DevilsHeart (22 page)

He loved her.

Loved.

Her.

The rustle of clothing drew her attention and she blinked
her eyes open. Just a bare hint of light seeped around the fur window
coverings.

“Hey, lass,” Rathe murmured. Then he was at her side, his
calloused hand brushing the hair back from her sleepy eyes. His breath, warm
and sweet caressed her forehead as he brushed a kiss over her temple. “I am
being called away for a bit.”

Away? She sprang upward, clutching the blankets to her chest
as the cold air of the poorly heated room swirled around her naked skin. “What?
Why?”

The bed sank as he sat next to her. “It is unclear what is
happening, but there is trouble again along the MacAirth border. Galen is
reporting raids onto his land. Some cottages have been burned with the families
barely escaping.”

A chill ran down her spine. “Anna and the children? Are they
all right?”

He nodded, a grave expression settling into his brow. “As
far as I know. Galen will not hesitate to send them here if there is further
trouble. Prepare a chamber, just in case.”

He moved to stand but she caught his arm, her stomach
churning with trepidation. “How long will you be gone?”

“I do not know.”

She shifted her eyes back and forth as a sudden need to
stall him consumed her. “Will you send word to me now and then? Just so I know
you are safe?”

He smiled and clasped her hand. “When it is convenient.”

She rolled her eyes and he chuckled, moving to stand again.
She gripped his hand tighter. “I-I—”

He raised his brows, staring into her eyes as though
attempting to reveal her soul. “You what?”

“I—” She dropped his gaze. It was too intense. Too full of
expectation. But she wasn’t ready. Doubtful of the strange emotions swirling
through her for the past several weeks, she bit her lower lip. “I want you to
come home safe. No getting hurt and no dying.”

She dared a glance up. He pressed his lips together in a
knowing smile and nodded as though accepting something she wasn’t
acknowledging. Annoyance flashed through her but then vanished as he leaned
forward and gave her a long kiss. Tears stung her eyes and she grasped his face
between her hands, pressing her lips into his, saturating the physical
affection with all the unspoken emotions and fears for which she still had no
words.

Goose bumps scattered across her flesh as he pulled away.
She allowed her hands to drop into her lap.

He paused with his hand on the door handle and turned back
to her. “I will come back, lass. I swear. It is not my time yet.”

He flashed her one of his devastating, devilish grins and
slipped out the door.

All the air left her lungs at once. She sat in the silent
room, straining to hear what was going on outside. Once his voice carried up to
her from the courtyard, she leapt from the bed, dragged a blanket around her
shoulders and rushed to the window. Pulling the fur back, she peered down just
as he mounted his horse. He glanced up toward her, his face cracking into a
pleased grin.

She waved and he gave her a nod before turning his horse
toward the open gate. A large contingent of mounted warriors waited for him
outside the castle walls. Tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood. Why did he
need so many men?

She couldn’t tear herself away from the window until Rathe
and his men had disappeared into the mountain pass to the south. By that point
her knees had been locked into position for so long they’d grown almost numb
with stiffness.

She pushed away from the window and tossed the blanket onto
the bed. She hadn’t seen him since he’d uttered those frightening, wonderful
words yesterday afternoon. Not long before supper, men had arrived from the
MacAirth holding and Rathe, along with several of his men, holed up in the
great hall. Animated discussions went on for hours and Leah had only heard bits
and pieces as she walked up and down the servants’ corridor to the kitchen
along with the children. She’d caught the discussions about skirmishes and
unknown men roaming about, but nothing about cottages being burned to the
ground.

She sent up a silent prayer for all those involved as she
dropped to her knees to pull fresh clothing from the trunk at the end of the
bed. Pulling out one of her newer, warmer overdresses, she donned her chemise
and yanked the soft, rust-colored garment over her head. Unlike the one she’d
worn yesterday, this one at least had gold ribbons along the sides to allow for
the changes in her body.

“I am such a fucking coward,” she muttered in English,
twisting to lace the gown down each side.

