But by the Seven Stars, he had never imagined it would hurt this much to let her go.
* * * *
Liandra flung herself on her bed and cried until she made herself sick. He hadn't asked her to stay. Did he loathe her that much? She was but the last in a long line of telepathic aliens. The horror of mind touching was an in-bred thing, from the time when Arran had suffered such.
And if Connal asked her to stay? In what capacity? As counselor to his people? As someone to warm his bed? She wanted—needed—much more than this from him. Yet he could give her nothing else. She knew that from his reaction to her in the cottage. He could not share his mind, though he had shared his body, loving her with such intensity it pained her to remember. Even if, somehow, she could convince him to mind-link, it would be something he would find abhorrent, given his heritage. He might come to resent her insistence, and resentment led to anger—to hatred. She would have to go, for both their sakes.
Connal would find a woman on this world whom he could love, who would be everything for him.
And you, Liandra? What will you do? She asked herself. She had touched his heart and soul, just for a moment in the cottage. It had not been a complete bonding, but it was enough for her to be forever his. Only half-joined, there would always be an emptiness within her which no other man could ever appease.
Liandra sobbed into her pillow, agony slicing her every cell. Somehow, she must survive. Inside, she felt ill and frightened. And inside, too, the little life she had touched that morning would grow and grow. Their child, from their night of folly.
How had it happened? Against all understanding and against the hormone implant, the best of League science, she carried his child. Even if she had foreseen the consequences, nothing would have stopped her from joining with Connal.
And Connal, how would be regard the fruit of their union—an alien telepath. No doubt he would spurn it. As he had spurned her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Liandra sat silently next to her father at Connal's high table. Neither the food nor the entertainment especially planned for the night held any interest for her. Her heather-colored velvet gown was the best the storeroom had to offer. She kept its Caledonian style. Her effort was in vain. After a curt nod of greeting from Connal, he ignored her completely.
She watched the interaction of Connal's people with the Asarians and Saurians. As she knew, Jenna had taken one look at Elion Feyr, and from that moment, the two had been inseparable. Elion was remaining behind on Caledonia, ostensibly to commence healing training, but already he and Jenna had bonded. On her cheek, Jenna wore the colors of his aura alongside her own. Liandra was happy for them, though their joyous bonding only made her sorrow the more acute.
“There is one thing I need to ask of you, Lord MacArran,” Alleron Tavor said.
“Aye?"
“Bronnia has a strange form of empathy, something I haven't encountered before. Have you never wondered why she was so clumsy? The other little things that were considered abnormal? She needs special training. I would like to take her home with me."
Connal nearly choked on his wine. “She is fosterling to MacArran. Are you certain she is telepathic? I was told she was slow-witted."
“Her abilities have been misunderstood and stifled,” Liandra said.
“Please allow her to accompany me. She wants to go very badly. Bronnia says she has no real family on Caledonia. Except her uncle...” Alleron shook his head. “Did you know her parents?"
Connal shrugged. “As for her father, I know not. Heather MacLeod kept herself aloof from every man. ‘Twas such a surprise to learn of her bairn. No man came forward to acknowledge the deed. Or its consequences.” He glanced at Liandra as she coughed. “Are you well, Mistress?"
Liandra nodded, her gaze averted. Connal frowned at her, again, as he watched her take a long gulp of wine.
“Bronnia's strangeness, then, was due to this empathy, and the abuse she suffered at the hands of her uncle?” Connal asked.
“Yes. Even if she had not suffered so, she would be different. It's because of who she is; a person with special abilities. What Bronnia requires isn't available on Caledonia. At least not yet,” Alleron said.
Connal glanced across the hall. The child was sitting on the lap of that horrific looking lizard. “She wants to leave?"
“Very much."
“And where will she live? With whom?"
Liandra smiled. “She will be in good hands, Connal. My mother and father will take her in as fosterling. She can come home to Caledonia any time she wishes."
