"Ye look upset,” said Nigel as he sat up in his bed, eager to practice walking some more.
"Nay, just feeling a wee bit harried.” She forced herself to smile at him as she slipped her arm around his waist and they began to pace the length of the room. “There is a great deal to do here now that Grizel is gone. She may have been a poor healer, but she did tend to all of those wee aches and hurts so many suffer, thus giving me more time to tend to you. Now everyone turns to me."
"Is there no one who could help you?"
"Nay, not yet. There is a woman who shows promise and interest in learning. She could easily become the next healing woman at Donncoill with but a little training."
Nigel winced, the stiffness in his leg causing him some pain as he moved it. “Doesnae it take years to become skilled at healing?"
"One can learn enough to help heal the small, common troubles if one has the wit. Grizel did, and she neither wanted nor liked the chore. This woman has the interest, the kindness Grizel lacked, and the wit. Ye will need to find her someone to finish training her though, for she will need someone who has more time than I do. She will do ye little good if her training ceases when I leave. In truth, one ne'er ceases to learn such things. There is so much knowledge, old and new, that it can take a lifetime."
"When are ye planning to leave us?"
"When ye are weel,” she replied, ignoring his frown over her vague answer.
"And where will ye go?” He staggered, and only Maldie's strong hold on him kept him from falling.
"To find my kinsmen."
Nigel cursed. “Ye answer so freely yet say so little."
"There is no more to say. I will leave when ye are hale again and thus my work here is at an end, and when I leave I shall continue my search for my kinsmen.” She turned him back toward the bed. “I think ye must needs sit down.” She was relieved when he meekly did as she asked him to.
"But we have only circled the room a few times,” he protested even as he sat down and used the sheet to mop the sweat from his brow.
"Aye, but ‘tis for the fourth time today. Only yesterday we walked this room just three times. Your legs already begin to tremble.” She poured him a tankard of sweet cider. “That tells me that it may yet be too soon to try walking that often. We shall add the fourth turn about the room more slowly. After all, it does ye no good to add a fourth turn if it just makes ye so weak and destroys all the gains made in the first three turns."
"Agreed,” he muttered, accepting her judgment with sullen reluctance, but then he turned his full attention upon her. “Then, mayhap, ye will do me the courtesy of telling me the real reason ye looked so upset as ye entered my room."
She glanced at him but was unable to hold his gaze. “I told you."
"Nay, ye told me that Donncoill's people are keeping ye busy mending their wee hurts and giving them potions for their many wee ailments. I ken that that is the truth. ‘Tis just nay the reason ye looked so upset.” He just smiled when she gave him a cross look. “Is Balfour causing ye trouble?"
Maldie studied him for a moment, then carefully said, “Mayhap I let vanity run amok, but I wouldnae have thought that ye would like to hear about me and Balfour."
Nigel grimaced. “'Tisnae vanity. We havenae and willnae speak upon it, but I think most of Donncoill has guessed how I feel. Mayhap I seek a vicarious pleasure in hearing that ye and my brother arenae happy.” He grinned briefly, then grew serious again. “More so, ‘tis because ye are alone. Who have ye to talk to? Besides Balfour, I mean. There has been neither time nor chance for ye to make friends here and there willnae be for several months, not until Eric is home and Beaton is dead. Everyone is consumed by the need to defeat Beaton and bring Eric safely back to Donncoill. And ye must needs spend a lot of time with me."
"I dinnae mind,” she murmured. “Healing is oftimes slow work, taking time and patience. ‘Tis my duty as a healer to do all that I can do to help a mon."
"How ye flatter a mon,” he drawled, then chuckled when she blushed faintly. “Lass, if ye feel a need to talk, to say things ye may not wish to say to my brother, e'en to simply complain, I am at your service. After all ye have done for me, the least I can do in return is offer ye an ear, one that will hear your words without judgment or suspicion. Aye, and one who will hold fast to what ye say and ne'er repeat it unless ye give me leave to."
