by Madelyn Hill
She tossed a scowl his way and headed out of the main hall.
Aidan marveled at the children and clanswomen who clustered around their laird, as they made their way to the bailey. A little ruffian ran forward and grabbed onto her arm. “Laird MacAlister, watch me toss me stone,” he begged as he jumped up and down.
“Aye, Tadge. I’ll watch ye and then I have to look for Faith.” Each word was said with a motherly kindness, which surprised Aidan. Her smile seemed to enthrall the lad, and Aidan as well.
They stopped and watch as the boy struggled with a large stone and catapulted it from shoulder height. A brave effort, Aidan had to admit. Tadge would be a fierce lad for sure.
Hope clapped and patted the boy on his tawny head. “What a braw man you’ll become. I’d want you to lead my men anytime.”
Redness stained Tadge’s cheeks with pride as he ducked his head.
“We best search for your sister.”
“I ken, MacKerry.” Hope continued toward the gate that led outside the palisade. “Men are already searching for her.”
He hid a grin at her agitation. In the days to come, he’d surely vex her more and more, as his plan unfolded with the help of the council.
“Did ye hear what the laird said?” he heard the lad brag, “she said I’ll be braw enough to lead her men.”
The appreciative comments from the other children brought a grin to his face. Aidan glanced at Hope to confirm she’d heard the admiration from the lad. A satisfied gleam in her eye indicated she had. But he also noticed strain around her mouth and eyes. Her injured arm lay against her side. He stepped toward a few women folding laundered clothing. He took one of the pieces of linen and with a tip of his head of thanks toward the befuddled woman, he folded it into a triangle.
He touched Hope’s elbow and steered her through the gate. “How is your shoulder?” Without waiting for her to answer, he took matters in his own hands. Aidan gently moved her arm and slipped the cloth beneath it. He felt her glare and her breath against his neck, the slight tremble of her hand. He secured it behind her neck. ‘Twould cradle the injury. He quickly glanced at her.
Anger flashed in her green gaze. Fiery rage.
“I can take care of myself.”
Aidan withheld a chuckle. He knew it would only incense her that she didn’t intimidate him. In fact, she proved a challenge. The idea of getting close to her, infiltrating the clan until he could make his claim, enticed him. Unfortunately, the more time he spent with her, he realized tricking Laird MacAlister wouldn’t be easy. She was intelligent and compassionate. The way she watched each person when they spoke, her attention fully on them, was endearing and honorable. And God help him, her beauty was unsurpassed. Fiery in spirit with a glint in her eye which shifted from humor to fury within a thrice. And when fire filled her gaze, he felt it to his cods.
“Thank you,” she mumbled without an ounce of genuine gratitude. In fact, it looked as if it pained her to say the words.
Aidan stopped watching her as he focused on the lay of the land to rid his mind of her image.
Outside the entrance of the keep, green and red tartans speckled the distance, obviously searchers. They needed to aid in the search. Mayhap if he helped find her sister, she’d trust him a bit more.
The morning was crisp with a bracing wind kicking up the foliage. Aidan surveyed the path toward the creek he remembered from his childhood. Although he had been young when he last lived in Wild Thistle, he kenned every nook and cranny, every path and little hideaways in the glen. In his gut, Aidan knew Faith would be ensconced in one of the caves hollowed out of the cragged hills. And when he’d mentioned it the day before, a few of the clansmen said they’d already looked in the caves.
He should have looked himself, damn it.
’Twasn’t easy exploring the caves as they were carved from the stony earth just below the keep. Steep paths led them along a sheer cliff. One misstep could mean death.
Hope walked toward a small group of men shouting and making angry gestures. They stilled as she approached. Aidan held back, curious to see her interaction with them, exhibit her leadership abilities.
She spoke, her harsh demanding tone gained their attention. He noticed a strain in her features and cursed himself for not insisting on horses. She was too soon out of the sick bed. Aidan stayed put and watched as Hope gave directions and the men dispersed. He admired how she led them. She’d strength, courage. And the men listened, they followed her.
