Becca St.John (16 page)

And then she froze, as a shutter flew open, high on the wall, and a small head popped out, his voice shrill, desperate. “Mama!” He fought against someone pulling him back. “Don’t, I can hear her, she’s here!” And he leaned out again. “Wait for me, Mama!” before disappearing into the black hole of the chamber.

“You can’t go,” Padraig told her. “You can’t leave him.” He didn’t dare plead for himself. She’d just throw that back at him.

Like a cornered, wounded animal ready to fight, her gaze whipped around, seeking out Padraig, the empty open window, and the guard behind her.

“You’ve nowhere to go.” He tried to calm her. “Just talk to me.”

She looked over her shoulder as she stepped toward him. Again, Angus must have sent some sign to his men, for they stayed back, allowed her ground.

Satisfied they didn’t follow, she set her sights on Padraig again. “You’ve stolen my mount. That’s not fair.”

“He’s being well cared for.”

“You’d send me out in the wilds without so much as a ride?”

“You’d not go without Peregrine.”

“No?” She bent her head thoughtfully, as they approached each other, everyone staying far enough away to allow privacy.

“No.” Close enough now he didn’t have to shout.

“How’s your wound healing?”

He smiled, pleased she’d think of him, when she had enough on her mind. “Better,” he nodded.

“Good.” Close enough, now, he could make out her soft, deep whisper. “Then I can give you this.” She smiled.

He stepped closer, breathing in her scent, so crazy in love. What matter was it that he’d taken her horse, allowed her to be surrounded by guards. Betrayed her with entrapment, her greatest fear. That was nothing next to the heartbreak of being apart.

“What do you want to give me?” he whispered.

“This.” She kissed his cheek, pulled back, and punched his wound.

Shocked, he stood upright long enough to see her take off, through the maze of buildings in the inner bailey. With the last glimpse of her cape, he collapsed to his knees.

Deian, dressed in no more than a nightshirt and full of fury, rushed to his side.

“Where’d my mama go? What did you do with her?”

Breath struck right out of him, Padraig fought unconsciousness.

“I want my ma.” Deian clutched his shoulder and shook.

“Whoa, boy,” Angus grabbed the tyke.

Padraig reached for Angus. “No, Reah,” Padraig rasped, “Get him to Peregrine.”

“Where?” Deian demanded.

Angus pulled the lad away from Padraig. “Come, lad, I know where the animal is.”

Deian fought his hold, watching Padraig with narrowed eyes. “Are you tricking me?” he asked.

Padraig shook his head, wondering how he could ever explain to the boy that his mother wanted the horse, not him, not because she didn’t care—but because she did? How did he explain away the hurt?

Lips pulled tight, Deian nodded and looked to Angus, who had sobered considerably. Padraig watched them lope off around the keep, nodded to the boy every time he turned around to be sure Padraig hadn’t moved.

Padraig couldn’t move, slipped down onto his side like a drunk without a care for where he landed.

Och, Seonaid, why’d you have to go and do that? Now I may never find ya.’

CHAPTER 16 ~ ENOUGH

Alissa woke with a start, heart beating, as the silhouette of a large man sitting in a chair, facing her, came into focus.

“What are you doin’ in my chamber, Angus Reah?” She grappled with the covers, pulled them up to her chin. Too easily, no resistance. Patting the covers, she looked for a lump the size of a five-year-old boy. Nothing, there was nothing, no one.

“Where’s the lad?” Concern over-rode outrage.

Angus sighed. “He came to my chamber. I think he’s afraid Padraig will leave without him.”

“Och, no, poor lad.” She softened. “I thought he’d settled after all the excitement.”

Angus wiped his hand down his tired, haggard face, his eyes weighted with heavy bags beneath them. “His mother’s gone, left him. Canna’ be easy on the lad.”

She nodded, looked to the room rather than Angus. His pull was just too strong for comfort.

“It’s nearing dawn?”

She caught his nod just on the edge of her vision, so many thoughts filling her sleepy mind. Freeing herself from the temptation of Angus, worried she’d not be happy with the Macleods, fretting for the lad, and wondering just how to keep his mother here.

The boy had to be first in her thoughts.

“Do you know who she is?”

