Every Heart Has Its Day

“Forever.”

Forever.
She could hope for no more than a day.

He suckled on her earlobe, then nibbled a trail down her neck. Warmth kindled to a full blaze when he kissed a path up her neck, drew back, and looked into her eyes.

The love in the depths of his gilded orbs sent her heart tapping like a woodpecker’s beak. She turned away. She had too much sense to believe he spoke to her.

Gentle fingers nudged her chin. “Look at me.”

Moisture stung her eyes. Her laird’s incessant barbs echoed in the niches of her mind. She was not worthy of this man, nor any other. A tear escaped.

He wiped away the drop with the pad of his thumb. “Fret not. We shall find a way.”

His breath feathered her lips. She moistened them with the tip of her tongue.

“Allow me.”

He ran his tongue over her lips, then gently savored them. She should pull away, but chose not to.

Praise for Every Heart Has Its Day

Powerful…compelling…sensual…magical. Lady Kasey’s plight draws you in from the first page. Strong plotting, lively characters, and the lush setting of fourteenth-century Scotland culminate in a dramatic climax that totally satisfies, yet leaves you dreaming of more—much more.

~Lily Stone, author of
Sparks of Magic

Ms. Lukow proves herself to be a master storyteller. 
Every Heart…
has memorable characters and breathtaking sensuality. This one is a definite keeper.

~Judi Lynne, author of
Yankee Angel

Lynda Lukow infuses her storytelling with sensuous flesh

and bone characters, vivid plots, and engaging narrative.
Every Heart
will captivate readers in its tender tale of fated lovers and the power of true love.

~Jennifer Akers, MyShelf.com reviewer

Every Heart Has Its Day

by

Lynda Lukow

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Every Heart Has Its Day

COPYRIGHT
Ó
2008 by Lynda E. Lukow

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [email protected]

Cover Art by
Nicola Martinez

The Wild Rose Press

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First English Tea Rose Edition, 2008

Print ISBN 1-60154-395-6

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

I wish to dedicate
Every Heart Has Its Day
to...

Jeff, my Hunter, who showed me the patience and strength of true love;

my children, who brainstormed, edited, and acted out scenes;

Faith, Judi, and Jake—my partners in mayhem;

Linda and Judy—my mentors;

Ginny, Mary, Jen, and Eleyne, who encouraged and believed;

Kat O’Shea, editor extraordinaire; and everyone who believes dreams can come true.

Chapter One

SCOTLAND, MAY 1343

Blackness separated her from the amber glow. Terror stole her breath. Trust in those around her shattered. Deceit, fear, and pain became her constant companions. Yet beyond the threats lay strength, determination, hope, and love. Peace awaited her within the glow of the amber light—if she could survive the journey.

Lady Kasey Cameron gulped in air and pulled her arisaide tighter around her shoulders. Though she had yet to understand the foretoken, she could not deny her fear heightened with each occurrence.

“Be ye unwell, daughter?”

“Shall I decline the king’s invitation?”

“Nay, child. Yer destiny awaits ye.”

Kasey sighed. Therein lay her fears. Mayhap if she stayed home, her vision would not come true.

“Ye leave at the morrow’s first light.” Her mother handed her a sack, made from a threadbare tunic. “I have packed some fare. Let us enjoy our last night together.”

Kasey cast a sideways glance as they walked toward the stream, where rippling water usually washed away their cares. She hoped this day the water would rinse the concern from her mother’s face. “Aught troubles ye, mother?”

“Ye be the finest healer I ken. Ye must trust yer gift.”

“Ye have taught me well, Mother.”

“My words mean naught without yer talent. Remember, ’tis yer duty to aid all who need.”

“Except if he or she be an enemy to the House of Cameron.” All her life, Kasey had been taught never compromise her fealty to her king, her laird, and her clan.

“Nay. Everyone’s life has worth.”

Kasey glanced around. If the laird learned of her mother’s disloyalty, she would again suffer his rage. Mama already bore too many scars, gained for lesser sins.

“Do what ye ken to be right, and I shall support ye.” Lady Brietta placed her hand on Kasey’s arm. “If ye should ever need a healer yerself remember others in yer family have died after taking vervain. Do ye understand? The herb will kill ye.”

Kasey’s chest tightened. Previous visitations had offered no threat.

“I be weary. Shall we enjoy our fare here?” Lady Brietta sank onto a boulder. “Mayhap ye have aught to discuss?”

Kasey sat and unpacked the bread and cheese.

Her mother cupped her cheek. “We have little time.”

“I would appreciate yer counsel.” She sighed, fearful her mother would think she had lost her wits. “There be times I feel I live life twice.”

