Page 15 of Forgotten Secrets (Secrets of the Heart 4)

Chapter 5

Not able to sleep, Morag snuck to the stable just before dawn, feeling the need to go to the secret garden by herself to check on Mazelina. Still frightened, she hesitated to leave without an escort, but it was something she had to do. She promised the old woman she’d keep their secret, but with Branton tagging along, it was never going to happen.

Nervously, she gripped the hilt of the dagger hanging on her belt, her only means of protection. She had contemplated taking a bow and arrows or perhaps a sword with her, but decided against it. She didn’t know how to use either. Besides, they would only slow her down if she were being chased and had to flee quickly.

Being quiet so as not to wake the stable boy, she saddled her horse and silently rode out of the stable. Since the drawbridge was up and the gate still closed from last night for protection, she had to sneak out the postern gate the way she and her sister and cousins used to do whenever they went to the garden in secret.

It wasn’t easy to sneak past all the tents camped out front. But since the postern gate was at the back of the castle, she was sure she remained unnoticed. As she rode away, making her way to the secret garden, her hood fell down and her unbound hair blew behind her in the breeze.

* * *

Having hadthe worst night’s sleep of his life, Bedivere made his way to the window and threw open the shutter for a breath of fresh air. Mayhap, this would help to clear his muddled mind.

Looking out from his window, he could see the back of the castle and the lands around it in the moonlight. Dawn was almost here and faint rays of sun lit up the horizon in a soft, orange hue. He took a breath and released it slowly, trying to center himself and push aside his emotions. He’d learned not to let his work bother him, but this last job was one that unsettled him deeply.

How the hell was he going to kill off the bastard triplets? It was a fool’s mission and one that was sure to take his life trying. Plus, it didn’t sit right with him having to kill off Morag’s father and uncles. He felt something for the girl, although he wasn’t sure what. This kill seemed too close to home.

Looking out at the horizon, he couldn’t stop thinking about Morag and that kiss. How bold and daring was she to come to his room at night to prove his assumption of her was wrong. He saw sadness and loneliness within her eyes and recognized it as something that often haunted him as well. Aye, she was a lot like him, and that only made him want to protect her.

“Damn,” he said, running a hand through his tangled hair in thought. All he wanted to do was to protect the girl. But what she needed was to be protected from men like him.

He was about to close the shutter when he spotted a rider leaving the castle at a fast pace down the road. Long, blond hair blew in the breeze as the person headed for the woods. “Morag,” he said, standing up straight, wondering where she was going unescorted and so early in the morning.

“What is it, Brother?” asked Percival from the bed.

“It’s nothing,” he said, closing the shutter and trying to block out the girl from his thoughts. Part of him wanted to follow Morag, but yet another part of him wanted to forget all about her at the same time. Now that he had his orders, he didn’t want to think about Morag in a romantic way. Killing the bastard triplets was a secret he’d never be able to tell her, and neither would he ever want her to know about the heinous deed. If Morag ever did find out, she would hate him for eternity, and he couldn’t blame her. His stomach twisted and his head swarmed in confusion. Bedivere already hated himself for what he was about to do. Still, he had no other choice. If he were going to save the last of his family, his mother, from the horrible dungeon, he would have to follow his orders and push aside any feelings he had for the girl.

* * *

Morag enteredthe secret garden just as the sun began to rise. With the reins of her horse in one hand and her dagger clutched in the other, she cautiously made her way toward Imanie’s cottage.

“Mazelina?” she called out in a shaky voice. “Mazelina, I am here. It’s me, Morag. I have returned to be mentored by ye just as we’ve agreed.”

She tied up the horse and made her way into the cottage. Not seeing the woman anywhere, her heart sank and she turned to leave. As she made her way down the stairs, she saw something move in the stable. Gripping the hilt of her dagger, she picked up a rock in her other hand and made her way over to investigate.

When she entered the stable, she saw Mazelina at the opposite side of the stall.

“Mazelina! Thank God, I’ve found ye.” She ran over to give the old woman a hug, but was stopped by her raised hand.

“There is no need for that,” said Mazelina. “I do not hug anyone.” Once again, there was no emotion in her voice.

“I’m sorry,” said Morag, dropping the rock at her feet and pushing the dagger into the sheath at her waist. “When I didna see ye here yesterday and Branton said he saw a stranger in the garden, I was afeared that somethin’ happened to ye.”

“Fear is what holds us back from accomplishing great feats,” said the woman, nodding to a wooden bench inside the stable. “Sit, Morag. It is time for your first lesson.”

“Oh, guid,” she said excitedly, plopping down on the bench. It was an old, rotten bench and it broke under her weight. Morag landed on the ground in the dirty, stale straw. “Help me up,” she said, reaching out a hand, but Mazelina did nothing.

“If you can’t even help yourself off the ground, how do you expect to help others?”

“What do ye mean?” Morag got to her feet and brushed the dirt and straw off her skirt.

“You have a lot of fears, Morag. That is something your sister and cousins did not have.”

“Nay, I dinna fear anythin’.”

“Be honest with yourself.” The woman gave her a knowing look. “Remember, I can see into your mind.”

“I guess there’s no use in hidin’ it then. Aye, I do fear some things.”

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