Forbidden Heart

by Quinn, Paula

  “Greetings,” his mother said brightly. “Do I call ye Sister or Silene?”

  “Silene.” Galeren called her Silene. She felt a slight smile tilt her lips. She couldn’t help it, she loved when he spoke her name, but it was destroyed by her next thought. What must this woman think of her? Braya Hetherington MacPherson had fought battles over borders while Silene couldn’t even resist a man.

  “Silene,” his mother repeated with a warming smile. “My son appears quite enamored with you.”

  Silene nodded. Her eyes moved to find him as if they had a will of their own. He stood with some of the most handsome men she’d ever seen, but Galeren stood out with his mother’s face and his father’s piercing green eyes. There seemed to be more of a smolder in Galeren’s gaze, though, he was looking at her.

  “He is very kind and patient,” Silene told her. There was so much more to say about him, but she was sure his mother knew. And besides, Aleysia d’Argentan MacPherson was approaching.

  “Tell me,” Braya leaned in and looked intently at her. “Would you say he is knightly?”

  Her eyes flicked for just an instant, but Silene saw it.

  “Oh, aye!” She tried to stop herself from sighing and grew a little lightheaded. “He saved me from men who had vile intentions toward me.”

  “Very knightly, indeed. Aye, Aly?”

  “I would expect nothing less from one of Torin’s sons,” Aleysia replied.

  She was every bit as striking as Braya, but darker. Elysande looked almost exactly like her save for the gray in Aleysia’s hair.

  “And God used him to save me from an arrow,” Silene added.

  Both mothers looked equally stunned and impressed. “God used him,” Aleysia repeated with a smile. “There is no higher honor.”

  Braya nodded and the two women giggled as if they were young maidens.

  Silene knew she would like these two. And there were more. Julianna Feathers MacPherson, Nicholas MacPherson’s wife had red hair like Silene’s. It was plaited into a thick braid that hung over her shoulder. It made Silene want to grow her hair again.

  “There will be many broken hearts when the lasses learn that Galeren the Bonny has lost his heart to a maiden,” Julianna told her. “That is when you will really have to watch your back as well as your front.”

  The others laughed good-naturedly. Silene wasn’t sure if she should actually pray about such a matter as jealousy. She knew she would be miserable if he loved another.

  “’Twill not matter if she is to become a nun,” Aleysia pointed out. Her voice was so soft and serene, Silene wanted to rest in it. “Or has our dear Galeren stolen your heart?” There was no malice in her tone, only curiosity.

  “He has not stolen it, my lady,” Silene said softly. “He has asked for it.”

  “And your reply?” his mother asked.

  The small crowd of women suddenly parted and Father Timothy came forward.

  “’Tis my turn to speak with her. If ye will excuse us. I willna keep her overly long.”

  They all agreed and watched quietly as he invited her to the private chapel.

  She turned to look over her shoulder at Galeren.

  He was surrounded by men, but his face was turned toward hers, his eyes, watching. His mouth, smiling.

  “It can get a wee bit overwhelmin’ when they are all together,” the priest told her while they left the manor house and walked toward a beautiful stone church. Its face and left side were covered in bare vines. All around the church were pale green bushes and a few evergreens.

  Silene imagined what it looked like in the beauty of spring.

  “Come.” Father Timothy opened the heavy, wooden door and ushered her inside.

  When she stepped into the foyer, the smell of candlewax wafted through her nostrils. She followed him into the inner sanctuary where hundreds of tiny lights lit the altar. They both knelt at the cross before slipping into one of the stone benches.

  “’Tis beautiful here,” she told him when he sat next to her.

  “Ye are welcome here whenever ye want to be here. The doors are never locked. Ye can also go to the main church in the village square,” he paused to chuckle, “but ye willna be alone.”

  She smiled. He made her feel at ease.

  “Galeren has told me much about you, Father.”

  “All good, I dare hope.” He didn’t look worried.

