by Madelyn Hill
“Weel, laird. ’Tis me leg. I canna be doing the crops like I used to.”
Hope nodded and made sympathetic sounds. ’Twas the truth of it. The poor man had hurt his leg hunting a few months back and hadn’t been the same since. With no children to speak of, he didn’t have a lad or lass to help either.
However, Finn MacAlister had more children then he kenned what to do with. “Finn, your Robert and Michael are strong lads. Could they help Crog with the crops?”
Finn pulled up, mulled over the question with a bit of a frown. He then nodded and a flash of a smile curved his mouth. “Aye, m‘laird. ’Tis a sound plan, to be sure.” He kept nodding his head. “’Twould be grand for the lads to learn from Crog.”
Crog came forward and reached for her hand. He gave a squeeze and said, “Thank you, laird.” Tears shone in his eyes and he made his way over to Finn and patted him on the shoulder.
Aye, how she loved when problems were easily solved.
More clansmen stepped forward. Some problems she solved. Others would take time. Especially when it came to bickering between a husband and wife. That process took a bit more diplomacy.
Her gaze kept traveling to the rear of the hall, looking for Aidan. She quickly chastised herself, then her gaze would betray her once again. Not once did he appear.
Several hours later, she was done and ready to head to the kitchens for evening meal preparations. Liam entered the hall, followed by Stephen. They quickly moved about the clan, talking and laughing. But she knew they were there to keep an eye on her, see if the clan was pleased with her decisions or not. ’Twas vexing, but not unexpected.
She shuddered and headed to the one person she’d get the truth—Duncan. Nora had been slippery and she kenned the woman had a soft spot for MacKerry. It was pointless pestering her further when she thought Duncan might be of better help.
Through the back stairwell, she made her way to Duncan’s crofter without running into clan members.
She knocked on the door of the small crofter. Duncan’s gruff voice bade her to enter. The crofter allowed a table, fire, and pot, with the bed hidden behind a curtain. It needed a woman’s touch, Hope thought, as she shoved a sword and tattered tartan out of the way.
“Duncan,” she started to say before her gaze met with MacKerry’s. Her pulse quickened and she covered her throat so he couldn’t see the rapid beat of her heart.
The man sat at Duncan’s table as if he did so every day. A tumbler of ale in his hand, a grim cast to his handsome features. When he furrowed his brow at her, she merely watched him. She banked the emotions hovering to spill over. Passion, anger, frustration. Hope shook her head as if to dispel any idea of emotion and MacKerry.
Yet, his presence in Duncan’s crofter conflicted her. At one moment she wanted to challenge him with her sword. The very next moment she wanted to kiss the hard line of his jaw and tangle her fingers in his long, dark hair.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” came her response to Aidan’s furrowed brow. She had to remain in control, not allow him to force her to anger.
“Och, Hope,” Duncan started before she pinned him with a lethal look.
“Don’t ‘Och, Hope’ me, Duncan. I’ve had enough of your interference.” She pulled out one of the chairs across from MacKerry. “Why is he here?”
Duncan sat and took a hearty swallow of ale. “He wants to know the council’s plans and their tie to the past.”
Hope felt the tension, thick and volatile. Aidan shifted in the chair as if he were uncomfortable with Hope’s presence, but she continued to watch him, trying her best not to allow any of her feelings to be revealed on her face. But damn those steely eyes. It was as if they saw everything, every twitch no matter how small. “Tell me all you know.” This she directed at Duncan and she saw a hint of interest in Aidan’s gaze.
“Weel, they have been planning this for a few years. They kenned Aidan was ready to claim lairdship. I heard Liam speaking to the others just this morn.” He placed his hand on hers. “If I’d known earlier, I would ha’ told ye, m’laird.”
She slammed her fist against the table. “Why?”
Duncan held up his hands. “Easy, lass.” He took another swig of ale. “Yer father was planning on peace with Clan Mungo. Even talk of the clans joining.” He shrugged. “Liam wanted to sweep them off the Highlands.”
