Page 15 of Bride of the Wicked Laird (Sparks and Tartans: The MacKinnon Clan’s Romance #11)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

E verard walked away from his chamber, a smile still on his lips. There was no doubt in his mind that Davina was a most pleasant diversion from his everyday duties and the endless concerns that dogged him as laird.

He was eagerly awaiting further news from Hugo, who would be nearing the coast of France by now, if he was not already there. It would take him some days, if not weeks, to scour the docks in search of the information he required about MacDougall’s shipping. Until word came, Everard would have to curb his impatience. Something that never sat well with him.

He sauntered down to the slipway in search of Ranald Dunbar. He was expecting one of his birlinns to arrive soon with cargo from the islands. Not least of it was a consignment of whisky he’d been promised from his friends in Jura. Although there was a supply of whisky available to him from the distillers on Barra, to his taste, the whisky from Jura was peerless.

Dunbar emerged from his cottage above the slipway and hastened to greet him. “Good day, me laird.”

Together the two men inspected the repairs he’d previously ordered. While good progress had been made on the sails, the timber had not yet been replaced.

Dunbar was apologetic. “Slow progress I’m afraid. The weather has been against us.”

Everard frowned. “God’s blood, Dunbar.” He ran his fingers through his hair, and huffed. “Ye ken we need all our boats tae be seaworthy.”

Dunbar gave a conciliatory nod. “Aye. I’ll lean harder on the men.”

They left unspoken the ever-present concern that dogged them. The possibility of raiders or an attack from an enemy from across the sea. Something they could never foresee but which depended on their ships’ being watchful.

“I dinnae like tae see so many of our boats tied up fer repairs, lad. It leaves us vulnerable.”

This brought a glum nod from his gockman, but it also brought Everard’s thoughts full circle. He could not discount the possibility of Davina’s pursuers coming after her to Kiessimul.

Until he had knowledge of Davina’s past, he could not settle his mind to contemplate her future. She was charming and delightful to look upon and had wheedled her way into his thoughts in a way that left him astonished. When he was with her, he couldn’t help being gentler than he thought possible. The wee kitten and the wee lass had wrapped themselves around his heart.

Yet, she was surrounded by danger. Two ruffians had been seeking her on the Island of Mull and it was clear they meant her harm. She was running from the nunnery after having been taken there against her will as a child, yet he believed her to be of noble birth.

The question bedeviled him. Why would a nobleman discard his daughter in such a way?

“I thank ye, Dunbar. I will come again tomorrow tae review the progress.”

He left Ranald Dunbar and returned to the castle. On his way, he determined to call in to visit Healer Broderick, curious as to what the lad thought of Davina.

He found him attending to one of the castle maids who was seated on a stool, moaning in pain while Broderick bandaged her ankle. He and the lass both looked up as Everard entered the infirmary.

“Dinnae mind me, lad. I’m only here tae have a wee word wi’ ye. I’m happy tae wait while ye attend tae yer doctoring.”

He wandered outside, chuckling to himself as he noted the large puddle that still remained by the herb garden and the damage the goat had wrought to the sprouting herbs.

The maid hobbled past him aided by a stout stick. As she passed him, she bobbed her head. “The healer is free now, me laird.”

He went back inside the infirmary, looking around at the sparsely stocked shelves.

“I see ye can dae wi’ a few more jars and bottles to fill yer racks.”

Broderick wiped his hands on his apron and nodded. “Aye. Yet now Davina is working wi’ me I ken there will be more.” He gestured toward a collection of jars. “She brought me many valuable salves and creams after her visit wi’ the tinker. I owe ye me thanks, me laird.”

“I should dae more tae help ye, Broderick. Yer work is necessary and greatly valued. It is imperative that yer stocks should not diminish. Now that ye have an assistant, ye will have more time tae visit the village and ensure ye have all that is needed here.”

Broderick nodded. “I am grateful fer Davina’s skills. She has been taught well and has much experience with many ailments.” He offered a wry grin. “Although, I fear she kens little about the midwife’s trade.”

“I daresay there wasnae a great deal of call fer a midwife in the Priory.”

