“You know him well?”
“We are true friends. I would have no other watch over you.”
“And what of you?” she asked. “Where do you go, if I may inquire?”
“I go to speak with Magnus and make plans for your final destination.”
“I should go with you.”
“For your safety it is better you remain here,” he said.
“But it is my future that Magnus and you are deciding. What of my choices?”
“Safety and freedom are your only choices,” he reminded. “Your destination will be born of necessity.”
“You will be careful?” She did not want to admit he was right and she did not want him to go. She wanted more time with him. Time to discover, time to love, time for a miracle.
He cupped her chin. “Worry not about me. I will be fine.”
She smiled. “I love you.” And her eyes drifted close, waiting for him to kiss her.
After a gentle kiss they parted and with a wave Mary watched him disappear into the woods. She sighed and sat on the castle’s broken stone wall, already missing Michael.
He made such a difference in her life or perhaps it was love that made the difference. She had often wondered if she would ever find love, but then how could she not. Her parents had made certain to lavish her with love. At an early age she understood that love was unselfish, love was patient, love was security, and love was . . .
A tear trickled from the corner of her eye. And love was forever, even if that person was no longer with you.
Mary wiped at the tear with determination. She had lost her parents; she refused to lose Michael. Her life had been in the hands of others since her parents death, and it was time she took charge and made her own decisions.
Michael would be gone a week or more and his absence would give her time to ponder her options. But what were her options?
Run or face Decimus.
Neither was the answer she was looking for.
Could she find something in between?
A sharp crack of a branch caught her attention, and she immediately sought the safety of the castle. She hid behind a section of the crumbled wall and watched to see who approached.
A man stepped out of the woods, looked around, and then walked toward the castle. He was huge, tall as a tree, with the girth of a tree trunk and flaming red hair and a beard to match. His sword was strapped to his back and a sheathed dirk fastened to his belt. He wore a pale yellow linen shirt beneath his blue, red, and yellow plaid, and he carried himself with a confidence born of strength. And while he was not a handsome man, there was something about his features that appealed to the eye.
He stopped before reaching the castle door and looked about, then announced his arrival. “I am Roarke; Michael sent me.”
Mary stepped into sight with a smile. “Welcome, Roarke, it is pleased that I am to have your company.”
His grin was wide. “And pleased I am to be here, though tell me you can cook and I will be more pleased.”
Mary laughed. “My food has been known to bring smiles.”
“Then I am a happy man, Mary.”
He stepped forward as Mary approached him and offered his hand. She took it, and the strength of his handshake caused her eyes to widen.
“You are an army of one.”
“Aye, so you need not worry over your safety.”
“I have been in good hands,” she said. “And I remain so.”
“Good, now tell me if there is anything you need of me before I hunt for our midday meal.”
“Nothing at the moment, though the wood for the cook fire is growing low.”
“I will see to that when I am done hunting.” He turned, then paused and looked back at her. “Michael told me to remind you that you are not to go to the stream alone.”
“He has told me that many times.”
“Your near capture frightened him, and I have never known Michael to be frightened.”
Mary watched the large man walk off and a soft smile slowly surfaced. She was part of Michael’s heart and he a part of hers. Their hearts were one and must remain so. They could not survive without each other.
She looked to the heavens.
I need a miracle. Help me.
Mary made a fine stew from the rabbits Roarke snared. He did not stop praising her food, and promised to keep her well stocked with fresh game so that she could work her magic with food.
She, however, intended to work her magic on discovering what she could about Michael. She learned soon enough that Roarke liked to talk. The subject did not matter; he talked on anything and found interest in it.
“How long have you known Michael?” she asked.
“Some time.”
“Did he rescue you?”