Page 9

Alistair. The most serious of her suitors and the only one Avelina was truly considering. His clan was an ally of MacKinlay. He was handsome. Kind. There was nothing that did not recommend the man as a potential husband. Except. . .

“Aye,” she admitted. “My heart has never leapt looking at him as it did today.”

Mary sighed. “With the chief’s son.”

As if they would be talking about any other. When Avelina had found Mary after her brother decreed they would leave soon, very reluctantly agreeing for her to come, she’d told her everything. Of course, the maid already knew there were Duncraig clansmen in their keep. But she’d been more than a little surprised by the news Avelina carried. Mary had expected distaste, and anger, and of course, Avelina held both in her heart for the two men, but she could also not deny her body’s response.

It was the same as in the courtyard but more so. Every time they exchanged a glance. . .

Except, she hated him. She hated him, his brother, his family, his clan. If only someone would inform her stupid heart of the fact so that it may beat normally again in his presence.

“Aye,” she admitted. “’Tis wrong. I know it to be so. Of course, I hate the man.”

Mary handed Avelina the satchel. “As you should.”

“I do.”

“’Tis well.”

“Aye, very well.”

The women’s eyes locked. Mary sighed. “My lady. Do not. He can never be yours.”

“I do not wish him to be mine.”

Lie.

“And yet, your eyes sparkle with anticipation.”

“To go on an adventure.”

“With the Duncraig clansman.”

“He will be there, aye.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Listen to me well. You claim to hate the man, but those are merely words coming from your mouth. I believe you want to hate him but realize he was just a young man, as you were a young woman, when the Battle of the Black Friars occurred. You know he is as much to blame as me, and because of it, you allow the possibility that he is not a bad man. One you are clearly attracted to.”

As always, Mary’s insight was keen.

“I hate the man,” she insisted.

“And like him too. But you must know, he can never be yours. Your brother would never, ever, agree to a match with a Duncraig.”

“Nor should he,” Avelina agreed.

“Nor should he.” Mary sighed. “Now go before they leave you.”

Avelina gave her maid, her friend, a quick hug, and knowing she was right—’twas very possible they might leave her behind—Avelina sped through the corridors back to the hall. Indeed, ’twas empty.

Avelina made her way into the courtyard and breathed a sigh of relief spotting the riding party apparently waiting for her. Attaching her satchel and mounting her palfrey, Avelina avoided his gaze. One that had been on her from the moment she stepped into the courtyard.

The sight of MacKinlay and Duncraig clansmen riding alongside one another caused quite a stir. Indeed, ’twas not until they were well past the village that the five riders were not the subject of curious stares.

I want to speak to him.

She should not want that. And was unsure how to facilitate it with the chief’s son and his brother well ahead of her, Ewan, and Fergus. There was no way to do such a thing. Or so she thought. Until, a short time later, the chief’s second fell back to speak to her brother briefly. She could not hear their conversation, but Avelina did speed up her mount to ride on the other side of the Duncraig warrior.

He caught her eye. And, apparently finished with her brother, allowed the others to ride ahead so the two of them remained in the back.