After speaking with him for a few more minutes, Everard left the infirmary resolving to ask Mildred to ensure that sufficient blankets and pillows were provided to Broderick. From his brief inspection, it seemed there was nothing for the sick or wounded to rest upon other than a harsh wooden frame that would do little to aid in recovery.

He was pleased to hear that his healer valued Davina’s skills and felt a small curl of pride in his chest on her behalf. Not only was she sweet and beautiful, she was a learned and skillful healer. Except for…

Of course, the lass kent aught about childbirth. Just as she would ken naught about what took place between a man and a woman in the making of such an event.

Not for the first time, he cursed his lust. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs and breathing out slowly. To his shame he couldn’t look upon the lass without a stirring of lust. Yet, there were times when he’d glimpsed a darkening in those golden eyes of hers when she’d looked into his.

He tried to rid himself of such thoughts. He was not a man who would toy with an innocent and until he had more knowledge of her heritage and learned her father’s identity, he could not contemplate a future for himself and the lass. For all he knew, she could be part of the MacNeil clan. Regardless, he would never debauch a lass as na?ve and innocent as she was.

But, for all his resolve, when he recalled holding her tenderly in his arms and seeing her lying on his bed, he felt that familiar response in his groin.

He shook his head. She was becoming his obsession. And obsessing over a lass was something he’d never done before. He made his mind up that the following day he would spar again with Ulric, one of his crew, a Viking, who was also a master swordsman. His body needed to be stretched and his wits needed sharpening. He needed to be done with mooning over a lass like some lovesick, callow, youngster.

As he entered the keep, he was greeted by Mildred.

“D’ye wish tae take refreshments in the solar, me laird?”

He’d been so caught up in his thoughts of Davina that he’d scarcely noticed his hunger. “Och. I would like that, thank ye.”

Mildred bobbed a curtsy and turned to go.

“Can ye ask the wee lass, Mistress Davina, tae join me in the solar fer a bite tae eat? I daresay she’s fair famished after all her travails.”

A tiny smile quirked Mildred’s lips as she nodded before heading back to the kitchen.

As he made his way to the solar, he found he was very much looking forward to seeing Mistress Davina and sharing a repast with her.

He mentally kicked himself in the backside. Haven’t I just told meself this has tae stop?

He was waiting by the fire in the solar wondering if he’d lost his mind when there came a tap on the door. His heart gave a resounding leap as he recognized it as belonging to Davina.

As she entered in a cloud of rose-scented fragrance, he lost his breath altogether. She was clad in a ruby velvet robe that buttoned high in the neck, with long sleeves with cuffs embroidered in gold. Cinched at the waist with a gold silk girdle, it emphasized her slender curves.

Her hair, freshly washed and bearing no traces of the grime she’d been dowsed in earlier, tumbled over her shoulders to her waist in a shining wine-colored waterfall, spliced with copper and gold.

She turned her face up to him and, at once, he was lost in the mystery of her green-flecked, amber, eyes with their long, dark, lashes.

He managed to draw a breath again. “What, nay kitten?” He kept his voice steady. To his surprise, he sounded almost nonchalant.

She flushed a pleasant shade of pink. “I didnae have the heart tae disturb her, sleeping so peacefully as she was on yer feather pillow.”

He laughed at that, struggling to keep the image of Davina’s head sleeping peacefully on his pillow. Her hair would be tangled after a bout of lovemaking, after writhing under me in…

Giving his thoughts a severe scolding, he gestured to the large armchair beside his. “Dae sit down, mistress Davina.” He eyed her up and down, hardly trusting himself, but unable to resist the luscious sight. “Ye look grand, lass. Methinks a scented bath in a warm tub daes ye the world of good.”

She grinned, a hint of mischief in those amber eyes. “It was the very thing I needed above all. It was a joy tae shed me wet clothing and bathe meself in the heavenly warmth.”

He swallowed, trying to disperse the lump that formed in his throat at the mention of her shedding her clothing. Good lord. What is wrong wi’ me?

Just then the maids arrived with platters of tasty bites, jugs of wine and mead, placing them on the small table at the center of the room.

“Come join me, lass.” He pulled out a tapestry covered chair by the table for her to sit.

Her eyes grew wide as she took in the delicacies spread before her. There was a delicious smoked fish and leek soup, tiny chicken pies made of the flakiest buttery pastry ever seen, shortbread, and a most delicious dessert of raisins and whipped cream rolled in pastry. And, of course, bannocks and raspberry jam.

