A Warrior's Heart Page 15

  Thick, warm bands of steel wrapped around her as a voice chuckled into her ear. “Weel, hello there, princess.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Have you ever seen such a scowl?” Sean murmured quietly to the man standing next to him.

  “Aye,” the man answered, just as softly. “’Tis just like her mother’s.”

  Lachlan paused before the fire, now restored to a roaring blaze since they no longer had to keep their presence a secret. He laughed when she pounded on his back, daring to tell her that it felt good upon his sore muscles and suggesting she concentrate a little more to the right.

  “I’ll take it from here,” Roran said, appearing from the other side.

  Lachlan eased her from his shoulder, smartly gathering her two tiny fists in one of his much larger hands before handing her over to Roran.

  Roran fixed her with a stern look, but his eyes were fair dancing with triumph. “Are you going to behave yourself, or will I have to bind you about your wee wrists and ankles?”

  Brighid shot him a look that nearly gave him frostbite. “Ye have te sleep sometime,” she hissed.

  He laughed, the smug bastard.

  Brighid finally looked around the fire. She found Lachlan (grinning widely), along with Ian, Rhys, Cameron, Kieran, and Simon. There was Sir Sean, looking a bit worse for wear than the last time she had seen him. And that other man, who was regarding her with the strangest look in his eye.

  Roran held her tightly to him with one massive arm pinning both of hers against her chest. When she insisted on stomping upon his feet with hers – which had nothing but a slightly annoying effect since he wore sturdy boots and hers were bare – he simply lifted her into the air so that they dangled above his.

  “And now, since we are all here, I think we can begin the ceremony.”

  Brighid stopped struggling at his words. “What ceremony?”

  He grinned. “The one that will forever bind you to me.”

  “Ye cannae be serious.”

  “Oh, but I am.”

  “Ye no longer have claim te me, Roran McShane.”

  Roran’s eyes gleamed as she felt his moist breath at her ear. “Look into my eyes and speak those words to me,” he commanded. Then he dropped his voice until it became little more than a caress. “Tell me you are not mine, even as part of me still remains deep inside you.”

  She glared at him, even went so far as to open her mouth, but nothing came out. She could run from him. She could hide from him. But she could never speak so bold a lie. She was his.

  “You have my heart, Brighid. My heart, my soul, my being. They have belonged to you since our first night together. And unless I am mistaken, I believe I hold yours, as well.”

  For several moments he held his breath, then relief flooded his eyes. It was tears that flooded Brighid’s.

  “Hush, now,” Roran said, his features softening as his grip loosened slightly. “A woman should not cry so when a man is proposing to her.”

  Brighid sniffed quietly, sure that she had heard him wrong. “Propose?”

  “Aye,” Roran said softly, smiling at her. “I want you to be my wife, Brighid. That is the vow I ask of you this eve as I offer one to you.”

  He gently set her down on her feet, then took a step back to kneel before her. “Brighid, before these witnesses, I give you my life, my heart, my soul, now and for all eternity. Will you accept this, and agree to be my wife?”

  Brighid looked into his face, shock mixing with incredible warmth at his words and the love she saw in his eyes. “Ah, Roran,” she said, tears streaming down her face unchecked. “I love ye so much, but...”

  “But?” For the first time, a hint of uncertainty appeared in his eyes.

  She drew a breath for strength, but her whole body trembled. She lifted her hands to his face. “I love ye, Roran, and ‘tis true, ye already own my heart and soul. But I cannae play the dutiful princess bride, safely tucked away into some castle awaiting yer glorious return after each battle.”

  Roran frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but Brighid lay her finger over his lips. “If I cannae be by yer side, then I cannae be yer wife.”

  Roran exhaled heavily, and she felt her heart break all over again. Then Roran lifted her hand and the next thing she knew, she felt the cool band of precious metal being slid onto her finger.

  “Brighid, my sweet,” the warrior-knight said with a smile, “what makes you think I would ever be foolish enough to allow otherwise?”

  Brighid was lifted and passed between each of the men in congratulatory hugs, under Roran’s watchful eye, of course. By the time she was returned to Roran, she was rather breathless. That was nothing, however, to how she felt after Roran claimed her mouth in a public display. It was only afterwards, as the laughter rang out and the mead flowed freely, that Brighid once again noticed the stranger. He was sitting farther back from the others, remaining on the periphery, quiet, watchful.

  Glancing around, Brighid saw everyone else occupied by Sean’s latest tale. Everyone except the stranger, who only seemed interested in her. Curiosity overtook her, and she rose, walking quietly over toward the man. Roran watched her closely, but said nothing.

  Brighid sat down a few feet away. At this distance, he looked a bit older than she had first thought. He was still fairly young and in good shape, but his dark hair had slight touches of gray that weren’t easily seen from a distance, and there were the beginnings of telltale crow’s feet around his deep green eyes. He was a very handsome man, in a quiet, solid, kind of way. Brighid felt strangely at peace around him.

