Forgotten Secrets (Secrets of the Heart Series Book 4) Read online

  “Dinna tell anyone?” Morag was so excited that she wanted to shout it to the world.

  “Not a soul,” answered Mazelina. “Not your father, and not even your sister or your cousins.”

  “No one?” asked Morag once again, feeling the need welling in her chest to tell someone. If she had to keep it to herself she was sure she would explode.

  “No one,” repeated Mazelina in a stern voice. “If you tell a soul, I will not help you. Instead, I will leave you and you will never see me again.”

  “Nay,” cried Morag, feeling a knot twisting in her stomach. This was something she wanted more than anything. But could she really keep it a secret? It would be torture not to tell her sister and cousins. Aye, it would be the hardest thing she ever did in her life. Still, she had no other choice but to keep it to herself.

  “So, then, ye will be my mentor?” Morag’s heart soared. This was what she’d always wanted. Now she would be included and feel like a real member of the secret group. “Ye’ll guide me and teach me how to do great things, the way Imanie taught Fia, Willow, and Maira to do?”

  “No one can teach anyone to do great things, Morag. That comes from inside here.” Mazelina tapped her fingers against her chest.

  “But I dinna ken how to do important things on my own.”

  “You need to have faith in yourself and it will happen in time, just like it did for the others.”

  “Can ye teach me how to have faith in myself – like ye said?”

  “Are you willing to learn and also to change your ways? After all, your inability to keep a secret might be what’s kept you from believing in yourself all this time. A wagging tongue can cause a lot of damage that, in some cases, can never be reversed.”

  Morag thought about all the times she had blurted out secrets that her sister or cousins didn’t want anyone to know. Aye, she supposed she had caused trouble in the past from repeating things she knew or heard. But, perhaps, Mazelina could help her change.

  Morag took a deep breath and released it slowly. She had to do this. This was an opportunity that she couldn’t let pass her by. “I ken what ye mean and, aye, I would like to try to change.”

  “Trying and doing are not the same. The first steps in understanding yourself are to know what you want and not to let anything keep you from reaching your goal.”

  “Aye, I want it!” Morag exclaimed. “I want ye to mentor me so I can find my true talent and do important things like my sister and cousins. But why can I no’ tell Fia, Willow, or Maira about ye? After all, they are Followers of the Secret Heart. I dinna think I should have to keep it a secret from them.”

  “We have a deal,” Mazelina reminded her. “If you choose to honor it or not is up to you.”

  “Morag,” came her father’s shout from the opposite side of the garden. “Quit talkin’ to yerself, and let’s get goin’ before it snows.” Reed walked up behind her. His shoulder-length, red hair gently lifted around his shoulders in the breeze. His long, woolen cloak like an Englishman would wear was draped over his plaid – the markings of a true Scot.

  Even though Reed and his brothers were born from English parents, they grew up in Scotland. Reed had always considered himself a Scot, like Ross Douglas, the man who raised him. Reed eventually married his Scottish sweetheart, Maggie Gordon. Morag’s family lived in Scotland now while her cousins’ families lived across the border in England.

  Since childhood, Morag had been fostered by the Earl of Northumberland, along with her sister and cousins. But now, everyone had gone their separate ways. Her sister and cousins were married and even the earl had left, off fighting for the king.

  Morag didn’t want to be alone. And that is why they’d returned to collect her belongings and head back to Scotland. There she would be reunited with her family once again.

  “I’m no’ talkin’ to myself, Da. I’m talkin’ to –” Morag stopped short when she remembered Mazelina’s warning. Turning back, she was surprised to find that the woman was no longer there. Perhaps, she had headed back into the house or, mayhap, the stable. All for the better since her presence here was supposed to remain a secret.

  After letting out a deep sigh, Morag bit her tongue, trying hard not to let the secret slip from her lips. “I’m ready to go now,” she told her father instead.

  Reed put his arm around her shoulders and escorted her toward the gate. “As soon as we collect yer things, we’ll join up with Branton and be on our way back to Scotland where ye belong. Yer mathair, sister, and brathairs await us.”

