From The Deep

by From the Deep (anthology) [lit]

  "Find my brother quickly, MacEwan. Then we can get onto more pleasant matters." Her eyes held a wealth of promise, promise which MacEwan was certain he would have anticipated with more pleasure only a day ago.

  "Unless...." She paused and looked up at him from beneath her lashes, "Unless you’d like to have a wee sample now, just to see if we suit?"

  He raised one questioning eyebrow, which she must have taken as agreement, for she took his hand and began to pull him toward a corner of the garden where there stood a small shed used for drying of the root crops.

  "I do think we suit, MacEwan," she whispered as she led him to the shed’s farthest, darkest corner. "You are an ambitious man who will one day be leader of his clan and I, I am a woman fit to rule beside such a powerful chieftain." As Tyra spoke, she slid her hands up his arms until they came to rest behind his neck. "Dinna you want a wee taste of what’s to come once we are wed?"

  Her lips were already moving toward his, her breasts pressing into his chest, and her hips into his loins before he could answer. Whatever suspicion had brought him to the garden to question her was forgotten when she captured his mouth and thrust her tongue deeply inward. At the same moment her hips began a slow circular rhythm against his crotch.

  Though his mind and his heart were in the gentle hands of another, he would not insult the laird’s daughter’s dignity by pushing her away. Let her take her kiss and then he would--

  His breath caught. She had dug her fingernails into his bare buttocks.

  When the devil had her hands crept beneath his kilt?

  As she moved against him in front and alternately kneaded and nicked him from behind, MacEwan felt his self control slipping away.

  She was to be his wife. Why not? He could think of no reason. But then, in truth, he dinna think he could think at all.

  His head and heart went to war with his cock. The battle was a short one as he grabbed her tightly around her chest--ignoring the mounds of womanly flesh pressed beneath his thumbs--and pushed her away from him.

  "Nay, Tyra. "Tis not the way I want you," he lied. "I willna take the woman to be my wife against the rough wall of a shed. She deserves the softest linens and pelts our first time together."

  An image of a bed of furs in a fire-lit grotto sprang into his mind.

  He planted a hard swift kiss on her lips and said, "Wait, lovely Tyra, and our joining will be all the more passionate."

  She smiled at him then turned and went into the kitchen. He breathed a sigh of relief as he considered her behavior. Though she seemed truly eager for her brother to be found, he thought he had sensed some lack of truth hidden in her eyes.

  He did not know what to think. Or do. He only knew that Aeryn still had the bairn and that his vow to Campbell came before his own desires. Vows could nae be broken. He had to get the child back.

  Chapter Nine

  Nib grazed at the edge of the loch, keeping watch while little Malcolm dozed in the sunshine. Aeryn sat beside the babe, playing with his golden red curls, twisting them gently around her finger.

  Such a pretty babe. She could almost be content.

  "Aeryn."

  Nib’s quiet warning forced her to take her eyes off the sleeping baby.

  "There is a man near." Nib raised his long nose to the air and snuffled. "It is your handsome one."

  Aeryn picked up Malcolm and started for the safety of her loch. She did not want to see him again.

  "Going so soon, lady of the loch?"

  His deep voice sent an unwanted tingle through her. And his tall, broad-shouldered body stood squarely between her and her refuge.

  "Out of my way," she said, not at all sure he would obey.

  "Give me the child."

  "No." She clutched Malcolm to her breast. "I tire of this, MacEwan."

  "As do I," he replied.

  The implication was not lost on her. So, this was to be a battle of wills. She sighed. So be it.

  "MacEwan, I rule here. If you dinna wish to be under my command, I suggest you leave and not return."

  His broad chest shook and a laugh burst from his lips. "What will you do, lady?"

  Her ire flashed into flame. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nib take a step forward. She raised a hand and waved him back. If this man did not believe her power, she would demonstrate for him so he knew with whom he dealt.

