He stared at her for a time, before taking in a deep breath to steady his nerves. Three b.l.o.o.d.y fathers? Three b.l.o.o.d.y husbands? How could she not have shared that bit of information with him? Distrust and anger began to grow deep in his belly. "Aye, I think ye need to explain," he told her even though he seriously doubted anything she was about to say would make a bit of sense.

Moirra cleared her throat as she laced up the front of her dress. "Mariote, Esa, and Muriale all have the same da. I was barely five and ten when we married. He was a good man, Alysander. He loved this land." Her voice caught then. She swallowed hard before going on. "He died from illness when Muriale was but a week old."

There was no hiding the fact that she had loved the father of three of her daughters, for the pain was quite evidenced in her damp eyes.

"I met me second husband a few years later. He was a warrior. A complete opposite of me first husband and I think that was why I was attracted to him. We were married a short time, no more than three months, before he left to go fight some war somewhere. He never met his daughter, Orabilis."

Guilt began to plague his heart as he listened to her recount the men she had loved and lost. She grew silent, he a.s.sumed, recounting fond memories of the two men she had loved and lost. Deafening silence filled the loft for a time before his curiosity over the third made him ask the question. "And yer third?"

She turned pale then and looked as though she wanted to retch. He watched as her nostrils flared and she took deep breaths. "I do no' like to speak of him."

It took no great leaps in deduction for Alysander to conclude that the third husband was the cause of all Mariote's nightmares and her profound need to protect her family. "He be why Mariote is so distrusting of men." 'Twas more a statement than a question.

Tears fell down Moirra's cheeks. "Aye."

Anger and disgust blended together in the pit of his stomach. He ground his teeth together as he counted to ten. "He hurt Mariote."

Moirra could not look at him.

"Where is he?" Alysander was fully prepared to search the world over, find the wh.o.r.eson who had hurt Mariote, and kill him.

"Gone," Moirra said, wiping tears from her cheeks. "We were no' married. 'Twas a handfastin' that did not last but a few months."

As much as he wanted to question her further, to find out what had happened, he could not do that just yet. There was too much hurt in her eyes and he could not bear to cause her more. In time, he hoped, she would feel comfortable sharing more with him. For now, he would offer comfort the only way he knew how. He pulled her into his chest, smoothing down her hair with his palm. "I swear if I ever see this man, I'll kill him fer what he's done to Mariote and the rest of ye. I swear, Moirra, I'll never bring harm to any of ye."

Moirra sniffed and gave a nod. "I ken ye wouldna do anythin' intentional, Alysander. But ye are leavin' after the harvest. I ken me daughters have takin' a strong likin' to ye. I fear if they grow too close to ye, they will be pained to see ye leave."

A question hung on the tip of his tongue, but he daren't ask it. And how will ye feel, Moirra, when I leave?

CHAPTER 12.

'Twas another beautiful summer morn. Alysander could not remember ever being as happy as he was now, sitting around the old, worn table inside Moirra's cottage. For the first time in many years, he actually felt like he belonged.

During the day, he and Moirra went about their ch.o.r.es as if nothing had changed between them. But as soon as the girls were abed and fast asleep, Moirra would make her way into the barn and into Alysander's arms. A week had pa.s.sed since they'd first experienced the joy that could be found with one another. The more time he spent loving this woman, the more he wanted. 'Twas all new territory for him, this domesticated life. He was enjoying nearly every moment of it. Though daily life was far from boring, he did find a measure of peacefulness that he hadn't expected.

They were breaking their fast over eggs and sausage. The three younger girls were discussing the baby rabbits they had discovered behind the cottage the day before. Mariote, however, sat quietly at the table and picked at her food. Alysander thought she looked tired and pale.

"Are ye well, Mariote?" he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

The la.s.s' face burned crimson at his inquiry. She cleared her throat, unable to look him in the eye. "I am."

Alysander did not for a moment believe her. "Ye look tired," he said. "And a wee pale. Did ye no' sleep well?" Mayhap the nightmares had returned, but not with the same ferocity.

"I said I be fine," she ground out before shoving away from the table and returning to the loft.

Moirra came to stand beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Alysander gave her a befuddled look. "She'll be fine in a day or two," she said.

"'Tis her courses," Orabilis said with a mouthful of porridge.

"Orabilis!" Moirra exclaims. "Hush!"

Alysander's face burned when the realization set in.

"What?" Orabilis asked, not quite understanding what the problem was.

"Ye do no' discuss things such as that with men," Esa tried to explain.

"Why no'?" the little girl asked.

"Because it isn't proper," Muriale whispered. "Now hush!"

