He didn’t dare hope that she might have forgiven him. That was a prayer he was certain had gone unanswered. The ceremony proved unbearable for him. Hearing the vows he and Akira spoke not long ago and watching Jaime kiss Isobel shattered his already unstable composure. He had to gain control over his emotions before she reduced him to a sniveling twit. When the crowd followed the bride and groom to the Great Hall, he broke his hold with Akira and rushed to the stable. He couldn’t escape fast enough.
Once out of earshot, the frightened boy inside him emerged front and center. The one who cried when no one was looking.
Akira watched him flee into a sparse flutter of snowflakes falling from a gray January sky. She hugged herself to ward off a shudder. The sudden cold crawled up her empty hand. The same cold and hollow feeling had dwelled in her heart since losing her child…and her husband.
Wiping her cheek, she welcomed Wanda’s comforting arm at her waist.
“Calin has not fared as weel as ye.” Wanda hugged her. “He still mourns for your child, but even more so for ye. He’s just a mon, m’lady. A mon who prays every day for redemption.”
Akira had felt his pain through his hand. He’d been hesitant to touch her, and she was responsible for that distance. The last words she’d spoken to him were harsh, but she’d acted out in anger. She knew now he wasn’t to blame and, more than anything, she wanted to take away the guilt she’d burdened him with and whatever battles awaited them with King James, they would fight together, as husband and wife.
Akira moved to go to him, but Wanda held tight to her arm. “He wouldnae want ye to see him like this.”
“I must speak to him.”
“He’s a mon in a great deal o’ pain. I know ye have suffered a terrible loss, but so has he. Nay one knows his pain more than I. When he’s ready, he will come to ye. Listen to his words and dinnae judge him.” Wanda paused long enough to give Akira’s hand a gentle pat, then diverted the subject. “Now, your sister is celebrating her marriage, and I think she would be sorely disappointed if ye missed the festivities.”
Akira accepted Wanda’s wisdom and decided to allow him time to compose himself. She followed Wanda back to the Great Hall where the jovial music of pipes and strings only served as a backdrop to the hum of merriment. Jaime twirled Isobel in a dance and the onslaught of feasting was well underway.
A throng of kinfolk embraced her the moment she entered the Great Hall. For more than an hour, she accepted sympathies from the women and listened patiently to the children reminisce about their Christmastide. A familiar hand tugged at her skirt. Akira knew who she would find before she ever turned around. “’Tis good to see ye again, Andrew.” She squatted to eye level with the sprightly young lad and popped his nose with a kiss. He must have grown two full hands in her absence. Aileen beamed behind him with a new bairn swaddled in her arms, tiny pink fingers escaped the linens and swatted the air.
“I’ve a new sister, m’lady. I got to pick her name, because I was last born,” Andrew said, as if he’d repeated those same words a hundred times.
Akira stood, her knees knocking, and peeled back the linen covering the bairn’s face. She was an angel. A perfect pug nose, round cheeks, enormous blue eyes, and heart-shaped lips. It was impossible for Akira not to think of the child she’d lost. Her heart stung for the next two beats before she forged past her sorrow. “And what wonderful name did ye choose for such a beautiful sister?”
Andrew gloated so big his cheeks almost pushed his blue eyes shut. “Akira. I named her Akira. Same as your name, m’lady.”
A steady stream of tears curled around Akira’s cheeks and into her smile while she lightly squeezed Aileen. How did this little boy always manage to inch his way into her heart?
When Elsbeth approached her, Akira fanned herself to compose her emotions, and then blew a sigh of relief. Thank Heavens Gordon had escorted Catriona to a private chamber until after the council meeting. Catriona had shown her naught but gratitude and respect over the past month at Brycen Castle, but the MacLeod kin couldn’t possibly understand their bond. Akira could only hope Elsbeth might one day forgive her sister.
Seeing Elsbeth plump with child alongside a man Akira assumed was her English husband caught her unguarded. Certainly, she didn’t expect Elsbeth to still be mourning Ian’s death, but what struck her more odd was the crossbarred plaid pleated to perfection over the Englishman’s royal blue doublet.
