Every Heart Has Its Day

by Lynda Lukow

  The bole reminded him of the new Kasey—determined and strong, but dependent on others to move it along.

  He picked up the caber and tossed it into a patch of wild roses. He hated that Dillon had gained her affection. Mayhap she found his brother more appealing. Mayhap his youth attracted her. Nay, since she cared not for shallow traits, the root must lie deeper. Mayhap Dillon had protected her, and she be grateful.

  No matter the reason, she seemed to have a grand time running her hands over Dillon’s back. She should touch no one save him.

  That would not happen any time soon. She could barely speak to him.

  He had no one to blame save himself. He never should have sent his youngest brother into the snake pit. He should have garnered her release himself.

  The two of them had not yet shared any good times. She nursed him through the fever, and before he had fully regained his health, the king had sent her home.

  He picked up the tree trunk and heaved it into the stream. The current lodged it above a small dam. If only he could so easily cast aside whatever dammed his woman of the falls.

  Determination surged. He would tend her spirit just as she had nursed his body. First she must accept that the king had pledged her to him, and he would share her with no man.

  The need to beat his head against a tree nearly overwhelmed him. How could he be so foolish? He wanted her to fall in love with the man he had become, but she not need forget the man he had been. They could build on the foundation they had laid at Inverness.

  He must get her to look into his eyes. After she remembered Hunter, he would confess and apologize for his deceit. He would fully answer her every question. She would forgive him and throw herself into his arms.

  But first he must find her.

  Along the way, he ran across his youngest brother. “Ye and I will discuss this matter after I speak to Kasey.”

  Dillon nodded. “She be just around the bend in the river. Heed my warning, Connor. If ye hear loud splashes, wait. Anger spates atween sobs.”

  Connor nodded and strode in her direction.

  She flinched and cursed after each rock she heaved into the water. He waited until she sank onto the riverbank. He had to gain her attention before she started sobbing. “Kasey?”

  She turned toward him.

  Her puffy eyes and red nose tore at his heart. “Please, dinna cry. I forgive ye.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Pray tell me, sir. For what do I need forgiveness?”

  Her lips barely moved. Her voice strained.

  He had better tread lightly. “Ye understand not why yer actions with my brother be indecent and insulting.”

  “My deeds be not yer concern.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Do ye?” Her hand trembled as she pushed the tendrils that had escaped her braid from her face. “Ye be not my father. Ye be too young and handsome to be our king. Be ye my husband?”

  Before he could thank her for the praise, she prattled on.

  “Nay, I had been but ten summers the last time I saw Laird Grant, but ye dinna resemble him in any way. Pray tell me, sir. By what right do ye claim responsibility for me?”

  He took heart. Her betrothal to Alain Grant had not been a love match. One more obstacle remained. “Do ye care for Dillon?”

  “Ye failed to answer my question.”

  “After ye answer mine.”

  “I asked first.”

  He crossed his arms. “I be bigger.” She shrank before his eyes.

  “Aye. I care for Dillon.” She toed the ground.

  Connor took a deep breath. He needed to know, but feared her answer. “Deeply?”

  “He be the younger brother I never had and so much more.”

  “More?”

  “He speaks with me, not at me. He allows me to be my true self, though sometimes I ken not who I be. He never mocks or degrades me. He be the first man in ages to respect me.”

  “And what man before Dillon treated ye thus?”

  She turned away. “It matters not.”

  “Why, milady?”

  “His sweet words be but a ruse.”

  “What would he gain by playing ye the fool?”

  “He required my skills. I be sure he has since found a woman more suited to his needs.”

  “How could he? Ye be the best woman in all of Scotland.”

  She spun to face him. “That be quite a claim for a man who knows me not. Hear my words and take them to heart. I shall never agin be a trusting fool. Hunter be dead to me, and he took my heart to the grave with him.” She fled toward camp.

  “Ye be wrong, milady. Hunter be very much alive, and he be quite thankful to ken he has yer heart.” Now he must prove it.