  “Branton doesna need to come back to Scotland with us, Da,” said Morag, talking about the boy of five and ten years who had been friends with Morag and the other girls since they moved to Rothbury to be the earl’s wards.

  “Aye, ye are right,” her father agreed. “However, Branton will be makin’ the trip with us at his insistence to help see to yer safety. Now that he’s a squire to Maira’s husband, Sir Jacob, he willna be able to stay away from Durham long. But he says he wants to protect ye even though I’m with ye.” Reed chuckled. “There is no need for him at all, Morag, no’ when ye’ve got me.” Reed tapped the hilt of his sword to prove his point.

  “Then why did ye allow him to join us?” asked Morag in confusion. She liked the lad but would rather have had time alone to spend with her father. Morag always longed for the attention from her father that he’d graciously given Fia.

  “I needed someone to drive the cart,” her father answered. “Besides, an extra sword is better than a servant who canna fight at all. Since we’re crossin’ over the border, it is always a guid idea to have more protection.”

  “I suppose ye’re right,” answered Morag as they got to the gate and mounted their steeds.

  “Take one last look at yer precious secret garden,” Reed told her. “This will be the last time ye ever see it.”

  “Perhaps it will, and mayhap it willna,” said Morag, looking back over her shoulder, trying her hardest not to say a word about her plans. Excitement filled her to think about returning in the spring. Finally, she would have the chance to be mentored like the others. And with being the only one, Morag wouldn’t have to share the attention. This is exactly what she had always longed for.

  Perhaps, Mazelina was right in saying that destiny had plans for her after all. Morag wished for Imanie to come back to life and, in her place, her sister appeared. What were the odds of that happening? Whatever plans destiny had in store for her, Morag only hoped that she would never be forgotten again.

  Chapter 1

  England, Spring, 1387

  Spring couldn’t come fast enough as far as Morag was concerned. And although she loved being back home in Scotland with her family and Fia’s new baby, all she’d been able to think about all winter long was returning to the secret garden. It had been excruciatingly hard to keep quiet for so long about Mazelina. Morag felt extremely excited and wanted more than anything to tell her sister. But what was even harder than keeping her secret was trying to think of an excuse to go back to England once winter was over.

  She had been at her wit’s end trying to come up with a story that would allow her to return. It wasn’t going to be easy since her mother was thrilled to have her home after so many years. And her father swore he would never let his children live in England again, even if it was by order of a king.

  Morag had just about given up hope of ever being mentored by Mazelina. Then, one day in spring, destiny poked its head out of the snow like a seedling pushing its way through a crack in the ground, searching for the sun. Aye, an opportunity arose that she never thought would happen for her. She was determined to use it to get back to England after all.

  “Da! Mathair! Someone approaches,” called out Morag’s brother, Conall.

  “They’re bluidy Sassenachs,” added his twin brother, Dugal, rushing up behind him. The boys were almost six and ten years of age now and already much taller than Morag. They were turning into men quickly and were no longer boys. Conall had
red hair like their father and Dugal’s hair was dark like their mother’s. Both boys were slim but Morag noticed muscles forming in their arms from all the time they spent practicing with the sword.

  “There’s someone here?” asked Morag excitedly, handing baby Oletha back to Fia and rushing for the door. Her father got there first and stepped in front of her to block the exit.

  “I’ll take care of this,” announced Reed in a low voice, sliding his sword out of the sheath. “If they’re Sassenachs, it can only mean trouble.”

  “Faither, ye’re a Sassenach, as well as yer brathairs and their wives,” Morag reminded him, getting a nasty glare from him in return.

  “Laddies, Morag, get away from the door,” called out their mother. “Fia, take the bairn into the back room and hide until yer faither tells ye it is safe to come out.”

  “Aye, Mathair,” said Fia, picking up the squalling babe. “I wish Alastair were here to protect us.” Fia had been visiting her family with the baby while her husband, Laird Alastair MacPherson, had stayed with his clan in the Highlands.

  “I wish Uncle Duff was here,” said Conall, speaking of their mother’s brother.

