Forbidden Heart

by Quinn, Paula

  When she was upright, she gasped a little at the horse’s girth, but managed to keep her smile intact.

  “Since ye are wearin hose—ridin’ should be easier this way.”

  “You would expect.”

  He tossed his head back and laughed. “Poor lass. ’Tis not so easy to ride, but ye will do fine.”

  “Thank you, William.”

  Her gaze found the captain standing off with Mac, watching her. He smiled at her when their eyes met.

  Will chuckled, looking at the both of them.

  “You enjoy getting under their skin, do you not?” she said to him.

  “Ye dinna know how tedious fightin’ and killin’ can be,” he complained with a feigned sigh. “I must humor myself somehow.”

  She giggled behind her fingers. “You enjoy laughter.” She added nothing else when he waited for more.

  “As do ye,” he finally guessed with a crook of his mouth.

  “’Tis good medicine.”

  He agreed and made her laugh a little more before they set out again.

  The five men rode around her, encircling her in their power and size.

  “I must admit,” she told the captain, riding closer to him, “I am a little apprehensive about sleeping outdoors tonight. I have never done the like before.”

  “We are goin’ to stop at my grandparents’ farm in Hethersgill before we cross the border. ’Tis a bit oot of the way, but I was told my grandsire was ill and I would see him before headin’ off to Ayrshire.”

  “Of course,” she said, liking that his family was important to him.

  “We will spend the night there. I wouldna have ye sleep in the woods.”

  “What d’ye think John will say if we are late?” Will tossed at him. “We have already lost many hours with all the stoppin’ we have done.”

  “I will receive his reprimands when and if they come,” the captain assured him.

  She looked at him when his gaze returned to hers. She didn’t want him to receive reprimands. “Captain, I will take the blame for being tardy, as the fault is mine.”

  He smiled and her heart fluttered. “No, that willna be necessary. I can take care of hi—it.”

  She nodded, but she would not let the fault fall on him.

  “What made ye want to become a nun?”

  He was asking her to share a part of herself with him. As friends would. She was thankful and took a moment to think about her answer. “I did not want to at first. I was forced by my uncle. But ’tis difficult not to fall in love with the Lord when you learn of Him. ’Tis no longer a burden. I am happy.”

  His smile stiffened just the slightest.

  “What is it, Captain?”

  “Nothin’.” He shook his head to give more emphasis to his response. “I’m glad to know that ye are happy.”

  But he was not smiling.

  He didn’t smile for the next two hours.

  She had pulled back and let him ride away from her. Morgann began to slow his pace but Mac cut him off and rode to her, ordering Morgann to stand his position.

  “What is the trouble?” he demanded—but gently.

  So much for subtleties. But then, this was Mac the Menace. She’d made up the name for him. He liked it.

  “I feel the enormous weight of the task before you all to protect me.”

  He stared at her for a moment, his dark eyes trying to find the truth of her words.

  “’Tis not yer doin’, Sister. ’Tis the doin’ of a man we all serve. Yer uncle.”

  “Aye. He is truly blessed to have men like you and the others to keep him safe.”

  His steely eyes finally dipped to his horse’s head.

  “I know you like to fight,” she continued. “Your face is a testimony of your bravery.”

  She watched his menacing demeanor melt away with a smile. “Thank ye, Sister.”

  She nodded and used the moment to find out a little about him. “What were you like before you fought? What did you want?”

  “What did I want?” He looked at her like she’d just grown another head.

  “Was there a special girl?”

  “I was five and ten, Sister.”

  “Were you stubborn and cynical at fifteen?” she teased.

  “Aye. I already bore this scar and this one.” He pointed to two of his scars on his face. “I fought at my father’s side when the English rode through our village to claim it fer Edward. We killed ninety-four men and drove the rest away. Three days later, they returned in the night and set the village on fire. We tried to fight but the men were more concerned with savin’ their families and their homes. As they should be.” He paused when his gaze flicked to the captain. “I left the village and the fires and found the soldiers campin’ in the forest. Thirteen men. I killed them all. When I returned to my village, I found everyone dead. Instead of buryin’ my kin, I left and found the soldiers who lingered in the village when I had left the first time. I found the six of them. I killed them all. That is who I am.”