“I see.”

“Ye canna.” Kasey turned away. “I have dreams while awake. Then in the near future I see or do just as I had dreamt.”

“Ye have been twice blessed, though second sight be a difficult gift to accept.” Brietta broke the bread and handed her a piece. “Tell me of yer dreams.”

“Before I arrived at Inverness last summer, I saw myself in a gilded room unlike any I had ever seen.” Kasey waved a hand. “The rest be silly.”

“Mayhap I could use a laugh.”

“I met a man with golden brown eyes who acted as if no one save he and I stood in the hall.” Kasey brushed a leaf from her gown. “After I arrived, I noticed the great hall looked exactly as it had in my vision.”

“And the man?”

Kasey shrugged. “Only in my dreams could I hope to enchant such a handsome man.”

“Ye take yer charms too lightly.” Brietta lifted her daughter’s chin. “Would ye like me to tell more of him?”

Intrigued, Kasey leaned forward and nodded.

“He stands more than a head taller than ye. His wavy, brown hair touches the top of his broad shoulders. He be strong, but his limbs dinna yet have bulk.”

She gaped. “How did ye know? I mentioned only his eyes.”

“Because I, too, have envisioned him. The time to meet him in the flesh draws near.” Brietta took Kasey’s hand. “Ye will be forced to rely upon only yerself for a considerable time. No matter how dark the present seems, remember yer future will be bright.”

A chill coursed down Kasey’s spine. “Ye willna be with me?”

“Even after they lay my body to rest, my spirit will live in yer heart. Whenever ye need my counsel, trust the voice ye hear, for it will be mine.”

Kasey looked at the cheese and bread lying in her lap. She doubted the food would get past the lump in her throat.

“Shall we head back to the keep now?”

Kasey started to rise, but found her legs too weak to support her. Her mother offered her a hand, which she held as they walked home. “If foresight has told of yer impending death, can we do naught to alter the future?”

Brietta lowered her gaze and shook her head.

“Why?”

“Life be like the plaid ye wear. Should one strand break, little time passes until those around it unravel. If we alter my destiny, we would also alter others.”

“Foresight seems more a curse than a gift.”

“Sometimes it be so.” Brietta removed a pendant from beneath her collar and handed it to her daughter. “Take this.”

Kasey studied the large ruby framed with silver and gold. The casing held four small diamonds, positioned like the endpoints of a cross. “Oh, Mother, it be much too precious!”

“Its value lies not in the jewels.” Brietta took the amulet and tied it around Kasey’s neck. “This charm stone has been passed down from healer to healer. Yer time has come.”

****

“Ye can dally no longer.”

“Milord?” Connor Mackintosh leaned back in his chair and crossed his booted ankles. He quelled the urge to laugh when his father threw his arms into the air and looked at the ceiling of the hall, as if beseeching his maker for patience.

“Dinna scoff at me, son.”

Connor bowed his head, though only to hide his smile. He knew full well to what his father referred.

“Leading both the Mackintoshes and Clan Chattan requires more vigor than remains in these old bones. But I canna turn over the reins until ye be properly settled.”

“Ye mean betrothed.”

“I mean wedded. If ye fail to choose a bride by harvest time, I shall be forced to arrange an acceptable union.”

“Acceptable to whom, milord?”

“It be yer duty.” Laird Mackintosh pounded the table. “The king has entrusted the laird of our clan with the federation’s captaincy. I shall not see that honor revoked.”

“Ye speak as if yer position be at risk.”

“My appointment be secure. ’Tis yer future at stake.” Caedmon swirled the ale in his goblet. “Ye ken yer sister be enamored with the new laird MacPherson.”

“Does Euan return the affection?”

“Hard to say. He treats Annie well enough, but I wonder if he cares for her or the advantages of a MacPherson-Mackintosh union. The longer ye remain without an heir, the better Euan’s chances of gaining the captaincy.”

Connor sighed. He hated bowing to the future’s demands. “Pray tell me, milord, which lass would ye saddle me with?”

Laird Mackintosh drummed his fingers on the table. “Yer bride would have to be a strong woman. ’Twould be better if she found something attractive in ye, else she wouldna abide yer many faults.”

“Would ye care to list my numerous deficiencies?”

“Not enough time.” Caedmon waved his hand. “Of course, ’twould be better if the union enhanced our clan’s status.”

“But not necessary since the Mackintoshes be amongst the king’s most favored.”

“True.” Caedmon paused, then nodded. “I know. Ciara MacPherson.”

“I think not. She be but a child.”

