“This is Dubhlan. And well named he is,” Connal said. “He challenges me at every opportunity. Much like yourself, Liandra. Still, over the years the horse and I have overcome our differences. As I hope you and I shall in the future."
Liandra rolled her eyes heavenward and Connal chuckled.
“What is the monster doing?” she cried as the horse stretched out its head towards her.
Connal's body blocked her escape. “Dubhlan will not hurt you. One day I will take you riding and show you my county. And you can make up your mind whether County Arran is the most beautiful on Caledonia—or not."
“You will allow me to see the rest of your world?"
“Eventually."
“How?"
“I do not understand."
“You have no air cars."
“We ride our horses."
“Ride them!” Liandra looked at him aghast.
“Aye.” Connal laughed. “I like nothing more than to give Dubhlan his head. He be the fastest horse in the county."
“How can you ride this monster?”
“'Tis easy. When saddled you ride on its back. By the use of reins you direct the horse. I can teach you if you like."
“No, I would not abuse a creature in such a way."
Connal frowned. “There is no abuse. If a creature be ill-treated ‘twill not respond, except with fear and violence."
“Much like me."
His brows drew together. “You have not known mistreatment."
“Have I not?"
“Most definitely not."
Liandra laughed at him. Slowly a grin replaced his frown.
“You were teasing me,” he accused.
“I?” Hesitantly holding out her hand, she allowed Dubhlan to nibble her fingers.
“'Tis a greedy monster you be!” Connal said. He dug into the bag and drew out one of the white cubes. “Here, like this.” He placed it on her flat palm, and still holding her hand he held it out to Dubhlan.
The horse gently took the gift and chomped it quickly, whuffling against her palm, looking for more. Liandra couldn't credit it that such a huge beast could be so gentle. Dubhlan rubbed his head against her body with such force that she stumbled against Connal.
Laughing, he steadied her. “You are honored, Liandra. He usually shows affection only to myself and the stable-master. But Jennie—"
Liandra glanced up at him. “Jenna doesn't like your horse?"
Connal paused for so long, that Liandra thought he would not answer her. “Rather say the two ignore one another. But he falls under your witch's spell."
“I have no spells."
“Do you not?"
Smiling, Connal took her elbow. In silence, they retraced their steps across the courtyard. Going through a stone arch, Liandra gasped in delight as they entered the gardens, which she had glimpsed from her windows.
It was an intoxicating mixture of sights and scents; the bright colors of flowers, their perfumes combining with a wet, earthy smell. She had experienced similar on her father's estate years ago. Since leaving her parents, she had lived in one austere environment after another. Maybe when she returned home she would install a conservatory. Her League apartment had a back room she'd never fully utilized.
She suddenly realized how she missed her Asarian home and her parents. And that led to other things—the aliens. Her friends trapped in the dream-state...
“What is it?” Connal's fingers on her arm made her flesh leap with a life of its own. She frowned down at his brown fingers, in stark contrast to her pale skin.
“I was just thinking of home."
Connal withdrew his hand immediately, as if she were white hot. “That League rabbit-warren?”
She caught the disgust in his voice. “No, my home on Asaria. I left it years ago to pursue my career elsewhere."
“Why?"
“I just wanted to see more of the galaxy. I wasn't content to live among my people. There are some Asarians who travel. I was one of them. I enjoy meeting new beings, and seeing new things."
“There is much for you to see on Caledonia."
“Really?"
“Aye, if you could but open your mind to the possibility.” Connal frowned at her as she shook her head. “You are intractable."
“If I don't agree with you, why am I intractable? Are you so accustomed to having your way in all things?"
“Why do you insist that I am wrong in all things? We are alike, you and I, counselor."
“Only in our mutual stubbornness to disregard the other's point of view.”
They stared at one another, a shared realization silencing them.
Liandra turned away and walked to the first bush in what was a long row of similar plants growing along the length of the castle wall. She breathed in the sweet perfume of one large red bloom. “We've nothing to compare with this on Asaria. What is it?"
“A rose.” He smiled at her. “Have you finally found something here against which the League cannot compete? ’Tis a wonder you managed to tell me so, and not choke on your words.”
“The truth never hurt anyone. I always speak my mind.”
“So I have noticed.” Laughing, he bent down and removed a small knife from a sheath in his boot. Before Liandra could protest, he had cut the rose stem and handed the flower to her.
“You shouldn't do that Connal. You've killed it."
“It will last a few days in water. Take it as a gift from me."
Liandra breathed in the rose scent. “At home we keep our flowers in stasis, their fragrance is duplicated..."
Connal snorted. “Does the League have nothing real about it?"
“Of course. It's just that we respect all life. It's a crime to kill a beautiful thing for the sake of admiring it. However, thank you for the gift."
They walked side by side down the avenues of manicured gardens. The sights and sounds, the colors, and scents nourished Liandra's starved senses like a heady drug.
They came to the end of the garden and through the gateway she saw vast green fields and orchards. In the far distance were hills and further still, the dark snow-capped mountains. Everything was tinged a faint, blue-purple. The haze lent a mystical quality to the land, softening all with its subtle hue.