  ****

  Try as she might, Kasey could not outrun her memories. Hunter had died, at least in her mind. She would rather live alone than give another man the chance to shred the remnants of her heart.

  She slowed when she reached the clearing.

  “Ye be right on time, milady. Marcus has prepared stew for our evening meal. If it burns, he will spend the rest of the night in a lather.”

  “I be not hungry, Dillon.”

  “Ye must eat, milady.”

  “I said I be not hungry.”

  “I heard ye, but I beg ye to reconsider. Marcus be quite proud of his skill. If ye dinna eat, he will make the rest of us miserable.” Dillon leaned over and whispered. “He be worse than Laird Cameron afore his first drink.”

  Kasey lifted her gaze to Dillon’s smile. “Ye jest with me?”

  “I may have embroidered the truth a bit, but I assure ye Marcus will not take kindly to ye turning away his offerings. He has gone to great lengths to make his best stew ever.”

  She followed Dillon to the fire where all the others, save her captor, gathered. Someone thrust a bowl of stew into her undamaged hand. She assured them she could wait until they had eaten their fill.

  They stopped gathering their own fare and faced her.

  “Have I misspoken?”

  “I be Malcolm, milady.” The stocky lad bowed and handed her a spoon. “We serve those of import first.”

  “I said I could wait.”

  Robert’s beard swung back and forth. “Ye be a lady, therefore ye be served afore us.”

  “Nay.”

  “I dinna understand.”

  She looked toward the man who had tended her. “Each of us be ranked depending upon our import. Agreed?” Kasey waited until each man bobbed a chin or grunted assent. “The king takes precedence over all since he bears responsibility for every Scot. Within each clan, the laird ranks highest. His heir be vital for continuity of the bloodline, so he comes next.”

  “Please go on, milady.”

  She sat and set her bowl in her lap. The stew smelled so good, she could wait no longer to eat a spoonful. She closed her eyes to savor the fare. With her mouth still full she said, “This be the best stew I have ever tasted.”

  A blushing man bowed. “Thank ye, milady.”

  “I wish to hear more of this hierarchy.”

  Startled by her captor’s voice, she swallowed too quickly. A piece of venison lodged in her throat. She coughed several times. One of the men slapped her back. She shot up her hand.

  Thankfully, he heeded her signal and stopped. She wiped away tears, wrought from her coughing spell and the pain of his strikes. Someone handed her a cup of wine, and she gulped down half. “Thank ye.”

  “Be ye better now?”

  She nodded, though she doubted her captor cared.

  “Then I wish ye to continue. Ye stopped at the heir.”

  “Next in line be the commanders, followed by the warriors, for without them none have security. Then the tradesmen and stablemaster since their weapons and horses be vital to safety. Warriors would be too weak to protect the others without food, so the farmers come next.” Kasey paused to take another bite. She had the hierarchy beaten into her head—and her back—so often that she would never forge
t it.

  Her captor sat across from her. “Ye failed to mention the ladies of the manor.”

  “I shall,” she assured him. “The cook must prepare the food. The craftsmen’s wares enrich life and provide monies for the taxes. Now,” she glanced at the bearded mountain, “comes the laird’s wife. After she produces two sons, she may lead a separate life so long as she leaves the keep in capable hands.”

  “Where does the laird’s daughter place?” Dillon asked.

  “Since the clan must support her until she weds, and then it must pay a dowry, she be naught but a burden.”

  A muscle in her captor’s cheek twitched. “Ye have much to learn, milady.”

  She snorted, and then wrinkled her nose. “What be burning?”

  Marcus swore as he removed the pot from the fire. He threw the singed fare into a clump of bushes, then returned to the gathering and sat next to Kasey. “May I ask a question, milady?”

  She nodded as she swallowed another bite.

  “Be this ranking the reason ye never look us in the eye? At first I wondered if ye thought yerself too good, but now I believe the opposite be true.”

  She pushed the rest of her stew around the trencher.

  “Have ye been taught to seek permission before ye look a person in the eye?” Her captor stood braced for battle.

  At the risk of his wrath, she nodded.

