Highland Dragon

by Kimberly Killion

  “Then ye refuse?” She shot him a contrived glare to reflect her stubbornness. Calin stroked his beard, contemplating briefly. “I’ll not do it. I refuse.”

  Akira pushed him away then stepped out of the blankets of their pallet. “Then I refuse to ride with ye, too. I’ll not subject myself to another day suffocating on your repugnant odor. Nor will I have my skin crawling with your lice. Nor will I allow ye to chaff my face.” Stomping away in mock rebellion, Akira went to the brook for her morning ablutions. Pleased as a sheared sheep in the summer months, she brought her hand to her mouth to cover her giggle then quickly asked God for forgiveness for the ruse. Granted, it was a wicked thing to do, but today she would seek answers from Kendrick.

  Calin sat up and scowled. The little vixen was playing him like a fife. He agreed to every one of her requests the night before and, still, she wasn’t satisfied. This had to stop. He couldn’t have her thinking he would dance every time she opened her mouth or flashed those big blue eyes his way.

  He tossed a murderous glance at Kendrick, who obviously overheard the entire quarrel as he grinned like a day-old groom. At least he was safe from the badgering of his men. His dear cousin, Jaime, would thoroughly enjoy this if he wasn’t still snug inside his plaid.

  “Och, the lass is a shrew. Did ye raise her with extra spit and fire just to spite me or did she come that way?”

  Two bushy eyebrows rose and curved Kendrick’s eyes into half moons. “Akira’s been spittin’ flames since ye laid the squallin’ dragon in me arms. Ye’ve verra much to learn about her. Other women—as I’m sure—may have fallen over themselves tryin’ to gain your attentions. Akira will not. I fear ye may labor hours on end to have her melt in your hand.” Kendrick burst with laughter. “I’ve a straightedge in me saddlebag, if ye’ve need of it.”

  Calin gaped at the witless man as if horns suddenly sprouted from his head. “Are ye wowf? Think ye I am actually going to concede to this? I will be the laughingstock of my clan. Why would she make such a request o’ me?”

  “I suspect the lass is testing your loyalty.”

  “I am loyal,” Calin responded sharply.

  “Ye are loyal to Clan MacLeod and the alliance. Mayhap Akira wishes to test your loyalty to her.”

  Admittedly, this decision might be less taxing if Kendrick wasn’t so obviously enjoying Calin’s quandary. His auld friend was starting to grate on his nerves.

  “If ye dinnae wish to shave for Akira then do it for your clan. Do it for the alliance. By making such a bold sacrifice, you are ensuring her acceptance of your union. And ye will flatter her in the process.”

  Calin guffawed at Kendrick’s back-minded persuasion. “And how do I benefit?”

  Kendrick’s grin turned into a toothy smile. “Ye get to ride with the lass and protect your secrets.”

  A deep throaty growl vibrated out of Calin’s throat. “Damnation! I’m the chieftain of Clan MacLeod. Why in the name of Saint Margaret am I contemplating this?”

  Pushing himself to his feet, Kendrick left Calin with a final thought. “Think o’ it as a means to subside some o’ the guilt ye must feel for branding her.”

  Calin pushed air through his nose like an old bull.

  A brilliant sun broke over the ridge, cutting through a hazy mist as the men waited atop their steeds. Sirius pranced impatiently among a patch of wildflowers while Akira sat pillion behind Kendrick, her nerves as fragile as an autumn leaf. Because Calin’s men hovered over them, she restrained herself from asking her brother any direct questions involving her union to Calin. She didn’t know how much these men knew or even if they could be trusted. Feeling comfortable and safe again, she leaned into Kendrick and took a deep breath in an effort to ease her tension. She quickly recoiled. Not even the wildflowers beneath their horse’s hooves could lessen what this journey had done for Kendrick’s pungent odor. “Ye might consider a bath yourself, dear brother. With soap.”

  “Think ye this is funny? I cannae begin to understand why ye made such a ridiculous demand o’ him. The mon has been verra good to ye. To our entire family. Laird MacLeod is chieftain o’ the clan ye are marryin’ into on the morrow, and ye make a fool o’ him in front of his warriors. A mon has his pride ye know.”

