‘And what will you do then?’
She stared down at the filled tins, and then turning, placed them on the long-handled paddle and slid them into the oven. She didn’t know what she’d do to keep herself busy, but one thing was for certain. She wouldn’t be brewing any ale. She couldn’t. Not yet. The ale shed held too many recent memories. Precious memories. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready to brew there again.
‘Is it very late?’ She washed the dough from her hands in the pail of water.
‘More’s the like it’s very early. The sun will be rising soon.’ Moira set her candle down on the corner of the long trestle and walked around to where Keila stood drying her hands. ‘Whatever the time, I’m here to listen, if you care to talk.’
Keila pressed her lips together and looked at her friend. ‘My thanks, Moira.’ She turned away and peered down into the wooden bowl. ‘But I don’t think I’m ready.’
Moira placed her hand on Keila’s arm. ‘I understand, lass.’ She squeezed gently. ‘You know I do. But I am here when you are ready.’
Keila looked at her companion, the friend she was blessed to have. The woman who had chosen to care for her over Euphemia, Countess of Ross. ‘Why did I never meet Lady Ross?’
Moira gave her a curious look. ‘You’ve never asked me that before.’
It was something Keila had always wanted to know, but having been dispatched to the next relatives every two years, she hadn’t wanted to hear she was a promise made to a dying woman and nothing more.
‘Are you certain you want to hear about it now?’
With the sting of sending Adair away numbing her heart, she was ready to hear anything, no matter how upsetting. ‘Aye.’ But still, she braced herself for the worse.
‘Come, lass.’ Moira pulled out a wooden stool each from beneath the trestle. ‘Sit.’ Before Moira found her own seat, she took two cups from the shelf behind her and filled them from the jug of ale on the table.
Keila sipped from her cup as Moira sat beside her.
‘I doubt you know, but Lady Ross wed twice. Both marriages were part of her duty.’ Moira paused to peer inside her cup and Keila wondered if Lady Ross’s arranged marriages added to her friend’s aversion to them. ‘You were born three months before she married her second husband, the Wolf of Badenoch.’
Keila leaned back in surprise. ‘The Wolf?’
Moira’s lips thinned. ‘It wasn’t his birth name, but rather the name he earned.’ Moira drank from her cup and set it down. ‘Lady Ross had a strength, a force of will like nae other I’d known. But she’d lost her first husband, then one of her maid’s, your mother, and was to wed again, all within a short amount of time, but still,’ Moira looked up and smiled at Keila. ‘She worried for you.’ She reached across and laid her palm over Keila’s hand.
‘For certain she’d spoken words promising your mother she would ensure you were safe and well, but she took a liking to you that came from the heart. She only had one child, a son to her first husband, and anyone who saw her holding you could see she loved you like the daughter she never had.’
Warmth stirred deep inside Keila, proving she could still feel something.
Moira’s smile deepened then fell. ‘But we’d heard things, unsettling things, about the brutality of the man she was to marry next. Lady Ross feared that once they were wed, should things not go well between them, the Wolf might use her fondness for you as a weapon against her.’ Moira continued with a glint of pride in her eyes. ‘Lady Ross was also a clever woman and she refused to wed the Wolf until he declared Drummin House as yours. With all he was set to gain through his marriage to Lady Ross, one house in Drummin would make little difference, but still, as you know, there was one stipulation. The day you marry, Drummin House will revert back to the Wolf.
‘As you also know, to fulfil her promise to your mother, she then sent you to live with each of your father’s kin to the west, so that you might learn about your sire from them.’ Keila vaguely remembered her father’s kin, but she could easily recall the many different things she’d learned from each of them.
‘And then she wed the Wolf.’ Moira’s hand tightened over hers. ‘News of his ruthless and lawless ways spread far and wide. He sacked and burned Elgin and its cathedral and was excommunicated by the church.’
Moira frowned. ‘I visited Lady Ross every second summer at Dingwall to let her know how you were getting on. But on my last visit, days before your tenth summer, Lady Ross looked …’ she slowly shook her head. ‘She looked tired. She was weary of her husband’s infidelities and the string of illegitimate children that followed. She’d asked the church for a divorce.’
