A Templar's Gifts (12 page)

I
hadn't meant to. It just sort of happened. I'd never kissed a lass before, but it didn't seem to be something one could do wrong. Her lips were soft and warm, and she smelled of wood smoke and harvest. I didn't know if she had done any kissing before this, but she seemed fair good at it. My head was spinning and the world around was bright and filled with heat.

“Ahem.” The sound went off like a shout in my brain. I scrambled back, pushing Aine away. She gasped with a flare of anger.

An enormous gray hound bounded into the clearing, barking and circling us. His master was our mysterious speaker. He stood nearly six hands for sure, with a stout frame, bushy black beard, and piercing blue eyes. “What have we here, Bran? Two visitors to our lonely land. What am I to make o' this?”

I helped Aine to her feet, palming my dagger as she shielded his view of my body. He didn't look or sound a threat, but then I was no fair judge at the moment. The man came close, nearly within sniffing distance. I was at once affronted, for he eyed Aine as if he'd not seen one
of her kind for many a year. I was getting annoyed that men continually seemed obsessed by her.

“Who are ye, an' what d'ye mean, riling up my dog?” He had the look of someone unhinged, and made sharp, quick movements.

“Just travelers, lost on our way, sir. We mean ye no harm or disrespect.”

“Travelers?” he nearly shouted. “Travelers, ye say. Who but a spirit would travel here at the turn o' the season?”

“We got lost on our way. We were meant to arrive at my brother's long ago.” The lie tripped from my lips with little help from me at all.

“Hmmf,” he said, and I couldn't tell if he believed me or not. “We don't see much company, Bran an' I. Come along, then. Ye look as if a good meal would no' go amiss.”

His whistle cut the air and the dog immediately pulled from Aine, who he had been sniffing. His eyes darted from his master to her, seemingly torn as to who he wanted to stay with.

“Follow me. My hut's near. We'll set ye to right an' ye can tell me what goes on in the world.”

It seemed the best of ideas. Aine and I still didn't know which way was out. I grabbed her hand and sent a mental feel of caution her way. Immediately my head began to swim and pound.

“Don't do it,” she whispered harshly. “Avoid the power.”

I knew it, even at the time, but it did me no good. My reaching and pulling was second nature. I had to stop, though, and start paying attention. The nausea was already on me, and I was having trouble seeing through a fog that lightened and darkened as we walked.

We followed the bounding leaps of Bran and the great stride of his master out of the clearing, up and down several wooded slopes, and finally to the door of a hut that was surrounded by great beech trees.

This was where all similarity to what I had expected ended. Beyond the door was a direct contrast to the hard-edged mountain man we had met. Something hot and fragrant simmered over an enormous fire in the hearth. Spices wafted and herbs hung from the edges of the roof beam. A brilliant tapestry draped one full wall, and all around the space artistry was gathered. Pottery. Carvings. More tapestries. Golden statues and real books. The artful clutter decorated every available surface. Even an ornamented table, very much like one I had seen in the castle of Dover, stood in an alcove that you wouldn't have known was there from the outside.

On the table were parchment and quill, and someone — I had such trouble reconciling the mountain man with the idea of this someone — had been crafting a
journal entry some time before. Aine stared around her with a look of awe.

“Come in. Aye. Come in. Bran an' I have no' had company in a dog's age. Ha!” He shouted and laughed at nearly the same time. “A dog's age!”

I found myself perplexed by this large, loud man, but met his grin. He seemed to have about him a joy in living that was hard to suppress and oddly contagious.

“Hungry? I've the best venison stew in all the countryside,” he said.

“Aye. Fair starved,” said Aine, preventing any comment from me at all. This whole visit had me at odds. He was a strange sort.

“Sit ye down, then.” His voice was almost too loud in the space. After the broch and the quiet of the road, I was unnerved.

Aine had moved from my grasp to peel off her cloak, and the dizziness came on me twofold. “Is that sage I smell?” she asked, oblivious to my discomfort.

