Chapter Twelve
“The maiden believed the moonstone would protect her heart from love, but the gem only enhanced her desire.”
Entering the kitchens, Ailsa spied Brigid’s daughter speaking with a dog near the hearth. Moving forward, she grabbed a smock from a peg off the nearby wall. “Good morn, Nell.”
Rising, Nell beamed up at her. “’Tis a fine morn, Lady Ailsa.”
She rested her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Nae, only Ailsa.”
The girl nodded and dipped a piece of bread into the pot hanging over the open fire. Bending back down, she presented the morsel to the animal. “What do ye think?” she asked his opinion.
Ailsa folded her arms over her chest and watched the scene unfold. The dog thumped his tail in obvious pleasure. “He seems to enjoy the treat.”
Nell stroked his ears and stood. “Aye, though Cuchulainn reckons too much salt.”
“Truly?”
The dog let out a sharp bark.
Nell pointed to him. “See. He agrees with me.”
“Ye are a wonder, Nell.”
“Yes, she is, but I think Cuchulainn has sampled more than his fair share,” noted Brigid entering the kitchens. Placing a basket of fresh herbs on a worktable, she gave her daughter a warning look.
“He was hungry, Mother,” argued Nell.
Brigid brushed off her hands and pointed at the dog. “Cuchulainn is one of the most well-fed animals at Urquhart. And by the looks of him, I believe he could lose a pound or two.”
Instantly, the animal lowered his head.
“Mother, please. He can hear ye,” protested Nell and placed her hands over his ears.
Brigid knelt on one knee. “I am positive you can assure him I meant no disrespect, and he knows how much I love him.” Giving the animal a scratch behind his ear, she stood. “Now, unless you want me to shoo him out of the kitchens, quit feeding him the venison broth.”
Nell let out a sigh. “Aye.”
“Why don’t you both go over to the work table and chop some vegetables. There you can feed him the end pieces.”
The girl smiled fully. “A wonderful plan. Come help, Cuchulainn.”
Ailsa watched the pair saunter over to the worktable. “She is charming, Brigid. Her gift is a wonder.”
“It continues to grow each year, along with all her animals—be they furred or feathered—that she rescues. I still will never forget the time right after we met how she tended to a wounded wolf. My heart nearly stopped beating as I watched her help the trapped animal out of its cage.”
“Oh, goodness, I did not ken she was not your blood kin. Was Duncan married before?”
Brigid gestured her over to the other side of the kitchens. Reaching for a jug, she asked, “Would you care for some water? Or would you prefer ale?”
“Water would be fine, thank ye.” Taking a seat, Ailsa watched the woman grab two mugs and fill each.
Brigid handed her one of the mugs and took a seat across from her. “First and foremost, I consider Nell my daughter—as if I birthed her into the world.” She glanced away. “Duncan found her and Finn soon after Duncan’s sister was killed. A tempest of a storm was brewing across the land. Both lost their families during those days. Duncan became their protector and guardian.” Brigid turned her gaze back to Ailsa. “I suppose fate has a way of placing those in a path where they are needed. For you see I cannot bear any children. Therefore, when I married Duncan, Nell and Finn became mine, as well.”
Ailsa placed a fist over her chest. “I am sorry to have caused ye pain. I did not realize…” Her voice trailed off, and she took a sip of the cool liquid.
Letting out a sigh, Brigid placed a gentle hand over hers. “There is no need for an apology. I was blessed with two amazing children. I have no regrets.”
Smiling fully, Ailsa glanced over at Nell and her companion. “So Finn is not her brother?”
“No. Though he watches over Nell and sees to her protection. Finn had an abusive father and chose to run away during a storm. Nell lost her family the same night. Duncan came across both and took them with him to Castle Creag. In addition, Nell and Finn suffered greatly at the hands of the evil druid, Lachlan. To this day, Nell suffers from nightmares, yet, they are not as often as a few years ago. Furthermore, Finn spends more time with the horses and tends to retreat into a quiet place, where even Duncan cannot reach him.” Brigid sighed and leaned forward. “We are grateful for Desmond. He is able to get Finn to speak and laugh more. It does our hearts good to see the slight changes in him.”
Irritation seethed within Ailsa. “Children should not have to witness such violence. Moreover, they should have beauty and light—laughter and fun.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “Yet, ’tis a harsh world at times.”
“It does not matter the time period either. Sadly, we cannot place our children in a bubble of protection.”
Ailsa grumbled, “But we can surely give them the tools to defend themselves.”
“Most definitely.” Brigid smiled and took a sip of her water.
“How old are they?”
“Nell is ten summers, and Finn will turn thirteen in a few days.”
Pushing her mug aside, Ailsa stood. “What can I do to help in the kitchens?”
“Nothing,” remarked Brigid and moved away from the table.
Gaping at the woman, Ailsa waved her hand about. “Truly? Ye ken I am nae good at sitting quietly by the hearth stitching. I have nae more aches and can move freely.”
