Morna's Legacy: Box Set #1

by Bethany Claire

  The touch of his fingers as he laced his own with mine caused me to cautiously glance toward him out of the corner of my eye. He held my hand gently, drawing small circles along the base of my thumb with his, but he didn’t look in my direction as he kept his gaze straight ahead, seemingly distracted by the water down below.

  I closed my eyes briefly and inhaled the cold wet air, savoring the sensation of his rough fingers against my hand. A loud boom of thunder brought large drops of water, soaking us both in seconds.

  I cringed inwardly as the rain hit my hair. I was having enough trouble keeping my mane tamed without the use of a straightener.

  Eoin swung off the ledge, extending both hands out to me. “Come, lass. Ye will catch a cold, standing out in this rain. Let’s go inside.”

  He stood back, allowing me to crawl through the window-space first. As I stood in the dark stairwell once more, I brushed the wet strands of hair out of my face, swinging drops of water in every direction.

  I knew Eoin had made his way back into the stairwell, but the candle in our lantern had burned out while we’d been out on the ledge. Once he closed the hatch that covered the window, the stairwell descended into pitch darkness.

  “Doona worry, lass. I know my way down these stairs well. We will make our way down them together, aye?”

  Blindly I reached forward, palming the air, expecting to make contact with his hand. Instead, my palm rested on his chest as he stepped closer. Slowly, he backed me into the wall and my breathing accelerated as the evening whiskers from his cheek scratched against the side of my face.

  His hands moved so that he held onto both of mine as he gently placed his lips against my own.

  It was surprisingly gentle and sweet, and it was over far too quickly as he moved his lips right next to my ear and whispered, “Ach, lass, if tis alright with ye, I doona think I can stay angry at ye any longer.”

  And with that, he turned and led me down the dark stairwell, the heavy thumping of my heart beating in my ears.

  Chapter 17

  Eoin stroked the mare’s mane as he worked to prepare her for their ride into the village. His own horse sat ready, tied at the end of the stables, glancing impatiently in Eoin’s direction.

  Eoin smiled at the old, gray stallion, his trusted horse and companion since childhood. “Ah, Griffin, doona look at me so. We will be leaving soon enough. But ye see, Sheila will be joining us today. Blaire will be riding her, and I expect ye to be on yer very best behavior. Do ye understand?”

  The old horse neighed as Eoin walked toward him, offering him an apple to placate him until they rode out for the village.

  Footsteps from behind caused Eoin to spin around toward the west entrance of the stables. Expecting to see Blaire, he couldn’t repress the look of disappointment on his face at seeing Kip make his way over to Sheila.

  “Looks like ye did a fine job with Sheila. Her coat hasna shined so brightly in years. But I still doona understand why ye won’t let Blaire ride Angus. She’s good with horses; she will think that Sheila is too tame.” The old man shook his head as he loosened Sheila’s reins and went to tie her up by Griffin.

  “Angus is only fit for racing through the countryside, not a trip to the village, and ye know it, Kip. Now, I know Blaire dinna treat ye well her first night here, but I wish ye’d ease up on the lass.”

  “I’ll no be having ye tell me what I should do, laddie, laird of this keep, or no. But it doesna matter, my thoughts on her. She’s yer wife. Ye are the one that has to bed the ungrateful…” He was cut off by a cheery ‘hello’ at the end of the stables.

  Eoin turned to see Blaire making her way toward him. She looked beautiful with her bright eyes and smile and her hair pulled up in a delicate knot at the base of her neck.

  He watched as she bid Kip a good morning and was rewarded with a huff as he retreated from the stables.

  “Doona let him bother ye, lass. He’s only hard on the outside.”

  “Oh, it’s alright. Where are ye taking me?” She reached up and touched his shoulder, and he had to restrain himself from pulling her against him.

  “To the village. There’s just a few things that need attending.” He walked over to where both horses were tied and gestured toward Sheila with his head. “Ye can take the brown one. Her name’s Sheila. Ye will have no problems with her, I’m sure.”