He ladled some soup into a bowl and passed it to her and served some for himself.

It was always a pleasure to watch her enjoyment as she ate at his table. Her delight was clear for all to see.

He poured a goblet of red wine for them both and toasted her good health. “ Slàinte mhath . The roses are blooming in yer cheeks and it is me fervent hope they continue tae dae so.”

“Mayhap ‘tis yer pampering that has brought the roses tae bloom.”

She lowered her gaze for a moment. When she raised her green-and-gold eyes to meet his, he felt a dance of something like the sparks from the fire passing between them. Without any thought, he suddenly reached for her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss onto her soft skin.

Her loud gasp caused him wonder. Was she so unused to affection? Yet she did not pull her hand away.

“’Tis what ye deserve, Davina.”

She smiled, melting his heart.

“’Tis nay what I was told when I was at the Priory.”

“I daresay the nuns are nae fer pampering or fer compliments.”

She laughed softly. “Ye’re right. But fer me there seemed always tae be special condemnation. Dame Maria never wasted an opportunity tae describe me as beyond hope.”

He shook his head, not wishing to release her hand as she withdrew it and placed it on her lap.

“’Tis nay been me observation of ye. I ken yer good heart and yer longing tae be of service tae others. Yer work in the infirmary is greatly valued.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I wish I could believe ye. Yet Dame Maria assured me I could never appease God. That I was born with a stain that would always condemn me in the sight of good people.”

He drew in a sharp breath. He was aware of those words. He’d once heard a priest hurl them at a lad who had been born out of wedlock. There was a belief he didn’t share, that those born on the wrong side of the cloth were forever stained by their parents’ sin. Was this part of the mystery surrounding Davina? Was she born illegitimate?

This made him all the more impatient to hear what news the tinker might bring from Iona.

He spoke gently. “Dinnae mind those foolish words. ‘Tis clear the Dame Maria didnae ken ye at all. Whatever our parents dae, nay matter how wicked they may be, their actions dinnae stain us. Our souls are born pure.”

She dabbed her eyes with a finger, as if to wipe away a tear. “Me heart and soul wish naething more than tae believe yer words, me laird.”

“Ah lass. Ye cannae ken how I have struggled with that concept. Me faither was not a good man. He was cruel. Fer many years I feared that I might become like him.”

She pshawed and sniffed away the tears. “And ye grew tae be a good, fair and kind man, Everard MacNeil.” She laid her hand on his sleeve. “And I can testify before God tae the truth of that. Ye’ve saved me many times over. And I think only well of ye.”

Her words were like one of the salves in the infirmary, if there were such things as salves and balms for the soul. Warmth spread through him, and he took her hand again and kissed it, only wishing he could draw her into his embrace and place a kiss on her plush, pink, lips.

Her hand still rested on his sleeve and he touched it lightly, spreading his fingers to encircle it, and give it a brief squeeze.

She grinned at him as their eyes met and he was washed with the sense that she desired that kiss every bit as much as he did.

An inner voice whispered to him that he would do whatever was required for her to remain at Kiessimul where he could keep her safe. And close.

At the tap on the door, they drew apart and got to their feet. The spell that had been spinning around them was broken. It was Mildred, with Feather in her little cage.

“The maids woke her as they went tae tidy the bedchamber and empty the tub.” She handed over the cage to Davina and placed a small package on the table. “Ailis made up some tasty scraps fer her.”

“That is so kind.”

The maids bustled in, bundling up the empty platters to take back to the kitchen.

“’Tis time I was back in the infirmary.” Davina looked down at the velvet robe she had on and gave a soft laugh. “Methinks I had best return tae me cottage and clad meself in something more suitable fer gardening.”

He smiled, wishing he could find an excuse to keep her with him for a little longer.

Again. Foolishness.

Before leaving the room, she turned, offering a curtsy. “I thank ye again, me laird, fer all yer kindness.”

“’Tis naught, lass. Ye are me guest and yer wellbeing is me concern.”

When the door closed behind her, leaving only a drift of rose fragrance in the air, the room seemed somehow drab and dim, as if the candlelight had been snuffed out.