by Laura Landon
“Do na fight the Cochrans, Iain,” she said, her voice soft yet confident. “They do na want to fight.”
Iain stared at her, unable to believe she’d just said such foolishness. “Go!” he repeated, then brushed past her as he continued on his way toward the battlements. He kept his strides long and determined while his gaze scanned the readiness of his warriors.
“Iain, please. They do na want to fight.”
A sharp pain gripped him and he gritted his teeth and squinted his eyes to shut out the agony. He needed to stay in control until this day was over. The pain eased and he spun around to face her. “We have done nothing. The Cochrans came here armed and ready for battle.”
“Talk to them first. Please.”
“Roderick has already talked to them. Evidently his efforts went unheeded.”
“Talk to them yourself.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Go to your chambers! I do na want to have to worry over you, too.”
He turned her toward the keep and gave her a firm nudge. He couldn’t believe she wanted him to go out to talk to the Cochrans. They were here to make war.
She took a step forward then stopped and spun back around. “Do na fight them, Iain. Bloodshed can be avoided. Listen to me,” she said louder, her words taking on a desperate tone. “Please. They do na want to fight.”
Iain glared hard at her. “How can you know that?”
She lifted her chin. “I just do. Peace between you and the Cochrans is too important. Do na risk losing all without first trying.”
He stared at her, unmoving, their gazes battling doubt and indecision.
“Trust me. Please,” she whispered.
He held his breath as if she’d knocked the air from his lungs but he refused to drop his gaze while he considered her words. Dear God, he wanted her to be right. The confusion pounded in his head as he weighed what she asked.
She took a step closer to him. “They do na want to fight. I know it.”
He considered the possibility that she may be right. If there was even the slightest chance… He gave his answer with a mighty shout. “Donald! Lochlan! Come wi’ me.”
With long, measured strides, the three warriors made their way to the stables where their mighty steeds awaited them. They mounted, then rode toward the gate, meeting Roderick just before the drawbridge. He charged toward them, spewing a cloud of dust when he pulled his mount to a halt.
“In the name of God, Iain! Pull the drawbridge! You are under attack! The Cochrans have come armed.”
Iain continued on his way through the open gate. “I must talk to them.”
“Have you gone mad! Stand and fight!”
“I canna. I must first find out the reason I am fighting. We have been friends with the Cochrans from our youth. I’ll know why they want to spill our blood before I sacrifice so many years of friendship.”
“Fool! It is our chance to destroy the Cochrans and you are going to let the opportunity slip through our grasp.”
“Nay!” Iain bellowed and all movement close by came to a halt. “Do na say more, Roderick. I am your laird and I have made my decision. You can ride at my side and give your support or you can stay here. The choice is yours to make.”
Without a backward glance, Iain rode beneath the portcullis and across the drawbridge with Donald and Lochlan at his left.
There was a slight hesitation, then Roderick rode after them, taking his place on Iain’s right. Iain breathed a sigh of relief. The thought that Roderick might choose to stay behind burned like the festering of an open wound.
Iain rode forward, stopping on the crest of a small hillock that separated them from the Cochrans. He waited, taking comfort in Donald’s relaxed confidence, ignoring the uneasiness of Roderick’s agitation as he fisted his hand around the hilt of the sword at his side. Iain told himself that Roderick had cause to feel nervous. He’d just left the Cochrans. He knew their mood and how close they were to fighting.
Iain watched Angus Cochran ride toward them with his three sons at his side. The looks on their faces bespoke their anger. He felt his chance to achieve peace diminish when they rode near and stopped. It would be a miracle if a battle could be avoided this day.
“Am I right in assuming you have ridden on MacAlister land with war as your intent, Angus?” Iain kept an even tone to match the strength in his voice.
“That should come as no surprise to you, MacAlister. If you did na want war between us, you should not have destroyed our fields and homes.”
“You are sure it was the MacAlisters?”
“Do na try to convince us it was not. Your brother already spoke his denials on your behalf.”
“But you did na believe him?”
“The Cochrans may desire peace at all cost, but we are na fools. We can see who would benefit from controlling the land on your side as well as ours. Even the Sinclairs and the Macleans and the MacPhearsons fear you have become too ambitious and will threaten them next.”
Iain sat back in his saddle and surveyed the land before him, MacAlister land. Land he loved as dearly as the people who lived on it. He would do anything to keep it. He would do more to ensure peace.
He let the long silence stretch taut between them like the tension of a bow pulled back to release its arrow. He made sure he’d gained the attention of all before he spoke. “Angus. Nothing is more important to me than peace. I give you my word as laird of clan MacAlister, I did na give an order to burn your crops or the properties of your people.”
“And what of the cattle that were stolen last eve? Do you claim na knowledge of that either?”
Iain could not hide the surprise from his face. “I did na know cattle had been stolen.”
“Lies!” Angus bellowed. “The thieves wore the MacAlister plaid. My sons saw them.”
Iain felt the anger boil within him. What was going on here? Who hated him and his clan enough to put blame on them, knowing it would cause war? He pushed back Màiri’s words as if they had never been spoken.
