Keeper of my Heart

by Laura Landon

  “Anything, mistress. You have only to ask.”

  Màiri nodded, then lifted her head to look at Donald. “Your laird is in danger. Someone wants him dead.”

  Donald straightened, his stance rigid and battle-ready. The step he took closer to her could have been intimidating if she did not already trust him as unconditionally as she trusted Iain.

  His hand slowly reached for the dagger at his side. “How do you know this?”

  “I just know,” she said, praying for a way to convince him without revealing more than was necessary.

  “Perhaps you are just overly cautious because of the threat from the Cochrans yesterday.”

  She shook her head. “It is more than that.”

  Donald held up his hand. “The possibility of a battle perhaps reminded you of the serious injuries our laird suffered when you found him. We all know how fond you are of your husband.”

  Màiri bolted from her seat and took three steps before she spun around to face them. “Someone tried to poison your laird tonight.”

  The frown on Donald’s forehead deepened and his voice when he spoke vibrated with a violent anger. “Why wasn’t I called? Does the laird know who is responsible? Has the culprit been found? Is he still alive?”

  “Iain does not know about the attempt on his life. I am the only one who knows.”

  Donald stared at her, his silence an indication that he found what she’d said hard to believe. “How did you discover the poison?”

  “The goblet of ale waiting at Iain’s place had been poisoned.”

  “How do you know?”

  Màiri held her breath, searching for a way to convince Donald without revealing her secret. “I just know. I lifted the goblet to hand it to him and…I knew.”

  Donald and Lochlan stared at her, waiting for more proof. “Perhaps you are mistaken, milady. Perhaps—”

  “The wine was poisoned!”

  Màiri fisted her hands at her side and took in several harsh breaths. “I have come to warn you that your laird’s life is in danger and to demand that you honor your oath to protect him.”

  Donald nodded curtly. She knew he didn’t believe her, but she didn’t care. He would do as she demanded because he had sworn to protect his laird. Both Donald and Lochlan would give their lives to keep Iain safe.

  “Do you know who left the ale at our laird’s place?” Donald asked. “Who we should most watch to guard against?”

  Màiri took in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Those closest to your laird are the ones most dangerous to him.”

  “Closest?”

  “As close as blood can make them.”

  Donald’s eyes opened wide while he shook his head in denial. He took a step away from her as if he wanted to distance himself from her accusations. “Do you know what you are saying, mistress?”

  “Aye. I would give my life if it were na so.”

  Donald shook his head. “Nay. That canna be.”

  The look on Donald’s face reemphasized that he did not believe her. Her gift told her the same. “I have na come here tonight to ask that you protect your laird, Donald, but to demand you do so. Do na take my warnings lightly or your laird will pay for your carelessness with his life.”

  Every muscle in Donald’s body stiffened at her rebuff. “I would never be careless in protecting either you or my laird.”

  “I know you would not, Donald, but I am in na danger. Your laird is.”

  A long, uncomfortable silence hung between them while Donald struggled with the news she had just given him.

  “What did you do with the ale that was poisoned?” he asked softly, his contemplative voice barely above a whisper.

  “I gave the goblet to Ferquhar with strict instructions to throw the ale down the shaft in the nearest garderobe.”

  Donald nodded. “Who knows you discovered the poisoned ale?”

  “Roderick knows. And he knows I know he is the one who poisoned it.”

  Donald slapped his hand against his thigh. “Ah, milady,” he sighed. “I canna believe—”

  “Do na doubt me, Donald. Your laird’s life depends on it.”

  Donald hissed a sharp breath then repeated his oath. “Have na fear, milady. I will keep the MacAlister laird safe and pray you are wrong.”

  “I am not. Begin your watch yet tonight. I pray he will not try again yet tonight, but it would na surprise me.” Màiri turned to leave but hesitated when she reached the door. “Have you gone to see your mother since you’ve been back?”

  “Nay. I was going to stop by but the hour got too late. I will go tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow will be too late, Donald. Go to see her yet tonight. It is important that you visit with her before tomorrow.”

  “Why, mistress? Is there something wrong—”

  Màiri did not listen to the rest of Donald’s question. She did not want to explain why it was important for him to go to see his mother. She walked down the lane that would take her back to the castle and into Iain’s arms. She could not be gone from him too long. He was not safe. Now that Roderick was aware she knew he had tried to kill his brother, he would try again—and soon.

  Chapter 18

  Màiri sat at Iain’s side where she’d been since coming back from Donald’s and watched every move Roderick made. Lochlan sat at the end of the table feigning interest in a tale one of the elders, Guthred, was telling. It was a tale every MacAlister had heard at least a dozen times before, but she knew that was not the reason Lochlan was here. He had come to watch over his laird.

  She looked at Iain, studying the look on his face then touching his goblet to make sure there was nothing wrong with it. Satisfied, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes for just a moment.

  “Come, lass,” Iain said, putting his arm around her shoulder. “It is time you were for bed.”

  “Nay. I will wait for you.” She moved her gaze to Roderick. He still sat across the table from Iain and smiled as if daring her to voice her suspicions.

