“’Tis nothin’. Can ye make it?” His smile vanished. “We shouldna stay in here any longer withoot a chaperone. I will take ye back to the castle.”
She had less than an hour before she was to say her vows.
“Will ye be able to get to the church when the time comes?”
She nodded and smiled, and Galeren’s heart broke and fell in pieces at his feet.
She was going through with it then. He saw her considering what she was doing and nod again. She’d chosen a different life. He wanted to change her mind, but he wouldn’t fight to take her from God. Very well then, he would let her go, but he wouldn’t leave her here alone. They would remain friends. The threat of him would be gone. If there was someone besides the steward who would hurt her, he would find out who it was and deal with him. He would stay here with the army until she left to wherever she would live. He would stay for John’s bairns, but he would keep his distance with John and Matilda Stewart.
How was he going to see Silene? Speak with her and not desire her every day, in every way? How would he love her and never be with her? He almost groaned out loud.
They left the barn and started back for the castle. Margaret held Daffodil but the kitten wanted to ride with Galeren and finally leaped from Margaret’s arms into his. He petted the kitten’s head while she snuggled into to crook of his neck. Since Matilda refused to let them keep Daffodil, he had decided to leave the kitten in the barn where other kittens her age grew up. The children promised to care for her and play with her every day.
He wondered now, with tiny Daffodil purring near his ear, if she would have followed him all the way to Invergarry. She seemed quite attached to him, as he was to her.
“When will you be leaving?” Silene asked him.
He laughed a little. “I’m not leavin’ ye here with someone who would threaten ye, lass. When ’tis time to take ye back to St. Patrice’s, I will escort ye—and then I will go home.”
“Captain,” she said as she turned to him. “I do not want to sever whatever is between us, but God has made it clear by our mountainous obstacles that our way is not together.”
“Aye, we have obstacles, but why should such a treasure come withoot a fight? We can overcome the obstacles if we dinna give up.”
“Not if we are dead,” she argued.
“I will protect ye, Silene. D’ye not trust me?”
“I do, but I also fear my uncle. You are the most adored man. These people do not follow John. They follow you, andstillsomeone would threaten your life! They are not afraid. It has to be Uncle John.” She whispered so the children could not hear these things about their father.
“Aye. I will keep my eyes on him. I have not fergotten that he has already betrayed me.”
“You see? He is not to be trusted, Captain.”
He knew what she was saying was important. But he didn’t want to waste any more time with her thinking about her uncle. He didn’t care about the steward. He only cared about her. He should have fought this sooner. The first time he saw her on the cliffs. He should have let her ride with Mac, but why put his friend through it? He should not have ridden with her until she could ride on her own. He’d allowed her to crawl under his skin while he watched her pray and when he fought others for her life and left ten dead. He should have pushed her away when his heart stirred for her, awakening when she refused to leave three hungry children in a village.
He never should have kissed her.
But he wasn’t sorry for any of it.
“Captain?”
He smiled at her and then blinked out of it. “Aye?”
“You have not heard a word I have said.”
It was true. He couldn’t deny it. “I was rememberin’…”
“Remembering what?” she pressed.
“When I first laid eyes on ye, and all the days after that. They were too pleasant to leave fer thoughts of John.”
She tossed him a wistful smile. “Aye, I think of those things often.”
He frowned and looked away at the castle looming closer.
“Speak plainly please,” she said.
Before he could stop himself, the words left his mouth, rolled off his tongue. “Fergive me, but if ye are goin’ to be a nun, I dinna think there should be any doubt—or any need of time to think aboot it.”