My Valiant Knight (31 page)
“Your family would protect ye, Keira. They would feel it their duty, their right, and willnae be pleased that ye denied them.”
Keira winced. “I ken it, but I will deal with it. I also had to decide what to do. Duncan pulled a vow from me and I had to think hard on how to fulfill it, and how much it might cost me to do so.”
“I ken it willnae be easy. Rauf is cunning and vicious. Yet ye swore to your husband ye would see to it that his people didnae suffer under Rauf’s rule if he failed to win the battle that night. He failed. He died that night, Keira, so your vow is much akin to one made at a mon’s deathbed. Ye have to do all ye can to fulfill it.” He kissed her cheek and started for the door. “I will see ye in the morning. Sleep weel.”
“Ye, too, Cousin.”
The moment he was gone, Keira sighed and sat down in the little chair next to Liam Cameron’s bed. Her cousin made it all sound so simple. She dearly wished it was. The vow she had made to her poor, ill-fated husband weighed heavily on her mind and heart. So did the fates of the people of Ardgleann. Duncan had cared deeply for his people, a mixed lot of gentle and somewhat odd souls. It distressed her to think of how they must be suffering under Rauf’s rule. She prayed for them every night, but she could not fully dispel the guilt she felt over running away. Although some of what Duncan had asked of her did not seem right, the people of Ardgleann could no longer wait for her to debate the moral complexities of it all, however. It was time, far past time, to do something.
She idly bathed Liam with a soft cloth and cool water. He did not really have a fever, but it seemed to make him rest more quietly. He was a strong man and she felt certain he would continue to recover. When he would be able to tend to himself, she had better have decided what to do about Ardgleann and Rauf. Once she knew why Liam had been hurt and was certain that no enemy hunted him still, she would leave him in the care of the monks and face her own destiny.
Keira felt an immediate pang at the thought of leaving the man and almost laughed at the absurdity of it. He was a mass of bruises and had barely said three words in as many days. She supposed that she felt some odd bond with him because she had been the one to find him. In truth, she had been drawn to him by a strange blend of dreams and compulsion. It had been a little frightening for, although similar experiences had occurred in the past, she had never seen things so clearly or felt as strongly. Even now she could not shake the feeling that there was more to it all than helping him recover from his injuries.
“Foolishness,” she muttered and shook her head as she patted him dry with a soft rag.
Perhaps she should send word to his people, she thought as she began to make a hearty broth to feed him when he woke again. From what her cousin had told her, Sir Liam’s kinsmen were more than capable of protecting him. Keira quickly discarded the idea for the same reason she had given her cousin when he had suggested sending for the Camerons. Sir Liam might not want that, might be reluctant to pull his family into whatever trouble he had gotten himself into. She could sympathize for, she, too, hesitated to involve her family in her own troubles.
That, too, was foolish, she suspected. She had done nothing wrong, had not caused the trouble or invited the danger. If one of her family was in such trouble, she would be ready and eager to ride to their side. Which is why they would hesitate to tell her about it, she suddenly thought and briefly grinned. It was instinctive to try to keep a loved one safe, she decided. When her family found out the truth, they would be angry, perhaps a little offended or hurt, but they would understand for they would know in their hearts that they would have done the very same thing.
And, she told herself as she sat down at the small table near the fire, if this man was as close to his family as her cousin implied, he would do the same. The last time she had seen her cousin Gillyanne, she had heard a few tales about the Camerons. Even though the tales had been told to amuse everyone, they had revealed that the Camerons were probably as close a family as her own. There was also Sir Liam’s manly pride to consider. It would undoubtedly bristle at the implication that he could not take care of himself. No, Keira decided, it was not a good idea to send for his people without his permission.
After a meal of bread, cheese, and cold venison, Keira took a hasty bath. She then settled herself upon a pallet made up near the fire. Keira stared into the flames and waited for sleep to come. She hated this time of the night—hated the silence, hated the fact that sleep was so slow to come, leaving her alone in the silence with her memories. Try as she might, she could not shake free of the grip of those dark memories. She could only suppress them for a while.
