“Do ye need help in the garden today, Cousin?” Keira asked as she took the pot of broth off the fire and set her pot of mutton stew in its place.
“I think ye must needs stay here, dinnae ye?” Brother Matthew sat at the small table set near the fire. “If it willnae be too much trouble, I did bring some clothes that need mending.”
“Nay, ’tis no trouble,” she assured him as she sat down across the table from him. “’Twill give me something to do whilst he sleeps. Aside from a wee bit of cleaning, tending my mutton stew, and having a bath, there isnae much else for me to do.”
“Have ye finished all that needlework ye were doing? Ye were making some gifts, aye?”
“Aye. I finished the shift for Mama. I must needs decide what to put on the one for Grandmere. And there are months left in which to finish those. S’truth, if I hadnae bought all the linen and thread from Lady Morrison, I wouldnae be making gifts now anyway. And all of that lovely lace,” Keira murmured and shook her head. “I felt most guilty o’er how little I paid for it all.”
“She needed the coin, and ye didnae cheat her. Many would have once they kenned how desperate she was. She was most thankful for what ye gave her.” He glanced at the pot upon the fire. “Mutton stew, did ye say?”
Keira laughed. “Aye. Plan to sup with me now, do ye?”
“Aye. When ’tis a choice of what is fed to us at the monastery and your mutton stew, I fear my will to resist temptation is verra weak. Mayhap a game of chess, too?”
“Do ye think losing to me will be penance enough for enjoying my stew?”
“Such arrogance.” Brother Matthew tsked and shook his head. “I could win.”
“Aye, ye might,” she murmured, and they both grinned.
“Weel, I had best return to the monastery,” he said as he stood up. “Do ye need me to come back here, say, at about midday?”
“To tend to him?” she asked as she followed him to the door, and he nodded in reply. “Nay, I can manage him. I did before.”
Brother Matthew frowned and hesitated just outside the door. “’Tisnae right.”
“I am a healer, Cousin. He is a battered mon who still has one leg tied down on the bed. And I tended him myself ere he woke. Go, tend to your work. I will be fine. Why, I shall probably e’en find time to make some honey-sweetened oatcakes.”
“Wicked lass to toss such temptation before a mon of the cloth,” he said, shaking his head again as he turned away.
Keira laughed then, and leaving the door open so she could hear if Liam should call out, she began the tedious chore of drawing the water for her bath from the well. It was undoubtedly improper to even think of bathing with a man sharing the tiny cottage with her, but she felt a strong need to bathe. A blanket or two hung up around the tub should provide her with enough privacy. Thinking of Brother Paul, she decided she would also bar the door.
Liam blinked and bit back a groan as full awareness of his various injuries returned upon waking. He could not recall falling asleep. One moment, he was listening to Keira and Brother Matthew talk, and the next he was rousing from a deep sleep. He suspected whatever she put into the cider or even the broth not only eased his pain but also nudged him into sleep, whether he willed it or not.
Glancing around the dimly lit cottage, he wondered how long he had slept. Keira sat near a tiny window at the rear of the cottage, sewing what appeared to be a woman’s shift. A quick glance at the neatly folded monks’ robes set on a stool by the door told Liam that he had slept long enough for her to finish that chore.
He studied her as she sat so quietly plying her needle and tried to recall all he had overheard before falling asleep. She and Brother Matthew had sounded just like the cousins they claimed to be, speaking of people they both knew and teasing each other. Liam felt a pinch of guilt over his wariness. The woman had obviously been caring for him for days. If she meant him harm, she had clearly had ample opportunity to inflict it. No one would have questioned it if he had not survived his injuries. After all she had done for him, he would not be foolish to trust her.
There was, however, at least one thing that made him hesitate to trust in her. Why was she living here in a tiny cottage on the grounds of a monastery? From what little had been said, Liam got the feeling she had been living here for a while. Even though her cousin was here, it was an odd place for a woman to take refuge. Why did she not return to her family? Everything he had ever heard about that clan told him the Murrays were closely bonded and deeply loyal to each other. He doubted there was much they would not forgive or help her with.