  He seemed surprised at her closeness at first; his eyes widened slightly as she held out a cup of mead for him, then he offered a hesitant smile as he accepted it. Brighid smiled back. She wasn’t sure why.

  “Forgive me, sir. Have we met?”

  He shook his head, sadness filling his eyes. “Nae.”

  “’Tis what I thought as weel, yet ye feel familiar te me somehow.” She studied his features closely as she spoke, and had the distinct impression that her words pleased him. “Do ye ken why that might be?”

  The man’s eyes moved briefly from her face to a spot over her shoulder, and Brighid felt the comforting warmth of Roran behind her. “This is Gavin McKinnon, sweet. The master silversmith who crafted our bands.”

  She turned at his words, looking over her shoulder to see the knowledge in his eyes. For the first time, she looked down at the band he had placed on her finger, really looked. Her eyes found the stranger, who was standing slowly, looking uncertain.

  “Gavin McKinnon?” she whispered. “The silversmith?” The man nodded slowly.

  She reached into her shirt and extracted the pendant she had worn for as long as she could remember. The markings, the stylings of the bands matched it exactly. “Ye made this as weel, didnae ye?”

  His eyes glistened. “Aye.”

  Brighid inhaled rather sharply as the true meaning of those words hit her full force. At some point Roran must have slipped his hands about her waist, which was fortunate, because he was the only thing preventing her from collapsing upon her weakened knees.

  “Roran,” she said, leaning back into his solidity and warmth. “Ye found my father.”

  “Aye, loving. I did.”

  ––––––––

  Brighid sat between Roran’s legs, her back against his front, facing the man she now knew to be her father. The fire burned before them, casting the cave in a flickering glow and providing a pleasant warmth as the heavy rains pounded outside. The others were spread out on their blankets throughout the large room, quietly listening. Brighid didn’t mind; she was glad that they were here. They had become her family.

  “You look so much like her,” Gavin said quietly, his eyes resting upon Brighid once more. “You have your mother’s eyes and her Fae features. Except for your hair. You have the dark hair of the McKinnons.”

  For so many years she had dreamt of such a moment, the desire to know of he
r past. But now that the time had finally come, all of her long-pondered questions fled. Brighid could only gaze at his handsome face, silently memorizing his features.

  “I did not know about you,” Gavin continued, his voice holding years of grief and pain. “Not until it was too late.”

  Brighid nodded. It was one of a hundred scenarios she had imagined. Tragic as it was, it was some comfort to believe that her sire never knew of her, rather than to believe he had willingly abandoned her and her mother. “Tell me.”

  “I loved your mother,” he began, a ghost of a smile playing about his lips as he spoke of Aibhilin. “Loved her from the very first moment I saw her. She was so beautiful, so kind, so filled with life... Her father, the king, had commissioned a necklace for her as a wedding gift, and they had come to the silversmith’s shop where I was but an apprentice. She entered the room, looked at me and smiled. I was at once and forever lost.”

  “I knew nothing could ever come of it,” he said quietly. “She was the princess, and what was I, but a simple tradesman, and a mere apprentice at that? But what my head knew, my heart could not fully accept, and I found myself taking every opportunity just to see her, even if it was but a brief glimpse from across the courtyard.”

  He smiled sadly at the memory. “I thought I was the only one afflicted, but against all reason, the princess shared my infatuation. She began visiting me in the village late at night, sneaking away from the castle. She told me that I was her one true love, and that she could not bear to go through with the marriage her father had arranged for her.”

  “But I was afraid. Afraid that love could never be enough for a princess, not when she could have a kingdom. So I did what I thought was the honorable thing. I left Scamallhaven so Aibhilin would have no reason not to marry the young prince.”

  “I fled far into the mountains, wanting to be as far away from the wedding as possible. To even think of her in another man’s arms left me near blind with rage and grief...”

  Gavin paused, and took several breaths, steeling himself against his own memories. “I did not know she was already pregnant with my child,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. His eyes sought out Brighid’s begging forgiveness.

  “’Twas several years later I returned from my self-imposed banishment. I was plagued by terrible nightmares of Aibhilin crying out for me in need. I had to see her, see for myself that she was fine, even if it killed me to see her with another.”

  “When I reached Scamallhaven, I learned that she had disappeared without a trace shortly after I’d left. Only then did I understand that Aibhilin had tried to come after me. The nightmares changed then. Aibhilin was no longer suffering, but she would cry softly. ‘Twas my dreams that eventually led me to far into the hills, to an old widow and her children. The woman had taken Aibhilin in while she was still pregnant with you. ‘Tis there that she stayed for one summer, then another, until one of the King’s Guard appeared at the door.”

  “One of the woman’s older children had gone to the market to barter, and had heard the tale of the missing princess. He’d put the pieces together and sent word, hoping to earn a fat reward. Everyone had been in the fields when they came; the widow said that Aibhilin must have seen them coming and fled, because she never saw her – or you – again.”