  “’Tis all right, mistress,” he said, standing at his chair. “I am ready to retire for the night. I will leave my brother alone so you can take him above with you.”

  Iain gently squeezed her shoulder and laughed. “I am indeed lucky, Roderick, to have found a wife so devoted. Guthred and some of the older warriors tell me such submission fades with time so I will enjoy it while it lasts.”

  Roderick chuckled, the jovial look in his eyes brimming with laughter. “I think, brother, that you may have found the exception. I can picture Màiri still sitting by your side when you are both old and gray.”

  “Then I will indeed be a lucky man,” Iain said, rubbing tiny circles between her shoulders. “I know I will enjoy letting her keep watch over me.”

  Màiri smiled, hoping Iain would not notice the tenseness in her smile, or in her voice, or in every muscle in her body. “I fear I worried and slaved too long to keep you alive all those months ago to ease my guard now and let something untoward happen to you.”

  “What would I do without you, my Màiri?” Iain said, pulling her closer to him.

  “You would probably perish. But do na worry.” She turned her gaze to Roderick. “I will be here. I will know.”

  Roderick pushed his chair back in place. The smile on his face gleamed with what Iain and the rests saw as warmth and friendship, but what she saw as a warning. “I’m off to bed, Iain. I want to check our borders again tomorrow. Do na worry about anything. If there is any chance the Cochrans are not involved in the burning of the fields and cottages, I will find out the truth. Peace between us and our neighboring clans is just as important to me as it is to you. I will do all in my power to make sure your goals are achieved.”

  “I know, Roderick,” Iain said. “I could not ask for someone at my right hand more faithful than you.”

  “You canna know how much that means coming from you, Iain. All I can ever hope is to be worthy to stand beside you, through the good as well as the bad.�
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  The look the two brothers exchanged held volumes of meaning, but nothing as dangerous as what her gift told her. Her stomach turned at the lies that rolled off Roderick’s tongue with such ease. An oppressive pressure weighed heavy in her breast as she fought the overwhelming fear that warned her that Roderick was a greater threat than she would be able to protect Iain against.

  “I bid you goodnight, mistress,” he said, lifting the corners of his mouth to form a smile that issued a challenge. With a nod of his head, he turned and left the room.

  Màiri noticed Lochlan’s gaze followed him until he left the hall.

  “Are you ready for bed, milady,” Iain said, brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers, “or do you wish to sleep down here in your chair.”

  “It matters not, milord. I will be content to sleep wherever you sleep.”

  “Well, I want to sleep in my own bed with my wife nestled in my arms beside me. Come,” he said, helping her to her feet and leading her across the room.

  They passed Conan coming in the keep as they climbed the stairs. She was sure that he had come to take over the watch from Lochlan. She knew he would be right outside their room if she needed him.

  Iain closed the door to their chambers and took her in his arms. She opened herself to her gift, searching the room for any danger. Her gift came back empty. She could relax now with Roderick gone. Iain would be safe, at least for this night.

  “How did I ever manage before you came?” he whispered in her ear then moved lower to kiss the soft skin of her neck.

  “Very poorly, I fear, milord.” She pushed at the lacing on his shirt then skimmed her hands over the corded muscles across his shoulders and chest. She loved the feel of him. She pressed her lips to his warm skin. She’d come to care greatly for this man she’d taken as her husband. Even though the lonely life her mother had lived haunted every day of her life, she knew now she’d made the same mistake. She’d given her heart to a man who would in all likelihood reject her when he found out about her gift, just as her mother had been rejected.

  Cool air hit her body as her clothes fell to the floor while Iain’s magic fingers touched her skin, making her flesh burn with a need that took her to a special place where reasoning and thinking no longer existed. Iain was not like her father. He could never be so cruel as her father had been and lock her away.

  She pulled at Iain’s clothes, desperate to feel his flesh beneath her palms. Desperate to hold him in her arms.

  He placed her on the center of the bed then covered her body with his own. She welcomed him with open arms.

  Somehow, without intending to, she’d come to love him. She loved his strength and his gentleness, his kindness and his giving, and even his temper. What little she found that she did not love, she forgave. She prayed he could say the same. The day would come when he would be forced to forgive what he could not love about her. If he could not, he would never be able to accept her.

  Yseult’s words came back to haunt her. How long do you think it will be before our laird discovers your gift? Tell him before it is used against you. The thought sent a violent shiver raging through her and she clung to him.

  Their lovemaking was all-consuming. One errant tear streamed down her cheek as she clung to Iain’s trembling body, caressing his flesh, slick with a light sheen of perspiration from their lovemaking. Their rasping breaths echoed loudly in the silent darkness of the room and Màiri wished above all else that she could hold this moment in time and never go forward.

  “Iain,” she whispered softly after his breathing had returned to normal.

  “Aye, lass.” He rolled to the side, taking her with him and holding her close.

  “Do I please you?”

  “Aye. You please me.”

  “I have something to say, but before I do I want your promise that you will but hear my words and then close your eyes and go to sleep. Will you promise?”