  “But I just—”

  Kendrick jerked a flat palm into the air and shook his head. “Quiet lass.”

  Akira held her tongue, but wasn’t the least bit concerned about making a fool of him. Of course, Calin wouldn’t shave. She glanced at the other MacLeods. Their expressions filled with accusations, but not a single man voiced his opinion. As the seconds passed painfully slow, she regretted her actions. She had goaded Calin to speak with Kendrick alone. Made a request the chieftain would, nary a doubt, not fulfill. She didn’t really expect him to shave, but he’d been at the brook far longer than any of the others. It was madness to believe he would fulfill her request just to kiss her. Did the man lack control of his lusts so much he couldn’t wait another day until they wed? Was it possible he might actually be attracted to her?

  Akira shook her head, dismissing her foolish thoughts.

  Calin emerged over the knoll, bare-chested, clasping his léine shirt between rigid fingers. The tails of his plaid swayed from his waist while the sun glistened off damp bronze skin dusted with golden hairs. His arms were as thick as her thighs and proudly displayed the rings of battle many warriors inked into their skin. The top blue ring, being thicker and more prominent than the other three, bespoke of a warrior’s loss in battle. Dark eyes met his men’s curiosity. He cringed. Akira followed his line of sight and found his men gawking at him open-mouthed. Gordon was the first to find words. “Who are ye, and what’ve ye done with our laird?”

  Calin stabbed him with another piercing look. “Did I give ye permission to speak?” He sidestepped to Kendrick’s mount, grabbed Akira around the waist, and then jerked her to the ground. “Ye ride with me,” he demanded, more than a little perturbed. Turning to his men, he ordered, “Ye will ride ahead. We’ll meet ye at the Minch. The vessel should be waiting to ferry us across. Gordon, handle the funds with the captain.”

  There was no movement—not man, nor beast. They were still gaping with slack jaws at him as if he were a bogie that slithered up from the underworld. “Ye’ll do as ordered. Now begone!”

  Calin smacked the flanks of Gordon’s horse sending it racing. The others followed suit. His harsh tone and abrupt actions startled her, but she knew he was holding onto what pride he hadn’t just sheared off and left in the brook. True, Calin wasn’t the man she had envisioned for her husband, but he proved capable of changing that image. She tried to hide her joy, all the while, ogling the handsome creature standing in front of her. Strength lined his face from strong cheekbones to a distinguished nose. The golden color of his eyes, though lit with anger, sparkled beneath dark lashes, and his rousing woody aroma stimulated her senses. But most of all—what tickled her innards and curled her lips—was his smooth jaw. She wouldn’t be riding with Kendrick, but she was nonetheless pleased.

  He pulled her possessively to his chest and raised her hand to his cheek as if awaiting her inspection. She didn’t deny him. He did this for her, and she intended to reward him with her approval. Her fingertips touched his freshly shaven cheek. “’Tis better,” she murmured.

  “I should hope this pleases ye,” he responded gruffly.

  “It pleases me verra much. Verra, verra much.” She played over the slight cleft in his chin and along his strong jaw.

  “Then I would have my kiss now,” he demanded and made himself ready for her by bending down. Akira considered pecking him on the cheek just to be obstinate, but she secretly wanted to taste what he offered. Standing on tiptoes, she threaded her fingers into his darkened hair, flowing loosely in wet clumps over his brawny shoulders. Drawing him close, she skimmed a feather-light kiss over the ridges of perfectly chiseled lips before nuzzling her cheek against his jawline.

  Settling back on her heels, Akira wave
red beneath his smile. His grin creased his face with three dimples. Two set in his cheeks and one that winked at her from the corner of his eye. The longer she stared at him the deeper the crevices became until he flashed white teeth. Akira clutched her chest and inhaled deeply. He was certainly easy to look at. Calin growled, ripped his léine shirt on, and rushed past her. “Ye are becoming difficult to woo.” He mounted and hauled her up in front of him. He whisked her raven locks aside and took a moment to dine on her neck. “I’ll not always do everything ye ask of me.”