  Silene felt a chill run through her. He was so frank. “I’m sorry you lost so much in one day. But you are more than that.”

  He grunted something and rode away. She swiped some tears from her cheeks and prayed for her new friend.

  They continued on in silence and finally stopped just outside of Hethersgill for prayer. She was aware of the captain’s eyes on her the entire time. She tried not to let it distract her, but God knew she’d be lying if she said it didn’t. She would speak to the captain about it tonight.

  Still, she had to confess that she liked when she opened her eyes at the end of her prayers and saw him watching her. She wondered if he was feeling better. She decided to test it and smiled at him.

  He smiled back and the setting sun returned one more time to shine on him.

  “Who is cooking?” she asked, walking toward him. “It smells wonderful!”

  “Padrig,” he told her. “We will leave fer my grandparents’ farm after we have supper. I dinna want to impose upon them by addin’ six more mouths to their table.”

  “That is thoughtful of you.”

  He slanted his mouth into a dubious smile. “In truth, I enjoy Padrig’s cookin’ over anyone else’s.”

  She smiled and wanted to exhale a little sigh. “Padrig is very quiet,” she remarked instead.

  The captain nodded. “He speaks in the silence. Ye just need to know how to listen.”

  What would Mother Superior say if she knew Silene liked this group of warriors?

  “How was yer first day of ridin’?” he asked on their way back.

  “Too painful to speak of. My horse awaits my next error so he can make me look foolish again.”

  He laughed softly. “Horses know how we feel. He will know if ye are afraid.”

  “Aye, so I am doing my best to let him know I’m not, while still being kind and gentle.”

  “Hmm, ye know well how to control people and animals.”

  Her smile faded. “Is that what you think I am doing?”

  He shrugged and looked at the men readying to eat and then ride on to Galeren’s grandparents’ farm. “Morgann smiles. Mac laughs with ye. Will was even helpin’ ye gain yer saddle. ’Tis not like any of them.”

  “They are good men.”

  “Aye, I know that but it doesna change the fact that they are behavin’ differently. I wouldna see them hurt.”

  “Oh, good! We agree then.” She smiled slightly, hoping he saw the absurdity of his concern.

  He nodded, still looking a bit concerned.

  “Captain.” Her gaze on him softened. “I am making it clear to each of them that they are my friends. My friends. They are responding to kindness. ’Tis natural.”

  They sat around the fire with the men and after a quick prayer of thanksgiving by Silene, they ate Padrig’s delicious hare stew with sweet and savory peach and herb sauce, mushrooms, and carrots.

  She could understand why the captain enjoyed Padrig’s cooking. They ate th
e last of the bread with a little bit of honey and washed it down with water.

  “We will have to stop in a village tomorrow for more supplies,” Mac said, swigging the last of his whisky.

  They all agreed and set out for the home of the Hetheringtons’ farm. The sun had gone down hours ago, at least two hours after six. She wasn’t accustomed to staying awake after her last hour of prayer and nearly fell asleep on her horse.

  “We are almost there, lass,” the captain said softly close to her and her blood felt a little warmer coursing through her veins. He felt so close that she thought she might have fallen asleep and he pulled her onto his lap and whispered in her ear.

  No one called her a lass. She liked how it sounded in his deep, gritty whisper.

  “I do not mind.”

  “Ye are no longer afraid to sleep ootdoors, then?” he teased gently.

  She shook her head. “Nay, I’m not.”

  “Yer faith in God is admirable.”

  She smiled, liking his humility. “He sent me you.”

  Chapter Five

  Galeren sat on the edge of the bed and held his grandsire’s bony, weathered hand in his strong, capable one.