Brigid’s mouth twitched in humor. “I overheard Aileen and Tam saying you were fit to resume riding your horse. They say your beast has been nipping at any who pass by her, so leave the confines of this place and get some fresh air.”
Taken aback, Ailsa stared at the woman. “I will have ye ken Elva is an even-tempered animal. Surely she is upset with the lack of exercise.”
Grabbing some herbs out of the basket, Brigid proceeded to snip a few into the large steaming pot of broth. “Obviously, she prefers to have her mistress take her out than anyone else. All the men have attempted to coax her, but she refused to budge from her stall.”
“She is not used to newcomers,” countered Ailsa and removed her smock. Eagerness filled her to know she was able to ride her horse once again. Her feet couldn’t move fast enough out of the kitchens.
“You have been here for over three weeks. Surely that is plenty of time to adjust,” shouted Brigid.
Ailsa halted. Stepping back inside, she asked. “And Midwinter?”
Glancing over her shoulder, she replied, “In two weeks.”
Nodding, she quickly moved along the corridor and up the stairs. The time during her injury and getting well had flown by. Reaching her chamber, she entered and pulled forth her cloak, gloves, and dirk. Dashing back out, she hurried down the stairs and out into the bailey. Cold air whipped around her, but Ailsa embraced the elements. Sunlight splintered through the gray clouds, and she smiled. Snow had not fallen for many days, and her heart soared with the possibility of a ride along the loch.
Ailsa hugged her cloak more firmly around her, as she approached the stables. Warm laughter greeted her as she stepped inside. Her heart started to beat rapidly at seeing Desmond leaning against one of the stalls and watching Finn attempt to feed her horse pieces of kale. It was the first time seeing him in almost seven days.
For reasons she could not fathom, Desmond had stopped taking his meals with everyone else. He simply vanished after their evening on the north wall. Her lips still burned at the memory of his touch, but she quickly banished the image. Apparently, the man had regrets and wished not to be around her.
Steeling her emotions, Ailsa glanced at the lad. She knew the morsel would never tempt her horse. She preferred other fare and this was not one of her favorites.
“Elva favors hard oatcakes, cabbage, fennel, and apples,” proclaimed Ailsa, moving fully inside the stables. Keeping her focus on her horse, she brushed past Desmond.
“Good morn, Lady Ailsa,” greeted Finn, stepping aside.
“Aye, ’tis a fine one.” She stroked the animal’s forehead tenderly. “I have some good news, my lady. We can venture out for a ride today.”
“By whose order?” demanded Desmond.
Ailsa tried hard not to roll her eyes, but failed miserably. “I need no one’s consent.”
“Ye ken ’tis not safe with your injuries,” the man argued.
Finn eyed her skeptically.
Smiling, she kissed Elva’s nose and turned back toward Finn. “If ye would be so kind to help me ready my horse, I will be grateful. Ye will find Elva will be more agreeable after some fresh air.”
The lad looked past her in an obvious attempt to seek approval from the man.
“I will help, Lady Ailsa,” remarked Desmond in a low voice.
Finn shrugged and tossed the kale into a nearby basket. Muttering something to Desmond in passing, she heard him chuckling as he departed the stables.
Biting back a curse, she tapped her foot impatiently. Refusing to meet Desmond’s glare, which she surely knew was displayed across his face, Ailsa waited. When several moments ticked by, she stole a glance over her shoulder. Her anger simmered below the surface when she saw him tending to his own horse.
Storming over to him, she fisted her hands on her hips. “What are ye doing?”
“Preparing my horse. If ye are to venture out of the castle, ye must have another to safeguard ye. It has not been so long since ye were healed.”
“Perchance I should ask Muir, since I cause ye such displeasure.” Abruptly turning around, she stomped over to Elva. Tossing off her cloak, she thought it best if she tended to her own horse.
Before she had a chance to lift the latch on the stall, strong arms twirled her around. Desmond kept his hands firmly locked on her arms, and Ailsa fought the urge to kick the man. Her gaze collided with his forest-green eyes.
“What gives ye leave to speak thus?”
He was far too near, invading her space and smelling of leather, horses, and all male. “Why are ye so angry, Desmond?”
He blinked in confusion. “I gave ye no assumption. Now answer my question.”
“Ye have not set one foot inside the Great Hall in over seven days. Have I offended ye? Was I simply another lass to woo kisses upon? Or are ye always biting out your words as sharp as your sword?” she blurted out unable to contain her own fury.
He lessened his hold, and the minutes ticked by. Ailsa saw the conflict within his eyes. “I cannae be near ye,” he muttered.
She feared asking the question and turned her head away. “Why?”
Desmond released his hold when voices spilled forth from outside the stables. He placed a shaky finger to her mouth. Pushing past her, he unlatched Elva’s stall. Watching as the man made steady progress preparing her horse Ailsa remained silent. When he was finished, he handed her the reins. She quickly put on her cloak and waited for him.
