Page 50

Chapter

H e was gone.

When Maisie had woken up, her bed had felt incredibly empty. She’d been glad for that emptiness since Baldwin had died. Though he’d kept his own bedchamber, when he did visit her, it was never a pleasant experience. Anything but that, in fact.

Last night, however?

“My lady?”

Alice looked at her as if it was not the first time she’d attempted to gain Maisie’s attention.

She’d gone about her duties this morn, her usual gusto absent.

Not only had her bed been empty, but it did not appear Kieran, or his brother, were coming to break their fast. They’d have done so by now, and it took all her will not to check the stables to see if their horses were there. She should not care.

“Aye, Alice?” She needed to stop thinking of last eve. Stop thinking of him.

“I’ve come from the stables. The horses are fed and groomed.”

Their stableboy had taken ill, and Alice currently fulfilled his duties.

“Very good,” she said, about to give Alice other duties for the day.

“Also, my lady, the Duncraig warrior. The one who has been staying each night?”

“Kieran Duncraig,” she said, a vision of him atop her not one she was able to stop from entering her mind. “Aye?”

“He asked that I tell you he and his brother will return later this eve.”

So he’d left, as she suspected, but not without word. Maisie attempted to appear unaffected. “Thank you, Alice.”

She bobbed a curtsy, certainly not necessary, and walked away. For the remainder of the morn, Maisie had one thing on her mind. Namely, Kieran. What would he say when he returned? Would he learn anything that day now that his brother was aiding him?

What were they to do about their predicament? Because there was no doubt, it was a predicament surely. Each day that passed, she’d become more and more fond of him. When the door of the inn opened, something Maisie typically did not notice as it happened often enough, something drew her eyes to it.

Sure enough, it was a woman, and not one she’d ever seen before. Two men followed her inside. Certainly she was one of the most beautiful women Maisie had ever seen. And she was looking directly at her.

Something drew Maisie to the newcomer, and she greeted the group herself.

“Welcome to the Red Stag Inn. I am Maisie, the innkeeper here. Are you seeking rooms for the evening?”

“Perhaps,” the woman said as her companions found a table. She unclasped her cloak and took it from her shoulders. She wore a simple, but elegant, deep green riding gown. “I am looking for my husband, whom I am to meet here.”

Niall’s wife.

“You are Lady Avelina of Clan Duncraig?”

She smiled at that. “‘Tis odd to hear myself called so, but aye, I am indeed.”

Odd because she was the sister of Clan MacKinlay’s chief.

“I am acquainted with your brother-in-law,” she said.

“Kieran has been staying at this inn while . . .” She stopped.

Of course Lady Avelina would know what he was doing, but it was not Maisie’s place to speak of it.

“He and your husband have gone into Aberdale, my lady.”

“Ahh, of course. I could join them.” She seemed unsure how to proceed.

Maisie offered her a choice. “Or you might rest and allow me to serve you a meal first? It seems rain threatens, and you would do well to avoid a storm.”

“Indeed,” she said. “I will await them here. Did my husband procure rooms already?”

“He did,” Maisie said. “I am happy to show you to yours. Will you require two additional ones for your men?” Thankfully the priest and his retinue who had taken four of her rooms had left that morn, which allowed her to offer a room for each of them.

“Aye, if you have them.”

“I do, my lady.”

Maisie fulfilled both of her promises, feeding and housing the newcomers. As she worked, she could not help but glance at the woman, who so easily conversed with the warriors with whom she traveled.

What must it have been like, to marry a man who was your enemy?

Had these men, and the others at Duncraig, readily accepted her?

It wasn’t until later that day she had the opportunity to ask her any of these questions.

When Lady Avelina came from her room, refreshed and looking for a path to walk, Maisie volunteered to accompany her.

“I am sorry it dinnae rain, that I advised you to stay at the inn rather than travel to Aberdale.”

“‘Tis of no concern,” she said, both women pulling their cloaks tight as they walked the same path Maisie had with Kieran days before. “Niall would likely have wished me to stay and wait for him. But I am impatient to speak with Kieran. You’ve come to know him, then? How goes he?”