“She be old enough to visit Inverness this year. Mayhap Laird MacPherson would appreciate a Mackintosh escort. ’Twould give ye some time to get to know her better.”

“She has followed my every step for years. I know her as well as I wish.”

“A union with her would squelch any hope of success should MacPherson petition for the captaincy.”

“I shall retain the captaincy based upon my merits, not through a convenient marriage.”

“Let us hope. Ye know yer duty, Connor.”

Ciara MacPherson? Ciara MacPherson be but a candle compared to the blaze Connor desired. He burned to caress that woman’s every curve from her full breasts to her rounded hips.

He took a deep breath. If just thinking about her tightened his loins, how would he act if he held her in his arms? He shook his head. Not if, but when. Fate may have placed the woman of his dreams in an opposing clan, but fate be damned. He would find a way to claim her.

****

Kasey heaved a sigh loud enough to gain the attention of those around her. She cleared her throat, then nudged her horse close enough to crowd her maid’s mount.

“Aught vexes ye, Lady Kasey?”

She glared at her lady’s maid. “I shall ask once again. What did my mother give ye?”

“Naught, milady.”

“Pull up yer sleeve, Evonne.”

“Milady?”

“If ye have naught to hide...” Her maid tugged up her right sleeve. Kasey sighed. “The other one.”

“Och, ye act like a starving dog with a bone.” Evonne pulled her sleeve just past her wrist and exposed the epistle. “Lady Brietta ordered me to deliver this to the king’s emissary.”

“What does it say?”

“I assure ye, milady, I be not privy to its contents.”

Kasey narrowed her eyes. “Ye lied about having the missive. How can I trust ye speak the truth now?”

“We have been friends since birth. Ye ken I share aught of import.”

“Swear ye know naught of its contents.”

Evonne put her right fist over her heart. “I vow I be as curious as ye, milady.”

Kasey nodded. “I suppose my mother sealed it.”

“Aye, milady.”

The women smiled at each other and giggled.

Randall, the Cameron’s second-in-command, gained her side. “Aught amuses ye, milady?”

Kasey reined her horse to the right. “I be surprised ye lead my escort, Randall. Ye have often proclaimed this task below ye.”

“I follow my laird’s orders.” He kneed his horse ahead.

Some women found the Cameron warrior’s thick build to their liking, but Kasey could never see past his eyes. Darker than a moonless midnight, his gaze made her skin crawl.

She shook her head. Evonne’s deceit, Randall’s presence, the stronger visions, as well as the nag the stable master had assigned her made the journey seem eternal.

In years past, she rode in a cart that jostled as if it had a square wheel. But this year her mother finally convinced their laird that Kasey could handle a mount of her own.

She had welcomed the news. Since the summer Broderick taught her to ride, she found naught more thrilling than soaring over the ground on a spirited steed. She looked down. The poor beast she rode should be allowed to live its few remaining years in peace rather than making such a rigorous journey.

“Kasey?”

She jerked her head up. “I dinna recall giving ye leave to address me thus, Randall.”

He glared at her. “I have traveled more distance backward than I have forward.”

“The blame be not mine, Randall. If I had been given a stouter mount...”

“If milady wishes, I shall gladly put that nag out of her misery.” Randall leered. “Ye can finish the journey on my lap.”

“I think not.” Despite her pity for the horse, Kasey could not stomach the thought. “I shall do my best not to further delay this journey.”

****

Connor sat in the garden and stared at the stars. The cool, sweet air slowed his thundering heart and dried his damp brow, yet he could not shake the nightmare.

“Ye be a fool.”

Connor shook his head. “I dinna mean to wake ye.”

“Then ye stepped on my hand by accident?”

“Had I intended ye harm, I would have stepped on yer head.”

“Ye have yet to speak to her.”

Connor glared at his younger brother. He considered denying the root of his restlessness, but Gavin knew him too well. “She will be mine.”

“Even if her laird accepts yer suit, our clan elders will never allow the union.”

“Ye believe a father’s black blood courses through his child, too?”

“Nay, but the rose grows close to the thorn.”

“I dinna wish to banter words. Ye and the others will have to trust my judgment.”

“’Twould be easier if ye would open yer eyes. Every lady here would give her eyeteeth to wed ye.”

Connor sighed. “Every one, save one.”

“Mayhap that explains the attraction. Do ye desire her solely because ye canna have her?”

“Nay, ’tis much more.”

“God’s blood, Connor, she be a withered pee-the-bed in a spring garden.”

“Enough.” Connor strode over to the garden and plucked a dandelion. “To ye this may be naught but a weed, but to the starving its leaves provide sustenance. To the healer this plant cures many ills.”

“Ye be neither starving nor ill.”