  Blaire cautiously approached the mare, hesitantly reaching out her hand to touch the horse’s throat. Eoin watched, curious as to why she seemed so unsure. He’d always known her to be a fine rider.

  “What’s wrong, lass? She’s got more fire in her than she looks. She’ll be a fine ride for ye.”

  “How do I get on her?”

  The question surprised him, but he ignored it as he bent to offer her his assistance in mounting the horse. No sooner had Blaire situated herself on the mare than the mare started whining and trying to pull at the reigns that kept her fastened to the edge of the stables.

  “What do I do with her, Eoin?”

  “Just stroke her, lean forward and whisper in her ear, calm her as ye would yer own horse.” He turned and climbed onto Griffin, leaning forward to untie the reins of both horses so that they could set off toward the village.

  He rode ahead a short distance, waiting for Blaire and the mare to join him, but when he heard no hooves he turned to see Blaire and the mare sitting at the side of the stables where he’d left them.

  Clicking, he steered Griffin back toward the stables. “What’s the matter with ye, lass? Do ye no longer want to go?”

  “No, I do want to. I just don’t know how to do this.”

  Eoin frowned as he pulled back on Griffin’s reins, stopping him next to Sheila. He knew Blaire could ride. He’d seen her do it many times, with many different horses. Why was she feigning ignorance now? Perhaps, she was afraid that he’d be angry with her for not wanting to accompany him. Or mayhap she wanted a reason to ride with him on the same horse.

  While he wasn’t sure of the reason, he enjoyed the second possibility much more. “Would ye like to ride with me, lass? Griffin may be old, but he can carry ye and me together, easily.”

  “Aye, I think that would be best.”

  Ah, so she did want to ride next to him. He smiled inwardly at himself, pleased at the notion, as he lifted her from Sheila’s back and placed her snugly in between his legs astride Griffin.

  * * *

  I rode with my rear pressed firmly against him as we made our way down into the village. That had almost been an unimaginable disaster. I’d never ridden a horse in my life, and I had no idea what I’d been thinking when Eoin asked if I would like to go with him and to meet him in the stables.

  I’d ignorantly pictured some fancy horse-drawn coach taking us into town, like a scene out of Pride and Prejudice; I was obviously not taking into account that things of that nature were from an entirely different century that was yet to come.

  Still, I much preferred this method of transportation over any sort of pulled wagon, and I relished the feeling of his chiseled muscles pressing against my back. He rode with his hands around my waist, and the strength in his legs and arms as they surrounded me made me hope it was hours until we reached the village.

  Instead, it took us less than an hour before Eoin stopped the horse and dismounted, quickly reaching his arms toward me to help me off of the horse. He smiled at me as I reached behind to rub my sore bottom. He gestured for me to follow him as he made his way to a small cluster of cottages in front of us.

  Eoin turned his head to tell me something, but he was interrupted by a loud voice coming from one of the doorways.

  “Well, if it isn’t Laird Conall! Why, it’s been too long since we have seen ye here, son!”

  Eoin’s face lit up as he moved away from me and embraced the large, red-faced man. “Aye, it has, Bran! How’s yer wife and children?”

  “Fine. Fine. Dona is in bed, nursing our sixth bairn. She gave birth only two nights ago.” The man’s eyes
gleamed with pride as he spoke of his family.

  “Six, my God, man! Do ye no ever let the lass rest? How have ye been managing the others on ye own, the last few days?”

  “I havena.” The man let out a loud, deep chuckle before continuing. “They’ve had free run o’ the place while their mother has been in bed. I’m sure she’ll be no too pleased with me once she’s up. Come inside. Let us have a drink for old time’s sake, aye?”

  Eoin reached his hand behind him, and I instinctively took hold.

  “Let me introduce ye to my wife, Bran. This is Blaire.”

  I smiled as the man quickly looked me up and down. “How did this old sot get such a beautiful lass like ye to marry him? Oh, never mind. What’s done is done, aye? I shouldna try to talk ye out of it now. Come. Ye shall have a drink with us as well.”