Alysander had grown up surrounded mostly by men but he was not completely ignorant when it came to the opposite s.e.x. Unless, of course, it involved their tender feelings. Nay, then he was often left feeling like a complete idiot. He had no idea what he should or shouldn't say at the moment. Realizing that nearly anything he could say on the matter would probably come out wrong, he decided to change the subject entirely.

"I need to gather firewood this day," he told no one in particular. "Would anyone like to help me?"

Muriale, Esa, and Orabilis looked happy that he had thought to invite them.

"Should we take our sgian dubhs," Orabilis asked. "In case George and Harry try to take us?"

Moirra turned away from the fire she was tending and looked at Alysander. A flicker of fear flashed behind her eyes as she slowly stood up.

"I doubt they'll try anything so foolish again, Moirra," Alysander offered.

Moirra was not as confident. Though the woods were not that far from their cottage, it was still too far away for her to feel completely comfortable, especially after what had happened to Mariote the last time.

Moirra pondered going with them, but Mariote was not feeling well, and she did not want to leave her alone. If she sent John alone, he would have to make several trips. Whilst she felt quite confident that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, it didn't seem fair that he should have to gather all the wood alone and make several trips in order to replenish their supplies.

"Verra well," she finally said. "But please, be careful."

Alysander stood and offered her a warm smile. "I'll no' let anything happen to them, Moirra. Ye have me word."

Without a doubt, she knew he meant what he said.

Alysander and the three youngest girls set off for the woods. Muriale and Orabilis walked ahead and chattered on about one thing or another, while Esa remained just as quiet as she usually was. He had discovered that she was a thoughtful child who rarely said anything without thinking on it first. Quite the opposite of her mother and sisters.

They had not gotten far when Alysander heard horses approaching. Instinctively, he reached for his broadsword and called Orabilis and Muriale to come stand behind he and Esa, off to the side of the road.

Moments later, four riders appeared. Alysander instantly recognized the man leading the charge as Thomas McGregor. Alysander neither liked nor trusted the arrogant man. Though he seriously doubted Thomas would intentionally try to harm Moirra's daughters, he wasn't about to take any chances.

"Girls," Alysander whispered. "Be prepared to run if I tell ye to."

"Why?" Orabilis asked, looking quite confused. "'Tis only Thomas and his brothers."

Muriale and Esa agreed with nods of their heads. "Thomas isna so nice," Muriale said. "His brothers are much kinder."

There was no time for him to explain before the men came to a stop in front of them. There was a strong resemblance between the four men. All had the same light coloring; all were broad shouldered; and all appeared to be tall. Whether their personalities were as similar as their looks, Alysander could not yet be certain.

His question was answered when Thomas glared down at him whilst his three brothers all smiled fondly at the girls.

"What can I help ye with this day?" Alysander asked, directing his question to Thomas.

"I've come to give ye all warnin'," Thomas said from atop his mount. "There be wolves about. They attacked last night. We lost five sheep to them."

Alysander immediately recalled the conversation he had had with Orabilis and Mariote a few weeks ago. Wulver.

"Are ye certain 'twas wolves?" Muriale asked.

Thomas cast her a heated look that said he thought her question foolish. One of his brothers answered Muriale's question politely. "Aye, we are young Muriale. We found tracks. They appear to head toward your lands."

"We followed the tracks to the stream and out again and into the woods behind us," another of the brothers said. "We thought mayhap we should warn ye."

"I thank ye fer that," Alysander said, giving the man a nod.

"I be James McGregor," he said. "That be our brother William." He gave a nod to the man to his right. "And behind me is our brother Phillip."

Alysander gave a nod to each man as he was introduced.

"And I believe ye've already met Thomas," James said. His smile held a hint of mischievousness to it, as if he knew something that Alysander didn't.

"'Tis a pleasure to meet ye all. And we thank ye fer the warnin'. I'll be sure to let me wife know." Alysander directed his statement to Thomas.

Thomas huffed and shook his head. "I'd recommend ye stay out of the woods fer a time, John. We'll be huntin' the wolves and I would hate to mistake ye fer one." He did not bother to wait for a reply. Yanking the reins of his horse, he sped away, leaving his brothers behind.

James shook his head as if he were ashamed of his brother's behavior. "Pay him no heed, John, fer he's a fool if ever there was one."

"Aye," Phillip said. "He's just jealous that you have Moirra."

Alysander eyed the young man speculatively. "And he wants her."

"Aye, he does." James told him.

Alysander ground his jaw together. Moirra had said Thomas wanted her land more than he wanted her. Did Thomas' brothers know something that Moirra didn't? 'Twas quite possible. He knew there were secrets he and his own brothers had shared that not another living soul was aware of.

William finally spoke up. "I think this is a conversation that should be had over pints instead of little ears." He nodded toward the three girls.

