Every Heart Has Its Day (11 page)

“Gavin?”

He looked over his shoulder. His breath caught. An angel, shrouded in white linen and lace, gripped the sides of the chair two men lowered to the rushes. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked, but his mouth would not form the words.

Her smile did not reach her eyes.

He knelt, took hold of her hands, but could not look in her eyes. “Ye need not do this.”

She pulled one hand away and drew it along his jaw. He inhaled when she pushed his chin up. “Ye be certain ye want me?”

“Aye. Ye dinna ken, but I had planned on taking ye from Inverness to my home.”

“My laird would have paid no ransom.”

“My sweet, no mon has enough gold to free ye from me.”

“Much has changed since Inverness.”

He lifted the hand he still held and placed it over his heart. “Not here. Please, tell me ye will be my wife.”

****

Night had fallen by the time the MacDonnell offered his first toast to the bride and groom. Gavin hoped to leave immediately after the ceremony, but the laird insisted the hour too late and pleaded the need to celebrate. He claimed that Evonne had become like a daughter to him, then threatened if Gavin deprived him the joy of a feast, he would have to forbid the Mackintoshes access to his land.

Gavin did not wish to delay Connor’s happiness, but the thought of spending the night on a soft pallet with his wife in his arms offered too much temptation. Besides, Dillon’s missive had not implied urgency.

The candles throughout the hall had burned down to nubs by the time Gavin thanked the MacDonnell for his generosity and asked to be excused. He carried Evonne up to her bedchamber and placed her on the pallet.

She sat upright, her legs extended before her. “Do ye like my kirtle? This be the gown the laird’s wife wore when they married.”

“I would like to help ye remove it.”

“Gavin—”

“Please, my sweet, dinna deny me this privilege.” He sat behind her and removed the pins and ribbons that bound her hair atop her head. He threaded his fingers through the loosened tresses. “Ye smell like a hillside of honeysuckle.”

He pushed her hair over one shoulder and unlaced the ribbons closing the gown. “Lift yer hip, please.”

She took her time, but complied.

He pulled the length up above her nicely rounded bottom. “Now the other side.”

After he gathered the cloth about her waist, he eased the garment over her head. Wee bumps covered her arms. “Be ye cold?”

Her denial meant she felt the magic, too. He had no intention of consummating their marriage before she fully healed, but he could not resist touching her. He lifted her onto his lap and slid up to the head of the pallet.

For the first time in his life, he did not mind having his back against a wall. How could he? He had his arms wrapped around his love, her bottom hugged his manhood, and her breath feathered his neck.

“Gavin?”

“Hmm?”

“Ye plan to sleep in yer clothes?”

“I think it wise.”

She untied the lace of his tunic, then slipped her hand through the neckline. Icy fingers teased his breast. Warm lips flitted along his neck.

He stilled her hand and leaned away.

“Ye dinna want me?”

He set her aside and placed her hand on his groin. “I be not made of stone, wife.”

“Ye utter a falsehood, husband. Ye be hard as a rock.”

“Ye could tempt a saint” He leaned down and kissed her thoroughly. “We wait until ye heal.”

“Ye can heal me.” She gazed into his eyes as she lifted her chemise over her head. “Love me, please.”

He gritted his teeth. “Ye be sure?” She worried her lip, and he waited what seemed like an eternity for her nod. Tears spiked her lashes.

“Do ye trust me?”

He held his breath, thankful this nod did not take as long.

A good while later, as he drifted off to sleep, she sighed. He grinned and rolled over to collect her into his arms. “Did I hurt ye?”

She bumped her head against his chin when she shook her head. “I dinna ken it could be like this.”

“Now, my love, ye no longer be a virgin.”

****

A gentle finger pushed her hair from her eyes, then stroked her cheek. Every muscle in her body tightened. She could not tolerate another conquest.

Warm, moist lips kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. The feather-light touches penetrated her sleep-fogged brain. Her eyes snapped open. He winked.

Heat rose to her cheeks, but she managed a trembling smile. She hoped someday the memories of past sins would fade like morning fog and prayed Gavin would be patient.

“A kiss afore I leave?”

Hoping to replace the pain his words caused, she bit her lip. Had she repulsed him so much he needed to escape already? She swallowed hard. “Ye dinna find our coupling to yer satisfaction?”