“Och, aye. Ye've a nose for the spices, lass?”

“My mam was a fiend for drying them, an' then dousing the food,” she replied.

“Dousing! Good Lord in heaven, lass. There'll be no dousing in the home o' Cornelius MacTavish. Chefs to the Laird o' the Isles we are. Skilled as sages in the art of fine eating. We were, anyway.” He poured off the
steaming, fragrant mix and my stomach rumbled. I took a stool by a table large enough to fit three comfortably and rested a moment, letting the sounds and smells roll over me, trying to settle my queasiness.

Bran hovered near Aine, his big brown gaze following her every movement, as did his owner. I couldn't put a finger on why the man stared until his words made it clear.

“Lord, lass, ye ‘mind me o' my daughter.” This time the words were said at a much more ear-friendly level, a pure whisper from this man. Loss and pain swirled around me. Aine moved quickly to my side and, as she dropped to the stool nearest, brushed my knees with her own. She had known, then. The respite gave me time to lock down what was left of my thin inner shielding.

“What happened to her?” Aine asked.

“Went home to the angels an' her blessed mother, near on a year ago. Ye gave us a bit o' a fright when ye appeared out o' nowhere. Bran here is still wambly. He knows yer no' Catriona, but he's reminded as am I.”

I wondered how he knew what the dog was thinking. Bran ambled over and lay at Aine's feet, never taking his eyes from her. I thought perhaps he was right. Mayhap it was living alone together that gave him the edge.

Cornelius stooped at a low trunk set against the wall and drew out a small portrait. It was as skillfully done as the ones I'd seen on the walls of Dover castle, and the
likeness to Aine was there in the hair and shape of the face.

“Where are ye from, lass?” he asked.

“My folk are from Eire, originally around County Cork. But I don't remember any o' it. I was only three when we moved to Scotia.”

“An' where be they now, that yer wandering about the world with yon rascal?” I didn't like his description of me — or his interest in Aine.

Her face fell and I felt the sudden surge of sadness hit her. I reached for her knee to comfort her and the sadness raised a notch. I pulled away as if I'd been scalded. Cornelius didn't seem to notice. “They've passed on with the rest o' my family,” Aine said, barely containing the grief inside her.

“I'm sorry, lass. I didn't mean to bring ye pain.” Aine looked down at her bowl, the sadness slipping back and forth between us. “Never ye mind, never ye mind. Ye're both welcome here for as long as ye need.” He smiled at her with a fondness I thought a bit misplaced. He didn't, after all, know Aine. Perhaps it was missing his daughter and wife that brought it on. He shrugged then and it was as if his whole body got into the act. “Och, well. Enough o' the old an' on to the new. What brings ye out into the middle o' nowhere?”

I answered as Aine seemed transfixed by her food. “We were traveling to meet family in —”

“Actually,” Aine broke in, “we seek a healer by the name o' Beaton. He was along with the men o' Robert the Bruce until quite recently. D'ye know the man?” She turned and looked directly at Cornelius. I was shocked and no little bit furious with her for not sticking to our story and for telling a stranger that we had been with the Bruce when he was no doubt going to be looking for us.

“Aye. Bertrand is a friend. There's no' much diversion in this bit o' the world, nor safe haven when ye're out an' about with nowhere to lay yer head. Bertrand has a gift with the herbs. We are of a kind.”

“An' when did ye see Bertrand last?” I asked.

“Och, no' for quite some time. Months,” he said. No help at all to us. He hadn't come this way.

“We've lost our bearings in these mountains, Cornelius. D'ye think ye an' Bran could show us the way out o' here?” Aine asked.

“Aye, o' course. But take yer time. Eat an' rest here the night,” he said.

Aine and I shared a look and I asked, “D'ye think we could buy a bit o' supplies before we leave? We've used all we came with.”

“There'll be no talk o' payment!” he nearly bellowed, taking me by surprise.” ‘Tis no' the Highland way!”