Duncan had been a good man, passingly handsome, and gentle. She had not loved him and she still felt guilty about that, even though it was hardly her fault. At nearly two-and-twenty, however, she had decided she could wait no longer for some great, passionate love to stroll her way. She had wanted children and a home of her own. Although she loved her family deeply, she had begun to feel an increasing need to spread her wings, to walk her own path. Marriage did not usually free a woman, but all her instincts had told her that Duncan would never try to master her. He had wanted a true partner and, knowing how rare that was, she had accepted him when he had asked her to be his bride.
She could still recall the doubts of her family, especially those of her grandmother Lady Mailed and her cousin Gillyanne. Their special gifts had told them that she did not love the man she was about to marry. They had sensed her unease, one she could not explain even to herself. Keira was not sure it was a good thing that they had not pressed her on that, then roundly scolded herself. They had respected her choice, and it had been her choice.
Why she had felt uneasy from the moment she had accepted Duncan’s proposal of marriage was still a puzzle to her. Keira had smothered that unease and married him. Within hours of marrying him, the first hint of trouble between them had begun and within days of reaching Ardgleann, the trouble with Rauf had begun. She had thought that explained all those odd feelings she had suffered, the reluctance and the wariness, but now she was not so sure. Every instinct she had told her that the puzzle was not solved yet.
Just as she began to relax, welcoming the comfort of sleep, a harsh cry from Sir Liam startled her. Keira hurried to his side to find him straining against his bonds, muttering furious curses at enemies only he could see. She stroked his forehead and spoke softly to him, telling him over and over where he was, who cared for him now, and that he was safe. It surprised her a little when he quickly grew calm again.
“Jolene?” he whispered.
Keira wondered why hearing him speak another woman’s name should irritate her as much as it did. “Nay, Keira,” she said as she placed her hand over his to try to stop him from tugging against his bonds.
“Keira,” he repeated and grasped her hand in his. “Aye. Keira. Black hair. Confused me. Thought I was home. At Dubheidland.”
“Ah. She is your healer?” Keira tried to wriggle her hand free of his grasp, but he would not release her, so she sat down in the chair at his bedside.
“Sig’mor’s wife. Lady of Dubheidland. Thought I was home.”
“So ye said. I can give ye something to ease the pain, if ye wish it.”
“Nay. Thought I was caught again.”
She could see that it pained him to speak, but could not resist asking, “Do ye remember what happened to you?”
“Caught. Beaten. Thrown away. Ye found me?”
“Aye, me and my cousin Brother Matthew.”
“Good. Safe here.”
“Aye, ye will be.” She tried yet again to wriggle her hand free of his, but failed.
“Stay.” He heaved a sigh. “Please. Stay.”
Keira inwardly cursed the weakness that caused her to heed that plea. She carefully shifted her seat closer to the bed so that she could sit more comfortably as she waited for him to release her hand. After a few moments of silence, she wondered if he had gone back to sleep, but his grip upon her hand remained firm. To her surprise, he began to stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. The warmth that gesture stirred within her was a little alarming, but she could not bring herself to stop him.
This was not good, Keira thought. The light brush of a man’s thumb over her hand should not make her feel warm. True, it was a very nice hand, the fingers long and elegant, but it was too benign a caress to stir any interest. Or it should be. She looked at his battered face and sighed. To all the troubles she already had, she realized she now had to add one more. A man she did not know, a man whose face was so bruised and swollen it would probably give a child the night terrors, could stir her blood with the simple stroke of his thumb.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hannah Howell
is an award-winning author who lives with her family in Massachusetts. She is the author of over thirty Zebra historical romances and is currently working on a new historical romance featuring the Wherlocke family, coming in March 2013! Hannah loves hearing from readers and you may visit her Website:
www.hannahhowell.com
.
is an award-winning author who lives with her family in Massachusetts. She is the author of over thirty Zebra historical romances and is currently working on a new historical romance featuring the Wherlocke family, coming in March 2013! Hannah loves hearing from readers and you may visit her Website:
www.hannahhowell.com
.
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 1996 by Hannah Howell
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
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ISBN: 978-1-4201-2819-2
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