Oath of a Warrior (Legends of the Fenian Warriors Book 2)

by Mary Morgan

  “Do ye not care for the boar?” asked Graham, skewering a portion from the platter.

  “Rory does not like meat of any kind,” interjected Catherine, taking a seat beside him. Picking up her cup, she handed it to Rory. “Would ye be so kind?”

  Almost choking on his food, Graham pushed his cup toward Rory, as well. “Truly? Nae meat? How does one survive without it?”

  After filling both cups, Rory handed them back respectfully. “I have never acquired the taste.”

  “Nae, but ye have other ones,” mentioned Catherine, smiling demurely.

  Erina snorted, but remained silent. She refused to meet his stare, and pushed her food around on her plate.

  “Ye have heard too many tales, Catherine.” Rory all but guzzled his wine.

  “My daughter listens when she should not,” grumbled Ewan.

  “Ye wound me, Father. These are stories from the women and not ye.”

  Ewan gave her a warning look. “Do ye want to shock Lady Erina?”

  “And now ye insult me.” Catherine placed her cup down. “I am a lady, too.”

  “There is naught ye could tell me about Rory MacGregor that I probably would not have guessed,” stated Erina, placing her hands upon the table.

  Rory leaned back in his chair. “I judge it wise to pick another topic of conversation.”

  “Why?” prodded Erina, giving him a scathing look. “Are your conquests even too embarrassing for your ears?”

  Graham dropped his knife. “Erina.”

  Keeping his hands clenched by his sides, Rory leveled his gaze at her. “Nae, never. But I will not entertain my bedroom adventures in the presence of ladies.”

  Erina snickered. “Is that what ye call it? Adventures?” Stabbing a piece of the boar’s heart, she added, “Do ye leave their hearts broken after ye are finished?”

  “Enough!” shouted Graham, slamming his hand onto the table. He glanced at Rory. “Pray forgive my sister. Living alone has made her tongue sharp. She often speaks her mind, when it would be best to keep silent.”

  The lady shot daggers at Rory, and her anger seeped into his skin. Turning his attention to her brother, he said, “There is nae need for apologies. And I find it refreshing to hear honesty over flowered words.”

  “Aye, aye,” agreed Graham. “Regardless, we shall not be entertaining this topic again.”

  Catherine bowed her head near Rory and whispered, “Do forgive my goading.”

  Smiling, Rory reached for her hand and placed a kiss along her fingers. “Never change who ye are, dear lady. However, there are some subjects I will not entertain.”

  She laughed and reached for her wine.

  Releasing her hand, Rory stole a glance at Erina. Raw hurt had replaced her anger, and he fought the urge to flee the hall. He hated himself for what he was doing. But it had to be done. They would never become lovers again.

  Lovers. The very word sent his mind in search of any memory of their time together. Brief flashes of images flickered within the dark corners. Each day brought less and less, and he could not fathom the reason. As he continued to concentrate, the blinding pain returned inside his head. Blinking back the agony, Rory fought for control. Bringing his focus to the present, he tried to calm his breathing.

  He reached for the jug and filled his cup. As he swirled the wine, he tried to listen to the bits of conversation around him as the pain subsided to a dull ache. Draining his cup, he placed it down and rubbed his forehead.

  “Does your head pain ye still from the blow by Darren?” asked Graham.

  Rory glanced at the man. “On occasion,” he lied.

  “Erina could make ye a tonic,” suggested Graham, pushing away his plate.

  He was not about to ask for Erina’s assistance. Rory would seek out his own herbal remedy, if needed.

  “I dinnae believe the man wishes for my aid,” Erina offered quietly.

  “Then if he has nae desire to seek your help, mayhap he will let me tend to his pain,” interjected a young man striding forth into the hall.

  Erina stood abruptly. “Brother Michael!”

  Smiling, the man went and embraced her. Brother Michael inquired, “Is there a reason the man refuses your healing tonics? Ye have great skills.”

  Rory folded his arms over his chest, tempering his irritation. “Ye do understand I am sitting here?”