She nodded. “Aye, I ken.”
She peeked at MacKerry. He was watching them intently, nearly as still as a statue, save the flexing of his fist. “Go on.” Hope was weary. Weary of the council. Weary of the clan. Weary of the uncertainly plaguing her.
Duncan ran a rough hand over his face and it scraped against the stubble upon his jaw. “Ye promise not to yell?”
An eerie calm swept over her as she braced herself for what her cousin was about to say. ’Twould be dire, no doubt. “I can’t promise.” She gripped the table and waited.
He glanced at MacKerry, then at her. “’Twas Liam who felled yer father.”
She gasped. It didn’t matter she suspected as much, to hear the truth told so baldly was horrendous. Hope swallowed back bile as she stood and paced the small home. She clutched her hands before her and wondered what to say when words wouldn’t form.
Grief, soul-consuming grief, filled her. Her knees buckled and MacKerry caught her before she met the floor. She snarled at him as he brought her back to the table and gently set her in the chair. Duncan gave her whiskey. She grimaced as the fiery liquid chased down her throat.
After a few moments, she broke the heavy silence. “I’m going to kill him.”
MacKerry remained stoic as he nodded. Duncan stood and blustered. “I wouldna’ have told ye if ye were going to kill ‘im.”
She covered her face with her hands. “How can I not? He killed my father, the laird of the clan. He has played us all as fools.”
Duncan patted her shoulder with his beefy hand. “We have no proof, m’laird. Just what I overheard.”
MacKerry swore under his breath. “Without proof the clan will not believe you.”
“They’ll believe me,” she countered. They had to. “And you have no say in this, MacKerry.”
He stilled, then said, “’Tis something else.” He paused and looked at her, then exhaled, “he’s dying.”
“Liam?” She slapped the table. “I want to be the one killing him. Do you ken? Not some sickness.” She was so angry it was as if her blood was on fire. Yet, what Aidan said would explain why she’d felt his bones when she’d led him to his chamber.
“He’ll be dead soon enough.” MacKerry said. “I helped him near the pond and the man’s wasting away. He’ll not live a fortnight.”
She glared at him. “Do you promise?”
He smirked and shook his head. “If only I could.”
Thoughts raced through her mind. So many years of grief and uncertainty. And now to find out needless deaths. “And the lad who was murdered?”
Duncan shrugged. “’Tis what I suspect as well and I think he was acting the spy. They want to go after Mungo again. They want the land.” He nodded toward MacKerry. “They ken they need a man as laird.”
She bristled. Men were out to see her doom. “Why? I believe in protecting us, protecting the clan.” She ignored Duncan’s intrusive gaze and spared a moment to look around the crofter trying to take a few minutes to sort out her feelings and rage. ’Twas difficult to breath with Aidan so near. God, she was confused. She hated him, loathed him . . . and then her heart beat as if it came alive with a mere glance at the man.
’Twould never do if he planned to have a family. Only a hearth for fixing meals and room for a wee table and a bed to fit Duncan’s grand height. An idea popped into her mind. “Why MacKerry and not you?”
“His father wasn’t selected by the council,
mine was.” MacKerry said with a grim expression. Eyes as sharp as knives pointed toward her. He shifted, his body now facing her, confronting her.
“But they did want you as laird,” she accused Duncan. “After my father, they wanted you.” Try as she might, ignoring MacKerry was an impossible feat. His presence seemed to overtake the crofter, the tense line of his shoulders were like insurmountable mountains. His scent—clean, masculine, alluring. He dragged her attention to him again and again.
“Aye,” Duncan replied with a raspy voice. He stood and refilled his and MacKerry’s tumblers.