“They will search the opposite side of the keep. The men will blow their horn if she is found.”
“This way,” he called. Not waiting for her compliance, Aidan walked toward the path he kenned would lead to Hope’s sister.
“And who are you, MacKerry?” she said as he walked away. “Ordering me about as if you were laird?”
Aidan chuckled, it echoed off of the woods and he knew Hope heard it. “In due time. In due time.” This he spoke softly, with steely determination. Finding the laird’s sister was a step in the right direction. A way to prove himself and show an allegiance to the clan by delivering her safely home. He turned toward Hope. Anger not only sparked in her eyes, they fairly glowed with animosity. Aye, she was fierce, a fierce leader. The moment they wed, the moment his lips touched hers, she’d be his. Aye, she’d surely appreciate his skills as a lover, then as her laird. Damn, he wanted to be laird, not have Hope MacAlister be his—truly, the woman would only complicate matters.
“I’m here to help, Hope. Do you want to be finding your sister?”
Hope glanced warily at him as he deepened his brogue. Intentional, of course.
“Aye, lead the way, MacKerry.” The way she said the words indicated she didn’t trust him. But it would come. He’d find her sister, then make his mark with the men on the training field. Step by step.
“I should have secured a horse. You’re too soon from the sick bed.”
Her brows furrowed and then she shook her head. “They would slow us. ’Tis craggy land near the caves.”
He nodded. Aidan made his way over the path and headed toward the nearest cave, all the while aware of Hope’s determined, but weakened strides behind him. He stopped to help her a time or two, but his only reward was a scowl. ’Twas a mite disconcerting. He hadn’t thought he’d have to tangle with a woman over the lairdship, but if need be, he would. Aidan counted on the endless hours hearing his father’s tirade against Clan MacAlister to spur him on. He tucked his head inside the cave entrance and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The cave was dank, dreary, and clearly uninhabited.
Lady Faith wasn’t there. Aidan continued on ahead to the next cave, assisting Hope along the rough terrain. He peeked into the cave. A smoldering fire lit the center of the cave and a tartan and tin cup sat beside it. They belonged to Lady Faith.
“She’s been here.”
Hope pushed him aside, surprising him with her strength. Her hackles were raised, and ego a wee bit tattered, he surmised. A deep furrow creased between her finely-arched brows and her fist nestled at her waist.
Aye, fire. The laird had fire.
“And where is she?” She glanced at the cave and then back at him. “How did you know the caves were here?”
Bollocks.
Aidan crossed his arms before his chest. “What kind of man do you think I am? I scouted the keep before I approached.”
Truth of it was, he’d approached and had been trounced by Duncan. Och, to go back a fortnight and start over. ‘Twould be different, to be sure.
She eyed him suspiciously; her thoughts of distrust clear in the green of her eyes. “Let’s continue searching,” Hope said with a low tone.
“Did you play in the caves as a lass, m’laird?”
She glanced at him in surprise, then chuckled. “Aye. Did you have cave
s such as these near your clan’s keep?”
He frowned, and when she glanced back at him, he nodded. A conversation was good. Talk about their youth, learn about each other. It would lead to the trust he needed. “Aye, ‘twas a secret place for me and the lads. We played in them, hid from the lasses and most importantly, I had my first dram of whiskey in a cave.”
“Ah, seems we have a wild lad on our hands.”
He chuckled. “Lads will be lads.”
She laughed along with him and despite the circumstances, he felt as if he’d learned something about her. She’d a sense of humor when she wasn’t trying to be the brooding laird. Aidan kenned he hadn’t revealed too much of himself. Any keep along the shore boasted caves. ’Twas a safe story to tell.
“My sisters and I would pretend we were searching for pirates in the caves. And we’d stumble onto their treasures.”
“What type of treasures were those, laird?” If he had her talk about herself, then she wouldn’t focus on him.
