Every Heart Has Its Day (13 page)

Her feet dragged, her shoulders slumped, and her head hung low. She had become the mouse she once disparaged.

And why in blazes did she not look him in the eyes?

He would have his answers soon enough if he had to snatch them from her delicous lips.

“Mi-Connor?”

Dillon’s timing could not have been better. Staring at her mouth had warmed his blood. “She sleeps. Keep yer voice low.”

“Would ye like me to ride ahead?”

“Nay, brother. Ye have done enough. Send Malcolm and Robert to find a place for the night.”

“Aye, milord.”

Connor raised a brow. “Need I remind ye?”

“Nay, Connor, though I dinna agree with yer order.”

“I asked not for yer opinion.”

A few hours later, Connor woke Kasey. “Milady, we be stopping for the night.”

She yawned and rubbed her eyes.

He slid her from his lap and dismounted, but kept a hand on her lower back to keep her from falling off his stallion.

She looked around.

Connor followed her gaze to the last sliver of sun above the mountain. The Grant holding had been but a pair of hours from whence the siege took place. Had that been their true destination, they would have arrived long before dusk.

Anger flashed in her eyes. He welcomed the forthcoming reproof, but she pinched her lips, and sorrow filled her eyes.

Her grief cut him to the quick. He lifted her from the saddle and eased her to the ground.

She leaned into his chest. He wished her action had come from care, but knew the ride had weakened her legs. Once she steadied and straightened, he tilted up her chin. Her gaze remained on his chest.

“Ye love yer betrothed?” He had not intended his question to come out as an accusation. Though the king’s betrothal would make her his wife, he wanted her heart as well.

The tears on her cheeks halved his heart.

He led her to a boulder and indicated she should sit. As he retrieved her dorlach, he ordered some men to make camp, others to hunt, and one to make ready a suitable pallet for the lady.

Kasey cleared her throat.

“Be ye ill, milady?”

“I think a fire be not wise.”

“Explain.”

She kicked a pebble back and forth between her feet.

“Milady?” His impatience grew with every silent moment. “Speak yer mind, lass.”

“A fire would lead the remaining cutthroat to yer camp.”

“My men searched the area afore we left and found no others.”

“Mayhap he slithered under a rock.”

Randall’s face flashed in Connor’s mind. He fisted his hands at his side. “Ye ken who set upon yer escort?”

Kasey shrugged and rose.

He grabbed her hand before she could walk away. He turned the palm up and glared at the rough skin beneath his thumb. “I order ye to answer me.”

She tore from his grasp and clutched her hands behind her.

Connor grinned. Mayhap he had pushed her far enough to get a true reaction.

She sighed. “If ye intend to keep me in yer midst, ye must advise yer men to be alert. My life be not worth theirs.” She took her dorlach from his hand. “I wish a moment of privacy.”

He nodded. She had gained five paces when he called, “Dinna think to run, Kasey. If ye do, I shall hunt ye down.”

After she disappeared through the bushes, he called his men to his side. He did not need to remind them to stay alert. Vigilance came as naturally as breath. “We shall celebrate our success on the morrow. This night, we eat what we have. Dillon, see to the lady’s comfort. Malcolm, tend the horses. Gavin, stay with me. The rest of ye eat and rest. Ye will be standing guard this night.”

Connor waited for the others to leave. “She refuses to talk.”

“She has no idea who ye be. Dinna make this more difficult than necessary.”

“She loves another.”

“Ye be wrong, brother. Evonne told ye she awaited Hunter.”

“Mayhap Kasey dinna take yer wife into her confidence.”

“Mayhap yer conscience be not pleased with this ruse.”

“I have no reason to feel guilty. If she would look into my eyes, she would see Hunter.” Connor glared at his brother. “Have ye seen her?”

“She be not half the woman ye knew.”

“How can I understand the changes when she refuses to speak?”

Gavin turned around and called, “Dillon, yer brother wishes a word with ye.”

****

Kasey sat on a rock and envied the stream before her. The steady rhythm of rushing water provided music. The vestiges of the waning sun danced on the surface. She wished she could feel so carefree.

As she removed her boots and hose, she focused on the daggers. She knew her laird detested her, but she did not believe his hatred ran so deep he would order her death. Randall would not dare take such a decision into his hands. Or would he? All her life he had claimed she would be his wife. Mayhap he decided if he could not have her, no one would.

She stuck her feet into the river and considered what to tell her captor of Randall. The snake may have continued on to the Grant holding to weave a tale about her capture. If Agatha’s gossip rang true, Grant had paid a considerable sum for her hand. At this moment his army could be seeking her.