“I will keep you appraised of her progress. We can visit often,” Alleron Tavor said.
Connal winced. Visit. Other kinfolk had said much the same to him. They'd come back home to “visit", but for them, home was no longer Caledonia. Home for them was amongst the stars.
Home for him was where his heart would be, also amongst the stars! Even Garris would be leaving soon, with Fianna. And Liandra, too. All those he loved the most. Seven Stars! Loneliness and sorrow cut deeply into his soul.
“Very well, if that is what she wishes, then she has my leave to go."
* * * *
Liandra steeled herself, mentally and physically, before she knocked on the door to Connal's chamber. Moments later the door swung open.
“My Lady Witch. What an unexpected pleasure."
It won't be for long, when you hear why I've come. “I need to speak to you Con."
“Then come in, unless you want to stand in the passageway.” Connal stalked to his desk and fidgeted with a stack of papers. “What would you say to me, Liandra?"
She swallowed down hard. “It concerns Bronnia."
He turned to her suddenly. She could not understand the play of emotions in his face, they reached her in swirling confusion, so tightly bound were they, she was unable to identify a single one.
“Bronni?” he said, hoarsely. “Go on."
“She begged me not to come to you, even though I explained I must, since you are her foster-father."
“What has happened?” He took a step towards her, then halted.
“When I helped her to pack, I noticed her doll was torn badly. Fianna began to mend it. We found this hidden inside.” Liandra held out her hand, palm up and Connal took the brooch from her. Inscribed on its back were the words Rob and Heather.
“This device is of clan MacLachlan,” Connal said.
“That's what Fianna said, too."
He frowned down at the brooch, thinking furiously. Rob and Heather? Rob! Was it possible? He brought back the long-suppressed memories of his friend.
Rob and Heather arguing in the garden. The two always fought like cat and dog. Sometime love must have overcome anger ... He closed his mind against that painful thought. Too close for comfort. He ran a finger over the brooch.
“Now that I have my wits about me, I realize Bronnia's eyes very much resemble Rob's."
“You knew him?"
“Oh aye. Very well. He died ten years ago."
“Bronnia is almost that age."
Connal nodded. “Do you remember when I told you of my father's accidental death? Several clansmen were killed in the same accident, along with Rob. They were returning from space in one of those infernal air ships. Trusting life and limb to a machine, no good would come of it—and it did not!"
“Hence your obsessive hatred of technology."
“'Tis any wonder? In that one day I lost my father and my best friend.” Connal smiled bitterly. “Chieftain MacLachlan was beside himself with grief. The only thing that stopped him from calling out his clan against mine was that my father died in the accident, which also killed his son. Up until that time our two families had been close."
“Why wouldn't Heather name Rob as Bronnia's father?"
“Because after the accident, there was much bitterness. The hostility is mellowed somewhat since then, but so soon after, MacArran was not a name mentioned in MacLachlan's halls. Heather was wise to ke
ep silent. Rob was a good man. Had he but lived...” Connal shook his head sadly. “Well, now I must tell MacLachlan he has a grand-daughter. And the child is more MacArran than she will ever be of his clan. He is not going to be pleased."
Liandra drew herself up to her full height. “That's what I want to talk to you about, Connal. You promised you'd allow her off-world."
“That was before I knew her pedigree."
“What little I saw of MacLachlan, it was enough to convince me he won't be the right sort of guardian. Just Fraser MacLeod in another guise."
“MacLachlan is her grand-father."
“She's your fosterling. But if that isn't enough, she's also a League citizen."
Connal's face went deathly pale. If those eyes were swords, she would have been cut to pieces by the intensity of his gaze. She stood her ground, with difficulty.
“What did you say?” Connal's voice was low and deadly.
“She has taken out League citizenship."
“Your suggestion, no doubt?” Connal folded his arms and frowned.
“No. You can thank Elexxessrr for his foresight."
