“Just why are ye here?” she asked as she pulled a soft rag from a pocket in her skirts and used the water from the well’s bucket to wash her face.
“Would ye believe me if I said I missed ye?” He smiled at the way she rolled her eyes. “I did. Howbeit, I also felt ye should ken that Duncairn has a new cook. Ye were right. When I took the time to notice who didnae eat in the great hall, then followed them, I found a cook. ’Tis Sorcha, Colin the shepherd’s eldest daughter. She and her family consider it quite an honor I have given her.”
“Oh, aye, it is.” Leaning against the side of the well, Rose idly wiped her hands and neck with the wet cloth.
“Her sister will help.” He stepped closer, placing a hand on the rim of the well to either side of her and lightly caging her. “I offered Meghan several other places, but she didnae want them. Didnae seem to care that she had been replaced, either.”
“Does she think she can just live at Duncairn and nay work at all?”
“Nay. She has gone to work at the alehouse.” He slowly smiled at her shock. “It seems Meghan does have one skill. As Sorcha told me, the lass spends more time on her back than a dead beetle.” He grinned when she laughed. “Sorcha feels Meghan intends to gain a few coins now for what she oft gave away for little or naught.”
“Oh, dear. Grizel willnae be pleased. So, ye came to tell me my plan worked and that I dinnae need to cook your meals again.” Her last word ended on a gasp as he moved closer until their bodies touched and began to kiss her throat. “Adair.”
“ ’Tis but a wee kiss I seek. One to show ye how verra grateful I am that ye didnae let me starve.”
Even as she opened her mouth to inform him that a simple thank ye would do, he kissed her. Rose rapidly lost the will to object, as well as the ability to think of any of the very many reasons why she should push him away. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss.
“Weel, this must be the new laird then.”
The sound of her aunt’s cheerful voice startled Rose so much that she suspected she would have tumbled back into the well if Adair had not kept such a tight grip on her. She quickly eluded his grasp to stand beside him. As she lowered her skirts and brushed them off, she introduced Adair to her aunt.
“ ’Tis good that Rose is nay longer alone in the cottage,” Adair said, idly deciding that the Keith women aged well, for Mary Keith was still a fine figure of a woman.
“Oh, Rose was ne’er really alone here,” murmured Mary.
Adair decided to ignore that and looked at Meg, who stood next to Mary. “I met your father in the village, lass, and since I was coming here, he asked me to tell ye to come along home now. He is sorry he was away longer than he had planned, but he is weel.” He smiled faintly as Meg babbled out her gratitude for everything to the two Keith women, then raced off.
“She was beginning to fret o’er him,” said Rose.
“He feared she might have. He also wished me to convey his deep thanks for watching o’er her whilst he was gone.”
“She was far more help than hindrance.”
Mary nodded. “She has a true feeling for the garden.”
“ ’Tis one of the best gardens I have e’er seen,” Adair said. “Holding both beauty and purpose.”
“And ever so much more. Cannae ye feel none of it, laddie?”
Rose sighed, realizing that her aunt intended to bludgeon Adair with all manner of talk about magic. It was, perhaps, not such a bad thing to be blunt, to speak the truth as one saw it, be it good or bad. She just wished her aunt had warned her that she was going for the throat. Since she was still reeling from the effects of Adair’s kiss, Rose did not particularly feel like getting into an argument. She was not sure her aunt ought to be calling the laird laddie, either.
“ ’Tis a verra peaceful place to visit.” Adair began to suspect that Rose’s aunt was about to make Rose look like a complete nonbeliever.
“Stubborn, stubborn lad. Your fither ne’er cared one way or t’other. But, ye do, dinnae ye?”
“My father wasnae so verra fond of the trouble it all caused.”
“He kenned full weel that the trouble didnae come from Rose Cottage.”
Adair glanced at Rose and caught her watching him with the glint of sadness in her fine eyes. If he had made any progress at all with Rose in getting her to cast aside all this foolishness about magic, Mary Keith would steal it all away. That made him angry. He decided he should leave, but not before he got this stubborn woman to see the risks she was taking, that she was endangering herself and her niece.
