’t…I couldn’t…”
“Don’t tell me. Tell her—if she’ll even speak to ye.”
Andrew nodded and left the room.
When he reached Anna’s chamber he knocked. Hearing nothing, he knocked again. “Anna, please.”
She didn’t respond.
“Anna, we need to talk.” He frowned when she didn’t answer. He knocked again. “Anna, I’m coming in.”
He opened the door only to discover the room was empty. He left her chamber and practically ran down the stairs.
He burst into the great hall and, on seeing his father, asked, “Da, have ye seen Anna?”
Obviously concerned, Dougal frowned. “What’s happened?”
“We had a…misunderstanding. Did ye see her?”
“Aye, she was here not long ago. She said she was going to the chapel to speak with Father Ninian.”
Without another word, Andrew left the keep, crossing the bailey to the chapel. Someone was there; the windows glowed with candlelight. He took a deep, calming breath before stepping inside.
There sat Anna, her back to the door, speaking earnestly with Father Ninian.
The priest looked up. “Ah…Andrew…good evening.”
Anna’s back went rigid. “Leave me be.”
“Anna, I’m sorry. Come back to the keep with me, there are things I need to tell ye.”
“Nay, Andrew. I said leave me be.”
“Anna, please, it’s late. I’m sure Father Ninian is ready to retire. Come with me now.”
“I said nay.”
Andrew was growing frustrated. He knew she was angry and she deserved to be, but he didn’t want to discuss this here. “Anna, I threatened to throw ye over my shoulder once before. Don’t make me do it again.”
Father Ninian stood up. “I’m sorry Andrew, I can’t allow that. Anna has asked for sanctuary and I have granted it.”
“Sanctuary? From what?”
“From marriage.”
“Ye can’t be serious. Anna, the betrothals are signed. They can’t be broken. Isn’t that right, Father Ninian?”
The priest shook his head. “That’s not precisely true, Andrew. A betrothal can be broken in some circumstances, if both parties agree.”
“Well, I don’t agree.”
“And,” continued Father Ninian, “a betrothal can be broken unilaterally if one party seeks to make religious vows. Anna has requested sanctuary and safe passage to an abbey. I cannot deny her that.”
This couldn’t be happening. He had to change her mind. “Anna, please, give me the opportunity to explain.”
Finally she turned around. The hurt and anger in her expression gutted him.
“There’s nothing to explain. Ye’ve made yerself abundantly clear.”
Damnation. He needed to talk to her…alone. “Father, I accept that ye’ve granted Anna sanctuary. I swear to ye that I will not force her to leave. However, there are things she needs to hear. Would ye give us privacy?”
The priest appeared to consider the request for a moment before drawing Anna’s attention by putting his hand on her shoulder.
“Anna, clearly something happened this evening to upset ye. The decision to enter the religious life is a serious one. I believe it would be best if ye discussed whatever has happened with Andrew. I also believe that he will honor yer request for sanctuary, but whether I stay or leave is your choice.”
“I’ll speak with him alone,” she said softly.
He nodded. “Well, then, I’ll leave ye for now. Andrew, if she decides to remain in sanctuary, please let me know. She’ll need blankets if she’s to sleep here tonight.”
“That won’t be necessary, Father. If she still chooses the religious life when we’re done, I’ll not stand in her way.”
“I’m sorry, my son, but ye do not have the power to release her from the betrothal. Only Laird MacLeod can do that and I am certain that he will not. Lady Anna, if you choose sanctuary, do not leave this chapel.”
She nodded. “Aye, Father.”
They waited in silence until Father Ninian had left.
“Anna, I—”
She put her hand up. “Don’t. Ye said ye have things to tell me, but I am tired of being told. I was told I couldn’t go home. I was told I had to marry ye. I was told to accept that it was the best thing for our clans. I was told that ye could never give yer heart to anyone again.”
“Anna—”
“Wheesht!”
Andrew was taken aback by her vehemence.
“I have been told a lot of things. Right now I am going to tell ye a few things and I don’t care if ye find what I have to say hard to hear.
“Ye’ve been greatly blessed, Andrew. Yer father arranged a marriage for ye to a wonderful woman who ye came to love passionately and who by all accounts loved ye in return. Few noblemen are given that blessing even for a little while. Ye were blessed to have her in yer life for almost five years. Ye were blessed with a wonderful child from that union. And yet for too many years, ye’ve focused on your loss rather than the blessings ye were given. Ye feared the pain of that loss so much ye even locked yerself away from yer son and vowed never to marry, never to take a risk with yer heart.
“Then another blessing came into yer life. Me. I was a blessing. Right now I’m the slightest bit irritated about that, but it is true. Aye, I was where Davy needed me in order to save him, but it’s more than that.
“Neither one of us wanted this betrothal, but my reticence was born from fear. Fear of my clan’s enemy and fear of the unknown. But that isn’t why ye didn’t want to marry me. Ye’re life would hardly have changed. Ye still live in yer home, among yer clan, and ye are still the laird’s heir. Marrying one little MacKay might be an annoyance, but nothing more. Ye certainly didn’t fear me. But make no mistake, Andrew, ye were afraid.”
“Aye, I was.”
She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “Ye were afraid of risking yer heart again, afraid of loving me and perhaps losing me as ye did Joan. Yer life had become all about protecting yourself, ensuring that ye didn’t ache with loss aga
in. But tell me this, if before ye married Joan ye’d known how brief yer life together would be, would ye have chosen not to love her? Would ye have chosen never to experience her love for ye. If ye could have avoided all of this pain, would ye have?
“Nay.”
“Of course not. But ye’re willing to shut me out. Well, I’m sorry Andrew. I didn’t ask to be brought here or betrothed to ye. I didn’t ask to fall in love with a wee lad who fights dragons or a clan I thought was my enemy. And I certainly didn’t ask to fall in love with a man who was too scared to love me back. But I did. I had no choice in any of this, but now I do. I deserve better.”
“Aye, ye do, and ye won’t be happy in a convent.”
“I’ve learned that happiness is a choice. I refuse to spend my life lamenting what I can never have. I will be happy wherever I decide to be happy.”
“Then decide to be happy with me.”
She stared at him, stunned. “I tried, and ye just keep pushing me away.”
He stepped towards her and took her hands. “Ye’re right. But as much as I’ve tried to guard against loving ye, I failed miserably. I think I’ve loved ye from the start. I also think part of me felt guilty loving ye. I worried that somehow I was setting Joan aside. I was wrong. I’m sorry I hurt ye, but please, Anna, if happiness is really a choice, I’m begging ye, choose to be happy with me.”
“Why should I?” she asked warily.
“Because I love ye and ye love me too. Ye just said so.”
Her brow drew together. “I did, didn’t I?”
He chuckled, pulling her in his arms. “Aye, angel, ye did. And ye love Davy. And ye love my clan.”
“I said all of those things?” But as she looked up at him a small smile played around her lips, suggesting that her hurt and anger were evaporating.
“I assure ye, ye did.”
“And ye promise to stop pushing me away?”
“I promise.”
She sighed. “Then, aye, I suppose I’ll choose to be happy with ye.”
He cupped her face in his hands and finished what he had started early in the evening. He kissed her, deeply and passionately, and she returned his kiss with ardor. For several moments nothing existed but the two of them. When he finally broke the kiss they were both left breathless. He continued to simply hold her close, resting his cheek on the top of her head.
Captured Hearts and Stolen Kisses Page 160