Forbidden Heart

by Quinn, Paula

  “Aye. She has a sweet face and a kind demeanor.”

  Sweet face? She was glorious to behold, like seeing a flame come to life, like wanting to dive into the deep, blue-green oceans of her eyes. The delicate cut of her jaw carved by a master sculptor.

  “I need to get her to John and find a priest fer confession.”

  His grandsire laughed. “’Tis good to see you, lad.”

  “I will return to see ye again when I return her to St. Patrice’s.”

  “Why not let someone else do it?” his grandsire put to him. “I’m sure the high steward has other capable leaders.”

  Galeren shook his head. “I wouldna trust anyone else to guard her the way I can. She was injured once already because I wasna watchin’ her.”

  “What happened?”

  He told Rowley about the men who had tried to abduct her and how he’d killed the man who’d hurt her.

  “Good,” his grandsire said. His eyes were lit with fire. Galeren could almost taste the ash. Rowley Hetherington had been a formidable, fearsome man in his younger days. But when he came home from a raid, he had a wife he loved at home waiting for him.

  Galeren thought he might like that, too. He’d never had thoughts like these before. He never thought he’d live long enough to have a wife and children to love. If he were to ever marry…

  “Son.” His grandsire covered Galeren’s hand with his and pulled him closer. “You should take her back to the priory now. She is no match for schemes of devious men. She will die.”

  Galeren blinked his eyes. “Grandsire, how could she die? What are ye sayin’? That I should disobey my orders from the high steward?”

  “What?” His grandsire gave him a blank look. Then he said, “I’m sleepy. Bring your grandmother to me.”

  Galeren stared at him and gave his heart a moment to slow down. His grandsire must have fallen asleep for a moment and spoke his dream. “I will bring her to ye.” He leaned to kiss his grandfather’s forehead and then left the room.

  Why had his grandfather said Silene could die? By whose hands? The church’s? Something frigid cooled his blood and dried his mouth. Was he leading her into danger? Was the warning just words slipping from an old man’s mouth? Aye. It was ramblings. Nothing more.

  When he found his grandmother, she told him to see to his friends. “You know the house, my dear. Put everyone where you wish.”

  He looked around the house. Did he remember the rooms? Were there three or four? No matter, Silene would take a separate bedroom. He and his men would sleep in the large front room.

  When it came time to settle in for the night, he walked Silene to her door.

  “How is he?” she asked him, passing him a quick smile.

  “My grandmother says he looks stronger than he has in a month.”

  “God is good.”

  He stopped at the door and nodded. “Father Timothy’s favorite words.”

  “I wish I could hear more about him. Is he like the priests I will go before in Ayrshire?”

  Galeren knew some of the leaders of the church. Father Timothy was not like most, but he didn’t want to frighten her about the stern demeanors of the church. “No. He is different.” He opened the door for her and stepped aside without going in. “If ye need anythin’, I will be just ootside the door.”

  She seemed to forget about the church. Her eyes opened wider. “Outside the door? You…you will sleep outside the door?”

  “Aye. ’Tis my duty.”

  “Even here?”

  “Everywhere.”

  Her smile softened on him, making his bones ache a little. “Very well, then. Good dreams, Captain.”

  Why did he feel the need to keep her near? Protect her from an unseen, unknown enemy? He shook his head at his grandsire’s warning.

  “Good dreams, lass.”

  He watched her close the door then he turned and slid down the cool wood. He removed his boots, but he didn’t remove his belt or swords. He trusted his men and had no doubt that Silene was safe, but it was his nature to be cautious. People could try to break in from outside.

  He closed his eyes, well used to sleeping on the hard ground. He heard a sound from the other side of the door. A moment later, he felt her move against the door and tried not to smile.

  “Captain?”

  “Aye, lass?”

  “Are you very sleepy?”

  He opened his eyes and looked at the door. “No, lass.”

  “Nor am I.”

  He heard the sigh she let out almost seeping through the wood and into his bones.