Brother Matthew seemed to have no qualms about her or her tale, but Liam was well aware of the man’s sweet nature and naïveté. The man could also be blinded by the fact that this pretty little woman was blood kin to him. Liam knew he would find it difficult to remain wary, especially when he looked into those big green eyes. Or glanced at that tempting mouth. Or heard that seductive voice. Liam inwardly cursed. It was going to be very difficult indeed.
He shifted his body in a vain attempt to get more comfortable and realized his broken leg was propped up on several cushions and still secured to the bed. A moment later, he also realized that his movement had drawn Keira’s attention. He watched as she set aside her sewing and moved toward him. That was something else he had better not do too often if he wished to remain sharp of mind and cautious, he thought ruefully, for she had an almost sultry grace to her walk.
“I think ye are a fast healer, Sir Liam,” Keira said as she looked him over.
“I dinnae feel much healed,” he said as he studied his broken leg.
“Nay, I suspect all those aches and pains ye suffer now hide the truth from ye, but I can see it in the color of that bruising and in the amount of the swelling. Both have eased more swiftly than in other people I have tended, and that is good. E’en your leg isnae as troubled by swelling as others I have tended.”
“Why is it still tied to the bed then? And why have ye set it up on those cushions?”
“’Tis tied so that ye dinnae move it too much as ye rest. Not only could the pain that would cause disturb the rest ye need, but ye could also easily destroy what healing has begun. ’Tis raised like this to ease the swelling, but I think that willnae be so verra necessary soon. Oh, ye will still have to rest it a lot and raise it like this from time to time for several weeks yet but unless ye do something verra foolish, I think ye will soon be using that leg again. ’Twill be weak at the start, but nay more than that.”
Liam muttered a curse, then muttered an apology for his language, then sighed. “How many weeks?”
“Six or more until we can remove the slats and the wrappings. I cannae say how long after that until ye can use it with the same ease and grace ye did before. That is up to ye, but I think it willnae be that long for ye are young, strong, and healthy. Ye willnae be left with a limp if ye take care,” she added, softly reminding him of his good fortune.
“I ken it. I am verra fortunate indeed. ’Tis still an irritation.” He met her smile with a faint one of his own as she helped him sit up against the pillows she hastily set behind his back. “I think there are some monks who must be resting their heads on a verra flat bed.” She chuckled, and the low, husky sound stirred a dangerous warmth inside him.
“Some do anyway as they feel such soft pillows are a sinful indulgence, but, aye, there are few spare ones at the monastery just now.”
“I dinnae suppose ’tis time for Brother Matthew to arrive, is it?” Liam asked, aware of a pressing need and reluctant to have this blood-stirring woman assist him in such a personal chore.
“Ah, nay, but one of the lads is here. He brought some hay for your horse. I will fetch him for ye.”
The moment she left, Liam closed his eyes and recited every curse he could think of. It might be wise to cease trying to remain wary and use all his willpower to keep himself from reaching for her. He could not recall any woman who had stirred his lusts as swiftly and fiercely as this one di
d. Worse, she was not even trying to do so. There was not even the smallest hint of flirtation in her manner. She gave him no coy looks, no soft flatteries, and no inviting smiles, but despite the pain he was in, he wanted her as he had never wanted a woman before.
Keira returned with a thin boy who had not yet grown into his feet and hands. She introduced young Kester and then hurried away. Liam watched the youth stare after her and heard him sigh. Obviously, the boy was old enough to suffer an infatuation with a woman. Liam supposed he ought to find some comfort in that for it revealed that he was not the only one bewitched by Keira. However, he thought grimly when the boy finally turned his way, Kester was not gambling with his life.
CHAPTER 3
A fortnight of deception, Keira mused as she finished collecting herbs from the monastery garden and started back toward the cottage. That was how she saw the time she had spent with Sir Liam Cameron. To be completely fair to herself, she supposed she could say it was more like ten days of deception, for Liam had been mostly unconscious, then resting, for four days. It was as his mind had begun to clear and they had actually begun to talk to each other about more than his injuries that the deception had truly begun.
