‘Are you planning on baking all night?’
Keila looked up to find a sleepy-eyed Moira standing in the doorway leading to the sitting room, holding a flickering candle. ‘I can’t sleep. I hope I didn’t wake you.’
‘You didn’t wake me, lass, but I suggest you find yourself another task to keep you busy. You’ve baked enough loaves to feed every clan in the Highlands.’
Keila’s fingers curled into the newest batch of dough she was making and clenched, sending the gooey mass oozing between her fingers as her gaze touched on the upturned loaves crowding the far end of the table. ‘I’ll make this lot the last.’ She separated the mix and pressed it into the loaf tins.
‘And what will you do then?’
She stared down at the filled tins, and then turning, placed them on the long-handled paddle and slid them into the oven. She didn’t know what she’d do to keep herself busy, but one thing was for certain. She wouldn’t be brewing any ale. She couldn’t. Not yet. The ale shed held too many recent memories. Precious memories. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready to brew there again.
‘Is it very late?’ She washed the dough from her hands in the pail of water.
‘More’s the like it’s very early. The sun will be rising soon.’ Moira set her candle down on the corner of the long trestle and walked around to where Keila stood drying her hands. ‘Whatever the time, I’m here to listen, if you care to talk.’
Keila pressed her lips together and looked at her friend. ‘My thanks, Moira.’ She turned away and peered down into the wooden bowl. ‘But I don’t think I’m ready.’
Moira placed her hand on Keila’s arm. ‘I understand, lass.’ She squeezed gently. ‘You know I do. But I am here when you are ready.’
Keila looked at her companion, the friend she was blessed to have. The woman who had chosen to care for her over Euphemia, Countess of Ross. ‘Why did I never meet Lady Ross?’
Moira gave her a curious look. ‘You’ve never asked me that before.’
It was something Keila had always wanted to know, but having been dispatched to the next relatives every two years, she hadn’t wanted to hear she was a promise made to a dying woman and nothing more.
‘Are you certain you want to hear about it now?’
With the sting of sending Adair away numbing her heart, she was ready to hear anything, no matter how upsetting. ‘Aye.’ But still, she braced herself for the worse.
‘Come, lass.’ Moira pulled out a wooden stool each from beneath the trestle. ‘Sit.’ Before Moira found her own seat, she took two cups from the shelf behind her and filled them from the jug of ale on the table.
Keila sipped from her cup as Moira sat beside her.
‘I doubt you know, but Lady Ross wed twice. Both marriages were part of her duty.’ Moira paused to peer inside her cup and Keila wondered if Lady Ross’s arranged marriages added to her friend’s aversion to them. ‘You were born three months before she married her second husband, the Wolf of Badenoch.’
Keila leaned back in surprise. ‘The Wolf?’
Moira’s lips thinned. ‘It wasn’t his birth name, but rather the name he earned.’ Moira drank from her cup and set it down. ‘Lady Ross had a strength, a force of will like nae other I’d known. But she’d lost her first husband, then one of her maid’s, your mother, and was to wed again, all within a short amount of time, but still,’ Moira looked up and smiled at Keila. ‘She worried for you.’ She reached across and laid her palm over Keila’s hand.
‘For certain she’d spoken words promising your mother she would ensure you were safe and well, but she took a liking to you that came from the heart. She only had one child, a son to her first husband, and anyone who saw her holding you could see she loved you like the daughter she never had.’
Warmth stirred deep inside Keila, proving she could still feel something.
Moira’s smile deepened then fell. ‘But we’d heard things, unsettling things, about the brutality of the man she was to marry next. Lady Ross feared that once they were wed, should things not go well between them, the Wolf might use her fondness for you as a weapon against her.’ Moira continued with a glint of pride in her eyes. ‘Lady Ross was also a clever woman and she refused to wed the Wolf until he declared Drummin House as yours. With all he was set to gain through his marriage to Lady Ross, one house in Drummin would make little difference, but still, as you know, there was one stipulation. The day you marry, Drummin House will revert back to the Wolf.
‘As you also know, to fulfil her promise to your mother, she then sent you to live with each of your father’s kin to the west, so that you might learn about your sire from them.’ Keila vaguely remembered her father’s kin, but she could easily recall the many different things she’d learned from each of them.
‘And then she wed the Wolf.’ Moira’s hand tightened over hers. ‘News of his ruthless and lawless ways spread far and wide. He sacked and burned Elgin and its cathedral and was excommunicated by the church.’
Moira frowned. ‘I visited Lady Ross every second summer at Dingwall to let her know how you were getting on. But on my last visit, days before your tenth summer, Lady Ross looked …’ she slowly shook her head. ‘She looked tired. She was weary of her husband’s infidelities and the string of illegitimate children that followed. She’d asked the church for a divorce.’