It was a tempting offer. Maldie ached to have someone she could speak to freely. It was saddening that she could not do it with Balfour. She knew she could not do it with Nigel either. There were things she could tell no one at Donncoill, at least not yet. If there was even the slightest chance of a future for her and Balfour she was sure it would be severely threatened if he discovered that she had told Nigel secrets she had refused to tell him. Maldie did not want to put Nigel into the uncomfortable position of listening to her babble on about Balfour either. Even if she could do so without causing Nigel pain, she would still force him to have to compromise his loyalties to clan and kinsmen.
"Ye are most kind, Nigel, but it would be best for both of us if I refuse your generous offer,” she replied. “If there are things I cannae discuss with Balfour, my lover, I dinnae think I should then run and unburden myself to his brother. If Balfour discovered that I had confided in ye what I didnae or wouldnae confide in him, it could hurt him, or, at least, sting his pride. It could also place ye between the two of us, a place I dinnae think ye would like to be. It could e'en mean that, because of your promise to me, ye are forced to keep secrets from your brother, your laird. That must ne'er happen, especially not now when ye are soon to face your enemy at your brother's side."
"I hate to see ye troubled,” he said as she tucked him back into his bed. “After all ye have done, ye deserve to be light of heart, to ken an ease of mind."
"Weel, ‘twill be many a month ere I can savor that sort of peace. Now, rest. I will send Jennie in."
To be light of heart and easy in her mind was a dream Maldie dearly wished to see fulfilled. If I survive, she mused as she started out of the room. She needed to get away from Nigel, from the sympathy in his eyes, and from the comfort and understanding he promised her. It would be so easy to run to him with all of her troubles and fears, but, in the end, he could help her no more than she could help herself. In her heart she also knew that it could easily add to her troubles, dragging Nigel into the midst of them. She did not want or need the burden of guilt that would sit upon her shoulders.
As she stepped out into the upper hallway, she caught a fleeting glimpse of James and cursed. Maldie almost returned to Nigel, eager to complain, but swallowed the urge and headed down the stairs. Even if she could turn Nigel against James she would not, for she had quickly seen that both Nigel and Balfour looked upon the man as a second father. She sternly reminded herself that James was right to suspect her, to feel that she needed close watching, but that truth did little to soothe her. Justified or not, it was annoying to have one's every move keenly watched.
Instead of going to the kitchens to mix her salves as she had planned, Maldie strode out into the bailey. It was the one place where she did not see James's frowning face peering at her from around every corner. She knew that was because James was confident that the bailey was secure and that many another would keep a close watch on her, but Maldie decided that, at the moment, it was blessing enough to get out from beneath James's dark eyes.
She meandered around the bailey, peering in at the stables, exchanging a few words with the man who tended to the hounds, and even watching the armorer as he skillfully turned useless metal into a fine sword. Inwardly she smiled as she realized that what was only simple curiosity could easily appear to be spying to a suspicious person. James was a very suspicious person. She briefly considered a close study of a few of Donncoill's defenses to give James something to really fret about, then she allowed good sense to rule her. Doing something that could so easily make James feel his dark suspicions were justified was not the way to ease her burdens o
r lessen her troubles. In fact it could easily prove to be a dangerous game. Acting like an enemy spy when a clan was at war was, quite probably, an act of complete idiocy.
"Why are ye frowning so?” Balfour asked as he stepped up beside her, nodding a brief greeting to the armorer as he tugged Maldie out of the man's work shed. “Did I startle you?” He frowned when she briefly glared at him.
Maldie took a few deep breaths to slow the rapid beat of her heart, even as she allowed him to pull her along at his side while he began to walk. She knew that one of the reasons his stealthy approach always scared her was because she was filled with guilt over her deceptions. There was always that brief moment of sharp fear that she had said something or done something to give herself away. She knew she needed to control that, for her unease alone could be enough to rouse suspicions. James was probably whispering his doubts about her into Balfour's ears, and she did not want to do or say anything that would add weight to the man's words.
"Ye should make some sound when ye approach someone,” she said.
"There are times when that could get me killed,” he replied.
"Weel, aye, but I am nay your enemy."
"Nay, of course ye arenae."