She shook her head over her own foolishness. Deception was necessary. In a way, it was an act of self-preservation. She had to keep herself at a distance from him in any way that she could. It was impossible to leave him as he still needed care, but in all other ways, she had to keep a wall between them. If she revealed any of her confused but intensifying feelings for him and he responded in even the smallest way, she feared she would be lost. The man was proving to be all she could ever want, but he was far above her touch.
There was also Ardgleann and its people to consider. To help them, she had to hold fast to a lie. Duncan had made her swear to it shortly before his death. That was not a vow she could risk breaking. There was not even any room for compromise, a way for her to get what she was craving more each day and yet keep her vow to her murdered husband.
Setting her basket down as she neared the well by the cottage, Keira went to clean herself of the dirt she had accumulated while collecting herbs from the garden. She had felt compelled to work in the garden for a while in payment for the herbs she harvested, and it showed. What little vanity she possessed would not allow her to go into the cottage where Sir Liam rested without at least attempting to look her best.
“Foolish woman,” she muttered to herself as she drew up a bucket of water.
“Aye, that ye are. Ye thought ye could continue to tempt a mon to madness and nay pay the consequences.”
Keira silently cursed as she turned to face Brother Paul. The man looked flushed, a little wild-eyed, and dangerous. She was neatly trapped between him and the well, armed with only the rag she had just dampened to clean herself. This, she thought, could be unpleasant for he did not look as if he was in the mood to listen to reason.
Liam sat on the edge of the bed and scowled at the cottage door. He was restless. Most of his other injuries had healed, but his broken leg kept him trapped. Although he had spent the morning hobbling around on his crutch, hoping to gain some semblance of grace while using it, he was not tired. He was bored. There was nothing to do and no one to talk to, so he sat there wondering when Keira would return. It was a sad end for a man who had never had to wait upon any woman before, he mused, and briefly smiled at the vanity of such thoughts.
Holding himself at a safe distance from Keira was proving as difficult as he had thought it would be, and it was not because she was the only woman around. She fascinated him as much as she aroused him. It was a dangerous combination. The more he watched her, the more beautiful she became. He knew she was holding fast to some secrets, and he wanted to know each and every one.
The fact that she was trying to keep a distance from him as well was not helping him all that much. Instead, it worked to intrigue him. Liam knew she was not doing so intentionally, but that air of mystery around her kept pulling at him, tempting him to step over the boundaries he had set for himself. Even reminding himself that he had little to offer a woman like her did not rein in his growing interest. For one brief moment, when he had learned that she was a widow, he had even considered becoming her lover for a while, but had forced that tempting plan out of his head. Widow she may be, but Keira was a woman one married. Although he had heard that the Murrays allowed their women to choose their husbands, he doubted they would smile upon a poor, landless knight.
Even as he wondered why the thought of marriage kept tripping through his mind, he heard a noise outside. At first, he thought Kester had returned with Keira, following her like some faithful puppy, as was his habit. Then he realized that the voices were raised, for he would not be able to hear them through the door otherwise. He was just wondering if he ought to limp to the door to see who Keira might be arguing with or if he would soon have other company to deal with when he heard a brief, feminine screech.
Cursing softly over how awkward he still was with his new crutch, Liam made his way to the door. He opened the door, stepped outside, and nearly bellowed out the rage that swept over him. A monk had Keira pinned to the ground. Liam caught sight of Kester in the distance, but the boy tripped and fell as he hurried to help Keira. When he saw the monk was struggling to pull up Keira’s skirts, Liam forgot about his injured leg, forgot about his pain, and hurried toward the wrestling couple.
Keira could not believe how quickly Brother Paul had gotten her pinned to the ground. One minute they had been arguing, the next she was beneath him. He smelled strongly of ale and sweat, and was proving to be far stronger than she would have expected him to be.
