Page 41 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
“’Tis what ye deserve, Davina.”
She smiled, melting his heart.
“’Tis nay what I was told when I was at the Priory.”
“I daresay the nuns are nae fer pampering or fer compliments.”
She laughed softly. “Ye’re right. But fer me there seemed always tae be special condemnation. Dame Maria never wasted an opportunity tae describe me as beyond hope.”
He shook his head, not wishing to release her hand as she withdrew it and placed it on her lap.
“’Tis nay been me observation of ye. I ken yer good heart and yer longing tae be of service tae others. Yer work in the infirmary is greatly valued.”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I wish I could believe ye. Yet Dame Maria assured me I could never appease God. That I was born with a stain that would always condemn me in the sight of good people.”
He drew in a sharp breath. He was aware of those words. He’d once heard a priest hurl them at a lad who had been born out of wedlock. There was a belief he didn’t share, that those born on the wrong side of the cloth were forever stained by their parents’ sin. Was this part of the mystery surrounding Davina? Was she born illegitimate?
This made him all the more impatient to hear what news the tinker might bring from Iona.
He spoke gently. “Dinnae mind those foolish words. ‘Tis clear the Dame Maria didnae ken ye at all. Whatever our parents dae, nay matter how wicked they may be, their actions dinnae stain us. Our souls are born pure.”
She dabbed her eyes with a finger, as if to wipe away a tear. “Me heart and soul wish naething more than tae believe yer words, me laird.”
“Ah lass. Ye cannae ken how I have struggled with that concept. Me faither was not a good man. He was cruel. Fer many years I feared that I might become like him.”
She pshawed and sniffed away the tears. “And ye grew tae be a good, fair and kind man, Everard MacNeil.” She laid her hand on his sleeve. “And I can testify before God tae the truth of that. Ye’ve saved me many times over. And I think only well of ye.”
Her words were like one of the salves in the infirmary, if there were such things as salves and balms for the soul. Warmth spread through him, and he took her hand again and kissed it, only wishing he could draw her into his embrace and place a kiss on her plush, pink, lips.
Her hand still rested on his sleeve and he touched it lightly, spreading his fingers to encircle it, and give it a brief squeeze.
She grinned at him as their eyes met and he was washed with the sense that she desired that kiss every bit as much as he did.
An inner voice whispered to him that he would do whatever was required for her to remain at Kiessimul where he could keep her safe. And close.
At the tap on the door, they drew apart and got to their feet. The spell that had been spinning around them was broken. It was Mildred, with Feather in her little cage.
“The maids woke her as they went tae tidy the bedchamber and empty the tub.” She handed over the cage to Davina and placed a small package on the table. “Ailis made up some tasty scraps fer her.”
“That is so kind.”
The maids bustled in, bundling up the empty platters to take back to the kitchen.
“’Tis time I was back in the infirmary.” Davina looked down at the velvet robe she had on and gave a soft laugh. “Methinks I had best return tae me cottage and clad meself in something more suitable fer gardening.”
He smiled, wishing he could find an excuse to keep her with him for a little longer.
Again. Foolishness.
Before leaving the room, she turned, offering a curtsy. “I thank ye again, me laird, fer all yer kindness.”
“’Tis naught, lass. Ye are me guest and yer wellbeing is me concern.”
When the door closed behind her, leaving only a drift of rose fragrance in the air, the room seemed somehow drab and dim, as if the candlelight had been snuffed out.
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My dear reader,
