Keeper of my Heart (11 page)

“And this is Ruari, the baby of the family and as you can see, the runt as well.”

Both of Donald’s other sons roared with laughter as Ruari’s cheeks turned a dark shade. The youngest brother sat even taller than Lochlan and Conan and boasted shoulders almost as broad as Iain’s. He was blond-haired with startling blue eyes that glimmered the same as his brothers and she couldn’t help but like him. He raised his hand as had his brothers, and swore his fealty.

“Is Roderick here?” Iain asked looking at the crowd of MacAlister’s streaming across the drawbridge coming to meet their laird.

“Nay. He and some of the men have gone hunting. They should be back before nightfall.”

Iain nodded and started to say more, but the pandemonium building around him prevented him from being heard. Men, and now even some women and children joined them, dancing and shouting and circling the horses in wild celebration. Iain greeted them with a raised wave of his hand and a broad smile while their shouts of joy erupted into a cacophony of noise and elation. The horses skittered nervously as the MacAlisters pushed from every side to greet their laird and wish him well.

Màiri clung to her saddle as Kenneth reached for the reins to keep her close. The reassuring smile on his face calmed her a little, but her heart still pounded in her breast. She was not used to being in such a crowd of people and even less accustomed to people paying her any attention. Such an outpouring was so foreign. Not only was everyone jubilant to have their laird back safe, but it was as if they were happy he had brought her with him, too.

In a frenzy to get closer to their laird, the crush of MacAlisters pushed their way between her and Iain. The gap separating them widened as more people joined the throng to extend their well-wishes. They smiled at her, and greeted her, and welcomed her without question. Her heart swelled with happiness.

Is this what it was like to be accepted?

They gradually made their way to the castle, the crowd growing larger with each step. Somehow, Lochlan and Rauri found their way to her side, escorting her and Kenneth up the steep rise to where MacAlister Castle stood high on a hill. Iain rode ahead of them, the proud lift of his head and the indomitable expanse of his broad shoulders the focal point that drew her attention. He appeared every inch the laird.

The massive stone fortress seemed nearly invincible in the sunlight, beckoning her with the same warmth she’d sensed from all the MacAlisters walking along beside her. She gave her gift free rein and was surprised when her powers came back to her absent of the confining fear she’d expected.

She could not make sense of the euphoria building within her. The blood pounded in her head as Iain’s people led her mare across the wooden drawbridge and through the open gateway. Everything was too welcoming, too inviting. She was not used to such warmth, such acceptance. She was not used to feeling such inclusion. Everywhere she looked she saw a smiling face and heard a friendly word. It was so different than her father’s castle.

When they reached the front of the keep, Iain jumped from his black steed and took the steps two at a time. An even larger crowd awaited them in the inner bailey, shouting and cheering and celebrating the news of their laird’s return. The roar was deafening as he turned to face them. He held up his hands for silence.

“I have returned,” he announced when he could be heard, “and I have brought with me my wife.” An even more enthusiastic roar went up and he held out his hand for Màiri to join him. Lochlan and Rauri escorted her to the top of the steps and when Iain presented her to his people, another exuberant shout echoed off the curtain walls.

As if someone gave a signal, the crowd quieted. Donald walked to the top of the stairs beside Iain and drew his sword. Each MacAlister warrior also raised his sword high and placed his hand over his heart while Donald said the words that promised her their fealty. When he finished, a wildly enthusiastic cheer echoed from the curtain walls, louder than the shouts before it. Màiri had never heard anything like it. She thought her heart would burst inside her.

She looked out into the crowd of people. Tears of joy streamed down the cheeks of men and women alike. Smiles of excitement shone bright on every face, laughter and joviality filling the air. Her gift told her she’d married a laird well-loved by his people. Her gift told her each MacAlister accepted her without question, without hesitation.

Her gift told her she belonged.

They needed to know nothing more than that their laird had chosen her as his wife and mistress. Even though her gift failed her where her husband was concerned, it did not fail her with his people.

She clenched her hands at her side and took in deep, steadying breaths. She’d always dreamed of a home where she would be loved and accepted. Was it possible she had found such a place?

For the first time in her life, she could imagine holding happiness within her grasp.

“Do na let their exuberance frighten you, lass. It is na every day someone they know comes back from the dead.”

“You are well loved, laird MacAlister. At least they are rejoicing you are still alive. The MacBrides would na be nearly so happy to find their laird had come back from the dead.”

Màiri noticed the frown that covered his face, but did not concentrate on it. Instead, her gaze moved to the far side of the castle where a small, withered old crone stood by herself in the corner. No one stood near her. “Who is that woman standing by herself?” she said, feeling the pull the woman had on her.

Iain followed her gaze and when he saw who she meant his back stiffened in warning. “Forget you saw her. You are never to go near her.”

The harshness she heard in his voice startled her. She looked again toward the corner where the woman had been but the spot was empty. As the impassioned crowd had cheered their laird and welcomed their new mistress, the old woman had turned her back and walked away. Màiri stared after her until she was out of sight. Even when she was gone, there remained behind a sadness Màiri could not explain. And a connection between them that puzzled her.

Her gift revealed the old woman’s loneliness and hurt, begging to be understood. More importantly, it revealed a wrong pleading to be forgiven.

She pushed aside the heaviness that was often a part of her gift and looked out over the throng of MacAlisters rejoicing the events of this day. If she wanted to be a part of them, she could never reveal her gift. No matter how real the pain or suffering around her, she could not acknowledge it.