  “Haud yer wheesht, all of ye,” snapped Reed. “Ye make it sound like ye dinna think I can protect ye. Have ye forgotten who I am?”

  “Nay, Da,” said Dugal. Then the boys answered in unison and in a monotone as they rolled their eyes. “Ye are a Legendary Bastard of the Crown.”

  “Come on, lads,” said Maggie, heading to the back room of the cottage.

  “We ken how to fight,” complained Dugal.

  “We’ve got our own swords,” added Conall. “Let’s get those bluidy Sassenachs.”

  “Ye heard yer mathair, now go!” commanded Reed, sending the boys hurrying off after their mother. “Ye, too, Morag,” said Reed, keeping his attention focused on the approaching traveling party.

  Morag peeked around her father, sticking her head out the door. Two mounted English guards and a messenger approached the cottage. Another man traveled behind them atop a horse, but she couldn’t see him well from her position behind her father’s massive form. As the English came closer, Morag recognized the messenger boy as well as the crest on the horse’s trappings.

  “Da, that’s Barnaby, Lord Beaufort’s messenger,” she told him anxiously.

  “It is?” asked Reed, pushing her behind him in a protective manner. He squinted his eyes and held tightly to the hilt of his sword as the party rode closer.

  “Aye, and if I’m no’ mistaken, isna that Branton behind the guards?” Morag poked her head under her father’s arm this time to get a better look.

  “Why in God’s name would Lord Rothbury send them here?” mumbled Reed, reaching out and holding on to the doorframe to keep Morag from leaving the cottage.

  “Let’s find out!” Morag quickly ducked under her father’s arm and ran out to greet the visitors.

  “Morag, get back here!” shouted Reed, hurrying after her.

  “Branton!” Morag waved a hand in the air as she hurried to meet with the travelers.

  “Morag, how are you?” Branton slid off his horse and ran over to greet her. She felt so happy to see him that she threw her arms around his neck in a hug. “Where is Fia?” asked Branton, releasing her and looking toward the cottage. “I can’t wait to see her and her cute little baby again.”

  “Fia?” Morag dropped her arms to her sides, feeling defeated. Branton looked right past her as if he didn’t even know she was there.

  “Fia is in the house with the rest of the family,” Reed answered for her, joining them. “Go on in, Branton,” he said with a nod of his head. The boy hurried off into the house more excited to see Fia and the baby than he was to see Morag. It didn’t feel good to Morag at all. She was the one, along with her cousin, Maira, who had the closest relationship with the boy. Yet, no one would know it by the way he acted.

  “Barnaby, why are ye here?” asked Morag, turning her attention to the messenger so her father wouldn’t see the disappointment on her face.

  “Aye,” said Reed, still holding tightly to his sword. “What would cause ye to risk yer lives with a trip onto Scottish soil?”

  “We come in peace, Douglas. You can put away the sword,” stated one of the guards, lifting his hands to show he wasn’t a threat and held no weapon.

  “I’ll no’ put down the sword unless I feel like it,” snapped Reed. “After all, ye are stinkin’ Sassenachs and ye are on my land and uninvited.”

  “Faither, please,” begged Morag as she spied one of the guards move his hand toward his sword. She had to interfere before a fight broke out. “It’s all right, Da. I’m sure they mean us no trouble.” She reached out and rested her hand on her father’s forearm.

  “That’s right,” said the messenger. “We are here at the request of Lady Rothbury to deliver a message.” Barnaby reached down from atop his horse, handing Reed the missive.

  “Did ye say, Lady Rothbury?” Reed reluctantly sheathed his sword, keeping his eyes on the guards’ movements at all times. Then he took the parchment from the boy. “Dinna ye mean Earl Rothbury?”

  “Nay, my lord,” answered the boy with a quick shake of his head.

  “I’m no’ a laird,” grumbled Reed, opening the missive and scanning it quickly.

  Morag watched as her father’s face clouded over. His mouth turned down in a frown.

  “What is it, Da?” asked Morag in concern.

