The Shadow 0f Her Smile (Highlander Heroes Book 3) Read online

  She’d spent some time with Anice in the chapel, offering what surely must be inept or unheard prayers. While she and Anice sat silently with their devotions, Torren and Fibh, with the help of Stonehaven’s carpenter, worked to repair the door to the chapel, which had somehow been busted away from the metal hinges. Anice had looked pointedly at Torren when Ada had asked how the door had been broken, but only answered, “Do not ask.”

  Ada had debated telling Anice about her late night conversation with Jamie MacKenna, but she did not. Stonehaven had just seen its own misfortune so that her trials seemed to pale presently.

  By late afternoon, Ada was tired. She’d not been able to sleep after meeting the MacKenna on the beach. This had come as no surprise; seemed to be, she thought, that her lot in life would frequently see her wrestling with some manner of guilt.

  She’d treated the MacKenna unfairly. While she didn’t know the entire circumstance, he had obviously and indeed returned to Dornoch as promised.

  Five days later.

  She’d left—escaped with Margaret’s help—on the morning of the fifth day.

  What she had done to him last night, the fury she’d unleashed on him, now sat within her in the form of overwhelming embarrassment and remorse. The words she’d not been able to force out last night needed to be said today.

  When supper came, Ada straightened her shoulders and entered the hall, knowing she must seek some of his time, as he had hers—and hope he allowed this, even if begrudgingly—and she must make this right. She thought it odd to find Anice at the lower table, with Kinnon and Fibh and only a few others.

  She smiled at Anice, even as a question lit her eyes. Just as Ada sat down on the end of the bench, Anice explained, “Gregor and Torren and a few others are seeing off Jamie and...others. They’re down at the beach.”

  “He’s leaving? Now?”

  Anice’s brows lowered at the disappointment she heard in Ada’s voice.

  “Yes.”

  Ada stood. “I have to tell him—on the beach, you say?” She did not wait for a confirmation but lifted the skirts of her warm woolen gown and dashed from the hall, sorry that she could not take the time to explain to Anice, who was calling after her.

  She must tell him she was sorry.

  The gate was closed today, even though it normally was not while the sun shone. But Arik had just showed Ada the door within, and without bothering any of the sentries on the wall, Ada let herself out of the castle yard and raced down the hill and around to the right.

  She reached the woefully vacant beach and felt her shoulders slump. He was gone. Oh, this was awful. She’d been an absolute wretch to him—and the man had stood there and allowed her to beat and berate him, knowing full well that she had no cause at all to do so. And now she couldn’t even tell him she was sorry.

  She was so damn sorry.

  Tears blinded her as a constricting heat narrowed her throat. Thumping her hands onto her hips, she tilted back her head, trying to calm herself. A noise drew her attention to Left Beach, over the large boulders of the ancient cairn. Ada realized it was voices and wondered if she hadn’t missed him at all.

  Relief surged through her and she scrambled up and over the rocks, having to use her hands to steady herself as she climbed. At the top of the cairn, she saw that at least a dozen people were on this beach. She spied Jamie MacKenna straightaway, even as he had his back to her, and now descended. Gregor Kincaid, speaking to the MacKenna, inclined his head when he noticed her.

  She couldn’t see his expression when he turned to find her, as she’d stumbled and needed to put her eyes back on the rocks. She gained the beach, planting her feet in the sand as Jamie MacKenna strode toward her. She met him, halfway between the cairn and the men who seemed to have stopped what they were doing. Ada ignored them and drew a fortifying breath. The wind was harsh and blew so much of her hair across her face. She gathered a thick tail of it in her hand, holding it near her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. She thought his blue eyes rather dazzling in the light of day, now that she truly looked at them, didn’t go out of her way to avoid them. But she realized he was frowning at her now. She had to raise her voice, almost holler, to be heard over the wind and the waves. “I am sorry for having misjudged you, and for the way I lashed out at you.”

  She didn’t know why she cried now. Her emotions, since Jamie MacKenna had come to Stonehaven, seem to overwhelm and astonish her quite often. She bit her lip and stared at him.