  I followed the two men through the small entranceway into a one-roomed first floor where all five children, minus the newborn, were running around, creating chaos. All children were under the age of seven, and a few days without strict structure from their mother had put them in a tailspin.

  I knew that the noise level in the home could in no way be conducive to their mother’s rest, and my teacher drive immediately kicked in.

  “Alright, stop where ye are!” And I quickly held my hands up as I stared them down. “My name is Blaire, and ye are all going to follow me outside so that we can allow yer mother some rest time. Aye?”

  I watched as the three oldest children glanced up to take in the shocked look on their father’s face. When he stood silently, they looked up at me and seemed to consent, slowly marching out the front door together. I yanked up the two youngest—year-and-a-half-old twin boys—and placed one on each hip.

  I turned to address the two men before following the children outside. “Go ahead and enjoy a drink. I’ll keep the children busy so that the two of ye can visit and yer wife can rest with the baby.”

  Leaving them both open-mouthed, I made my way outside with the two squirming toddlers.

  Chapter 18

  Scotland

  1645

  Kinnaird Castle

  “The fire served no purpose! The lad is too foolish to see when he’s been warned and to be afraid. He thinks the fire happened by chance, set by a drunkard at the wedding.” Ramsay Kinnaird sat at the end of a long table, staring down the two servants unfortunate enough to be called to his service.

  “What will ye do, sire? Attack them at once?”

  The servant’s words were rewarded with a large bang as Ramsay threw his fist down on the table hard. “No, ye fool! To attack by surprise would be too easy! I want Eoin and his brother Arran to sense the darkness coming for them. I want them to feel afraid for their home and their loved ones and know that there is nothing they can do to stop them from losing everything.” He stood from the table and walked toward the servants until his own face was but inches from theirs. “The first attack was too simple. We must take something that is precious to them.”

  “What would be best? Would ye like us to slaughter their sheep?”

  Ramsay contemplated the servant’s suggestion. A wicked grin contorted his face as his next plan came into full view in his mind. “No, the Conalls have no real connection to their sheep, but they’ve always loved their horses. Conall Castle is known for them, all cared for by that pathetic stable master. The loss of horses will hurt them. Send the two lads that work the stables out tomorrow midday. Take their mother, should they need motivation. Tell them to take the head of every last horse, and leave behind the pieces to be found.”

  * * *

  “No, Arran. I’m telling ye the truth. I dinna ask her to take the children out of the house. She offered to do it all on her own. I was surprised as well, and ye should’ve seen Bran’s face.”

  Arran ran his hands through his hair as he paced back and forth in front of his brother. He’d spent days trying to make some sense of Blaire’s strange behavior, and the only thing he could come up with was that this lass wasn’t actually Blaire. That conclusion made no sense to him at all.

  “It just doesna make sense, Eoin. Blaire hates children. If ye left her alone in a room with them, she’d be more likely to eat them than offer to care for them.”

  “Aye, I know the Blaire we knew as children was that way, but perhaps she’s changed.”

  “She hasna. Because the lass ye have married isn’t Blaire.” Arran could sense Eoin’s temper flaring as he finished his sentence, and he marched over in front of his brother to stop him from pacing back and forth.

  “What the hell are ye talking about, Arran? Ye are making no goddamned sense, and ye havena been for some time. I know that ye are still grieving for our father, but ye have to stop drinking so much. It’s beginning to addle yer thoughts.”

  “I’ve no been drinking today, Eoin. I know what I’m saying sounds foolish, and I canna make sense of it myself, but this lass is no Blaire.”

  “Just because she spent part of a day around children doesna mean a stranger has replaced Blaire. God, listen to what ye are saying, Arran. Ye’ve gone and lost yer mind.”

  “I havena. Kip also told me that ye dinna even end up taking Sheila to the village, because Blaire could no ride her. Ye know Blaire can ride well, Eoin.”

  “Aye, we left her at the stables, but only because she wanted to share a horse with me.”

  Arran rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall behind him. “Did she tell ye that?”

