He forced himself to hold fast to the pose of being nearly unconscious as she slipped her arm beneath his shoulders and poured cool, sweet cider down his throat. It was not all that difficult for he did feel dazed. She looked pale, and was trembling faintly. Liam watched her stumble over to the small table by the fire. His eyes widened as she gulped down cider and slathered honey over pieces of bread, shoving them into her mouth so fast her cheeks bulged slightly. He suddenly felt a craving for the food she was devouring so rapidly.
“Do ye think I might have some of that?” he asked.
Keira was so startled she nearly choked on the honey-drenched bread she was eating like a starved piglet. Then she felt the heat of a fierce blush burn her cheeks. She was standing before a beautiful man she desired with her mouth so full of food she could barely chew it and honey dripping off her chin. It was impossible to act as if nothing was unusual about her gluttony, but she decided to try anyway. Wiping the honey from her chin with a rag, she quickly spread some honey on a few pieces of bread, set them on a wooden plate, and took it to him. It was not until she handed it to him that she realized he could not have been unconscious while she had worked to ease his pain, that there was a good chance he knew what she had done. Although she saw no fear or condemnation in his eyes, she waited tensely for him to say something. She stood torn between the hope that he knew what she had done and accepted it and the hope that he had not noticed anything strange at all.
“Why are ye limping?” Liam asked as he savored the taste of the rich, honey-sweetened bread.
Inwardly cursing, Keira tried to think of a reasonable explanation for her sudden limp. When she eased a person’s pain, it often flowed into her, and she had not yet fully mastered a way to remove it. That was not something she could tell him, however. She still clung to the small hope that he did not really know what she had done.
“Just a wee bruising from being roughly tossed to the ground by Brother Paul,” she replied, pleased with her response until she saw the glint of amusement in his fine eyes.
“Ah, foolish me. I had wondered if in taking the pain from my leg, it had somehow entered yours. ’Tis odd that ’tis the right leg, too. Just like mine.”
“One only has two legs. Nay much choice as to which gets injured.” He knew, Keira thought, and wondered why she was still trying to deny her gift, especially since her evasions seemed to be amusing him so much.
“True.” Liam finished the last of the bread, then idly licked the sticky honey from his fingers before asking, “Why cannae ye just take that pain away as ye did mine?” He had to bite back a laugh when she planted her small fists upon her gently rounded hips and glared at him.
Liam’s amusement abruptly faded when he saw that behind her anger lurked fear and cursed himself for an idiot. Of course she would be afraid. Although her cousin had spoken of her vision, he had also stressed that the Murrays were cautious in the revealing of the gifts their clan was so heavily blessed with. There was danger in possessing such skills. Too many saw them as sorcery or the devil’s work. The very last thing he wanted was for Keira to be afraid of him.
“Poor wee Keira,” he murmured, “ye need not fret that I will be making the sign to ward off evil. Aye, when I kenned what ye were doing, I felt a wee tickle of superstitious fear, but I killed it. My cousin’s wife kens your clan weel and has made it her duty to banish such nonsense from our heads and hearts.”
Keira felt herself relax. “Who is your cousin’s wife?”
“Fiona, once a MacEnroy. Connor MacEnroy’s sister. He is wed to a cousin of yours, I believe.”
“Aye, to our Gilly. I have met Fiona. She has a true skill at healing.”
“Aye, that she does. So, do ye take in the pain?”
Sitting down on the bed, for she suddenly felt very tired, Keira nodded. “It has to go somewhere, doesnae it? I havenae yet mastered a way to rid myself of it. It doesnae last so verra long. Sometimes if I can, I think of standing in the rain or beneath a gentle waterfall, letting the cool water wash it all away.”
She closed her eyes and struggled to fill her mind with the vision of herself standing naked beneath a gentle fall of water. Breathing slowly, she let the sensation of being cleansed fill her mind and body. Little by little, she felt the ache in her leg ease. Right behind that relief came a feeling of utter exhaustion.