“Where the trouble has started doesnae make a great deal of difference when it kicks in your door,” he snapped.
“ ’Tis good that ye worry on the lass’s weel-being.”
Rose’s aunt was one of those women who could make a man crave the oblivion of drunkenness, Adair decided. “Ye refuse to see reason.”
“Oh, I often see reason.” Mary smiled faintly. “Too often, ’tis said. The trouble here is that ye refuse to accept that there are some things that defy reason, things that one cannae always explain. I dare ye to tell me that ye dinnae feel the wonder of this place or taste it in the food. ’Tis a magic place, my braw laddie, and ye can scowl, mutter, curse, and growl all ye like, it willnae change that fact.”
“To speak of magic and fact together is foolishness. ’Tis also foolish to speak of magic at all. It stirs fears, Mistress Keith. Dark, violent fears. If ye continue to spit in the eye of that truth, it could cost ye verra dearly.”
“The Keith women of Rose Cottage have faced trouble before and won.”
“Weel enough, then. Ye keep talking and bring that trouble down upon your heads. Just dinnae expect me to put out the fire after they set the kindling about your wee feet.”
As she watched Adair stride out of the garden, his anger clearly visible in every lean line of his body, Rose had to bite her tongue to stop herself from calling him back. She realized how dangerously close she was to giving up her heritage, a large part of herself, just to make him happy. It was not good or wise to want a man so much that she was willing to consider changing all she was. When she caught her aunt watching her with concern and sympathy, Rose suspected she looked as if she was about to burst into tears at any moment. She certainly felt inclined to do so.
“Weel, that rather settles that, doesnae it?” she murmured.
“Nay, child, that was just an argument,” said Mary.
“He was verra angry, Aunt.”
“Aye, and I suspect he will get angry a few more times ’ere he comes to his senses. That is a stubborn mon. He kens the food from this garden has helped heal his heart and loosen the grip of the dark memories he brought back from France, but he willnae call it magic.”
“How did ye ken about his troubled soul?”
“The scars are still there to see, lass. ’Twill be awhile ’ere he is completely free, but he can sleep now, I suspect. And he can do that because of the food from this garden and he kens it weel.”
“But doesnae wish it to be magic.”
“He will, lass. He will.”
“Mayhap. As ye say, he is a verra stubborn mon.” She sighed. “I think I will go for a walk.”
“A walk can be verra good for hard thinking. Where do ye go?”
“Down to the river that marks the eastern boundary. I think I might e’en walk into it.”
“What?”
Rose smiled faintly and shook her head. “Nay for any dark reasons, but because ’tis a hot day and I am dirty.”
“Ah, of course.” Mary followed her out of the garden. “Dinnae be gone too long or I shall worry.”
“Duncairn is a peaceful place, Aunt. I shall be safe.”
Mary shrugged. “E’en peaceful places have their dangers.”
It was not until she had been walking for a few moments that Rose began to wonder if her aunt had sensed something to prompt that subtle warning. She shook her head and continued on. It might not be somethin
g her aunt had ever done at her home, but Rose had often walked alone throughout Duncairn and had never come to harm. Duncairn was, she suddenly realized, unusually peaceful. Mayhap the fairies had something to do with that, too, she mused with a smile.
She grimaced when she had to admit that she truly did believe in all the magic of Rose Cottage. Despite her moments of trying to ignore it all because she so badly wished to be just like everyone else, she had always believed. As a child she had even danced in the garden with the fairy lights.
Of course, she had had few children to play with, Rose thought. The mothers of Duncairn were reluctant to let their children get too close to the ladies of Rose Cottage. She inwardly cursed. That thought tasted of resentment, and she had to admit that such feelings had gained strength in her over the years. It was true that the garden was a burden at times, a weighty responsibility, but it was also a blessing, and one the Keith women had willingly shared with the people of Duncairn. If she was going to resent anything, she decided, it should be the ignorance and ungratefulness of those in Duncairn.