  “Like as no, I deserved it.” There was no need for him to raise his voice, it being naturally deep and projected from his diaphragm. “If no for what I failed to do for you, then surely for some other misstep.”

  “You didn’t fail!” She cried with larger misery, for what she’d assumed of him, for the names she’d called him. “I behaved shamefully. I cannot take it all back—I’m sorry for that. But could you just imagine I’m only a wretched person and not give it any thought? I—I don’t know how to...not be angry.”

  He shook his head, breathing, it seemed, through his nostrils, waging some inner battle.

  “Oh, please,” she begged, while tears dribbled down her scarred cheeks. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save him. Or Malys or Ned. Why do I get to be here, and they do not?”

  They’d stood this close yesterday, while she’d attacked him. She’d had no true idea what his expression had been last night, but right now, she was all but bitten by the harshness about him. He struggled mightily with some emotion and she wondered if he only tried to talk himself out of striking her, as retribution.

  Ada closed her eyes. ‘Twas no more than she deserved. Dear God, the things she said to him!

  He did not strike her. She felt his arms wrap around her and press her head against his chest. And now she really sobbed, for this forgiveness, and from this man, her only link to Will.

  He was so large and warm, she nearly melted at the instant peacefulness that settled over her. She did not open her eyes, but inhaled deeply the scent of this man, leather and cloves, and discovered that her fingers clung to his breastplate. Suddenly, she felt an acute sense of loss that Jamie MacKenna was leaving, that her tenuous connection to Will would leave as well. She gave no thought to why she so desperately wanted to hold on to Will’s memory.

  Just as it registered with her that his hand rubbed lightly in circles on her back, sounds that originated not from her or Jamie MacKenna penetrated her dismay. Reining in her tears, sniffling loudly, she lifted her head and heard Anice calling her name.

  “God damn it, Anice!” This, roared from the Kincaid, effectively broke through Ada’s numbness. “I’m going to lock you up myself, I swear to God.” The Kincaid rushed over to the cairn, where came Anice, lumbering over the tall rocks with Kinnon chasing after her, exasperation plainly written on his face.

  Jamie MacKenna’s arms fell away from Ada as she turned to face her friend.

  “Ada!” Anice called, her hand now in Gregor’s, her husband’s face stiff with displeasure at what he deemed his wife’s recklessness. She stood before Ada, her confusion clearly visible as she stared between Ada and the MacKenna behind her now.

  Ada sighed, completely drained of tears. “I was saying farewell.”

  Anice’s gaze took in all the other people down here at the beach, behind them, the ones Ada had not considered since she’d approached Jamie. “Yes, well, let us get you back to the keep.”

  She reached for Ada’s hand, but Ada turned away, facing Jamie MacKenna one more time. She looked directly into his blue-as-the-sea eyes and tried so hard to give him a smile, one of apology and regret and indeed, farewell. She had a sense that a headache she’d struggled with for years was now gone, as if that constant tightness in her chest was loosened. She took in a deep and long breath of salty air and said to him on a slow exhale, “Farewell, sir. I wish you Godspeed.”

  He said nothing and Ada was infused again with the notion that he wrestled still with something inside. His gaze b
urned into her, his strong features seeming to be made of stone just now.

  “Come along, Ada,” Anice prodded still, her hand at Ada’s elbow.

  “She comes with me,” Jamie MacKenna said, his tone firm, while his gaze remained inscrutable and fixed on Ada.

  Ada blinked. The words did not immediately have meaning to her.

  “Jamie—” Anice’s voice hinted at a protest.

  “She goes where I go,” Jamie MacKenna said.

  This, now, registered. Ada frowned and looked up at him. His eyes were neither kind nor soft. A muscle ticked in his cheek. In the name of all that was holy, what had possessed him to make such a statement?

  And then she saw it—or supposed she did. Beneath the tightened jaw and behind the impenetrable gaze, Ada was very sure there lived much sorrow. Just as she struggled to comprehend this complexity, he blinked, seeming to shutter all emotions, his gaze now flat.

