Moirra pondered going with them, but Mariote was not feeling well, and she did not want to leave her alone. If she sent John alone, he would have to make several trips. Whilst she felt quite confident that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, it didn’t seem fair that he should have to gather all the wood alone and make several trips in order to replenish their supplies.
“Verra well,” she finally said. “But please, be careful.”
Alysander stood and offered her a warm smile. “I’ll no’ let anything happen to them, Moirra. Ye have me word.”
Without a doubt, she knew he meant what he said.
Alysander and the three youngest girls set off for the woods. Muriale and Orabilis walked ahead and chattered on about one thing or another, while Esa remained just as quiet as she usually was. He had discovered that she was a thoughtful child who rarely said anything without thinking on it first. Quite the opposite of her mother and sisters.
They had not gotten far when Alysander heard horses approaching. Instinctively, he reached for his broadsword and called Orabilis and Muriale to come stand behind he and Esa, off to the side of the road.
Moments later, four riders appeared. Alysander instantly recognized the man leading the charge as Thomas McGregor. Alysander neither liked nor trusted the arrogant man. Though he seriously doubted Thomas would intentionally try to harm Moirra’s daughters, he wasn’t about to take any chances.
“Girls,” Alysander whispered. “Be prepared to run if I tell ye to.”
“Why?” Orabilis asked, looking quite confused. “’Tis only Thomas and his brothers.”
Muriale and Esa agreed with nods of their heads. “Thomas isna so nice,” Muriale said. “His brothers are much kinder.”
There was no time for him to explain before the men came to a stop in front of them. There was a strong resemblance between the four men. All had the same light coloring; all were broad shouldered; and all appeared to be tall. Whether their personalities were as similar as their looks, Alysander could not yet be certain.
His question was answered when Thomas glared down at him whilst his three brothers all smiled fondly at the girls.
“What can I help ye with this day?” Alysander asked, directing his question to Thomas.
“I’ve come to give ye all warnin’,” Thomas said from atop his mount. “There be wolves about. They attacked last night. We lost five sheep to them.”
Alysander immediately recalled the conversation he had had with Orabilis and Mariote a few weeks ago. Wulver.
“Are ye certain ’twas wolves?” Muriale asked.
Thomas cast her a heated look that said he thought her question foolish. One of his brothers answered Muriale’s question politely. “Aye, we are young Muriale. We found tracks. They appear to head toward your lands.”
“We followed the tracks to the stream and out again and into the woods behind us,” another of the brothers said. “We thought mayhap we should warn ye.”
“I thank ye fer that,” Alysander said, giving the man a nod.
“I be James McGregor,” he said. “That be our brother William.” He gave a nod to the man to his right. “And behind me is our brother Phillip.”
Alysander gave a nod to each man as he was introduced.
“And I believe ye’ve already met Thomas,” James said. His smile held a hint of mischievousness to it, as if he knew something that Alysander didn’t.
“’Tis a pleasure to meet ye all. And we thank ye fer the warnin’. I’ll be sure to let me wife know.” Alysander directed his statement to Thomas.
Thomas huffed and shook his head. “I’d recommend ye stay out of the woods fer a time, John. We’ll be huntin’ the wolves and I would hate to mistake ye fer one.” He did not bother to wait for a reply. Yanking the reins of his horse, he sped away, leaving his brothers behind.
James shook his head as if he were ashamed of his brother’s behavior. “Pay him no heed, John, fer he’s a fool if ever there was one.”
“Aye,” Phillip said. “He’s just jealous that you have Moirra.”
Alysander eyed the young man speculatively. “And he wants her.”
“Aye, he does.” James told him.
Alysander ground his jaw together. Moirra had said Thomas wanted her land more than he wanted her. Did Thomas’ brothers know something that Moirra didn’t? ’Twas quite possible. He knew there were secrets he and his own brothers had shared that not another living soul was aware of.