“So, ye truly had a vision of me?” Liam asked, a little astonished at how the pinched look of pain slowly faded from her face.
“Aye,” Keira replied, too tired to even open her eyes to look at him. “I just wish it had warned me of the attack upon you. We may have been able to stop it.”
“Ye saved me from dying. ’Tis enough. Do ye often have visions?” When she did not reply, he looked more closely at her and realized she had gone to sleep sitting up. “Och, poor wee lass.”
Cautiously, not wishing to make the bed move too much, Liam sat up. He gently grasped Keira by her shoulders to help settle her more comfortably upon the bed. She nearly fell into his arms, her body so limp and boneless he would think her dead except that he could see that she was still breathing. When he leaned back against the pillows, tucking her up against his side, she murmured something that sounded very much like a very courteous thank you. He then nearly groaned aloud when she wrapped her arm about him and nestled even closer, her soft cheek pressed against his shoulder. Every lustful urge he had sprang to attention, as did one certain mindless, impertinent part of his body.
Keira Murray MacKail was soft and warm, and she smelled nice. Lavender and, he grinned, a touch of honey. He was failing so miserably in remaining only distantly courteous to her, he wondered why he did not just give up. The idea appealed to him, as she did. Too much so. He now believed God had sent her a vision, one allowing her and Brother Matthew to save his miserable life. He could trust her. That did not, however, change any of the other reasons why he had felt it best to keep some distance from her. She was far above the reach of a cousin of a minor laird who was, in many ways, not much more than a common man at arms. He simply could not believe the Murrays’ habit of allowing their women some choice in the matter of gaining a husband extended to one such as him.
“Keira!” Brother Matthew called as he hurried into the cottage.
Liam silenced the man with one sharp move of his hand. As Brother Matthew approached the bed, Liam noticed how the look of concern upon the man’s face began to change into an expression of dark suspicion, and he sighed. It stung a little that his old friend would think him capable of seducing a woman who cared for him so well, but Liam suspected even the cloistered monks may have heard a few tales about him.
“She fell asleep sitting on the edge of the bed,” Liam explained and fixed the frowning monk with a cool, unwavering stare, “after she had eased the pain in my leg.”
“Putting salve upon your leg shouldnae weary her so.”
So, they were more secretive about her healing hands than her visions, Liam mused. “Nay, no salve. Her hands.” It was probably for the best that this particular Murray kinsman was a cloistered monk, Liam decided, for Brother Matthew’s face was far too easy to read. “Come, old friend, we may nay have seen much of each other these last few years, but do ye truly think I could condemn the lass for her gift or nay have the sense to ken that it must be kept a very closely guarded secret?”
Brother Matthew sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Nay, of course ye wouldnae.”
“Nor would I seduce a weelborn lass such as she, a new widow, and one who nay doubt sits higher above the salt than I e’er will.” Liam smothered a pinch of guilt, for it was not a complete lie. He had every intention of trying to hold fast to that gallant attitude, but he was beginning to think that fate was working against him.
“Forgive me for the insult.” Brother Matthew shook his head.
“None taken. I will confess that I havenae been verra saintly since I left here.” Liam shared a brief grin with his old friend. “Nay, I mean her no harm. I bu
t forgot to take care of my broken leg. When I saw that fool pinning her to the ground, I was so enraged I acted as if I had two good legs.”
“He will be harshly chastised, though mayhap not as harshly as we might like. Did he hurt her?”
“Nay, though he handled her roughly enough to leave bruises. He was struggling to toss up her skirts when I saw them and rushed to play the hero. After I tossed him aside and the anger began to fade, the pain was excruciating. She did whate’er it is she does with those wee hands, ate like a piglet, then fell asleep in the midst of a conversation. She took the pain into herself,” he murmured with a lingering wonder.