  “Here. Read it for yerself.” Reed handed the parchment to Morag and looked back at the house. “Conall, Dugal, come take care of the horses,” Reed called out, causing Morag’s brothers to run out of the cottage so quickly that Morag realized they had been waiting at the door. Then her father spoke to the guards. “Ye are welcome to come inside the house to rest for a spell. My wife, Maggie, will offer ye food and ale.”

  “Much obliged,” said one of the guards as they dismounted their steeds.

  Morag read the missive, feeling her heart skip a beat in surprise. “Nay!” she exclaimed, not wanting to believe what she read. “The earl has died!”

  “What is it, Morag?” Fia rushed out of the cottage with her mother at her side. “What’s wrong?”

  Branton followed behind them carrying the baby, apparently so distracted by Fia and her daughter that he hadn’t even told them the sad news.

  “Lord Rothbury died fightin’ for the king,” said Morag, unable to believe that their guardian was gone. She felt a surge of grief wash through her.

  “Nay!” shouted Fia, grabbing the parchment from Morag to see it. “It canna be true.”

  “It is,” said Branton, bouncing the baby in his arms and making faces at the little girl until she smiled. “Since the earl has died without issue, the king said Castle Rothbury and all the earl’s holdings are going to be given away.”

  “Given away?” asked Morag’s mother. “I canna believe it.”

  “Why tell us?” sniffed Reed. “We are Scottish and have no interest in any castle or lands unless they are on this side of the border.”

  Branton continued to make faces at the baby as he explained everything to them. “Lady Rothbury is having a huge gathering at the castle. King Richard won’t let her keep it since she is a woman and the earl had no heir. Since the earl died protecting Richard, he has allowed Lady Rothbury to help decide who will claim the earl’s demesne.”

  “She wants us all to come for the feast,” said Morag excitedly. “It said so in the missive. Da, mayhap ye’ll get a castle like Uncle Rook and Uncle Rowen after all.”

  “If I own a castle someday, it’ll be in Scotland, no’ England,” snapped Reed. He pulled the missive out of Fia’s hand and shoved it back at the messenger. “As soon as the horses are rested and ye’ve had yer fill to eat, ye and yer guards can head right back to Rothbury. Tell the earl’s wife thank ye but that we decline the invitation.”

  “Da, nay!” cried Morag, knowing this was her only chance to get back to England. “We were invited,
and it is only proper that we go.”

  “Morag, I canna go,” said Fia. “I need to get back to the Highlands. Alastair is waitin’ for me. Plus, it is too dangerous of a trip for the bairn.” She reached over and took her baby back from Branton.

  “We want to go,” shouted out Conall as the twins took the reins of the guards’ horses.

  “Aye, Da, we want to live in a castle,” added Dugal.

  “Be quiet,” scolded their mother. “Yer faither has already made his decision and we’ll respect it.”

  “Lads, ye are old enough now that ye’ll stay here to be married this spring,” Reed announced.

  “Married? To who?” asked Conall.

  “Whoever I choose for ye. I assure ye that the lassies will be Scottish.”

  “Then we’re no’ goin’ to England?” whined Dugal.

  “Nay, we’ll stay right here in Scotland where we belong,” Reed said in finality.

  “But Da, there will be lots of single knights there,” said Morag. “Mayhap I’ll even find one to marry. After all, I am older than the twins, so I should marry before them. Then I can have a bairn like Fia and give ye a grandchild as well. Dinna ye want more grandchildren?”

  “No daughter of mine is goin’ to live in England, or marry a Sassenach,” growled Reed. “So get that absurd idea out of yer head right now.”

  “Reed, the girls already lived in England for nearly ten years of their lives,” Maggie reminded him.

  “That was only because the king ordered it,” growled Reed. “Morag, when I decide to betroth ye, it’ll be to a Scot and no’ a stinkin’ Sassenach. Do ye hear me?”

  “But I’m already well past marryin’ age,” Morag reminded him. “And Fia got to choose her husband, so I should, too.” Morag had to get back to the secret garden and this was the only way to do it. She needed to convince her father to let her go. Morag crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin in the air defiantly, challenging Reed and waiting for his answer.