More raucous laughter reached his ears and he relaxed a bit, thinking about the shooting stars he had spied earlier, wondering if that could be what Una had been referring to. His mother had been named after them… but she was long gone now and had nothing left to tell him. Certainly, he had seen many falling stars before tonight, but never three at once. And yet, even if the signs were divine, what the hell could they possibly mean?
Nothing, he decided. They were simply stars... stars that had fallen from grace.
Like his faith.
He stood for a time, enjoying the sound of the reed and the cool night air. Fall was near and there was a bite in the air. Soon, the blossoms in the fields would fade, and the grass would turn to gold. No matter that it heralded the coming of winter, this was his favorite time of the year, for these were the nights when a man could be grateful for a good woman in his bed…
He shuddered involuntarily at the thought of Lìleas—not in revulsion, he was surprised to confess. A sense of anticipation began to stir in his belly and it set his nerves on edge…
Did she entertain thoughts of the bedding as well?
Surely, she did, for she was a woman grown, with a child already and one dead husband—aye, she would know exactly what was to transpire between them once the words were said.
Would she revile him, or would she embrace him and enjoy the coupling? That look in her eyes... what it was he didn’t know, but it wasn’t revulsion.
Those violet eyes held the power to unman him.
Sucking in the fresh night air, he smelled traces of the bonfire, and then belatedly—much too belatedly, as far as he was concerned—he thought about his sister Sorcha and resigned himself to go and search for her to be sure all was well.
As for those other two lackeys of David... although he had no doubt they had already spied the men he had assigned to guard them, he wanted to make damned sure they felt his presence as well. If the least sign of treachery arose, he would slit their throats faster than they could open their mouths to scream—and that included the siùrsach maid.
A traitor was a traitor.
In the silence of the room, Lìli bowed her head and prayed, taking comfort in the fact that the boy's breath now seemed far less labored. She had done everything she could for the lad and now all they could do was wait. She prayed for herself as well:
Holy Earth, Mother of us all
Help me be me strong in spirit and gentle of heart
Let me act with wisdom, conquer fear and doubt...
In the dim light, she turned to study the boy’s mother. Glenna was young—mayhap no older than Lìli. Sleep had softened her features so that she almost looked like a child herself. Dark-haired and with a darker complexion than Lìli’s, she seemed not all that different from Lìli, not really.
Her gaze searched the room. In one corner sat a weaver’s loom, and beside it a pile of bundled sheepskin that had yet to be cleaned. On the woman’s shelves Lìli spied different colored tinctures—mayhap stains for her wool? A half woven strip of tartan hung over the back of the chair seated near the loom and another lay folded upon the floor. Lìli recognized it as the same weave as the one that covered the bed in the cottage she had been given to sleep in. They were the colors of Aidan's tribe—blood red and forest green.
The candles here all looked familiar as well. She lifted one beside her that had already burned out, searching the bottom for a familiar mark. She found the symbol Cailin had shown her on the bottom of this candle as well, and considered that these people lived as though they were one, sharing skills and trading their wares.
At Keppenach, although Lìli had never really encountered any ill will, the villagers all clamored for more, eager for their share. At harvest time, Stuart had listened to many a grievance, settling debts for men who hardly seemed willing to compromise. More than like, if one villager had not enough gold to buy an item, he went without until he could. Or he stole it...
It was too soon to know for certain but Lìli had a sense of something different here—as though these people were truly a clan united.
She shivered, and her eyes were drawn again to Glenna’s sleeping form, to her own arisaid draped about the woman’s shoulders.
The night had grown cold.
Lìli was freezing.
Rising from her knees, she went to the hearth where the fire was beginning to wane. She took the pot from its hook and set it upon the floor. Then she put new wood upon the fire and stoked it, reviving the flames. There was hardly any need to keep the vin aigre potion warm, so she left it where it was to cool, hoping the boy would awaken soon. She had a great desire to see the color of his eyes. Were they gray like his mothers, or were they dark and deep like her son’s? Or green like Aidan and his siblings? In all her life she had never seen more green-eyed men and women in one place.
