Forbidden Heart

by Quinn, Paula

  “Why were you watching me pray? she asked shyly.

  “’Tis my duty to keep my eyes on ye.”

  “Oh. Thank you for doing your duty, then.”

  They started walking together toward the others.

  “Why were ye weepin’? Are ye afraid or sad aboot leavin’?”

  “Aye,” she told him. “I’m both afraid and sad but my tears were not caused by sorrow.” She smiled slightly as if she had a secret—something he couldn’t understand.

  They met up with the others and she sat to eat some fruit before they left.

  Twice, Galeren had to admonish Morgann and Mac for gaping at her while she ate—after another quick prayer. She didn’t appear to mind their attention too much. In fact, he caught her a few times watching them, too. He saw the spark of amusement in her eyes when Padrig nearly fell off the tree trunk he was sitting on when Will politely asked her if she minded having all her hair cut off.

  “Hair is an adornment.”

  And hers was like a summer sunset.

  “Does God want plain wives?”

  This earned Will a punch from Mac on the other side of him.

  Galeren neither pushed nor punched him. He glared at him and ordered him to ready the horses. Will did not refuse.

  “A person can be beautiful,” she said after Will left, “the most beautiful in all the world, but if they are unjust or show no mercy, there is no beauty in them and one day what is on the inside will come creeping out.”

  Galeren wondered if she was talking about someone like him. He was called Galeren the Bonny back home. Did she consider his heart ugly because he was a Scottish soldier?

  “We need to get movin’,” he said. “We have already lost time.”

  He met her at the horses and lifted her to the saddle.

  Two days. It was nothing. He’d traveled seven days one way to get to Invergarry last summer, and longer than that to France and England. He could do this. She was forbidden. Nothing else mattered but that and the reasons why. So, what was he doing? He wanted to laugh. He’d suffered a lapse in good sense for a few hours. It was nothing more serious than that.

  “Forgive me for being such trouble, Captain.”

  He let out a great breath, expelling his thoughts. “Ye are no trouble at all.”

  “I must ask you to stop again for prayers.”

  His heart sank. “Now?”

  She giggled and the tinkle of a hundred bells rose up to his ears. He wanted to hear the sound of it again.

  “In one hour.”

  “Verra well.” What else could he say?

  “Thank you for being so kind to me, Captain.”

  He closed his eyes behind her, feeling a little guilty for thinking about being more aloof with her. “Ye dinna have to thank me fer that,” he told her quietly.

  “You are not at all what I imagined,” she confessed.

  “What did ye imagine?” He didn’t know why he was asking.

  She turned a little in his lap and blushed looking up at him. “I imagined someone who only cared for war. Someone more savage and mean.”

  “Ye thought the captain was Mac?” Will asked, hearing as he passed them and answering before Galeren did.

  He moved on and Mac rode up in his place. “What did that bastard say aboot me?”

  “He said you were savage and mean and only cared for war,” she told Mac, surprising Galeren that she possessed a bold bone in her body. “A compliment of the highest form,” she continued. “For a warrior, aye?”

  Galeren watched with a smile as Mac nodded slowly, admitting no offense had been committed. He was still smiling when his friend rode away. She turned to look up at him from beneath her veil.

  “No one has ever turned his heart away from fightin’,” Galeren marveled.

  “’Tis evident by his appearance,” she told him softly. “Fighting is likely his whole life.”

  Galeren nodded.

  “How can a man take offense to a friend’s accolades?”

  He laughed. Indeed, how could he? She was correct and it had worked on the most cynical of them all.

  “So, all I have had to do all these years,” said Galeren with the residue of laughter on his lips, “was compliment him?”

  Her smile widened and made her sea-blue eyes dance. “Aye, ’twas all you had to do.”

  “Eventually, I would have two Wills on my hands!” he exclaimed in a horrified whisper closer to her ear.

  She laughed. The most dangerous, powerful sound to his ears.

