by Mary Morgan
“Nae, sister. Do not blame Rory. Remember, the walls here at Kileburn are rife with ears listening everywhere. Eventually, all is revealed, even to the laird.”
She tapped her foot in irritation. Who could have been listening? Did Mairi mention anything to Larena? “This is why I cannot stay here. Everyone is fearful of the other. “
Sighing, Graham stood. “Regardless, ye must remember that as the sister to the Laird of Kileburn, ye are subject to more scrutiny. All eyes will be on ye, be it here, or at your cottage. They may call ye the White Healer, but in truth, the verra name can bring about your downfall.”
Chapter Fifteen
“A Fae’s love is as brilliant as all the stars in the universe.”
~Chronicles of the Fae
The tune was a mournful one and Rory knew it well. It was one played on occasion, leaving many weeping at the end. Countless would gather at feasts and listen to the story of how the star-crossed lovers were ill fated. Though their families objected to the union, they still held firm in their love. When the young man was sent away, he was seized upon and killed. His body dumped into the ocean. The young lass waited for his homecoming, even though she was told he was dead. Her love had blinded her to the truth. And as the years passed, she grew bitter. One day, when the ache in her heart could not be soothed, she stripped her clothing and ventured out into the sea in hopes of reuniting with her lover. They say if one listens in silence on a summer twilight, you can almost hear her mournful weeping within the ocean breezes.
Yet, the voice Rory heard singing the melody was one of hope and not sadness. As he followed the beautiful sound, Rory emerged near Erina’s chamber. Her door was partially ajar, and he pushed it open further. His heart pounded against his chest as he watched her fingers glide over the harp near the window. Morning sunlight streamed down around her, encasing her in golden light. She was an ethereal vision, and he was held captive.
Her singing ignited something within Rory. He longed to join her in song, and he stepped forward. When she ended the second verse, he lifted his own voice.
“May the light of my love surround ye always. ’Til ye return and bring me your heart, so I give ye a piece of mine to carry. As the tides ebb and flow, so shall my love for ye. From one season to the next, I pray ye do not tarry and come home to my embrace.”
Startled, Erina stopped playing and looked up at him.
That gaze, both hungry and confused, had ripped him apart. Had turned him inside out with a need so fierce, it took all his control as a warrior to keep it contained. “Continue,” he encouraged.
Her smile lit up her face, and her fingers took up the strings upon the harp. Not once did her gaze waver from his as she continued to play.
Clasping his hands behind his back, he wove a single thought within his mind, and a rose magically appeared inside his joined hands. The thorn bit into his palm, but Rory gave no care. Her voice banished the shadows and brought light to his weary soul. A peace centered inside and he held it firm.
When she finished the last note, Erina folded her hands in her lap. “Ye have heard the song before?”
“Aye,” his voice sounding hoarse to his ears.
She stood and straightened the creases of her dress. “I’ve heard it played several times at the market fair. Ye have a good voice. Do ye favor singing?”
“When the mood strikes. Though sadly, it has been a long while since I lifted my voice in song.” He brought forth the rose. “A flower for the lady.”
Her eyes lit up with joy. “How kind of ye, but where did ye find a white rose? There are none among the others.”
“Away from the main garden,” he lied.
“’Tis a rare beauty,” she exclaimed, fingering the petals. “Although, fragrant and stunning, their thorns leave a nasty bite.” Erina took his hand and inspected the wound, which was now mending.
I would endure a thousand thorns to see your smile each day.
“’Tis naught.”
“Let me put some salve into the wound.”
Rory nodded and slowed the healing process within his palm. After following her to a side table, he watched as she concentrated on finding the small jar she required. Pulling one forth from the back, she opened it and dabbed a small amount with her finger. He held his hand outward, and Erina dotted the healing ointment onto his palm. Rory stood transfixed, watching her every movement.
She reached for a cloth and wiped her finger off. “If ye would like, ye can have this jar. I have another. Ye should apply a small amount in the evening.”
