Her mother: Maeve, treasure these small moments in the seasons. Each has its own special gifts. For autumn, it is the colors that dance in my heart and make me smile whenever I step outside the castle walls. The yellows and golds, the deep reds and rich greens. How beautiful the forest is at this time of year.
Her father: Maeve, I know ye miss yer mother as I do, but ye must set yer eyes ahead of ye. I wish ye would find yerself a husband before I pass on. Ye need someone to take care of ye.
She’d asked him a question she nearly regretted.Have ye moved on, Papa?
Ye know I have no’, but ’tis different for ye. Maddie is my heart, my love for my entire life. We are yer parents. ’Tis a different bond. Find the keeper of yer heart. Someday ye will. Promise me ye will no’ turn him away when he comes for ye.
She glanced back at the group of guards chatting near the gates of the curtain wall. Jamie, Connor, Loki, Kenzie, Finlay MacNichol, and Maitland. The only Menzie in the group, and he stood out to her above the others.
Was Maitland the keeper of her heart? He had been the one who rescued her when she’d fallen in the cold rain, carrying her inside the keep. He’d helped her in the orchard yesterday. But any Grant would do as much for her.
And he’d kissed her. Aye, he was the only one to do that.
She took a few steps to stroll among the many graves, heading toward the bubbling stream not far away. When shewas certain the men would not hear her, she began to ask her questions.
“Papa, can I trust him with my secret? What will happen when he learns my fault?”
As if answering her, a warmth washed through her with the words “Trust him.”
How she wished she knew that message had truly come from her father. Then she would trust Maitland, love him with all her heart. Indeed, she thought she might already. Last eve, she fell asleep with memories of how wonderful it had felt to be in his arms.
But how would Maitland react when he knew the truth?
Footsteps approached her from behind, and Kyla’s voice reached her. “Ye are tormented, wee sister.”
Maeve turned to her. Kyla carried the beauty of their father in her face and the beauty of their mother in her heart. “I am a wee bit.”
“Ye can trust him, Maeve. ’Tis no’ as bad a secret as ye think it is.”
“Will it never go away, Kyla? The darkness. The nightmares.” Her tears spilled from her eyes as if they’d been stored up for decades.
“It may not, but it could. Sleeping with Finlay makes me feel safer. Ye never slept in Papa’s chamber once ye grew old enough to think on finding a lad of yer own. If ye marry, yer husband could send yer fears away for good.”
She wished to believe Kyla, wished to believe that it were possible that someone could make all her troubles leave her, but what if it didn’t happen? What if she married someone—perhaps Maitland—and things got worse?
Kyla gathered her in her arms and hugged her tight. “I canno’ make a decision for ye, but I wish ye would trust Maitland. He’s a fine man. I know ye have feelings for him,Maeve, and Papa would be pleased to see ye marry him. Mama always loved Maitland, so she would approve as much. I wish they were here for ye, but they are no’, so ye must trust yer heart.”
Everything Kyla said was true. She couldn’t disagree with a word of it. She sighed. Perhaps it was herself she needed to trust, as much as Maitland.
Kyla let her go. “I must return, but please think on it while ye are taking yer daily stroll.”
“I will, dear sister. You are surely wiser than I. Thank you.”
Kyla returned to the castle, and Maeve made her way over to her favorite resting spot, a boulder near the stream. In the summer, she would remove her hose and wiggle her toes in the cool water. But not today.
She sat down and drew her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. How she wished she knew what had happened to her when she was a bairn. Something from that time must be the cause of all this, and if she could only discover it, she might conquer it and all her nightmares would go away.
But she had no memory of the time when she lived with Hew, the evil bastard. Her memories began only after dear Aline had saved her by bringing her to Clan Grant. Those who were there at the time told her she’d climbed onto Alex Grant’s lap at the age of three and never left it.
Her memories of her father’s lap probably began from the age of five or six. Whenever she was having a difficult day, he would sit nearby and pat his lap, indicating that she was welcome to join him.
And she always did. She would climb onto his lap and lean back against him, his warmth wrapping around her like the thickest plaid. Her thumb often ended up in her mouth, so she was told, but that part she didn’t recall.
Her mother used to say that her father would sit with her in his lap even after she fell asleep, conducting his meetings with his guards while she slept, oblivious to all that went on around her.
The world always looked better from Alex Grant’s lap, his large hand protecting her from all the evils of the world, no one daring to move her.
No Hew, no other bad men in the world. No guards with evil grins.