She would have to tell him at some point. After all, how
much more time did she have until she started to show? She never did have
another period once she started sleeping with Rathe, making her at least two months
along.

Which meant she would give birth well before the fall
equinox.

She shook her head, already weary from the thoughts spinning
in overdrive through her mind. Even if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, could she
really leave? Leave Màiri and little Daniel? Not to mention Rathe. She groaned,
her face falling into her hands. How could she have let this happen?

She sighed and delved back into the trunk for stockings. Her
hand brushed against the half-used bundle of herbs buried at the bottom. Anna
had warned her it might not work and would do no good at all if she were
already pregnant. The latter seemed to be the case and once she’d missed her
first period and the breast tenderness begun, the herbs sat unused at the
bottom of the trunk.

It was all too complicated now. Her stomach ached at Rathe’s
absence and already the pins and needles of waiting for him to return had set
in. His laugh made her smile, freed her of her worries. Funny how she had gone
from a nervous wreck for most of her life to free and relaxed in this man’s
presence. He never criticized her or made her feel any less than beautiful and
smart. He always proudly hauled her up to his side in the presence of others
and often encouraged her to offer up her opinions on whatever matter was at
hand. To be valued, cared for and encouraged was a breath of fresh air.

And all this coming from a supposedly misogynistic
thirteenth-century man? She shook her head in amazement.

And more amazing still, he loved her. He’d said it so fast
it took a little longer than normal to translate the Gaelic in her head. Torn
between needing to see him and gratitude he was too busy with the MacAirth
contingent that had arrived, she’d spent most of her time the day before
distracted and on edge.

Did she love him? Maybe. A spiral of depression would unwind
in her stomach every time she contemplated going back to her old life. But what
then? Could she really move on and find love with another man when Rathe’s
image haunted her? Lying in bed next to someone, looking across the table at
dinner, holing up by the fire on a wintry night. Only Rathe came to mind.

“
Mamaidh?
”

Leah looked up as she slid one stocking over her foot.
Màiri’s little face peered at her through the cracked-open door.

Mommy.
Wow. Even after all this time it still took
her a second to realize the little girl was speaking to her. Leah supposed she
should have been irritated or something by Rathe’s automatic assumption she
would take over the care of his children and fulfill the role of mother by
virtue of marrying him.

But she didn’t. It had never felt like a bother. Màiri was a
delight—well-behaved and with a good heart. And even little Daniel was finally
coming out of his shell and beginning to talk. He was already two years old and
hadn’t uttered a single word until a couple of weeks after Leah had arrived.
Everyone had just assumed something was amiss with him. In the end, the boy
simply needed a steady main caretaker in order to blossom.

Leah smiled at the little girl and pulled on the second
stocking before waving her into the room. Màiri ran in, clutching her floppy
fabric doll to her chest, and curled up in Leah’s lap.

Leah brushed a stray curl that had escaped the girl’s braid
behind her ear. “Why are you up so early, little one?”

“Daddy’s gone,” she mumbled, laying her head on Leah’s
chest.

Leah kissed her head and gave her a gentle squeeze, her
heart warmed by how dearly this little girl loved her father. “I know.”

Leah laid her cheek on the top of Màiri’s head while she
fidgeted with her doll.

From out of nowhere Màiri suddenly blurted out, “Can I help
you with the new baby?”

Leah yanked her head back and stared at Màiri for several
seconds, dumbfounded. “What baby?”

“The one in your tummy,” she replied with a dramatic sigh.
“You know, my new brother or sister.”

Leah blinked several times in bewilderment. She hadn’t told
anyone. Not a single soul. “Where did you hear that?”

Màiri shrugged. “Mòrag and Flora. Are you and Daddy going to
make me go away if it is a little brother? Because I can help. I do not want to
go away.”

The distress in her voice broke Leah’s heart. “Oh, sweetie,
where did you get an idea like that?”

“Calum and Marc said if you had a boy, you would not need me
anymore.”

