Highland Sons: The Mackay Saga

by Connors, Meggan

  With deft footing, she traveled the path, avoiding the uneven stepping stones and brambles that reached out to snag her clothing. She let him catch up, and when she glanced at him, he thought he saw both joy and sadness in her face. “The gardens were beautiful once.”

  “Aye, in recent years we’ve not been able to spare the men. This war has brought more than the gardens to a sorry state. ‘Twill take more than your mother’s way with plants to bring them back.”

  “I’d not be so sure. My mother has a gift.”

  “Is that anything like your gift with the wolf?”

  She stood very still. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, I dismissed your ability to calm your mare—she was known by you. But that wolf was a wild animal in pain.”

  “He knew I was there to help.”

  “Did it now? And how would it have known that?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Her earnest expression and beautiful violet eyes seemed to beg him to understand. But her explanation didn’t make sense.

  “I’ve known how to approach animals since I was a child. Each animal is different. Most people forget that.” She gave a slight shrug. “I don’t.”

  “I’m not sure I understand. I work with animals every day, but I’d never seen one act like that wolf.”

  “Aye, but do you really see them? It’s much the same way with my mother. She can tell what a plant needs from looking at it, and because of her care, the plant will flourish.” She reached a hand out to him, then dropped it and shook her head. “You should be honored, ‘tis more than people you care for on Mackay lands.”

  “You’d increase my burden?” It was enough to have a duty to his clan, let alone the land and animals.

  “Nay. Caring for them ‘tis not a burden.”

  Her face lit with mischief, making him forget what they were talking about. He shook his head. Something about animals.

  “Let me show you.” She took his hand and drew him to the back of the garden, bordering the wilderness area. Several thistles had gone to seed. She retrieved a handful of the seeds, then held her palm and fingers very flat. “Now, I’d ask you to stand here, and be very still.”

  After moving away from him, she raised her hand above her head and made a whistling sound. At first nothing happened, then he noticed finches gathering in the area. Before long, they perched on the edge of her palm, pecking at the seeds.

  One of the tiny birds landed on her shoulder. She grinned at the creature as it clung to her plaid. “Wee John, ‘tis glad I am to see you.”

  Wee John? She’d named the birds as well? He’d never met anyone like her. It wasn’t her beauty, but her face alight with wonder that had him holding his breath.

  He used to find joy in nature as a boy—before his father’s death forced him to manhood. But even then, he didn’t posses the pure emotion he saw on her face.

  The seed was gone, but the one finch stayed on her shoulder. Kenzie lowered her hand, peered at Bane with devilment brimming in her eyes, then laughed. “You should see your face.”

  She motioned him over. “I’d like you to meet Wee John.” With her index finger she stroked the bird’s head. “His mother was killed, so I watched over him till he could take care of himself. I’d not thought to see him again.”

  Bane came to stand beside her. He could have sworn the bird gave him a reproving glare before it departed. “And the other birds?”

  She gazed up into his face and shrugged. “They were hungry. I knew that, and they didn’t fear me.”

  The intensity of her expression made him uneasy. It was as if she could force him to make sense of her actions. “I’m trying to understand.” He closed the space between them. “You’re asking me to accept something I can’t explain.”

  “Not everything needs to be explained.”

  “True.” He smoothed back her hair, cupping the side of her face with his hand. Her skin felt silky against his palm. She smelled of wildflowers and heather, combined with a darker fragrance that spoke of the earth. “For instance, how would you explain this?”

  Her eyes widened slightly, just before his lips claimed hers. At first she didn’t respond, as though she didn’t know what to do. Then her hands traveled up his chest until she grasped his shoulders and pressed against him.

  He deepened the kiss, molding his mouth and body to hers. This was madness. He barely knew her. But a wildness surged in him, making him forget everything but the woman in his arms.

  His lips trailed downward, exploring the sweet hollow at the base of her neck. Bane drew her against his length, as his mouth claimed hers once again. Breathing became a labored activity to match the rapid beating of his heart.

  When Kenzie began to shove against his shoulders, he took a moment to realize what she was about. His control teetered on a fine edge, until he forced himself to break the kiss. Lord above, what had come over him?

  With her hand to her mouth, Kenzie stepped back. He could see terror in her eyes, much like a hare cornered by the hounds.

  “I’m sorry.” Kenzie wrapped her cloak close to her body, then turned and ran back toward the castle.

  He’d kissed many a lass, and not one had had that reaction to him. The kiss had surprised even him in its intensity, but it shouldn’t have inspired fear. Instead of solving the mystery surrounding her, he had more questions. He’d give her this night to rest, but tomorrow he’d know why she faced a wolf without hesitation, but his kiss terrified her.

  Kenzie stumbled along the path, blinded by tears. She’d never allowed a man to touch her like that. Why him of all people?

  A laird—and she’d responded. Her stomach clenched.

  He’d smelled of leather and spice. The combination created an intoxicating aroma, but that was no excuse for kissing him back. Mayhap it was because he made her feel safe?

  That is, until she realized what she was about. He hadn’t demanded, and he’d released her when she’d struggled, but she should never have allowed him such liberties. Her jaw set and she squared her shoulders. ‘Twas best to avoid him while they were in the castle.