  Gavin shook his head sadly. “I searched for years, hoping beyond hope that Aibhilin had found another safe refuge, and there I would find the two of you. Eventually I came upon the convent. I learned that my beloved was gone, and that her child – my child – had run away. Again I searched, but like your mother, you, too, had vanished, until I eventually gave up all hope of ever finding you. Until Roran came to see me in Cavernesse and offered a drawing of your pendant.”

  “You will never know how much I regret leaving her, of not believing her when she said that I was all she wanted. I thought I was doing the right thing, sacrificing myself so that she could have everything...”

  The fire crackled. Rain pounded above and all around them. No one said anything for a long time. Then Gavin stood up and walked out into the rain.

  Brighid found him sitting just outside the cave beneath a natural ledge. The air was cool and damp, oversaturated with the heavy and constant deluge, but the overhang provided a decent cover. His shoulders were slumped; his head bowed.

  “Go back inside before you catch your death,” Gavin said when he sensed he was no longer alone.

  Instead, Brighid sat down beside him and draped a blanket over both of them. “I will when ye do.”

  Gavin cast her a martyred look. “You are as willful as your mother,” he said softly.

  Brighid smiled at that, though she doubted he could see it in the dark. It was a great compliment in her eyes.

  “Aye. Perhaps more so, or so I am told.”

  “Roran will have his hands full.”

  “Aye,” she chuckled. “As will I, I imagine. The mon kens how te get on my last nerve.”

  “But you love him.”

  “Aye, I do,” she sighed. “With all of my fool heart.” She paused, shifting a bit closer when her body began to tremble from the chilling cold of the rain. Gavin hesitantly put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him as if she had been coming to him for comfort her whole life.

  “He tried to leave me, just like ye did,” she said through chattering teeth.

  “Roran told me,” he admitted. “And you tried to follow, just like your mother.”

  “Weel, not exactly,” Brighid told him. “I would have, mind ye, if I thought it would do any good, but Roran is a proud, stubborn mon. I was trying te get as far away from him as I could. Roran went north, so I went south. I suppose, in that respect, I am more like ye.”

  Gavin pondered that for a few moments. “You would have rather lived alone than remain in the palace where you would see him regularly.”

  “Aye, ‘twould have been too painful. Except that, like my mother, I wouldnae have been alone for long.”

  It took several moments for Gavin to put the pieces together. When he did, he whipped his face to Brighid’s, his eyes wide with wonder and knowledge. Impulsively, Brighid threw her arms around him. After only a brief moment’s hesitation, he returned her embrace.

  “I never thought I would have the chance to do this,” Gavin said quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

  Brighid laughed and sniffled into his shirt. “Ye are quite good at it.”

  “I am glad you think so,” he said. “I have much time to make up for, if you will allow it.”

  “I would like that verra much.”

  Gavin released her. “I think, given the situation, we should get you inside before you catch a chill, aye?”

  Brighid nodded, accepting his hand. “Roran does not know, does he?” Gavin guessed.

  “Nae,” she sighed. “He doesnae.”

  Gavin thought about this for a moment, pausing before they re-entered the cave. “Thank you, Brighid, for sharing such a grand secret with me.”

  The smile she gave him was brilliant. “Weel,” she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “I had te do something te keep ye around, didnae I?”

  Gavin laughed.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It took another day and a half for the rain to subside, and two more after that for Roran to pronounce the trail safe enough to travel. Despite the weather, however, it was a pleasant time. The natural waterfalls in and around the caves made for easier bathing, in any event.

  Roran was guarding the entrance to one such cavern, ensuring Brighid’s privacy. It was unnecessary; there was not one male among them who would be foolish enough to even attempt to draw near her at such a vulnerable time. Even the lads, who Brighid had joked were perhaps the randiest lot she’d ever encountered, occupied themselves elsewhere to avoid any chance of seeing something they shouldn’t and riling him.

  It was while he sat there, watching a naked Brighid as she allowed the cool water to sluice over her lithe little body, that
the idea first occurred to him. As she moved the soap over her skin, he noticed that she paid particular attention to her belly. Her slow, lazy caresses drew his eyes there as well. The sound of soft humming over the flow of water filled the small room. Brighid shifted slightly, so he had a perfect view of her silhouette.

  Of the slight curve that had not been there before.

  The strangled gasp that came from his throat had Brighid’s eyes snapping open and turning in his general direction. She took in his stricken face, the question in his eyes, and smiled.

  In one heartbeat Roran was on his feet; in the next he was on his knees in the water before her. Eyes at navel level, he gazed at the slight swell, so easily seen on her tiny frame. His hands, shaking and trembling, touched her waist.

  “Brighid?” he whispered, looking up into her face.

  Her hands came down upon his head, her fingers tangling in his thick chestnut locks. She said nothing, but her smile told him everything he needed to know.

  Brighid was with child. His child.

  The knowledge both humbled and empowered him. Terrified and elated him.

  Heedless of the cold water soaking into his clothes, Roran slipped an arm beneath her legs and lifted, cradling her against his chest. Without a word, he carried her to the corner, holding her with one arm while he created a small nest of blankets and clothing. After gently settling her there, his trembling hands began to move over her.