“If a MacAlister was responsible,” Iain said, trying desperately to ignore the pounding in his head, “the deed was done without my knowledge. I swear to you, had I known, I would have given my life to stop the traitor.”
Iain studied the hostile expression on Angus Cochran’s face, hoping for a sign that he believed him. Màiri had been so sure. She’d been so confident that the Cochrans wanted peace as badly as he, but the longer Angus Cochran stared at him without answering, the more convinced he was that he’d been a fool to listen to her. Hadn’t she leveled the wild accusation that Roderick could be the one behind all the trouble?
Angus Cochran finally spoke. “I do na want to see our Scottish hills littered with dead Scottish lads any more than you, Iain. Maybe it is my desire for peace that blinds me to your lies. Maybe it is because I value the many years of friendship we shared, but I will believe your words today.”
A wave of relief washed over him. “I give you my word, Angus. I did na order the destruction.”
“If I find you have played me the fool, MacAlister, I will be back. And when I come, I will na be alone. A man is only as good as his word, and if the Macleans and Sinclairs and MacPhearson’s find out you have lied, they will na hesitate to ride at my side.”
Angus Cochran pulled hard on his reins and rode back up the hillock with his sons surrounding him.
Iain did not move until the last Cochran warrior was out of sight then turned his steed around and galloped toward the castle as if he could outrun the confusion and frustration building within him. He wanted to shout to the heavens. Demons still threatened his quest for peace, but war had been avoided this day. The pain in his head exploded with renewed vengeance.
“Donald,” he yelled, pulling his horse to a halt when they reached the stables. Farlay stood waiting and Iain threw him his reins. “Locate the place where the Cochran cattle were stolen. You and I will ride there tomorrow to see what we can find.”
Roderick jumped t
o the ground and dropped his reins. “I will go, Iain—“
“Nay. I will look myself. Someone is trying to cause a war between us, Roderick. They have burned crops and stolen cattle. I want to know who hates us so much.”
Roderick did not give up. “Perhaps I can—“
“Nay! They are the same bastards who tried to kill me. I want to know who they are. You stay here and train the men. If we do na find the traitors, we will need all our skill to fight the warriors Angus brings with him the next time he comes.”
Iain slapped his fist against his thigh and stormed across the bailey. Another niggling question ate away at him. A question to which only his wife had the answer.
. . .
From her vantage point high on the battlement, Màiri watched the Cochrans ride away. She released the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. It was over. War had been avoided.
The cheers she heard from all watching with her suffocated her.
“How did you know, mistress?” a voice shouted from beside her. “How did you know the Cochrans did na want to fight?”
What had she done? Never before had she relied so on her gift. Never before had she put so much faith in what her gift told her that she would put a life in harm’s way. Iain’s life.
A cold chill shook her body and she clutched the MacAlister plaid around her shoulders and ran for her chambers. She needed to be alone. She needed to release the pent-up anxiety and worry and fear she’d felt and hide from the staring gazes of everyone around her.
She pushed open the heavy door to the keep and ran up the stairs to her chambers. The moment she was alone, she leaned her back against the door with a shuddered a sigh. They all knew she had convinced their laird to walk into harm’s way. Now they would want to know why she’d been so sure he would return alive.
Màiri paced her chambers, pulling the tartan tighter to keep off the chill. It was the middle of summer and she was as cold as if there were a foot of snow on the ground. She knew now it was impossible for her to ignore her gift. She could not let a tragedy happen. And that made her as vulnerable as her mother had been.
This is what her mother must have felt. What she had warned Màiri about. But how could she have let Iain ride into battle when her gift told her there was a way to avoid bloodshed?
Màiri fisted her hands at her side and waited. She’d broken every promise she’d made to herself to keep her gift hidden, but she could not regret the choice she’d made. Her gift was as much a part of her as her green eyes and the upturned tilt of her nose. As much a part of her as the love she felt for the man she’d saved from dying all those months ago then married. Her gift was good. She would never regret she possessed it or be ashamed of having it. No matter what.
But she could never let him know she possessed it. She would lose him when he found out.
She listened to Iain’s heavy footsteps coming toward their chambers and turned to face him. He flung open the door, stepped through it, and closed it behind him. Her heart rejoiced in her breast when she saw him standing safe and unharmed in front of her.
“How did you know the Cochran’s did na want war?” He spoke the words with a softness that revealed his curiosity. He wanted to understand.
Màiri lifted her chin and looked him in the eyes. She clutched her hands in front of her to keep from touching him, just once more before… “I just knew.”
The look on his face said he did not understand. His words confirmed it.
“But what made you so sure?”
“It was something I sensed. You said over and over the Cochrans wanted peace as badly as you. I sensed that was true and reminded you of it.” She turned to look out the window to the bailey below. Life at Iain’s keep went on as before. There were women working in the gardens, warriors training in the practice area, cooks busy in the kitchens, and Farlay walking Iain’s steed to cool him down. Nothing had changed.
