Highland Hero

by Hannah Howell

  When Kenneth reached out and covered her breasts with his hands, she murmured in pleasure. “I dinnae suppose ye are doing that to preserve my modesty.”

  “Nay, I dinnae suppose I am.”

  She laughed as he pulled her to him. Her happiness might be short-lived but she was determined to luxuriate in it while she could.

  Chapter 7

  “I wish ye could help instead of just watching,” Kenneth grumbled at the faint image of the young boy that floated along at his side.

  He picked up a piece of fallen tree branch and tossed it into the little cart he dragged along behind him. Collecting firewood was a menial task for a knight, but he had to admit that he enjoyed it. It was pleasant to walk through the sunlit forest on a crisp fall day.

  It had been a fortnight since he and Isbel had become lovers, and he had almost immediately begun to help with the work around Bandal. At Glenmal he had done his share of the work but only that deemed worthy of a knight. At Bandal there were no servants to leave the less desirable chores to—only Pullhair, who arrived every day at sunset.

  As he bent down to pick up another piece of wood, Kenneth suddenly found himself face-to-face with a very small creature. Not daring to even blink, he studied the thing floating just in front of his nose. It was a woman, a very small woman with wings. His mind told him it was a fairy, but he did not wish to hear that. The tiny woman suddenly grinned and Kenneth gaped. She looked exactly like Isbel. He gasped in shock and straightened up. For one brief moment the creature stayed right before him. Then she vanished.

  He glanced at the ghost of the small boy, who smiled shyly, then back to the place where he had seen the tiny winged lady, and shuddered. What was happening to him? He was seeing things he should not be able to see. Worse, he realized with a start, he was accepting such things as if they were a normal part of life. He treated Pullhair as a friend, a man he could talk with about most anything. Ghosts flitted in and out of his sight and he did not even twitch, had even begun to talk to them. Yesterday, he was sure he had heard one of them answer. When Isbel had told him not to go outside two nights ago because the Sluagh were riding, he had accepted her words without question and stayed indoors. And now he had fairies popping up in front of him and grinning at him.

  “Nay,” he snapped as he threw the firewood into the cart. “I willnae be pulled into that pit of madness.”

  Kenneth was not really surprised to see that the boy had vanished. He was a very timid ghost. Dragging the little cart behind him, Kenneth started back to the tower house. His steps slowed a little as he neared the heavy gates of Bandal and he began to wonder what to do next.

  While his anger had been hot, he had intended to march into Bandal, leave the firewood, and forcefully announce that he was leaving for Glenmal in the morning. He knew he could not do so, yet he also knew he had to leave. Each day he stayed with her, each day he breathed the air of Bandal, he became more deeply mired in its strangeness. If he did not get away very soon, he never would, because each day he also found himself becoming more and more willing to stay in Isbel’s slender arms.

  Isbel smiled at him as he entered the kitchen and he felt his heart sink. Leaving a lover had never been very hard for him. He would fill their ears with words of gratitude and sweet regret, give them some gift and ride away. For some reason he could not even consider treating Isbel that way. He knew he was going to have to be completely truthful, and for one brief moment he resented her for not allowing him to play the same game that he always had.

  “I think I saw an elf,” he announced, watching Isbel closely as he put the wood he had collected in a box by the fireplace.

  There was a tone to his voice that made Isbel tense. She was not sure if it was anger she heard, but she was certain that he was far from pleased. A harsh curse echoed through her mind. He had accepted Pullhair and seemed at ease with the ghosts, but she knew he still did not want to believe in it all. Now he had seen one of the truly fabled creatures of the netherworld. It had to have recalled him to the fact that he was in a very strange place seeing things he did not want to see. The fates could have chosen a more willing recipient of such gifts, she thought crossly as she began to knead her bread with more force than was needed.

  “A lass or a laddie?” she asked with hard-won calm.

  “A lass. I bent down to pick up some wood and there she was right in front of me, so close she could have tweaked my nose.”

  “Ye must have startled her from her hiding place.”

