Forbidden Heart

by Quinn, Paula

  Mac and the others playfully jeered their captain.

  “What distracts ye, Brother?” Lionell asked and returned to his fighting stance.

  “My thoughts drift to Silene. I want to see her, and she will not allow it.”

  “Aye.”

  “What d’ye mean, aye?” Galeren’s stare turned to a dark glare.

  “She told me,” Lionell told him and thrust his sword at Galeren’s belly.

  Galeren smacked the blade from Lionell’s hand and stepped closer to him. “When did she tell ye? What did she tell ye?”

  “This morn. A wee bit before dawn, in truth. Are we still practicin’?”

  Galeren shook his head. “I might kill ye.”

  Lionell nodded. “That is what I told her.”

  Galeren ran his palm down his face and clenched his painful jaw. “Brother, ye had better explain. Start at the beginnin’.”

  So, Lionell told him. “We prayed together.”

  Galeren couldn’t be angry that she had gotten this lad to pray. “Why is she stayin’ in her room and not seein’ me? Is she angry with me? Afraid? What did she say?”

  “She doesna want to end up in yer bed a day before yer vow is over.”

  Galeren gave him a doubtful stare. “She told ye that?”

  He knew Silene better. She wouldn’t bring up such things with his brother.

  “She told Adela,” Lionell told him. “Adela told me.”

  So, she was staying away for his sake. He should have known. “’Tis considerate of her,” Galeren decided out loud. “But I still feel like breakin’ down her door.”

  “One more day, Brute. Ye can do it,” Lionell said and made way for Galeren’s next opponent.

  “’Tis refreshin’ to know ye dinna have complete control over yerself, Cap,” Mac said, stepping forward. “Ye are mortal like the rest of us.”

  Galeren swung his heavy claymore and cracked it against Mac’s. They practiced for another two hours and then headed for something to eat.

  “Where should we start?” Mac asked Lionell, rubbing his sore thigh.

  “Start what?” asked Galeren.

  “’Tis the last day of my vow,” Mac told him. “Lionell is goin’ to take me and the lads to the village.”

  “Ah, aye, the end of yer vows,” Galeren said. “Where is Will? He didna practice today.”

  “Last I saw him,” Padrig advised him, “he was sharin’ words with yer cousin, Geva.”

  Geva! Uncle Nicky’s daughter!

  He rose from his seat in the dining hall and pushed his chair out behind him. Beautiful, sweet Geva with Will? No. What was his friend doing? Why would he go after Geva? Aye, his cousin was captivating, with large, sable eyes and glossy, chestnut locks that fell to her waist. She also possessed just enough sauciness to hook Will, but his uncle would skin his arse if he touched her.

  Galeren was on his way to Nicholas’ manor house when the front door opened and Will stepped inside.

  A swirl of dried leaves blew into the house.

  “Where is Geva?” he asked.

  Will blinked his eyes and shrugged. “I havena seen her since this morn.”

  Relief flooded through Galeren. He let himself smile but Will narrowed his eyes on him.

  “Ye thought I was with her. Ye were comin’ to save her from me. Aye? I know that look in yer eyes, Cap.”

  “She is my cousin. One of the youngest.”

  He did his best not to insult Will. “Ye are not known fer stayin’ by the side of one lass, old friend.”

  “Of course,” Will said and smiled but did not look at him. “I must go.”

  Galeren watched him leave and cursed under his breath. He would think of what to say later. He wasn’t used to being cautious with his men’s sensibilities—especially Will’s.

  He hadn’t left the house and was drawn as if on an unseen tether to the door of his brother Lucan’s room. He stared at the wood for a moment, as if it were the biggest obstacle in his life.

  He breathed, and then he knocked. After an eternal moment, he heard her approach the door. It opened.

  He couldn’t wait to see her face.

  Elysande appeared on the other side. “Oh, Galeren, Silene canna see ye now. She is deep in prayer.”

  He wanted just a glance. It was all right. He could wait until tomorrow to see her.

