Her One Desire by Kimberly Killion Page A

forth a memory.
    “Picture Heaven and ye will see Scotland. I cannae think of another place I would rather live and die.” He spoke of Scotland like a lover. “Six months have passed since I’ve seen my homelands, but I know spring is bearing her gentle hand. Wildflowers are coming to life around the rivers and lochs.”
    “What kind of flowers?” Lizzy wanted to smell his kingdom, make a scent that would capture the essence of Scotland. She reveled at the thought of making a new soap, a new oil.
    “Purple ones, white ones, some pink.” He shrugged. “Aunt Radella and Aunt Jean dry them and mix them with the floor rushes.”
    She smiled at the simplicity of his description. “You’ve a big family?”

“Aye. Everything is bigger in Scotland. The beds, the chambers … the men. Hundreds live within the bailey at Skonoir Castle. We feast in the keep every Sabbath. The men argue and fight, the women cook and yell at their bairns. And chickens,” he added as an afterthought. “The damned chickens are all over the place. The courtyard is riddled with them. They follow ye everywhere.”
    “Beatrice would like that.”
    “Tis hardly a peaceful place, I admit, but one is never at a loss for company.”
    “Tis why you do not like the quiet.”
    “I am simply unaccustomed to it.” His tone softened. She thought of how quiet and alone her life had been and part of her yearned for the life he described. “Have you a healer among your people?”
    “Aye. A right mean auld crone. She hides her herbs and potions and is stingy as the devil.” He gave a dramatic shiver, trying to humor her, no doubt.
    “You jest. She cannot be so bad. Who is she?” He laughed. “My grandmum. The bairns are terrified of her, as am I.”
    Lizzy tried to picture him cowering to his grandmother.
    “Tell me why.”
    “Every time I pay visit, she pokes me with her bony fingers and badgers me about breeding.”
    “Breeding?”
    “Aye. I am the son of a man who sired twelve bairns. Tis expected of me to do the same.”
    Twelve? Lizzy practically drooled. She would have given anything for just one sister.
    “I can say all their names in one breath.”
    The tickle dancing in her throat snuck out between her lips in a sort of hoot. His head turned, popping his neck in two snaps. “Think ye I cannae do it?” He took a deep breath, held it, for extra drama, no doubt, and then… “Magnus—named after Da, but died in infancy; Aiden—named after my grandda; Broderick—that would be me, named after my da’s brother; Muira—named after my mam; then Radella, Jean, Lindsay—
    named after my aunts on my mam’s side; Beth, Deirdre, Lilian, Mattie—named after my aunts on my da’s side: and Ian.” He inhaled and beamed a wide grin. Her giggles turned into outright laughter by the time he’d finished. “You must be proud of your skill.”
    “Oh, aye.”
    “Was Ian named after anyone in your family or did you run out of breath?”
    He chuckled again, creasing his cheeks with dimples. “Da was so elated to get another male heir after eight girls he told Mam to name him whatever she liked.”
    “Your family sounds lovely. I can see why you would want to protect them.”
    His eyes closed. “Tis a duty I fear I have failed.” Lord Maxwell undoubtedly thought of the brother he’d been unable to protect from Father’s whip. “I wish my father hadn’t stolen your brother from you.”
    He looked at her. “Ye should know that Aiden had been beaten nigh to death before we were delivered to the Tower.” “It does not change the fact that he was alive before Father delivered the lashes.”
    Silence followed.
    “Mayhap we should find our rest now,” she suggested.
    “Mayhap.”
    Lizzy turned her back to him and curled her hands beneath her cheek. She anticipated the loud rumble of his snoring, but his breathing was soft and his movements restless. Her eyes fixed on the candle flame sputtering its last bit of life. Only moments later, the