  Laying Malcolm on the ground, she faced the impudent man. Slowly she raised her arms, asking the waters to answer her call.

  The familiar sensation of power surged through her and she smiled. "Look behind you, MacEwan. See what I am capable of."

  Uncertainty flashed in his eyes and he twisted his head to glance behind him. He stumbled as he turned all the way around.

  A low wall of blue-green water roiled in the air before him. He stepped backward. The water rose higher until it stood as tall as an oak.

  Aeryn wiggled her fingers and the wall crested directly over his head. He stood his ground. It occurred to her she could let the pillar of water fall onto his head and crush him.

  The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She could never do such a thing.

  Still, she had to escape with the babe before he recovered from his fear. If not, the battle would grow and one of them would surely be hurt. She would not allow that.

  So, she spread her hands, open palmed, and guided the wall of water around him until it completely circled him.

  He spun back around and she heard his growl through the water’s roar.

  "You cannot escape me so easily, lady." He gulped a big breath of air and entered the wall, slogging his way toward her.

  Aeryn called forth more water, until MacEwan lost his footing and floated. She approached the wall and gazed up at his furious face. He flailed, struggling to swim down to reach her, which struck her as impossibly funny.

  "Ne’er fear, MacEwan," she said with a giggle. "I shall go now to my loch and take my bairn with me. As long as you hold your breath you shall survive."

  Bubbles flowed from his mouth as he tried to shout at her. She ignored him and picked up the slumbering Malcolm and stepped into the loch, without so much as a backward glance at MacEwan in his prison of water.

  * * * *

  As she disappeared beneath the waters, MacEwan thought every curse at her that he knew. Once again she had bested him. His lungs ached for the air he had unwisely used in his useless attempts to shout at her.

  Then as suddenly as it had appeared the watery wall collapsed, leaving him hanging in mid-air for a ridiculous moment before he, too, fell.

  He rolled over and groaned. This was shaping up to be more difficult than he had thought.

  * * * *

  Aeryn had no doubt he would return. And she doubted not that he would bring others the next time, a band of men who would threaten her demesne.

  What could they do to her?

  "I saw it, you know."

  She raised her gaze to meet Nib’s where he sat at her table chewing an oatcake. In his man-form, his brown eyes held more seriousness then they usually did.

  "What did you see?"

  "I saw a woman leave the bairn by the loch."

  She gasped. "Why didn’t you say so earlier?"

  He shrugged his shoulders, sending a stalk of water weed flying. "Nobody asked me."

  Aeryn rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You could have told him."

  Nib snorted. "He would not have listened." He leaned his elbows on the table and looked at her. "What now, Aeryn? The men will come."

  "I know." She walked over to the pallet where Malcolm lay on his back, arms and legs wiggling in the air. Her heart melted. He would be her life. He and the bairn she carried. She laid her hand on her stomach. How could anyone abandon their own child? She turned and looked at Nib.

  "Was it his mother who left him in the reeds?"

  "How am I to know that?" Nib replied testily. At Aeryn’s sharp look, he snorted. "I never could fool you. Nay, ‘twas not his mother."

&n
bsp; "If it was not his mother, then there is someone in the keep who wants Malcolm dead. We should tell MacEwan. He will understand why the babe must stay with me."

  As she spoke the words, she felt a stab of anguish pierce her heart. A wrenching cry ripped through her, a cry of loss and despair.

  "My baby. My Malcolm!"

  The sorrow of it forced Aeryn to her knees. She knelt there, quivering, and knew it was a heart-call. A heart-call from Malcolm’s mother.

  Why had she not heard the woman’s call before? Could the call of the bairn--and that of MacEwan--have drowned it out?

  Guilt twisted inside her. It was within her power to ease the woman’s pain. All she had to do was return the child to the woman who had given him birth. To his true mother.

  All she had to do was give up her heart’s desire.

  Chapter Ten

  MacEwan wrung the water from his tunic with a violent twist and jerked it back over his head. As he flung his sodden plaid around his waist, he heard a rush of bubbling water and turned toward the damned loch.