  She goes where I go.

  “Why?” She asked of him.

  It was a long time before he responded. “I’ve a debt to repay.”

  Duty. Or, pity. Sadly, she shook her head. He owed her nothing.

  Chapter Eight

  Jamie stared down at her. Something screamed inside him, what have you done? but he could not retract the words. He had a responsibility to her.

  This was the right thing to do.

  She met his gaze steadily, every scarred and tightened feature of her face screaming with resolve. “You have no debt to me. I—I do not need your charity.”

  “’Tis no charity,” he claimed. “I failed you once. I should no do so again.”

  Brilliant hazel eyes regarded him with profound wariness. “Where do you go?”

  He was fairly surprised she entertained the idea even so much to ask this. He was more amazed that something inside him was adamant now that he not go without her.

  “About, for now, on some business,” he answered vaguely. “Eventually, to Aviemore, my home.”

  “Jamie,” Anice spoke up again. She’d moved, stood now beside him and Ada. “She cannot go where you are going.”

  He felt his jaw tighten at Anice’s interference, well-intentioned though he supposed it was. Ada’s lips parted. Anice took her hand, intent on leading her away.

  But Ada nodded, even while her expression showed a mix of wonder and uncertainty. He could well see that she tried very hard to maintain a silent courage, even as her fidgeting hands, clenching and unclenching in the folds of her skirt, belied her steady gaze.

  “She’ll be in good hands, Lady Anice,” said a deep voice behind them.

  Bluidy Christ. Aside from Anice and Gregor, before him, Jamie had all but forgotten about the undoubtedly captivated audience behind him. He blew out a frustrated breath and turned to face the other men who’d come for him, those with whom he was meant to leave.

  He met the untroubled blue eyes of William Wallace, hoping the grimace he gave correctly conveyed his apology. William only nodded, his gaze seeming to show approval for the odd encounter and consequence as he stepped forward to tower over Ada.

  “I have met some remarkable lasses in these highlands,” he said, resting his gaze momentarily on Anice, “and yet I find I am still somehow astonished that there seems to be rather a surfeit of courageous ladies in Scotland.” He lifted her hand and introduced himself. “I am William Wallace, lass, and I am pleased to assure you that your presence would be most welcome.”

  Jamie himself might have laughed at her expression just then, save that this circumstance was still fairly grave, to his own thinking. Ada’s jaw gaped but a moment before she collected herself and dropped into a deep curtsy. Her tongue-tied reverence did afford a spark of pride to swell within Jamie and he introduced her to William when she rose before him.

  “Ada Moncriefe,” Wallace repeated. He gave her a thoughtful perusal, which included briefly eyeing the hand he held and staring at length at her neck and cheeks while his jaw worked side to side. “I am always disturbed to disagreeableness by the mishandling of the bold and true daughters of Scotland. As ever, I am proud to call Jamie MacKenna a true and noble companion, and then more so when he seeks to right these wrongs.”

  Jamie was quickly getting used to the fact that Ada wore every emotion on her face, at all times. However, he could not at present discern if her beguiled expression also showed a satisfaction. Whatever the case, she said nothing, seemed only to consider the words, biting her lip as her gaze slid away from Wallace and found his.

  “Come along then, Ada Moncriefe,” William Wallace said, making the decision for her, moving away as if the matter were settled. “You will be in good hands with the MacKenna, I vow.”

  “I need to collect Will.”

  “Her hound,” Jamie explained to Wallace. And to Ada, “You have bits and pieces to collect as well?”

  She turned those hazel eyes onto him, showing something of an awkwardness. “I-I haven’t any possessions.”

  “But the gowns—you’re welcome to take them,” Anice insisted. “And you’ll need your cloak.” Anice said to Jamie, “We won’t be long.”

  She pulled Ada away, toward the cairn, their heads pressed together. Jamie could not hear their words to know if Anice spoke for or against his plan and Ada’s seeming agreement.

  Jamie shook Gregor’s hand. “See you again in a few months’ time.”