Never before had she believed it was possible to have the kind of life she saw around her. Perhaps it was not. But she would not live her life as her mother had.

From this day on, she would be the perfect wife for Iain, and the perfect mistress to his people. She would do whatever it took to avoid the hell she and her mother had endured from the moment her father had discovered their gifts.

She would make a place here for herself. Without her gift.

Màiri reveled in her burgeoning vision, certain it was possible to be a part of her husband’s world, positive she could have a life different than her mother’s.

She scanned the crowd. They would be her family now. She lifted her gaze to the man standing beside her. He would be her protector. The overwhelming peace that settled over her stole the breath from her body.

“Tonight we will have a celebration,” Iain said to the crowd and there was another loud cheer. “There will be food and drink and music and laughter. We will welcome your mistress properly and show her how glad we are she is now one of us.”

One of us.

While the crowd still cheered, Iain turned her toward him and kissed her. The roar echoing from the curtain wall nearly deafened her. “Welcome home, my Mairi,” he said as he released her.

The cheers still echoed in her head. A liquid heat surged through every inch of her.

Had her mother experienced this same elation when her father first presented her to the MacBrides? Before he found out about her gift?

With his hand against the small of her back, Iain led her through the heavy oak door to the keep. He paused in the large entryway.

Wide, stone steps led upward from the right side of the room. “Our rooms are at the top of the stairs,”

Màiri looked up, her gift refusing to tell if her life in the MacAlister’s keep would be a haven brimming with happiness, or a prison entombing her in loneliness and hatred.

He put his arm around her shoulder. “First, though, I will show you the hall.”

They stepped across the stone entryway and entered through a wide opening that took them to the great hall. The room was spacious and efficient, nearly twice as large as her father’s, with hundreds of torches hanging at close intervals to brighten the room. Beautiful tapestries decorated the walls, each depicting a part of MacAlister history.

On either side of the large room a fire burned in each of two mammoth hearths, creating a welcoming warmth that drew her forward. Clean and fragrant rushes covered the floor, with bits of heather sprinkled about to make the room smell pleasant. Two elaborately carved armed chairs sat on the raised dais, waiting for the MacAlister laird and his mistress to take their rightful places.

Iain led her across the room, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back. She wished he would not touch her so. It was difficult to keep her thoughts when he held her near.

“What do you think, mistress?” he asked.

“Your keep is magnificent. You should be proud.”

“The keep is yours to care for and make our home. The castle is mine so I can protect the home you will make for us and our children.”

Màiri lowered her gaze, her cheeks burning. She’d always dreamed of such a life, and until now, thought it had been impossible for her. Just as it had been impossible for her mother.

A small niggling of something she could not explain crept through her. At first she couldn’t begin to guess what it might be, then she concentrated on it until she could peel away the layers covering it and expose it.

Hope.

Could it be that there was a way to live a normal life among people who could accept her, and have a husband to care for her, and children to love her?

Màiri looked across the room. Kenneth stood against the wall next to Lochlan and Ruari with his legs braced and his arms folded across his chest. His concentrated expression told her he hadn’t come to a conclusion about her being here.

“Does your arm still pain you?” Iain asked, pulling her back from her dreams.

Màiri lifted her fingers from her arm she’d been absently rubbing and shook her head. “Nay. It is fine.”

“You will rest before the celebration. It has been a long day and you’re probably tired. I’ll have a tray sent up for you.”

He rose from his chair and helped her to her feet. The place where he touched her burned as if her flesh were on fire.

“This will be your home for all time, Màiri,” he said, rubbing the back of his fingers against her cheek. “The MacAlisters will never give you cause to regret you came here.”

Màiri swallowed past the lump in her throat. Everything she’d always dreamed of having seemed more and more within her grasp. All she had to do was… Surely it would not be that impossible.

“Come,” he said, leading her across the great hall. “I will introduce you to Lochlan’s wife, Janet. She’ll be your ladies maid after she is delivered of their babe. Janet, are you about?”

A pretty lass with hair more red than brown and deep blue eyes stepped out from behind the doorway and came forward to greet them. One look at Janet’s swollen belly told her there would be a babe shortly. Màiri met her open smile with one of her own and felt an instant liking toward the girl.

Janet bowed clumsily. “Welcome, mistress,” she said, holding her back when she straightened. “I am so glad you’re here.”

“Thank you, Janet. I am glad to be here. Is this your first babe?”

Janet touched her stomach. “Aye. My mother tells me it will still be a while, but I do na think it will be all that long. Least ways, I pray it will na. I only want to have it over.”

Màiri smiled, thinking that it was normal for most women to look forward to having it over in the end. But what she sensed more than Janet’s discomfort was her fear. Her gift told her the girl was frightened to death.

Màiri tried to ignore her gift, but in the end couldn’t help herself. She had to ease the girl’s fears if she could. She held Janet’s hand for a moment and felt a rush of relief. Her gift could not tell if it would be a boy or a girl, but she knew all was well.

“Do na worry, Janet,” she said softly. “You have nothing to fear. The babe growing inside you is strong and healthy.”

The look on Janet’s face lightened with relief. “Oh, thank you, mistress. My mother thinks I’m silly for worrying so but I am frightened. I do na think I could bear it if something happened to the babe.”

“Do na worry. Nothing will happen.”

“Bless you, mistress. You must have seen my thoughts for you knew just the right words to say.”

Màiri was consumed by a sense of wariness. She should not have used her gift. How did she ever expect to control its powers if she let what she could
see
have free rein every time a question arose? She had to learn to ignore it.