“No offense meant to ye, sir,” I stammered. “We didn't want to abuse yer hospitality.” He was an excitable
one. My inners were jumpy, with so very many emotions and explosions in so short a span of time.

“I'll fix ye up a parcel o' food. We've got more than enough for Bran an' I to go two winters.” Bran's head lifted the moment his master mentioned his name, his ears pricking with interest. “Lass, if yon pack is all ye have in the way o' clothing, help yerself to Catriona's. I could no' bring myself to get rid o' it. Good that someone uses it.”

I tucked into the stew that had lain neglected in my bowl while we spoke. Its flavors were strong on my tongue and welcome. Aine seemed to come to and took a mouthful sopped up by a bannock. “Lord, man, this is a bit o' heaven.” She smiled at me and I returned it.

“Thank ye for the compliment.” Cornelius gave a courtly bow that, at the same time was out of character, looked right on him as well, then crossed to a large wardrobe that stood in a corner.

“How d'ye know to bow that way?” I asked. “If I did it I'd tip over on my nose.”

“Years o' practice, laddie. My travels have taken me to many an odd place, to be sure.”

“This is wonderful,” Aine beamed, nodding toward her bowl. “How did ye do it?”

“Family secret, lass. An' unless ye want to marry Bran or I, we can't give it up.” His teasing brought light
to her eyes and reminded me of how few times I'd seen her smile since we'd met. Still, to have someone else make her smile tightened my guts.

Her happiness slid around inside me, and for some reason I remembered our kiss. Aine looked up at that moment and I felt my face go hot.

T
hroughout the early hours of evening, Bran followed Aine wherever she went: to the cupboard where Catriona's clothing was kept, to the outhouse where he sat dutifully while she did what was necessary, into the root cellar where Cornelius stored grain and vegetables, and back to the house where, behind a screen, she put on the dead girl's clothes.

“Tor, look!” She'd never used my shortened name before and I was just enjoying the soft way she said it, when she stepped from behind the screen. Of a sudden my tongue felt too big for my mouth. She was lovely.

The whole of the dress was pale green, and embroidered flowers of pink and yellow dotted the top. Boldly, she lifted her skirts and showed me fine stockings striped yellow and green. Cornelius had been outside and came
in as she was dancing about. His smile was pleased and sad at the same time.

“She was much like ye, lass. Lit up a room the moment she smiled.”

I'd never noticed it before, but now that he mentioned it I saw that it was true. I smiled at her and when she returned the smile, a faint pink tinged the usual white of her skin.

“There's a kertch an' apron there as well. Take them. They're yers.”

She drew them out and tucked her hair into a bit of material that matched the skirt. “They're lovely,” she said. “Are ye sure? I've never had anything half so wonderful.”

“Aye, lass. It clashes with my beard.” He grinned and hefted a pack heavily onto the table. “Just a few more things.”

“That's for us?” I asked, astounded. “But ye don't even know us!”

He met my eyes squarely. “I know good when I see it. It's just Highland hospitality, as I said before. At the moment I've more than enough. It's only right to share.” A look of concern crossed Cornelius's face just then. “Tormod, yer looking a bit on the peaked side.”

“I'm all right.” Thankfully nothing had gone amiss since we'd been here.

“Well, lay in for a good night's rest and maybe a bit o' yer color will return.”

Nothing sounded better. As we sat around the fire, my eyes had begun to drag downward. I had my plaid tucked up around my ears, and Cornelius had given us each a warm blanket. The hut was not immune to the cold wind whipping beyond the stone of its walls, but the fire did much to heat the place.

“Ye're both fit to drop. Why don't ye go on, then? Ye can have the trundle, lass. 'Twas Catriona's. Tormod, there's a second pallet in my room ye're welcome to.”

My body stiffened. I had not spent a night without contact from Aine since I'd met her. Her worry slid through my mind as strong as my own. “If ye don't mind, I'll just lay down here, near the fire,” I said.