  She came to a sudden halt when she entered the great hall. Several of Bane’s men sat on benches near the fire, but glanced up when she came in.

  Every one of them stared, watching her as she moved about the room. Goose bumps raised on her arms. She reached for her hood, but she’d left her cape in the solar.

  Feeling exposed, she kept her head down. Why is it their leader never made her feel like she needed to hide, or was simply something to be possessed? She turned away from them and studied the other end of the cavernous room.

  Bane’s mother sat by a small table, a beautiful young woman by her side. The girl had long red hair, fine features, and skin with the dewiness of Lady’s Mantle in the morning. Kenzie felt colorless next to her, yet none of the men had even glanced at the redhead. Judging from the slight thinning of the beauty’s lips, she’d noticed.

  Kenzie approached Lady Mackay. “Have you seen my mother?”

  The older woman glanced up. “Ah, Kenzie. Nay, I’ve not seen her, but I’d like you to meet Maggie McDelavin.” She set aside her embroidery. “Maggie, Kenzie and her mother are staying with us until their cottage can be repaired.”

  Maggie took so long studying Kenzie that she felt like the prize sheep at the fair.

  “Indeed. And how long might the repairs take?” Maggie’s voice held the cold of the moors in winter.

  “We’re not sure.” Kenzie recognized jealousy; she’d seen enough of it from village women. Which man here did Maggie think of as her own? Whichever one, Kenzie had best avoid him.

  Maggie’s attention shifted, her eyes narrowing as she assessed someone behind Kenzie.

  “And I’d thought not to see you again.”

&
nbsp; Kenzie whipped around at the sound of the oily voice. The Witch Pricker. What would he be doing here?

  The witch hunter smiled and inclined his head. “I see you remember me. Good. And from what I overheard, you’ll be staying a while. How fortunate. Laird Mackay has also offered me his hospitality.”

  Cold enveloped her, and she smoothed her skirt against her thigh. How could Bane have allowed a man like this to stay under his roof? Didn’t he realize the trouble he could cause? “I doubt we will have the opportunity to get to know one another. Lady Mackay has asked us to help restore the gardens.”

  “Very considerate of you. But, surely your evenings will be your own. I look forward to spending time with you.”

  “If you’ll excuse me. My mother needs help unpacking our things.” She brushed by him and headed up the stairs to the solar.

  “Until later then.”

  The witch picker’s voice trailed after her as she ascended the stairs. Her plan to avoid Bane for the next few days had seemed so simple. Now she’d have to search the laird out, and find some way to convince him that Robert McGown couldn’t stay. If he did, she had no doubt there would be trouble. Bane thought he controlled his clan, but he’d never seen peaceful villagers turn into a superstitious mob.

  She had.

  Chapter 4

  Kenzie searched the training field in the dim light of the new day. Was Bane wont to practice this early? She’d not slept much last eve and hoped to speak with him at his morning meal, but he’d already left.

  Flashes of red and blue swirled as the men’s kilts danced with each parry and thrust of their deadly short swords. Mist curled around their ankles, giving the impression that they were not of this earth. Only the clanging of the weapons could be heard in the still morning, adding to the eerie effect.

  Kenzie swallowed. Men or no, she needed to speak with Bane. Unease nipped at her like a wildcat herding her kitten. She’d not remain here with McGowan at the castle.

  In spite the confusion on the field, Bane’s imposing form drew Kenzie’s gaze. His large frame and regal bearing left no doubt about his role as leader.

  He stood near a stone wall that edged the practice area, and appeared to be in earnest conversation with two of his men. Though they were at the far end of the field, she still made out the downward turn of his brows. Mayhap this wasn’t the best time to speak with him, but she didn’t dare tarry. Her mother agreed that if McGowan stayed, they should depart by mid-day.

  As she made her way along the outside edge of the wall, one of the fighting men glanced in her direction. His opponent chose that moment to advance. The blade’s tip swept across the distracted man’s chest, cutting through his white shirt. With a yell, the victim jumped back. Too late. His eyes were wide as he glanced down at the drops of blood and slash in his clothing.

  The fighting stopped.

  Bane strode across the field, his kilt slapping his knees in his haste. He stopped a few feet from the skirmish. “McAdam, what were you about? Your like to get yourself killed.”

  Everyone followed the injured man’s gaze as it came to rest on her. If Bane’s expression had been unhappy before, it grew thunderous before he turned back to his clansman. “It takes but a comely lass to bring you to your knees?” Bane clenched his hand over the hilt of the sword at his waist. “Sutherland and his clan need only send out their prettiest lasses to defeat us?”

  McAdam’s petulant voice carried across the field. “She’s more than a beauty. She draws a man’s eye like a bee to honey.”

  “‘Tis dead you’ll be if you allow any distractions.” Bane came to stand near her before continuing. “Each day, for as long as she’s here, Lady McCleod will visit the training field.”

  The murmurs started with McAdam and rippled through the men. Emboldened by the support, the injured man drew himself up and faced Bane. “I’ll not have her here.”

  “Will you not?” Though quiet, Bane’s words held menace. “Are you challenging me then?”