“Brother Paul, remember who ye are!” she cried as she struggled to keep him from mauling her. “What about your vows?”
“I am a mon first,” he muttered as he tried to pull up her skirts yet not lose his grip on her. “I have prayed for guidance and strength until my knees bled from the kneeling on them, but still ye tempt me. I have set harsh punishments for myself, but still ye haunt my dreams. I have tried so hard—”
Brother Paul was suddenly removed from on top of her, his sentence ending abruptly in a strangled gurgle. Keira stared in wonder as Liam held the man several inches off the ground with one hand. Liam’s beautiful face was hardened by fury while Brother Paul’s was white with fear.
“Ye obviously didnae try hard enough,” Liam said, shaking the man slightly. “Ye are an idiot. And if ye e’er touch the lass again, ye will be a dead idiot.”
Keira was just scrambling to her feet when Liam flung the terrified monk aside. She gaped as Brother Paul landed hard on the ground several feet away and sprawled there, gasping like a fish out of water. As she turned to stare at Liam, Kester stumbled up to them.
“M’lady! Are ye hurt?” asked Kester.
“Nay, just a wee bit bruised,” she replied, smiling at the youth to ease his obvious concern. When she looked at Liam again, she suddenly became aware of the fact that he had rushed to her rescue and manhandled Brother Paul on his broken leg. “Och, Sir Liam, ye should ne’er have rushed out here! I thank ye, but ye could have damaged your leg.”
“’Tis already damaged.” Liam’s anger was fading, and he was becoming acutely aware of the intense pain in his broken leg.
“I meant ye could have ruined whate’er healing there has been.”
“Ah, weel, ye may be right.” He realized he had dropped his crutch as he had reached for the monk and looked around for it. “’Tis verra clear it doesnae like being stood on.”
Keira quickly picked up his crutch and handed it to him, then moved to his other side to give him even more support. The man was suddenly very pale, and there was a faint sheen of sweat upon his face. He had to be in agony, but he made no sound.
“Kester, see that Brother Paul returns to the monastery,” she said to the boy as she began to help Liam back into the cottage.
“Aye, m’lady.” A scowling Kester moved toward the groaning monk. “There will
be a dire penance to pay for this.”
The boy seemed quite pleased about that possibility, Keira thought, then hoped he was right Brother Paul deserved some punishment for trying to force himself upon an unwilling woman and, worse, for convincing himself that it was all her fault. She doubted he would be punished for that latter idiocy, however. There were undoubtedly many at the monastery who would agree with him.
As soon as she had helped Liam onto the bed, Keira began to remove the bindings and wooden slats from his broken leg. The fact that he remained still, his arm flung over his eyes and his breathing a little ragged, told her that he was in a great deal of pain. She prayed he had not undone all of the healing that had begun.
When she found no sign of further injury to his leg, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He had obviously caused himself a great deal of pain, but he had not actually hurt his leg. Keira glanced at him, but he still had his eyes covered. His breathing had eased a little, and she wondered if he had swooned. She knew she could ease his pain, but she was a little reluctant to reveal her skill. Then she scolded herself over her fears. The man had already been told that she had found him because of a vision, and he had not cried her a witch. There was also the chance he would not even realize what she had done. After one last glance at his face, she placed her hands upon his leg and closed her eyes, sensing where the pain was the worst and working to ease it.
Liam felt Keira’s small, soft hands upon his leg and peered at her from beneath his arm. The touch of her hands smoothed away the worst of his pain. There was a growing warmth and a strange, not wholly unpleasant tingling. His eyes widened as he realized she knew exactly what was happening to him, what her touch could do, as she stood there with her eyes closed and an intense look of concentration on her sweet face. A brief twitch of fear rushed through him, a superstitious fear of the miraculous, that he quickly dismissed. Even though he felt a little dizzy when she finally took her hands away, he knew deep in his soul that she could never hurt him, or anyone, that she truly was a healer.
Highland Champion Page 3