  He spied a glimpse of purple and heard his aunts and other female voices. “She must be verra deep in them not to be distracted by all of ye.” He smiled and went back to the practice field.

  His friends were all gone, eager to share the beds of village maidens. He unsheathed his sword and swung it in the air. The long metal blade danced in the sunlight, cutting through shafts of light. He balanced himself with his other arm—something Lionell had to learn in an entirely new way.

  Galeren braced his legs and brought his blade down again. This time, metal struck metal.

  Someone was there.

  His father’s blade parried then struck Galeren’s edge hard enough to rattle his bones a little. He tilted up one corner of his mouth and brought his sword down in a chopping blow. He knew how his father fought, like a breeze suddenly changing direction. Galeren had to be quick or—his father swept the flat end of his blade across the backs of his knees and threw him off balance. By the time he rose off his arse, his uncle, Cain, was upon him. He came in like a force beyond whatever one can think or imagine. His sword struck Galeren’s three times before Galeren could even parry. His father circled the two of them like a feline predator and came closer to the fighting. Soon, Torin would strike and his uncle would take an instant to rest his arm.

  They had done it before all throughout Galeren’s training, preparing him for the world outside the gates.

  He parried his father’s strike to his legs and struck his uncle’s back with the flat of his blade.

  They retreated but only to circle him, joined by his uncle, Nicholas, the youngest of the three brothers and least barbaric among them.

  “Let us see if you were paying attention, Nephew,” Uncle Nicholas challenged softly and struck from the right. Cain came from the left, his father, behind him.

  He had been paying attention all those years. It was what kept him alive on the battlefield. He watched and listened and swung. A parry to the left, a jab to the right, swing around back and remove a head.

  Of course, this was practice. He wouldn’t actually take a head—but he could come close if they weren’t careful.

  He fought them for an hour with his cousin, Tristan, and his other cousins joining his side.

  In the end, the younger men saw victory. Galeren was glad. For if his father and uncles had won, they would feel as if they had failed the lads and would begin the strict training again.

  No one wanted that.

  He looked toward the manor house…her window. She was there, watching him. She lifted her palm and smiled at him. His heart accelerated. He lifted his palm in response.

  His father and uncles all came around him and ushered him away with advice about his wedding night.

  “Bein’ chaste fer six years has its disadvantages,” his father supplied while they walked to the manor house. “Ye will be done before ye begin.”

  “Aye,” his uncles agreed. “Ye need to go spend some time alone—”

  Galeren held up his hand to silence anymore advice. “All will be well. Dinna fret aboot my weddin’ night.”

  “But ye are both like virgins!” Cain protested. “Ye need some help from men who—”

  “Uncle,” Galeren cut him off, not wanting to hear of their prowess with his aunts and mother! “Both of us bein’ like virgins is all right with me. I like the idea of us teachin’ each other what is pleasin’.”

  His father patted him on the back and smiled at him. “Let us go drink to yer upcomin’ nuptials and yer excellent skills.”

  They walked to the solar in Torin’s manor house and drank their kin’s fine whisky. Among many other things, they disc
ussed what to do when the high steward arrived.

  “He doesna seem like the type to let this go,” Cain said. “We should kill him.”

  “What aboot King David?” Tristan asked. “Will no help come from him?”

  “No. None,” Galeren told them. “He can do little from where he is. Still, he willna kill us fer doin’ what must be done if John attacks.”

  “The king will take your side?” Nicholas asked him.

  “Aye.”

  “How do you know for certain?”

  “Because I’m friends with John on the king’s orders.”

  All the men straightened in their chairs and stared at him.

  “I mean, the king doesna trust his cousin, John. He never has. He is sure John had his hand in his capture and arrest at Neville’s Cross. He sent me to befriend his rash cousin and wait fer him to plot against his rival, David. That is what I have done.”

  “Ye have been a spy fer nine years, learnin’ the high steward’s secrets?” his father asked, looking prouder than ever before.

