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knew exactly what she’d let the MacAlister do. He stepped beside her and leaned against the wood planks that penned the horses.
    “Does your gift na tell you anything?”
    “Nay. My gift fails me where the MacAlister is concerned. I feel na warning. I feel na danger. I only feel a burning I have never felt before. It is the burning my mother warned me of, isn’t it?”
    “Ah, lass.”
    Màiri worried her lower lip and raised her gaze to the full moon in the sky. “Why does my gift tell me nothing where he is concerned, Kenneth? It has never been like this before. The warnings for others come without my bidding. Now, I feel nothing except a strange confusion when he is near.”
    “What will you do, lass?”
    “We will leave for the convent in two days, then you can take the MacAlister home to MacAlister Castle. I can stay here with him na longer. In time what we shared will na matter.”
    “Are you sure you want to stay in the convent?”
    Màiri fought the panic in her breast. “Aye, Kenneth. Now more than ever.”
    Kenneth stood beside her in the moonlight a while longer, then turned to go back to the cottage.
    “Kenneth? Do you think my father has given up his search for me?” she asked hopefully.
    “Perhaps.”
    She hugged her arms around her middle. Even though his answer held promise, her gift saw it for the lie it was. Her father would never give up his search to find her.
    Kenneth walked away, leaving her to stare up into the moonlit sky, remembering the tale of the fairy gathering moon dust. Her eyes misted as she thought of all the lonely nights she’d stared into the sky waiting for the fairy to sprinkle her with magic. All the nights she’d waited for the fairy to come to answer her wish.
    Her wish hadn’t come true then as it would not now. She would never be like others. Her gift would always make her different. If she let herself feel anything for the Scot, the time would come when he would hate her as her father had hated her mother. As her father still hated her.
    Màiri stared at the moon as tears swam in her eyes. She had only a few more days to keep away from the Scot and make sure he did not hold her again.
    She had a lifetime to try to forget his kisses. It would take that and more.
    . . .
    Màiri wrapped the food she’d prepared into bundles, then placed each package into the two woven baskets that would be tied to either side of the small mare along with the few supplies they would take with them. They would leave in the morning.
    The preparations were almost complete. All that was left was to eat the cold meal she had left out for tonight and go to bed early so they could start out fresh and well rested. Màiri stepped away from the low table where she’d wrapped her last bundle and rubbed her neck and shoulders. By the saints she was tired. Maybe tonight she would be so exhausted she would fall asleep without thinking of how the Scot had held her in his arms and kissed her.
    Perhaps tonight she would be able to close her eyes without seeing his face in her dreams.
    She lifted her gaze to watch Kenneth check the horses a final time. The MacAlister Scot stood in the pen beside him, rubbing a soft cloth down the flanks of the two mammoth steeds Kenneth had found the day after the MacAlister had been attacked. He gave the same attention to her small mare and Kenneth’s speckled roan.
    For the second time since she’d been watching, the MacAlister leaned his forehead against Kenneth’s horse and clung to the mane as if he needed help to stay on his feet. She’d already made up her mind to avoid him, or she would have gone to his side and made him sit down until he felt better, although she doubted her presence would be appreciated. Since the night they’d shared their kiss, his attitude toward her had been just as distant. He would no doubt choose to suffer in silence rather than ask her for anything. She would have to remember to make him a potion laced with the feverfew and take