Moira straightened and met Keila’s gaze. ‘She was desperate to reveal her success at appealing to the Avignon papal court for a divorce, but she wanted you securely ensconced in Drummin House first. And so you were.’ Moira lifted and held her hand. ‘But know this, Keila. Lady Ross would have risked her own life to see you, but she refused to risk yours.’
Keila’s vision blurred as she stared at Moira. ‘I didn’t know,’ she said past the lump fast filling her throat.
‘You weren’t meant to, lass.’
A tear fell onto Keila’s cheek, swiftly followed by another. ‘Oh God.’ Keila fell into Moira’s open arms and wept. ‘I always thought I was a burden and nae one cared but you.’ She squeezed her eyes shut. ‘Now I know they cared too much.’
Keila remained in Moira’s arms and let her tears run dry. She cried for the Lady Ross and for everything she had done for Keila. She cried for the mother and father she’d never known and the kin she’d briefly met. She cried for the woman holding her and she cried for the loss of Adair.
She briefly tightened her hold about Moira, and straightening, dashed the moisture from her cheeks and peered into the amber eyes of the woman who had sacrificed so much for her. ‘Thank you, for everything, Moira.’ She placed a soft kiss on Moira’s tear-glistened cheek. ‘I will be in my room should you need me.’
‘We’ll talk more, once you’ve rested, lass.’
Keila climbed the stairs to her room and washed her face with cold water and sat on her bed. Though the circumstances were very different, hearing everything Lady Ross had done for her helped her understand her choice to send Adair away. She hadn’t wanted to, but for his safety, she’d had to. Her heart clenched at the memory of his anger and confusion, but she now realised if she’d told him her fears and hadn’t pretended she held no interest in him, felt nothing for him, then he would never have left. He would have stayed and protected her with his life.
A rush of longing speared her heart. She wanted Adair back, here, now, in her arms, in her life. Forever. She crossed her arms over her chest to tame the yearning, to hold the hurt inside. A single tear splashed her cheek, when she’d thought she’d spent them all. She brushed it away. She’d done what she’d had to and now must go on with her life.
The sound of hoof beats below outside her window had her holding her breath. Had Leith returned with more distressing news? As she rose to her feet, she couldn’t stop her foolish heart from quickening at the thought that Adair had come back to her.
***
At the sight of Drummin House, Adair inhaled a long breath. Riding throughout the night had been tedious and slow at times, for despite the half-moon’s glow, the dark had been complete in certain places and he couldn’t risk injuring Demon. But he was almost there.
He breathed another full breath and captured it at the sight of a woman standing beside the stable. Was it Keila? Would she be happy to see him? His heart chugged a heavy beat. Of course she wouldn’t. She’d asked him to leave. With a turn of his wrist, he tightened the reins about his hand and slowly straightened in the saddle. Never mind if she wasn’t pleased to see him. He’d not be leaving until he told her all he’d learned.
The figure near the stable shifted about as Demon’s galloping hooves drew closer. But it wasn’t Keila’s bonny face that turned to see who had come; it was Moira, the dragon’s.
Dair drew rein by the house and jumped from the saddle, his gaze searching to see if Keila was about. Burying his disappointment at not finding the woman he was desperate to see, he strode to where Moira stood, her displeasure at seeing him obvious by the flat line of her mouth and the glare she fixed on him as he stopped in front of her.
‘I know who you are.’ A hint of displeasure darkened her quiet tone.
Adair withheld his frown and offered a small nod. ‘Moira.’
‘Now your injuries have healed, it’s obvious who your father is.’ Her gaze flicked up to one of the second-storey shuttered windows. Keila must be in her room. ‘She will not marry you, or any other. Drummin House is hers.’
He stared at the dragon and slowly smiled. ‘Keila is fortunate to have you.’ Surprise momentarily claimed Moira’s face but was quickly swept away and replaced by a her usual expression of mistrust. Adair continued. ‘Then Keila knows Drummin House returns to the Earl of Buchan if she weds?’
‘Of course she knows she’d lose her home to “the Wolf” if she is foolish enough to marry.’
Adair didn’t understand the reference, but Moira’s impression of his father was clear. ‘Good, but I think Leith of Drummin Castle is involved with—’
‘Adair?’
Keila’s musical voice had him spinning about in search of her. His heart seemed to cease beating for the short time it took him to find her. She stood with one hand holding the edge of the doorway into the kitchen like an anchor. The gown she wore fell over the feminine curves he’d recently come to know, but the forest-green hue of the garment looked drab in comparison to her emerald eyes.