Only after almost crushing Akira’s ribs, did Elsbeth offer a brief introduction. “M’lady, I would like ye to meet my husband, Robert MacLeod.”
Akira extended her hand, palm down to receive his kiss, but cocked her head in question. “He took m’laird’s name?”
“Aye. Much has happened in your absence, m’lady,” Elsbeth explained. “A steward to the King of Scotland arrived just a sennight after ye departed. King James granted my annulment, and m’laird sent a missive to my Robert the following day. Since ye know I could not return to England, my Robert denounced King Henry and pledged fealty to Laird MacLeod.”
Seemingly proud of his new attire, Robert exposed a wide grin behind his cropped black beard and kissed Akira’s knuckles. “I am eternally indebted to ye, m’lady, for returning me to my wife and son. The information I supplied your husband is a scant beginning to the gratitude I intend to bestow upon your kin.”
Akira’s smile came slowly, but she only retained two words out of the man’s well-spoken mouth— your husband. Where was her husband?
Another hour passed painfully slowly. While trying to entertain idle chatter with the kinswomen, she watched the entrance and waited to see Calin’s face.
She needed to speak with him and absolve him of the guilt she had, in her despair, placed on him. When the guests followed Father Harrald into the snow-blanketed bailey for the blessing of the marriage bed, she snuck away in search of Calin. The stable was empty, as well as the kirk. Akira returned to the keep and climbed the steps of the west tower. A wave of angst stirred low in her stomach as she pieced together the words she would say when she found him. Standing at his solar door, she questioned whether to knock or just go in. She pushed the door open and whispered his name. Her heart pounded against her vocal cords.
He was not there.
The wind blew snow beneath the tapestry fluttering against the window. Wandering about the room, she welcomed the hearth’s warmth to stave off a deep chill settling into her bones. She curled around the bedpost and reminisced the time they shared as husband and wife—lost in each other’s arms in the heat of passion. Her whole body flashed at the images those memories evoked.
As she approached the adjoining doors to the lady’s solar, she was caught curious by the odd-shaped stone painted with a red heart sitting atop the dresser. Picking it up, she studied its design and tried to recall why the trinket jarred her memory. An old piece of parchment poked out from beneath the lid of an unlocked strongbox. The iron coffer looked sturdy enough to protect precious jewels. Carefully, she lifted the lid and examined its contents—her wedding band, a small yellow feather, painted pebbles of various sizes, two twigs fastened by twine to make a cross. Beneath the odd collection were folded pieces of yellowed parchment. When she unfolded the first, she was taken back to her childhood. A drawing of a small girl holding the hand of a boy. The figures were drawn by the hand of a child with only dots for eyes and happy lines for smiles. Akira retrieved another missive, written in her hand and signed with her name. She couldn’t have been more than seven or eight when she wrote it. The note was silly. A memoir about how Papa whipped her for chasing the twins with a spider. Akira chuckled to herself, set it aside, and reached for another. The handwriting had changed. She was older when she wrote the missive, still no more than nine or ten.
Dearest Benefactor,
Ye would be proud of me. Papa took us to the fair at Retterseils. I won a ribbon for my poem. Papa dangled the ribbon in front of my sisters and told them I was his smartest daughter. I am sending ye the ribbon
so ye might keep it safe until ye come for me. I worry my sisters may want to ruin it. I am also sending these magic pebbles. I bought them at the fair from a gypsy who said they would yield me a great fortune. They have not worked for me and I thought ye might know how to use them. Yours most affectionately,
Akira
Akira smiled as she recalled the fair at Mercat Cross. Mam and Papa took them every year, and every year they bickered over something so trivial it wasn’t worth recollecting. Despite the petty badgering among siblings, Akira had been raised by a family who loved her. And they still loved her. They had returned from Clan Donald and were at her side when her world was lost. She condemned Calin for stealing her life from her when, in fact, he was the one who gave her life. Adrift in her musing, Akira jumped when Calin reached over her shoulder and snatched the missive from her hand.
“What are ye doing here? These are my belongings.” Calin’s bronze color flushed a brilliant red as he returned everything back to the strongbox and latched it.
