Read Online Flame by May McGoldrick - Free Book Online Page A

riding down that
hill. She would get down from her mare and walk to this fire and
sit so silently before it. Just as you are doing now.”
    How could she know this? he wondered. How
could she bring up Joanna’s name when he’d just been thinking of
her. As far as Mater knew, he had never known the young woman.
Despite what his heart kept trying to tell him, he never had so
much as met her. He gazed across the fire at the old woman. One who
can read thoughts, Gavin knew, can be a powerful friend...or an
even more powerful foe.
    “Your soul is tormented, laird,” she added.
“But hers was troubled as deeply as yours.”
    Gavin’s face darkened and his eyes narrowed.
As far as her words about him, the warrior knew his features
reflected the grimness that he carried within him. But what she
said about Joanna alarmed him. That portrait was a picture of youth
and happiness and hope.
    “Were you her confidante?” he asked. “Her
advisor?”
    “To her, I was Mater.”
    Her simple declaration was powerful, but he
wasn’t convinced. “A household of servants tell me she was happy,”
he stressed. “And yet...”
    “Those who knew her well are dead.”
    “And you are the last living person who can
tell me more about her?”
    “Nay, not the last one,” she said
enigmatically, shaking her head. “But there was a time when she
would escape Ironcross and take refuge here. Aye, many a time we
would spend a few hours here by this fire...here in the abbey.”
    Gavin’s eyes drifted to the woman’s hands as
she stirred the contents of now simmering kettle. “What was the
reason for her misery?”
    She didn’t answer his question, but instead
picked up a wooden bowl.
    “How could a woman of her age and place be
plagued with sorrow as deep as...” Gavin cut his own words
short.
    “As deep as your own?” she finished. “Nay,
laird. How could a man in your place and position be so
tortured as she !”
    She dipped the wooden bowl into the kettle.
Stretching her two hands across the fire, she offered him the
steaming potion. Gavin took it.
    “How?” The warrior chief looked her in the
eye, and then, surprised at his own openness, heard himself say
plainly, “Grief!”
    She picked up the wooden spoon and continued
to stir again. Gavin brought the bowl to his lips.
    “A man who conceals his grief,” she said,
“will find no remedy for it.”
    Gavin paused. “I do not conceal it. I simply
wonder if there is a remedy for it.”
    “You haven’t been searching for one.”
    “Perhaps no remedy exists.”
    "What happens if I were to tell you that I
have the answer?”
    He just stared.
    “Would you believe me?”
    “This is foolishness!”
    “You don’t believe me!”
    “I’m not here to discuss my grief.” His tone
was curt even to his own ear, but unexpectedly, he saw Mater’s eyes
soften with understanding.
    “Learn to weep, laird, and you will learn to
laugh again.”
    Looking at her, it occurred to him that she
spoke as if she’d known him for years. And despite what he liked to
admit, he knew that he did indeed conceal his grief beneath his
fierce exterior. Gavin stared at her more closely. From the time
that he was a lad, he had never wept. He recalled once wondering
if, once started, he would ever be able to stop.
    He looked down at the bowl in his hands, and
his thoughts returned to Joanna and her pain.
    “For whom did she grieve?” he asked
gruffly.
    “The answers to your questions about Joanna
MacInnes await you at your keep.”
    He shook his head. “All who knew her
closely--the ones who could answer any questions about her--they
are all dead. You said so yourself.”
    Gavin watched the spark again come back into
her eyes as Mater looked at him straight in the eye. He waited for
her to say more, but she didn’t. Feeling the weight of the bowl in
his hands, he brought it to his lips. The brew was soothing and
warm as it went down.
    A moment passed as Mater watched his face.
Gavin returned her gaze