  “Lady Cameron.” Dillon knelt at her side. “Ye have permission to look me in the eyes any time ye wish.”

  Kasey turned away.

  “Please, milady.”

  “Be this a sick game ye play?”

  “Milady, I have seen yer clan, and I understand yer doubts, but things be different now.”

  Kasey contemplated Dillon’s claim. What was the worst that could happen? Another lashing would be unlikely for she saw no whips. Come to think of it, none of the horses bore any marks of abuse. She took a deep breath, turned to Dillon, and met his gaze.

  “Ye have beautiful eyes, milady.”

  Marcus shoved Dillon aside and dropped before her. “She looks like an angel.”

  Malcolm and Robert nearly stepped on each other in their rush to grant her their leave.

  Though she smiled at each of the men, disappointment weighed heavily on her shoulders. Both the man who tended her wound and her captor left before granting permission.

  “I beg yer pardons.” Kasey yawned. “Dillon, would ye point me toward my pallet?”

  He led her to the small clearing he had prepared and bid her good night.

  She lay down on her bed of grass and leaves. The pain in her arm forced her to roll off that side. When her back touched the pallet she gasped and bolted up. She shifted her weight to her other hip and lowered her body.

  If only her mind could find such relief.

  ****

  Connor cursed dawn’s haste. Thrice Kasey’s restlessness had woken him. Thrice he asked if she dreamt, but she did not respond. He left her to her rest and ordered Robert and Dillon, who stood guard, to sleep while the others tended the chores.

  He grabbed hunks of cheese and bread, then returned to Kasey. She moaned as she struggled to rise. A single tear slid down her flushed cheek.

  “Kasey?” He took her hand to help her sit up, but dropped it like a hot ember. “Gavin!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Time crawled until Gavin reached Connor’s side. Fear stole his words. He could do naught but point to Kasey.

  Gavin knelt and placed a hand on her brow. “She burns.”

  “Aye. Dinna just stand there.” Connor ordered. “Have ye vervain?”

  Gavin pulled Connor aside. “When yer fever rose, Kasey warned me that some people canna tolerate certain herbs. To make sure I understood, she told me that members of her family had died after taking vervain. Be ye willing to risk her life?”

  “I dinna come this far to retrieve a corpse. Even if we ride like the wind, our holding be two days away.”

  “Aye, but we could reach Annie by nightfall.”

  Connor nodded. Their sister would know what to do.

  “Riders approach!”

  Connor despised that warning under any circumstances, but he found it insufferable at this moment. “Gavin, prepare the lady to leave. Robert, bring my horse. We shall greet whoever dares to cross our path.”

  “Connor?” Gavin called. “I swear I did my best.”

  Connor nodded before he and Robert reined their mounts toward the highest point. On the rise, he took a calming breath. The banner of the king’s guard offered no threat. He goaded his horse down the hill and called out.

  Broderick halted his mount. “Laird Mackintosh? What brings ye so far south?”

  “Ye ken the reason I be in this God-forsaken place.”

  “Forgive me, laird, but I understand not. The king ordered ye not to enforce his directive without an emissary. Ye would never disobey a command.”

  “I shall deal with the consequences of my actions later. An urgent matter requires my attention.” Connor turned his horse around.

  “Hold!” Broderick commanded.

  Connor called over his shoulder, “I have no time to waste. If ye care to learn all that has occurred, I shall explain whilst ye ride by my side.”

  As soon as Broderick’s horse drew even with his, he informed the emissary that Kasey burned with fever.

  Broderick urged his horse to a full gallop and dismounted before his stallion stopped. He ran to Lady Cameron, then shouted to the guard’s commander, “We return to Inverness immediately.”

  “Nay!” Connor shouted. “Lady MacPherson will tend Kasey.”

  “The king has ordered Lady Cameron’s return to Inverness.”

  Connor whispered to Gavin before he wheeled around and grabbed Broderick’s tunic. “If we delay, ye will have naught but her body by this time on the morrow.”

  “Unhand me.” Broderick tore Connor’s hand from his shirt. “Ye have no right to decide her welfare.”