“That scaly monstrosity? I will have his hide! This is clan business!"
Liandra laughed without humor. “Neither MacLachlan, nor even MacArran could stand up to a Saurian. They're warriors and defend kin and property to the death. Elexxessrr has named Bronnia. That's something like adoption. As she is his adopted, he'll tear anyone to pieces who might try and harm Bronnia."
“Is that so? I would cut that reptile down to size, for his interference, citizen of the League or no! Bronnia is of clan MacLachlan. Her heritage cannot be denied."
“She does not want it, at least not yet. Please, Con!” Liandra took a step towards him, hand outstretched. “Please try and understand. She is only now learning not to be afraid, to trust people. MacLachlan terrifies her. Bronnia needs much training but above all, love. She won't get anything from MacLachlan. She was sick with fear when she knew I was coming to speak to you."
“She was?”
His voice was quiet, almost gentle, and before he dropped his eyes, Liandra thought she caught a flicker in those steel-gray depths, which might have been a trick of the light, or a tear.
“Why did you come to me, then? You could have escaped off-world and none the wiser."
“I trust you to do the right thing for Bronnia."
Connal closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. “And what did Bronnia say when she knew her grand-father is Lord MacLachlan?"
“After I calmed her hysterics, she told me in no uncertain terms that she won't be going to MacLachlan, no matter what, because her allegiance is to her new family and the MacArran household."
Connal smiled in spite of himself. “Willful brat! I suppose you taught her that."
“As citizen of the League, she has choices. She exercises her right to decide her future."
“I presume you informed her of all her League rights?"
“As counselor I thought it my duty to advise her of her options."
He sighed. “I will tell MacLachlan. He arrives here, with the others, in less than a day for our Council meeting. It might be prudent to ensure that when he reaches my Castle, Bronnia is nowhere on Caledonia. Do you understand?"
“Yes. Thank you.” She touched his arm. Beneath her fingers she felt the warmth of his body, though he was shivering. “Con, you've chosen wisely. Thank you for trusting me.”
He snorted. “I will be the one to face MacLachlan's fury. Again!” He smiled grimly. “Well, I suppose I could agree to marry his daughter. MacLachlan would forgive me anything to have me as son-in-law."
His words were like a bucket of ice, chilling, tearing her breath from her. Liandra gasped and turning away, she all but ran out of his chamber.
Connal frowned and after watching her race down the corridor, he kicked the door closed. Striding to the window, he looked out. Marry Verana MacLachlan! He shuddered at the prospect. He would marry no woman. And clan duty be damned! He would find another way to placate MacLachlan. Arran's Mercy! Why was his life so complicated? And ever he knew the answer: Liandra.
He should not have agreed to her scheme. But how could he deny Bronnia her chance of a new life, a chance of happiness, such as was denied him? He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the cold glass of the window.
* * * *
Fianna threw her arms around Liandra's neck and sobbed.
“I thought you would stay with us awhile longer. Can you not?"
Liandra winced from her friend's embrace. “It'd be very difficult."
“And ... Connal?"
Liandra turned away. “He's said nothing."
“He has said nothing. It doesn't mean he is wanting you to go."
“He has his duty and responsibilities, as do I."
“I thought he cared for you."
“There's a difference between caring, and what I need from a man."
Fianna bit her lip and nodded. She wiped her hand across her eyes. “Aye, well you can blame his father for that. Connal would deny it, but the treatment he received from his father when he was a child, has always made it difficult for him to say what's in his heart."
“Not so, Fianna. I know he is fond of me."
“Only fond? I thought it more. ’Tis sorry I am.” She shook her head. “See here. I have gifts for you, from Garris and me, from others in the household. You must promise to come back one day."
“I will."
Liandra ran her hands over the gifts arrayed on her bed. The tartan shawl, the cookbook, a kilt, yards of fabric, a set of bagpipes, a brooch. Each gift represented the personality and interests of the giver.