  She nodded. “All good. He loves you very much.”

  “Aye. He is a good lad. And he is in love with ye, lass.”

  Silene shifted on the bench. He certainly didn’t waste time. Nor had his mother. “But ye know this already.”

  Her mouth fell open. What should she say? The truth, of course. This was the man she had wanted to speak to since she began to question her life.

  “Aye. I know he loves me.”

  “How do ye feel aboot it?” His eyes were large and filled with compassion.

  “I…I love him, as well,” she answered quietly, afraid that her admission would be heard.

  “Is he the reason ye didna say yer vows before the church?”

  She wanted to tell him about all of it—about not wanting to further aid her uncle and more. But at the center of it all was Galeren.

  “Aye. He is the reason. Every time I think I have made my decision, I doubt it is the right one. As I was heading for the church where they waited for me, I could not—my feet did not want to take me inside. They wanted me to run to Galeren.”

  He smiled. His skin wrinkled and he winked his eye. “Ye know what to do, lass.”

  She shook her head and began to cry.

  “Silene,” his soft voice covered her. “God doesna think as we do. If ye love Galeren, marry him and have his babes. Ye can bring them here to pray with ye.”

  She stopped crying and looked at him. She hadn’t considered that. Oh! She would like to do that!

  “So, you do not think He is angry with me or with Galeren?”

  “No, child. He isna angry with ye. Remember, He is good.”

  She smiled, feeling the weight lift off her. Galeren trusted this priest’s opinions on God, and since it did match with what the priests at Paisley Abbey had told her, she wasn’t beyond forgiveness, she chose to believe Father Timothy, too.

  They spoke of spiritual things until Galeren came looking for her. “’Tis gettin’ late,” he told her. “My mother is eager to show ye to yer room and bid ye good eve.”

  “She will be angry with me fer keepin’ ye,” Father Timothy told them with a forced worried look.

  “I enjoyed our time together, Father. Perhaps another day.”

  He grinned. “How aboot tomorrow?”

  She laughed softly and agreed to breaking fast with him after her morning prayers.

  “Did ye speak to him aboot us?” Galeren asked her while they walked back in the moonlight.

  “He brought us up to me.”

  Galeren smiled but said nothing.

  “He told me you were in love with me.”

  Now he laughed, but it was more to himself than out loud. “I told him but I didna think he would tell ye.”

  Aye, she knew it, but to have him admit it…well, it made her swallow back hot tears. It snatched her breath just enough to make her want to cough. Her heart pounded so rapidly it made her want to fall into his arms, the only place she was safe.

  “He reminded me that God is good.” She smiled at him when he turned to her.

  She took his hand, weaving her slender fingers through his bigger, callused ones. “I am free to marry.”

  She felt his fingers tighten around hers the slightest bit.

  “Are ye now?” he asked with mirth dancing across the lilt of his voice and addling her brains.

  They played a little, but they both knew how sober the matter of God was.

  She nodded and rested her head on his arm. She loved being close to him.

  “I wonder how many suitors will call fer yer hand.”

  She laughed and
then lifted her other hand to his arm. “I’m going to miss sleeping with you, Captain.”

  “Lass,” he said, stopping before they reached the torchlight of the manor house. “I would love to bring ye right back to the priest and marry ye tonight, but my vow was said. I canna break it now. I fear if I hold ye next to me another night…in a bed, I willna have the strength to resist ye.”

  “Of course,” she agreed immediately. She looked up at him. “When is your vow over?

  “In four or five more days. I must check with Father Timothy, and then we will wed, if ye will have me.”

  She laughed feeling butterflies in her belly. “Of course, I will. But…”

  “Aye, love?”

  “I know nothing of intimacy,” she confessed.

  “No?” he asked in a low, doubtful voice. “I feel intimate with ye every time our gazes meet.”

  Her heart felt about to burst. “I love you, Captain.” She wanted to shout it from the walkways for all to hear, but she whispered so only he could.