Taking the offering, he asked, “Why then?”
“Because I hope ye would have washed after a day doing whatever men do.” She laughed and backed away from him.
“Thank ye.”
Erina picked up the rose. “And thank ye for the lovely flower.”
Rory risked her reputation if any should come passing through the corridor, but desire propelled him toward Erina. Reaching for her hand, he placed a lingering kiss along the vein in her wrist. “Until we meet again.”
She gasped, and her eyes darkened with desire. Thank the Gods her door was open, or Rory would have ravished her mouth. Taking a step back, he bowed and left the chamber, only to be met by Catherine along the corridor.
The woman tapped a finger against his chest. “Ye should be more careful,” she warned.
“Jealous?” he teased.
“Rory MacGregor, ye wound me. Am I not like a sister?” Her tone took a more somber tone. “Tread carefully. Kileburn has spies everywhere.”
“And here I thought ye were warning me against the Lady Erina.”
“Humph! I fear more for her heart than yours.”
Rory swallowed. How untrue Catherine’s words were, and he gave her a curt nod.
Unfortunately, in trying to depart, the woman linked her arm through his and propelled him back inside the chamber. “How unexpected that I should run into ye and Erina. I have some glorious news to share with ye both.”
Erina looked up in surprise, her cheeks stained with red blotches. “Good morning, Catherine.”
“My how lovely ye look in that lavender gown. The color brings out your rosy complexion.”
Erina darted a quick glance at Rory, but quickly recovered. “What is this glorious news?”
Catherine released her hold on Rory and went to Erina. “Today is Thursday Market and truth be told, I am looking to purchase some cloth for new gowns and ribbons. Graham mentioned St. Timmons Square boasts the best market on this side of the coast.”
“Aye, ’tis true,” agreed Erina. “I am in need of candles and salt for my home.”
“Wondrous! Though the day is brisk, the sky bears no clouds. It will be a lovely day.” Catherine turned to Rory. “And ye can be our escort.”
Rory narrowed his eyes. “I must protest—”
Catherine cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Graham was the one to suggest the outing. If ye must ken, Darren and Brother Michael will be accompanying us, as well. So dinnae regard this as a chore. Ye should take it as a day of rest. Ye can wander with the other men.”
He fisted his hands on his hips. “Why do I sense ye have controlled this day, Catherine?”
She pouted. “Once again, ye wound me. Does not a day escorting beautiful women sound appealing?”
Rory couldn’t help himself, and he barked out in laughter. “God help the man ye marry one day.”
The woman snorted. “And he will be a man of my choosing, aye.”
“I shall go tend to the horses.”
She dipped her head. “Splendid. We will join ye shortly.”
Rory quickly made his way out of the chamber, intent on enjoying the day with Erina.
****
The women chattered incessantly during their journey to St. Timmons. Nevertheless, Rory only cared for one voice. Erina’s. She laughed, pointed out the animals and birds in passing, and challenged Catherine to a game of chess later. His chest had swelled when she approached th
e stables earlier wearing the white rose pinned to her cloak. When Catherine asked where she procured the flower, Erina lied and stated she found it tucked among the others.
“I can tell by your smile, ye are enjoying the day,” commented Brother Michael, coming alongside him.
“And how did ye come to this conclusion?”
Brother Michael laughed. “Ye are smiling. ’Tis a rare occurrence with ye.”
Rory rubbed a gloved hand over his chin. “Your observation is correct.”
“I’ve often been told I am a good listener.”
“I am not one to favor confessions,” Rory replied dryly.
“Nae, nae. I am not in a position to give absolution. That would require a priest.” He lifted a finger. “Though, if there was none around, I would be honored.”
Chuckling softly, Rory replied, “Do not fear, Brother Michael, for I am not about to confess my sins to anyone.”
The man adjusted his robe. “Do ye wish to unburden any concerns? Is there something plaguing your thoughts?”