His eyes grew wider than she thought possible, but he quickly narrowed them. Their slits mirrored the line of his lips. “Ye think me no better than Camerons?”

He bounded from the bed and stared down at her. “To leave ye behind after we have shared the most wondrous night of my life pains me more than I can say.”

“Then take me with ye.” The hope wrought by his words drained when he shook his head. Determined not to cry, she pinched her eyes shut. She would be thankful he had gifted her with one night.

She slid away from the hand he laid on her cheek. She could not keep her sorrow, her anger, contained if he touched her.

“Look at me, Evonne.”

She shook her head.

He chuckled.

“I be delighted ye find humor in this.”

“Ye be too stubborn.” He reached out, and then drew his hand back to his side. “I canna be so selfish.”

“I dinna understand.”

“I dinna regret checking on the battered woman or marrying my love, but I canna delay retrieving Connor any longer.”

“Connor? He be coming for Kasey in Hunter’s stead?”

He massaged his temples. “Ye could say such.”

“What in blazes has taken so long? She believes Hunter has forsaken her.”

“It be a long story. I will explain when I return.”

“Ye must take me with ye.”

“The journey be too difficult.”

“I have endured much more than a hard ride for my lady.” The anger that flashed in his eyes made her wish she could pull back her words. “Will Connor bring ye with him?”

“Nay. One of us must remain at our holding.”

She shook her head. “I must convince him to bring ye along.”

“Why?”

“I will explain later.” She rolled over and grabbed her chemise from the floor. “Prepare the horses whilst I dress. And be quick aboot it.”

Chapter Eleven

The journey back to the Mackintosh manor took a day longer than Gavin hoped. Mayhap he should have ignored Evonne’s argument and left her in the MacDonnell’s care. But something in her unspoken words raised his hackles, and he hoped to pry the truth from her.

To set her at ease, the first day he spoke of his family, including how and why Connor came to be known as “Hunter.” He also talked of his service, the king’s efforts to gain Kasey’s release, and Dillon’s access to the Cameron holding. She assured him of his younger brother’s health.

The second day his wife spoke little of her own trials, but dwelled on Kasey’s well-being. Evonne told him that the lady worked too much, ate too little, and slept even less. Again her unspoken words screamed.

By the third day, their wills clashed. Gavin wanted to slow their pace. Evonne pleaded with him to ride harder. He feared the strain would delay her recovery. She reminded him of her strength. He called a halt when dusk hid the trail. After another argument, his common sense ceded to her will.

Dawn broke just before they crested the hills surrounding the Mackintosh lands. Gavin reined the horse to a stop when she gasped. “What say ye?”

“This holding be more fortified than Inverness. Do ye think the laird will let us pass?”

Gavin chuckled. “Welcome home, wife.”

“This be yer home?”

“Our home.” He looked at the dark stone fortress as if seeing it for the first time. “It be quite foreboding, aye?”

“Nay, husband. It looks secure.” She laid her hand on his cheek. “Before we enter I have a request.”

He raised a brow.

“Promise ye will go with yer brother.”

“I burn to avenge the wrongs ye have suffered.” He kissed her palm. “But with Dillon’s fate already in the hands of the enemy, I must stay, ready to step up if aught happens to Connor.”

“Mayhap he should return only to retrieve his brother.” She looked away.

“I tire of yer half truths. Explain yerself. Now!”

“Kasey might die afore yer brothers bring her to ye.” Tears brimmed her eyes.

He craved to reach out, to comfort her. “What has caused this dire prediction?”

She shook her head. “Ye asked me to have faith in ye. I now ask yer trust.”

Intending to soothe her, he kissed her, but his ardor, ever aroused in Evonne’s presence, took control. Pulling away took all his strength. He raised her chin and waited for her to shake the effects. When she finally raised her passion-clouded eyes to his, he nodded. Somehow he would convince Connor.

Their approach had gone unnoticed by none. The din must have alerted Connor, who awaited their arrival on the stone steps.

Evonne’s adoring smile irked Gavin. He pinched her bottom.

She grinned at him, then turned doe eyes back to Connor.

He pinched her again. “I care not for the way ye eye my brother.”

She sighed. “He be perfect.”

“For whom?”

“Since I have last seen him, his chest has broadened. And look at the way the seams of his sleeves strain to contain his arms.”

“Need I remind ye? Ye married me.”