  “Will you tell me about your Father Timothy?”

  “He is more like a grandsire to us than the town priest,” he told her, pressing his ear gently to the door. “He devoted himself to my uncle, Cain, after the English murdered my grandparents and separated the three brothers. The English took my uncle with them. He was seven and raised on the battlefield. Father Timothy took care of him and taught him about God amidst all the bloodshed. When my father found his brothers, the priest took them in under his wings. He has been in all my cousins’ lives from their births and has often reminded us all of how God had blessed him, puttin’ him in the service of the MacPherson Clan. He is a gentle man, but he has fought on the battlefield against the English.”

  “Aye,” she said, sounding like a satisfied cat. “I imagined he was most likely a gentle man.”

  He laughed softly. “Oh, how did ye know?”

  “Because you are gentle.”

  “Lass, I’m a warrior,” he whispered through the door.

  “You are gentle with me. Back at the priory, I feared that you would not be. I prayed about it often as it weighed heavily on me. But I feel safe with you. You and your men have been very kind. Thank you.”

  Galeren closed his eyes. They were silent for a moment and Galeren thought she may have fallen asleep.

  “Is it true, Captain? Are you chaste?”

  “Aye, ’tis true. I finish my six years in less than a month.”

  “Six years! You are a very disciplined man.”

  “’Tis gettin’ more difficult the closer it comes to bein’ over.” And being near you, he wanted to tell her.

  “I…I will pray for you.”

  “Thank ye,” he said softly.

  “Good dreams, Captain,” he heard her faint whisper.

  “Good dreams, lass.”

  He was awakened several hours later when she opened the door and he tumbled into her room, sprawled out on the floor. He opened his eyes to find her standing over him with a smile she tried to cover with her hand. She’d taken off the bandage around her head and her curls tumbled over her eyes.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked, kneeling beside him.

  “No,” he answered.

  “Then why are you still on the floor?”

  “I am a bit dazed.” He sat up and smiled at her.

  She giggled again and he stared into her eyes. He saw too much in them. He saw parts of her heart, sadness, regret, desire, shame. It made him feel worse. Like the worst kind of lout because he was sure he was the one making her feel these things. And yet, it took his strongest resolve not to lift his fingers to her smooth skin, not to smile and pull her in for a most forbidden kiss.

  He pushed himself up and onto his feet.

  She followed, rising like a flame. He took a step away and then around her and stepped out into the hall. She left the room and moved past him while he slipped on his boots.

  He would keep his distance from her today. He was no monster. He would have Mac—

  “I wish we could stay with your grandparents a little longer, Captain,” she said, pausing to let him catch up.

  “Aye.” He wished the same, but it wasn’t wise to remain with her longer than he needed to. “But yer uncle expects ye today and ye willna be there. We will already be a day overdue.”

  Her smiled faded. She stepped back. “Aye. We do not want to be overdue to my uncle. You are a very disciplined sold
ier.”

  He nodded—though at the present moment, he took no pride in it. He didn’t know how much longer his discipline would hold out. He wanted to share his smiles with her, touch her cheek, her hand. He wanted to seduce her, with the hope of kissing her. But she was forbidden. He tried to see her the way, it seemed, others saw her. Not as beautiful. But then he’d watched her laughing with his men or lost in worship that made her weep. When she spoke to him, he found himself wanting to make her smile.

  “In this case, lass, I must be.”

  She straightened her shoulders and set her chin with resolve. But her fortitude didn’t reach her eyes. “You are correct, Captain,” she said and turned to leave.

  His resolve didn’t falter. He wouldn’t let it.

  He swallowed as she walked away to join his grandmother in the kitchen. He wanted to go the other way, out the front door. He would leave without her. Let John send someone else, or let his men take her the rest of the way.

  But it was his duty to take her to John, to protect her. He wanted to protect her. The wilds were dangerous, especially for women. He wouldn’t leave.