  Rowley Hetherington was in his last days. His breath was shallow and weak. He didn’t open his eyes to see his grandson or acknowledge him at all.

  “He started his slow decline a month ago,” Galeren’s grandmother, May, had told him. “I wrote to your mother, but you know how long messengers take.”

  “Well, I am here now,” Galeren told her. “My men and I are here to help with whatever ye need.”

  “Oh, but you have a duty to see this lovely sister to the high steward and the church,” his grandmother reminded him.

  “They can wait a bit,” Silene was quick to tell her from where she stood at the foot of the bed. “Caring for the sick should be the first priority to all members of the church, so I’m sure they will understand.”

  Galeren had the urge to smile at her. Where did this courage to stand up to the church if she had to come from? Did he want her to have to?

  “Captain,” Will appeared at the door. “Mac got himself mixed up in a bit of a scuffle with some of yer cousins. I think ye are needed before my brother gets involved.”

  Galeren grinded his teeth together then let go of his grandsire’s hand and left his chair. He was angry when he walked out. These could be the last moments with his grandsire and he had to take charge over selfish men—his best friend among them. He realized as he left the house, that he left Silene in there, alone with his grandmother.

  “Ye can barely lift the fat of yer belly off the table,” Mac shouted. “I would like to see ye lift a sword and face me, ye cowardly son of a–”

  “Commander!” Galeren shouted, cutting him off. “Wait fer me…” He looked around, remembering coming here as a young lad after his grandparents left Carlisle. “Wait fer me ootside the hen house.”

  “Where the hell is the hen house?”

  Galeren pointed then glared at Will when he snickered. “Go with him.” He raked his gaze over Padrig and Morgann, the latter of whom, he knew did not find this humorous.

  They both lowered their gazes.

  “Jonathan of Brampton, son of my mother’s cousin, what is the meanin’ of this?”

  His second cousin balked at him. “You take the side of a man of war over your own blood?”

  “Aye, I do,” Galeren told him. “When I trust that man with my life—and besides, I barely know ye. Now, why dinna ye tell me what this fight is all aboot?”

  It seemed Mac had threatened to rid Galeren’s kin of their teeth—without help from anyone else. Jonathan laughed while he told him, but Galeren didn’t doubt Mac could do what he’d said. There were seven men here. Reivers. Some were old and some were young. It didn’t matter. Mac was a ruthless madman when he fought.

  “I once watched Mac walk through a sword swingin’ at his face so he could get to his enemy’s throat with his dagger. He doesna care what he has to go through to get to ye. Dinna put yerself in his way, Cousin. He will remove ye.”

  He went to Mac after his cousins promised to stay out of Mac’s way. When he found his friend, Galeren expressed his disappointment in him. His old friend apologized and sent him back to his grandsire, vowing profusely to keep himself and the others in check.

  When Galeren reached the room, he stood in the doorway while John’s niece sat in his chair, praying over his grandsire.

  She didn’t cease when he came inside, proving to be comfortable in his presence while she prayed.

  She remained at his grandsire’s side, praying and speaking softly.

  “What a wonderful gel,” his grandmother commented to him a little later when she asked him for some help in the kitchen. “I do not need any help,” she confessed, winking up at him. “I wanted to speak to you alone for a few moments.”

  He put his arm around her. “Of course, Grandmother. What is it ye wish to speak to me aboot?”

  She stared at him with deep blue eyes. “I would like to…to see my daughter, Braya, one more time before I die. Rowley cannot make the trip. But after…I wish to go to the Highlands and see my daughter.”

  Of course, he would take her. How could he refuse such a request? “Aye. I will take ye. I know my mother misses ye. She speaks of ye whenever I visit. Uncle Galien should come as well. ’Twill be colder by the time I am free to take ye so—”

  “Pardon me, Mrs. Hetherington.”

  They both turned when they heard Silene’s voice. “Your husband is awake and asking for you.”

  Galeren’s grandmother gave her a stunned look and then smiled and made the sign of the cross and hurried off.