  The monk directed his attention toward him. “My apologies. Though I must ask, are ye not accustomed to women healers?”

  “Since ye have only arrived and were not privy to the entire conversation, I can assure ye I have nae issue with women healers. The lady Erina, assumed I would not welcome her help, before I had a chance to reply.”

  “This is Rory MacGregor. He is traveling with Laird Ewan MacGregor and his daughter, Catherine,” acknowledged Graham.

  Brother Michael gave a slight bow to all. “Greetings. He turned back to Erina. “’Tis good to see ye here, though what has brought ye to Kileburn?”

  Graham muttered a curse as he poured wine into a cup and handed it to the monk.

  “A tale for another time,” she offered. “Please sit and tell us of your travels.”

  After taking the offered item, Brother Michael took a sip and took his place next to Erina. “When last I saw Graham, I had nae desire to leave Brunley. Yet, with the arrival of a new administrator, I considered it wise to take a sabbatical and travel back home.”

  “Are they making more changes at Brunley?” inquired Rory. The hospital was known for its healing practices, but with any place governed by a religious order, they often insisted in blending the two—science and the law of religion. Those who refused to follow their belief were ousted or accused of malicious practices.

  Brother Michael’s face lit up. “Ahh…so ye have heard of the place? Was the hospital one of refuge or treatment for ye?”

  “My brother, Liam, often sought out the Brothers for their healing herbs. And I have visited on occasion.”

  The monk tapped a finger to his mouth. “Liam MacGregor, aye?”

  Rory nodded slowly.

  “I am acquainted with the man. He comes to the hospital several times a year. His knowledge is far superior to any I have come across.” The man leaned forward. “Ye must speak with him and urge him to consider joining the order. And ye must consider my offer, too.”

  Rory almost choked on his wine. “My brother and I follow a different path. But I will forward your message to him.” If I ever see him again.

  Erina snorted softly, but Rory refused to engage her in conversation. No doubt, she would turn the tables, and they would once again be discussing his conquests in the bedroom. If only she knew how he once had feasted on every inch of her body. Tasted her satiny skin and traced his tongue along places that drove her into depths of yearning. His hand tightened on his cup.

  Brother Michael sighed. “As I was saying, the arrival of the new monk and his associates has left uneasiness within Brunley. We fear they will not accept those outside of the order or hospital.”

  “What about the healers and the midwives in the villages?” asked Erina. “Ye cannot expect everyone to travel for medicinal help to this hospital.”

  Brother Michael rubbed a hand over his chin. “’Tis a great time of fear. They have spoken of ridding those who practice the heathen ways. Whereas, there are others who suggest a gentler approach to bring these healers into the fold.”

  Rory swallowed the bitterness in his throat. “They fear those that are different. Who use their gift combined with the magic of the old beliefs.”

  “Aye,” whispered Brother Michael.

  A cloak of silence descended over the table.

  Erina was the first to break the tension. She gazed around those gathered. “So as a healer with no regard for their—your religion, I would be an outcast? And here I regarded the hospital as a place of great learning.” Fear showed in her eyes as she added, “What can they do to me? Send me away?”

  “Nae. Burn ye as a
witch,” interjected Rory.

  Chapter Twelve

  “When the song entered the land through a shaft of light, the birth of a new day gave hope to the lovers.”

  ~Chronicles of the Fae

  Clutching her basket to her chest, Erina waited on the cold boulder until the last ray of light slipped beyond the horizon. After Rory made his chilling pronouncement last night, she had fled the banquet hall without a word to anyone. Furthermore, she had spilled her secret in front of the MacGregor men. She longed to take the words back, but anger at Brother Michael’s own words made her curious. Erina was not one to hide in the shadows. No, she only wished to be left alone. To practice her own beliefs. To tend to those who required healing. Or to assist those seeking love. What harm could that bring?

