Keeper of my Heart (16 page)

“I don’t know,” Roderick answered, “but someone—whether a MacAlister or a Cochran or even a MacBride, is intent on causing trouble and would rather see our two clans at war with each other.” Roderick raked his fingers through his hair and breathed a heavy sigh. “Only I still canna find the reason why.”

“Can’t you?” Iain said softly, the coldness in his voice sending a chill down her spine. “Between us we control every major trade route into England. Whoever is doing this wants to control all the land held by the MacAlisters and the Cochrans. Greed and power are two compelling incentives.”

“Then I pray we find out who is behind the raids before someone is seriously injured,” Roderick said, rising to his feet. “So far, the only casualties have been a few fields of wheat and a barn or two that can be rebuilt.”

Iain looked off into the distance as if the weight of his thoughts was indeed a heavy burden to shoulder. He rubbed his fingers against his temples on either side of his head as if rubbing away a great pain, then gritted his teeth and turned around. “Unless I am mistaken,” he said, focusing again on his warriors, “it will na be long before the attacks carry more devastating consequences.”

Iain raked his fingers through his hair and looked up, his gaze falling on her. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Good day, milady,” he said, holding out his hand to her. She walked across the rushes to meet him.

“Post double the men to guard our borders,” Iain said to Roderick in dismissal. “We must avoid trouble at all cost.”

“Very good,” Roderick answered, nodding in acquiescence. He graced her with an open smile. “Good day to you, milady,” he said, walking toward the door with Donald and Lochlan behind him.

“Roderick,” Iain hollered just before his brother left the room.

“Aye.”

“Where is your MacAlister brooch? Why are you na wearing it?”

Roderick clamped his hand over his shoulder and looked down at the plain metal ornament pinning his MacAlister plaid. “I lost it. It happened while you were gone.”

Iain removed the pin from his plaid and handed it to Roderick. “Go to Henry and have him make you one to match mine. I know it will na have the same meaning as the one Father gave you, but you canna go without the MacAlister symbol. It is your heritage.”

Roderick took the brooch from Iain’s hand and smiled. “I have missed wearing it. I will make sure he copies your brooch exactly.”

Rodrick turned to the door and Donald and Lochlan followed him out of the room. “Have you seen your home, milady?” Iain asked when they were alone.

“Most of it, aye.” She studied his face. The deep blue of his eyes lacked the luster she was used to seeing. His sun-bronzed complexion seemed pale.

“And are you pleased?”

“I could na dream of a home more perfect.” She looked at him closer. “Is something wrong, Iain? Do you feel a’right?”

He twined his fingers through hers and held her hand. “I am fine. Do na worry. Is there more you would like to see?”

“It can wait until tomorrow. I would rather be with you.”

“I am glad. I need you to walk with me.”

“Where do you need to go?”

“I must visit the families of the four warriors who were with me the day I went to get you. Their families need to know their murderers will na go unpunished.”

“Do you know who attacked you?”

“Not yet. But I will. I have already sent Charles and Dunlaf to where it happened. They are both cunning warriors and vowed they would na come back until they had some information that would lead us to the traitors.”

“Traitors?”

“Aye. I am convinced the attack was intentional. Thieves would have taken the pouch of coins I carried and my MacAlister brooch. But both were still on me when you found me. Whoever is responsible wanted the MacAlister laird dead.”

“Perhaps it was my father,” she said, looking down at the rushes on the floor.

“Nay. The land he would get from our marriage was too important to him. He would not have risked losing it before the wedding.”

She nodded in agreement then followed when he looped her arm through his. She walked with him out into the warm, late spring sunshine, still wishing her gift did not give her such obvious warnings when Roderick was near.

“How have you come to be without Kenneth at your side?” he asked, looking around as if he needed to make sure they were alone.

He placed his arms around her shoulder and she tried to ignore the warmth that spread through her body. “He left me when I came to the keep to see you. Perhaps he has a misplaced notion that I do na need protection when I am with you.”

He halted. “Why would he think you needed protection among the MacAlisters, even if I were na close? Does he na think you are safe here?”

The serious look on his face caused the words to lodge in her throat.

“Did your father order him to protect you?”

Such a thought made her laugh. “Nay. Kenneth is not a MacBride, but a Buchanan. My mother’s laird sent him to watch over my mother while she lived, and he stayed after her death.”

“To protect you?”

She hesitated.
Nay. To protect the gift. “
To…be with me.”

“And he feels he must stay even though you are my wife and I have promised to protect you?”

His brows raised in question as he waited for her to answer. How could she explain Kenneth’s vow to protect the gift? How could she expect her husband to understand that it was impossible for Kenneth to leave until he was sure she would not be in danger if Iain ever found out about the gift? “I…I—”

“Oh, milady. Take care!”  An excited voice echoed between the curtain walls, crying out a desperate warning. “Robin! Nay!”

The warning came too late. A force as solid as a small boulder slammed against the back of her legs, throwing her forward. Her legs buckled beneath her and her arms flailed in the air, but there was nothing solid onto which to grasp. Luckily Iain was there to catch her before she fell to the ground.

Màiri clung to Iain’s shirt and looked down to see the cause of the near disaster. Sprawled at her feet lay the most adorable little lad on which she’d ever laid eyes. He could not have been more than four summers, with thick curly hair the color of sun-ripened wheat and more freckles splattered across his nose and rosy-red cheeks than she thought it was possible to put there.

He lifted his smudged face and stared at her with a rounded
O
of his tiny mouth and wide-open gaze of sky blue eyes as big as the cook’s honeyed-buns she’d eaten this morning. The startled expression on his darling face tugged at her heart. She moved to pick him up, but Iain held her steady.