He was striding toward her before he knew he’d moved. ‘Keila.’ His voice caught, and he glanced sidelong at Moira keeping stride with him and hoped she hadn’t noticed.
‘What are you doing here?’ His gaze shot back to Keila who’d released the doorway and was gliding toward him.
‘I was just asking him the same thing,’ Moira said, drawing to a halt along with him.
‘Moira please, let him speak.’ Keila stopped before them, her attention fixed on her friend.
‘Very well, but I’ll be close by if you need me, lass.’ With an affectionate touch to Keila’s arm and a narrow-eyed glare for him, Moira walked to the door Keila had just come out of.
‘The dragon still sees me as a monster,’ he said, as he watched Moira disappear inside.
‘And you still see her as a dragon,’ Keila said softly. ‘Why are you here, Adair?’
Weariness bordering on sadness dulled her voice and stole a trace of the lustre from her eyes. Dair clenched his jaw, loathing the thought that his return was the cause. ‘I was angry and confused when I left. I wanted to thank you again for your care. I’ve also come to tell you …’ The gentle morning breeze caught a red-gold strand of hair and sent it dancing across her face. Keila’s gaze slipped to one side as she captured the wayward lock and tucked it behind her ear. Her lashes fluttered several times before her eyes met his once more. ‘I wanted to tell you what my journey west revealed.’
Her lovely lips parted and her eyes widened. ‘Did you find your kin?’
Her excitement for him was like a dagger to his heart. How could he tell her his father was an earl and was a cold and powerful man who valued land and property more than he did his own flesh and blood? How was he to tell her he loved her and wanted to marry her, but the price was the home she adored? A house a greedy old man didn’t need and had forgotten about, until a younger, selfish man with visions of his own grandeur had reminded him of its existence and put Keila and Moira in harm’s way?
‘Aye, but things did not go as I’d hoped.’ He drank her in, knowing this was the last time he’d see her. ‘I’m returning to the Borders.’
‘What happened?’
‘Let’s just say my sire isn’t someone I’d be proud to call father.’
‘I’m so sorry, Adair.’ Keila’s hand lifted toward him, but stopped in the empty space midway between them.
The flesh of his arm rippled to life at the nearness of her touch. ‘There is also something else you should know.’ She gazed at him expectantly. ‘I believe Leith of Drummin Castle is responsible for your recent misfortunes, at market and the four men who tried to run you down. You shouldn’t have any further trouble from them or Leith.’ Not if his father upheld his part of their bargain by warning Leith away. And not if the earl believed Adair intended to carry out his plan to marry Keila and keep Drummin House in his father’s name.
The earl was leaving Lochindorb this morning, had likely already set out south for Atholl. It would be some time before any news about Drummin House reached him, and from what Adair had seen the day before, Alexander Stewart was not a well man. Soon, he would be no threat to Keila keeping her home. On the earl’s death, Drummin House would always be hers.
She watched him as closely as he watched her. A look of relief swept across her face and her eyes sparkled as brightly as they always should. Adair hoped he succeeded in concealing his yearnings for her.
‘I am forever grateful, Adair.’ A hint of breathlessness softened her words, his name.
He nodded and made to leave. ‘There is one more thing I need to tell you before I go.’ The words were free before he realised it was him speaking. But deep down he was pleased, because he couldn’t return to his life in the Borders without letting her know how much she meant to him.
He stepped closer, desperate to be near her, but stopped himself from reaching for her, uncertain if his touch would be unwelcome. He struggled to hold her gaze. ‘I hadn’t planned on telling you, I hadn’t planned for it to happen.’ He gave a half laugh that sounded as forced as it was, a laugh that held no humour. His hands shook. He clenched one about the hilt of his sword. The other, he clenched in on itself. ‘Please believe me when I say I don’t expect more. But I can’t leave without saying the words I have never spoken to another.’ He was rambling. He never rambled. Dair swallowed, stilled his restless feet and looked into her emerald eyes. ‘I love you, Keila.’
For a moment, nothing moved. Silence reigned. He should never have told her. She’d think him a fool. Adair drew a shaky breath into his chest that suddenly felt as if it were caving in. He held the breath and braced his heart against the rejection he expected with the widening of her emerald gaze.
‘Fire.’ Dair frowned and narrowed his eyes as Keila’s continued to widen at something over his shoulder. ‘Oh my God, Rory.’
Adair turned about and saw black plumes of smoke rising into the air in the distance. ‘God almighty.’ He turned back to Keila. ‘I’ll ride to the cottage.’ He ran toward Demon.