Aye, only one. Erina. “Nae. I am only enjoying the fine day.”
“I concur. Yet, I fear snow will soon be here. I might have to extend my stay at Kileburn.”
Rory glanced sideways at the monk. “How long have you known Erina and her brother?”
“Most of my life. My mother married a MacIntyre, though I did not meet Erina until after the elder laird passed. Graham bade me to seek out his sister and urge her to come to Kileburn.” He shook his head in mirth. “However, once in her company I grew to understand her solitude and love of the land. She would never be happy at Kileburn. Mind ye, I did try to persuade her for Graham’s sake, but the lass is as stubborn as her brother.”
His gaze found Erina. “She will never relent. Kileburn is not her home.”
Brother Michael sighed. “I heard she was attacked in the woods, so Graham is more insistent she remain at the castle for her safety. I believe he would prefer that until she marries.”
He snapped his attention back to the monk, and Rory’s mind screamed at him to remain silent. “Has Graham mentioned any suitors?”
The man slowed his horse. “Many, though I wonder if ye should be considered.”
Stunned, Rory eyed him skeptically. “Why would ye consider me?”
The monk shrugged. “God works in miraculous ways. I may have chosen a life of abstinence, but any fool can see how ye look at Erina.”
Rory blew out a soft curse. “I have nae lands or money, and have pledged a vow to never marry.”
“Are ye firm in those convictions?”
“Most assuredly, and I reckon Graham would want someone to give his sister a comfortable life, not one of poverty.” However, a small part of Rory wanted to believe he could claim her hand in marriage. Did he dare to have what his own people denied him? A life with a human? The mere idea had his heart racing, and he thought of another Fenian Warrior—Aidan Kerrigan. The elite warrior defied the Fae and married a human. Yet, sorrow filled Rory upon recalling how he was banished from the realm, stripped of his powers, and made mortal.
“Ewan MacGregor speaks highly of ye,” countered the monk.
“Then mayhap Ewan should marry her.” Regret filled Rory the moment he had spoken the words. He had no desire to see Erina wed his friend. In truth, he did not want to see her with anyone but him. Dark fury burst inside Rory at the mere idea of her bedding another man.
“I believe an offer was extended to your laird, but he politely declined,” offered Brother Michael.
“What?” Rory frowned in confusion. Why hadn’t Ewan mentioned the marriage proposal? “And how are ye privy to this information?”
The monk laughed. “I was present this morning as a witness and friend.”
Rory relaxed his shoulders. “I ken it best to leave the choosing to Erina.”
“She has nae wish, therefore her brother must seek one. I reckon he will attend to his other plan.”
“Which is?”
“To invite other lairds who are seeking wives to a feast and hunting on his lands.”
“And Erina will be the prize?” asked Rory, staring off in the distance. “She will flee the moment the truth is revealed.”
The monk shifted uneasily. “Exactly what I told Graham. Nevertheless, he deems it a good time to discuss the growing concern of conflict among the lands with other lairds.”
The area opened up, and Rory slowed his horse. The ghostly ruins of a cathedral stood in stark contrast to the green, lush land in the far off distance. A testament to the one God, and he frowned. He tried to recall why the place bothered him, but was unable to bring forth any concrete image.
“’Tis only stones and wood,” he muttered softly and moved toward Erina.
The square was beyond the river, and tents dotted the place. Boisterous laughter, music, and gaiety greeted them as they made their way across the bridge. It was a place teeming with a variety of goods and life.
Darren was the first to dismount and quickly made his way to Erina’s side. As he did his best to control his emotions, Rory glanced away and removed himself from his horse. He made his way to Catherine and lifted her off her own mount. The lass gave him a wink and strolled over to the couple.
“Why don’t ye show me the fabric stalls?” asked Catherine, tugging on Erina’s arm. “The men can go seek their own pleasure.”
Erina laughed, but she stole a glance at Rory. “Good, for I feared they would consider this day dull.”