  “How many years have you known them?”

  “I have known Mac fer nine years, Morgann fer one, and Padrig and Will fer seven. Padrig and Will are brothers,” he told her. “Padrig is the oldest. When they were seven and nine, their parents were executed before their eyes by the English king. Their mother was a chambermaid fer Lord and Lady Edmund Everhart. She was accused of stealin’ a costly jewelry set. Padrig and Will were sent back to an orphanage in Scotland. I dinna know the entire tale. Best ye let them tell it.”

  She nodded. “Thank you, Captain. I will. What about you?”

  He blinked. Did she want him to share some of himself with her? No. It was a bad idea. She was his charge. He had to keep his head on straight. There was no reason to get to know her better when he would deliver her back to Bamburgh and the priory in a fortnight and never see her again. “There is nothin’ we need to know of each other on this journey, Sister.”

  “I see,” she breathed after a moment. “I did not know we could not be friends.”

  “We canna.” He could not look at her and kept his gaze on the road.

  After an hour, they stopped in a forest so she could pray. Galeren was determined not to let her affect him. He had a duty to see to and see to it, he would. He didn’t need to watch her for an hour while she remained motionless.

  So he didn’t.

  No one saw the shadows coming up behind her.

  Chapter Four

  She was praying. It was so peaceful, so quiet—and then there was a hand over her mouth, and she was snatched away without a sound. She tried to scream but the hand was pressed so hard to her face she could barely breathe. Who would do this? Where was Galeren? He said his duty was to watch her. Could the hand possibly belong to him? He said he didn’t want to be her friend. She didn’t know why. Mayhap he didn’t like her. She didn’t know the captain or his men. Perhaps it was one of his men.

  She was shoved and her feet left the air. She landed on her side and hit her head on something hard.

  She prayed. God, protect her!

  She looked up and saw a man she had never seen before. He was dirty and wild-looking and he wore a smile that frightened her.

  The sound of swords clanging came into focus. Men were fighting. She prayed it was Galeren and his men. She closed her eyes as her abductor leaned over her, and she prayed for Galeren’s victory.

  “You a virgin, Miss?” the man asked in a gravelly voice.

  Oh please, Lord, don’t let him rape me. Her heart felt as if it would burst! What could she do against him? Could she kill him with her bare hands? She would begin with his eyes.

  She made the sign of the cross and he laughed.

  “Is this moment worth your eternal damnation?” she asked of him.

  “Aye. I will make certain it will be.”

  He tore her scapular and part of her chemise underneath.

  “Nay!” She clawed at his eyes, ready to gouge them out—and then he was gone, lifted off her by an exquisite warrior angel with death in his eyes.

  She watched for a moment while Galeren pulled the man to his feet. He looked surprised and then pleased at the condition of the man’s eyes. And then he delivered a savage swipe of his bloody blade to the man’s neck.

  Silene squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to scream. She’d never seen death before. She never wanted to see it again. She heard two things hit the floor, one much smaller than the other. She felt ill thinking about what they were. Her b
ody shook. She was afraid to open her eyes.

  Something soft like a blanket fell on her—it smelled like woodsmoke and the forest and rain. Like Galeren.

  She opened her eyes to find him swooping down on her and wrapping her in his plaid. He slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her, cradling her to his chest.

  “Fergive me. Fergive me.” His deep voice played like a haunting melody across her ears. “Are ye hurt?”

  Why did his asking for forgiveness make her tremble harder and want to weep in his arms?

  She thought of the violence against her, and of what the man had planned to do to her. She thanked God for sending Galeren.

  “Yer head is bleedin’!”

  “It hit a rock. I think.” She looked up at him, trying to hold back her tears. “Thank you.”

  “I should have been watchin’ ye, lass,” he said, sounding heavily burdened.

  “Captain Galeren,” A flash of her imagining what it would be like to touch him forged through her, making her feel warm and…guilty. “I forgive you. You saved me.”