  He took her in his arms and pressed her close. “And I love ye, Silene Sparrow.”

  He bent his head to hers. She closed her eyes and trembled in his arms as his mouth covered her. He tasted of eagerness and wavering control. His tongue swept like a curious flame over the deepest caverns of her moth His hands moved across her back, drawing her closer as his lips molded with hers.

  She groaned in his mouth and they both broke away from the other at the same time. It took every ounce of strength she possessed not to leap back into his arms. He looked as if he were going through the same battle.

  She smiled at him and he smiled back. Neither of them saw the pair of eyes watching them from the treetops.

  The doors to the first house opened.

  “Ah, there you are!” Braya Hetherington MacPherson threw up her hands. “Wait until I get my hands on that priest!”

  “Forgive me for keeping Father Timothy,” Silene said quickly and softly. “I had many questions. He was quite patient. ’Tis my fault. If you are angry, please let it be with me.”

  “Oh, I’m not angry with him,” his mother promised. “Now come, Silene, my dear. Let me show you to your room.”

  His mother took her arm and led her forward, walking together. She was a full head shorter that Silene, though she strode as if she were royalty.

  Silene told her about her conversation with Father Timothy and her decision not to speak her vows.

  “Well then,” his mother said. “Are we going to have a marriage celebration here soon?”

  Behind them, Galeren walked with his father, the legendary “Shadow” of King Robert the Bruce’s army, Torin MacPherson.

  “Braya, my sweet,” he said to his wife, “our son is required to woo her.”

  “Woo me?” Silene asked turning to him.

  “Aye,” his father said. “Woo ye. Court ye. Pay lovin’ attention to ye. He must do these things fer ye. Pen ye a sonnet or read to ye.”

  Silene believed she would like this wooing. “What do I do for him?”

  They all stared at her. “Wooin’ is fer ye,” Galeren’s father told her. ’Tis somethin’ a suitor does for the lady, to win her heart.”

  She covered her smile with her hand. She liked Torin MacPherson but she decided that if Galeren was going to woo her, she was going to woo him back.

  They brought her to the middle house, which was Torin and Braya’s house.

  “We break fast in the dining hall at an hour after sunup,” Braya told her.

  “Oh, dear!” Silene said bringing her hand to her chest. “I promised to break fast with Father Timothy. Forgive me for—”

  “We are happy ye and the good Father Timothy are gettin’ along so well,” Galeren told her. His parents agreed.

  “Make no plans for supper though,” his mother said, trying to look stern—which made her husband smile as he stared at her. “You will sup with us.”

  “I would love to. Thank you.”

  Galeren’s father beamed at her. “Ye are courteous. ’Tis a good trait, that.”

  Now Galeren was smiling at her. “Aye,” he agreed.

  “Do you know any of the tales of Arthur Pendragon and his knights?” Braya asked her, leading them inside.

  “Nay,” Silene told her, looking around at the carved wooden archways, and the well-lit halls. The house was deceptively huge, with a stone stairway and cut flowers everywhere.

  “If you stay with him,” his mother said, passing her, “you will learn them. Galeren knows every story as well as my husband knows them.”

  “Then your husband taught him well.”

  Braya’s smile warmed on her. She didn’t need to turn around and see the men. She could feel their gladness coming off them.

  “Your home is very warm and comforting,” she complimented, winning them over.

  “You will like your room then,” her hostess told her, walking her toward a softly lit hall with three doors. One on the left and two on the right. She brought Silene to the lone door on the left and opened it to a dimly lit room. The only light was from a candle in the window.

  “This is our son Lucan’s room. He is in England presently.”

  “Have ye received any word from him?” Galeren asked softly as his mother went inside and lit more candles.

  “Not for two years now,” his mother told him.

  “And where is Lionell?” Galeren asked his parents. “I didna see him in the solar.”

  “He is oot somewhere.” His mother waved her arms and laughed to herself, but there was no mirth in it.

