Highland Dragon

by Kimberly Killion

  Her arms crossed and a silk-covered toe tapped beneath dark blue skirts. Always forthright, she was a rock, and he knew she wouldn’t cease her badgering until he gave her something solid. “Akira is as stubborn as an auld mule and gives me trouble every time her tongue starts moving, which is often.”

  “And?”

  “She is strong.”

  “Ye mean she is strong-willed. Determined.”

  “Nay.” Calin laughed, thinking of the brawl they’d had just that morning. “I mean she is strong. Like an ox. I dinnae know why, but she nigh brought me to my knees. I think she could take Jaime.”

  “Dinnae speak ill o’ your cousin when he is not here to protect himself.”

  Calin rolled his eyes. Jaime was three and twenty. The woman really needed to quit coddling him.

  “What else?”

  “Naught else,” he lied.

  “Dinnae play games with me.” She poked him in the chest with a long bony finger. “I know ye better than that. A mon does not show up on his weddin’ day clean-shaven in the Highlands with nay story to tell.”

  “There is not much to tell. She wouldnae kiss me lest I bathed and shaved, so I did.”

  Aunt Wanda curled a tale-telling smile. “So ye like the lass’s kisses?”

  Och! Aye. Her kisses are warm and sweet and make me forget who I am. A trickle of sweat slid down his back as the faint scent of the siùcair blossom floated beneath his nose. He inhaled deeply wanting to savor the memory, but Aunt Wanda waited impatiently for an answer.

  He didn’t intend to reveal the intimacies between him and Akira with his aunt, but he had to offer her something, else she would continue to tap her damnable foot. “She has soft lips.”

  “Soft lips, aye.” Narrowing one green eye on him, she circled him like a vulture. Calin felt very small, even though he towered over the woman by two heads.

  “Is she fair of looks?”

  He sighed. Fair didn’t even begin to describe his Akira. He couldn’t put into words how one look at her sent his heart to jumping. “Aye. She is easy on the eyes.”

  “Easy on the eyes, stubborn, strong, and good for the clan. These are the words ye take to your marriage bed. I hope the woman ties ye to the bed and lashes ye.”

  Calin gave a quick hoot. “How can ye wish such ill on me?”

  “Do ye like the lass?”

  “I like the fact that our union will seal the alliance with our neighbors and protect Clan MacLeod from those English dogs.”She scowled her disapproval, and he knew he’d yet to appease the woman.

  “Take those words to your marriage bed and I can assure ye, there will be nay hope for bairns.”

  Calin looked at his feet and focused on the granite tiles sparkling beneath the dying rays of the sun. He didn’t want to talk about his marriage bed with his aunt. He didn’t want to talk about his marriage bed with anyone for that matter. He’d been trying to rid his mind of the fact he would take his virginal wife’s maidenhead, and now his aunt had brought the matter back to the forefront of his mind. He moved to wash again at the basin and noted the tremble of his hands along with the agitated cadence of his heart. He would have ridiculed himself, if he weren’t trying desperately to maintain an ineffectual composure in front of his aunt. Internally, he behaved like the young boy who’d taken a woman ten years his senior for the first time. Remembering the interlude, reminded him how aggressive he’d been, and how briefly the encounter lasted. But this night would be different.

  “Sit,” Aunt Wanda ordered. “I am not finished with ye.”

  Calin fell into a wooden settee while she slipped into the antechamber and returned with his father’s signet ring. When she attempted to place the ring on his finger, he withdrew. “Nay. I dinnae wish to wear it.” The ring reminded him of what he’d done to Akira. He wouldn’t be haunted by such memories while he spoke vows of devotion and trust.

  “But the ring symbolizes your status as laird.”

  “Mayhap ’tis wrong of me, but I dinnae want to be laird today. I just want to be a mon who’s marrying a woman before God and his clan.”

  He felt Aunt Wanda’s smile as she bent and kissed his temple. After placing the ring on the mantel, she tied his brushed hair in a queue at the nape of his neck. “Tell me, Calin. Can this woman be trusted with your heart? I dinnae want to see ye hurt again. Catriona nigh ruined ye. She was a whore, and ye must not let what happened prevent ye from sharing your heart with your wife.”