Leah rolled her eyes. Word had obviously gotten around the
clan if Brodie’s ten-year-old twin boys already knew. “Don’t you worry, honey.
We will always need you. You’re not going anywhere.”

But the little girl’s fears were not eased. “They also said
you cannot love me because you are not my real mommy.”

Ugh. Those boys. Leah had half a mind to box their ears the
next time she saw them. How dare they tease Màiri so heartlessly? Why…

From out of nowhere, a fullness entered her heart, breaking
it open and sending a flood of emotion through her body.
Love.
She did
love Màiri. And little Daniel.

And Rathe. God help her, but she did. She loved him.

All at once, she gave in, embracing this strange, sweet,
primitive life into which she’d stumbled. This was where she was meant to be.
This was where her life mattered.

“What does a mommy do?” she asked, smoothing Màiri’s chemise
down along her leg.

“She feeds her babies and cuddles them and helps them when
they are hurt.”

Leah nodded. “What else?”

Màiri screwed up her face as she thought. Then her eyes
popped wide open. “She sings to them and stops them from being naughty.”

Leah laughed. “Does she love them?”

Màiri lifted her now solemn eyes up to hers and nodded.

“Do you feel like I am your mommy?”

The little girl hesitated but then gave Leah a shy nod.

Leah smiled. “You’re right. I am.”

Màiri giggled and curled into Leah.

Leah squeezed her again as tears filled her eyes. “You’re
going to be the best big sister ever,” she whispered.

* * * * *

“My lady! My lady!” Flora’s voice called, shaking with
urgency.

It pulled Leah out of a deep slumber. She blinked her eyes
open and sat up. “What is it?” She started to stretch a kink out of her neck
but then froze as she caught the alarmed expression on Flora’s face. Dread
crept over her shoulders. Something was wrong.

“Some cottages to the south have been burnt.”

Leah’s breath caught in her throat. “Burnt? When?”

“Not long ago,” Flora gulped, wringing her hands. “The
families are on their way in now.”

Shouts floated through the window from the courtyard and
Leah leapt from the bed, running to the window. “Was anyone hurt?” she asked,
pulling the fur covering aside.

A cold blast of air hit her in the face. Only a small sliver
of sun peeked over the horizon but dozens of families were streaming into the
courtyard. Old women with walking sticks. Sleepy children with bare legs
clinging to their parents. Men with soot-blackened faces, clothing singed
around the edges, hands and arms reddened.

“My lady?”

Flora’s voice was tinged with fear and anguish. Leah’s mind
raced in panic. The clan would be turning to her, wouldn’t they? She was the
lady of the keep, after all. But what should she do? Rathe had been gone for
two days already. Could she hold everything together long enough for him to get
back?

“Will you help me dress?” she asked, whirling around to face
Flora.

“Of course, my lady.”

Within minutes, Leah was slipping on her shoes and running
out the door. “Stay with the children, please,” she called out as she ran down
the corridor.

She flew down the stairs. The door to the great hall had
been thrown open. Mòrag directed injured and tired clansmen and -women through
the door while servants crisscrossed the room with bandages and water. She
stopped as a young boy of about twelve years was laid out on one of the tables.
He groaned as a man tore charred and tattered fabric away from the boy’s legs
and arms.

Cries and shouts echoed through the high ceilings, blurring
in her ears into an excruciating din. She grabbed a cloth from a servant and
dipped it in a bowl of water. With a gentle sweep across the boy’s forehead and
cheeks, she cleaned away the sweat and grime as she spoke to him in soft,
reassuring tones. She continued her ministrations as the man beside her worked,
her heart breaking as tears of pain spilled from the boy’s eyes.

A hand grabbed her arm. “My lady,” Mòrag said, “you are
needed outside.”

Leah nodded and handed her the cloth for her to continue. In
an anguished daze, she threaded her way through the crowd and out to the
courtyard. People were still streaming through the gate. But this new wave
showed no signs of having escaped any burning buildings. No one was injured. No
one’s clothing was singed or their faces sooted.

Brodie waved at her and rushed over. “My lady, they are all
coming now. It is a panic.”