“What is that flower growing in the fields?” Liandra asked.
“Heather. ’Tis the emblem of Caledonia. I will have someone fetch a sprig for you."
“Thank you.” Liandra twirled the rose between her fingers and gasped in pain as something bit her. Glancing down she saw the droplets of blood on her hand.
“Thorns. I forgot to tell you about them,” Connal said.
Liandra studied the sharp barbs along the length of the rose's stem. The pain in her finger became secondary, as Connal took her hand to examine the wound. Liandra swallowed against her dry throat as his hand continued to hold hers, ostensibly to look at her injury, though as more time passed, she suspected he cupped her hand for other reasons. She liked the feel of his warm skin against hers. Liked it too much. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away.
“May I come to this garden when I wish?” Liandra asked.
“It is for all my people to enjoy."
But I'm not one of your people, she wanted to scream. She forced herself to keep silent. She appreciated Connal's kindness in showing her his home, although as always he had an ulterior motive. This time his aim was to show her that Caledonia was not barbarous, that there were things in the Castle and its grounds with which she could identify.
If it weren't for the circumstances that had stranded her on Caledonia, she might almost be content. She had never known true contentment. All her adult life she had constantly been on the move, looking for something, that even when she questioned herself, could not put a name to what she sought. Now, here, of all places, she felt something very close to finding that elusive, unidentifiable something for which she had yearned. Seven Stars, here. It was unthinkable.
“There is one thing I would a
sk of you, Liandra.” Connal's deep voice purred its way into her consciousness, drawing her back from her thoughts.
“Yes?"
“When you walk in my Castle, or its grounds, please robe yourself properly. As I said before, men are only flesh and blood. If you find Caledonian gowns distasteful, then at least wear the plaid shawl Fianna gave you. It is my own personal tartan. It identifies the wearer as being under the personal protection of MacArran."
“Very well."
Connal smiled. He opened his mouth to speak, but the crunching of gravel nearby alerted him to another's presence. He turned to see his Castellan standing indecisively at a distance.
“Ranald?"
“I need to speak to you, My Lord."
“Aye."
“Privately, if you will."
“I'll wait for you by the fountain,” Liandra said. Reaching the far end of the garden, she stood watching as the two men talked. A few minutes later, Connal resumed his place at her side.
“Business, I am afraid. I must be away. Still, there is no reason for you to return to your apartments. Stay here for as long as you wish."
“I'd like that."
“Will you need an escort back to your rooms?"
“I can find my way. Asarians have a keen sense of direction."
Connal laughed. “What about your Terran half?"
“It's always under control."
“Always?” he asked with a meaningful raise of his eyebrow.
“Except when I'm provoked beyond endurance."
Again Connal laughed, and she decided that she liked the sound of his laughter very much. Perhaps too much. Suddenly, this man was a stranger to her. Gone was the grim-faced barbarian. Now for a short time she had seen him gentle, happy. Relaxed. Almost a civilized gentleman.
She watched Connal stride swiftly away. She had never noticed before how his kilt hugged his lean hips, and now as he walked, the garish material swayed back and forth allowing a glimpse of lower thigh. Seven Stars! She swallowed down hard. That kilt of his! There ought to be a law against such a garment! He disliked the sexuality of the Asarian robe she had imaged on him, but his Caledonian clothes highlighted his body in a way no Asarian attire could do. Liandra laughed, feeling for the first time as if a great weight had been lifted from her mind.
A crunching of gravel underfoot drew Liandra's mind back to the present. Half turning, she expected to see Connal. Her smile froze on her face as she saw Jenna.
“The man is mine, you alien witch! Mine—do you hear? I will be thanking you to keep your eyes and hands away from him. Or you shall answer to me!"
“I have no designs on your mate,” Liandra said.
“'Tis not what I see."
“Please yourself, Maera Jenna. I have told you the truth."
“And I do not believe you."
“Excuse me,” Liandra said, icily. As she turned to go, Jenna reached out and grasped her wrist, wrenching her back painfully.
The rose fell from Liandra's fingers and Jenna stepped on the flower grinding it into the path.
“A final warning to you, alien bitch! Keep your distance from my lord, or you shall suffer the same fate as that rose. ’Tis a pity he has not the stomach to dispose of you, now that your usefulness is at an end. I cannot imagine why he insists on keeping you, like some exotic pet. You are much too thin and pale for his tastes!"
“I am pet to no one."
Jenna laughed. “In time you shall be. Connal can subjugate any creature to his will. Except me! That is why he favors me above every other."
“I understand..."
“Do you witch? For your sake I hope so! Should our paths cross again I will make you very sorry you ever came to Caledonia.”
“I was sorry the moment I first found myself on your world. I haven't any desire to remain here."
“Then jump from your window and end your miserable life. ’Tis the only way you shall be leaving Caledonia."
Liandra hurried away, retreating mentally and physically from Jenna's menace. Glancing back over her shoulder she saw the triumphant look on Jenna's face. Liandra fled to the castle, finally reaching the sanctuary of her apartment. Dougall was no longer there. His table and chairs had also been removed. Now, when she needed his protection, he had gone.
