Page 32

That boy was Kieran. Maisie could not imagine what he was thinking at this moment, but the healer clearly knew the story. Why did he not simply tell her the boy was him?

“I cannae say.”

By his tone, he would not tell her, even if it meant walking away from here without the information she clearly had.

Tell her.

But Maisie’s silent plea went unnoticed as the healer stood. “It seems we’ve nothing more to discuss.”

“Please,” he tried again, Kieran’s voice as deferential as Maisie had ever heard it. “I’ve good reason to keep that information to myself, but I beg you to share what you know.”

For a moment, it seemed as if she might relent. The healer stared at him for a long moment, glanced at Maisie, and then shook her head.

“‘Tis not my story to tell.”

“Whose story is it, then?” he asked. And when it seemed his pleas would produce little, Kieran begged again. “Please, my lady.”

“Know only there are others who will give the information you seek more freely.”

With that, the healer left them without a backward glance.

“Kieran,” she said, immediately after the woman left. “What have you done?”

His jaw clenched. Kieran was obviously resolved. Finally, he turned to her. “She cannae know.”

“Why?”

Kieran stared into her eyes, as if wishing she could guess the reason. But Maisie could not. There was no reason she could think of for not divulging the boy was him. The healer knew the story, obviously. Likely knew Kieran’s true identity. So why not just tell her?

“Once I do, there is no going back.”

“I do not ken.”

He sighed. “She willnae keep the information to herself. My parents . . .” He swallowed. “My true parents, if they are alive . . . they will know of me. My family will know of me.”

“Is that not what you wish for?” Confused, Maisie leaned forward so they may speak more softly. In doing do, a flash of their night together, coupled with Kieran’s brief glance down at her lips, made Maisie forget their conversation for a moment.

How she wished to reach out and lay her hand on his shoulder. To be closer to him. Kiss him. Comfort him.

Which was silly, of course. Kieran was a warrior and needed no comfort from her. The way he looked at her, willing for her to ken . . .

Finally, she did.

“You left them. Refused to speak to them. But are not yet willing to let go of the only family you know.”

His silence was the only answer Maisie needed to confirm the truth of her words.

“Kieran, if you will it, you can have two families. Knowing your true one does not mean you’re no longer a Duncraig.”

“I am not a Duncraig.”

“Aye,” she argued. “You are. But you’ve just let a woman who can help you leave, and now you know no more than you did when we came yesterday.”

For the first time since they left their bedchamber, Kieran smiled. “Aye, but I do.”

Her brows drew together in confusion. “Aye?”

“Aye.”