Cornelius's look passed over me then. “Tormod, what are yer intentions toward yonder lass?”

The question startled me. “What?”

“Well, it's no' proper to be roaming about together, alone or unattended. I ask o' yer intentions.” He was not my da, but he was somebody's da, and he had taken a fatherly attitude toward Aine.

“I have no intentions at all toward her,” I sputtered. Aine looked over quickly, her face dipping toward red, but instead of her usual threat of curled knuckles, she turned ahead again and only a stiff back and swirl of hurt gave any hint of her thoughts. I hurried to explain. “I'm to be a Knight Templar. The Order is chaste.”

“Still,” he prodded, “ye're not a knight as yet.” He was obviously remembering the kiss and wondering, no doubt, if I should be left alone in the room with her. My face flamed. “I ask if ye're honorable.”

It was embarrassing to have to defend my character. “I am. I've no untoward thought o' the lass. I've no thoughts about her one way or another.” In my bumbling manner I was far from gracious. Aine's jolt of anger ripped through my senses and I had to hold my head to keep it from tumbling from my body. Still, she did not turn around. Why was she so angry? I hadn't said anything bad. This was all too much. I felt so horrid, it made no sense. I just wanted to sleep beside her. My breath was growing short and my eyes were starting to blur. Lord, no! Not here!

Riders raced away along the shore. Flames filled the night sky. Our boat was engulfed. Da and his men rushed the waves but it was too late.

Da!
I shouted, trying to reach him.

The world lurched. Aine was crouched over me, and her anger had turned to fear. Her hands were on my chest, but it did little to ease my agitation. She did not hum, I knew, because Cornelius was there. “We have to leave,” I said urgently.

“Lad, ye need to rest,” said Cornelius. “Ye're in a bad way.”

I had to speak to Aine, make her understand. I sent a small push.
Aine,
I tried.

“Tormod,” she gasped, “ye know ye can't do that!”

Heat slammed my mind, shutting out everything but the pain in my temples. I cried out as the sudden jags ripped through me.

“Lass, I'm worried.” Cornelius's face was a mask of concern. “This is beyond the skills of the folk here about.”

“We have to find this Beaton,” Aine said. “D'ye have any idea where he might be?”

I could hear them speaking but my mind would not calm. The wind blew hard in my ears. The earth pressed solid at my back. Another vision was coming. Lord, no. I couldn't take any more.

A gown of silken blue. Cloak of white. Curls tucked tight in a braided crown around her head. Aine's hand in the crook of Cornelius's arm.

“Tormod! Please listen to me. Ye must let it go.” Aine was beside herself. I felt the weight of her body and the despair in her heart. I was back. I could move.

“I'm all right, Aine.” I rested my hand on the back of her head. I was as weak as a newborn. “I have to go home. Right away,” I said, barely able to speak.

“We will, Tormod. Tomorrow. Cornelius will lead us toward the shore,” she said. “Ye scared the very devil
out o' me. I don't know how much more either o' us can take.” She looked up, her eyes glistening and red. Cornelius was beside her, and Bran took the moment to lick her cheeks. She laughed and pushed him away. “I'm no' the one who is ill, Bran.” She squeezed me tight. “Tormod, promise me ye'll stop.”

I knew she meant using the power, but Cornelius didn't. “Lass, he's no' well. He canno' keep himself from the attack.”

I needed to get Aine alone to tell her what I'd seen. I could no longer think only of myself. I'd brought the trouble home, and left my family to fend for themselves. It was folly to have run in the first place, but what of the vision of Aine? She was with Cornelius. Did that mean I should leave her behind?

She sat up and the break in contact made the bile roil in my gut. No, not yet. I couldn't give her up yet. I reached for her hand, and she helped me over to the pallet. Her touch righted my world once again.

“I'll just sleep a bit now, if ye don't mind,” I murmured. Aine sat by my side with her hand on my arm. Her touch helped and I let myself drift. It was the last I knew of the day.