  Alone with Silene, he looked toward the room. “What happened?”

  She shrugged her delicate shoulders and followed his gaze then looked at him. “I was praying, and I heard him speak.”

  His eyes opened wider as he turned to her. “Who?”

  “Your grandsire.”

  They both smiled and then went into the room when he heard his grandmother call out for him.

  Rowley Hetherington was not sitting up in bed, but he was awake and speaking very softly to his wife. When his gaze found his grandson standing in the doorway, his bright gray eyes filled with tears.

  “Greetin’s, Grandsire.” Galeren’s voice sounded too loud in the stark hush that had come over the room. “’Tis good to see ye.”

  “Then why are you still standing way over there?”

  Galeren crossed the room in three strides. When he reached the bed, he bent to his grandsire’s arms and was engulfed in a firm but frail embrace.

  “How are ye feelin’?”

  “Not bad. Not bad. How long are you here for?”

  “Now, Rowley,” Galeren’s grandmother stopped him. “I told you he must deliver Sister Silene to the high steward.”

  “We shall see, Grandsire. I dinna think one more night would hurt.”

  His grandsire smiled and Galeren was sorry it had been so long since he had visited his mother’s side of the family. His grandsire had almost died without seeing him again.

  “How is my Braya?” he asked.

  Galeren smiled. “Still as quick and as deadly as ever. She has a happy life with my father.”

  They spoke for over an hour, until Galeren’s grandsire fell back to sleep. His grandmother remained by his side in case he needed anything when he awoke again.

  Galeren went in search of Silene. He found her in the village chapel deep in her prayers with Mac and Morgann guarding her at the door on the inside of the chapel.

  Joining them, the three waited in silence while she prayed.

  Galeren’s breathing slowed while he watched her, bathed in golden candlelight. She knelt before the small altar. Behind it, a wooden cross rose in the air. Her head was tilted upward. Her eyes were closed, and her hair was pushed off her face by her bandage.

  His thoughts brought him to her abduction. When he’d found her go
ne, his first notion had been that she had run away. But she hadn’t seemed the foolish type to put herself in such danger. She’d been taken. Under his care. But the panic and fury he’d felt hadn’t been because she was his responsibility and he’d failed. It was more than that. A little more that made him want to kill them all for daring to take her.

  There was no reason to keep watch over her so closely in the village. Mostly everyone who lived here was kin. But if anyone touched her, being kin wouldn’t matter.

  He’d asked his men to guard her and none hesitated to be about the task. They liked her. He had to watch them and make certain none of them cared for her in an inappropriate way. It wasn’t impossible for she was mesmerizing, an extraordinary feast for his eyes. Whenever she stepped out into the light of day, the world came alive with color.

  Of course, he could control his urges. Could Mac or Morgann, Will or Padrig? In truth, he had no idea what Padrig thought of her.

  Watching her, he knew to whom her heart belonged.

  She finished her prayers and stood up. When she saw him…them, she smiled and went to them.

  “Captain, how is your grandsire?”

  “Asleep,” he told her, doing his best not to smile like a fool. “Come, ’tis getting’ late.’

  They stayed the night and Galeren spent more time with his grandparents.

  “You fancy the orange-haired lass,” his grandsire remarked. He’d awakened and was even able to keep some soup down.

  “No, Grandsire. The high steward wishes me to be betrothed to another.” He hadn’t thought of Cecilia Birchet in days. He closed his eyes and didn’t see his grandsire’s sharp eyes on him.

  “Do you love this woman the high steward wishes you to wed?”

  “No. But even if I refused him, Silene is goin’ to be a nun.

  “She is not one yet. There is still time.”

  “No,” Galeren told him gently. “I am no lout to try and tempt her from the Lord.”

  His grandfather’s smile faded. “You are very much like your father.” He sighed and then smiled again. “I like the one with the red hair.”

  “Silene,” Galeren reminded him gently, patiently.