  He lifted his gaze and smiled at her as they entered the camp. She almost smiled back and then looked around on the ground and gaped at what she saw. Nine men lay dead in the fallen leaves, bloody and in pieces. She cried out and buried her face in the captain’s léine.

  “We need to move oot of here now,” the captain ordered, his chest rumbling beneath her ear. “Morgann take my horse. Padrig take the sister’s.”

  Both men hurried off. Mac quickened his pace toward them. “Is she hurt?” he asked when he reached them.

  “Aye,” the captain let him know, motioning to her head. “We need to get her oot of here and take a look at her wound.”

  Mac leaned forward and had a look at the blood on her wimple and veil. “Dinna worry, Sister. We will fix ye up. Why is she covered in yer plaid?”

  “Because the man I killed tore away her habit and ripped her chemise.”

  Mac’s face transformed from his perpetual angry expression to one of raw fury. He ran both of his palms down his face and then tugged on his hair. “Captain, she is a nun! A nun!”

  His shouting made her seep deeper into the captain’s warmth and safety.

  “Mac,” she heard him say quietly. “Think of her right now, aye? The men are all dead. She needs help.”

  “Aye,” Mac agreed, seeming to calm himself. “There is a small clearin’ on the other side of those bushes.”

  “Lead us to it.”

  Mac showed them the way. The captain came to the other side and knelt on the ground. He set her on the grass and took a look at her. It was the kind of look that left Silene worried she was going to begin caring for him.

  “I will mend ye, lass,” he said so that only she could hear.

  She wept softly at his tenderness, at all she had been through and seen in one day. He wiped a tear from her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Ye are safe now,” he whispered. “I willna let ye oot of my sight again.”

  She smiled and nodded.

  He began to remove her headdress. She was afraid of what he would find. How serious was her head wound?

  When he finally freed her from the covering, his gaze fell over her, perusing her in the way a man might if he had never seen a woman before. But this man had seen many, she was certain. She felt naked before him. She looked away at first, but his gaze went softer when their eyes met again.

  He examined her, with Mac and the others watching and looking at her wound. Finally, the captain declared it not serious.

  “Ye are cut but ye will live.” He smiled at her and winked when he declared that bit of news. “I want to clean the area, and then we will do somethin’ aboot yer habit.”

  “I have hose and a tunic and belt in my bag,” she advised him. “Mother wanted me to wear my habit on this trip, but I had thought something a bit more rugged was better suited. If I had a chance or a reason to change, I would. Now, I have both.”

  Morgann was quick to give up his water so the captain could clean her wound. Will offered his as well, as did Padrig and Mac. The captain smiled at all of them and shook his head. “I will clean her with some whisky.”

  Their expressions dropped.

  “Our whisky?”

  “D’ye have someone else’s whisky we could use, Will?” the captain asked dryly.

  “This will burn,” he told her a short while later, holding a cup of whisky over her. She nodded and closed her eyes then cried out at the stinging pain. His touch was light and careful. He finished by wrapping her head in the thin coif of her headdress. He and the others then left her alone, guarding her perimeter with their backs to her while she changed her clothes.

  Riding her horse should be easier now, she thought, slipping her legs into a fresh pair of thicker hose. She had already been wearing boots, so she pulled them back on. She looked around and trusted that neither the captain nor his men would spy on her.

  She changed quickly into her woolen tunic, leaving her torn chemise on underneath. The tear wasn’t too bad, and there was a chill in the air.

  She clasped her belt and pulled her hair from beneath her bandage, pushing the longer front strands free off the cloth. Her wimple and veil were stained with blood. She wouldn’t put them back on until they were clean. How would she ever clean them? A river?

  When she was done, she called out to Galeren. “You and your men may return.”

  He’d saved her. She would never forget it. How could she? Aye, what he’d done was brutal, but brutality was sometimes granted. The man had meant to rape her. She was thankful for Captain Galeren and his men. She smiled at him when he appeared from the other side of the trees. She liked the way he walked with purpose toward her.