How could she explain the day’s events without looking like a motley? I believe my laird ordered my death after he sold me to Laird Grant.

Pride be damned. She owed her captor and his men a measure of honesty.

She reached into her dorlach and removed a cloth and soap. Certain no one had followed her, she tore off her bloodstained garments and ran into the stream where she scrubbed away the vestiges of the siege.

Leaves fluttered on the bushes near the shore. Perhaps the breeze, not man nor animal, caused the movement. To be safe, she covered her nakedness with her hands and ran into the bushes next to her sack. She reached through the twigs and grabbed clean chemises and a kirtle. After drying her body with one rail, she donned the other and her pale blue gown.

As she packed her belongings, her gaze landed on the chemise and kirtle she had doffed. Wishing she could as easily bid her cowardice farewell, she heaved the garments into the river.

She grabbed her dorlach and started back to the camp.

“Milady, I be on my way to get ye.”

“I be not so stupid to think I could outrun men on horseback, Dillon.”

“I only wished to invite ye to sup.”

She immediately regretted snarling.

He led her to a stump and handed her a slab of cheese. Other hands offered her dried meat, bread, and apples. She thanked them and ate a bit of each offering.

“We have plenty more, milady.”

“Thank ye, but I have eaten more than enough.”

“Ye have eaten next to naught. No wonder ye be as thin as a willow.”

“I be too weary to chew.”

Her captor grunted. “Dillon, show her to the clearing.”

“This way, milady.” He picked up an apple and her dorlach.

She nodded in the men’s direction and followed Dillon.

“I believe ye will like yer pallet. It be not as soft as a feather tick, but the pile of grass and leaves should cushion the ground. I dinna have an extra plaid, so I left the mare’s saddle blanket for a cover. I be sorry it smells like horse.”

She shrugged. “’Twill keep me warm.”

He had chosen a small clearing surrounded by a wall of bushes. In the center lay a pile of leaves as high as her knees. Her throat tightened. A long while had passed since anyone had gone to such extremes for her.

“I may have overdone it. If ye roll around a bit, ye can pack the bedding afore ye sleep.”

“I thank ye.”

Before taking his leave, he handed her an apple. “Ye may get hungry during the night.”

She unfolded the horse blanket, flung its width over her pallet, and let the cloth drift down to cover the bedding. White hairs flew up to tickle her nose. She lay on her side, pulled her arisaide over her, and tucked her hands beneath her dorlach, which cushioned her head.

The snap of a twig awakened her. Stars still gleamed through the branch canopy. Footfalls, crunching dead leaves, drew closer. She slitted her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart.

A form knelt by her side. She did not move until a hand reached toward her. She bolted up, grabbed the intruder’s hair, and pressed her dagger to his throat.

Chapter Thirteen

“We must agree upon a better greeting. I find a blade at my throat a wee bit rude.”

Her captor’s deep, quiet gibe did little to allay her fears. She did not ken his intentions and would allow him no liberties. She kept the dagger poised. “Why have ye woken me?”

“Yer teeth chatter louder than a woodpecker. I brought ye my cloak.”

Her gaze traveled from his neck to his hands. She lay back, but kept the dagger in her hand by her side.

“We ride hard come morn. I tolerate no one falling off his horse.”

She tightened her hold on the dirk when he reached toward her head.

He sat, then twisted the blade from her grasp.

Her hand flew under her dorlach, ready to grasp the remaining dagger. A snap, followed by the smell of apple stopped her.

“Would ye care for a slice?”

She had just threatened the man’s life, and he offered her a slice of fruit? She sat up and took the piece he held out.

“Why does the lady of the manor sleep with daggers at hand?”

She swallowed and wiped juice from her chin. “Though these trees offer the privacy of a bedchamber, they be not as secure as the walls of a keep.”

“Ye need not fear, Kasey. Ye be safe now.”

She shoved another slice of apple into her mouth and concentrated on chewing. Too often sweet promises had as much substance as fog. She dared not believe.

Especially from a man who had already broken his word. Had he not promised to take her to the Grant holding? And who was he? Where did he plan to take her and why?

He chuckled.

She glared at his chin. “Agin ye laugh at me?”

“Questions spin behind yer eyes like water turns a millstone. What would ye like to know?”

She shook her head. Too many beatings had stilled her tongue.

He clenched his jaw. “Ye will speak, milady.”

She chose a safer path. “Thank ye for yer timely intervention. I owe ye my life.”

“We be even, Lady Cameron.” He thrust the fruit into her hand, stabbed her dagger into the ground, and stalked into the darkness.

Too tired to give his words proper attention, she surrendered to slumber’s lure.