  He entered the large front room and spread his gaze over his men, his friends. They were all on their feet. Mac was fixing his belt to his waist. It sagged from the many weapons attached to it. Padrig was adjusting the leather straps crisscrossing his back, a long claymore attached to each strap. Will pulled on his boots, a sword at his side and a bow and arrows slung across his back.

  Only Morgann stood ready to go.

  “Mornin’, Captain,” he offered first then was followed by the other three.

  Galeren let a smile pass over his lips and then looked toward the kitchen. He wasn’t as disciplined as she gave him credit for being. She would change her opinion of him quickly if she knew of his foolish, reckless desire to go to her even now.

  “Everythin’ well, Cap?”

  Galeren widened his smile on Mac. “Aye. I was thinkin’ aboot…ehm…”

  Mac nodded. “We know. We will miss her as well.”

  “Your dear grandmother has done everything she could,” Silene’s dulcet voice fell like the sound of bells across his ears, “but she could not get the bloodstains out of my veil and wimple.”

  Galeren and Mac—and the other three all turned to the sound of her.

  She stood in the doorway, there being nothing feminine about her silhouette in her hose and tunic, her hair cut above her ears. And yet, she was the most perfectly delicate woman Galeren had ever looked upon.

  She held her veil and wimple out to them. The blood staining both was lighter, pinker, but it was still blood.

  “I cannot wear it!”

  Galeren offered her a sympathetic gaze but, and he was surely going to hell for this, he wasn’t sorry that she couldn’t wear it. He raised his eyes to her mop of fiery hair atop her head.

  “Mayhap we can find another habit fer ye, Sister,” Will suggested with a reassuring smile that turned a bit mischievous when Galeren set his eyes on him.

  Her eyes widened with hopefulness. “Will we be stopping in any other towns?”

  Galeren unclenched his teeth. “Aye.”

  She smiled at him, looking relieved. It pricked him in the guts. This was who she was. Almost a nun. He had to accept it and leave her alone.

  He swallowed a hundred words and nearly choked on them all.

  Chapter Six

  Forgive me.

  Silene said ten more Hail Marys as they crossed the border. The prayers though were not for her safety, but for her soul.

  She thought about getting ready for bed against a wooden door that was surprisingly warm. She imagined the captain’s body, asleep on the other side, had warmed it. He haunted her dreams. He liked her. She could see it in his eyes, in his gaze that followed her. But he was well disciplined. She was glad. Wasn’t she? She said another twenty Our Fathers. It sickened her to think of the betrayal of her upcoming vows.

  What kind of woman was she to fall captivated with a man just because he was gloriously handsome? Of course, there was more than that or she wouldn’t have given him a spare thought. She shouldn’t be sparing him any now! He was thoughtful. He hadn’t complained once about stopping so often. He’d even tried to find the most peaceful, beautiful spots for her. He was patient with her and with his friends and kind to his grandparents.

  She shook her head at her inability to stop thinking of him.

  I need Your help.

  She said one last prayer and made the sign of the cross and opened her eyes.

  He was there. A few feet away, his gaze ever on her. His duty. Was it more than that? And why her? She was plain and…red with all her curls cut off. Surely the captain could have his choice of many women, she thought rising off her knees and going to them.

  “We will stop in the market town fer supplies after we cross the border,” he let her know, finally looking away—and then returning his attention to her. “’Tis not far.”

  Should she smile? No. They needed to stop smiling at each other. It was tempting.

  She nodded and then walked by him, talking to God instead of the captain.

  You have to know he is tempting. I cannot seem to resist him. I want to smile at him all the time—even just after an hour-long prayer of repentance. Oh, I need Your help!

  “Carrot soup fer our midday meal, Sister,” Mac informed her when she stepped into the camp.

  “’Tis all we had left,” Padrig defended while fixing her a bowl.

  “Well then, we are blessed to have you to prepare it.”