Balfour inwardly cursed when she glanced at him sharply, the ghost of a frown upon her face. He was doing a very poor job of hiding his increasing doubts about her. At times he almost wished she would reveal herself, by word or by deed, as a spy, one of Beaton's minions, for it would absolve him of the terrible guilt he felt every time suspicion rose in his breast. He detested the uncertainty he suffered. The pain he sometimes glimpsed in her eyes, a look that told him she was aware of his suspicions, tore at his heart one minute and angered him the next. If she was innocent, then her pain was real and he had inflicted it, but if she worked for Beaton, then it was just another ploy to weaken him and to strengthen her power over him.
He was sure that he loved her and that terrified him. He wanted to tell her all that he felt and was afraid that she would discover his weakness for her. He prayed that she was not on Beaton's side, then wanted her to confess that she was. He wanted her to go away and was terrified that she would leave. He wanted her out of his bed even as he held her close throughout the night. Balfour was so torn by conflicting emotions he feared he would go mad. The final battle with Beaton had to come soon, he mused, or he would lose his sanity and be incapable of leading his men.
"How go the battle plans?” Maldie asked, as they walked through the gates of the inner walls encircling the keep into the area where the half-built tower stood. “I hear little or nothing about it now, yet I ken the planning still continues."
"Weel, ye have been much occupied with Nigel, fighting to make him strong again."
"I just wondered why ye ne'er ask me any questions now. Do ye ken all ye need to about Dubhlinn?"
He leaned against the wall that joined the new tower to the old walls. “I think I have gleaned all I need to from you, all that can be of any use to me, leastwise. There are other ways of discovering what we must without pulling ye into the midst of a battle plan."
"I dinnae mind,” Maldie said as she stood in front of him, desperately trying not to look as hurt and scared as she felt. “I should like to help ye as much as I can."
"Ye help me by tending to Nigel. Dinnae fret, sweeting, we have both eyes and ears where we need them."
"So, ye have heard from the mon ye have set within the heart of Dubhlinn."
"Come, we havenae seen much of each other in these last two days,” he said as he reached out and pulled her into his arms. “Do ye truly wish to consume our time together with talk of battles and spies?"
Maldie wondered what he would do if she said yes, then bit back the word. She had sensed that she was being pushed out of all talk concerning Beaton, the coming battle, and the rescue of Eric. Balfour's evasive answers to her questions confirmed that. It was not only James who mistrusted her. That man had already begun to sway Balfour. She would hear no more about the battle.
Her first thought was that she should pull away from Balfour, far away. It was madness to remain his lover when he thought she was his enemy. It would taint every caress they exchanged. Then he pressed her closer to his strong, warm body and she felt her pride crumble. She felt something else as well. Balfour was as torn as she was. He had suspicions, but he did not want to. He still desired her despite those doubts. James had not yet won Balfour over completely. She and Balfour were not only well matched in their passion, she thought with a sad smile, but in their confusion as well. She could not know which would prove stronger, his doubts or his passion, but she decided to let fate lead her where it would. There might only be days left before they were forced apart, either by James's mistrust or the truth, and she did not want to lose one moment of that precious time.
"This isnae a verra private place,” she murmured as she tilted her head back so that he could more easily tantalize her throat with soft kisses.
"'Tis the perfect place from which to watch the sun set,” he replied, savoring the taste of her as he gently nipped at her earlobe and began to unlace her gown.
"Is that what ye are planning to do?” When her gown fell into a heap around her ankles, she nimbly stepped out of it and kicked it aside. “Someone may see us,” she added, as modesty briefly infected her.
"Nay. This is a favorite spot for lovers. Once we were seen to walk this way, all eyes were turned elsewhere."
"I am nay sure I like everyone kenning what we are doing here."
"They all ken that we are lovers. There are few secrets at Donncoill. But have faith, loving, no one will spy upon us, just as they would expect no one to spy upon them if they crept away for a tryst."
