Page 3

Now what?

Patrick MacDowylt masked his impatience, pasting a smile on his face to greet his sister’s hurried approach. It wasn’t Christiana’s fault that his leaving Tordenet had been delayed so many times. It wasn’t the fault of any one being he could point to. The delays had just seemed to keep coming, especially after he realized why he was so anxious to return to Castle MacGahan.

“Thank the Fates I caught you, Paddy,” Christiana said breathlessly, using the old endearment he’d rarely heard since their childhood.

She laid her hand on his arm as she reached him, her tension seeping into his skin as if it were a living thing.

“What troubles you, little sister?”

“Orabilis,” she answered. “I’ve a feeling something has gone wrong on her journey back to her cottage. It’s as if…” She paused, shaking her head, her eyes filled with worry. “It’s as if I can hear her calling out to me for help.”

If the old witch who’d raised his sister after their mother’s death were to be in need of help, Patrick had little doubt but that it would be Christiana who would be in her thoughts. And, considering Christiana’s Gifts, he could hardly discount her concern.

“What would you have of me?”

“I ken yer anxious to be on yer way, brother, and I’d ask this of Chase if he hadn’t already left with the herdsmen to inspect the condition of the winter grazing pastures.”

“And?” Patrick encouraged, biting back on his need to speed her along in the explanations so that he might find out what fresh new delay the Fates had in store for him.

“Could you check upon her for me? Please? It should be no great deviation from your own route, as you’ll be traveling along the same roads she took.” Christiana dipped her head before casting a glance up at him. “More or less.”

Exactly as he’d feared. The delay hid itself in the more or less portion of his sister’s rationalization. In truth, the path he’d take would follow Orabilis’ own only for a few miles before he’d need to break to the south.

Not that he would deny Christiana the assistance she sought, not when she’d asked so little of him over the years. And most especially not when her husband was away doing exactly what Patrick had advised him to do to prepare for the coming winter.

“Very well,” he said, smiling down at her. “Though I’ve little doubt that yer old witch is perfectly fine, I’ll see to her well-being, myself.”

“Oh, Paddy,” Christiana squealed, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. “Yer such a fine brother. I’m going to miss you, you ken? Yer always welcome here at Tordenet. It is, after all, yer home as much as it is mine.”

“My thanks, little sister,” he said, gently removing her arms from around his neck so that he could straighten up. “Now, doona you fash yer pretty head over Orabilis for one more moment, aye?”

“Aye,” she agreed, backing away as he mounted the big, black horse he favored.

A slight pressure on the reins and he trotted toward the portcullis, turning only once to lift his hand in farewell before passing through the gates and out onto the road.

The creaking of chains sounded as the iron grate slid shut behind him and, for the first time in many days, he felt as if he could draw the breath of a free man.

He loved his little sister and had nothing but admiration for the man she’d married. Christiana and Chase had gone above and beyond in their efforts to make him feel welcome during his stay. But since that night out on the parapet, he’d wanted nothing so much as to be gone from this place. On that night, alone in the glow of the setting sun, he’d realized that the happiness he saw his sister and her new husband sharing could well be his own. All he’d needed was to accept his feelings for the woman he’d left behind at Castle MacGahan. If she felt for him as he felt for her? Well, then, everything else be damned. They’d find a way to make it work.

He licked his lips and could well imagine the taste of her lingered there still, even though it had been over three months since he’d been compelled to steal the kiss that had changed his life.

A smile spread over his face as he anticipated his future for perhaps the first time since his childhood. As the third son of the MacDowylt laird, his lot in life had never been to marry well and settle into a home of his own. As third son, the best he could hope for was a trusted place in his brother’s home.

But all of that had changed the night he’d dared to rashly give in to his desire to kiss Syrie. From that moment, the need to be with her had taken root. The root had spread as he’d spent time with Christiana and Chase. If ever there had been a love story that shouldn’t have been, their story was it. If they could find their happiness, then there was a chance for him to find his, as well.

It wouldn’t be long now. A few hours’ delay, at most, as he checked on Orabilis and then he’d ride like the wind, determined to reach Castle MacGahan in record time. The stars in his life were aligning at last.

His optimism lasted no more than an hour, dying a sudden death as, in the distance, he spotted the wagon Orabilis had been driving when she’d left Tordenet the day before. From all appearances, his sister had been right in her worries. The wagon lay tipped on its side, the horses and their rigging nowhere in sight.

For a moment Patrick considered that Orabilis might have continued on her journey home with the missing animals. But when the bundle of cloth beside the wagon began to move, he knew he’d been wrong.

Urging his mount to speed, he reached the wagon in a matter of seconds and jumped from his horse’s back to kneel beside the old woman.

“Tell me where yer hurt, Orabilis,” he said, praying she’d open her eyes. When she did, he slid his hand over her forehead. “Can you speak to me?”

“Of course I can speak, whelp,” she growled, though not with her usual vigor.

For a fact, she actually smiled, in spite of her words.

“Can you stand?”

She shook her head. “No’ on my own, I fear. My knee fair twisted under me when the wagon sent me for a tumble. Save that, I could have walked home by now.”

Patrick lifted her in his arms, ignoring her little squeak of surprise when he stood.

“Here now, lad, what do you think yer about? Put me down.”

He ignored her protests, climbing up on his horse while doing his best not to jostle her too much. “We’ll get you back to Tordenet where Christiana can have a look at you.”

“Oh, no, you willna,” the old woman protested. “You’ll take me to my own cottage, where I belong. I can see to my own healing, thank you very much.”

“I’m sure you can,” he said quietly, continuing on the course he’d already set. “But we’ll no’ take a chance on that for now.”

“Do you have any idea what I could do to you for yer disobedience, lad?” she protested, actually putting some strength into her struggles this time, though it wasn’t enough to deter him.

“I’ve an idea,” he answered, urging the horse to move more quickly. “But I’m also well aware of what my wee sister is capable of when she’s riled. That being the case, we’ll give her a go at you first. Then, when she gives us leave, you’ve my word that I’ll personally see you home safely. Now quiet yer fussing before you make that knee worse than it already is.”

As if mollified by his promise, the old woman stilled in his arms and seemed to relax.

They rode in silence for close to an hour before she spoke again.

“Was it by accident you found me?” she asked.

“Only if you’d consider Christiana’s concerns for you an accident,” he responded, grinning down at her.

“I see,” she murmured, as if considering what to say next. “I take it that means you detoured from yer travels back to Castle MacGahan to check on me.”

“Aye,” he responded. “It was the only way to soothe my sister’s fears. Well-founded fears, I might add, considering yer plight when I came upon you.”

Again they rode in silence, this time until the white walls of Tordenet shone in the distance. As they approached the big gate, Orabilis spoke once again.

“You always were a good brother to Christiana, Patrick MacDowylt, and I can see you’ve grown into a fine man, as well. Though you rescued me for the sake of yer sister, you still rescued me, all the same. For that rescue, I’m in yer debt.” The old woman was quiet for a moment, then she turned her face up to him, a wide smile stretching her thin lips. “And let me assure you, lad, there are far worse things than having old Orabilis owe you a favor, aye?”

“Aye,” he agreed, returning her smile. “I’d well suppose there are.”

Who could say? Though he couldn’t for the life of him imagine a need arising, one day he just might want to call on her for that favor.