“Ye saved every trinket I ever sent ye. All these years. Why?”
“Because they were from ye. From the girl I would one day make my bride and cherish for the rest of my life. The girl who once trusted me to protect her most valuable things.” He blew an embarrassed breath and tucked the box into the shadows of the anteroom.
If Akira hadn’t already loved him, she would after that admission. What grown man keeps such things? She stood dumbfounded in the middle of the chamber. Her jaw open and poised to speak, but her mind could form no words.
“I was a foolish boy then. I protected your magic pebbles, and heart of stone, but I wasnae mon enough to protect ye or your child.” Calin crossed the room in three strides. “Ye may sleep in either solar. The maids just laundered the linens. I’ll have Evie bring ye warm water.”
“Wait. Where are ye going?” Akira stopped him just before he stepped over the threshold. His broad shoulders fell and his head hung low. “I cannae be this close to ye and not touch ye.”
Akira ran to him before he disappeared into the darkened corridor. She cupped his hand over her cheek and stole a glimpse into his sorrowful eyes. Knowing she had caused his pain, she wanted to take it away and make it her own. “Then touch me, but dinnae leave.”
Chapter Thirty
Calin pulled Akira into his chest. The strength of his embrace frightened her. “I am so verra sorry. I never meant to hurt ye. I never meant to deceive ye or cause the death of our child.”
She wept against his chest, and for the first time, she experienced a sense of freedom from her loss. Longing to release him from his guilt, she stepped away and dried her eyes on her sleeve. She cradled his strong jaw in her hands and swallowed. “Ye dinnae cause it. I blamed ye because I had no one else to blame. I was devastated and angry with ye. But I dinnae blame ye, or God or myself anymore.”
“I could’ve prevented it all had I not been such a coward. I should have protected ye.”
“Hear me, Calin. I was bleeding before Laird Kinnon’s men came for me. I dinnae realize it at the time, but I was already losing the babe. Our midwife explained many things to me. Ye cannae blame yourself, and I was wrong to accuse ye of such.”
Calin brought her palm to his lips. “Believe me when I tell ye, I wanted that child. There was never an underlying scheme to see ye suffer. I dinnae marry ye for vengeance. I should’ve told ye the truth, but I feared losing ye.”
Akira tugged on his hand with both of hers, coaxing him back into the chamber enough to close the door. “Then tell me now.” She guided him to the cushioned bench beside the peat fire burning in the hearth. “I wish to know of my mother. And of the night of my birth. Father Harrald said ye were there, but he dinnae say more.”
Calin squeezed his eyes tight and shook his head. “’Tis too painful. I’ll not burden ye with such nightmares. ’Tis enough for ye to know that Laird Kinnon was your father, but only in blood. Naught more.”
Akira leaned in and traced his stubborn eyebrow with the tip of her finger. “Please, Calin. I want to know. Dinnae keep the truth from me any longer.”
Calin contemplated while he stroked the soft skin between her thumb and forefinger. Then finally, the words came. “Your mother was beautiful. Ye look just like her. Same blue eyes, same silky black hair. Lena gave birth to three other daughters afore ye. They all died shortly after.”
“The Beast murdered them because they were girls?” Akira asked, unable to fathom what her mother must have endured. Calin shrugged. “I cannae say for certain, but Lena believed he did. ’Tis why she came to my father. To ask for his protection.” He redirected his gaze to the floor rushes. “I think he fell in love with her almost instantly. They stole away together at the border as often as they could. She was kind to me, and I watched her belly grow until time grew too short for them to meet. I remember the last time she came to Da. A bruise tinted the side of her face and her eyes were swollen from tears. She pleaded with Da to push the alliance between our clans.”
“Why?”
“To protect ye. Lena believed she carried another daughter. She had dressed as a peasant and gone into Kilmarck to seek out a soothsayer. The seer drained blood from her belly and performed a ritual, after which she assured Lena she carried a lass. Lena feared Laird Kinnon would kill ye and believed our union was the only way to save ye. She made Da promise to protect ye until we were old enough to wed. I suspect she knew her death was imminent. Either by childbearing or at the hands of her husband.”