  Calin’s frown was fierce. Even he could feel it wrinkling his face. “Akira is naught like Catriona or Laird Kinnon for that matter. She is smart and giving and passionate about the people she loves. She looks like an angel and smells like a valley of spring flowers. If anyone dares to say otherwise or speak ill of her, I will slit their throat and ask questions after I bury them in unholy ground.”

  Instead of balking at his rebuttal, Aunt Wanda grinned. “Those are the words ye should take to your marriage bed. Forget about the clan for one day. Enjoy your bride and dinnae be stingy with your heart.”

  He stood abruptly and crossed the chamber to stare out the narrow window. Kinfolk filled the lawn and awaited the sounds of the fife. He thought of how easy it would be to let Akira into his heart. He wanted that, but he also had a duty to his clan and a vow to fulfill to his father. Had Da pursued the alliance solely to protect Lena? Had that goal been more important to Da than the fate of the MacLeod clan? Calin could not allow himself to be weakened by such sentiments. “My father died because he fell in love with a woman. I’ll not suffer the same fate. I am a warrior and a leader. Men who take love into battlefields, die.”

  Her comforting hand pressed against his back. “Ye are misguided, Calin, for love is what drives men to battle. Love for freedom and for Scotland. Your father dinnae die because he loved Lena. He was murdered by a mon who dinnae know love. Hate and evil killed your father, nay love. Promise me, ye will at least give the lass a chance to love ye.”

  “I fear she guards her heart more than I.” He wondered over his own words. He suspected it would take a great deal of time for Akira to open up to him. That time was certain to turn into an eternity when she discovered the secret he’d hidden from her. Turning him to her, Aunt Wanda put a mint leaf on his tongue and drew a ragged breath. “’Tis still hope both o’ ye will be defenseless in the marriage bed. Mayhap then ye will learn to trust each other. But be gentle with the lass. Ye are a big mon and liable to split her in two.”

  “Aunt Wanda!” Calin was aghast. Uncle Kerk sorely needed to instruct his wife on sharing her opinion.

  “What? ’Tis my duty to offer ye guidance on your wedding day.”

  Refusing to let the conversation go any further, he took her hand and escorted her from the chamber. “Welcome Akira to the clan and dinnae speak to her about love or the marriage bed. Ye will send her up a tree.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Calin stood at the entrance to the kirk beside Father Harrald when Akira floated through the procession of people and into his view. His knees locked, and what felt like a small animal jumped inside his gut. When a constricting force clutched at his heart, he gave his head a quick shake. What was wrong with him? He was a leader. A warrior. He refused to believe the woman he was about to marry for the sake of protecting his clan shared part of his heart, but the undeniable weight pushing against his lungs challenged his theory. As the timeless moment whirled around him like Highland mist, he realized Akira would be more than just his lady wife. She would be his companion. His friend. His lover.

  As she stood before him, her silk gown brushed his bare knee and sent a rush of tingles up his thigh. Her sweet scent consumed his senses, and the stars in her blue eyes glittered with excitement. Summer’s breeze pushed the coiled black tendrils against her slender neck. With every breath she took, the rise and fall of her chest hypnotized him beyond sensibility. And her lips. Her generous rosebud lips held the slightest curve—until they parted.

  Calin was lost.


  The crowd, Father Harrald’s garbled words, the squawking bairns, all dissipated. There was only her. Only Akira. He whispered her name then closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss her.

  “Calin,” Father Harrald whispered. “M’laird, ye must declare first.”

  Calin looked down and found Father Harrald’s age-spotted hand braced against his chest. Narrowed eyes scanned his surroundings with an acute warrior’s regard. He experienced a sense of intoxication, like he just woke from a dream, but the fantasy was real. He stood before God and his clan, and from their expressions, he was making a complete imbecile of himself. He cleared his throat, shook his muddled head, and then looked at Father Harrald. “Ye may begin.”

  “Begin?” Father Harrald chortled behind a thick white beard. “I am awaiting your vows so I might proceed to the second ceremony.”

  Once realizing he missed the dialogue to the entire first ceremony, Calin grinned sheepishly, reached for Akira’s hand, and then recited his vows in Gaelic as was the custom.