Leading his horse out of the stall, he pushed open the main stable doors. Looking about, Desmond finally gestured her to follow him outward. Without a word, he took her hand and helped her onto her horse. He then quickly mounted his own and proceeded to move forward out of the bailey and through the portcullis. Nodding to two guards, he took off hastily down the path along the loch.
Fearing pain, Ailsa kept Elva at a slow and steady pace. Yet, after several moments, she relaxed, feeling joy at being outside and riding her horse. A tree limb smacked at her face, and Ailsa laughed. She gave a nudge to her mount, and the horse picked up her speed. Soon they were galloping alongside the shore. Freedom infused Ailsa.
Casting her sight out toward the loch, she watched as the geese flew gracefully over the ripples of the water. Directing her gaze back toward Desmond, she maneuvered her horse upward along a worn trail. Onward they traveled through the trees. Sunlight filtered down through the canopy of branches, and Ailsa slowed her horse. Soon they rode up along a ridge, and she shielded her eyes from the sun’s glare.
Spotting Desmond beneath a cluster of large oaks, she slowly made her way toward him. He had dismounted and stood staring out at the water below. His profile was one of quiet strength. But earlier, she had witnessed something else—a battle she fought herself. Lust. She ached to be with Desmond. Furthermore, it was more than wanting to be with the man. Ailsa found she could be herself with him. Aye, in the beginning, he treated her as a weak damsel, but no longer.
Dismounting, she gave a firm pat to Elva. “Do not get friendly with his beast.” Watching as her horse let out a snort and trotted away, Ailsa stepped near the man. The wind whipped at loose strands of her hair, and she tucked one behind her ear. Not one for being patient, she found it difficult to form any words to get him to speak, since her own tongue was twisted into knots.
“I find I cannae control myself when ye are near,” he uttered quietly, moving toward Ailsa.
She let out a shaky breath as he now stood mere inches in front of her. “What do ye wish to do?”
Desmond let out a growl and placed an arm around her waist. “This.” Lowering his head, he captured her sigh with his mouth.
Ailsa shivered, her body overcome with fire as he took his other hand and splayed it across her breast. His tongue thrust deep—stroking hers, and she clutched at his tunic. Desire hummed in places she did not know existed, making her crave more. Desmond made her feel things she never dreamed of wanting.
Gently breaking free, he traced a finger along her bottom lip. “I want ye every waking moment. Does that answer your earlier question?”
She swallowed and cupped his cheek. “Ye cannae hide forever.”
Sadness filled his eyes. “Nae. But I can until ye depart.” He took a step back and coldness slashed between them.
Realization dawned on Ailsa as surely as the sun set each day. They may desire one another, but each would leave for their own homes. Torment and confusion battled inside of her. Wiping a hand across her brow, she turned away. “As always, ye are correct.” Staring at the vastness of the place, Ailsa went and leaned against an oak.
Shocking her, Desmond strolled over to her side and cupped her chin. He smiled weakly. “Not always.”
Ailsa tapped his chest. “Ye have honor, Desmond O’Quinlan.”
“I find I am losing all sense of myself when I am around ye.” He placed a feather-like kiss on her lips. “And I believe it would be wise if Muir escorts ye outside the gates of Urquhart when ye wish to go riding.”
She angled her head. “Then why did ye this time?”
He released his hold and placed his hands on either side of the tree, trapping her against the rough bark. His eyes darkened. “To steal one more kiss. To taste what I cannae ever have. I may have honor, Ailsa, but I am a man as well. I find myself losing control with ye.”
“I will always treasure your kisses, albeit longing for more,” she uttered softly.
A devilish look came into his eyes. “Ye tempt fate, Ailsa.”
Her face heated. “I have done so all my life. It would seem—”
Letting out a curse, he captured her mouth silencing any further discussion.
Her senses sizzling, Ailsa gave herself into his keeping, demanding more as she stroked her tongue against his. His groan filled her body as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Aching in places she didn’t understand, she moved against him. Heat rippled underneath her skin, and she yearned to remove her cloak. “Too warm…” she murmured against his rough cheek.
Desmond broke free, his breathing labored. “Kisses like those will set your body on fire.”
She chuckled low. “I have never felt this way with another. I want to touch your skin with mine. I want…” Ailsa wiped a hand over her brow.
Desmond captured her hand and placed a kiss along the vein in her wrist. “What ye wish is something I desire, too. However—”
“But we cannae,” she interrupted and moved away from him. Yet, Ailsa ached for something more from Desmond other than his body.
He stepped near her. “Now ye ken why I must stay away.”
A dull ached throbbed behind her eyes, and she rubbed at her temples. “Storm is coming.”
“Ailsa?”
Barely hearing the man calling out to her, Ailsa slumped to the ground, holding her head. Shards of pain pierced her mind like blades, and she bit back a curse. “Don’t…un…understand.”
Desmond’s warm arms encircled her body, lifting her into his embrace. “Shh…mo ghrá.”
Did he just call me his love? Ailsa leaned her head against his shoulder, drifting into a black chasm of pain.