Calin now stared into the empty room as if watching the scene play out in front of him. “Laird Kinnon was suspicious of Da’s relationship with her. Their adulteress acts were probably the reason he agreed to our union. He never intended to follow through. He had Darach bundled in an antechamber awaiting presentation before ye ever came out of the womb.” Calin’s chin sank lower to his chest with every word. His strong features hardened.
“Think ye the mon would’ve had the decency to let your mother give birth in a privy chamber, but he paraded her pain in front of Da until she delivered ye on the council table. As soon as ye were born, Laird Kinnon ordered the slaughter of my father and his men then presented Darach as his son to the villagers o’ Dalkirth.”
Holding her breath, Akira sobbed internally, but she didn’t dare stop him. She wanted more than anything to know what happened to her and her mother.
“Laird Kinnon’s warriors killed the MacLeod men and then ran my father through with a halberd while Da placed a kiss upon Lena’s lips. Ye rested at her breast when they…” He paused, a small vein in his temple started to protrude. She wiped her eyes, sniffled, and inhaled a shaky breath. Holding his hand as comfort, Akira consoled him. “Tell me. I need to know.”
“They cut your mother’s throat then confessed their sins to Father Harrald before they fled.” Calin’s voice settled into a husky whisper as if the words he guarded had never once crossed his lips.
“I believe my mother is at peace now. She was there ye know. At Brycen Castle. Her spirit.” After Laird Kinnon’s death, Darach had searched Brycen Castle for a trace of her mother’s warmth. The constant cold that had always been prevalent had dissipated. Father Harrald had accompanied Akira to her mother’s grave and blessed the ground her mother and sisters had been buried in.
“Mayhap, she couldnae leave this earth until she knew ye were safe,” Calin said. Offering him a tender smile, Akira saw the young and frightened boy in his eyes. What he’d lived through could have turned his heart to ash, but Calin had chosen to protect her. “Ye have kept me safe. The same as ye did that night. Ye saved me.”
He kissed the inside of her wrist. “There is more.” Calin folded both her hands together in his as if what he was about to say might cause her to flee. “The mark. The one that has caused ye such grief. ’Tis not the mark of the devil. ’Tis the MacLeod crest. The head of a bull.” He pulled off his signet ring and placed it in her hand for her to study. Holding the gold band beneath her nose, Akira focu
sed on the horned animal. “I dinnae understand.”
“My mother died birthing me. Her death caused Da to become obsessed with his possessions. He marked what belonged to him with this symbol.” Calin gestured around the solar. “His targe, his claymore, his livestock. When I was but years of seven, I climbed over the curtain wall to follow my father’s warriors to the Isle of Mull near Tobermory. When Da found me, he gave me a sound thrashing then branded the bottoms of my feet with this ring.
“I branded ye, because ye were mine. Ye were my betrothed. My father died trying to save ye, and I intended to seek the alliance in his stead. But my triumph has not brought me the great joy I expected. I’ve lost everything. My child…my wife.”
And the truth shall set ye free. The verse flashed through Akira’s head. She wasn’t a witch. A part of her always believed she might be. The part of her that knew she was different from her sisters, yet wanted so very much to belong. Calin’s hand caressed the side of her cheek. “I’d give a thousand lifetimes to return to that night.”
Like a seasoned player, her heart directed her and told her to forgive him and bury the past. Reaching for his hand, she returned the signet ring to his finger then brought him to his feet in front of her. She splayed her hands against his—palm to palm.
“But we only have this one lifetime, and I want to spend it with ye. I want to come home, Calin.” He pressed his brow to hers. Akira felt his hot breath on her face and ached for it. “Ye are my husband and I am your wife.”
“Ye are more than my wife.” Calin pulled her fingers to his ear. “Ye are my soul mate, and I love ye.”
For a timeless moment her heart stilled. A wild energy exploded inside her belly and flitted behind her breast. Akira closed her eyes and drew his bottom lip between hers. She tasted the salt of his tears, or were they hers. They were not tears of sadness, but tears of joy.
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