He nodded toward her and she shook her head nay, worried drink would turn her stomach further. She rubbed her brow. Hope owed it to the clan, to her sisters, to her father’s legacy to fight for the lairdship, but she didn’t know how. Or who would listen. Firstly, she needed to determine the minds of the council if such a thing was possible with the blasted men. “Why, Duncan? Why you and not me?” She hated the whinny tone of her voice, loathed it.
A bit of a smile crooked up Aidan’s mouth as a gleam hit his eyes with a hard edge. “They thought he’d do their bidding.”
“He’s the right of it,” Duncan admitted while he aimed a finger at Aidan. “The council spoke to me, they wanted me to declare war on Mungo. But I refused.” He ruefully shook his head. “Bollocks, too many ha’ died the last time. We werena’ any better with men, young and auld, to fight them and win.”
War.
Hope scoffed. “I bet they continued to try.”
His gaze met hers and held. “Aye, they did. Offered me the moon, to be sure.”
Hope’s dry laughter held no mirth. “To be sure.” Duncan joined her laughter and MacKerry looked at them as if they’d lost their minds.
“Aye, MacKerry, the council has a way of offering what isn’t theirs with promise upon promise. My father and mother had done their best to break them of the nasty habit.” She tipped her head to the side. “You’ve been quiet, MacKerry. What say you?”
He pushed back from the table and refilled his tumbler once again. He leaned against the wall and crossed a long leg over the other. “The council has played you all for fools. They spy, plot, and wreak havoc.”
“’Tisn’t the entire council. I’m certain Liam has plotted with a few of his comrades and left the rest in the dark.” Or had her father’s men turned on her as well?
MacKerry shrugged. “Nevertheless.”
Hope glared at him and leaned back in her chair. “What would you do?” She didn’t know why she asked his opinion when she hated him. The words had slipped out before she could stop them.
He gave her a smile that ’twas too warm, too intimate. The way it flared in his eyes, steel to a soft grey and hint of blue, dazzled her more than she’d let him know. She swallowed, trying to calm her errant heart.
Did this man think he could come to Wild Thistle and take over? Och, of course he did. And she’d have to stop him and the council.
“I, my bride-to-be,” he said followed by a chuckle when she pulled a face, “would ensure Liam was no longer part of the council.”
Duncan roared with laughter, pounded the table, and tipped over his ale. “Och, MacKerry. Didna ken ye had a sense of wit about ye.”
Aidan stood, a seemingly causal action, but the tight ropes of his forearms and strain of his neck clearly indicated his feelings. His brawn filled the small house as if it would burst from his presence. “Have no doubt. Liam will be gone from the council. As I pledge.”
Hope loved to see his fury, anger. As he stood, proud and strong, power emanated from him like the beaming sun, filling the crofter and spilling into the bailey.
He was magnificent.
Her heart betrayed her as she knew beyond a doubt at that moment she loved him. Even with his betrayal, she loved him.
God help her.
Chapter 20
Aidan watched as Hope sat forward, a peculiar expression flitted across her face as her almond shaped eyes widened. Lust stirred through him as her gaze seemed to be one of adoration. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and drag her back to their chamber.
There, he’d devour her just like her eyes were devouring him now.
“Aidan, my mother kenned something about the council.” She turned to Duncan. “Was it about Liam killing my father?”
Duncan remained stoic for a few moments. “Yer right. And yer mother forced them to stop their plans. Said she’d tell all. She didn’t have proof just as we doona. But her threat carried weight with Liam.”
Aidan watched Hope digest the information. It seemed strange to him she lacked the knowledge, but perhaps she truly didn’t want to know. But he also thought about how few knew about him, his father and mother. The MacAlister clan buried their secrets deeply.
“Nora,” Hope declared.
They all knew the maid would have the information they needed for Liam to leave the council. A small smile tipped her mouth with a flash of triumph.
Hope rose from the table. “I’ll speak with Nora, mayhap she will keen if there is proof.” She tipped her head at him. “I’ll see you in our chamber.”