  He smiled, proving her earlier point to the captain. Padrig was a gentle giant. Beneath all his hair, he was a darker, bigger version of Will. The captain said he did not smile often. Silene didn’t agree. Padrig was shy, but he had no shortage of smiles.

  “The captain ought to do all the buyin’ and tradin’,” she heard Morgann telling the others. “We will likely get double.”

  “That will take all day,” Mac said, shaking his head.

  “Why will you get double if the captain does the business?” she asked, accepting Padrig’s bowl.

  “The lasses.”

  “Will!” The captain stopped him from saying anything more.

  She turned and laughed at the glowering leader as he took his seat beside her on a log. “What about the lasses?”

  “’Tis nothin’,” he muttered. “Let us eat and head oot.”

  She looked around at the others. They all had their bowls in their hands. “None of you have eaten yet?”

  “We waited fer ye,” the captain said, taking his bowl.

  How was she supposed to resist smiling at him? “That is very thoughtful of all of you.” She offered them her best smile after she prayed over their meal. The men prayed with her.

  Her heart swelled as she tasted the soup.

  As she suspected, it was delicious, seasoned with an array of spices and something sweet…perhaps a dollop of honey.

  When they set out a little while later, Silene noticed that she and the captain rode apart with the men between them, but they kept gravitating back to each other. Each time they did, they looked equally puzzled at how they had gotten there. He stayed close when they crossed the border. No one tried to stop or rob them.

  “I think our horses are friends.” She chuckled, sounding more nervous than amused.

  He agreed and then glared at Will on the other side of him when Will muttered something under his breath.

  Why were his men teasing him about her? She moved her horse further away from him and met Morgann’s solemn stare.

  “The captain is verra protective of ye,” Morgann remarked, drawing his horse nearer.

  “’Tis his duty,” she reminded the Highlander.

  “Aye,” he agreed.

  “Tell me about you, Morgann. How did you come to ride with the captain at so young an age?”

  “The steward fell into a ragin’ river and I jumped in and saved him.”

  She smiled a
nd her eyes opened wider. “That is something to be proud of!”

  He shrugged and looked more somber than ever, but he would say nothing more.

  “You can speak to me about anything, Morgann,” she assured him. “We are friends, aye?”

  He smiled and nodded but said nothing more about his past.

  They chitchatted for a little while longer and then came to the large market town of Hamsertown. Silene marveled at the wood and stone houses built around the market. Trees divided stone to break through the ground and spread their branches. Vendors filled the center of the market. She gaped at the sight of colorful banners whipping in the wind about their tents. Each bore a likeness of their wares. Candles, torches, handheld bags made of leather and felt, strings of different colored wool and thread, just to name a few.

  They didn’t stop but rode through the town. Turning left, they saw even more vendors and flags. This area was dedicated to food. They sold various fresh and salted meat and fish, fruit, herbs, grains, and beans.

  Padrig broke off first and headed to a meat vendor. Will went off with Mac, and Morgann stayed with her and the captain. But before they reached the vendors, Silene saw three small, dirty children playing with rocks. She smiled at their innocence, but it faded as the obvious became apparent. They were poor. Their clothing was tattered and stained, as were their faces. They were thin and their skin was sallow. The sight of them made her eyes burn.

  “Captain, may I stay here with them?” she asked.

  He looked like he might refuse her. She would stay anyway if he did. His gazed flicked to the children and then to Morgann. He nodded. “Stay with her,” he told his friend.

  Should she not smile at him for giving in to her wish? For her or for the children’s sake, it didn’t matter. Of course, she should smile at him for his kindness!

  He turned away without seeing it. She was about to frown and begin reciting ten Our Fathers when her gaze swung to Morgann’s. “’Tis good that ye care fer them,” Morgann told her. “Likely no one else does.”

  She went to the horses. He followed her. He didn’t protest when she took the last of their fruit out of their supplies bag. But even if he had, she merely had to turn her gaze on him for him to remain quiet. She didn’t want to have to beg him for food to feed these hungry little ones, but she would.