  She felt a pang deep in her heart. Something pulled it toward him. No! She would give her heart to no one. It wasn’t hers to give.

  “Ye look nice.” His voice was temptation itself.

  He’d saved her. She looked up and smiled then she lowered her gaze. “Thank you, Captain.” She handed him his plaid, remembering how he had covered her with it.

  “How do ye feel?” he asked. His potent green gaze was filled with concern for her. “Does yer head pain ye?”

  She lifted her fingers to the bandage. “Nay, there is no pain. Where did you learn to mend wounds? On the battlefield?”

  Reaching them, Will grinned at her with pity in his eyes. “We dinna mend anyone on the battlefield, Sis—”

  The captain shot out his hand and Will disappeared from her vision. She covered her chuckle behind her fingers.

  “Aye, ’tis how I learned it.” The captain took the plaid and squinted his eyes on her. “Did ye not have a cloak?”

  She blinked. She did have one. “It must have fallen off somewhere. ’Tis fine. I do not need it.”

  “I can go back and get it,” Morgann offered, reaching them and hearing what they said. “I will be quick,” he promised when his captain nodded.

  “Go with him,” Captain Galeren told Padrig. The giant left without a word.

  “Morgann has been very kind to me,” Silene told him. “You all have. I intend to tell my uncle how kind and respectful, and protective you all have been to me. I will also pray for all of you every day.”

  The three who were left smiled at her. The captain’s smile lingered a moment longer than the rest—and they were already staring at him as if they could see right through him.

  When the moment was over, he glared at them until they looked away.

  “Are ye ready to go then?” the captain asked her, his smile returning yet again.

  “Aye. I would like to try to ride my own horse,” she let him know.

  His smile faltered, compelling her to retract her words. “Of course. My horse canna carry both of us fer much longer.”

  “She can ride with me,” Will offered.

  The captain laughed as if the offer were too preposterous to even consider. “Come.” He led her to her mount and untied some of the bags fr
om the saddle. Now that her weight would be added to her horse, all the beasts would share the weight of these extra bags. None were too heavy as they had little food left.

  He held his arms out to her and she stepped into them, more comfortable than she had a right to be, or had ever been with anyone else. When he lifted her up, she gazed down at the stray locks of gold strewn across his clear, beautiful eyes. Her heart began to race.

  She reached for her saddle and practically leaped onto it.

  He was temptation in the flesh. She prayed and fit her boots into the stirrups. She gave the reins a gentle flick and the horse began to trot away.

  The captain stayed by her side, telling her what to do when they made a turn, or when they went over rocks or shallow water. She was doing well and taking command over her mount—but not much else. She found herself smiling or giggling often, not just because of him, but because of his men. They argued often, with Will usually at the core. They tried not to strike each other or swear. Their eyes darted guiltily to her often and made her want to laugh. Their banter didn’t bother her. In fact, she found it entertaining. With their brawn, and their swords, and all their leather trappings, they were fierce. Of that, she was certain. But not to her.

  They stopped for the next prayer and to eat afterward.

  Morgann and Padrig had caught up soon after they had separated. Morgann returned her cloak to her and smiled when she thanked him, making the other four gape at him.

  She denied knowing how she was able to get Morgann to smile when the captain asked her later.

  She’d said her midday prayer and was attempting to get into her saddle again.

  The captain let her do it on her own but did not stop Will from helping her into her stirrup.

  “Your aid is greatly appreciated, Mr.—goodness I do not even know what to call you.” She smiled at him.

  “Will, Sister.”

  She nodded and heaved herself up. She made it over the saddle, landing hard on her belly. “Well,” she said, a bit winded, “that was not so terrible.”

  “Aye, if ye want to ride around like a sack of grain,” Will said with laughter in his voice.

  He closed his fingers around her ankle and tossed her leg over the saddle until she straddled the beast.