  “Let us not speak of this before bed. ’Twill make fer troubled sleep,” his father said, stepping forward.

  “Aye,” his wife agreed with a smile. “We will speak of it tomorrow at supper and both of you shall tell me about my parents.”

  Silene nodded and looked around as more light fell on the room. She let her gaze rove over the polished wooden walls. The large bed with four wooden posts. Blankets of fur and wool were piled high on the bed. Three heavy, wooden chairs, laden with more furs, a table, and more filled the room.

  “I’m moved that you offer this room to me.”

  Braya looked at Galeren and smiled. “Oh, I almost did not remember. My son has given me your prayer schedule. I have let the guards know that they may see you.”

  Silene didn’t know how to thank them enough for all they had done. She would make herself useful around the house. She knew how to cook. She could clean, launder, sew, all of it. It was all required learning at the priory.

  “Well, love, I will let ye sleep,” Galeren bid her good eve but neither of them wanted to part.

  If Silene’s chest could have opened, she was sure her heart would have burst forth and into his arms, perhaps kiss him once more.

  Now that she believed she was free to marry Galeren, it was all she could think about.

  She bid him good eve with a heavy heart and missed him before he shut the door to the room. They would wait until his vows were fulfilled. But it would be difficult.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Morgann heard rustling above him—in the trees. They walked in the trees here. He looked up but he saw nothing in the moonlit branches. Was he losing his mind to the constant cold? It wasn’t freezing, but he hadn’t moved in hours. The slight chill in the air and his shivering were becoming unbearable.

  He was thirsty. Thirst always came first.

  He deserved this. Silene had almost died. He was so glad she was alive. He didn’t owe this kind of allegiance to anyone, even after what the steward had done for him.

  John had found him on the road to Edinburgh. His feet were burned and blistered from the heat below and having no shoes. He hadn’t eaten in…in truth, he had no idea, save that it had been a long time. He wasn’t used to it. One never grew used to starvation. But he’d gone without eating before. He knew what to expect. He was weary. Bone weary of living.

  He was twelve.

  John had taken him in and gi
ven him back his life. He never went hungry again. He learned how to fight with a sword and shoot an arrow. He grew strong and fit and John put him in his army at fifteen.

  He’d known of Captain MacPherson since he’d come to Dundonald. Everyone knew of him and his closest group of men. Morgann used to watch them ride through the inner gates, home from doing the king’s duty, champions of Scotland. He’d aspired to be friends with them, men like them. He looked up to the captain and worked hard honing his skills in the hopes of fighting next to him someday.

  But it wasn’t fighting that brought them together.

  It happened one cold winter’s day when John and some of his men, including Morgann, rode home from Kilmarnock. They stopped to rest their horses by the river Irvine. John was restless and went to the water’s edge. He lost his footing and fell into the freezing water. The current was pulling him farther away from shore. Some of the men jumped in to save him but they, too, were swept away. With no time to think, Morgann jumped in. He swam with the current, directly to the steward and managed to grab hold of him. He swam back with John in his arm, but his limbs were too numb to go back for the other two.

  When the captain, who had just returned from hunting their lunch, saw what was happening, he dove into the water and saved the other two men.

  John threw Morgann a celebration that night and asked the captain to personally train him.

  At first, Morgann had been happy to train with the captain, until John came to him and demanded that he find out if the captain was truly loyal to him. How about his men? Morgann couldn’t refuse. So, while he was training under the captain’s tutelage, he was also keeping his eyes on the captain and his men.

  He didn’t report everything to John. Mac and the others questioned many things the steward did, but Morgann never spoke of any of it.

  When John ordered Sister Silene’s death, Morgann didn’t want them to do it. He went with MacKinny and D’Ato to stop them. But the captain would never believe him. He was a traitor. That was all that mattered.

  No one came home to the cottage. It was empty, abandoned. He thought he saw a couple going toward a house on the hill. He thought of calling out to them but he’d have all the MacPhersons on him in ten breaths.