Forbidden Heart (Hearts of the Highlands #6) - Paula Quinn Page 0,20
carved by a master sculptor.
“I need to get her to John and find a priest fer confession.”
His grandsire laughed. “’Tis good to see you, lad.”
“I will return to see ye again when I return her to St. Patrice’s.”
“Why not let someone else do it?” his grandsire put to him. “I’m sure the high steward has other capable leaders.”
Galeren shook his head. “I wouldna trust anyone else to guard her the way I can. She was injured once already because I wasna watchin’ her.”
“What happened?”
He told Rowley about the men who had tried to abduct her and how he’d killed the man who’d hurt her.
“Good,” his grandsire said. His eyes were lit with fire. Galeren could almost taste the ash. Rowley Hetherington had been a formidable, fearsome man in his younger days. But when he came home from a raid, he had a wife he loved at home waiting for him.
Galeren thought he might like that, too. He’d never had thoughts like these before. He never thought he’d live long enough to have a wife and children to love. If he were to ever marry…
“Son.” His grandsire covered Galeren’s hand with his and pulled him closer. “You should take her back to the priory now. She is no match for schemes of devious men. She will die.”
Galeren blinked his eyes. “Grandsire, how could she die? What are ye sayin’? That I should disobey my orders from the high steward?”
“What?” His grandsire gave him a blank look. Then he said, “I’m sleepy. Bring your grandmother to me.”
Galeren stared at him and gave his heart a moment to slow down. His grandsire must have fallen asleep for a moment and spoke his dream. “I will bring her to ye.” He leaned to kiss his grandfather’s forehead and then left the room.
Why had his grandfather said Silene could die? By whose hands? The church’s? Something frigid cooled his blood and dried his mouth. Was he leading her into danger? Was the warning just words slipping from an old man’s mouth? Aye. It was ramblings. Nothing more.
When he found his grandmother, she told him to see to his friends. “You know the house, my dear. Put everyone where you wish.”
He looked around the house. Did he remember the rooms? Were there three or four? No matter, Silene would take a separate bedroom. He and his men would sleep in the large front room.
When it came time to settle in for the night, he walked Silene to her door.
“How is he?” she asked him, passing him a quick smile.
“My grandmother says he looks stronger than he has in a month.”
“God is good.”
He stopped at the door and nodded. “Father Timothy’s favorite words.”
“I wish I could hear more about him. Is he like the priests I will go before in Ayrshire?”
Galeren knew some of the leaders of the church. Father Timothy was not like most, but he didn’t want to frighten her about the stern demeanors of the church. “No. He is different.” He opened the door for her and stepped aside without going in. “If ye need anythin’, I will be just ootside the door.”
She seemed to forget about the church. Her eyes opened wider. “Outside the door? You…you will sleep outside the door?”
“Aye. ’Tis my duty.”
“Even here?”
“Everywhere.”
Her smile softened on him, making his bones ache a little. “Very well, then. Good dreams, Captain.”
Why did he feel the need to keep her near? Protect her from an unseen, unknown enemy? He shook his head at his grandsire’s warning.
“Good dreams, lass.”
He watched her close the door then he turned and slid down the cool wood. He removed his boots, but he didn’t remove his belt or swords. He trusted his men and had no doubt that Silene was safe, but it was his nature to be cautious. People could try to break in from outside.
He closed his eyes, well used to sleeping on the hard ground. He heard a sound from the other side of the door. A moment later, he felt her move against the door and tried not to smile.
“Captain?”
“Aye, lass?”
“Are you very sleepy?”
He opened his eyes and looked at the door. “No, lass.”
“Nor am I.”
He heard the sigh she let out almost seeping through the wood and into his bones.
“Will you tell me about your Father Timothy?”
“He is more like a grandsire to us than the town priest,” he told her, pressing his ear gently to the door. “He devoted himself to my uncle, Cain, after the English murdered my grandparents and separated the