Moira straightened and met Keila’s gaze. ‘She was desperate to reveal her success at appealing to the Avignon papal court for a divorce, but she wanted you securely ensconced in Drummin House first. And so you were.’ Moira lifted and held her hand. ‘But know this, Keila. Lady Ross would have risked her own life to see you, but she refused to risk yours.’
Keila’s vision blurred as she stared at Moira. ‘I didn’t know,’ she said past the lump fast filling her throat.
‘You weren’t meant to, lass.’
A tear fell onto Keila’s cheek, swiftly followed by another. ‘Oh God.’ Keila fell into Moira’s open arms and wept. ‘I always thought I was a burden and nae one cared but you.’ She squeezed her eyes shut. ‘Now I know they cared too much.’
Keila remained in Moira’s arms and let her tears run dry. She cried for the Lady Ross and for everything she had done for Keila. She cried for the mother and father she’d never known and the kin she’d briefly met. She cried for the woman holding her and she cried for the loss of Adair.
She briefly tightened her hold about Moira, and straightening, dashed the moisture from her cheeks and peered into the amber eyes of the woman who had sacrificed so much for her. ‘Thank you, for everything, Moira.’ She placed a soft kiss on Moira’s tear-glistened cheek. ‘I will be in my room should you need me.’
‘We’ll talk more, once you’ve rested, lass.’
Keila climbed the stairs to her room and washed her face with cold water and sat on her bed. Though the circumstances were very different, hearing everything Lady Ross had done for her helped her understand her choice to send Adair away. She hadn’t wanted to, but for his safety, she’d had to. Her heart clenched at the memory of his anger and confusion, but she now realised if she’d told him her fears and hadn’t pretended she held no interest in him, felt nothing for him, then he would never have left. He would have stayed and protected her with his life.
A rush of longing speared her heart. She wanted Adair back, here, now, in her arms, in her life. Forever. She crossed her arms over her chest to tame the yearning, to hold the hurt inside. A single tear splashed her cheek, when she’d thought she’d spent them all. She brushed it away. She’d done what she’d had to and now must go on with her life.
The sound of hoof beats below outside her window had her holding her breath. Had Leith returned with more distressing news? As she rose to her feet, she couldn’t stop her foolish heart from quickening at the thought that Adair had come back to her.
***
At the sight of Drummin House, Adair inhaled a long breath. Riding throughout the night had been tedious and slow at times, for despite the half-moon’s glow, the dark had been complete in certain places and he couldn’t risk injuring Demon. But he was almost there.
He breathed another full breath and captured it at the sight of a woman standing beside the stable. Was it Keila? Would she be happy to see him? His heart chugged a heavy beat. Of course she wouldn’t. She’d asked him to leave. With a turn of his wrist, he tightened the reins about his hand and slowly straightened in the saddle. Never mind if she wasn’t pleased to see him. He’d not be leaving until he told her all he’d learned.
The figure near the stable shifted about as Demon’s galloping hooves drew closer. But it wasn’t Keila’s bonny face that turned to see who ha
d come; it was Moira, the dragon’s.
Dair drew rein by the house and jumped from the saddle, his gaze searching to see if Keila was about. Burying his disappointment at not finding the woman he was desperate to see, he strode to where Moira stood, her displeasure at seeing him obvious by the flat line of her mouth and the glare she fixed on him as he stopped in front of her.
‘I know who you are.’ A hint of displeasure darkened her quiet tone.
Adair withheld his frown and offered a small nod. ‘Moira.’
‘Now your injuries have healed, it’s obvious who your father is.’ Her gaze flicked up to one of the second-storey shuttered windows. Keila must be in her room. ‘She will not marry you, or any other. Drummin House is hers.’
He stared at the dragon and slowly smiled. ‘Keila is fortunate to have you.’ Surprise momentarily claimed Moira’s face but was quickly swept away and replaced by a her usual expression of mistrust. Adair continued. ‘Then Keila knows Drummin House returns to the Earl of Buchan if she weds?’
‘Of course she knows she’d lose her home to “the Wolf” if she is foolish enough to marry.’