  He lifted his head and looked at her. She could barely see his expression in the moonlight, and was thankful.

  “What if I canna make such a promise?”

  “Then I will wait until you can.”

  He laid his head back down on the pillow, then took the bedcovers and pulled it up around them both and held her tight. “Very well. I will promise to listen and hold my tongue when you are finished.”

  She sighed. “You swear?”

  “Aye, lass. I gave my word. I will listen to what you have to say then go right to sleep.”

  She ignored the impatience in his voice and nestled her head on his chest snugly beneath his chin.

  “I love you, Iain MacAlister.”

  She felt every muscle in his body bunch in response. His heart beating beneath her ear skipped a beat, then pounded like a herd of thundering stallions racing across a Scottish meadow.

  There. It had been said. She prayed he would remember her words when the worst came.

  She closed her eyes and slept.

  . . .

  It was the middle of the night and he was still awake, reeling from the shock of her words. Iain was not so surprised that she had admitted them, he’d known for a long time that she loved him, but confused because she would not allow him a response. Perhaps she was right to be unsure of his feelings for her. He didn’t understand them himself. If only she did not mistrust Roderick so. If only—

  A noise outside the door startled him and he quickly threw a cover over his wife to hide her nakedness, then reached for his sword beside the bed.

  “Iain,” Conan’s voice whispered from the doorway.

  Iain was halfway out of bed. “What is wrong?”

  “It’s Janet. Lochlan sent word she is having the babe and wants the mistress to come.”

  She stirred beside him. “What is it, Iain?” she asked, sitting up.

  He quickly lifted the cover over her shoulders before Conan saw more of his wife than Iain wanted anyone to see.

  She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, trying to wake. “Is something wrong?”

  “Nay, lass. Lochlan has sent word that Janet is having her babe. You can go to her in the morning.”

  Before his sentence was half finished, she moved to lift the covers from the bed. Iain pulled the covers back over her and threw his leg atop hers to hold her still. “You can leave, Conan.”

  “Aye, laird. I’ll tell Lochlan the mistress will be right there.”

  Iain heard Conan’s laughter halfway down the hallway.

  “Surely you do na intend to go to Janet tonight? This is her first. It is hard to tell how long it will be before the babe arrives.”

  “It does na matter, Iain,” she answered, dropping her chemise over her shoulders. “I promised Janet I would be with her. I have to go.”

  Iain knew there was no changing her mind, so with a heavy sigh, he pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed to get dressed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I am going with you.”

  “Nay. I don’t want you to.”

  “You don’t think I’m going to allow my wife to go out alone in the middle of the night, do you?”

  “I will na be alone. Conan will take me.”

  “Conan can come if he likes, but I am going, too.”

  “Nay.”

  “Why?”

  “It is na place for a man.”

  “I will stay with Lochlan. He will undoubtedly need my support.”

  “That is na necessary.”

  Iain clamped his fists atop his hips and glared at her. “If you want to leave this room, wife, then it will be with me at your side. Otherwise…”

  She pursed her lips into a frustrated pout. “Then you must promise me something before we go.”

  “Nay,” he said, waving his arm out in rejection. “I have already made one promise tonight that nearly killed me to keep.”

  From the crimson color that brightened her cheeks, she knew her earlier demand had been unfair. “What is it? You might as well tell me why you do na want
me to go with you, because if I do na go, you are na going either.”

  Her shoulders sagged in resignation. “Very well. Janet has decided she will na have her babe without Yseult there with her. If you canna abide that, then I do na want you there. It will na be good for Janet.”

  Iain felt his heart skip a beat. Why on earth would Janet want that witch at the birth of her babe? Why would Lochlan allow it?

  “The choice is yours, Iain. This night will be long enough for both Janet and Lochlan without you making it worse.” She fastened a MacAlister plaid around her shoulders and headed for the door. “Stay here if you canna help.”

  She didn’t wait to see his decision, but headed down the hallway, leaving him to follow. It wasn’t until they had crossed the drawbridge that he broke the silence. He looped her arm in his and led her through the darkness, holding high the torch he’d grabbed going out the door. If not for him, she’d be in the dark now.

  “Why did you na want me to say anything when you said you… you… when you said what you said earlier?”

  “Because. It was important to me that you know how I feel. I did na want you to feel obligated to say something that was na true. Nor did I want you to say something you might wish to take back later.”

  “You think I would lie to you?”

  “It is better if you said nothing. The words do na matter. You will know when they do.”

  They reached Lochlan’s cottage before he had a chance to ask more. The main room was empty except for the two chairs pulled away from the wooden table and a bright fire burning in the fireplace. The door to the bedroom stood open. When they stepped inside, Lochlan stood at the foot of the bed, his face a pasty white and his hands fisted into white knuckles at his side. Ysuelt was already there as was Janet’s mother and sister.

  Everyone acknowledged him except Yseult, who waited until last. “Laird,” she greeted, turning to him with a closed look on her face.

  He did not answer her. He couldn’t. His mistrust and hatred ran too deep. Wasn’t she the one responsible for Adele’s death? And now Lochlan was placing his wife’s life in her hands.