  As the emissary argued his point, Gavin handed Connor a goblet. He drank half the contents and returned it to his brother.

  “So help me, Laird Mackintosh, if ye have bed her afore ye wed her, I shall make her a widow posthaste.”

  Connor glared past the emissary, who turned to follow his gaze. Gavin roused Kasey and held the chalice to her lips. Little time passed before he upended the empty goblet.

  The emissary fisted his hands. “The sharing of wine means naught. A priest must bless the union.”

  “Whether ye like it or not, old man, she now be my wife.”

  “Bastard!”

  Kasey’s groan quenched Connor’s desire to beat the man. “Gavin, Marcus? We leave for the MacPhersons now. Robert, Malcolm, and Dillon, return home and inform Ingram of our whereabouts. Tell him I order a contingent sent to the MacPherson holding. Double the guard at our holding. We ken not how the Camerons and Grants will accept their loss.” Connor turned to the emissary, “Ye may do as ye wish.”

  Broderick conferred with the guard’s commander. “Half of the king’s men will escort ye to the MacPherson’s. The others will return to Inverness. Before we separate, ye will tell us all that has happened.”

  The sun ceded its battle to night as they entered MacPherson lands. Connor sprang from his horse and ran with his precious bundle cradled in his arms. He took the steps three at a time and burst through the door. He nearly ran over Euan MacPherson.

  “Mackintosh? Ye do ken how to knock, do ye not?”

  “Where be my sister?”

  “The laird’s wife be right here, brother.”

  Annie, ripe with child, stood inside the great hall.

  “Be yer hunt triumphant?”

  “We need yer aid.” Connor would beg if necessary. He could not lose Kasey now.

  She nodded toward his bundle. “Did ye bring me a gift?”

  “This gift be mine, milady.” Connor revealed Kasey’s face.

  Annie rushed to his side and felt Kasey’s brow. “Take her
abovestairs to the second bedchamber on the left. Euan, my love, please have the tub and buckets of warm water sent there and send for Maggie. I shall need her help.”

  Euan glared at Connor, then turned a softer face to his wife. “Slow down lest ye harm yerself or our babe.”

  “I love ye and our bairn as much as life itself.” Annie pecked her husband’s cheek. “I promise I shall only oversee the lady’s care.”

  She glanced around. Her brother had not moved. “Be ye deaf? Get her abovestairs!”

  Connor ran toward the stairs as Maggie ran down.

  “I heard the fuss. Be it yer time, milady?”

  “Nay, Maggie. Another matter needs our attention. Please take my potions up to the second bedchamber. She needs vervain—”

  “Nay!”

  Connor spun toward the two other voices that had joined his protest. Gavin paused in the corridor. Broderick called from the doorway.

  Annie’s gaze darted between them. “It be the best for fever.”

  “Ye must find another remedy, sister.”

  Connor nodded at Gavin, then ascended the stairs two at a time. “All will be well, now, Kasey. Annie be nearly as skilled as ye. She will rid ye of this fever. Fear not, my love.”

  He continued to ramble, more for his sake than hers, as they entered the chamber and crossed to the bed. He laid her on her back and sat by her side. Her whimper tore at his heart.

  She pressed her elbow into the tick, as if to rise up, but her strength gave out. She moaned when her back hit the pallet.

  Connor stroked her face, and when she tried again to sit up, he pressed her down. “Rest, Kasey.”

  A tear slid down her cheek. Her breathing hastened.

  Memories besieged him. Her body had tensed against his chest when she rode astride his mount. Both nights during her sleep, she quickly rolled off her back.

  He slid from the pallet and pulled her onto her side. Immediately her face relaxed, and within moments her breathing slowed.

  Why had his sister not yet arrived?

  He ran from the chamber, through the corridor, and down the stairs. He stopped four steps beyond where his sister pressed against the rails. “Can ye not move faster?”

  “No, we canna.” She rubbed her belly and looked over at her husband, “Euan, please keep Laird Mackintosh occupied. I willna tolerate him underfoot.”