Adair didn’t understand the reference, but Moira’s impression of his father was clear. ‘Good, but I think Leith of Drummin Castle is involved with—’
‘Adair?’
Keila’s musical voice had him spinning about in search of her. His heart seemed to cease beating for the short time it took him to find her. She stood with one hand holding the edge of the doorway into the kitchen like an anchor. The gown she wore fell over the feminine curves he’d recently come to know, but the forest-green hue of the garment looked drab in comparison to her emerald eyes.
He was striding toward her before he knew he’d moved. ‘Keila.’ His voice caught, and he glanced sidelong at Moira keeping stride with him and hoped she hadn’t noticed.
‘What are you doing here?’ His gaze shot back to Keila who’d released the doorway and was gliding toward him.
‘I was just asking him the same thing,’ Moira said, drawing to a halt along with him.
‘Moira please, let him speak.’ Keila stopped before them, her attention fixed on her friend.
‘Very well, but I’ll be close by if you need me, lass.’ With an affectionate touch to Keila’s arm and a narrow-eyed glare for him, Moira walked to the door Keila had just come out of.
‘The dragon still sees me as a monster,’ he said, as he watched Moira disappear inside.
‘And you still see her as a dragon,’ Keila said softly. ‘Why are you here, Adair?’
Weariness bordering on sadness dulled her voice and stole a trace of the lustre from her eyes. Dair clenched his jaw, loathing the thought that his return was the cause. ‘I was angry and confused when I left. I wanted to thank you again for your care. I’ve also come to tell you …’ The gentle morning breeze caught a red-gold strand of hair and sent it dancing across her face. Keila’s gaze slipped to one side as she captured the wayward lock and tucked it behind her ear. Her lashes fluttered several times before her eyes met his once more. ‘I wanted to tell you what my journey west revealed.’
Her lovely lips parted and her eyes widened. ‘Did you find your kin?’
Her excitement for him was like a dagger to his heart. How could he tell her his father was an earl and was a cold and powerful man who valued land and property more than he did his own flesh and blood? How was he to tell her he loved her and wanted to marry her, but the price was the home she adored? A house a greedy old man didn’t need and had forgotten about, until a younger, selfish man with visions of his own grandeur had reminded him of its existence and put Keila and Moira in harm’s way?
‘Aye, but things did not go as I’d hoped.’ He drank her in, knowing this was the last time he’d see her. ‘I’m returning to the Borders.’
‘What happened?’
‘Let’s just say my sire isn’t someone I’d be proud to call father.’
‘I’m so sorry, Adair.’ Keila’s hand lifted toward him, but stopped in the empty space midway between them.
The flesh of his arm rippled to life at the nearness of her touch. ‘There is also something else you should know.’ She gazed at him expectantly. ‘I believe Leith of Drummin Castle is responsible for your recent misfortunes, at market and the four men who tried to run you down. You shouldn’t have any further trouble from them or Leith.’ Not if his father upheld his part of their bargain by warning Leith away. And not if the earl believed Adair intended to carry out his plan to marry Keila and keep Drummin House in his father’s name.
The earl was leaving Lochindorb this morning, had likely already set out south for Atholl. It would be some time before any news about Drummin House reached him, and from what Adair had seen the day before, Alexander Stewart was not a well man. Soon, he would be no threat to Keila keeping her home. On the earl’s death, Drummin House would always be hers.
She watched him as closely as he watched her. A look of relief swept across her face and her eyes sparkled as brightly as they always should. Adair hoped he succeeded in concealing his yearnings for her.
‘I am forever grateful, Adair.’ A hint of breathlessness softened her words, his name.
He nodded and made to leave. ‘There is one more thing I need to tell you before I go.’ The words were free before he realised it was him speaking. But deep down he was pleased, because he couldn’t return to his life in the Borders without letting her know how much she meant to him.
He stepped closer, desperate to be near her, but stopped himself from reaching for her, uncertain if his touch would be unwelcome. He struggled to hold her gaze. ‘I hadn’t planned on telling you, I hadn’t planned for it to happen.’ He gave a half laugh that sounded as forced as it was, a laugh that held no humour. His hands shook. He clenched one about the hilt of his sword. The other, he clenched in on itself. ‘Please believe me when I say I don’t expect more. But I can’t leave without saying the words I have never spoken to another.’ He was rambling. He never rambled. Dair swallowed, stilled his restless feet and looked into her emerald eyes. ‘I love you, Keila.’
