The next time Gisela woke, she was in a comfortable bed inside a small but nice bedchamber. Ceilidh and Merida sat in chairs next to a narrow window, speaking in soft tones. She studied the women for a moment and considered how she would have liked to remain there and become part of the closely-knit group.
However, once she was strong enough, Kieran would ensure she returned home. It was for the best, he had a great deal of healing to do, not just physically, but internally as well.
Later that day, the women helped her bathe and then ensured she ate a sturdy meal of porridge with bits of meat. Having eaten, soaked in hot water and had her hair untangled, Gisela felt human again.
“I need to see Kieran. He saved my life.”
The women exchanged an undecipherable look.
Her stomach sank. “Oh, no…is he…”
“He is alive and will recover,” Merida said in a flat tone. Gisela was aware the woman and Kieran did not speak, so she understood the lack of care.
Ceilidh studied her for a long moment. “Perhaps it will be good for ye to see him. He has not spoken a word since returning. I am afraid of his reaction at seeing ye. He has always been such a mystery to us.”
“Let’s wait until ye have had a bit more time to recover yerself,” Merida finally said.
The next day, Gisela rose and went to the mirror. She looked absolutely horrible. There was a frightening combination of purple and yellow bruising on the left side of her face. The left temple was swollen where she’d fallen onto the ground, or perhaps when her captor had hit her with the hilt of his sword. Her bottom lip was split, dried blood encrusted across it.
Her hair had been brushed back and braided, which was good as her right arm ached from being kicked. Her ribs smarted when Gisela took sharp breaths, although the binding helped.
After managing to don a robe, she walked out of the room and headed to Kieran’s chamber, which was just a bit down the narrow corridor.
She pushed the door open slowly and peered into the room. The chamber was dark with long, thick curtains drawn over the windows. The air was stale and smelled of smoke from the fire in the hearth.
There was no one watching over Kieran at the moment, which was understandable as he pushed people away.
Kieran lay on his back, eyes closed, a slight frown marring his face. There were beads of sweat on his upper lip and forehead. Someone should have opened the window and left the door open to allow for air to flow.
“This is ridiculous,” Gisela mumbled. She went to the window and, using only her left hand, pulled the curtains open. The sun brightened the room immediately. She pushed the window open, which took effort as she could only use one arm, but determination won and, instantly, she was greeted with a soft breeze.
Kieran did not stir.
Allowing her gaze to travel down his face to the top of his bare chest, she noted cuts, bruises and bandaging.
“Kieran,” she whispered. “Wake up.”
His eyes fluttered open and the hazel gaze slid to her face. He didn’t speak as his eyes traveled down across her face, hesitating at the injuries.
Gisela sat on the edge of his bed and let out a long sigh. “Ye saved my life.” Her voice broke and she hesitated. “Thank ye.”
Kieran swallowed visibly and closed his eyes. Did he wish her gone? Or was he merely too weak? Gisela touched his arm.
“Once I recover, I will take ye home.” Kieran’s voice was flat.
The words were like daggers, hurting more than the injuries. Gisela let out a breath. It came out sharp like when someone was punched in the stomach.
“I see. Ye do not have to. I can ask to be taken home right away. There is no need to wait.”
What had she expected from Kieran, a request for her to marry him or some sort of declaration that he loved her?
Gisela studied him. He looked…defeated.
“Ye have finally gotten yer revenge. Avenged yer father’s death. I am glad for ye.”
He flinched as if she’d struck him with a hot iron straight from a fire.
Not sure what else to do, she stood and limped back to the door. Just as she reached it, Gisela looked back to the bed one last time. Kieran’s eyes were fixed on her and then he closed them again.
Chapter Twenty-One
Late summer
“I certainly do not understand why ye came back,” her mother exclaimed as Gisela mixed the ingredients for a new batch of soap. “Ye are betrothed to Kieran Ross and he must keep his word and marry ye.”
They were outside in a small courtyard at her mother’s home in the village. Gisela had gone straight there upon returning. The first days had been wonderfully quiet as her mother had been at the keep.
It was exactly what she’d needed to settle her mind and return to life without Kieran.
“He never asked to marry me, Mother,” Gisela repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time. “The first thing he said at seeing me after the rescue, was that he’d bring me home once he recovered.”
Her mother huffed. “Nevertheless, ye should have remained.”
“I was not going to remain at Ross Keep. There was no reason for it.”
“If he was not going to keep his word, he should have sent ye back with enough coin to survive and not have to sell yer wares at the village square like some sort of pauper.” Her mother sniffed and wiped at an imaginary tear.
“He never asked me to marry me, Mother.”
Her mother made a slashing motion with her right hand. “It was implied upon the invitation to go to his keep.”
Kieran hadn’t even been aware she traveled to Dun Airgid. However, there was no use in telling her mother. There was no reasoning with her when she became upset.
“My poor daughter. Who will marry ye now?” Lillian fell back into the chair. “What will come of ye?”
“I assure ye, I will find a man to marry soon. Do not fret. I have several in mind already.”
Brightening, Lillian lifted her cup of cider and sipped. “How grand. I will inform Lady Munro immediately upon yer decision so the laird forces the man in question to marry ye without haste.”