That was difficult to believe, but before Maldie could voice her doubt he kissed her, and she lost all interest in who might see them and what people might think. A small part of her was shocked by the brazen way she behaved as she matched Balfour kiss for kiss and caress for caress in the red glow of the setting sun. Their greed for each other held a hint of desperation, as if he also feared that their time together was coming to an end. It was not until they lay sprawled in each other's arms, exhausted from their frenzied lovemaking, that Maldie began to wonder if fate was leading her down the wrong path. Such heedless sensual gluttony seemed wrong, especially since neither of them spoke of love or marriage or of any future together at all.
"Ye shouldnae be so quick to condemn yourself when the loving has ended,” Balfour said quietly, kissing her frowning mouth before rolling off her and reaching for his braies.
"How do ye ken what I am thinking?” She looked around for her chemise.
"'Tis that solemn, almost angry look that comes o'er your bonny face when the flush of passion has left it."
A little unsettled by how easily he seemed to guess her thoughts, Maldie sat up with her back to him as she brushed the dirt from her chemise and prepared to slip it on. She tensed when he suddenly grabbed her by both arms, stopping her from covering herself. She could almost feel his stare burning into her back, and she knew exactly what he was looking at. Despite the fading light of a setting sun, Maldie knew the heart-shaped mark on the back of her right shoulder had to be easy to see. Until now she had been very careful to keep Balfour from getting a full, clear view of her back, the dim light in their bedchamber helping her. She kept very still, terrified that he recognized it as Beaton's mark. For more times than she cared to count she had cursed that clear sign of Beaton's siring her. Her mother had never let her forget that it was the mark of her bastardry, a clear sign that she was tainted by Beaton's blood. Now she feared that it could prove a threat to her life.
"Ye have a heart upon your back,” Balfour said, his voice soft with bemusement.
She pulled free of his hold and yanked on her chemise. “I am sorry. I have tried hard not to offend ye with the sight of it."
"Sweet, wee Maldie, ye do hold some strange thoughts in your bonny head,” he muttered, still frowning at her b
ack as she hurriedly pulled on her clothes. “'Tis no offense to the eye.” He could tell from her quick, stiff movements that she was in no mood to be touched, so he began to get dressed.
"The way ye stared at it and e'en the odd way ye spoke implied that ye were shocked by the sight of it."
"And I was. I have been your lover for o'er a week now. I thought I had seen all of you.” He grinned when she cast a quick glare his way. “'Tis clear that I have been lax in my attentions.” Balfour laughed when she leapt to her feet, then stood up to help her retie the laces on her gown. “Mayhap I must needs light a few more candles."
"Ye are trying verra hard to embarrass me.” She tried not to be relieved that he had not immediately recognized the mark as one only a Beaton could carry. Maldie was sure that she was not out of danger yet, and she did not want to have her guard weakened by false hope.
"Nay, ‘tisnae that hard to bring a blush to your cheeks."
"I am feeling verra eager to strike you."
"I am all atremble.” He laughed and rubbed his arm after she lightly punched him there. “I think I may bear a scar there for all my days."
"Ye are in a humor to tease me, arenae ye,” she said as he hooked his arm through hers and started to walk them back to the keep.
"Aye. I am also verra hungry now.” He winked at her. “Ye have raised a powerful appetite in me, dearling."
She tried very hard not to blush again and hissed a curse when she felt the tingle of warm blood in her cheeks. It was good that he was in such high spirits, all of his doubts and suspicions gone for the moment. She just wished she had the skill to accept his teasing with no more than a calm, gently amused smile.
"'Tis odd,” he continued in a more serious tone, “but I have the strongest feeling that I have seen such a mark before, one of the same shape and set in the same place."
Maldie's step faltered as shock then fear rippled through her. She realized that despite her best efforts, his good humor had caused her to grow less wary. It took a moment for her to calm herself. She did not wish Balfour to guess how badly he had upset her. There was no possible way he could have seen that mark upon Beaton, but he could have heard about it. She shook away that chilling thought. Her mother had always told her that Beaton kept his mark well hidden, that the man considered it a stain set upon his skin by the devil himself.
Highland Destiny [Murray Brothers Book 1] Page 12