In the meantime, while she waited, she was certain Glenna would be hungry when she awoke, so she set about preparing a meal from Glenna’s pantry, intending to have it ready when the pair awoke. There was no way Glenna would be able to care for her child if she didn’t first nurture herself.
God’s truth, so much had happened since they had arrived that Lìli felt as though she had been here a sennight already. She had never been wearier than she was at the instant, but there was something innately sound about what she was doing. She didn’t stop to question why she felt so much at home for the simple fact that it filled her with guilt.
Aidan had left her alone with Glenna. Did that mean he trusted her? Had she somehow passed some test?
If so, she was both grateful and mortified at once because if there was one thing Aidan should never do… it was to trust her.
Chapter Nine
With a groan of satisfaction, Rogan plucked a small rock out of his arse and tossed it away, then brushed another from beneath his shoulder blade. By God, these people lived like savages, forcing a man to seek his pleasure behind boulders in stone-littered fields. At least the low-lying fog gave them some measure of privacy. He returned his hand to Aveline’s there upon his chest, squeezing gently. “If she canna do it, you must do it for her,” he commanded her.
By the saints, he stood to gain far too much to allow Lìleas to fail, for once it was all done, he would also inherit Caimbeul lands through his marriage to Lìli. He and Padruig had settled the matter outside of the King’s council. The old man would not live forever and he had no living sons and only one daughter. His good fortunes had all withered with his daughter’s curse. In exchange, Rogan had agreed to give him a hefty payment of gold. Now between Rogan’s suborn and King David’s payment, Padruig Caimbeul could no doubt buy himself the loyalties of many, but what did Rogan care if he waged war against David himself when Rogan stood to inherit anything the greedy old lecher appropriated from hence forth?
On the other hand, Aveline’s father stood to lose much if Padruig were to suffer itchy fingers for her father’s territory lay directly south of Caimbeul land. Teviotdale was weak and old and her only brother was a milksop who buggered pretty men.
But there was no reason for Aveline to know any of it. For now, it suited him well enough for the stupid lass to believe there was a chance he might some day wed her. That her father had risked his daughter’s virtue by sending her to live at Keppenach without a promise of marriage was none of Rogan’s concern—such was the idiocy of a border lord. It only surprised him that he had not filled Aveline’s belly with a brat yet, for he had plowed her unremittingly since her arrival at Keppenach.
What if he could not father sons? The idea of leaving all he owned to Stuart’s half-mute son did not settle well with him. Aye, the child could speak, but no matter how kindly he treated the boy, with the intent of winning over his mother, the little bastard simply stared at him with those nut-brown eyes that gave Rogan a wretched and unwelcome feeling in the pit of his gut.
“Do not worry, Rogan. I will not fail you,” Aveline promised. She splayed her fingers across his bare chest. She had the
speech of a well-born heiress, he thought. Too bad her nose was too long and her eyes were the color of baby’s poop.
They had discovered a quiet place to lay together, and now that he was well sated, he allowed her the privilege of resting her head upon his chest. That too suited him, for there was a rising chill in the air that he was beginning to feel now that the heat of his ardor had cooled. Aveline was not Lìleas, but she knew how to please a man, that much he would give her.
If it turned out that Aveline was barren, mayhap he would keep her around even once he and Lìleas were wed... just in case his brother’s wife proved to be as cold in bed as her demeanor.
Damned Lìleas, for she was an ice queen, who rebuffed him at every turn!
At least it comforted him to know that Stuart could not have gleaned much more from his frigid bride, for he had never witnessed much affection pass between them, despite that Stuart’s heart had grown soft over the lass. How the hell his brother had ever put his child in her belly was a mystery to Rogan, for he could not imagine Lìleas willingly spreading her legs for any man. But he would plow her good and often once she was finally his—curses be damned. Bah, he didn’t believe in witches or magic! And if anyone were to ask his dead brother, Stuart would agree. Stupid bastards hadn’t even bothered to look to see whose fletching was on the arrow they had yanked out of his brother’s eye. All things that went up, must of course, come down, and Stuart had not been the only one to send an arrow into the air that day.