William finally spoke up. “I think this is a conversation that should be had over pints instead of little ears.” He nodded toward the three girls.
Apparently, his brothers agreed. “We’ll keep ye informed about the wolves, John.” James said as he began to pull away.
“I’ll do the same. If we see anythin’ we’ll be sure to let ye know.”
“Hurry up now, and gather yer wood,” Phillip said. “We are heading home to eat before we set out again. But who knows what Thomas is liable to do.”
Alysander watched as the three riders left. Phillip’s word of warning hung in the air along with the dust the horses had kicked up.
“I think we best hurry,” Muriale said as she tugged on Alysander’s arm.
“Are ye worried over Thomas?” Alysander asked.
Muriale giggled slightly. “Nay. I be more worried over wolves than Thomas McGregor.”
I fear Thomas McGregor more than the wolves, Alysander thought. He decided he didn’t want to tempt fate or the temperaments of either.
As the days went by, Alysander began to feel very much a tormented man.
During the daylight hours, he was John to Moirra and her daughters. With each slow day that passed, he grew to hate the name. The more he heard it, the more it made his skin itch and his stomach tighten. There were moments when it was all he could do not to shout at the top of his lungs I be Alysander McCullum!
But at night, after the children were safely tucked into their beds, he was Alysander. Her Alysander.
Together, he and Moirra found much pleasure in each other bodies. Delightful, nearly sinful pleasure. But nothing, no amount of loving, no amount of touching, no bone-melting climax that he found in her arms, could equal the pleasure he took each time she said his name. Alysander.
In the beginning, he had thought it made perfectly good sense to not disclose the fullness of their relationship with her daughters. He’d be gone after harvest time, never to see any of them again. Moirra worried that his leaving would break her daughters’ hearts if they were to grow too close to him. If he remained John Pilori, the strange man who was here only to help with the farm and animals, the break would be less severe.
Now? Now he was awash in uncertainty.
Fear soon became his constant companion. He was fearful that if Moirra learned who he truly was — aside from his real name — that she would no longer hold him in any kind regard. The last thing he wanted was for her to look at him with shame and regret. If she learned that he was the reason his brother was dead he seriously doubted she would still look upon him fondly.
’Twas a constant back and forth with his guilt and fear. One moment, he wanted to purge himself, share with her every deep dark secret that he had, to tell her that he had once been nothing more than a drunkard who had let down his entire family and clan. Were it not for him, his brother would still be alive and his father … Nay … how his father felt about him would never change.
Mayhap his father was right; he was nothing but a coward.
But he had changed, hadn’t he? He’d not been drunk in months. He had acted as father and protector to four young girls and husband to beautiful Moirra. Didn’t those things alone prove that he was worthy? Were those things enough to wash away his past sins and transgressions? Would he ever be able to make up for all he’d done wrong his whole life up to this point? ’Twas doubtful.
Nay, he could not share with her either his past or what he was beginning to suspect was in his heart.
’Twas not
supposed to have happened like this, Moirra thought to herself. Ye were no’ supposed to grow fond of the man!
’Twas bread baking day and Moirra stood in her kitchen kneading dough, her mind not completely focused on the task at hand. Her mind was on Alysander, as it was so often these past weeks.
As much as she hated to admit it, she was growing fonder of Alysander McCullum with each day that passed. When she had made the decision to pay the bailie that day, she was certain she would be fully capable of saying goodbye after the harvest. Now? Now her heart ached at the thought of him leaving.
He was fulfilling all the promises he made to her the day they spoke the handfast vows and she wasn’t certain if she was angry or glad. There were moments when she wished he behaved more the rake and ne’er-do-well he had said he was the day she met him, instead of the kind, honorable man she knew him to be. ‘Twould be so much easier to say goodbye to the man if he were an ass.
But he was not. Generous, kind, honorable, and even-tempered. It did not help matters any that his loving skills were beyond anything she could ever have imagined. Tender he was, whilst being passionate. Each night they spent together, his foremost goal was to make certain that Moirra found her own pleasure before he found his. ’Twas an entirely new experience for her and ’twas one she did not want to give up.