  “Nay, she didnae look startled and I didnae flush her out of some bramble. She just appeared. Now that I think on it, she looked curious.”

  “Aye, faeries can be very curious.”

  “And she looked like you.”

  He said the words in a cool, flat voice. There was no compliment intended, but no insult either. Kenneth had just been strongly reminded of her unusual bloodline and he did not like it at all. Isbel struggled against a sudden urge to weep and flee the room. She knew what was coming next—the farewell. He was going to flee Bandal before he could see or learn any more.

  For one brief moment she wondered if the faeries had sent one of their own to appear before him. They knew everything that happened at Bandal so they knew how badly she wanted Kenneth to stay with her and how uneasy he was about the magic of Bandal. It would not take much thought to realize that he only needed to see a few too many of the spirit world’s secrets in quick succession to be sent running home.

  Inwardly she shook her head. She could not blame the faeries or the ghosts or even Pullhair. Such things had always been hard for mortals to bear. It would have been wondrous if Kenneth had been different, but she should not condemn him because he was not, nor should she try and grasp some reason, some place or person to blame.

  “I am sorry ye were given a fright,” she said quietly.

  “Nay, not a fright really.” He stepped up beside her and idly stroked the thick braid hanging down her slender back. “I was but awakened to all I have been skillfully ignoring.”

  “Aye, I understand.”

  “Do ye? Ye were born to this. I was not. Ye have probably been taught that ghosts, faeries, and all such creatures are but a part of life. I was taught that they were the creatures of dreams, nay, nightmares. Ye were taught to understand them. I was taught to fear them.”

  She wiped the flour from her hands and turned to face him. “I could teach you to understand.”

  “Could ye? I am eight and twenty and was taught my fears as a child. ’Tisnae easy to banish the lessons set firmly in one’s mind and heart whilst he was still young.”

  “And ye arenae sure ye really want to understand.”

  Kenneth could see the hurt in her wide blue eyes. He could even feel it and that disturbed him. It implied that he was truly and deeply bonded to Isbel and he did not think he wanted to be that close to her, to anyone. Such closeness left one’s heart bared to sorrow and pain. That was something any reasonable man would shy away from. As he stared into her captivatingly beautiful eyes, he was not sure how reasonable he would remain if he stayed with her. The only thing he could be grateful for was that she had no idea of the power she had over him.

  “Nay, I dinnae think I do. Lass, do ye ken how close ye stand to the secrets death holds? Ye are knee deep in the spirits of ones who have died and e’en ken where they journey to or at least the path they must take. That alone is enough to make a hardened warrior tremble.”

  “Ye didnae seem too troubled by the ghosts.” She was not sure she understood why suddenly all he had accepted was now unacceptable.

  “I wasnae, and that worries me.” He dragged his fingers through his hair and scowled as he looked around the kitchen. “ ’Tis as if this place has put a spell on me. Not only do I see things I never saw before but I am beginning to treat such sightings as but a part of life. Weel, it may be a part of life at Bandal, but it doesnae exist outside these lands.”

  “It does. ’Tis just that most people dinnae see
it.”

  “Exactly. I want to be one of those blind, ignorant people again.”

  “Can ye just forget all ye saw and learned here?”

  “I can try.” He could see the glint of tears in her eyes and pulled her into his arms. “Lass, ’tisnae ye I run from. ’Tisnae ye I want to push from my mind.”

  After briefly hugging him, she stepped out of his light embrace. “But it is. I am Bandal. It is me. I believe I was fated to come here because this is where I truly belong. Patrick’s kinsmen could have taken back the lands, for the marriage was a short one and there was no child, but they didnae. They gave it to me. Everything that has happened to me since I came here has only shown me more clearly that I belong here.”

  “Ye could leave. Ye could come with me,” he said impulsively, then realized that he badly wanted her to. He wanted to leave Bandal and all its spirits behind but not her.

  “Nay, I dinnae think I can.”

  “Why? Are ye trapped here?”