Tonight the stars were bright, and he sighed, imagining the gold he would earn through David’s favor.
“You know I would do anything for you,” Aveline swore as she stopped to pull gently at a single hair upon his chest. That annoyed him, but he said nothing. He needed her to continue to serve him for the moment, and so he would say nothing to cool her ardor, particularly now that he would be forced to leave her once the wedding took place. That was the agreement. Only one of them could remain with lovely Lìli, and it must be Aveline.
Aveline blew a sigh across the hairs of his chest. “I love you, Rogan,” she said breathlessly.
The words soured Rogan’s stomach, but he forced himself to repeat them, and considered the fact that he really didn’t need Lìleas’ love. Padruig had the right of it. He didn’t intend to fall prey to her wiles the way his brother had. Loving her wasn’t necessary to his purpose. All he had to do to raise his cock was simply look at her face, for he had never once in his life seen a woman so bonny as Lìli. Aye, it was her face he saw when he loved Aveline. Her body he spilled his seed into. Her tremors he imagined beneath him. But love had aught to do with it.
Now her father’s lands were another matter entirely—those he could love. In fact, the thought of ruling both Stuart’s and Padruig’s lands filled him with an avid lust that not even Lìleas’ body could arouse.
Aveline continued to pluck at the hairs upon his chest and he covered her small hand with his in order to still her movements, and peered up at the stars. As he lay there, he spied a shooting star—and then a second, and a third and his cock stirred with excitement. It was a sign from God that his aims were true. “Did you see that?” he asked.
“Nay,” she replied, lifting her head. “What was it?”
Rogan smiled to himself. It was meant for him alone, he decided, and opted not to share. “Naught,” he lied and pushed her onto her back, rolling atop her and peering down at her with glee. “When all ’tis done, ye’ll want for naught,” he swore. “I will reward ye handsomely, Aveline.”
“You are my reward!” she declared, and the look in her eyes as she peered up at him was full of devotion.
Rogan’s grin widened, for that’s the way he needed her to remain.
The thought of all he would possess once the deed was done hardened him more fully, and he slid down to free his cock from between their bodies, positioning himself at the entrance of her skinny body, taking great satisfaction in the way her head lolled backward and her small breasts rose to beseech him. She moaned softly and he thought in that instant how easy it would be to snap her neck if he so pleased... and mayhap that’s what he would do when it was all over... if he decided a concubine wasn't necessary.
He moved his hands along her arms, until he reached her wrists, pinning them to the pebbled ground. All the while she moaned and squirmed beneath him like a cat in heat, responding so wantonly to his touch that she did not seem to care that she was razing her back flesh with tiny stones. Once he had her hands secured, he thrust himself inside her, reveling in the cry she gave, even more pleased that she did not look at him, for with her head turned and her dark hair splayed across her face under the moonlight, he could pretend she was Saint Lìleas instead. “S e luid a th'annad,” he snarled, his pleasure heightened by the fact that she did not understand the old tongue, for she was nothing but a lowlander bitch and slut.
“Have ye gone and lost your bride already?” Lael asked, her brow arching with censure when she spied Aidan alone.
Aidan said nothing in response, but he came and stood beside her, crossing his arms and peering about in search of their guests. It seemed that save for a handful, every last clansman was present tonight, enjoying the uisge and weather. With scarce few days remaining before winter was upon them, they were undaunted by the threat of Scotsmen or potential illnesses. The Scoti were few enough to warrant being ignored, and the illness, no doubt, they were determined to pay little heed. It was far easier to deny it than to acknowledge there was a scourge in their midst. But poor Dunc would make four dead now, and Aidan worried over that fact.
It wasn’t his sister’s style to leave off. Like a dog with a bone, she would amuse herself until there was nothing left to chew over. “I thought I’d ne’er see the day when my brother chased a Scoti aboot like a hound in heat!”
