The Faithful Heart, Sorcha MacMurrough: HerStory Books

As novice Sister Attracta, formerly Morgana Maguire, laboured on her knees digging in the still partly frozen soil, a shadow fell over her prostrate form. The new scent she breathed in had naught to do with the garden.

Morgana shuddered with cold and fear, and slowly rose to face her visitor. She hoped her face would appear a mask of indifference, though inside her heart hammered against her ribs painfully.

"Well, Ruairc MacMahon, state your business, and leave. I have work to do here, as you can see," Morgana declared flatly.

As the silence stretched, Morgana's violet eyes finally rose to met Ruairc's emerald green ones. She blushed furiously at the openly speculative appraisal that she saw there. Like he's trying to strip me naked, she thought resentfully, seeing the painfully familiar flame of passion in his eyes.

The passage of time hadn't diminished him in any way that she could see. Certainly not in height. Ruairc towered over her, so with a proud lift of her chin, Morgana met his gaze head-on, refusing to be cowed by him as she had once been, long ago, in her other life.

"No word of welcome for me then, my dear? After all, I am one of your oldest friends, and the man you were once betrothed to."

"You and I have nothing to say to one another, Ruairc, especially not after all this time. So if you are trying to cause trouble, or make me change my mind about taking my vows soon..."

"As if I could ever make you change your mind about anything!" Ruairc snapped. Then he took a deep, steadying breath, shook his head, and tried once more.

"No, Morgana, I'm not here to beg and plead with you to see my way, to trust me, for the words would only fall on deaf ears as they did two years ago, and I have a strong objection to making a fool of myself twice."

Morgana turned her back on him, and started to gather up her tools. "Really, I have no intention of standing here listening to this...."

"Morgana, for pity's sake, just stop a minute, and hear what I have to say," Ruairc insisted, as he wrestled with her for possession of the spade.

She raised her hands, surrendering the tool to him rather than become any further embroiled. He was just too near.... "All right, I'll give you one minute, and then I'm going inside. What can your aunt be thinking of, allowing you to come here like this!"

"Morgana, I've come here to give you a choice, to come home with me now, or remain here forever locked inside this cloister."

"Why should I go home, Ruairc?" Morgana argued as she bent to resume her work, this time with her hoe. "There is much to do here, and this is the fate I chose for myself. How dare you question me?"

She caught sight of one of the older nuns eyeing her with a frown. Morgana knew that with the late spring they were well behind on their planting already, without her wasting her time going over ancient history with her worst enemy.

"This is the life I've chosen. I'll thank you to leave me be so I can get on with my work." She began to hoe as though her life depended on it. Which it did, since almost everything they had they got for themselves.

"Why shouldn't you come to see your family and friends? I'd be happy to act as your escort." "I wouldn't set foot outside--" "You're still only a novice. You can come home any time you like. All the people from the castle and village send their love, and ..."

She threw down the hoe. "Stop it! Don't you dare say another word. I know what you're trying to do, and it won't work, do you hear!" Morgana hissed, trying to avoid making a scene.

"I've left my old life behind through my own free will, and there's no point in looking back. It can't change anything that happened. I want to leave it all behind, don't you see? I don't want to be cursed with remembering!"

"My dear, I know it was painful at the end, but was it really such a curse?" he asked gently. "I remember so much joy too."

She shook her head. "It's all past. This avails you nothing, my lord. My future is as a nun, here at this convent. In less than a fortnight I am to take my final vows. So your trick hasn't worked, Ruairc. Nothing you can say will seduce me back into your arms, so spare yourself the time and breath, and just leave now."

Morgana looked at Ruairc again squarely as she finished her impassioned speech, but even as she was demanding that he go, she inhaled the musky maleness of him, and her stomach began to turn somersaults. She struggled frantically to subdue the longing she felt every time he was near. Despite her brave words, she ached for one of his masterful kisses to overpower her more rational self.

Almost as if sensing her inner thoughts, Ruairc moved closer to her. Morgana stepped back hastily to avoid any physical contact. She tripped over her rake and would have been sent sprawling had Ruairc not caught her.

He pulled her close, and then smoothed down the white novice's habit in a soothing gesture.

"Morgana, my love, I have not come here to fight with you, or trick you in any way. I've come to tell you that your father isn't at all well, and will not rest until you come to see him."

Morgana sagged against Ruairc, taking comfort from his strength and the warmth which emanated from his huge frame. But suspicions still lurked in the back of her mind. She also suddenly realised she was in full view of the entire convent as they headed out of the cloister and into the church for prayers.

"I c-c-can't," she stammered, pulling away. "My duty, my vows. I must...."