“Aye, ’tis how it often works. It takes her a while to cast it aside, and then she sleeps hard for a few hours. We are cautious about her visions, but such things are acceptable to many people. Healing hands, the ability to ease pain with a touch?” Brother Matthew shrugged. “That too often stirs dangerous fears and whispers of sorcery. I think her husband kenned about her gift, though she hasnae said so. I believe it is one reason he sought to wed her.”
“He was unweel?”
“Och, he looked hale enough, but he was a troubled mon. She was told so by those of our clan who can sense such things, but she married him anyway. Keira can be stubborn. I ken I may worry o’er her too much. She is one of my favorite cousins, and these last few months have been verra trying for her. Aye, and she faces more trials in the months ahead. She is strong, but mayhap, too tenderhearted and nay verra worldly.”
“Did she love her husband weel then?”
“I think she would have if they had been given more time, or at least, cared for him weel and been a good wife to him. She chose him because she was o’er twenty and had ne’er been much moved by any mon. She craved a family of her own, ye ken. Sadly, they were wed but three months, and he left behind no child.”
“How did he die?”
“Murdered by Rauf Moubray, who also did her some harm. She managed to escape, but swore to her husband ere he died that she would help the people of Ardgleann, would wrest the land from Rauf’s thieving hands.”
“The mon set a heavy burden upon her wee shoulders by making her promise such a thing. How could he expect this fey lass to do that? I have heard of Rauf Moubray—dark tales of brutality.”
“And probably all true. As for how she can fulfill her vow to her poor, ill-fated husband? I dinnae ken, and neither does she, especially as she is loathe to drag her family into this trouble.” Brother Matthew lightly touched Keira’s thick hair. “At such times, I can almost regret my calling for I am nay a warrior, I have few fighting skills to lend her, and yet I would like to be her champion.”
“Then I will be,” said Liam and tried not to be insulted by Brother Matthew’s obvious look of surprise.
“Ye have a broken leg, Liam.”
“’Twill heal. She willnae be rushing off to save Ardgleann on the morrow, will she?”
“Weel, nay, but—”
“I owe the lass my life. The least I can do is try my best to make sure she doesnae get herself killed trying to fulfill the vow her husband pulled from her.” He winked at Brother Matthew. “Aye, and I rather like the idea of being a champion. Mayhap, in years to come, someone will compose a song about me.” He chuckled along with his friend.
“’Twill make me rest more easily kenning that a strong mon stands by her in the battle ahead.”
“Then ’tis settled.”
“Aye, between us. Ye may find that wee lass isnae so quick to agree. As I said, she can be stubborn.”
“So can I, my friend. So can I.”
CHAPTER 4
An odd scraping and thumping noise came from just beyond the cottage door. Liam looked across the table at Keira and smiled. She was concentrating very hard on the chessboard set between them, plotting a move that would probably defeat him yet again. He wanted to drag her across the table and kiss those lips she was gently worrying with her teeth. What few scraps of resistance he still clung to after a month of being with her day and night were rapidly shredding. His growing feelings for her refused to be cowed.
“I believe Kester has just stumbled by for a visit,” he said, grinning when she gave him a stern frown, for the silent scold was belied by the laughter in her beautiful eyes.
Keira stood up, moved one of the finely carved chessmen, and said, “Checkmate.”
As she walked to the door, she grinned when she heard Liam softly curse. He had not beaten her yet, but he was good enough to present a real challenge. She doubted he would be pleased if she told him so. It might also sound very vain, she thought as she opened the door to find Kester brushing the dirt from his robes.
Kester smiled at her, and she smiled back. He was going to be a big, handsome man when he finally grew into those feet he kept tripping over. She also had the strongest feeling that Kester did not really want to become a monk, that he would do his best but would never be really happy. That bothered her, but as yet, she had no ideas of what, if anything, she could do about it. If nothing else, she had far too many concerns of her own to deal with, troubles that left her with neither the wit nor the strength to deal with someone else’s.
“M’lady, someone has come looking for Sir Liam,” Kester said, his dark blue eyes wide with curiosity.