  “In a way, for I am needed here, wanted and accepted. And this is all I own. Then, too, taking me from Bandal will change little.” She smiled sadly. “My gifts werenae born here, merely strengthened.”

  “Ye mean to say that, wherever ye go, the same things will happen,” he said quietly, disappointment sweeping over him.

  “Aye, more or less. The magic is strong in Bandal, but ’tis everywhere. Faeries, brownies, ghosts, and all the rest, are everywhere. If ye must get away from such things, then ye must get away from me.”

  “I am sorry,” he whispered and wondered if she would ever know how much he regretted leaving her.

  “So the fool is running away, is he?”

  Isbel looked up to see Pullhair standing beside her. She tossed aside the rag she held, suddenly realizing she had been rubbing that same spot on the table since Kenneth had walked out of the kitchen several hours ago. The pain she felt seemed to have become part of her blood, flowing through her constantly with every beat of her heart. She did not really want to discuss it but knew Pullhair would prod at her until she did.

  “Aye, he is leaving in the morning. He saw a faerie today and she smiled at him. He has decided that he has had a bellyful of the magic of Bandal and cannae stomach any more.”

  “He is a coward.”

  “Nay, for he really doesnae flee out of fear. Aye, ’tis there, as it is in all of we poor timid mortals. Kenneth simply doesnae want to be a part of all this. He doesnae want to ken all the secrets this place holds. He doesnae want to see what few others ever will. He wants to return to what he was.”

  “And ye will just let him go.”

  She stood up so abruptly she knocked her stool over. “Aye. What would ye have me do? Tie him to the bed until he changes his mind? E’en if I could be so bold, it wouldnae work. As he says, this isnae his life, isnae what he was raised to accept or e’en like.”

  Pullhair shook his head. “I had thought him a better mon than that.”

  “Oh, I think he is.” She smiled sadly. “He just doesnae think he wants to be. I can understand that. There are times when I heartily wish I wasnae what I am. I wish I could look into the shadows and see only shadows or walk through the forest and see naught but the trees. The blood I carry and the gifts I hold can sometimes be a great burden, Pullhair.”

  “That is only because your people willnae accept them.”

  “And what is wrong with wishing to be accepted, e’en liked, by your own kind? That is what Kenneth runs back to. He may ne’er say so, but if he accepts me, then he must accept near banishment by his own people. The choice is either me or the rest of the world. I was ne’er given that choice, but he has it and I cannae fault him for returning to all the others.”

  “But he hasnae e’en given ye a child yet,” he grumbled.

  A chill ran down Isbel’s spine. One thing that had kept her from total despair was the thought that Kenneth had left her with child. Pullhair’s cross words killed that hope.

  “Are ye sure?” she asked, her voice tight with emotion.

  “Aye. Here now,” he cried in alarm when Isbel buried her face in her hands. “Dinnae start weeping. There is still hope.”

  “How can there be? The mon leaves in the morning.” She righted her stool and sat down, knowing that Pullhair’s presence was all that kept her from succumbing to her intense grief.

  “There is still this night.”

  She gaped at him. “The mon is leaving me. Am I to go to his bed after he has said fare thee well? Surely that would mark me as little more than some hedgerow whore.”

  “Nay. Ye are letting your pride rule ye again. Ye became the mon’s lover with no promises made nor love words spoken. In truth, ye entered his bed kenning that he might leave. I cannae see how it makes much difference now that ye ken for certain he will leave and when.”

  Isbel sighed and gently rubbed her forehead with her fingers. “Weel, it does. I am nay sure I can explain the why of it, but it does make a difference.”

  “Weel, ye had best swallow your pride again.”

  “Why? Why cannae he swallow his pride?”

  “Because he willnae. ’Tis certain he willnae twixt now and sunrise. So, ye must be the one to do so.”

  “I begin to get a bellyache.”

  Pullhair reached out and yanked her braid, ignoring her sharp curse and easily avoiding the swat she aimed at him. “Ye want your belly filled, lassie, and ye cannae get that wish by sitting here weeping and moaning.”

