Page 4 of MacAlister's Hope
He hoped he would find a moment to speak to Fia privately to remind her of when they met, for it was clear she did not remember. He did not ken if he should be bothered that he had been so forgettable to her, or if he should be proud that he was so changed from the lad she’d known that she did not recognize him.
Fia moved across his line of sight with an unstudied grace that seemed to come naturally to her, drawing him in a way that surprised him. He still wanted to thank her, to discover if she was happy in her life, but now that he had seen her again he found, more than anything, he wanted to get to know her.
Annis sauntered by him slowly, blocking his view of Fia. She lowered her chin a fraction, and smiled up at him through her lashes. He shook his head, dismissing her misguided attempt to lure his interest, and sighed as he turned his attention away from both women, checking to make sure all was being taken care of as they set up camp for the night.
Not a moment later, a rumble of interested male voices came from behind him and he knew without looking that Annis was casting her net a bit wider now that he had not responded to her ploy. It took all his self-control not to turn and bark out orders to the other warriors. If they fell for the wench that was their own trouble to get free of.
“I do not ken why we had to take a wee child as a healer.” Tavish’s voice rose above the other voices around Kieron. His gaze snapped to Fia, now warming her hands by the fire, to see if she’d heard. Apparently, she had, for he saw her stiffened momentarily before taking a deep breath and angling away from him so he could not see her expression.
Kieron was about to reprimand Tavish when Annis’s girlish voice stopped him.
“’Tis sure I am she will do her best,” the lass said quietly, though doubt was clear in her voice. Kieron turned then, only to find her sitting on a log next to Tavish, close, but not so close as to raise eyebrows. Brodie stood just behind her, glaring, and clearly poised to intervene should anyone try to move closer to his charge. Annis leaned toward Tavish, her voice still soft, but Kieron could hear her well. “But truly, compared to Elena, she is little better than anyone with a scant knowledge of herbs.”
“Elena should not have—” Tavish started, his voice once more loud in the clearing.
“Haud yer wheesht!” Kieron said, closing the distance between him and his cousin, letting his rare temper get the better of him. “Both of you.” He glared at Annis who quickly rose and moved away from them, Brodie keeping a close watch on her. “Fia is no child, Tav,” Kieron said. “She is a woman grown and Elena believes she can heal the chief, as do I. Do you doubt my counsel?”
Tavish looked down at his fists, then up at Kieron, a tightness around his eyes that spoke of the great effort he put forth not to take his frustration out on his cousin.
“Well?” Kieron asked. “For if you doubt me, then I am done helping you in this endeavor. I shall escort the women back to Kilmartin in the morning.”
“You will not.”
“Then do not say such things about a woman who has left her home and her family to help yours.”
“Why do you care what I say about her?”
Kieron could not answer truthfully without having to explain the role Fia had played in changing the course of his life, and the course of his relationship with Tavish, and that was not something he was ready to do, especially not when the lass in question did not remember him, or what she had done for him. So he went with the next most truthful thing he could say.
“Because we require her good will if you want your da to be healed. Without it she might not—“
“I would never withhold my skills from anyone in need.” Fia’s voice came from just behind him, hard with just the slightest quaver to it. “I said I would help your chief to the very best of my abilities, and I will, no matter what either of you, or Annis, or anyone else believes about me.”
Kieron looked over his shoulder and found Fia standing there, her hands clasped tightly in front of her and not a trace of the wee lass he remembered in her stony expression.
“Your voices carry quite well,” she said. “And just so everyone here kens,” she raised her voice so the entire camp could hear her, “I never, ever, break my word, good will or no.” She speared him, then Tavish, with an icy glare. “I’ll ask that you both remember that.”
Kieron closed his eyes and counted to ten. Now, if she remembered him at all, she would believe he had turned into the same sort of man Tavish tended toward, and not the man she had told him he could be.
Fia pinched her lips together and prayed for patience as she turned her back on the men. She fetched her dinner, cold meat and bannocks Elena had sent with the company, then perched on a broad, lichen-dappled stone that stuck out of the ground near where she had spread her blankets. She tried not to watch as Kieron and his abrasive companion, Tavish, settled across the clearing with their meals, but they sat directly in her line of sight…as if that had anything to do with her inability to keep her eyes off him.
Off Kieron.
Even if she was angry with him.
Though if she was honest, her anger was more with herself than him. She hadn’t been able to stop watching him all afternoon as they traveled. He sat his horse as if he rode all the time, sitting straight yet easy in the saddle. Kieron was braw, with dark, wavy hair pulled loosely back with a leather thong from his angular face, and eyes the bright green of the first wee leaves of spring. He was long, and leaner than most warriors, more whip-like in his build than thickly muscled, and there was a quiet steadiness to him that made his companion seem even more brash and difficult than he probably was. She had invented a caring, charming man to go with what she had seen, and when Keiron had come to her defense, his appeal had risen, for though she had long since learned to ignore the fact that she would never be the healer Elena was, as if she should aspire to anything of the sort, it still irritated when people doubted her. And he had not doubted her, not for a single moment, as if he knew her, trusted her, even before they met…until he had questioned her word with his reply to Tavish, that they “needed her good will.”
The person she had made herself believe him to be, based on nothing more than her wishes that he was so, shattered with his words. Her daydream was ruined, and it was no one’s fault but her own. The man was who he was, not who she had thought him to be.
She took a bite of the cold venison, then nibbled on a bannock, as she considered the odd feeling she’d had since she first laid eyes on Kieron. She was certain that she had met him before, though she doubted it at the same time, for she was positive she would not forget such a man. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing over where she had left him and Tavish, though she tried not to be obvious about it.
As if drawn by her thoughts, his eyes met hers and held her captive, a question in them that she couldn’t understand. He smiled, a soft smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He leaned toward Tavish and said something, then rose and made his way across the clearing to her.
“Will you accept my apology?” he asked as he drew near. “I will never doubt your word, ’tis just that I did not ken how to tell Tavish why I trust you when you do not remember why yourself. May I sit with you?”
Fia stared up at him, taking the measure of the man who stood waiting patiently for her decision. He sounded sincere in his apology and in his explanation—or was it simply that she wanted to believe him so she need not be angry with him? Perhaps it was both? Her curiosity got the better of her, though she tried to set aside who she had thought he was so she could see the man he truly was.
She motioned for him to join her.