“Who?” demanded Liam as he moved to stand behind Keira.
“A woman named Maude, Lady Maude Kinnaird.”
Liam cursed softly, his anger enhanced by the way Keira tensed. “Has anyone told her I am here?”
“Not as yet, but I fear someone will soon. Is she your enemy?”
“Nay, she is but a nuisance. I believe her husband is, however.”
“Her husband?” Keira turned to face Liam. “She is wed, yet she chases ye about the country?”
Liam found it a little daunting to be stared at by Keira and Kester, both looking shocked. It was also irritating to see the glint of censure in their eyes. He did not have the time to explain matters, however, nor did he feel particularly inclined to. He briefly savored a few very dark thoughts about Lady Maude Kinnaird, who seemed unable to understand the word nay, then the sound of approaching horses drew his gaze beyond Keira.
“Someone told her, curse their eyes!” He yanked Kester inside, nudged Keira out of the way, and slammed the door shut. “Bar it,” he ordered and limped over to retrieve his sword from where it had been set upon a heavy chest at the foot of the bed.
Keira turned from barring the door and gaped when she saw Liam donning his sword and scabbard. “’Tis just a woman! Do ye often greet your cast aside lovers with a sword?”
“She isnae my lover,” Liam snapped.
“Ah, weel, sir, at the monastery she said—” began Kester.
“I dinnae care what the woman said. I begin to think she is mad.”
“Liam, m’love!” called a woman from just outside the door. “I ken ye are in there!”
For a brief moment, Keira saw a very beautiful face peering in the small window by the door. Then Liam slammed the thick shutters closed on both the cottage windows. Kester hurriedly lit a candle on the table to ease the sudden darkness. Keira winced as the pounding started on the door, loud and a little frantic.
“Liam, my sweet prince, please speak to me! How can ye treat me so unkindly after all we have meant to each other?”
“We havenae meant a cursed thing to each other,” Liam replied. “Not now. Not ever.”
Compared to the woman’s strident voice, Liam’s tone seemed almost pleasant, but Keira could hear the hard, cold bite of anger. She rubbed her forehead as a sharp pain started between her eyes. She wanted to blame the woman’s pounding on the door for the rapidly blooming ache in her head, but she knew it was born of far more complicated things.
“I have left my husband for ye, sweet Liam!”
“Curse it, woman, I ne’er asked ye to do that!”
“’Tis the only way we can be together. I have money. We can flee to France!”
This, Keira
decided, was a sign that it was far past time for her to leave the shelter of the monastery. She had let this man slip into her heart. Keeping a distance had not shielded her at all. Listening to this woman speak so fulsomely of her love for Liam and hearing his cold, angry replies made Keira wonder if she had actually been drawn to a man who did not really exist except in her imaginings. This was certainly not the smiling, teasing man she had come to know, nor the gallant knight who had ignored his pain to save her from Brother Paul. She was ashamed that she had allowed herself to forget the needs of the people of Ardgleann, to convince herself constantly that Sir Liam still needed her care just so that she could remain close to him. It was obvious he could choose from a vast array of women to care for him and shelter him. Keira grabbed her saddle packs and began to pack her things.
“Jesu, Maude, will ye just go away?” Liam lightly pounded his head against the wall and wondered if the madness that seemed to have taken possession of Maude was now afflicting him.
“Ye have a woman in there, dinnae ye? How can ye turn from all we shared with such ease? How can ye break my poor heart so? But I shall forgive ye, my dearest love. I wasnae here to comfort ye after ye were hurt, so I ken I bear some of the blame for your fall from grace.”
“Ye daft woman, I fell from grace years ago. Fell so hard and fast I am surprised the ground didnae shake.” Liam heard some men laugh and realized Maude had a few of her personal guard with her. Then he grasped the full import of her words. “How did ye ken I had been hurt, Maude?” he demanded, and abruptly, Maude was silent. “Maude, how did ye ken I was hurt?”
Highland Champion Page 4