There was no doubt that Jenna would try every means at her disposal to rid herself of her imagined rival. Would she resort to murder?
No doubt at all. Jealousy had driven people the galaxy over to commit murder. Liandra had never thought she would gain first-hand experience of such emotional dysfunction.
“You have a lot to answer for Connal MacArran, for what I must endure!” she said to the cold walls.
Liandra locked her door, and leaning against it, summoned her strength and courage. No time to lose, the sooner she left Caledonia the better. First things first.
First she had to get a message to her father and then she would seek the protection of the Caledonian Council.
Alien invasions and a jealous woman's machinations! She was going to have to be careful—very careful.
CHAPTER TEN
Having quickly disposed of his business with the Castellan, Connal returned to the garden.
Disappointment welled up inside, as he saw Liandra was no longer there. He wanted to talk to her, for he found her interesting. More than interesting. There was a lot to like about her. Her soft voice, for one. Sometimes she mispronounced the Caledonian words; a tutoring machine was not infallible, but he could understand her. He enjoyed the stamp of individuality she put on her rendition of his native tongue. Despite his initial disdain, he enjoyed hearing about the League and her home, her life.
Did she have the right of it? Were Caledonians too insular? No! There were very good reasons why they remain hidden. The lessons of the past must not be forgotten.
Connal paused in mid-step as he saw the crushed flower. Sorrow, pain and anger twisted his gut, as he bent to retrieve the rose. Damn! He had hoped the witch was mellowing. Earlier, she had chatted happily with him. She had accepted his gift, appearing to be genuinely admiring of it. The realization that she had, again, deceived him made him angry, and desolate. He had thought he had made progress—had wanted, very much, to put aside hostilities. Damn you, witch! You make this harder than it need be.
Connal glanced up at the windows of her apartment before he turned on his heel and stalked from the castle. He needed to be on his own, far from his troubles. From one particular trouble. Truly she be a thistle under his kilt!
He saddled Dubhlan. Once mounted, he wheeled the horse around and headed out of the stable in a flurry of hooves and gravel.
* * * *
Puzzled, Liandra drew the curtains together. She had watched Connal in the garden, and although he had been heading towards the castle, for some reason he had gone, instead, to the stables. With a mixture of abhorrence and admiration she had watched the battle between Connal and his horse. Once mastering the animal, Connal had allowed it its head and it had galloped across the fields and was soon lost from view.
She shuddered. And he had offered to teach her to ride a horse? Not likely! She'd fall and break her neck. If Jenna didn't get her first.
Grimly, she walked to the bed and studied Fianna. Her aura, although a little wan, had normal colors. Liandra sat beside her friend, monitoring her for the remainder of the day.
In the evening Fianna awoke and stretched languidly. “Liandra ... I dreamed."
“I know. You've slept the day away."
“I have?"
“You needed to. I have refreshment waiting. The serving girls said these were your favorites."
Fianna sat upright in the bed, and Liandra put a tray across her knees.
“You are very kind to me, Mistress."
“Please, will you call me Liandra?"
“Aye, if you will call me Fianna."
Liandra smiled. “Thank you."
“I should be thanking you.” Fianna frowned. “I said my farewell
s to my beloved. I do not feel as bad. Was it the bed?"
“My bed merely enhance a person's natural ability to heal their own hurts."
“You sang to me."
“It's my way of treating you. All counselors have their special techniques."
“Much better than Katrine's monstrous tonics.” Fianna's smile was short-lived as she looked up at Liandra. “I am sorry for how things have worked out. Truly! If there was any other way, Connal would not keep you here against your will. He is not a cruel man."
“Oh, really?” Liandra smiled her disbelief.
“He loves his people. Perhaps too much. Otherwise would he have dared to risk so much to find Garris?"
“What do you mean?"
Fianna looked at Liandra over the rim of her teacup. “I have a loose tongue, that is my problem. Do not ask me to betray my chieftain."
“I won't. Tell me, does Connal rule Caledonia as diligently as the people in his Castle?"
“Connal is lord and master of County MacArran. ’Tis a great pity, that he does not govern our world. The Council does."
“The Council?” Liandra forced her voice to remain calm, a facade of polite interest, though inside her heart and mind whirled.
“Aye. Each County sends their chieftain and two other men to the Council. As Lord MacArran, Connal's place is at the head of the Council. However, no decision is made without a majority decision of those present."
“So your Council rules Caledonia? It's the same with the League Worlds. Representatives meet at Central. That's an artificial satellite in the exact center of League territory."
“Our Council meets every new moon at a different Castle. From there laws are passed, judgments made and grievances heard."
“We have similar on every League World. We don't take it in turns, there's a chamber specifically used for planetary council. League Central is where all members meet."
“Truly? I should like to see that. The MacLachlan's have the Council next month and I know Connal does not like their castle. Too gloomy for his tastes. Besides which Mistress MacLachlan has always had an eye for our Connal. She wants him to wed her youngest daughter. MacLachlan is not pleased, for Connal will have none of her."
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