“And Bronnia will be all right with your family?"
“She'll want for nothing. My parents will delight in having a child in their home again."
Liandra looked down at her shaking hands. Not just one child—soon there would be two children in her parent's house. She swallowed against the tears.
“What's wrong, darling, you look sick,” Fianna whispered.
Liandra smiled. “You talk more and more like an off-worlder."
“Garris's influence.” Fianna blushed. “But are you unwell?"
“Aye—yes. I hate good-byes."
Fianna burst into tears again, but she brushed them angrily aside as she pushed Liandra's farewell gifts into a bag made from MacArran tartan.
“Garris promises me that we'll visit you off-world. I long to see the stars, Liandra. I even look forward to seeing some more of those outlandish beasts which Bronni is so taken with."
“Saurians might look frightening, in reality they're very gentle."
“But they have such long claws and teeth."
“They're vegetarians.” Liandra managed a weak laugh.
The two women stepped out into the corridor. Dougall was waiting there and he took the bag from Liandra.
“Truly you be leaving then? “Tis a shame. Fianna can you not convince her?"
“She promises to come back, and you can always go off-world and visit."
Dougall grimaced. “I be too old to go gallivanting around the galaxy.”
Liandra and he stared at one another. She had the distinct impression he was trying to say something, which he found very difficult. His eyes glistened with tears.
“You will come back to Caledonia, Mistress, or I shall go off-world and bring you back!” he choked out.
“I promise to visit."
“'Tis not what I meant, I—My Lord!” Dougall's stricken face was suddenly bright.
Liandra turned to see Connal striding stiffly down the corridor, his face set, that square jaw of his clenched formidably.
“So ’tis farewell, My Lady Witch?” he said, softly.
Dougall took Fianna's arm and ushered her down the corridor.
“A word in private Liandra, if you will.” Connal drew her inside her chamber and closed the door. He looked at her for so long and so hard that Liandra fidgeted
beneath his steely stare.
He handed her a small velvet case and a tartan satchel. “I brought you these gifts, Liandra. Though I see by the bag Dougall carries, others have also given you farewell tokens."
“Yes.”
Opening the satchel, she gasped in shock as she drew out a small dagger, its hilt decorated in an intricate leaf and star design. A tiny, glittering crystal lay at the center of each star.
“I know you are not overly fond of weaponry, but I thought this might remind you that all the science of the League is no match for loyalty and love. Our weapons symbolize honor and friendship."
Liandra smiled, blinking back her tears. His words cut like a knife—how ironic that his gift should be a dagger.
“And now the other gift,” Connal said.
Opening the velvet case, Liandra drew out a necklace even more beautiful than the one he had given her before. From the silver band, a tier of perfect crystals formed the shape of an inverted pyramid. At the apex of the design hung one large crystal, multi-faceted and sparkling with every hue of a Caledonian rainbow.
“It's very beautiful, Con."
He smiled. “When you wear it, think of us. I hope you will forgive me the way I treated you when we first met. I was quite a beast. A—barbarian!"
Liandra smiled. “That you were Connal MacArran. I forgave you long ago."
“And this, also for you.” He pushed a book into her hands. “I never did finish reading Fire on the Heather to you. Perhaps you can train one of your servitors to speak Caledonian."
“Con...” She reached out to him.
He took her hand and raised it to his lips, a tender caress that turned her inside out. He held her hand between his own and stared down at her. “Farewell My Lady Witch,” his whisper was barely audible.
“Con,” she said, shakily. “I want you to have this.” She slipped her Asarian fire-ring from her finger and taking his hand, she placed it on his palm, closed his fingers with hers. “When you look at it, remember me—fondly. If you can!” Liandra did not look backwards as she sped away.
Connal watched as she hurried down the passageway. I will remember you more than fondly, my beloved, for you are my heart and soul!
No! This was not how it should end. Perhaps he could persuade her to remain, just for a while longer. He took a step after her.
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