Page 15

Chapter

Fifteen

T here were precious few places in most keeps for privacy, save a bedchamber, which was, in this instance, unacceptable. The next time Niall found himself alone with Lina in a bedchamber, he would damn well be making love to her.

Something he was not prepared to do.

She might be MacKinlay’s sister, and some might be glad to see Niall defile her, but he was not that sort of man. Neither would his father condone such an action.

Having spied a small courtyard earlier on his way to the gardens, Niall led Lina there.

“Tell me how you learned to shoot so well?” he asked.

Though Niall may have expected she could use that bow Lina carried with her as they traveled, he’d not have expected her to use it so well. Few men could hit the center of a bullseye at that distance and even fewer in one try.

“When your father is killed, along with many of his men, and then your mother dies within a year of it, you do not wish to rely on others to protect you.”

Lina said it too casually, as if she did not speak of the death of her parents. He understood well her desire to protect herself from the pain, but Niall wondered also if she’d ever allowed herself to grieve.

“You say it as if you speak of the weather or some other mundane topic of conversation.”

“I’ve become well accustomed to the fact.”

Again, unlike the impassioned woman he’d spied many times these past days, this Lina was anything but. Rather than press her, Niall instead navigated her to a small courtyard between the bakehouse and the main keep.

Two stone benches would serve to keep them well enough apart.

Sitting, Niall adjusted his sword and looked up to see Lina gazing at him in a way that made him glad they were here and not in a bedchamber.

He grew hard at her look, and only a deep breath, a readjustment of his position, and thoughts of battle—not the sort now occupying his mind but the kind his kinsmen did not return home from—helped reverse his discomfort.

“Your story,” she said, reminding him that it was his story, not hers, that had been promised.

All in his clan knew of it, so ’twas no secret. Yet, he was reluctant to tell the tale to Lina. But Niall had promised.

“There is a healer on the outskirts of our village. For many years, she claimed to be visited by the devil. Even claimed to have played cards with him. Once, she’d said, the devil became so angry he’d lost that he tossed the table on which they played into a nearby lake.

Despite the woman’s skills as a healer, few believed her, of course. ”

He sighed, remembering. “As a jest, a friend and I began to visit her cottage in the eve. We would make noises outside her window. Pretend to be the very devil she claimed visited her.”

“Devils, indeed,” Lina said, smiling. She’d not be doing so when he finished his tale.

“One eve, she chased us. Tripped and twisted her ankle. An old woman even back then, ’twas an injury she never recovered from. Since that night, she has used a walking stick to aid her, the ankle not healing properly.”

“How old were you?”

“I’d not yet seen ten summers.”

“A boy, then.”

“Aye. Even so. . .”

“This is why you smile so rarely?”

Niall shrugged. “Says my mother. Though, in truth, I do not remember a time that I smiled as often as my brother. The man sees good everywhere.”

“But you do not?”

“I see it in some places. But I also see evil. Greed. Like you, I do not wish to relinquish control of my fate to others.”

Lina looked down at her hands, which were folded atop her lap. When she looked up, ’twas not judgment he saw there but sadness.

Sadness for him.

“I doubt you were judged as harshly for something that occurred when you were a boy as you’ve judged yourself. Surely as a warrior you’ve ended men’s lives?”

’Twas an abrupt change of topic.

“Indeed.”

“Yet you mourn more for the healer’s injury than for the wife or children of the men you’ve slain?”

“The two are very different. Warriors enter battle knowing they may not survive. They accept the consequences of their choice.”

“Do men truly choose to become warriors or are they forced to do so to defend their family and clan?”

“’Tis both, I suppose.”

“Whether the cause be just or unjust? Which makes me think of the healer.”

He thought about that question for a time. At least, Niall attempted to concentrate on it. He found Lina’s beauty, the soft lilting of her voice, quite distracting.

“Men may fight for a cause they find unjust, but their chief, or king, decrees otherwise. Though I do not understand how your question relates to the healer.”

Lina blinked. “It does not, really. ’Twas simply a thought that occurred to me as we spoke.”

Niall could not contain the bubble of laughter that formed in his stomach. He’d thought she was leading to some grand conclusion, but instead, Lina simply went round and round without necessarily returning to the beginning.

“You are a unique woman, Lina,” he said. “I thought for certain you were looking for a way to assuage me from my guilt.”

“If you’ve not been able to do it yourself after so many years, ’tis doubtful that would be a successful endeavor for me.”

“Indeed,” he agreed.

“So what, then, do you hope to accomplish with your questions?” Niall asked, curious.

“Just to get to know the man sitting across from me better.”

“Because?” Niall allowed his vanity to ask the question.

Lina frowned, a rare sight for her. This time, it was she who was reluctant to speak.

“Why do you wish to get to know me better, Lina?” he asked again.

Sitting up a bit straighter, her chin rising, she looked him straight in the eye. “Because,” she said, “I have decided there is a likelihood we will marry, and I would know my future husband before I commit to such a state.”

Nothing, precisely nothing, could have prepared Niall for her decree.

Or for his body’s reaction to the implication of her words.