****

Red claws dragged away remnants of night. Kasey stretched out her arms and vowed to embrace whatever this day brought.

She twisted to ease the soreness in her back and gasped. Her captor slept against a nearby tree. She risked a glance around the clearing. With no one else nearby, what harm could come from looking him over?

This man’s hair color reminded her of Hunter, but while Hunter’s wavy hair had barely touched his nape, her captor’s mane hung straight, far past his shoulders. No wrinkles marred Hunter’s face, but crevices carved this man’s cheeks and brow. The white whiskers sprinkled throughout his beard proved him much older, too. While Hunter had been a large man, this man’s tunic barely contained his arms and chest.

She frowned. Though she had dreamt Hunter had come for her, this man could not be him. She could sense Hunter’s presence before she saw or heard his approach. She had no such connection to her captor.

Yet something about him niggled at her. If only she could see his eyes. Her gaze again drifted over his body. She should not provoke this hairy mountain. The way he had tossed her about proved the strength beneath his bulk.

“Ye need not rouse so early, milady.”

She ducked her head and prayed he did not see the heat rise to her cheeks. “I be accustomed to rising afore the sun.”

“Why? Be the servants at yer holding so unskilled they needed yer counsel to complete their daily tasks?”

“The manor’s limited wealth allows the employ of few. Be it not yer lady’s duty to help?”

His movements graceful despite his immensity, he sat by her side. He took her hand and turned it over. “The thickness of these calluses tells me ye did more than assist.”

He released her hand. “Members of my clan work for the good of the whole, to express gratitude for the good life provided by their laird. I have found only abusive lairds need compensate their people. Dare ye refute my words?” He urged up her chin.

His touch heated her like lightning ignited a droughty forest. Detesting her body’s betrayal, she snatched up her dorlach and strode toward the river.

After she completed her morning ablutions, she spied bushes laden with ripe berries. Certain her rescuers might enjoy some to break their fast, she crawled around and picked the fruit.

Dillon greeted her on his way toward the river. From his armful of vessels, she guessed he had the task of acquiring water for the day’s ride. Then she nodded a greeting to the three men who tended the horses.

At the camp her captor spoke with another man. Mayhap one of them could find a vessel for the berries she cradled in her skirt. She waited for a pause in their discussion.

The bushes behind her captor rustled despite the stilled air. Six men comprised this escort, and none of the others could have circled back so quickly.

She charged toward her captor. As she reached him, flame shot through her. She stumbled into him.

He caught her before she fell. “Ye used to be more graceful, milady.”

Kasey gritted her teeth and pointed to the arrow piercing her upper arm. “Mayhap this has affected my balance.”

His howl could have scared the fur off a wolf.

Connor carried her to a boulder. Five warriors, swords drawn, immediately surrounded her.

She gasped when he lifted her skirts and removed a dagger.

“Tend the lady.”

Broken twigs and trodden brush left a trail a blind man could follow. His pace matched the beating of his heart.

Mayhap he slithered under a rock
.

Dammit. Kasey implied that Randall had followed. Connor’s failure to listen more closely had led to her injury. He hungered for this chance to avenge all of Randall’s wrongs.

The distance between the footfalls lessened. He slowed his steps. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end when the trail disappeared.

Randall had once before attacked from the rear. Connor would not repeat that mistake. He held his breath and listened. The brush behind him rustled. He wheeled and caught the hand before the dagger touched his chest.

“We meet agin.” Connor twisted his enemy’s wrist until the dagger fell from his grasp. “Be ye afraid, Randall?”

“I fear no fool, Mackintosh.”

“Then ye best fear me.” Connor would snap the man’s neck, but he decided to make him suffer. He released him and drove his fist into Randall’s stomach.

“She be not worth yer time now.” Cameron crawled to his feet. “My clansmen and I have often enjoyed her charms.”

“Ye think I would believe a lying bastard?”

“I think ye dead.” Randall drew his sword and lunged.

Connor sidestepped the blade as he unsheathed his own.

Metal clanged, sparks rained as one sword blocked the other. Mackintosh locked hilts with Cameron. Connor shoved Randall with strength borne of fury. Randall stumbled.

Connor’s parries and thrusts backed Randall into a tree trunk. “Ye have softened since we last met.” With a wrench of his weapon, Connor disarmed Randall.

He grabbed the snake’s tunic, then jabbed his blade into the ground. “Do ye wish yer death to be as slow and painful as that ye planned for the lady?”

Randall twisted and kicked. Connor rammed him against the tree. “Mayhap I shall make it quick and painful, so I have more time to undo the harm ye have meted.”

“Yer whore will never be whole.”