If they were going to rid the council of Liam, they had to work together. But first they had to discuss the secrets, come to some sort of agreement or compromise despite their different goals. Mayhap he’d be able to explain why he needed to fulfill the pledge he’d made.
Duncan, who had blessedly remained quiet in his observation, laughed and pounded the table. “She’ll see ye in our chamber. Och, MacKerry, ye have yer hands full with that one.”
Hope gazed up at him with the look of enlightenment cast upon her lovely face. Stark, primal need welled within him and roared through his veins.
He wanted to pull her across the table, push up her tartan, and take her.
A quick glance at Duncan stilled the impulse, just barely.
“We have much to discuss,” he told her, ignoring Duncan. She knew what he wanted as he witnessed the jump in her pulse at the base of her elegant neck. Her green eyes darkened. They shifted to nearly black as her gaze intensified and filled with desire.
When she licked her lips and the moistness of her tongue left them glistening like rich, ripe berries, he grabbed her hand and led her from the crofter.
“Och. Much to discuss, my arse,” Duncan called after them.
Aidan smirked and heard Hope’s soft chuckle. They moved through the bailey and into the keep as if they were the only two people in the world. Ignoring the calls of clansmen, up the stairs they went to the laird’s chamber.
“Out,” Aidan demanded of Hope’s sisters.
Faith stood and fisted her hands at her waist. “Nay, you blackguard.” Honor stood beside her and mimicked her sister’s stance.
Aidan smiled, pleased they appeared more supportive of Hope than when he first arrived. Regardless, he repeated, “Out.”
“’Tis fine, lasses,” Hope said as she hugged them and kissed Honor on the top of her head. “Go, we’ll talk later.”
Both headed toward the door, stopped and turned back toward Hope and Aidan. Doubt cast deep on their faces. Faith took a step toward them.
“’Tis fine,” Hope said with an exasperated tone. A slight chuckle eased from her. “Truly.”
Faith nodded, grabbed Honor’s hand and they left. Just before the door closed, Faith pointed a finger at Aidan. “I’m keeping an eye on you, MacKerry. You hurt my sister and you’ll deal with me.”
He chuckled and tipped his head. “I consider myself warned, lass.” He wrapped his arm around Hope and pulled her close to his side. The rightness of her body fit closely and settled him.
Hope moved so that her body crushed along the front of him. Her heat seeped into him, surging the fire already burning in his blood.
“Tel
l me why you came to Wild Thistle.”
He brushed a few strands of hair away from her brow. “Most of my life,” he started, “centered around my father and his quest to return to Wild Thistle.”
Her gaze searched his face as if she was looking for something. He prayed he said the right things.
“The council was going to install my father as laird well before your father was killed.”
Hope’s breath hitched and grief spiked in her eyes, the tight lines surrounding them. She nodded for him to continue.
“Every day my da would tell me the plan. How he’d be able to come back and claim the lairdship.” He sighed and rested his forehead against hers. “When he became ill, he started talking about me claiming the lairdship. And when he died, I received a letter. From Liam.”
“Aye, the one that is missing from your bag.”
She didn’t say a word, but he felt her retreat. Physically. Emotionally.
“Why did they banish you, not just your mother?”
Old frustrations assaulted him. How many times had he asked that very question? Hundreds? Thousands?
And his father had never answered. Nay, he chose to protect the memories Aidan had of his mother, no matter how much he’d pestered.
“I wish I knew. Mayhap they thought my father would seek revenge or force them to make him laird. Nora said my mother’s actions caused much upheaval.”
Hope frowned. “Nora has known all for so many years and never shared with me. Even after my mother died, she remained silent when this information would have helped me.”
He cupped her face with both of her hands. “Do not judge her harshly. She has lived with the treachery for a long time and . . . she loves you.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes, then flowed over onto her cheek. “Aye.” She moved her head and kissed his palm. “We’ve both been treated unfairly, Aidan. I ken this just as I ken why you kept your identity a secret from me.”