It felt better to have faced that truth about herself, but Rose doubted anything could make her feel better about the problems between herself and Adair. Even if she tossed aside all other doubts about their relationship, there was still the magic to contend with. Adair’s angry response to her aunt’s talk of the garden and its wonders told Rose that Adair’s uneasiness about that magic went deeper than a simple concern for her safety.
Once at the river, she sat down to take off her shoes. Rose stood up, tucked up her skirts, and cautiously dipped her toes into the water. It was a lot colder than she had anticipated, but she decided a little wade would probably feel very nice.
She had barely gotten her feet wet when someone grabbed her braid and yanked her back so forcefully, she felt as if she was about to be snatched bald. Her first reaction was to reach for the braid to try and free it or, at least, grab enough of it to try and ease the pain in her scalp. As she stumbled around, she came face-to-face with her attacker.
Rose decided that, in a strange way, being found alone by Geordie was almost to be expected. The day had begun badly and was about to end very badly indeed. Despite the tears slipping from her eyes due to the pain he had caused her, she glared at him.
“Do ye ne’er stay at home to help your poor father?” she snapped, and almost smiled at his shock, for he could not have expected her to simply scold him for sloth.
“I kenned that, if I waited long enough, I would find ye alone,” he said.
“How verra clever ye are. Tell me, my clever brute, just how do ye intend to explain rape? Dinnae think I willnae cry this crime to the verra rooftops.”
“Wheesht, do ye think that will gain ye anything? I will just say that ye bewitched me, that I was caught in some spell. Mistress Kerr will hasten to support me.”
There was a chilling truth to that, but Rose fought to ignore it. It could make her lose some of her strength. She kicked out at him and nearly caught him square in the groin. He yowled and then cursed her as he tossed her to the ground. Rose managed to get out of his way when he tried to pin her down with his brawny body, but she did not escape completely.
As she wrestled with Geordie, Rose found herself thinking of Adair. She did wish he would ride to the rescue, like some gallant knight in a minstrel’s tale, but knew the chances of that were very slim. Rose also thought of how, if Geordie got what he was after, she would have only a horror to recall concerning her first time with a man and not the loving interlude she might have enjoyed with Adair.
Chapter 8
Reining in several yards before the gates of Duncairn, Adair sighed. His anger had faded. He had not handled himself well in the confrontation with Rose’s aunt. The woman had believed in the tales of the garden her whole life, as had Rose. It was not reasonable of him to expect such long-held beliefs, wrongheaded as they were, to be cast aside just because he said they should be. Weaning Rose away from the grip of those tales and fancies was going to take time and patience. He had shown very little of the latter in the garden.
Adair decided an apology was in order. He turned his mount and started to ride back to Rose Cottage. If nothing else, he had intended to spend some time with Rose, and he would not let an argument with her stubborn aunt rob him of that.
As he rode up to the cottage, he was surprised to find Iain of Syke Farm standing by the garden gate talking to Mary. “Greetings, Iain. I hadnae expected to find ye here.”
“Came to fetch some herbs,” the man replied.
“Ah.” Adair bowed slightly to Mary. “I apologize for my earlier display of anger.”
“Nay need, laddie,” Mary said. “I have been kenned to stir up a temper or two.”
Although he was sure Iain was suppressing a laugh, Adair was more interested in seeing Rose than trying to discern what was or was not going on between her aunt and Iain. “I was hoping to speak to Rose.”
“She went for a walk down to the river.”
“Alone?”
“Aye. She told me she often does it and that ’tis safe.”
“No place is that safe,” muttered Adair as he turned his mount and rode off to the river.
“That lad is verra concerned about my Rose,” murmured Mary as she watched Adair ride away.
“Aye,” agreed Iain. “He may nay ken it, but I am thinking there will be a wedding atween those two. ”
“There will be. And why did ye tell him ye were here for some herbs? Ye arenae ashamed of kenning me, are ye?”
