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She slept.

Sated. Happy, he hoped. And though he was glad for it, the same thought ran through his mind for some time, sleep evading him.

What have I done?

13

Chapter

She’d woken more than once in the night, tucked into his side. While it had felt exceedingly odd, it was not an unpleasant sensation either. Quite the opposite. Though not as good as what he’d done to her last eve.

As she rose from the bed and dressed, Maisie could not stop thinking of Kieran’s kisses. Or his fingers touching the most intimate parts of her. Or the pleasure those fingers had brought her. What would it be like to make love to such a man?

Maisie would dearly love to know, but the consequences of such an act were too great. She needed to return to the inn, keep last eve as a memory to warm her bed during the long winter nights to come and remember how far she’d come. For a woman alone in the world, she had done well. And it was imperative Maisie remembered that.

The door opened.

“You are awake.”

Maisie turned toward him, willing her cheeks not to flood with heat. They ignored her, of course. He did not make a move toward her, but Kieran did smile.

“You’ve naught to be embarrassed of, Maisie. You are a widow and have done nothing untoward.”

“Except,” she argued, “you are not my husband.”

“Nay,” he agreed. “I am not. But if two unmarried people cannae find pleasure in each other, then I personally do not wish to follow such a God who prevents it.”

His words, though blasphemous, were not ones she disagreed with, and she told him so. “We’ve no priest in the village but a traveling one. All his teachings are not ones I agree with always, but I’ve never uttered such words aloud.”

“Our priest,” he began, and then stopped. So often Kieran did that, as if forgetting his home was no longer his. At least, in Kieran’s mind.

“You should speak with your brother, if no one else. Perhaps there is an explanation—”

“Aye, there is an explanation. My parents and brother knew I was a MacKinlay and did not tell me. ‘Tis a simple matter, that.”

She disagreed. “They are the same family as before. Perhaps if you just spoke to them?”

“Come along,” he said, this time ignoring her words. “The healer is due in the hall any moment.”

Maisie adjusted her gown and followed him toward the door. “You should have told me so,” she said, knowing that if they lost the healer again it could be some time before they could speak to her again.

“I just did,” he teased as she approached.

Stepping aside, he allowed Maisie to walk past him. Though Kieran smiled, he did not move toward her. Attempt to touch her, or kiss her, or make any other reference to what happened last eve.

A pity, aye. But a relief too, mayhap? Maisie could not decide which.

By the time they made their way belowstairs, the healer was in the hall already. She sat at the same table they’d occupied the day before. She appeared so wee and frail. Until she turned toward them. The woman’s eyes were sharp.

“May we sit with you?” Kieran asked.

“I’ve little time,” the woman said, gesturing to the empty seats. “Hurry along, then.” Both she and Kieran did as the woman asked. “Why do you ask about the missing boy?”

Would Kieran tell the healer his truth? He’d seemed reluctant to do so, and yet if she were to trust him with the information she clearly kept close to her chest . . .

“I may have information on his whereabouts.”

That did not seem to please her. “I would know why you ask about a boy none have spoken about for many years.”