  A few moments later, she did the same then the congregation pushed them inside the kirk. She gave him a sideways glance. “Ye may want to give attention to the Latin version. It might behoove ye to know what ye agree to.”

  Calin ignored her parry, focusing on her smile. He didn’t care why she smiled, only that she did. Just before the second ceremony began, Calin leaned close to her ear. “By the saints, Akira Neish, ye are a vision.”

  “Ye are looking quite braw yourself, m’laird.” Akira batted her thick lashes shyly and held his hand. Calin had been quite pleased with his appearance when he left his solar. Clean-shaven and resplendent in regal Highland dress. As he walked to the kirk, he mused that his little dragon wouldn’t be able to resist him. But she duped him once again, for he was spellbound by her as she recited her vows, again in Latin.

  Father Harrald nudged him, and he followed suit.

  After completing the second ceremony, Father Harrald announced them, but before the priest gave permission to kiss the bride, Calin’s lips gained possession of Akira’s and refused to let go. He lost himself in her soft, warm mouth until one of his warriors pulled him off her and rushed them both into the Great Hall. He couldn’t be certain which man ended his wedding kiss, but intended to kill the bastard as soon as he figured it out.

  The assembly cheered, and the pipers exploded, marking the beginning of the festivities. Guttering torches cast the hall into an array of golden light, revealing tables strewn with pewter cups of heather ale, viands, meat pastries, and loaves of honeyed oatcakes. In little time, the trestle benches lined with kinfolk swapping flasks of malted whisky. After Father Harrald blessed the meal, a rush of gillies and maidservants tended the guests. Calin pulled his delicate bride into a ring for the first dance, and the merriment was underway in a whirlwind. Muffled voices hummed throughout the hall and, despite the melee, Calin’s gaze never left his bride.

  Uncle Kerk and Aunt Wanda formally welcomed her to Cànwyck Castle, and he found himself longing for his father’s presence. For a fleeting moment, he glanced into the ceiling of the Great Hall. An eerie tickle curled around his spine as it once did when he was a boy. He felt his father’s spirit and wondered if he had found peace with Lena. A sense of contentment washed over him. His father would have liked Akira. And Lena would be proud of her daughter’s spirit. Aileen played the role of hostess, hustling Akira through the kinfolk, and introducing her to nearly every member of the clan. A passel of children followed her like baby ducklings everywhere she went. Akira’s foster mother, Vanora, blushed wildly over an abundance of praise offered by his kinswomen. The twins danced with every child in the clan, and Isobel was at the mercy of Jaime’s attentions most of the evening. Maggie’s husband, Logan, had all but confined her to a bed due to her advanced condition, and Neala stayed behind with her husband to tend the herd.

  Calin held the utmost respect for his clan as they welcomed Akira’s family without reluctance. Not one of the Kinnons had been shunned from any conversation, and Kendrick joined the MacLeod men with ease as they tormented their laird about the absence of his beard. But Calin paid little attention to their raillery, as he was mesmerized by his bride’s composure. Mayhap he saw her differently now because she was his wife, but he’d never known a more dignified woman. So proud and brave. A born leader.

  His conscience niggled to the surface. He hated the secrets he would bring to their marriage bed. The deception. Would she trust him if he told her the truth? Or would she leave to lead Clan Kinnon as was her birthright? The weight within him expelled the breath from his lungs.

  He would gain her trust. He had to.

  Eventide passed in a haze of anticipation. Anxiously, Calin stood beside a hearth large enough for him to stand in when Kendrick pulled up beside him. “She looks happy.”

  “Aye, she does,” Calin agreed and watched her toss her head back in laughter as she conversed with Gordon’s wife.

  “Will ye tell her tonight?”

  “Nay. Tonight is for us. I’ll not ruin it with nightmares. I’ll tell her after the games. Ye will give me that before she hates me again. I will take my men and ride to meet with King James to gain his approval. This will give ye time to secure your family with the Donalds and then prepare the rebels. I dinnae want any of your womenfolk to suffer the wrath of Laird Kinnon when we declare war.”

  Kendrick nodded his acceptance. “Ye’ll be good to her. I have promised the lass a gentle mon for a husband. Dinnae make a liar o’ me, auld friend.”