  “Three years, actually,” Galeren answered. “Before that, David was free. Once David was imprisoned, my role changed. I have learned much. The king calls his cousin a thief and a heartless, disloyal scoundrel. He is correct. John has his hand in the royal coffers. He robs the coin to pay killers to silence any Scots noblemen who comes against him. David knows aboot all of it because of me.”

  “Why has David done nothin’ aboot it?” Cain asked. “Even if ’twas to order ye to kill him?”

  “He wants John only after his cousin plots against him. John havin’ Silene killed willna cause the king to move. ’Tis murder, not treason. John could always come back somehow and become king.”

  “Perhaps he won’t plot anything against the king at all. They are cousins, after all,” Nicholas offered.

  Galeren shook his head. “Once he had the seat secured, he likely would have made his move against the king. I dinna care if we lost our chance, Silene wouldna make a promise to God to prove John wanted the throne, and I would never ask it of her.”

  They all agreed, knowing the king might not share their sentiments. Silene might have the king against her as well as the high steward.

  Would he put his kin in danger to protect her?

  “We will leave,” he said.

  “No, ye willna leave,” his father told him. His uncles agreed. “King David isna only yer friend. Most of yer cousins fought with or fer him. And we,” he motioned to himself and his brothers, “fought with his father, Robert the Bruce.”

  “Aye,” Cain agreed. “But even if he still comes here—we will stand with ye, lad.”

  “Ye have my gratitude,” Galeren said softly. He loved them. He didn’t want them to stand against the king. If David went against him, Galeren would take his wife and leave.

  He prayed it didn’t happen.

  “Son,” his father said, “tell us how ye stayed true to the king’s orders these years withoot some kind of friendship growin’ between ye and the steward.”

  “Friendship did grow, but I can separate it from duty, save when it comes to my men. Fer them, our friendship comes before all else.”

  “Rumor traveled as far as Invergarry,” said his uncle, Nicky, “that the high steward put you in charge of everything. He practically gave you his position.”

  “’Tis true, he handed everythin’ to me, his army, even his children. That is why he canna muster his army against me and must hire a new one. My men willna fight me. Well, most of them. John didna completely trust me. He had one of his men implanted into my ranks. Morgann Bell. I found oot and tied him to a tree near Jamie Treskil’s cottage.”

  “Jamie is in Perth visitin’ his brother.”

  “Aye, as I later discovered. I saw Morgann alive after that and let him go free. Perhaps he went into the woods.”

  “Fittin’ punishment fer a traitor,” one of them said. The others agreed.

  Galeren remained quiet. Now that a little bit more time had passed, he could think more clearly. He’d liked Morgann and to think of his head smashed to bits by a swinging boulder was unpleasant. Not so though for any mercenaries. He was glad he never told John about the forest.

  He wondered if any of his kin worried about mercenaries getting in. He knew they had the upper hand in the walled town. They had positions along all the walls. But no defense was impenetrable. They were not in a castle but in a house with different ways inside. Galeren wondered if the stronghold was built the way it was for a reason. His father and uncles were clever. There was much defense here. They were safe here. Even the shepherds outside the gate were safe. Every house was within sight of someone patrolling the walls. “I was thinkin’ of usin’ Jamie’s cottage tomorrow night fer our weddin’ night. I want to be completely alone with her. Withoot any of ye tryin’ to give us more advice or any of the women or Father Timothy—or Lionell at our door.”

  “Verra well,” his father said. “I will make certain the cottage is heavily protected.”

  “There ye are, Galeren,” Father Timothy said as he appeared and went to Galeren’s side. “A word, please.”

  “Of course, Father.” Galeren passed his kin a concerned looked and then followed the priest into the church.

  Midnight settled on the manor house, but Silene couldn’t sleep. She sat in her chemise in a chair by the open window and looked down at the moonlit practice field. He’d been there today, looking so fit, so graceful and yet savage as he fought. His father and uncles pushed him until Silene was sure he would fall, but he didn’t. She knew they wouldn’t kill him but, still, each moment struck her nerves until she thought she would cry out to him to look out!