Again, she nodded. “Aye, and in a horrible way I ken what she’s up to.”

“Sad case, that.”

“Aye.” She bit her lip, finally meeting Angus’s eyes, expecting mutual regret over an impossible situation. What she saw was as sorrowful as could be. Like he was filling himself with the view of her, no thought for the boy. Which made no sense. He never asked her to stay. He never gave her a reason to stay.

In truth, his sarcasm, his contrary argument to every thought she had, gave her plenty of reason to leave.

“And what are you doing here, in my chamber, in the middle of the night?”

“I’ve sent Padraig to the cottage with the healers. Couldna’ sleep with them in my chamber,” he groused.

“And now that it’s empty, you come to keep me from sleep.”

“Aye,” he stretched back, a whole body yawn.

She threw up her hands, only to scramble and grab the blankets she’d let go of. “Is the lad with them?”

“Aye, and I hope his mother is, too.”

“And the horse?”

“Surrounded by guards, though they’re supposed to be hiding in hopes she’ll go for the beast.”

“A sound plan.”

“Ho!” he shouted, “she’s agreeing with me!” He looked to the ceiling, as Alissa tried to quiet him. “Did you hear that, Lord? She’s agreeing with something I did.”

“Shush!” She was on her knees, waving her hand at him. “Quiet! I’ve not saved my innocence for you to tarnish by being here!”

Startled, he stilled, the whole chamber eerily silent. “I’d not thought.”

She sat back down. “More fool you.” And looked away again rather than fret over how worn down he seemed. “Ya’ need your sleep. Go to bed.”

“I canna’ sleep.”

“Don’t be daft. You look about ready to keel over.”

“I want to share your bed.”

Alissa scuttled to the far side, pulling the blankets above her chin. “Oh no, you don’t.”

“Och, I’ve made a mess of this.” He rose, all rough six feet of him. “Not like that…well, aye, like that, but not to ruin you. I want you to stay here with me, by my side, running this keep like your ma did.”

“As your mistress?” she gasped.

“No! Woman, do you not ken what I’m askin’? I want you to wife.” He stalked away, toward the door. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Am I the only one who sees what we have between us?”

And he stalked out, not checking to see if anyone saw. Not giving her a moment to absorb his words.

I want you to wife.

Oh, Lord, no, he was not the only one to see what was between them.

Alissa collapsed back on the bed. And here she’d gone and promised herself.

The man had a poor sense of timing.

CHAPTER 17 ~ CONCESSION

Seonaid finished her exercises to the gray-tinged sky, prelude to dawn. She was late, preferred to be at prayer by this time, but there was no hope for it. The night had been long and full, even after her escape from Eriboll. Images of Deian calling to her, running across the courtyard, thwarted rest. Her heart ached, broken in two pieces, her thoughts in turmoil.

Just over her shoulder the rise in land led to a view of Eriboll Keep. To stay or to go? She folded down to her knees, hands raised before her chest, hands pressed together.

No matter the gravity of life, gratitude must come first. A meager list this morning, feeling small and alone, with little to no hope. Faith a distant spark, but enough to believe things would get better. Had to. If she could just be thankful for something.

Anything.

Deian was alive and well and cared for. Padraig, though sore—she would do penance later—would live.

And she was thankful her secrets were out. Och, awful, horrible secrets twisting her inners, squeezing out bitter, hostile anger. The irony of the release, of everyone knowing, that it stripped her of dreams, stole her son at the same time it purged its weight. Like a candle lit in a cave, prelude to a bright fire, she felt a brightness touching her heart.

Alone, that’s what those secrets made her. So alone she couldn’t even enjoy her son, left his care to others, rather than taint him with the anger of all that was hidden. Deian would be free of that now. He would have a new life, a better life, without any stain to ruin him.

And Padraig would find a sweet, kind wife. A wife who would always see his kindness, consideration, strength. Not like her, throwing it back at him as if it held no value.

Because he was valuable, a prize to any woman.

“Thank you for Padraig,” she said aloud, for he had changed her in these days, with the secret released from its stranglehold. “Thank you for his patience, his laughter, his love. Reward him, please, for being so good to me.”

“The best reward would be you.”

She spun around to see him there, holding Peregrine’s reins. She wanted to run to him, to wrap her arms around him, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t. He’d brought her the means of escape.