  She was coming back, the bairn in her arms and the kelpie beside her. He planted his fists on his hips and watched as she glided toward him. But the anger ebbed, for she looked more beautiful than ever and that traitorous part of his body reacted. He shook his head. Was that his loins or his heart? His loins mattered not, but his heart.... He hardened himself against the pain in her face.

  "MacEwan!" she called. "There is something you must know."

  She held the child, almost desperately, against her breast.

  "What?" He really tried to hold his anger against her, but her demeanor was one of a woman whose heart was breaking and he could not find it in himself to hurt her more.

  "Nib saw who left the child by the loch."

  MacEwan glared at the kelpie. "You saw? And said nothing?"

  The kelpie, now on the shore beside Aeryn, shrugged his withers. "The doings of men, or women, are nothing to me."

  MacEwan drew his sword and set the edge against the powerful black neck. "Are you saying it was a woman who left the bairn?"

  "Stop it! Why are you two acting this way? Is it not more important to find out who would leave a child to die than to continue this silly arguing?"

  He lowered his sword. "You are right. Kelpie, I would appreciate hearing what you saw."

  There, he had made the first move. The smile Aeryn gave him made it worth it. Her approval of his action touched him deep inside. He was glad to have pleased her. Now it was up to the cursed beast.

  "I was grazing just over there," Nib said, raising his head and pointing with his muzzle toward a patch of white-topped clover. "The sun was just breaking over the hills. A young woman brought the child and laid him in the rushes."

  "What did she look like?"

  The beast made a sound much like a grunt of concentration. "She was near as tall as Aeryn, very pretty...." He let his words trail off.

  "Nib," Aeryn chided, "stop playing games."

  "Oh, I remember now, the most striking thing was her hair."

  Leith felt a cold wave of dread wash over him.

  "She wore a bright purple overdress."

  "The hair, kelpie!"

  Nib snorted and grinned. "She had flaming red hair, hanging to her knees."

  MacEwan cursed under his breath.

  "What is it, MacEwan?" Aeryn asked.

  "I believe I know who the woman is."

  "You do not think it was his mother, do you?" It was not really a question.

  "No."

  She nodded. "Nor do I, for I heard the mother’s heart-cry." She gazed down into the face of the smiling baby in her arms. When she raised her eyes to meet his, what he saw took his breath away. Tears glistened and pooled, trickling down her cheeks.

  "If you can prove who did this, so it will not happen again, I shall return the child to his mother."

  MacEwan moved closer and she did not step back. He could have easily taken Malcolm from her arms, but something, perhaps it was trust, perhaps it was a desire he shared with her to make certain the child would be in no further danger, kept him from doing so. Instead he took her hand.

  "Bring the bairn to the keep at sunset, Aeryn."

  She nodded silently as the tears flowed down her cheeks.

  * * * *

  Tyra made her way down the staircase. It had been so easy she could scarcely believe she had succeeded. The brat was out of the way. The Campbell land would be hers. She would become laird as her grandmother had been before her. After she married MacEwan and joined his holdings to hers, she would be the most powerful woman in Scotland excepting only the Queen herself.

  Of course it had been a terrible thing to leave the child to die. It would have been far more merciful to kill him quickly and let them find the body. But she hadn’t been able to do the deed and so had chosen the next best way.

  The child’s blood would not be on her hands. And who could blame a wild animal for doing what it did?

  She dismissed the guilt. She’d done what she’d had to do, just like the wild animal. She was only trying to survive and keep what was hers by right.

  "Hello, Tyra."

  MacEwan. She smiled to herself. He would make a fine husband, all muscle and sinew and flashing blue eyes, but right now she still had a role to play. Before turning to face him, she assumed an expression of anxiety.

  "Did you find my brother?"

  "I did."

  Her heart tripped with anxiety. How should she react?

  She stepped closer to him and laid her hand on his arm.