  “I know.” Akira warmed with amusement at the victory she won. Having only known him a day, she was elated with his willingness to please her. She resolved to be content with their arrangement, regardless of why he chose her. For her own safeguard, she would accept the fact he chose her because she was smart enough to manage the keep. As long as she kept her wits, she’d have a bounty of bairns to love her and a bonnie fine man to wake to every morn. She would make him a good wife.

  “If ye dinnae wipe that smirk off your face, I may decide to take liberties that dinnae belong to me, even if ye refuse me,”

  he threatened while his hand inched up her thigh beneath her skirt.

  “Ye will not!” Her smirk faded and defiance took its place.

  Calin removed his hand and conceded. “I know.”

  He dug his heels into the underside of his steed, and they broke into a sprint over the green marsh of the moorland.

  The passage across the aqua-blue waters of the Minch took the better part of the morning. Otters, seals, and a variety of sea life entertained Akira while Kendrick, Calin, and his men quietly discussed a topic that caused them all to scowl. Akira’s attempts to eavesdrop were not successful, though she caught a snippet about the lordship of the Isles before they blatantly changed the subject. She didn’t know why they would be discussing the age-old battle. That title had been forfeited to the crown years ago and enough Scots had died fighting to regain possession of it, including Papa. She suspected their deliberations also involved her pending marriage to Calin, but couldn’t surmise why that topic would make them frown so. Unless the MacLeod kinsmen disapproved of his choice. She felt certain at least one of them didn’t like her. Gordon was scowling at her now. She scowled back.

  Mayhap he thought she was a witch like the two MacLeods who’d taken her to Tigh Diabhail? She rather hoped to enter her new clan without those accusations looming over her.

  Regardless of Gordon’s opinion, she was determined to earn the approval of Calin’s kin with her quick wit—a task which could prove difficult since they refused to converse with her.

  The MacLeod men harassed Calin mercilessly about his abrupt decision to separate himself from his facial hair. Calin only grinned, ignoring their banter, all the while casting her devilish winks to let her know he was man enough to withstand their ridicule.

  Upon reaching the steep cliffs of the Isles, they traveled across valleys blanketed with purple heather. Only when crossing the shallow lochs did they slow their pace. He purposely fell behind during these leisure periods to take full advantage of the stipulations Akira agreed to—kissing her any time he felt the need. And over the course of several hours, he felt the need on more than one occasion. If he wasn’t kissing her, he was grazing her neck with his new smooth face and sneaking tiny bites of her earlobes between his teeth.

  Every time he pressed his lips to hers, a wave of excitement flowed through her. The man seemed genuinely attracted to her. The stiffness of his manhood pressing against her backside the whole of the day was enough to prove that point, and she had difficulty denying his magnetism. The same frustrating ache she’d known the night before tormented her all day, but she managed to hold firm. Though only a peasant, she was a woman of virtue, and she refused to let the man have free roam over her person before they spoke their vows. Unfortunately, what would be expected of her after they wed terrified her. She would be his wife and no longer able to refuse him. If she intended to gain his respect, she would have to prove her intelligence and worth to him. She shared her ideas in regards to the children’s education and asked him endless questions about Cànwyck Castle and Clan MacLeod. He seemed pleased with her ideas and inquiries. Akira decided he could be a reasonable man, that is, until she drifted to sleep only to awaken with his hand nestled neatly over her breast inside her plaid. Once inside the sanctuary of their homelands, they made camp and settled around a low-burning fire. Akira’s entire body hummed with an uncomfortable ache she didn’t know how to soothe, but somehow knew Calin’s seductions were responsible for her turmoil.

  A bitter wind swept out of the darkness, chilling her back. Akira shivered and inched nearer the fire. Calin instantly moved to sit beside her, his arm curled possessively around her back. Strong fingers squeezed her hip. She glanced up at him, but his eyes roamed over the golden flames and locked with his men. Briefly, she exchanged a quick glance with each of his warriors. The moment became awkward and she suddenly felt very small.

  Pulling from his embrace, she moved to stir the fire. “Kendrick, ye five deliberated over a matter of great importance today on the vessel. What had all of ye looking so somber?”

  “We were discussin’ how many drams o’ whisky would be consumed at your weddin’.”