  To Calin’s surprise, Kendrick embraced him and clapped him on the back with a forceful slap. He lost sight of Akira as he finalized arrangements with Kendrick, and the Great Hall suddenly felt cold. For the first time all eve, he couldn’t smell her floral scent. Instead, the bitter tinge of smoke and ale twisted through him. He pushed out of the circle of warriors to search for her when Father Harrald’s booming voice caught his attention.

  The opening of a toast rang out. The hall fell into a veil of silence. Too much whisky glazed Father Harrald’s wrinkled eyes, and his words came out garbled. “Join me in salutation one an’ all, as I toast the bride an’ groom.” He wavered. “I’ve awaited this day nigh twenty years myself. May your hearts be filled with happiness an’ Cànwyck Castle be filled with your bairns.”

  The crowd rumbled in agreement. Father Harrald raised a quaff of whisky. “To the chieftain o’ Clan MacLeod an’ his bride.” Brown droplets trickled to the floor when he raised an unsteady hand yet higher, gaining everyone’s undivided attention.

  “To Calin and Lena.”

  Father Harrald dipped his head back and poured the whisky down his throat. Escalating sounds of question pitched throughout the hall. Confused looks crossed between the attendants, followed by a few passing shrugs. Ignoring Father Harrald’s folly, a handful of men cheered, raised their goblets, and then quickly followed his actions. Calin’s eyes popped, as did Kendrick’s. He scanned the assembly. Some still lingered in puzzlement. Most didn’t care, but Vanora sat in the midst of five elderly women with her hands over her mouth in an obvious panic.

  “Hell and damnation!” Calin cursed at no one in particular. This upset would send Akira into upheaval. She would insist on knowing who Lena was. He didn’t want to lie to her anymore, but…

  Calin moved swiftly through the maze of people dreading the inevitable discussion. He stood in the center of the Great Hall and slowly turned a full circle.

  Akira was gone.

  She must have heard Father Harrald’s toast and ran. His eyes rolled beneath his lids when he pictured her climbing a tree in that gown. The attendants in the corridor hadn’t seen her leave, but she’d vanished from the hall. Calin sent a dozen men onto the lawn to search the trees while he and his clansmen stalked the castle.

  They returned empty-handed.

  Anger replaced worry, and he wondered if this woman would make anything easy on him. Calin flinched when Aileen cupped his elbow from behind.

  “Come
with me, m’laird.” She led him to a blue drape, shrouding a small mural alcove off the entrance to the keep. An audible exhale came from his throat when he found Akira buried beneath the puddle of her gown atop a multitude of pillows stuffed with dried heather. Curled into a ball, snuggled lil’ Andrew, sleeping soundly atop her bosom. A burgundy smudge of rowan marmalade stained the corner of his lips.

  She appeared at peace, content. She must have slipped out while he spoke with Kendrick. Relief flooded his insides as he realized she hadn’t heard the toast. His saints had been with him this time. Akira looked up at them with lethargic eyes. “I fear the festivities have exhausted us both. Forgive us for hiding.”

  Calin never took his eyes off her. “Aileen, could ye please take your son? I’d like to escort my wife to our chamber.”

  “Aye, m’laird.”

  As soon as Aileen removed Andrew, Calin lifted Akira into his arms. He was about to make this woman his wife in mind and body and every nerve sprung to life. He would know the taste of her milky skin, and the feel of her soft body beneath him. A passion had been forming between them, and he was eager to see if her spirit followed her into their bed. Before he ever took a step, he was raging hard beneath his plaid.

  He glanced at Aileen. “Have Alec convince Father Harrald he already blessed our marriage bed. I dinnae wish to be disturbed.”

  Akira stiffened in his arms. A flush of terror washed over her face. “Nay!” she shouted.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Have ye lost your wit? I’ll not consummate this union on an unblessed bed.” Akira couldn’t allow this, but Calin seemed determined to escape the ritual. What was he thinking?

  She suspected his wits were no longer in charge of his actions. All evening his eyes had followed her, and she fantasized about his heated gaze traveling the length of her naked body. Such impure thoughts had never entered her head before she met him. The bed must be blessed!