For a moment, nothing moved. Silence reigned. He should never have told her. She’d think him a fool. Adair drew a shaky breath into his chest that suddenly felt as if it were caving in. He held the breath and braced his heart against the rejection he expected with the widening of her emerald gaze.
‘Fire.’ Dair frowned and narrowed his eyes as Keila’s continued to widen at something over his shoulder. ‘Oh my God, Rory.’
Adair turned about and saw black plumes of smoke rising into the air in the distance. ‘God almighty.’ He turned back to Keila. ‘I’ll ride to the cottage.’ He ran toward Demon.
‘I’ll hitch the cart and will meet you there,’ Keila called, as he mounted and turned Demon into the direction of Rory’s cottage.
‘Run, Demon.’ He lay low along his horse’s neck. The smell of burning timber coated his next breath. He silently prayed that Rory and Netti weren’t caught up in the fire.
As fast as Demon galloped, it seemed forever before they were close enough to see precisely what was burning. Adair’s gut clenched the moment his eyes fixed on the sight of Rory’s cottage well ablaze. Rory running away from the river, dropping the two pails of water he carried in his wake as he ran toward the burning structure seized Dair’s heart.
‘Nae, Rory. Nae,’ Adair yelled to the older man. The cottage was well ablaze and no one would survive if they went inside now. But Rory kept running and running, straight for the burning cottage. ‘Wait! Rory, nae,’ Dair waved from his saddle trying to get Rory’s attention. Christ, he was going to be too late. ‘Rory!’ He screamed the man’s name and then Rory was gone. Had disappeared inside the building that looked to be nothing more than red-hot flames.
Adair wanted to jump to the ground and run, but there was still a way to go and Demon could get him there faster than his own legs. He gripped the leathers, forcing himself to stay in the saddle, silently willing a
nd begging for Rory to run back out of the cottage whole and hearty, wearing the mischievous grin Adair had come to know.
The heat from the blaze reached Adair, and pulling back on the reins, he slowed Demon and leapt from the saddle before his horse had stopped. Arms pumping at his sides, Adair ran toward the cottage, the hungry flames licking and waving, reaching out for him. Rory burst out through the wall of flames clutching something awkwardly in his arms.
‘Rory.’ Dair shouted and headed for where the older man slowed and stopped and dropped to his knees, still holding the bundle to his chest.
Adair fell to his knees before him and searched the older man’s face. White-hot fear for Rory pierced Adair’s chest. Clumps of his thin grey hair were missing or had shrivelled to round blackened balls close to his head. His eyes were closed and skin that had been weatherworn now bubbled with blisters. Quick breaths were wheezed in and out in at an irregular rhythm. The shirt he wore smouldered in places that now boasted holes, uneven and burned about the edges. His arms slowly lowered the burden that was wrapped in a wet linen cloth to his knees.
‘Rory?’
‘Is that … ye Mac?’
‘Aye, it’s me.’
‘Can ye? Here.’ He opened his eyes with much effort. ‘My Netti.’
Reaching forward, Adair scooped Netti into his arms and quickly uncovered her face. Large blue frightened eyes, surrounded by dark strands of greying hair, peered up at him. ‘Are you alright?’
She stared at him. ‘Aye.’
Dair glanced at Rory and knew the older man’s efforts had cost him dearly. The flesh between the blisters on his face had suddenly turned ashen and spittle dotted his parched lips each time he released a rattled breath.
‘Please help him,’ Netti said, freeing her arms and grasping Adair’s hand.
Adair had no idea what he could do to help Rory. He was no healer. He wished Keila was here, but it took time to hitch the horses to the cart. She’d be here soon. She’d know what to do. But until she arrived, he had to do or say something. ‘Keila will be here soon,’ he said to reassure Netti, before gently lifting her to the grass-covered ground beside him. Staying on his knees, Adair crawled over to Rory’s side.
The Rogue Page 22