’Twas more than just their loving that she knew she’d miss. She’d miss his laugh, his smile, the way he played the lute. She would miss the way he made all of them feel at ease and safe in his presence. She would miss everything about him.
Oh, why could he not be an ass? Why could he not have some disgusting trait that she could not abide? Something, anything that she could dislike about him so that when it came time for him to leave, she would be glad for it?
Thinking about the day he would leave made her chest squeeze against her heart. Tears welled, and no matter how valiantly she tried to fight them back, they fell.
She had pretended that she was more worried over how her daughters would feel and react when Alysander left. The girls would miss him, that she knew. They’d grown accustomed to him and felt safe having him here. Mariote had not had a nightmare in weeks and had softened to the man.
But for Moirra, there would be a deep, gaping hole in her chest where her heart once resided.
Thirteen
The barley was beginning to turn from bright green to beautiful shades of gold. Though it was a magnificent sight, watching the crops sway in the breeze whilst the sun beamed across the fields, was bittersweet. In just a few days they would begin the harvest which would signify that Alysander’s time here was at an end. He and Moirra stood side by side in the yard, looking out at the acres of barley. She was explaining the harvesting procedure to him.
“Ye and I will cut the barley,” Moirra explained. “Then Mariote and the girls will put it into bundles and tie them.
Alysander was only half listening, his thoughts turning to the following week, the time after the barley was harvested. Their handfast would end and he would leave. Each time he thought about that day in the future when he would be forced to say goodbye to Moirra and their — nay her — daughters, his chest would feel tight and his lungs constricted. Mariote and Muriale were taking turns churning butter, whilst Esa and Orabilis were off just beyond the barn picking wild flowers. Of a sudden, his stomach felt heavy.
“Alysander?” Moirra’s voice cut through his woolgathering. “Did ye hear me?”
Alysander shook the thoughts from his head. “Nay, I fear I did no’ hear ye. Me mind was elsewhere.”
A line of consternation creased her brow. “I asked if ye could sharpen the scythes.”
“Aye,” he told her in a low voice.
The sun bounced off her golden braid, her eyes, though filled with a measure of concern, sparkled as bright as any jewel. It took a good deal of self-control not to pull her into his arms, kiss her soundly before professing his desire to never leave her, the girls, or this place. He’d found a home here, his first true home since his mother’s death nearly twenty years ago.
Tenderly, Moirra touched his forearm, her eyes searching his. “Is aught amiss?”
Too much a coward to answer honestly, he shook his head and lied. “Nay, I be just a bit tired this day.”
The look she gave him said she did not believe him, but mercifully, she did not push the matter. “Will ye take me to the woods after the noonin’ meal? There are roots and herbs I need to gather.”
“Aye,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck.
The girls had better hearing that Alysander had previously given them credit for. “May I go too?” Mariote asked hopefully and with a smile. A heartbeat later, her sisters were begging to join.
Typically, Alysander would tell the girls to ask their mother first. Moirra had the first and last say in nearly every matter when it came to her daughters. “Aye,” he said, “ye can join us.”
Moirra blinked up at him, a most curious expression written on her face. She stared up at him as if she could not quite think what to say next.
“We’ll go after ye finish with the butter,” Alysander said, offering a smile that did not quite make it to his eyes.
For days now, Alysander had been behaving strangely and Moirra didn’t know what to make of it. During the day, he seemed far too quiet and distant, but at night? He made love to her as if ’twere his last day on God’s earth; passionately and with much fervor and zeal. Moirra would make no complaint in that area of their life, for she found she rather liked the passionate and somewhat ferocious attitude he took toward their loving. It oft left her feeling completely sated, if not exhausted.