He ripped her heart out by doing so.

“You should be abed,” she chastised. He looked to the heavens, as if he believed in God, would look to God for answers. She knew better.

“Come with me.” He held out his hand.

That he would trust her, after what she’d done, kept her from getting up from where she knelt.

“I don’t deserve you.” Honesty, she was learning, offered more comfort than lies. Even when it robbed you of those you loved.

“Don’t you? And how are you to know? Maybe your God wants you in my life to offer an introduction. We’ve yet to meet, Him and I.”

How did he do that? Make her laugh when life was at its lowest ebb.

She rose. “Do you think that’s His plan? To stick you with me to torture you for your blasphemy?”

He nodded. She was pleased to see him flinch when she moved closer. Good man, to be prepared, though she wouldn’t hurt him, owed him penance for what she’d done.

Still, she wasn’t sure what she moved nearer for. Probably just to be closer, to feel the heat of him, even from a distance. To see how he fared. Could he really stand there, just like that?

“If you leave Peregrine with me, how are you planning to get back to the keep?”

“You’ll get me there.”

“And if I decide not to?”

“The wolves will get me?”

She stayed her approach, remaining an arm’s reach away. “I don’t know what to do, Padraig. That’s where I was going with my prayers, to ask for help.”

“And I’m here. The answer to those prayers.” He smiled, shifted Peregrine’s muzzle so it protected his injured shoulder.

“Smart man.” She nodded, brightness, happiness welling inside, even when she knew she should dampen it. Nothing was light and bright; there were too many obstacles.

“Deian and I need you, Seonaid.” He stepped forward now. “More than any slaying by gossips.” He reached out, for her to take his hand. “We were made to fight battles, Deian, too. Let’s fight them together. We’re strong enough, never doubt that.”

She couldn’t take his hand, turned away from it. “I don’t know, Padraig. It’s easy to imagine how life should be, could be, but you don’t know how it’s been. Even with all my secrets hidden inside, people looked and whispered and frowned at me.”

“Seonaid, you are beautiful and proud and stand your ground. Of course people are going to wag their fingers and whisper. They’re jealous.”

“And now it will be pity.”

“Aye.” He didn’t deny it. “And if you wander off all by yourself, giving up your heart, you will deserve that pity.” He let his hand drop. “So show them you don’t need their condescension. Show them that you have love in your heart for your lad, for your man. Show them the joy you can feel, instead of that deep well of pain. It’s gone now, Seonaid. It’s the past. Let us be your tomorrow.”

So easily said, promised, but he didn’t know.

“Did you really only bring the one mount?”

He looked back over his shoulder, at the round top of the hill, before facing her, as if all the pain of his wound, of her life, rested on his shoulders. She didn’t want him burdened with who she was.

“No.” He sighed. “I’ve Tarvos with me.”

“Do you need help mounting?”

Padraig snorted, lifted one side of his mouth, a little half moon of a smile. “Oh, I’d love your help to mount.” And she knew he didn’t mean the horse, but refused to let him know that.

“If I remember correctly, there’s a large boulder that can help you.”

“Aye,” he nodded. “And it’s sitting right on your shoulder.”

That hurt, but he deserved his snipe.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Padraig, but somehow, I will get word to you.”

“And Deian?”

“I will meet with him, try to help him understand. I know that now, that he needs that.”

“He needs more than that.”

“He needs what is best for him,” she countered.

At an impasse, they stood, each stubborn in their ways. Padraig relented first. “Here.” He handed over Peregrine’s reins.

“Thank you.” Her last obstacle, she took them.

“Did you mean that, what you said in your prayers, about being grateful for me?”

With all they’d been through, the travels, the battles, the passions, how could he ask such a thing?

Lips thinned with impatience, he said, “You asked God to reward me.”

Of course she did. He was one of the best parts of her life, but she dared not speak, less a torrent of sorrow escape. She dipped her head.

“I know what I want that reward to be,” he told her and walked away.

vvvvvv

Padraig made it back to the stone cottage where he found Jasmine surrounded with bowls and herbs. After a sharp look to see who entered, she returned to her work. Deian hurtled from the window seat and grabbed both his legs in a bear’s hug.