Gisela wanted to roll her eyes, but forced a smile instead. “What about ye? What happened with the traveling merchant?”
“Oh, he was only a distraction from the obvious,” her mother stated and hesitated to give Gisela time to ask.
“What is the obvious, Mother?”
“That I should marry a visiting laird or such or perhaps a guard and live at the keep. I am family after all.”
Gisela pictured the guardsmen and could not think of any that were her mother’s age, and also unmarried. “Of course, Mother.”
The conversations with her mother distracted Gisela from thinking too much about Kieran. She worried about his reaction to Ethan McLeod’s death. Why had he been left so hollow? It was as if his reason for living were snatched away the instant the madman had fallen to his death.
Perhaps it was. What would happen to him now?
“Tomorrow, we shall go to the market and spend time with our friends. I am quite excited.” Her mother’s change in countenance never ceased to amaze her. The woman leaned forward, pinning her with an eager look.
“I have some news,” her mother said with an exaggerated heavy sigh. “Ye no longer can aspire to marry Caylen Munro.”
Gisela fought not to grin. “Oh? Why is that, Mother?”
“He is betrothed. I suppose the poor boy found another to get over his broken heart. Ye hurt him deeply, I do believe.”
Sometimes, Gisela wondered how her mother could weave such a different world for herself that was so very different than reality. It was a nice world, she conceded, albeit a bit strange.
“And who is the lucky woman?”
“A Mackenzie. Laird Munro is thrilled over the alliance with the clan. Although it is to one of the smaller Mackenzie clans, it is still quite an accomplishment. Lady Munro is planning several celebrations leading up to the wedding.”
“I am happy for all of them.”
“Yes, indeed.” Her mother than took her hands. “Oh, and I have even better news.”
Her stomach clenched. Whenever her mother came up with something, it was rarely good. “I cannot wait to hear.”
“We have been given a set of chambers in the keep. Lady Munro insists we be on hand to assist with all that has to be done.”
“Mother,” Gisela tried, but failed to keep her voice down. “We have perfect living quarters here in the village. Yer house as well as my cottage are both empty. Besides, the keep is overcrowded and smelly.”
Her mother smiled indulgently. “It will be easier for us to find husbands there.”
Lillian patted Gisela’s cheek. “Besides, Caylen and his portion of the staff will be moving to another smaller home. He is second born after all and cannot expect to remain there.”
“But interloping relatives can?” Gisela mumbled. Her mother ignored her, already scanning the space for what she intended to take with her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The clanging of metal against metal as the guards practiced rang in the air. Kieran stood just a short distance away, watching. He and a team of archers had just finished their own target practice and his right arm felt heavy. It had been a long time since he’d practiced, since he’d done much of anything actually.
Amazingly, the recovery from his injuries had been swift, but his desire to do more than eat and amble about the keep had lasted longer.
Keeping to himself and not a man who’d ever been approachable, most left him be. Of course, his brothers had not been as inclined.
Even now, Tristan walked toward him. Kieran braced for the same questions. What would ye like to do? Is there something ye wish to talk about?
Tristan grinned widely, throwing Kieran off balance. His brother usually approached tentatively, as if trying to decide how to form his words.
“Ye will never guess who I just saw in the village and brought here.” Tristan chuckled and shook his head. “Go on guess.”
“How in the hell would I know?”
“Ewan.”
Kieran stared at Tristan for a moment. “Ewan Ross, our cousin?”
“Aye,” Tristan replied with another chuckle. “He is here now, visiting with Malcolm.”
Turning to the main keep, Kieran narrowed his eyes. “Why is he here?”
“He is asking to remain here for a period of time, something about needing to get away.”
Despite his sour mood, Kieran was looking forward to see his cousin. They’d practically grown up together. Ewan’s family had moved off the western shores of Scotland to the Hebrides almost twenty years earlier and they’d not seen each other much since.
Tristan leaned against the wall and huffed, his expression changing. “Now that Ewan will be here, ye and he will become close again. That will leave me without a sparring partner.”
“Ye always spar against Ruari,” Kieran replied. “We always end up brawling and Da…” He stopped at realizing their father was no longer there to break them apart.
“True,” Tristan said, obviously looking to distract him. Then he suggested, “Want to spar with me now?”
Kieran considered it. He was not recovered enough for it, but he would not admit it to Tristan. His brother was huge. Although Kieran had the advantage of height, Tristan was muscular and broad.
“Very well.”
“Ha!” Tristan exclaimed, pulling his sword.
Moving a bit slower, Kieran drew his sword. The first clang of swords sent vibrations down his arm and into his chest. Kieran’s lips curved. His brother was not being gentle in the least.
Within minutes, he was drenched in sweat, his sword arm on fire. Exhausted from the short sparring session, Kieran stumbled backward and swore.
Tristan lowered his sword. “Let us go see our cousin.”
“Let’s.” Kieran felt good.
*
The moon was full, making it easy to see. Kieran had skipped last meal and taken his meal in the kitchens. Now, he ambled just outside to the vegetable garden.