Mayhap he was merely stocking up on their loving much as a man would stock his larder for the winter. She didn’t rightly know and had not enough courage to ask. Silently, she walked beside Alysander toward the woods, and wondered if she weren’t reading more into things than were truly there. With the children around, now was not the time to broach the subject. Mayhap after the girls were abed she could broach the subject. Hopefully she would have worked up the courage to ask by then.
“Do ye wish me to find the horehound and yarrow?” Mariote asked as she walked beside Moirra.
Moirra gave her daughter a warm smile. Mariote had seemed to blossom over the past weeks. She’d gone from a frightened and angry young girl to a happy young woman. That she was finally taking an interest in herbs and healing made Moirra quite proud. “Aye,” she answered. “If how ill Orabilis was last winter is any indication of the winter to come, we’ll need much more of both.”
Orabilis had become so ill the past winter, with a horrible cough and fever, that there were many moments Moirra believed her daughter would not survive. For days, the child had been delirious with the fever and the cough so intense it was oft difficult for her to breathe. Had it not been for Thomas McGregor’s sister, Deirdre, and her fine healing skills, the child would probably not have lived.
They had not gotten far away from their cottage when Mariote exclaimed, “I fergot the basket!”
Their forward procession came to an abrupt halt and all eyes turned to her.
“I’ll run and get it for you,” Muriale volunteered. “We’ve not gone far, ’twill only take a few moments.”
“I wager I can run faster than ye,” Orabilis challenged.
Muriale rolled her eyes at her younger sister and looked to her mother. “Will she ever stop challenging everyone?”
Alysander let loose with a hearty laugh as he patted Muriale on the shoulders. “’Tis doubtful, Muriale. But mayhap if she loses a challenge or two along the way, she might no’ be as inclined to make them.”
It did not take long for understanding to set in. Muriale smiled mischievously and gave Alysander a knowing wink. She gave a quick tap to Orabilis’ shoulder. “Loser has to clean the chamber pots fer a fortnight!” she called out as she took off at a full run.
Orabilis made no attempt to argue over Muriale’s head start. Instead, she wa
s soon fast on her heels, squealing with delight as she raced after her sister.
Moirra giggled as she watched her children racing away, their laughter filling the quiet afternoon air. When they were out of sight, she turned to look at Alysander. A bright smile was alight in his face, and this time, it did reach his eyes. Something in that smile of his tugged at her heart and stole her breath away.
He was looking at her children as if they were his own, as if it were his blood that ran through their veins. He looked proud as well as happy.
’Twas in that tiny moment of time that she knew without equivocation, that she loved him. The kind of love that her mother and father had so often spoke of. The kind of love that made a person feel giddy with anticipation and warm all at once.
’Twas in that small moment of time that Moirra realized she had fallen in love. The realization was so strong, so profound, that the slightest wind could have knocked her to her knees. A heartbeat later, sheer and absolute fear collided with those warm, giddy feelings. What if he did not, could not, or would not feel the same for Moirra? Worse yet, what if he did? What if Alysander loved her as much as she now realized she loved him?
Her thoughts of all the “what ifs” were suddenly interrupted by the sounds of her daughters’ screams.
Muriale and Orabilis hadn’t seen the wolves until they were crossing the threshold into the cottage. Out of breath, but ready to argue over who had reached the door first and who would have to scrub chamber pots, their smiles evaporated instantly when they heard the sounds coming from behind them. Muriale was frozen with fear, her trembling fingers resting on the door latch. Orabilis, either because of her young age and inexperience, turned around slowly.
Not more than ten steps away stood three wolves —hair bristling and teeth bared — emitting low, terrifying growls.
Muriale swallowed hard, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder. “Orabilis,” she whispered fearfully. “Do no’ scream. I’m goin’ to open the door slowly. As soon as I say, ye run inside and up to the loft. I’ll shut the door behind us.”
Moirra's Heart Series: The Complete Collection ( Moirra's Heart Series: The Complete Collection (The Moirra's Heart Series Book 3)) Page 10