Forbidden Heart (Hearts of the Highlands #6) - Paula Quinn Page 0,17
I found the six of them. I killed them all. That is who I am.”
Silene felt a chill run through her. He was so frank. “I’m sorry you lost so much in one day. But you are more than that.”
He grunted something and rode away. She swiped some tears from her cheeks and prayed for her new friend.
They continued on in silence and finally stopped just outside of Hethersgill for prayer. She was aware of the captain’s eyes on her the entire time. She tried not to let it distract her, but God knew she’d be lying if she said it didn’t. She would speak to the captain about it tonight.
Still, she had to confess that she liked when she opened her eyes at the end of her prayers and saw him watching her. She wondered if he was feeling better. She decided to test it and smiled at him.
He smiled back and the setting sun returned one more time to shine on him.
“Who is cooking?” she asked, walking toward him. “It smells wonderful!”
“Padrig,” he told her. “We will leave fer my grandparents’ farm after we have supper. I dinna want to impose upon them by addin’ six more mouths to their table.”
“That is thoughtful of you.”
He slanted his mouth into a dubious smile. “In truth, I enjoy Padrig’s cookin’ over anyone else’s.”
She smiled and wanted to exhale a little sigh. “Padrig is very quiet,” she remarked instead.
The captain nodded. “He speaks in the silence. Ye just need to know how to listen.”
What would Mother Superior say if she knew Silene liked this group of warriors?
“How was yer first day of ridin’?” he asked on their way back.
“Too painful to speak of. My horse awaits my next error so he can make me look foolish again.”
He laughed softly. “Horses know how we feel. He will know if ye are afraid.”
“Aye, so I am doing my best to let him know I’m not, while still being kind and gentle.”
“Hmm, ye know well how to control people and animals.”
Her smile faded. “Is that what you think I am doing?”
He shrugged and looked at the men readying to eat and then ride on to Galeren’s grandparents’ farm. “Morgann smiles. Mac laughs with ye. Will was even helpin’ ye gain yer saddle. ’Tis not like any of them.”
“They are good men.”
“Aye, I know that but it doesna change the fact that they are behavin’ differently. I wouldna see them hurt.”
“Oh, good! We agree then.” She smiled slightly, hoping he saw the absurdity of his concern.
He nodded, still looking a bit concerned.
“Captain.” Her gaze on him softened. “I am making it clear to each of them that they are my friends. My friends. They are responding to kindness. ’Tis natural.”
They sat around the fire with the men and after a quick prayer of thanksgiving by Silene, they ate Padrig’s delicious hare stew with sweet and savory peach and herb sauce, mushrooms, and carrots.
She could understand why the captain enjoyed Padrig’s cooking. They ate the last of the bread with a little bit of honey and washed it down with water.
“We will have to stop in a village tomorrow for more supplies,” Mac said, swigging the last of his whisky.
They all agreed and set out for the home of the Hetheringtons’ farm. The sun had gone down hours ago, at least two hours after six. She wasn’t accustomed to staying awake after her last hour of prayer and nearly fell asleep on her horse.
“We are almost there, lass,” the captain said softly close to her and her blood felt a little warmer coursing through her veins. He felt so close that she thought she might have fallen asleep and he pulled her onto his lap and whispered in her ear.
No one called her a lass. She liked how it sounded in his deep, gritty whisper.
“I do not mind.”
“Ye are no longer afraid to sleep ootdoors, then?” he teased gently.
She shook her head. “Nay, I’m not.”
“Yer faith in God is admirable.”
She smiled, liking his humility. “He sent me you.”
Chapter Five
Galeren sat on the edge of the bed and held his grandsire’s bony, weathered hand in his strong, capable one.
Rowley Hetherington was in his last days. His breath was shallow and weak. He didn’t open his eyes to see his grandson or acknowledge him at all.
“He started his slow decline a month ago,” Galeren’s grandmother, May, had told him. “I wrote to your mother, but you know how long messengers take.”