“Ye have to join with the family and take part in things,” Moira said, walking up to him. “Tis long enough that ye mourn yer father, dear boy.”
The woman always treated him like a child. But for some reason, it didn’t bother him. He loved Moira, her soft yet firm voice and the way she smelled of herbs and spices.
“I am empty.” The statement surprised him. But he continued, unable to stop from it. “I thought the bastard’s death would help but, instead, I am angrier. He did not suffer enough.”
Moira stood beside him and looked up at the sky. “Ye could have drawn and quartered him and still it would not have been enough. No matter how much he would have suffered, it could never make up for the pain ye felt at seeing yer da be slain.”
“I want him back.” A tear slipped down his cheek, and Kieran ignored it. “My da was not supposed to die that day.”
“He was, darling,” Moira said. “We each have a destiny that includes the day we are to die. I believe it to be so. Whether by another’s hand or other means, fate claims us at the appointed time.”
“Then why does it feel so wrong? He was scared, was not ready…” He’d never told anyone about that day. About the terror in his father’s eyes, his pleas for help.
Moira remained quiet. The woman was wise and had known he needed to think things through.
The last words his father had spoken had been pleas for his help. And although he’d tried to help, it had been fruitless.
He’d failed his father by not saving him, by not protecting him. It didn’t matter that he’d sought and gotten revenge. Nothing would ever reverse the fact that he’d not been able to do enough the day Ethan McLeod had struck his father down.
“What should I do?” Kieran finally asked.
“Live abundantly. Take yer revenge by not giving Ethan more power over yer life than ye already have. It is what yer da would have wanted.”
A star fell across the dark sky and he followed its descent. It was that star’s destiny to go out that night.
“I will try,” he said, turning to find that Moira had left.
*
“I expected ye would be married as well,” Ewan said as he and Kieran made their way through a dense thicket in search of the deer they hunted. “Everyone seems to be.”
Kieran shrugged. “Ye’re not.”
His cousin’s laughter reminded him of the carefree time when, as youths, they’d often hunted in the same forest. “I am not the kind of man to settle.”
There were many men who preferred not to be with one woman. Ewan claimed to be one who enjoyed different women, not being tied down.
There was a sound ahead. They stopped in their tracks and listened intently. A buck sprung from behind a tree and both of them pulled back on their bows and shot.
“Now to track him.” Kieran hurried after the buck, his cousin on his heels. It occurred to him that it had been a long time since he’d enjoyed himself.
His boots crunched on fallen leaves, the whispers of branches whizzed past his ears as he ran. Birds fluttered away, their chirps announcing displeasure at being rousted.
A family of rabbits scampered away, then stopped and watched at noting they were not being chased.
Kieran pushed back low branches and continued following the buck’s trail. With heavy footfalls, his cousin’s location was easy to track. Right behind him, Ewan seemed to find every single branch to run into.
By the time they found the fallen buck, both were breathless. The grin on Ewan’s face almost made Kieran smile.
“I felled him,” Ewan announced, pulling what remained of an arrow from the buck’s neck.
Kieran inspected it. “That is one of mine.”
Ewan inspected the arrow and shrugged, throwing it over his shoulder. “It could be, but we will not know for sure.”
It had always been like that between them. Alth
ough they competed, they rarely sought glee in besting each other.
Working together, they made a cot of sorts to drag the animal back, the entire time reminiscing of times past.
“I am glad I came,” Ewan said. “I do hate that Uncle Robert is no longer here, but tis nice all the same.”
At the mention of his father, Kieran waited for the familiar pang of guilt to strike. It was slow and made his chest clench, but it wasn’t as strong as he expected.
“I am glad that ye came as well,” Kieran said, meaning it.
“We should go to the village to celebrate,” Ewan said later as they almost reached the edge of the forest. “Any pretty lasses ye can introduce me to?”
Considering most people gave him wide berth, Kieran almost laughed. “I am not the one to ask. Ruari, he would go with ye.”
Ewan studied him. “Ye do enjoy the company of women, do ye not?”
Resisting the urge to growl at the insinuation, Kieran nodded. “Aye, of course.”
“Ah,” Ewan said, shaking his head.
Whatever his cousin was thinking, Kieran shouldn’t care, but he couldn’t help but ask. “What does that mean?”
“There is one lass in particular ye save yerself for.”
“Save myself. Ye sound as if I am a virginal sot.” Kieran wanted to punch Ewan in the face. Instead, he huffed and continued walking forward. A picture of a wide-eyed and wild-haired Gisela clinging to him formed. He did miss her.
“Tell me about her,” Ewan prodded.
Kieran thought for a moment. There was no harm, he supposed, in describing Gisela to his cousin. It wasn’t as if he’d ever see her again.
“She is like this buck. Strong and untamable. Her eyes are dark, while at the same time lightening when she is happy. When she talks, she uses her entire body to make a point. Although she doesn’t try, she is graceful, kind and alluring.” Kieran stopped talking, noticing Ewan watched him intently with a questioning expression.
“Ye’re in love.” His cousin threw his head back and laughed.
“I am not. I admire her. That is all.”
Ewan shook his head. “I wish to meet this alluring creature immediately.”
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