‘I’ll hitch the cart and will meet you there,’ Keila called, as he mounted and turned Demon into the direction of Rory’s cottage.
‘Run, Demon.’ He lay low along his horse’s neck. The smell of burning timber coated his next breath. He silently prayed that Rory and Netti weren’t caught up in the fire.
As fast as Demon galloped, it seemed forever before they were close enough to see precisely what was burning. Adair’s gut clenched the moment his eyes fixed on the sight of Rory’s cottage well ablaze. Rory running away from the river, dropping the two pails of water he carried in his wake as he ran toward the burning structure seized Dair’s heart.
‘Nae, Rory. Nae,’ Adair yelled to the older man. The cottage was well ablaze and no one would survive if they went inside now. But Rory kept running and running, straight for the burning cottage. ‘Wait! Rory, nae,’ Dair waved from his saddle trying to get Rory’s attention. Christ, he was going to be too late. ‘Rory!’ He screamed the man’s name and then Rory was gone. Had disappeared inside the building that looked to be nothing more than red-hot flames.
Adair wanted to jump to the ground and run, but there was still a way to go and Demon could get him there faster than his own legs. He gripped the leathers, forcing himself to stay in the saddle, silently willing and begging for Rory to run back out of the cottage whole and hearty, wearing the mischievous grin Adair had come to know.
The heat from the blaze reached Adair, and pulling back on the reins, he slowed Demon and leapt from the saddle before his horse had stopped. Arms pumping at his sides, Adair ran toward the cottage, the hungry flames licking and waving, reaching out for him. Rory burst out through the wall of flames clutching something awkwardly in his arms.
‘Rory.’ Dair shouted and headed for where the older man slowed and stopped and dropped to his knees, still holding the bundle to his chest.
Adair fell to his knees before him and searched the older man’s face. White-hot fear for Rory pierced Adair’s chest. Clumps of his thin grey hair were missing or had shrivelled to round blackened balls close to his head. His eyes were closed and skin that had been weatherworn now bubbled with blisters. Quick breaths were wheezed in and out in at an irregular rhythm. The shirt he wore smouldered in places that now boasted holes, uneven and burned about the edges. His arms slowly lowered the burden that was wrapped in a wet linen cloth to his knees.
‘Rory?’
‘Is that … ye Mac?’
‘Aye, it’s me.’
‘Can ye? Here.’ He opened his eyes with much effort. ‘My Netti.’
Reaching forward, Adair scooped Netti into his arms and quickly uncovered her face. Large blue frightened eyes, surrounded by dark strands of greying hair, peered up at him. ‘Are you alright?’
She stared at him. ‘Aye.’
Dair glanced at Rory and knew the older man’s efforts had cost him dearly. The flesh between the blisters on his face had suddenly turned ashen and spittle dotted his parched lips each time he released a rattled breath.
‘Please help him,’ Netti said, freeing her arms and grasping Adair’s hand.
Adair had no idea what he could do to help Rory. He was no healer. He wished Keila was here, but it took time to hitch the horses to the cart. She’d be here soon. She’d know what to do. But until she arrived, he had to do or say something. ‘Keila will be here soon,’ he said to reassure Netti, before gently lifting her to the grass-covered ground beside him. Staying on his knees, Adair crawled over to Rory’s side.
‘Netti?’ Rory wheezed his wife’s name.
‘Netti is safe and well, thanks to you, Rory.’ Even in the old man’s confusion, he’d saved Netti from the flames.
‘Won this time.’ Rory spoke the triumphant words, then suddenly released a guttural groan. One of his hands shot up to claw at his chest.
‘Rory?’ Adair shifted closer and caught Rory as he fell backward into his arms. Cradling the older man in his lap, Adair stared down into his burned and blistered face. ‘Rory?’ Fear rang out as he repeated the name. Singed lashes flickered and pain-filled grey eyes squinted up at him. ‘Almighty God, Rory. I thought—’
‘Adair? Adair … is that ye … lad?’ The sound of his name spoken between each hard-won breath tore a hole in Dair’s heart.
‘Aye, Rory. I’m here.’ He did his best to sound strong, but his voice cracked on the last word.
‘Glad … I am.’ Rory grunted and squeezed his chest with his hand. ‘I ken yer nae my son,’ his dry lips drew back over his clenched teeth. ‘But had my lad lived … had I saved him … I’d hope … he’d be a man like ye.’
Tears filled Dair’s eyes, blurring the sight of the man he held in his arms. He squeezed his eyes shut and the sounds of the greedy flames roared in his ears. When he opened them again, he peered down at the man he admired and cared for. ‘Hold on, Rory. Keila’s coming.’