  “Aye,” said Gregor. He inclined his head toward Wallace. “You ken to bring him back by sea if needs be.” With Jamie’s nod, Gregor pivoted and caught up with his wife.

  Wallace said, in his low and deep voice, “She’s the lass from Dornoch, I presume.”

  “Aye.”

  “Then it is as it should be, I imagine.” And he stepped away, taking the reins of the horse Gregor’s man held ready for him. “The war grows old, my friend, and I weary of it,” he said as he gained the saddle. “Let us end it, and soon, and rid ourselves of all these shameful byproducts.”

  Jamie attended the loading of his saddlebags onto his steed, which Ada had interrupted with her coming. He made a point to breathe evenly, wondering that what he felt right now seemed to be relief and not unease.

  Not more than ten minutes had passed when the sound of Will’s barking preceded his bounding over the rocks. The huge beast crested the rocks, standing still but a moment, spying the party below, before he nimbly made his descent, racing toward Kinnon and begging his attention.

  “’Tis no hound, but a wolf,” said Wallace. And then he mused, “A wolf named Will.”

  Ada appeared then, carrying only a small rope-tied bundle. Jamie jogged over to the cairn and offered his hand. She spared him only a glance, her expression now fairly reserved, as she put her hand in his.

  She bade fare thee well to Torren with a long embrace, and to Kinnon with a bittersweet smile and hug. Jamie watched the lad scrunch up his face, as if he battled greater emotion than shown.

  When she faced him again, and while the party waited still, she looked only at Jamie, displaying her first trace of true doubt. He allowed no time for this to expand but lifted her into the saddle and swung up behind her. With a nod to Torren and Kinnon, Jamie turned the horse to follow Wallace and the others and breathed in the scent of lavender and honey that surrounded her.

  ADA BENT TO ARRANGE the skirts of her gown to cover her exposed ankles, but the horse moving rather jerked her back against him. She let out a little ‘oomph’ just as his arm slid around her middle. His touch surprised her, but she found herself clinging to the arm, having not expected to be moving so fast so quickly.

  With a knot in her belly, she contemplated all that had happened this afternoon, and in such a small amount of time. From the second she had come to find Jamie MacKenna, only to ask for forgiveness, until this moment now, riding away from Stonehaven with him, she believed not more than thirty minutes had elapsed.

  What have I done? Came to mind, and more than once.

  “It will be all right,” Anice had said to her when they’d w
alked back to the keep. Those hadn’t been her friend’s first words, though. While Gregor Kincaid strode beside them holding Anice’s hand, his countenance giving no sense of disapproval or alarm, it was almost comical the way dear Anice had fumbled and stumbled over words, until finally she’d blurted, “Ada, what just happened?” And then, before Ada could respond that she herself wasn’t exactly sure, Anice had asked, “Are you really leaving with Jamie?”

  Her reply had come quickly, hinting at a bit of defensiveness. “Unless you tell me he is evil, or bad, then yes, I am.”

  “I would—could!—tell you no such thing. Jamie is...” she’d waved a hand, searching for words or thoughts, “he’s quiet and moody and frankly, I think he carries much sorrow.”

  “But your husband would not be friendly with a depraved person?”

  Gregor had furrowed his thick brows over his dark eyes. But it was Anice who had answered, “He would not.”

  “Then I will go with him. I cannot stay here forever, living off your generosity—” Ada quickened her words to prevent the argument she saw rising in Anice “—and the idea of living out my days at a cloister never did sit well with me. This is...something, at least.”

  Anice had made no further attempt to deter her, yet her expression showed still some hesitancy. “But if you should ever need anything—anything at all—you are always welcome here.”

  Ada had embraced the very dear woman and told her, “You’ve given me more than you know, and I will forever be grateful.”

  But now, as the very kind Anice and Stonehaven grew smaller and smaller behind her, Ada bit her lip, and could only hope she’d not made another mistake where Jamie MacKenna was concerned.

  His voice came at her ear, his breath warm. “We’ve a long road ahead, lass. You’ll no want to be so stiff. Ride the rhythm, dinna fight against it.”