“Och,” she said with a smile. “Sweets, to be sure.” Laird MacAlister shook her head and seemed to be thinking of pleasurable memories. “My mother had hidden tarts and buns in the caves just for us to find them.”
“A smart mother, to be sure,” he said.
“She was lovely,” Hope said with a tinge of sadness. Her jaw clenched and tight lines fanned from her eyes. ’Twas then he remembered her mother had passed.
He moved to pat her shoulder, then thought better of it. She glanced at him then shook her head as if clearing her mind of thoughts of her mother.
She represented a strength he both loathed and found admirable. Her chin tipped imperiously and the golden flecks in her eyes brightened, making him think of a queen’s countenance. Then her gaze swiftly narrowed beneath his scrutiny.
She bristled as if realizing she was talking to her perceived enemy. “I’ve no need to learn about your youth, MacKerry. Kindly keep your memories to yourself.”
He’d irked her, it was obvious and lovely on her face.
“’Twas you who asked,” he countered.
“No matter.”
Aidan scoffed. “We’re to be wed. I’m certain we’ll have to talk at one point or another.”
She sighed and set her free hand at her waist. “We need to find my sister, not stand here havering.”
Sadness and worry flitted in her gaze. Heartache over her mother he assumed and mayhap a wayward sister. The grief seemed to consume her as they walked and he loathed to see a sad woman, even if it was Laird Hope MacAlister. If she started crying he’d certain flee, for nothing was worse than consoling a woman in tears. But he doubted she’d show such vulnerability to him.
She glanced toward the other caves and then back toward the keep. She gave a frustrated sigh. Her face soft with desperation to find her sister. She was worried and inside she was fretting. The worry softened her, made her vulnerable. Surely the troubles of the past fortnight had culminated into a vexing situation. And he knew only one way to take a woman’s mind off her troubles.
He stepped toward her and swept her in his arms. Her eyes widened as he descended, slowly so not to make her skittish, but with enough purpose she knew his desire. Her lips parted and her tongue darted out quickly to wet the plump surface. His mouth brushed against hers with a soft caress. She gripped his arms and pushed. He kissed her again. She stiffened, then her fingers dug into his biceps as her lips relented, accepted his kiss. As a moan escaped her lips, masculine triumph flared and he delved deeper. A sizzling leap of lust cursed through him. God, she felt good in his arms. Aidan ripped his mouth from hers and narrowed his gaze. His chest heaved. His blood sang. Through hooded eyes, he watched her and inhaled the womanly scent about her. Hope’s face was flushed, her eyes glazed. Aidan reached for her again.
With a flick of her wrist, a dirk appeared from its sheath and pressed against his ribs. “You touch me again, and you’re a dead man.”
Aye, all spit and fire, this woman. And she was going to be his. Aidan sobered for a moment and stepped back. His?
Nay, she was a means to the lairdship. ’Twas the way he must see her. In the same vein as his mother and Anne, all women who would forsake the heart of another to gain for themselves. His duty was to secure the lairdship and if that included a beautiful woman to warm his bed, so be it.
But she’d never warm his heart.
Raking his fingers through his hair, he bravely spoke when all he wanted to do was kiss her again, nearly as much as he wanted to rip the lairdship from her grasp. “Tell me about your sister,” his voice rasped. Aidan was still unnerved by his physical reaction during their embrace. And the ambush of feelings she’d awakened despite his determination not to feel any.
She glared at him. Hope tipped up her head, she answered, although he noted it was with a heavy reluctance. “Faith is impulsive. Always looking for adventure and never tending to her duties.”
Duties. The way she said the word, reverently, solemnly. “She’s just a lass.” They turned and headed out of the cave and up the narrow path.
“Och,” Hope said. “I’ve tended to my duties since I was but ten and two. And it was my privilege to do so.” They’d reached the grassy land near the palisade.
He nodded, he couldn’t fault her for her convictions. They were honorable. But a nagging feeling deep in the pit of his stomach told him there was more to Hope’s stalwart convictions to be laird. Much, much, more.