‘My chest … pains me, lad,’ he panted and his body stiffened. The blackened fingers of his free hand sought Adair’s and clung for life. ‘Look after … my Netti?’ He clutched at his chest as a groan of agony escaped his mouth.
‘Aye, Rory. I’ll care for Netti.’ The grey eyes seemed to darken and dim. ‘Hold on, Rory.’ He glanced up to see the horses and cart approaching. ‘Keila’s here. She’ll know what to do. She’ll help you.’
Rory’s reed-like body grew heavier in Dair’s arms.
‘Stay with me, Rory,’ he pleaded. He barely registered Netti’s anguished sob. ‘Rory.’ One final breath escaped Rory’s pale lips and Adair stared down into Rory’s lifeless eyes. ‘Rory?’
Urgent footsteps approached moments before Keila fell to her knees beside him, her satchel of herbals flattening the grass beside her. Adair saw the glint of hope in her emerald eyes, snuffed out in an instant with the helpless shake of his head.
The agony that claimed her beautiful face doubled his own. His need to shield her from hurt and loss and danger lay in tatters as tears filled her eyes and a single drop spilled over.
‘I’ll see to Netti,’ she said softly, as a tear splashed her other cheek.
Adair’s admiration for Keila soared higher. She’d just lost a man who was like a father to her, yet she was ready to care for and help others. She turned and dragged her satchel an arm’s length away to where Moira, pale and motionless, knelt behind Netti, supporting her, tears silently streaming down her face. Netti’s eyes were fixed open wide as she stared across the small distance to where he sat holding Rory, a tide of tears spilling over her lashes.
He turned away and looked to where the cottage was fully ablaze. Netti had just lost her husband and her home. His chest tightened. He would give anything to have saved these people from such devastating harm and sorrow. These people he’d come to care about so deeply in such a short time. Hungry flames leapt high in the air, sending dark plumes of smoke up high to mar the blue of the summer sky. Blistering heat reached out for him. Dair looked down at Rory’s sightless gaze peering up, seeing nothing. He swallowed, and lifting one hand, he carefully closed Rory’s eyes.
If only he’d ridden faster. If he’d stopped in to see Rory first on his way back from Lochindorb, instead of riding straight to Drummin House, he might have prevented the fire. He might have saved Rory. His heart twisted in his chest. But he hadn’t. He’d failed.
Disappointment bit deep, but ifs and onlys and mights wouldn’t bring Rory back to life. He needed to concentrate on laying Rory to rest and fulfilling his promise to take care of Netti. He’d then find out how the fire had started and fleetingly wondered if this blaze was somehow connected to the others.
Adair climbed to his feet and carried Rory’s body to the cart, gently placing him on the timbered boards and covering him with a length of linen. He needed to find out where Netti wanted Rory buried, but her loss would be too great for her to think clearly. He’d ask her tomorrow.
He walked back to where Keila was just tying her satchel closed. ‘How is she?’
His question was for Keila but it was Netti who answered. ‘I have nae injuries.’ Her soft voice caught. ‘Rory saw to that.’ Dark lashes lowered to hide her eyes, but the tear trails marking her cheeks were easily seen and her frail body shook with grief. He hadn’t yet had a good look at Rory’s Netti, but the brief glimpses he had made him believe she’d once been a beauty.
‘I found nae wounds,’ Keila confirmed. ‘We’d like you to come and stay with us at Drummin House,’ Keila said quietly.
Netti glanced up at Keila, but only to say, ‘My thanks,’ before hiding her eyes once more.
‘I’ll carry you to the cart.’ Dair bent and carefully scooped Netti into his arms for the second time. She weighed less than a small cask full of ale and smelled of smoke and a familiar scent he could not name. He could feel the feeble lengths of her crippled legs through the damp linen cloth still wrapped about her from the waist down to her toes. She turned her face into his chest and wept silent tears into his shirt.
Adair clenched his jaw against the urge to cry with her. He tightened his hold about her for a moment, letting her know he was sorry for her loss, hoping to console her and let her know he felt it too. He walked to the opposite side to where he’d placed Rory’s body and watched as Keila scrambled up and sat at the top end, closest to the bench seat.
‘Moira will drive the cart and I’ll sit with Netti,’ Keila said and opened her arms.
Adair assisted a quiet, moist-eyed Moira onto the bench seat. She met his gaze briefly and squeezed his hand before she released him and turned to gather the reins. Adair wasn’t surprised to learn the dragon did have a heart. He mounted Demon, and with a last look back at the fire that had almost consumed the entire cottage, Dair led them back to Drummin House, the ride so much quicker than his never-ending journey there.