“Och, dinna be a fool!” She smacked his shoulder. “I be thinking only of Kasey. If anyone can remove her from Cameron clutches, he can.”

Gavin slid Evonne onto the saddle, dismounted, and then gathered her into his arms. He approached the steps and bowed to Connor. “Kindly step away. I wish to deposit my wife by the hearth.”

Connor turned and opened the door, then pulled it closed. “Yer wife? Ye have much to tell me, brother.”

“The door if ye please?”

Connor pushed it open, and Gavin slid in before he could close it again. He placed Evonne in a cushioned chair, propped her legs on a stool, and covered them with his cloak.

As recognition dawned, Connor frowned. “I see fate has reunited ye with yer woman. Might yer return mean my opportunity lies at hand?”

“I truly hope so, brother.”

Connor sighed. “Forgive me, Gavin. Yer joy be my joy. She be willing to pledge her fealty to me now?”

“Ye have retaken the title?”

Connor nodded. “Father insisted. He feels the status will bode favorably on the quest’s outcome.”

Evonne cleared her throat. “Laird Mackintosh. If ye will forgive me for not kneeling, I shall pledge my oath.”

“Be ye too good to show proper respect?”

“Milord, there be much ye dinna ken.” Gavin told him all that occurred since he and Dillon had left Inverness.

Connor’s gaze softened. “I assume ye will have no misgivings about curtsying once yer legs heal.”

“Aye, Laird Mackintosh. I mean nay. Och,” Evonne inhaled. “I be honored to pledge my loyalty to ye now.”

Gavin stood by her side while she gave a most heartfelt oath.

Connor nodded and turned to his brother. “Take yer wife abovestairs. We leave immediately.”

****

In order to keep a semblance of sanity, Kasey imagined she searched the forest for plump berries as she scrubbed the floors. She prepared a grand feast for her king instead of her laird’s simple fare. She danced at a grand ball in a stunning kirtle rather than dusting the keep in her rags.

Before that fateful summer at Inverness, she had led a pampered life. Though her laird had often lectured her about earning her keep, he had never treated her as a servant. She much preferred his occasional slap to the punishment he and Randall now bestowed.

Alas, she relied upon the memory of the waterfall most often. She recalled the resilience of the rushes at the cascade’s base when she needed strength and endurance. The multitude of animals and plants that increased each year gave her hope in life’s ability to replenish. The serenity brought forth by the splendid panorama gave her peace.

The falls also reminded her of her old self. How often had she been told her smile could dry rain before it hit the ground? Now it made fewer appearances than the sun in this dreary climate. Dread for drudgery replaced her ardor for arising each morn. Fear tempered every move.

She refused to succumb to the despair that battled to enshroud her. They might beat her, but they would never defeat her. Every dog had its day. Nay. Every heart had its day and someday, somehow hers would also.

But first she needed to heal. Her wounds required tending, but cures she once recalled instantly now deserted her. She thanked Broderick’s memory for teaching her how to encode her notes. If only she could remember the key.

Her spirit’s need to mend concerned her more. She, alone, could not heal her mind and heart.

In her last encounter with Hunter, he claimed he would return for her, that she belonged by his side. Nigh on three years had passed since his declarations without word or attempt to see his promise true.

He could have done naught to reunite them before he had completed his service to the king’s guard. But that ended at the same time as Randall’s. Each passing day hope faded.

She must have been dim-witted to believe he would rescue her. No longer a trusting fool, she would never again truly care for another. All those she had treasured had met ghastly ends, abandoned her, or turned on her. Love brought naught but pain.

As she dumped a pail of dirty water outside the kitchen door, her vision darkened. Her heart pounded, her breath quickened. The light at the end of the cave had grown enough to see the moisture on the walls. Crimson dripped from the ceiling. Red rivulets pooled at her booted feet. Fear coursed down her spine as she ran toward a forest. Light glinted off the dagger she flung toward a trunk. The hair on her arms stood on end as she leapt over fallen logs. A branch reached out and entangled her. She reached down, grabbed her other dagger, and cut its hold. Sap spattered her face, her kirtle. She ran into a rank-smelling bush and struggled against the nettles that clamped her arms.

“The laird has summoned ye. However, if ye be eager to be close to me, mayhap I could persuade him to give us a few hours alone.”