“Faith and Honor know nothing of what I’ve sacrificed in order to lead this clan. My mother babied them, tried to protect them from—”
She stopped speaking and gazed into the copse of trees behind him. He turned, although his eyes wanted to linger on her beauty, the flicker in her green gaze, and the shimmer of the sun that lit on her hair.
“Faith Mara MacAlister, come out of those trees.”
Aidan watched as the young girl emerged from the forest. Sulky, apprehensive. A crown of golden hair curled around an angelic face. Brambles stuck out of her tresses and scratches marred her tan skin. Aye, she was young, and most definitely Hope’s sister. Her lily-green gaze inspected him with interest. The same green eyes with which Hope glared at him with. Faith’s were less fiery than Hope’s. But they screamed MacAlister.
Hope strode past him, fury tightening her jaw. He didn’t envy Faith to have such an irate laird, ready to chastise her within an inch of her wee life.
“Och, Hope, don’t be vexed. I just wanted to venture out of the keep and hunt.”
Hope stopped a breath away, and pointed her finger at her sister’s chest. “Wanted to venture out? Don’t be vexed?” Hope’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Where’s your mind, lass? You could have been killed, or worse, there are many a man out here ready to ravage you.”
Faith threw her hands up in the air, her skin flushed. “Would you listen to yourself? You think because you live your life so seriously the rest of us should do the same.” This time her younger sister began jabbing a finger in Hope’s chest. “I’ll not be wasting my life working my fingers to the bone. You’re the laird, you should be enjoying yourself a wee bit.”
Hope rubbed her brow. Aidan watched as resignation eased much of the anger from her features. He hated to see the slump of her shoulders. Aye, she was a proud one, but he sensed a weariness about her as well.
“Hmmm, you’ve nothing to say, do you?”
A quick transformation had her hackles raised once again. “I’ve plenty to say, you wee lass. You are to return to the keep. Now.”
Her sister crossed her arms in front of her chest, obviously settling in for a long fight. “I’ll not have you ordering me about, you ken?”
He’d had enough. Women. Did they always need to stir the pot of trouble so it spilled over the sides causing a mucky mess? “Cease yer havering.”
&nbs
p; Both turned toward him, mouths gaping and eyes narrowed. He fought a grin. “’Twill settle nothing to be arguing a losing fight. She’s your laird as well as your elder.”
They each scoffed.
“Mind your own business, MacKerry.”
Aidan rolled his eyes heavenward praying for strength. He dragged his fingers through his hair. What did they expect of him, worse yet, why did he care? Hope’s seething anger vibrated around him. Aye, he knew she loathed his interference. But she’d have to get used to the idea of him and the role he planned to take within the clan.
Faith stood still, patiently waiting for him to speak. ’Twas another trait her sister obviously failed to inherit.
A flash of irritation gleamed in Hope’s eyes as she turned toward her sister. With an impatient wave of her hand, she said, “I’ve no mind to listen to him.”
She stomped away, her untethered hair flowing behind her in the lapping wind. Thick whips of dark auburn swirled and tangled. Aidan curled his fingers into a fist to stem the urge to reach for her and feel the softness of her mane, absorb her fury with a kiss.
Damn his attraction to this temperamental beauty. He looked forward to the taming of her. Aidan knew it wouldn’t be easy and he savored the thought of the attempt.
He shook his head, bollocks, he was a bloody fool. She’d never be tamed. A potent shot of lust inflamed him as he watched her retreat. She never looked back, but the sway of her hips enthralled him. Unabashed, he was a man after all, he watched until she was no longer visible.
“She’s forever giving orders, that one.”
He’d forgotten Lady Faith was standing beside him. Chagrined, he refocused on her. Question and amusement lifted her brow and a smile teetered on her mouth. She was comely, but Lady Faith lacked the fire, hot and searing, that his future wife possessed, owned, and brandished freely.