Connor’s free hand slid to his belt. “It be a shame ye will not see what my love will do. Ken that ye die by my hand and Kasey’s blade.”

****

Keen to verify his brothers had tended Kasey, Connor hurried back to camp.

Surrounded by the others, Gavin knelt by her side. “One of us must break the arrow.”

“Ye be the healer.” Dillon’s voice shook. “Ye do it.”

“I must hold her arm steady. Robert?”

“I canna hurt a woman.”

“Malcolm, ye be strong.”

“Dinna ply yer silver tongue, Gavin. I canna hurt a woman either,” he jabbed a finger in Kasey’s direction, “especially that woman.”

“Would someone please remove it before it sprouts into a tree?” She clenched her jaw. “Or mayhap ye wish to wait for it to grow wings and fly out on its own?”

Connor pierced the circle and glared at his men. “Did ye not hear my command?”

Robert shot to Gavin’s defense. “We ken the pain of an arrow pulled through flesh. We dinna wish to hurt the lady.”

“Ye believe she feels naught now?” Connor shoved Gavin aside. “Why dinna ye call out a warning? Do ye believe a mouse can move a mountain?”

Cradling her elbow, she silently stared past him.

Gavin patted his shoulder to show he had clean cloths ready. Connor nodded. He ran his hand along the length of her braid, then placed the silken plait in front of her uninjured shoulder. His hands trembled as he reached behind her to untie the laces of her gown.

Dreams of the day he would undo her kirtle had sweetened his sleep for many a year, but he had envisioned just he and Kasey sharing the wonders of each other’s love in the privacy of his chamber.

That day would come.

He took a deep breath and loosened the ties.

Kasey leaned forward. “What ye be doing?”

“Ye ken after we remove the arrow, we must press linens agin the wound to staunch the flow.”

“Wrap the cloth around my sleeve.”

Gavin shook his head. “It be wiser to—”

“Ye canna remove my gown.”

Connor rubbed his temples. He understood the rules of propriety, but to risk one’s health to adhere to them made no sense. “Cut off the sleeve.”

“I canna meander aboot with a bare arm.”

“Put on a fresh gown afore we ride.”

“I have but one more. Since each day brings spattered blood, I willna don my last until I arrive wherever ye take me.”

Though her quarrel may be good sign, Connor would waste no more time on trifle. He turned to Gavin. “Slice the sleeve, but leave the length.”

While Connor tied her laces, Gavin did as ordered. Connor asked, “Be ye ready?”

Her eyes glazed, then she nodded.

He pushed the shaft until the feathers touched the back of her arm, then snapped off the tip. He expected her to scream, but she did not flinch or utter a sound. As soon as he whisked the shaft from her arm, Gavin squeezed the wound between two cloths.

“Thank ye. If ye light a small fire, I can tend the wound.”

“My brother will see to ye.”

She snatched her dagger from Connor’s belt and held it out to Gavin.

“Ye think to sear the wounds, milady?”

She nodded.

“Searing leaves ugly scars and increases the chance of fever. It be safer to let them heal in their own time.”

Kasey shrugged.

Connor had enough. “He will tend yer wounds without searing. I find scars on my woman intolerable.”

Her eyes widened.

He smiled. She would not hold her tongue now. After a few moments of silence his grin faded.

Gavin tended her wounds, and his men fawned over her. He took heart that they accepted the woman who would be their lady, but how long would she need to embrace him?

****

Kasey’s eyelids felt heavier than ten pails of water, but sleep remained elusive. Each hoofbeat sent a shaft of pain through the arm bound to her chest and increased the roiling in her stomach.

Rather than dwell on her discomfort, she carefully considered her words. “The man who shot the arrow,” she paused to gather her courage. “Was he tall and stout with dark hair and darker eyes?”

“Bulky and black, aye, but I would call him squat.”

“Mayhap he stood somewhere atween a mouse and a mountain?”

“Aye.” He chuckled, then tensed and straightened in his saddle. “Did he take part in the siege?”

“I be sure. Dillon’s skill under siege surprised me.” Her mouth felt as dry as a field in a drought. “Rumor said he had no family, yet he called both ye and the man who tended me brother. Be ye kin?”

She waited a few moments for an answer. His lips remained a thin line. “Ye and yer men came to get him, dinna ye?”

“We retrieved all that be ours.”

“I dinna understand.”

“I ken many questions amble aboot behind those beautiful blue eyes. In time, milady, ye will learn the answers, but for now I beg yer patience and trust.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Many a year had passed without a single compliment, but his pretty words changed naught. Too many friends and kin had betrayed her. How could she give this stranger what he asked?

“Why would yer own clan attack ye?”