"I've spoken to my aunt already. She has released you for as long as you need to be away. I know you are to take your vows in a fortnight's time. She's explained all that. But she pointed out that even if you miss the bishop this time, there will be other times for him to accept you into the Church. But there may not ever be another chance to see your father again," Ruairc added.

He saw Morgana stiffen visibly, and she digested the import of his words in sullen silence.

He knew Morgana so well, and yet she could be such a stranger, Ruairc reflected, as he gazed at her lovely face under its coif, and longed to see the vibrant auburn hair concealed underneath.

A stray curl peeped out, and he tucked it behind her ear, and said in a softer tone, "Morgana, I know how difficult this is for you, especially since you and your father have had so many differences in the past. But the truth is, he has been ill for some time. Though he has done his best to rally, I fear the worst. The whole family has been sent for, and I have been charged to bring you home safely to Lisleavan with all possible haste."

Morgana gasped as his warm fingers caressed her cheek. She slapped his hand away and gave an arrogant toss of her head. "And why, if this were true, would he send you of all people to fetch me, Ruairc? My father must know you're the last person I would ever trust, or would ever wish to see again, even if he could bring himself to trust you again, which I very much doubt."

Ruairc's emerald green eyes glittered coldly, and his mouth tightened into a thin line. "I don't know the exact circumstances of the illness, for I have been in service in Dublin these past two years. I was only summoned to Lisleavan a week ago," he temporised, not sure how much of the truth he ought to reveal to her at this point.

"Your father sent for me to make amends. We have made our peace with one another, Morgana. He has sent me because he trusts me, and he knows that no matter what you think may have happened in the past, I would never let any harm come to you," Ruairc asserted. "Please, my sweet, no matter what you think I may or may not have done, surely you know in your heart I would never willilngly cause you harm."

Morgana stood with her back to Ruairc, weighing his words.

He came up softly behind her, and pleaded quietly, "Morgana, I give you my word, if all is well at Lisleavan, you can stick my head up on a pole with your own two hands. I pray your father will be well again soon, and then I assure you, you can come back here as soon as you like. But if he really is dying, I think you owe it to him and the rest of the clan to be by his side, patch up your differences, and ease his troubled mind.

"I'm only his foster son. You're the eldest of his daughters. He trusts us both to do what needs to be done, for the good of all the clan. The harvests have been poor, and there has been trouble with neighbouring landholders," Ruairc added reluctantly.

"With your brothers, you mean!" Morgana spat, spinning around to face him, her eye blazing with furious loyalty to her clan.

Ruairc almost laughed aloud with relief. For a few moments he had almost feared she would retreat back into the cloister. Her true nature was now showing itself once more, as she gathered her tools and then hitched up her skirts.

"If the clan needs me, summons me, I must obey. I hope you're wrong about my father, but if the Mother Superior has given me permission to leave, I might as well take advantage of her generosity and go," she reasoned as she strode purposely toward the main building of the convent, a low stone edifice with mullioned windows.

With a sweep of her skirts she flew up the stairs into the entryway. Ruairc had to run to catch up to her.

"I'll be right with you, my lord Ruairc."

"At your service. I'll be waiting, my lady Morgana." He gave her a deep bow.

Then he stepped down the corridor a short distance, and tapped on the door and re-entered his aunt's private study.

He entered when he was commanded, and sat down by the fire to partake of the Mother Superior's hospitality. As he sat sipping a small glass of wine, he mused on how predictable Morgana was after all. Her clan. Her home, meant everything to her. It was this overwhelming love which had made her take to the convent two years ago, and though he knew from his aunt that she struggled desperately to be a good nun and devote her life to God, the wildness inside her had refused to be tamed. There had been no mistaking the light that glowed in her violet eyes at the prospect of seeing her family and friends again, even though her attitude towards him had been less than friendly.

Ruairc felt a pang of conscience prick him sorely. Was he doing the right thing by insisting she come back with him? He wanted to spend every waking moment of the rest of his life with her, of that he was sure. He knew he was being selfish by jumping at the chance of coming to see her, and of having such a good excuse as her father's illness to spend some time with her. Morgana's father had really sent for her, but Ruairc had volunteered to fetch her himself, if only to catch a glimpse of her, and reassure himself she was all right.

And yes, she was completely correct about his intentions. He had waited for months, years, and probably would have invented some excuse to come up from Dublin to see her, had it not been for her father's timely summons. But damn it, he couldn't just sit by idly and have her ruin both their lives by locking herself up in the convent forever over something they were both innocent of.

But to take her back to Lisleavan would be to expose Morgana to danger. For Ruairc he had neglected to tell Morgana what he and her father both knew with absolute certainty: Someone in the household was poisoning the old man.