Everything had changed.
“Tell me how you could have been so sure.”
Màiri took a deep breath. “I just was. There are some things I just know.”
Iain’s long strides covered the space between them, bringing him next to her. “Ah, lass,” he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pulling her close until her back rested against his chest. “The longer I know you, the less I understand you.”
“Is it so important that you understand, Iain?” she asked, turning in his arms. He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand and rubbed his thumb over her lips. Just having him touch her made every inch of her body shiver in anticipation.
“Nay, lass. There is very little I understand about myself when I’m with you. You have a strange power over me.”
“Nay! I have na power over you. Never think I do.”
The expression on his face told her he did not understand such a strong reaction to his admission.
“Did Roderick—”
He pressed his finger over her lips to quiet her. “Hush, lass. We’ll na talk of Roderick.”
She looked into his eyes and saw the denial in his gaze. Whatever secret Iain harbored about Roderick was evident in his refusal to even talk about him.
To make sure she did not say more, Iain lowered his mouth and kissed her. Flaming heat spread from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. Every inch of her burned with desire. His fingers touched her, caressed her, moved over her flesh with a desperation that stole her breath.
“Ah, Iain,” she gasped when he lifted his lips. He answered her plea by kissing her again with more passion than before, then pushing the clothes from her shoulders and following her down on the bed. His naked flesh atop hers sent fiery shivers racing to the pit of her stomach, then lower to that special place aching to be filled.
“I want it to always be like this,” Iain said as he held her close and took her.
Màiri had no answer for him. There was too much ahead of them for her to know. She prayed he would trust her but she could not let him deny the threat Roderick presented too much longer.
She could not deny her gift.
. . .
Muted shades of pink and violet and blue seeped through the shadowy darkness to announce the coming of dawn. The assortment of soft hues held all living things captive and breathless, waiting for reality to intruded with its brightness. Iain looked down at Màiri’s small body nestled against his and wished he could stop the world from coming between them. But that was not possible.
His world and everything he’d worked so long and hard to accomplish was crumbling around him. His goal for unity and peace appeared less attainable than ever. He had barely avoided war with the Cochrans yesterday. Even in his own keep, underlying dissension eroded the cohesiveness he struggled to achieve. Peace and harmony seemed more remote than ever. Only a laird both blind and deaf could miss the small faction dividing his warriors, the dozen or so warriors whose contentious aggression seemed bent on undermining his authority.
And Màiri had accused Roderick of being the culprit.
Cold, gnarled fingers squeezed the air from his chest. It could not be Roderick. It could not. Yet, what reason would Màiri have for accusing him? How could she dislike him so much she would want to blame him? There was so much about her that was still such a confusion. So much he wanted to understand, but could not. Like how she knew with such certainty that the Cochrans had not come to make war.
He lifted his hand and smoothed back a strand of Màiri’s dark, mahogany hair, exposing the slim lines of her shoulders and the fullness of her breasts. He was sure God had never created such beauty as this. Only Adele had been so. . . Another cold shiver raced through him.
Màiri reached out to touch him, her healing fingers stretching lazily over the flesh on his chest. The heat that raged through him stirred a need to have her. To sink himself deep within her. To share with her the passion she gave so freely. Oh, he’d come to care for her too much. More than he could protect himself against.
She raised hers
elf up on one elbow and traced her finger across his forehead. “I wish I could erase all the worry you try to hide from the world, but I canna.” She moved her finger down the side of his face, following the contours of his lips as if memorizing their features. “There is nothing I can do except try to keep you safe.”
Iain watched her eyes cloud with dark determination and he frowned even more. Even though she was strong both on the inside and out, it was ridiculous to think someone so small thought she could protect him. With a heavy sigh, he gave in to his baser needs. He raked his fingers through her thick hair and brought her head down until her lips covered his. In one quick movement, he wrapped his arm around her lithe body and pinned her beneath him.
The road he traveled was no longer straight and well-defined. There was a fork ahead, with Màiri standing at the juncture on the right and Roderick on the left. For the first time in his life, he was not sure which way to go.
Roderick had never given him cause to doubt him. He was his brother, his brother by blood. The bond that connected them was too strong to be broken.
Yet, he could not bear to think Màiri meant to cause a division between them. Could not believe she meant to deceive him with lies, and leave his life a shattered empty shell…
…like Adele had almost done.
. . .
Màiri watched from the top step of the keep as Iain and Donald rode off to the place where the Cochrans claimed their cattle had been stolen. She knew already it was doubtful they would find anything. If Roderick was behind this too, she knew he’d been careful enough not to leave one shred of evidence behind.
She shoved her hands into the pockets of her overdress and walked through a small exit against the side of the curtain wall. The early morning summer sun shone warm and bright and she lifted her face to its warmth and walked aimlessly across the meadow. The heather bloomed a blanket of pale purple flowers, the oak and hazel and beech trees provided a refreshing shade, each tree full and green. Dandelions added to the beauty with a variety of deep golden yellow. Nowhere was it more beautiful than here, the place that was her home.