  She didn’t have to. He saw every blow about to strike him.

  And when the fighting was finally over, he looked up as if feeling her there, watching as she was. She missed him.

  Just one more night and they would be wed. What would it be like to be his wife? What would it be like to have a family, a motherly woman who dotted on her? Braya spent a lot of her time with Aleysia and Julianna, who were often accompanied by their daughters, Elysande, and Adela or Geva. Braya had no daughter. Until now.

  Silene didn’t mind the adoption. She hadn’t seen her own mother in years. She—

  A soft rapping at her door drew her from her thoughts. Who could be knocking at this hour? She left the chair and padded to it.

  “Aye? Who is there?”

  “Arise, my love, my beautiful one,

  and come away.

  O my dove, in the clefts of the rock,

  in the crannies of the cliff,

  let me see yer face,

  let me hear yer voice,

  fer yer voice is sweet,

  and yer face is lovely.”

  Silene lifted her hand to her mouth. Song of Solomon was one of her favorite scriptures.

  “Open the door, my love.”

  She did as he bid her and opened the door a crack. When she saw his beautiful green eyes, she opened it a little more.

  “What are you doing here at such a late hour?”

  “I have come to wed ye, lass.”

  Daffodil meowed from beneath his hair falling loose to his nape. Her heart flipped and she couldn’t help but smile at him. “The morning approaches.”

  “’Tis after midnight. ’Tis tomorrow and the end of my vow. Father Timothy awaits us in the church.”

  “Father Timothy?”

  “Aye, he is the one who reminded me that I took my vow at midnight. Now, come quickly,” he whispered, and his eyes glittered in the torchlit hall. “I want to be yer husband.”

  “Now?” What was he saying? Marry now? “Let me get my cloak.”

  He smiled as if England just broke off and floated into the North Sea.

  “Will everyone be there?” she asked, leaving the door open and reaching for her purple gown.

  “Just us tonight, my love. We will have Father Timothy do it all over again tomorrow with our kin and yer gown
. Aye?”

  She smiled, nodded, and grabbed her cloak.

  “Come,” he beckoned, “tonight, I am chaste no more.”

  His words along with his low, whispered voice dripped down her spine like a flame igniting her blood. She was going to be his wife. Now. Her belly tightened. Her heart thumped hard in her chest. He hadn’t been with a woman for six years. He was hungry for her now.

  She wasn’t afraid. She remembered his hardness when he kissed her. Perhaps she was a bit afraid. Suddenly, she wanted to do what she could to postpone it. No. She wasn’t going to say her vows because she loved this man. She was happy to be his wife.

  They reached the church and held hands as they entered.

  Silene smiled when she saw Father Timothy. He was fast becoming her dearest friend.

  “Did Galeren explain how this is possible?” he asked after their warm greeting. “He made his vow at midnight exactly six years ago. It ended tonight.”

  Eager to get on with it, Galeren took her hand again and led her before the altar.

  Father Timothy smiled and went with them, with a Bible in his hand. He began with loving looks at them from under his fuzzy gray brow and reading from the Holy Scriptures.

  “Silene Sparrow, d’ye consent to becomin’ Galeren’s wife? To love and honor and obey him till death d’ye part?”

  She smiled. “Aye. I do.”

  He smiled lovingly at her then turned to Galeren. “Galeren MacPherson, d’ye consent to becomin’ Silene’s husband? To love, honor, and protect her till death d’ye part?”

  He consented with a wide, dimpled grin.

  A few more words were said, that Silene didn’t remember later, and then Father Timothy told them to kiss.

  “In the sight of the Almighty, I pronounce ye husband and wife.”

  That was it. She was Galeren’s wife. She thought the ceremony was a bit short and smiled at her husband’s eagerness. She wondered if she would still be smiling in the morning.

  They thanked the good priest and Galeren handed him Daffodil for the night.

  “We are not going to the manor house?”

  He shook his head and led her up the hill toward Jamie’s cottage.