  “I am not weeping and moaning. The mon might well be offended if he kenned we were using him for stud.”

  “Are ye planning to tell him?”

  Her natural inclination to be honest welled up inside her, but she ruthlessly quelled it. “Nay, and I shall have to do a penance for that.” She sighed and idly drummed her fingers on the table. “Are ye certain that, if I lie with that mon tonight, I will bear his child?”

  “Now, lassie, ye ken that I shouldnae be telling ye such things.”

  “Pullhair,” she snapped, then took a deep breath to ease her temper. “Ye are asking a lot of me and have your own purposes for doing so. I ken well that ye are my friend, but ye dinnae push me into the mon’s arms solely for the sake of my happiness. For that, I think I deserve something. All I ask is some assurance that, if I go to Kenneth tonight, I will wake with child come morning.”

  “Aye, ye will.”

  “Thank ye,” she whispered. “I am treating the mon most dishonestly and myself most dishonorably. Howbeit, I will do all that and more if it means I can hold a child in my arms.”

  Kenneth frowned when there sounded a soft rap at the door. He had just retired after a somber, quiet, and somewhat tense evening meal with Isbel and Pullhair. There was a good chance it was Pullhair at the door preparing to scold him or try to talk him into staying and Kenneth was certain that he did not wish to see the little man.

  He opened the door and gaped. Isbel dressed in her fine linen nightgown with her hair loose and flowing over her slim shoulders was the last thing he had expected to see. For a moment he was afraid that he had not made himself clear.

  “Isbel, did ye heed me at all this afternoon?” he asked uncertainly as she slipped past him into the room.

  “Aye, ye are leaving when the sun rises,” she replied as she sat down on the bed, clasping her hands in her lap to hide the way they trembled.

  “Yet ye have come to me?”

  “I do understand why ye must leave.” She frowned when he shut the door but continued to just stare at her. “Why are ye looking at me like that?”

  He smiled crookedly as he moved to stand in front of her. “I suppose I was feeling a wee bit unsettled because ye arenae upset o’er my leaving.”

  “I didnae say I wasnae upset. I said I understand. What I may have misunderstood was that ye were truly saying farewell this afternoon, setting yourself away from me right then and not in the morning.”

  When she stood up, he caught her in his arms, sat down on the bed, and s
ettled her on his lap. “Nay, I am glad ye came to me tonight, more than words can say. I fear I am just confused as to why ye would do so after I have told ye I am leaving.”

  So ye can give me a child, she thought but bit her lip to keep from babbling out the truth. “Ye ken that I want you,” she said, staring at their clasped hands to hide her blushes. “Ye saying fare thee well doesnae end that wanting. I like the way ye can make me feel and this is the last night I will e’er have the chance to savor that pleasure.” She peeked up at him and felt the warmth of his gaze enter her blood. “I think no other mon will e’er make me feel as ye do and, let us face the cold, hard truth, there are none about to teach me otherwise.”

  The mere thought of another man touching Isbel both hurt and enraged Kenneth, but he fought to push such feelings aside. He had no right to feel them because he was walking away from her. He decided it might be wise not to think about who she might be with or what she might be doing once he was gone. The feelings raging through his body told him he could easily find himself returning to Bandal. That would be foolish since he would still be unable to stay, and also very unkind.

  “I should be mortally ashamed of myself,” he murmured.

  “Why?”

  “Ye have saved my life and ye have given me a sort of pleasure I have ne’er tasted before, yet I turn my back on you.”

  “I couldnae leave ye to die or be taken up by the Sluagh and I chose to come to your bed. The pleasure was also shared. Mayhaps I should be ashamed.”

  He fell back onto the bed and pulled her on top of him. “Then let us wallow in our shame together.”

  She smiled, clinging to him as he squirmed around until they were in a better position on the bed. “ ’Tis always best to share such things.”

  Isbel cried out in amused surprise as he hastily removed his braies and her nightgown. When their flesh met, she shuddered. Their passion was so strong and so well matched. She could not understand how he could not see that, could not see as clearly as she did that they were meant to be together.