  Rolling her eyes at the blatant lie, she studied the five men with avid curiosity. In the ease of their safe surroundings, each man warmed his belly with a flask of malt whisky. Akira resolved if they didn’t want to return pleasant conversation then she would prove her endurance and dabble in the strengths of their spirits. Papa never shied away from a healthy dose of whisky after a long day of shearing. Mayhap that was just the remedy she needed to ease her nerves after such a grueling day. Returning to stand in front of Calin, she held out her hand. “May I have a drink?”

  “Of whisky?” He made a sour face she hadn’t seen yet.

  “Aye.” She grabbed his flask out of his hand and took a hearty sip.

  She nearly choked. The peppery flavor scorched her throat. The flames coated her insides clear to her toes. Her eyes widened as she inhaled large gulps of air, but still she maintained composure. Crivons! No wonder Mam never let us touch the stuff. She loosened her white-knuckle grip on the flask. If she meant to socialize with these brutes, she’d have to match their stamina. After taking another plentiful drink, she broke into a fit of coughing.

  Calin shot to her side, patting her back, and pushing a flagon of spring water beneath her nose. “Are ye wowf, woman? Ye dinnae drink whisky like wine.”

  When she regained her breath, she forcefully shoved his offering away. “If these barbarians will not converse with me then I’m forced to join in what appears to be the only form o’ enter…entertain…fun. If I’m to be your wife, I’ll need to be able to hold my whisky.”

  Calin broke into a wide grin. “But our women dinnae drink whisky.”

  She shot him a lethal glare and jerked away from him when he reached for the flask. “If your women dinnae participate in your social gatherin’s, what do they do?”

  Calin shrugged and eyed his men, who shrugged back. “I suspect they tend to their husbands, and birth their bairns.”

  Akira gave a quick hoot to his comment, squeezed her eyes tight, and downed another generous swig. She hiccupped once, twice, then swayed side to side. Calin steadied her with one hand. There must be something besides whisky in the flask to affect her so quickly. Mayhap a potion? Or poison? Someone spoke to her, but she couldn’t place the voice. She blinked several times when the three men on the log transformed into trolls. She laughed, but not aloud. Her arms felt light like the wings of a dragonfly. She conceded to her own stupidity.

  This had been a verra bad idea.

  She shoved the flask back into Calin’s grasp then staggered out of the fire’s circle. She stumbled into the grove, dodging low-hanging branches, and supporting herself from one tree trunk to the next until she found one sturdy enough to hold. She closed her heavy eyelids and the world seem
ed to stop between her ears.

  Oddly enough, the only thing she saw on the back of her eyelids was a gentle warrior whose smile made her weak in the knees and whose kisses made her forget reality.

  She was soused.

  Chapter Eight

  Calin looked at Kendrick. “Did I set her teeth off again?”

  Looking equally puzzled, Kendrick shrugged. “I’ve never seen Akira act so odd, nor can I recall e’er seein’ her drink aught stronger than watered wine—much less Scots whisky. Howbeit, I’d worry ’bout her scalin’ another tree if I was ye.”

  If the woman climbed a tree, she was liable to break her wee neck. Frustrated, Calin ripped through a batch of stinging nettles while the forest floor snapped beneath his footsteps. He found her hugging the trunk of a silver birch just inside the grove. Her cheek pressed against its peeling bark, and her eyes lay shut, but the curve on her lips didn’t appear to be hostile. She looked…content.

  “I think I’d like ye to wear that face when ye hug me,” he said, his voice laced with a touch of foolery. Akira didn’t move. “Ye poisoned me.”

  He laughed and drew closer. “’Tis not poison. Just the finest Scots blend to pass between your lips. The brewer claims

  ’twill put hair on your chest.”

  “I dinnae want hair on my chest.” Akira moaned. Actually, the sound came out more as a whimper. “How do ye drink that wretched stuff?”

  “Och, ye dinnae drink whisky. Ye sip it. I’ve been nursing that flask for a month.” He placed his hand on the small of her back. Her entire being quivered. He’d upset her. Damnation, but he hated to see a woman cry, especially this woman. “Forgive me if I said something to offend ye, but please dinnae cry, lass.”

  Akira continued to shake until she released her hold on the tree and doubled over holding her gut. Just as he was certain she would retch, she surprised him by bursting into laughter.