Maisie was uncertain how much she should say. “He is well. As you can expect, he was hesitant when your husband arrived, but the two have reconciled.”

Lady Avelina seemed surprised by her candor. “So you know of their disagreement.”

“I do,” Maisie said.

Lady Avelina looked at her even closer than before. “I am glad to hear of their reconciliation. Kieran left before Niall could speak with him properly.”

“I told him ‘twas ill-advised and urged him to return and do so but . . .” She shrugged. “Kieran does not seem to listen well.”

At that, Lady Avelina laughed. “A trait he shares with his brother and their father.”

“I am afraid Kieran does not seem as ready to forgive the latter as he was his brother.”

“So he has told you . . . everything?”

“Aye,” Maisie said softly, avoiding her gaze. Until she could not any longer.

Lady Avelina stopped, forcing her to do the same.

“You are the owner of the Red Stag Inn?”

“Indeed.”

“The sole owner?”

She knew what Lady Avelina was asking. “My husband, the previous owner, passed. So aye, I am its sole owner.”

That, it seemed, was all Lady Avelina needed to hear. Her eyes widened as she continued to stare at her, for so long that Maisie nearly looked away. “You are in love with him.”

In love? Nay, she was not in love with him. She’d given herself to him, aye. Was well pleased by him. But in love? She began to shake her head, but Lady Avelina put up her hand.

“You may deny it to yourself, but you’ve no need to deny it to me. I can see it in your eyes. Hear it in your voice. I myself fell in love not long ago and can see the signs easily.”

In love. With Kieran?

“I have no wish to marry again. Nor does your brother-in-law wish for it.”

Again, she laughed. A beautiful, tinkling sound so different than Maisie’s own harsh laugh. “You may not wish it. And Kieran may think he does not either. But that means little to your heart. Seeing you, speaking with you . . .” She smiled. “I’ve no doubt Kieran feels the same.”

“Nay, my lady, you are wrong. I do not . . . he does not . . .”

“We shall see soon enough.” Lady Avelina nodded down the path. “Come, we will talk and become acquainted.”

She said it as if there was a reason they should become so, and that reason was Kieran.

But Lady Avelina was wrong. Even if Maisie did love Kieran—was it possible?

—that did not mean he loved her. Neither did it matter.

She’d not give another man, even one such as Kieran, control over her ever again.

Lady Avelina, who asked she call her by Lina only, was as kind as she was beautiful.

She asked about Maisie and told her of her own childhood.

How she’d lost her father and so many other relatives at the Battle of Black Friars.

Avelina told her how she met Niall, and of their courtship, as they turned back toward the inn.

“Of course I had not wanted to fall in love with my enemy.”

“Nor do I want to fall in love with any man,” Maisie blurted before thinking better of it. Her tongue seemed to loosen of its own accord around this woman. “But your enemy,” she said, hoping to move on. “That could not have been easy.”

“My brother is still wroth with me, though Niall’s clan has been very welcoming. More so than either of us expected. His father took some time.” She shrugged. “As will you.”

Maisie glanced at her walking companion but said nothing.

“You are reluctant because of your husband,” she continued. “Which I can ken easily. But Kieran is an entirely different sort of man. He is very much like Niall, in fact, but with an even easier temperament than my husband.”

“That may be so, but . . .” There was something she had to ask the woman. “You’ve not yet spoken to Kieran and know not his feelings toward me. And I am but an innkeeper, no lady born. Yet you seem . . . .” She did not know how to finish, precisely.

“Excited by the prospect of you with my brother-in-law? Because I am. I’ve wished for a sister my whole life, and can easily surmise your character, noble born or nay. You and Kieran, ‘twill happen. I am sure of it.”

She laughed. The woman was mad. “I willnae marry again.”

“You will.”

“Kieran does not care for me in that way.”

“He does.”

Maisie shook her head. “You cannae know such a thing.”

Avelina winked at her, as if she knew a secret, just as they approached the inn. It was not possible, however. She’d just arrived, had not spoken to Kieran, and so it was not possible. Yet, the lady seemed very certain of herself.

No matter.

She and Kieran were simply not meant to be.