  “No, but ye are no the only one who can sense what a lass wants, Arran. Doona mention this conversation to me again, aye? I’m worried for ye, brother. Perhaps ye need to go away for a few days. I believe Kip is about to make another trip to bring back another horse or two for the stables. Go with him, and doona drink while ye are gone.”

  “Aye, I’ll go. I canna stand to be around ye when ye refuse to see what’s right in front of ye. All I ask is that ye watch her. She doesna talk like Blaire either. If ye’d only pull yer head out of yer arse! Test her. Take her to do something ye know Blaire was good at as a child, and see if she succeeds.”

  With that he turned and left, leaving Eoin to think about all that he’d said.

  Chapter 19

  I was going to throw up. There was no doubt about it whatsoever. I was about to be expected to string, or whatever the crap you do, a bow and arrow and shoot the damn thing right in the middle of the target.

  When Eoin knocked on my door this morning shortly after breakfast, I’d been excited. It was unusual for me to see him after breakfast, and with progress moving so slowly in the spell room, I was happy for any excuse to keep me from my work. That is, until he asked me to go shooting with him and proceeded to tell me over and over how wonderful I’d been at it as a child, and how he and Arran never wanted go shooting with me because they knew I would beat them ruthlessly.

  The gig was definitely up. The shit had certainly hit the fan. And by tonight, I was absolutely positive I would be locked away again where I’d been a few weeks ago.

  It’s not that I was in bad shape. I did try to drag myself to the gym, one, sometimes two whole times a week. But jogging a mile had nothing to do with maneuvering this huge wooden contraption in such a way that it would send an arrow soaring through the air. I seriously doubted I could even pick the thing up off of the ground.

  “Well, that was a fairly good shot, but I have no doubt ye can beat it.”

  He flashed one of those smiles that made my muscles feel weak—exactly what I didn’t need at the moment—as he stepped out of the way to let me take my place in front of the target. “Here ye go, Blaire.”

  I gripped the bow unsurely, sighing with relief when I found it wasn’t as heavy as I’d first expected. My hands shook as I fumbled with the arrow, trying my best to mimic Eoin’s movements exactly.

  Pulling back, I released the arrow high into the air. Two seconds later, it unceremoniously landed three feet in front of me. I shut my eyes in defeat, only to he
ar Eoin’s laughter from behind me.

  “Ach, lass. Has it been a long while then since ye went shooting?” He came up behind me and gave my shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps my memories are wrong about how good ye used to be at this.”

  “I suppose they probably were. Best if I just watch ye shoot.” I tried to back away, but his hands on my shoulders held me in place.

  “Nay, lass, I wasna wrong. It’s just nerves is all. Give it another go, aye?”

  Reluctantly and, with the most unpleasant look on my face that I could manage, I reached for another arrow and went about shooting it off once more.

  It hit the target right in the middle.

  “What? Yes! No freakin way!” I jumped, tossing the bow to the side as I shot my hands up in the air, realizing too late that I’d let my language slip and that I must have looked like a buffoon as I leapt gleefully up in the air.

  Eoin cocked his head and looked at me with a confused expression. “What did ye just say lass? ‘Freakin’?”

  I fumbled for an explanation. “No, I just made a noise, a happy noise for hitting the target. I’m surprised is all.”

  “Why would ye be surprised, lass? Ye have always been good at this. Here, let’s take turns shooting a few more. Aye?”

  * * *

  They continued to take turns shooting arrows until all that they’d brought stuck out of the target. After the first one, Blaire had hit every single one right in the center.

  Eoin had expected her to excel. That’s why he’d asked her to go shooting, so that he could prove Arran’s ridiculous theory wrong. But why did he feel so surprised?

  He knew all that Arran had suggested was impossible, but just to humor him, shouldn’t he test her in some other way as well? A fair number of lasses in the Highlands could shoot a bow and arrow decently, and he knew there were always a few people who could succeed at anything at their first try. Perhaps Blaire was one of those naturally gifted people?