With one arm around her shoulder and his other arm anchored at her waist, Iain braced his legs wide and stood as battle-ready as if he faced an army of mighty warriors instead of one tiny little boy. “Roby MacAlister,” he bellowed in the fiercest voice she’d ever heard him use. “Is that you in the dirt at my feet?”

Màiri punched Iain in the ribs, trying to get him to soften his tone.

“Aye, milord,” a little voice answered timidly. “I’m the only one that looks like me.”

Màiri wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. Behind the little boy, a woman, obviously his mother, stood with her hands clamped over her mouth and a look of terror on her face.

“What were you doing that you nearly trampled us over?” Iain demanded in his harsh tone.

Roby scrambled to his feet and pointed one little pudgy finger in the air. “I was chasing a butterfly, laird. An’ I almost had him.”

The pleased look on Roby’s face indicated such a near-wonderful accomplishment that it nearly melted her heart. Oh, what she wouldn’t have given to have chased butterflies when she was growing up.

“Do you know who you ran into?” Iain said, his tone still loud and harsh.

Roby glanced at Màiri for the first time. Before, only the laird claimed his attention. She imagined that to a very small little boy, his laird seemed a most impressive giant.

“Are you the laird’s new lady?”

“Aye, I am,” Màiri answered.

Roby shuffled his feet for a moment, then looked her in the eyes. “You’re pretty.”

“Thank you, Roby,” she said, feeling her cheeks turn warm.

“My mom and dad are both real glad you’re here. I heard ’em say so.”

“Robin, mind your tongue,” his mother warned, taking his hand and pulling him up against her. “Now, apologize to the mistress this very minute and tell her you will be more careful from now on.”

“I’m sorry, mistress. I didn’t mean to run into you like that. I should a been watching more closer, but you got in my way.”

“I’m so very sorry,” Màiri apologized through a giggle, while Roby’s mother shook her head behind her hands. Iain’s chest rumbled beside her and Màiri knew it was too late for him to pretend he was angry. “If I would have known you were behind me, I would most certainly have moved,” she said as sincerely as she could through her laughter.

A smile lit his face as if he was more than happy to accept her apology.

“Do you have any little boys I can play with?” he asked hopefully.

“Robin,” his mother warned.

Iain could no longer hide his humor and laughed loud enough so she could hear. She punched him in the ribs again. “Nay.”

“But you will, someday?”

“Perhaps,” she answered, her cheeks growing warmer.

“Tomorrow?”

“You’ve said more than enough, Robin,” his mother said taking him by the hand. “It’s time we went home. Tell the mistress good day.”

“Good day, mistress. I’m real glad I met you.”

“It was very nice to meet you, too,” she said, holding out her hand. He took it, not bothering to wipe the dust from his fingers before he held her hand. Something warm burst within her and she knelt down and gave the little boy a big hug. “I hope you find your butterfly,” she whispered, tousling his blond hair.

“I will. Maybe tomorrow.”

“I’m so sorry, mistress,” Roby’s mother said, holding her son’s hand.

“It’s all right, uh. . .”

“Magda. My name’s Magda.”

“It’s all right, Magda. There was no harm done.”

The woman nodded in thanks and turned away. They had only taken a few steps before Roby turned back. “Are you mad at me, mistress?” he asked, looking at her with such an innocent expression.

Màiri smiled. “Nay. I’m na mad.”

“My mother is,” he said in a loud whisper. “She only calls me Robin when she’s mad at me.”

Roby’s mother shook her head and took him away with a firm hand and a warning tone to her voice while Iain laughed out loud. “You have my young lads falling at your feet already, wife. I think it may be wise to keep a better watch over you.”

Màiri smiled and stepped closer into Iain’s warm body. Yes, life here could be perfect.

“Was na little Roby adorable?” she said on a sigh.

“Aye. As adorable as the sons you will give me some day.”

A permanent smile lit her face as they walked through the outer bailey and over the wooden drawbridge.

Yes, life here would be perfect.

Iain’s hand rested possessively over her shoulder as they walked down the lane that led to the cottage of the first slain warrior’s family he would visit. She could tell how much he dreaded this part of his duty as laird and she relished it no more than he.

As they went from one grieving family to the next, she noticed the signs of sadness that darkened his eyes and lines that deepened on his forehead. She breathed a sigh of relief when they ended their final visit.

“I should na have taken you with me,” he said as they walked away from the last cottage. “I should na have put you through such unpleasantness.”

She nestled his hand in both of hers and held it to her breast. “My place is at your side, Iain. For the good as well as the bad. There is na other place where I should be.”

Iain stopped and lifted her chin with his finger, then leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips. “I think we should rest a bit before going back,” he said, leading her across a meadow turning lush and green with heather and clover, then through a small copse of thick shade trees.

“I would like that,” she said, listening to the faint bubbling of a small stream.

“I know just the place where we can be alone.”

When they reached a secluded spot near the stream, Iain took her in his arms and pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her until she could not breathe. Then he lowered her to the ground and made slow, deliberate love to her while the earth moved beneath them and the heavens spun above,

Yes. Life here was perfect.

Màiri didn’t even try to wipe the smile of contentment from her face as she skipped down the stone steps on her way to the great hall. It had been a month and more since she’d wed the MacAlister laird, and she’d never been happier.

Every day was better than the one before. She saw to the running of her home, planned the meals, oversaw the making of the candles and the soap and mead and ale. She helped with the planting of the garden, sewed alongside the MacAlister women as they made clothes for their laird, then worked with them on the tapestries that would adorn the walls of the hall.