Rory’s mouth twitched in humor. “In the company of such beauty, how could any one of us consider this day boring?”
Darren gave him a scathing look before turning his attention to Erina. “If ye should have need of anything, I will be at the ale tent.”
“The only thing we may need is strong arms to help us carry back our wares,” Catherine interjected.
The men watched as the women departed in laughter.
“Are ye buying a tankard for each of us, Darren?” proposed Rory, realizing he was poking a bear. “I require something to slake my thirst.”
“How generous,” commented Brother Michael, rubbing his hands together to ward off the chill in the air.
Darren grumbled a curse, but nodded. “Then ye can buy the second one, MacGregor.”
Rory clamped a hand on the man’s shoulder and replied, “And Brother Michael the third round.”
The monk lifted his hands. “I have nae coin.”
This time, Darren’s stern expression turned to one of mirth, and he pointed a finger at Rory. “Ye ken I can drink ye under the table?”
Rory folded his arms across his chest. “A challenge. I accept.”
The man snickered and strode down the path with Brother Michael following and again stating he was without funds.
Rory slowly brought his attention to Erina’s retreating form. “Look back, lass,” he commanded in a hushed tone.
Her unhurried steps lessened, and the breeze lifted a lock of hair from the nape of her neck. As Catherine continued to chatter, Erina glanced over her shoulder.
And the smile she gave Rory tempted him beyond measure. It was one filled with moonbeams of kisses yet to be explored, and the oath he had made many moons ago to not claim her now faded away.
Chapter Sixteen
“Ten times must a Fenian Warrior journey into the silence without food, drink, or companionship. If he breaks the vow, he will be banished from the Brotherhood.”
~Chronicles of the Fae
As she twirled the satin ribbon between her fingers, Erina gazed longingly at the color. She had enough coin for candles and her precious salt. She could ill afford to spend money on foolish items. Dropping the item back onto the table, she moved along the other stalls. Catherine continued to do her best on bartering a more fair deal for some lavender brocade, and Erina shook her head. She knew the man well, and he would not part with any coin. He was a shrewd dealer.
As Erina observed a young woman in obvious pain, she made her way
toward the woman. “Do ye require aid?”
The woman clutched her abdomen. “Nae. ’Tis always the same when I am with child.”
“Do ye find it difficult to keep food down?” asked Erina.
“Aye, but the priest tells me ’tis my punishment as a woman.”
Erina held back the argument that threatened to spew forth. Why did the priests spread such dread among their followers? “Each morn brew a cup of mint tea. And then in the evening make a brew of nettle tea. The mint will soothe your stomach pains and the nettle will provide nourishment for ye and the bairn.”
The woman gaped at her and then peered around Erina as if beholding a secret. She tugged on her sleeve. “’Tis what my grandmother told me. But I feared going against my priest.”
Erina patted the woman’s hand and smiled. “Remember, though he is your priest, the man has never carried a child.”
“Aye, aye.” Her eyes grew wide. “Thank ye kindly.” The woman dashed off among the stalls, and Erina shook her head.
Smells of food drifted by, and her stomach protested. Spying some toasted hazelnuts, she was sorely tempted to buy a small bag, but turned away from the vendor. As she made her way along the other side of the stalls, Catherine came charging toward her.
“By the saints, are all the men obstinate here?” Her friend asked, taking her arm.
“I take your meaning ye were unable to procure a deal?”
Catherine rolled her eyes. “Not one.”
“So ye have purchased naught?”
Pouting her lips, Catherine replied, “I daresay I might have to return and pay the asking price on one portion of fabric in a lovely shade of light blue.”
“The color would suit ye and your blonde hair.”
Her friend halted their stride. “I can see there will be nae argument from ye. Therefore I must return before someone else snatches it away.”
“If I may offer a bit of advice?”
“Please,” Catherine pleaded.
Erina glanced around, before turning her attention to her friend. “Seek out the women. Ye will be able to barter a fairer deal, since they need the coin more.”