  The man’s face lost some color, but his voice carried arrogance. “Aye.”

  “Very well. To first, or in your case, second blood.” Bane crossed to the wall, stripped off his shirt, and left it on the stone.

  Kenzie tried to moisten her mouth, but in spite of swallowing several times, her efforts were in vain. He’s beautiful. Perhaps that wasn’t the right word. Two scars marred a spot near his belly button, but the muscled expanse of his chest looked as though it had been made for war.

  Or love.

  She put a hand to her throat. What was the matter with her? She should be looking away, but he held her captive with his fluid grace. He moved with the assurance of a predator. Danger became tangible in the set of his jaw and narrowing eyes, which at that moment were the color of a turbulent storm-tossed loch.

  Bane faced off against his clansman, his sword whipping through the air as he flexed his wrist. At an unspoken sign, the two men came together, their blades ringing as they fought.

  Right from the start Bane had more skill, and his muscles bunched and lengthened with practiced movements. The confrontation had the strangest effect on her. At one point, she realized she’d forgotten to breathe. Heat curled through her, despite the coolness of the morn.

  Bane never once glanced in her direction, so she felt no apprehension about staring at him as he fought. Odd, the battle didn’t worry her overmuch. As their leader, he would never kill one of his own men. This was a challenge to his authority, and from the look of determination on his face, he had no intention of losing. But it wasn’t his face that she couldn’t turn away from.

  What would it be like to have the right to run her hands over his body, exploring the contours? No doubt, he’d have an iron control over his desire, just as he controlled everything in his life. But what if his beast was free, would his passion ignite? She shivered. Would she be able to match the power she felt in him?

  With a start, she realized the battle had ended. McAdam’s arm showed an angry red welt that matched the wound on his chest. In spite of his injuries, he glared at her as he left the training field.

  She raised her chin, then dared to look at Bane. He stood, sword in hand, staring at her. His chest heaved, and some of his hair had come loose from its cue, adding to his untamed appearance.

  His compelling eyes were banked embers as they narrowed on her. She felt his challenge to the tips of her toes.

  With a catch in her throat, she turned and ran.

  ‘Twas the second time she’d run from him. Bane sheathed his weapon and drew the shirt over his head. He couldn’t let this continue.

  With long strides he covered the distance to the castle and entered the Great Hall. “I’m looking for Lady McCleod.”

  Maggie straightened from strewing rushes on the floor. “Laird Mackay, won’t you stay and have a cool tankard of ale?” She smiled, then bent low to pour the drink, her neckline exposing the tops of her breasts. As Maggie extended the cup, she used the tip of her tongue to moisten her mouth. The invitation used to flatter him, until he’d discovered ‘twas his position and power she found enthralling.

  Bane waved away the drink and grasped his sword hilt. “Nay. I’ve an urgent matter with Lady McCleod.”

  Maggie set the cup on the table. Her voice held the ice of winter. “Very well. Last I saw her, she was running toward the stable.”

  Bane rushed from the room, his heart pounding. She wouldn’t be foolish enough to ride out alone.

  Would she?

  Kenzie pressed her nose against the stallion’s neck. In a stable filled with animals, of course she would be drawn to his horse. Her fingers combed the silky black mane in a rhythmic pattern.

  “He’s not for me.” She leaned back and looked the horse in the eye. “You understand that, don’t you, Night?”

  �
�Nay, he does not. And neither do I.”

  She whirled, falling back against the large animal. “Laird Mackay.”

  “Bane. When we’re alone, I want you to use my given name.”

  He came to a stop but a foot away, so that she had to look up to meet his gaze. They stood that way for long moments. Kenzie was afraid to move, afraid to breathe for fear of breaking the spell. Why didn’t he simply kiss her? His eyes told her he wanted to, and wrong as it may be, she wanted him as well.

  He placed his hands along the back of the stallion, one on each side of her head, embracing her without touching. “Why do you run?”

  “Because, I . . . Mayhap, I’m not used to kisses.” She ducked under one of his arms and crossed to the feeding trough.

  He turned, but didn’t follow her. “Aye. I’ll believe that, but ‘tis something else your not telling me.”

  So he didn’t like her kiss? Well, she’d never kissed a man before. See if she’d kiss him again.

  And as for the other.

  Cold seeped into her soul at the thought. “I do not like to think about it. Besides, it shouldna matter now.”

  “The past always matters.”

  “Mayhap, I was but a wee bairn, barely 5 summers when the men came to our cottage. ‘Twas a long time ago.” She could still remember every detail of their appearance, the stench of whiskey filling the tiny room, the lust in their eyes as they gazed at her mother. Both men were members of their clan.

  Bane crossed his arms and waited. It was his lack of expression that allowed her to continue.

  “Mama made me hide in a trunk, but I could see through a knot hole.” Her fingertips dug into her palms. “I tried not to look. They kept calling her ‘witch.’ Laughing that they were sending her back to the devil.” She met Bane’s gaze. “They hurt her. After they left I tried to help, but there was so much blood.” She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling, then took a deep breath, expelling it slowly. “We ran the next day. I guess we’ve been running ever since.”