  She had spent a sleepless night tossing and turning within the covers of her bed. Try as she might, Erina was unable to clear her mind of Rory. Chastising herself did not ease the pain inside her heart either. When the first light of dawn broke through the gray clouds, she bounded out of her bed and quickly dressed. The day was spent tending to her charms, reading in the library with Catherine, or wandering among the gardens until she knew it was time to gather the final ingredients for her charms.

  Rory’s words came back to haunt her during the day, and her fingers dug into the basket. “Burn me as a witch? Ye are horrid men to burn people,” she muttered. Erina longed to pack up everything and flee to her cottage.

  Thane lifted his head, and she ruffled the coarse fur behind his ears. “’Tis only rubbish. I am of nae concern to those monks. At least we have a friend in Brother Michael.”

  Shaking her head, she stood. Brunley was far away. Surely their reach could not extend to this side of the country.

  With a sigh, Erina went in search of the final ingredient for the love charms—the vervain flowers. Thane followed closely, and she let the beauty of the gloaming descend over her. The land and the Goddess would heal her. Humming a tune, she roamed through the garden until she came upon the beauty. After pulling forth only a few of the flowers, Erina placed them in her basket. Onward she traveled—past herbs, shrubs, flowers, and vegetables. The gravel path led out beyond a cluster of birch trees and past the stables.

  The early autumn evening was brisk, and Erina tugged her cloak more firmly around her shoulders. Opening a gate, she moved aside to let Thane take the lead. Erina quickly secured the latch and hastened down the narrow pathway to her sheep. After consulting her brother once again on where the animals were located, Erina was determined to see how they were faring.

  Soft bleating directed her and soon, she came upon their pen near an enclosure. Smiling, her steps hastened. Thane let out a sharp bark, and placed his front paws on the top of the fence. Her shoulders sagged in relief as she entered the area. Graham had definitely prepared something suitable. Erina feared he would let them wander the nearby hills and forget about them.

  She dropped her basket on a side bench. Greeting each of her sheep in the twilight brought a sense of peace. Glancing quickly inside their small enclosure, she noticed fresh grass and water. “Are ye aching to roam the hills?”

  Her favorite, Tam, nudged her leg. “Aye. I ken how ye long for freedom. I, for one, yearn to return home, too. Be patient.”

  Grabbing her basket, Erina left the place and retreated along the same path back to the garden. Her steps slowed as she watched the first star enter the night sky. The area on the hill opened up, revealing the loch below. Though the water was cloaked in darkness, the moon would slowly make its appearance. Leaning against a pine tree, she realized in five days the full moon would be upon them. She had promised a love charm for Betty Timmons, which meant she had to be back at her cottage within four days. She chewed on her bottom lip in thought. She would be there, regardless of what her brother had decreed.

  “I love ye, Graham, but ye can do without me for one day.”

  A sharp gust of wind blew past Erina, and she blinked her eyes. After checking to make sure her flowers did not take flight with the wind, she lifted her head. Light shimmered along across the loch. Why would someone take a torch out to the water? Were they searching for something or someone? However, the light didn’t flicker or waver in the breeze. It remained steady. Curious, she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and descended the path.

  Thane charged on ahead, and Erina fought the urge to shout at the animal. Carefully making her way through the trees and brush, she halted. Rory stood silently by the edge of the loch. She would have known that stance from any distance—day or night. Proud and fierce.

  She glanced around and spied Thane sprawled out near a tree. The man must have extinguished the light she had witnessed earlier, and Erina had no wish to disturb his solitude.

  Painful memories of his words slammed into her. As she turned around to make her way back to the castle, Erina tripped, spilling the contents of her basket.

  Grumbling a curse, she snatched her basket and tried to search for the scattered flowers.

  “May I offer ye some assistance?” The soft burr of his voice skimmed across her skin.

  Erina refused to look his way. “Forgive me. I saw the light…” Her hands brushed over leaves, rocks, and dirt. “I did not mean to intrude.”

  Rory crouched down beside her. “If ye tell me what ye are searching for, I can help.”

  Her heart pounded at her foolish predicament. “Vervain flowers.”

  “Ahh…a rare beauty,” he disclosed.