He gave her a quelling look, but let her have her moment of pique. He understood precisely why she felt the way she did. He felt that way himself, and was disgusted by the entire situation. It pained him more than a little to defend Lìleas, but he felt compelled to do so after what he had witnessed. “I left her tending Duncan,” he said, but that was as much as he had any desire to reveal.
“’Tis what Sorcha said, but she also said you left Lìleas and Glenna to kill each other in your absence. Wouldn’t it be far simpler to send your Scoti bride home if ye dinna want her?”
Aidan didn’t know what he wanted. “I left her with Sorcha, and went to seek Una’s counsel. In fact, it was Sorcha who left those two alone, not I.” He gave Lael a pointed look, and then uncomfortable with her scrutiny, looked away.
Lael was studying him, her canny green eyes unrelenting. Of all his siblings, she knew him best of all. There was hardly a thing he could conceal from her knowing gaze. “She thought ye might be worried and wanted to ease your mind. Apparently, Lìleas and Glenna found a way to embrace one another.”
Aidan peered at her to find that her expression was as sincere as the tone of her voice, and he was grateful for the respite. What he needed right now was his sister’s true counsel, not a hellion who was bound to see him squirm in his boots. “I noticed.” And again he marveled over it. “What of the others?”
Lael’s tone once again turned taut. “The brother and the siùrsach are coupling in the field like a pair of horny rabbits. Fergus watches them from afar.”
Aidan laughed at the thought of the ancient warrior, with his shriveled willie watching those two coupling. Fergus, the dirty old goat, would never take his eyes off them for a second, and his sister knew it. But what he might be doing up there while watching Aidan didn’t care to contemplate. “And what of the priest and the others?”
“Over there.” She hitched her chin in the direction she intended him to look. “The priest hasna left his post by the fire. He sits there worrying at his beads and staring into the flames—intoning prayers for our souls, no doubt. The other three have all remained by his side the entire night.”
“They look a bit as though they
feel themselves cornered by wolves.”
Lael leaned into him, grinning suddenly. “Ach, but they are, are they no’?”
Inasmuch as outsiders called him dún Scoti, his spirit animal was the wolf, and it was that name his father had affectionately given him and his siblings as children. He was, as his father had said, the strongest of his wolf pups. But memories of his sire were difficult for him to process without anger and so he preferred never to dwell upon them, especially not now when he was trying so hard to find a way to embrace this Scoti bride he had accepted in the name of peace. “Where is Sorcha now?”
Lael’s grin faded. “Who knows? Like as not she’s with Una as she was seeking you. Or mayhap she has returned to Glenna’s?”
So should Aidan be, he realized, as he spied Cailin and Keane creating some mischief together near the uisge kegs. He could tell by the looks upon their faces and by their stealthy movements that they were up to little good. He gestured in their direction. “Make certain whatever plan those two are hatching doesna bring our men to blows with our guests.”
Even as he said the words, Keane returned to where their sister Cailin lay hidden, carrying a burning stick. Through experience they knew the uisge was quite flammable. If anyone doubted it, they had only to ask Fergus who no longer could grow hair on one side of his face, because he’d made the mistake of taking a candle to his cups to look for a hair swimming in his drink. He never found the hair, and lost full half his beard.
“Damn him!” Lael exclaimed, and she was already racing in their direction as his little brother lit a fuse of cloth behind one of the barrels. Thankfully, they kept the kegs on the beach near the water. He considered the boy he had shared drinks with earlier this afternoon, and frowned. Had he truly thought Keane a man already? This moment brought that fallacy into stark clarity. His brother was yet but a truculent boy. And Cailin, while she looked every bit like a woman grown, she was nearly as much an imp as her brother. Aidan remained long enough to be certain Lael reached them in time. Both Keane and Cailin saw her coming and hied away in fear, and fortunately for the evening’s continuity, the fuse had been a long one and his sister reached it in time and tamped it out, then went hurrying after the runaways while their guests stood with their backs to the kegs, completely oblivious to his brother and sister’s antics.
Highland Fire (Guardians of the Stone) Page 10