The vision faded, replaced by a breathing nightmare. “I would rather die.”

“So be it!” Randall dragged her toward the great hall.

She offered no resistance although she could not bear another beating. Along the way she searched her mind, but could find no reason for the laird to seek her presence. She had not used her healing skills since she aided the lad who shot the arrow over the keep’s wall. She had not looked anyone in the eye. She had not lapsed in her chores. Perhaps her laird had added breathing to his list.

Her laird alone waited in the great hall. No witnesses to heighten her humiliation or heed the warning. She wrenched her arm from Randall’s grasp. Careful to keep her gaze to the floor, she curtsied. “Milord.”

“On the morrow, ye will be escorted to the Grant holding. Upon yer arrival, ye will become the fifth Lady Grant.”

Fear knotted her stomach. Her laird had just handed her a death sentence. No one, not even Hunter, could save her now.

****

Waiting was hell. Connor and his men rode for two days straight. After they arrived outside the Cameron holding, they wasted four days watching the grass grow. For the first time in nearly three summers, she sat within his reach, and he could do naught but wait.

He stripped bark from a branch, though he wished he skinned Randall. Needing to control his anger lest he ruin their plan, he exhaled slowly.

After he sheathed the dirk, he studied his men. Every one of his warriors had begged to join the quest, but he left behind those who thirsted for blood. Those he chose understood their limitations and would act accordingly.

Though Gavin met the requirements, Connor would have preferred to leave him home. The king would be displeased to learn the plan commenced without an emissary’s escort. He would be furious if he learned every heir stood within harm’s reach.

His father had provided a potentially acceptable resolution. Should Connor, Gavin, or Dillon meet his end, the surviving brothers would quit the battle and return home posthaste. A full contingent of Mackintoshes would then avenge the death.

The day Gavin returned Evonne had been eager to share information regarding Cameron affairs, but had been reticent to discuss Lady Kasey. Nothing he said could sway her to reveal more than the lady lived. She then had the arrogance to order Gavin’s presence on the venture.

Connor had crossed his arms and scowled, but she had not cowered. She responded with a litany of Gavin’s attributes, repeatedly stressing his skill with healing.

At first Connor thought her gratitude for Gavin’s care caused the repetition, but the more often she said it, the higher his concern for Kasey’s welfare grew. He asked Evonne if Lady Kasey be in need of tending. The answers she withheld convinced him.

Gavin jabbed Connor’s ribs and nodded toward the road. He pushed aside branches that blocked their view. Grant soldiers escorted a cart toward the Cameron holding. Six riderless horses led by another Grant followed.

Gavin raised his brows.

Connor shook his head. The cart did not hold the treasure they sought. He could not risk disclosing their presence for mere trinkets.

A short while later, the Grants emerged without the cart or mounts and headed back the way they came. Connor considered taking them captive and beating details out of them, but to protect his presence, he would have to kill them afterward. Since he wanted no quarrel with the Grants, he could not justify the plan. Instead, he ordered his men to keep watch on the road and report any movement.

Gavin followed him back to their camp. “Mayhap the Camerons bartered with the Grants.”

“The Cameron would rather drink his ale than trade it, and he has naught else to trade.” Connor furrowed his brow. “Coins jingled when the cart hit a hole in the road. Gold. Horses. It appeared to be a dowry, but Cameron has no sons, and Grant has no daughters.”

Gavin’s eyes widened. “The Cameron be wiser than to risk such blatant disobedience.”

“He has thus far made a game of challenging the king. If the greedy bastard could profit...” Connor’s chest tightened. “On the morrow ye and Malcolm will watch that road from first light. Should aught unusual occur I shall know of it.”

****

Railing at life’s injustice, Kasey tossed and turned for hours. Her heart belonged to one man, yet her hand had been pledged to another—a murderer. Though she could not prove the charge, how else might four wives have died in as many years?

And none had produced a child despite the laird’s obsession for an heir. He either had the worst choice in women, or, more likely, the failure to sire belonged to him.

The fact that he had never beaten them offered little solace. By harvest time her body would lie buried next to theirs. She would never choose death over life, but it offered a respite from the heartache.

Her mother’s death had opened an abyss. She still felt Brietta’s presence, but she missed her smile and her touch. Evonne’s death had widened the chasm. Kasey longed for the days when her duties consisted of little more than gossiping with her friend.