“Nay. I just had me the sudden thought that, for a wee while, it might serve us weel if people dinnae ken that ye have an ally here and there.”
“Ah, ye may be right.” She took one last look in the direction Adair had gone, then shrugged. “They will be fine. I must try nay to poke my nose in there too much. He has to sort out his concerns on his own.”
“Aye. ’Tis always best to let a mon think he got to the place ye wanted him to be all on his own.” Iain grinned when Mary just laughed.
Adair heard the trouble before he saw it. A feminine screech of fury and fear firmly caught his attention. What roused his concern and fear was that it had come from the river, where Rose had gone. He kicked his mount into a slightly faster speed, searching the area as he rode. There was no sign of any other people than the two he could now hear, so that meant that this was a private squabble.
When he cleared a line of trees and saw what was happening, he drew to a halt. Shock and a rapidly building rage held him still for the barest moment as he struggled to bring both feelings under control. Then Geordie got Rose pinned firmly beneath him, and Adair decided he would be showing more than enough control by not drawing his sword and killing the man on the spot.
He dismounted, walked over to the pair, and grabbed Geordie under the arms. He had a brief glimpse of Rose’s eyes, looking huge in her pale face, as he tossed Geordie to the side. Even as he reached out a hand to Rose, she was already scrambling to her feet.
“Ye are unhurt?” he asked Rose.
She nodded, annoyed at her sudden attack of mute shock. There was such fury evident in Adair’s face, however, she was not surprised at the tickle of fear she felt. When Geordie groaned, Adair turned and moved toward the man. Rose took several long, deep breaths, fighting to gain control over her confused emotions. There was a good chance she would need all her wits about her to stop a killing.
“Ye dare to attack a woman on my lands?” Adair asked as a white-faced Geordie struggled to his feet.
“She bewitched me!” Geordie said, his voice cracking with fear. “I couldnae help myself, laird.”
Adair felt Rose move nearer and knew he had to restrain himself. Taking a deep breath, he punched Geordie in the mouth, sending the burly man back to the ground. He really wanted to beat the man within an inch of his life but had never believed in such violence. Now, however, he had a better understanding of the feelings that might cause a man to act so brutally.
&n
bsp; “Take yourself home. I will deal with ye later. ’Tis best if I dinnae do so now. I dinnae think it for the best if I go about killing my own people, nay matter how much one or two of them might deserve it,” he added in a calm voice and watched Geordie stumble off toward the village.
“I wouldnae have thought Geordie could move so fast,” Rose murmured, then tensed when Adair turned to face her. He still looked angry.
“Do ye have no sense at all?” he snapped. “Ye shouldnae walk about all alone. Nay, especially not when ye have suffered an attack by that swine once already. Duncairn is a lot safer than many another place, but nowhere is truly safe for a lass wandering about on her own.”
The whole time he scolded her, he gently moved her closer to the stream. He knelt, tugged her down beside him, and tugging off his shirt, used it to bathe her face and hands. Rose suspected she ought to protest being spoken to and treated like a terrified child, but she was finding it a little difficult to think straight. She could not tear her eyes from that broad, dark chest. Adair was all smooth skin and taut muscle.
She gave in to the urge to touch him and, reaching out, ran her fingers over a jagged scar on his right side. “Ye didnae come home from France completely untouched, did ye?”
“Nay.” He felt himself tremble beneath her touch and grabbed her hand. “I gained several scars. Nay all of them are from battle. I was caught once by the enemy. They were nay kind. Lost two friends there to torture ’ere I and three others escaped.”
“How sad. ’Tis sad enough to have young men die in battle, but to have a precious life lost to men whom ye are nay e’en able to fight is verra sad indeed.”
Adair was astonished that he had told her all of that. He had been forced to relate a few tales about his years in France, but the time he and five others had spent eight months in a dark hole, their days filled with pain and humiliation, was one tale he had not told anyone. Yet, suddenly, he blurted it out to Rose. It was odd behavior on his part and he was not comfortable with it.
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