  "Praise God. Where is he?"

  As she met his gaze she saw something in his eyes that had not been there before. What was the hard edge there? Surely it was only the reaction of a man who had found a dead babe?

  "Is he all right?"

  He looked down and shook his head. It was all the answer she needed. Everything had gone as she had planned. The child was out of the way.

  She could have screamed in joy. It was all she could do to keep a grin off her face and replace it with one of sorrow.

  "Does Ellen know?"

  "Your father is with her now."

  "Poor Ellen." She hoped her voice carried the right tone of sympathy. "Where did you find him?" Something told her she should be interested in all the lurid details.

  "Near where you left him."

  It took a moment for his words to sink in.

  How could he know?

  No one had followed her. She was certain of that. No one had seen her leave the babe’s nursery. No one had seen her return.

  "W-w-where I left him?" she finally managed to get out.

  He stroked one finger down her arm. "There is no need to dissemble with me, Tyra. I ken what you did. I dinna ken why."

  The sudden change of topic sent her mind reeling for a response, but before she could reply he said, "With Malcolm out of the way, you are in line to be your father’s heir, is that not right?"

  She could not believe what she was hearing. MacEwan’s thinking followed the same path as her own. She let go the breath she’d been holding. He was her ally.

  "Yes. Since Malcolm is gone, I shall take his place. Once we are married, the joining of our lands will make us the most powerful family in Scotland."

  His strong fingers circled her cheek in a tender caress and he smiled. "A man can go far with a wife who has no fear. You are such a woman, are you not, Tyra? Do you fear anything?"

  "No," she replied truthfully. Better that he knew now that she would not be a dutiful baby-breeder.

  He nodded, his fiery blue eyes burning deep into her own. "I knew that the first time I saw you. You dinna be one to shy from an unpleasant task if it be needful. That is why you took the babe from his cradle and left him by the loch. It was a bold move, Tyra."

  She allowed an answering smile spread over her face. "And I am capable of much more, my lord, should it be required."

  "I am certain that you are." His brow furrowed. "But
I wonder how you managed to steal the bairn with so many others around. Surely you were seen by someone. We must make certain no witnesses come forward."

  What was he suggesting? Murder? She cringed inside, but then straightened her shoulders. She could be the wife he wanted. And she had been right. They were of a kind.

  "Did anyone see you take the child?"

  "Sh-h-h. If someone hears--"

  "I merely wish to clean up any loose threads so our lovely tapestry does not unravel."

  Reassured, she glanced around, then whispered, "I took the child while his nurse slept like the cow she is. It was nothing to walk out of the keep with him. I often walk at night so no one thought anything of it."

  He nodded.

  "Is that enough for you, my lord?" he said loudly.

  Chapter Eleven

  The tapestry against the wall rippled and her father stepped from behind it. Campbell stood, shoulders stooped, all life gone from his eyes as he stared at Tyra.

  "Why, daughter?"

  MacEwan could not look away from the man, suddenly old and tired and heartbroken.

  Tyra's lips parted, her tongue shot out to moisten their dryness, then her shoulders squared and she faced her father.

  "You were going to give my inheritance to Ellen’s son. This land belongs to my family, my sons, not hers."

  Campbell’s face blotched in sudden anger. "Is that your decision to make? Your grandmother made me her heir, not your mother. It is my decision who shall follow me. You try to take that right from me? By killing a child?"

  Ellen and two clansmen entered then. Ellen approached Tyra, staring into her face. Her hand twitched at her side and MacEwan thought she would strike the girl.

  ‘Twould be much less than she deserved.

  "I never meant to hurt--"

  "No!" Fire burned in every line of Campbell’s face. "No lies, girl. You have committed a terrible crime. Your punishment has already been spoken."

  "What? No!" She ran to her father and fell at his feet. "No, Papa, no. You can’t. I am your heir." She pounded her fists on the floor. "'Tis not my fault I’m not a son," she wailed.