Apparently, his brothers agreed. "We'll keep ye informed about the wolves, John." James said as he began to pull away.

"I'll do the same. If we see anythin' we'll be sure to let ye know."

"Hurry up now, and gather yer wood," Phillip said. "We are heading home to eat before we set out again. But who knows what Thomas is liable to do."

Alysander watched as the three riders left. Phillip's word of warning hung in the air along with the dust the horses had kicked up.

"I think we best hurry," Muriale said as she tugged on Alysander's arm.

"Are ye worried over Thomas?" Alysander asked.

Muriale giggled slightly. "Nay. I be more worried over wolves than Thomas McGregor."

I fear Thomas McGregor more than the wolves, Alysander thought. He decided he didn't want to tempt fate or the temperaments of either.

As the days went by, Alysander began to feel very much a tormented man.

During the daylight hours, he was John to Moirra and her daughters. With each slow day that pa.s.sed, he grew to hate the name. The more he heard it, the more it made his skin itch and his stomach tighten. There were moments when it was all he could do not to shout at the top of his lungs I be Alysander McCullum!

But at night, after the children were safely tucked into their beds, he was Alysander. Her Alysander.

Together, he and Moirra found much pleasure in each other bodies. Delightful, nearly sinful pleasure. But nothing, no amount of loving, no amount of touching, no bone-melting climax that he found in her arms, could equal the pleasure he took each time she said his name. Alysander.

In the beginning, he had thought it made perfectly good sense to not disclose the fullness of their relationship with her daughters. He'd be gone after harvest time, never to see any of them again. Moirra worried that his leaving would break her daughters' hearts if they were to grow too close to him. If he remained John Pilori, the strange man who was here only to help with the farm and animals, the break would be less severe.

Now? Now he was awash in uncertainty.

Fear soon became his constant companion. He was fearful that if Moirra learned who he truly was - aside from his real name - that she would no longer hold him in any kind regard. The last thing he wanted was for her to look at him with shame and regret. If she learned that he was the reason his brother was dead he seriously doubted she would still look upon him fondly.

'Twas a constant back and forth with his guilt and fear. One moment, he wanted to purge himself, share with her every deep dark secret that he had, to tell her that he had once been nothing more than a drunkard who had let down his entire family and clan. Were it not for him, his brother would still be alive and his father ... Nay ... how his father felt about him would never change.

Mayhap his father was right; he was nothing but a coward.

But he had changed, hadn't he? He'd not been drunk in months. He had acted as father and protector to four young girls and husband to beautiful Moirra. Didn't those things alone prove that he was worthy? Were those things enough to wash away his past sins and transgressions? Would he ever be able to make up for all he'd done wrong his whole life up to this point? 'Twas doubtful.

Nay, he could not share with her either his past or what he was beginning to suspect was in his heart.

'Twas not supposed to have happened like this, Moirra thought to herself. Ye were no' supposed to grow fond of the man!

'Twas bread baking day and Moirra stood in her kitchen kneading dough, her mind not completely focused on the task at hand. Her mind was on Alysander, as it was so often these past weeks.

As much as she hated to admit it, she was growing fonder of Alysander McCullum with each day that pa.s.sed. When she had made the decision to pay the bailie that day, she was certain she would be fully capable of saying goodbye after the harvest. Now? Now her heart ached at the thought of him leaving.

He was fulfilling all the promises he made to her the day they spoke the handfast vows and she wasn't certain if she was angry or glad. There were moments when she wished he behaved more the rake and ne'er-do-well he had said he was the day she met him, instead of the kind, honorable man she knew him to be. Twould be so much easier to say goodbye to the man if he were an a.s.s.

But he was not. Generous, kind, honorable, and even-tempered. It did not help matters any that his loving skills were beyond anything she could ever have imagined. Tender he was, whilst being pa.s.sionate. Each night they spent together, his foremost goal was to make certain that Moirra found her own pleasure before he found his. 'Twas an entirely new experience for her and 'twas one she did not want to give up.

'Twas more than just their loving that she knew she'd miss. She'd miss his laugh, his smile, the way he played the lute. She would miss the way he made all of them feel at ease and safe in his presence. She would miss everything about him.

Oh, why could he not be an a.s.s? Why could he not have some disgusting trait that she could not abide? Something, anything that she could dislike about him so that when it came time for him to leave, she would be glad for it?

Thinking about the day he would leave made her chest squeeze against her heart. Tears welled, and no matter how valiantly she tried to fight them back, they fell.

She had pretended that she was more worried over how her daughters would feel and react when Alysander left. The girls would miss him, that she knew. They'd grown accustomed to him and felt safe having him here. Mariote had not had a nightmare in weeks and had softened to the man.

But for Moirra, there would be a deep, gaping hole in her chest where her heart once resided.