  The man was so close, the heat of his body surrounded hers. Yet, humiliation filled her. Once again, she had approached him. Scooting away, Erina tried to find at least one flower. Her hand brushed over something sharp and she hissed in pain. “Ouch.” Wetness trickled down her fingers.

  “What did ye do?” Rory reached for her hand, and Erina tried to pull it free from his embrace.

  “’Tis nothing. The bleeding is slight.” The harder she tugged, the more he held her hand firmly. Finally lifting her head, she gazed into his mesmerizing eyes. They glimmered in the night. Swallowing, she glanced outward at the water. “Please release me. I have caused ye enough trouble. I will tend to my hand when I return to my chamber.”

  “Ye are nae trouble, Erina.”

  Anger replaced her humility, and she snapped at him. “Must I remind ye of your own words from yesterday?”

  A frown marred his features, and he sighed heavily. “Forgive my harshness. An error on my part. I was angry with myself. I should have never taken advantage of ye.”

  Erina angled her head to the side, studying him. “I was wrong, as well,” she uttered softly.

  His smile came slowly. “How does your hand feel now?”

  He released his grip, and Erina held up her hand, flexing her fingers. Gone was the pain and any trace of blood. “Goodness. ’Tis better. What did ye do?”

  Without answering her, Rory helped her to stand. Retrieving her basket, he held it outward. “I managed to find your flowers.”

  Taking her basket, she mumbled her thanks and turned to leave.

  “Erina?”

  “Aye,” she responded, turning back toward the man.

  He took a hesitant step near her. “Forgive me?”

  She sighed. No matter what the man’s previous conquests had been, Rory MacGregor was an honorable man. Or mayhap, he truly did not desire her and regretted the stolen kiss. Regardless, their paths were heading in separate directions. And Erina had sealed her vow with a prayer to the Goddess. “I will, but only if ye can forgive me. Let us call a truce?”

  Rory clasped his hands behind his back and leaned near her ear. “Aye, most definitely.”

  Though the man had not touched her, the warmth of his breath along her cheek sent tremors coursing through her body. Heat flooded her insides, and she turned to leave. With her back to the warrior, Erina snapped her fingers for Thane, and quickly made her escape from the enticing Rory MacGregor.

  Upon entering Kileburn, Erina’s steps led her past th
e Great Hall and up the stairs. Lively conversation and laughter followed her along the corridor. She knew her brother was expecting her to dine with the others, but she had to put away her basket and examine her appearance. Stepping inside her chamber, she placed the basket on a table by the window. However, she gaped at the contents in disbelief. How was it possible there were so many flowers? Erina had only gathered a few, not half a basket. Her mind tried to fathom the possibility. “Ye are a wonder, Rory. Did ye wave your hand over the ground and they appeared?” As she shook her head at the absurdity, Erina undid her cloak and tossed it over a chair.

  Erina inspected her hand. No traces of her cut were evident. She glanced down at her gown, and at her cloak. No blood droplets anywhere. “I did not imagine my injury,” she whispered. “Maybe the ground was wet? Aye, that must have been the reason. Thankfully, there is nae bruising.”

  Thane yawned and sprawled out in front of the hearth.

  She pointed a finger at him. “Ye are the lucky one, my friend. I shall have to endure another evening listening to the men talk of politics, crops, and drink. What a blessed relief I have Catherine to converse with, or I deem I would go mad.”

  After casting a swift final inspection of her gown and hair, Erina left her chamber. One more day to cross off, and one more day closer to when she could return home.

  ****

  One day bled into the next, and Erina was trying to deduce a solution to her current situation. Her love charm for Betty was completed, but therein was another problem. How was she going to deliver it to the woman? Maybe she could go out riding for the day? “Aye, I can just hear Graham’s retort,” she mumbled, descending along the corridor.

  The delicious smell of bread teased her senses when Erina made her way to the kitchens. She had no desire to dine in the hall, since Catherine had mentioned she would be out riding early this morning. The woman had encouraged her to join her, but Erina had to return to her cottage. After giving her apologies last evening, she promised to ride another day.