Chapter Four
Maeve struggles with her life and her memories of her adoptive parents.
The next morn, Maeve stood in front of two gravestones, tears misting her vision.
The Grant graveyard was not far from the gates so the guards could always keep watch over the sacred area, which meant she could go there without excessive fear.
The large cross carved of the strongest oak tree stood larger than any others.
Laird Alexander Grant, buried in December of 1314, husband to his dearest wife Madeline, sire to twins James (Jamie) and John (Jake), Kyla, Connor, Elizabeth, and Maeve.
She loved how he had insisted she not be identified as an adopted daughter.
Her hand went to the fold in her skirt where she carried the small piece of plaid every day.
She’d taken a swatch of her sire’s favorite plaid and saved it as a memory of him.
Before long, she found herself carrying it with her everywhere she went.
She’d sewn folds in every one of her skirts so she would always have that small piece of her father with her.
Her mind often turned to her parents, Maddie and Alex Grant.
The clan had lost her mother many years ago, but it had not yet been a year since the loss of her sire last Yuletide.
She hadn’t accepted his death yet. She’d barely accepted losing her mother, but losing her beloved Da was too much to handle.
Each morning, she woke still expecting to hear his booming voice reach her from somewhere in the castle.
Each morning, the grief hit her anew when he was not there.
The crisp air blew stray hairs away from her face, and she watched the leaves on the ground swirling at her feet, thinking of her mother’s love for the patterns they made.
Memories of her parents filled her heart.
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 she was 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.
But even though she had no memory of those men who lived with Hew, they were in the darkness that often came to her in the middle of the night, reaching out for her from underneath her bed or from under Elizabeth’s bed, or from the darkest corner in their bedchamber.
They had to be what caused her nightmares. What else could it be?
When she was young, she would scream and run as fast as she could to her parents’ bedchamber, standing at the side of the bed with tears blurring her vision until a pair of large hands lifted her and settled her between Alex and Maddie.
The safest place in all of Scotland.
That place smelled of pine and cinnamon and a sweetness that didn’t exist anywhere else.
Over the years, the running had stopped, but the screaming had not.
At nearly four decades, Maeve still screamed at least once a fortnight. Screamed and struggled with an invisible monster, swinging her fists to stop her tormentor.
But her parents were never there to console her anymore. Now Kyla came to awaken her from her nightmare.
She’d never be able to marry anyone or move away from Kyla.
If no one awakened her, she’d surely die of fright.
At the scuff of footsteps through fallen leaves, she glanced over her shoulder.
Maitland was coming her way, and she had to admit that a sweet tingle began in her belly.
Directly at her—to see her! Or so she hoped.
Changing her position to make sure she sat like a lady, she waved to him, and he broke out in a wide smile, returning her wave.
“’Tis a lovely day, my lady. Would ye like to go for a stroll with me?”
Nodding, she stood as soon as he was near, smoothing the fine wrinkles in her skirt, wishing she’d been more careful to keep it tidy, but she could not worry about it now.
Maitland, the man who was stealing her heart, stood in front of her. “I asked Jamie if he minded if we kept company together. He actually pushed me in yer direction.”
She giggled at that. “I doubt he pushed you, but I do believe he wishes I’d find someone.” She blushed at the implication of her statement. “Forgive me. I did not mean to imply…”
He held his hand up. “Dinnae worry. I dinnae take any meaning from yer statement. Tell me, which season do ye like the best? Autumn?”
He took her hand, and they headed down the path that would take them away from the curtain wall.
Not far away, a few mounted guards were headed out on their daily patrol to make sure Grant land was free of reivers and marauders.
And English these days.
“I prefer Yuletide. We used to decorate the hall with greenery, and we loved the feasting and the gifts. Loki comes every year with packages and presents, which the wee ones love. Which season is your favorite?”
“Springtime. New beginnings. Fresh buds on the trees. The promise of warmth coming soon.” He peered at her. “Ye looked quite pensive on the boulder. Something ye’d like to share? Sometimes talking about something helps ye find yer way out of the murkiness.”
“It is quite murky. I do not recall the earliest pieces of my life, and I wish I did. I am forever searching for the cause of my nightmares, but I’ve never unearthed even the smallest clue. Now, I’ve had something similar in the light of day, and it frightens me. If I could recall what happened,
would I be worse off or better? Would the nightmares worsen or improve?”
They heard the sound of approaching horse hooves, so they both looked to see who was approaching the castle.
Maitland stepped closer to Maeve and released her hand so he could set his at the small of her back, a small intimacy she liked.
It did indeed make her feel safer with the approach of unknown riders.
“Henry, what is it?” Maitland called as the rider drew near, another guard coming behind him.
Maeve took it as a good sign that he knew the other man. Or was it?
“My lord, yer mother has taken ill. Yer sire asks for yer return.”
“She is alive? Was she hurt or is it the fever?”
“She is alive, taken to her bed. A fever of unknown origin. Yer father asks for yer return immediately. We are to escort ye home.”
“I will be ready in less than half the hour. Ye may go inside for a quick repast while I gather my belongings.”
Maitland turned to her, and she could see the worry in his eyes. The man had lost his wife, so he knew grief well.
She reached up to pat his arm. “I’m so sorry, Maitland. I pray you find her healing.”
“I apologize for cutting this short, but I must go and go quickly. If ye’d like, ye are welcome to ride with me.”
Maeve started at the thought of joining him on his journey, and her instincts took over. “Oh, nay. Please do not be offended, but nay.”
He frowned, and she nearly relented because she knew she’d caused that expression. She had to make him understand. “Maitland, I’ve never left Grant land.”
The confusion in his gaze was clear. “Ye mentioned this before, but I thought ye meant ye’d never lived away from Grant land.”
She shook her head enough to hide her embarrassment. “Nay. I’ve never left. Once I was brought here, I liked it so much that I swore I’d never leave. I believe I visited Ramsay land when I was verra young, but I have no memory of it. I refused to leave after I turned six summers.”
There went her chance of building a family with Maitland. She could see it in his eyes, but he recovered quickly.
“Well, I look forward to our next meeting.” He kissed her cheek and ushered her back to the curtain wall, their conversation ended.
She understood. What did one say to a recluse?