Charming the Chieftain

by Deanie Roman

  His uncle’s reticent demeanor fired warning shots to his brain. Again he gave Tam his full attention as he prowled the room, and again he remained silent.

  “I find your hesitation curious.”

  “I … yes, well, I will leave you now, nephew,” Tam announced.

  After an awkward pat on Aeden’s shoulder, the old man left. He observed the tension in his uncle’s shoulders and wondered what in hell was eating at the man. He threaded fingers through his hair and gripped the ends on the verge of yanking each strand out by its roots. Inundated with raw emotion, he blinked back tears, and he realized the force of his grief threatened to overpower his rational thought if he didn’t get control. He moved to the foot of the bed and stared at Elisande until his eyes burned, willing her to awaken and flash that special smile reserved for him alone. Despite his uncle’s dire predictions, he refused to accept he might lose her.

  The soft snick of the door as it pushed open jolted him. Morag slowed her steps once she noticed him.

  “Beggin’ yer pardon, chief.”

  “Leave us.” His tone betrayed raw grief.

  She set a pile of linens on the table and moved toward Elisande. “I must tend to milady.”

  “Get. Out.”

  Visibly shaken, Morag froze in her tracks. He advanced on her and she quick-stepped backwards. Opening the door wide, he gripped its edge waited for Morag to scurry through, shut the door bare inches from her face and secured the inside latch.

  • • •

  “Elisande … ”

  A voice coming to her from a long ways away barely penetrated the thick stuffing some evil-doer shoved in her ears. She wanted to ask who sat with her, except the words wouldn’t climb past the dry pocket in her throat. The heat was unbearable, but when she tried to thrust the layers of wool off of her a cruel hand drew them up to her chin.

  “Shh, be still,” the voice whispered.

  Frustrated, she longed to yell at her tormentor. Then cool fingers brushed the hair from her forehead and placed a cold cloth there. She sighed in relief and let the abyss swallow her again.

  • • •

  “Aeden, you must allow Morag to attend your wife,” Onora pleaded.

  “I asked for a bowl of fresh water, no’ a lecture.”

  He seized the wood bowl and clean linen from his second-mother’s hands and kicked the door shut with his foot. The latch barely caught before Onora confronted him.

  “You are being unreasonable. Elisande needs caring far beyond your skill.”

  He rounded on her. “Do you think me a complete oaf? I have tended those needs, and will continue until Elisande can do so on her own.”

  Onora put a hand on Aeden’s arm. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

  In a fit of anger, he flung the rag at the wall. “I should never have left her.”

  Onora crossed to him. “You cannot believe this your fault?”

  His hoarse whisper broke the silence. “I can and I do.”

  He stalked over to the hearth and grabbed each end of the mantle. Hanging his head, he closed his eyes and rasped, “There was no real need for me to attend that council meeting. Ronan knew my mind and would have spoken in my stead.”

  Disgusted with himself, he pushed off the mantle and rolled his shoulders.

  “What does that have to do with Elisande?”

  An edge of impatience tinged his voice. “I left because I wanted to distance myself from her.”

  “Aeden — ” she began.

  But, he shook his head, unwilling to listen.

  The look of compassion she gave him sliced to the core of his guilt, but he only wanted absolution from one person.

  “Please, just … go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Darkness cloaked the hills and loch in its ebony embrace when he awoke in the early morning, yet someone, Onora, no doubt, defied his orders and snuck in to light a lone candle. The flame cast odd shadows across the ceiling. Careful not to jostle her, he reached out and placed his palm on Elisande’s forehead. The heat had abated, thank God. He withdrew his hand and flexed his stiff muscles, then braced both hands on either side of the chair and heaved his bulk from the chair. Making good use of the fresh water, he sluiced it over his face and neck. Next, he gathered his hair, tying it back with a strip of leather, and then submerged a linen square into the water before carrying it to the bedside table. Starting with her face, he tenderly wiped the perspiration from her cheeks and brow over her neck, chest, and down the front of her body. He tended her methodically, until a few hours later when the fever broke.

  The tremors started at once. He covered her with blankets warmed by the fire, and still her body wracked with shivers. He stripped out of his clothes and slipped into bed, gathered her close and covered her with his body. Instinctively, she burrowed against him and after a time, fell into a restless sleep. It wasn’t long before he awoke with a jerk as forceful sobs shook her.

  “Lass, are you awake?”

  He touched her shoulder and leaned over to peer into her face. She cried in her sleep.

  “Oh love do no’ cry, I’ve got you,” he rasped undone by her torment.

  In desperation, he gathered her into his arms and rocked her as if she were a wee bairn. The room’s shadows deepened and he lost track of time. Eventually, she calmed enough for him to administer a sleeping draught made of valerian tea. Once it took effect, her nightmares abated. Unable to find comfort in oblivion, he sat back against the headboard and trailed the flat of his hand down her smooth back. The underlying terror in her voice filled him with a sense of helplessness. He could never wipe her memory of the ordeal she suffered no matter how much he wished too. His failure to protect her when she needed him most weighed heavily on his conscious and sickened him to his soul.

  A muted tap on the chamber door disrupted his mental flagellation. Scrubbing a hand wearily over his face, he swiped his plaid from the end of the bed and covered himself before answering the summons. He flipped the latch bolt stepping aside to let Onora pass. He stared out from bleary eyes and watched his second-mother bend over the bed to kiss her niece on the forehead. The relief on her face was evident when she turned to him.

  “Thank the Saints, her fever has broken.”

  She smiled up at him. Her ill-judged perception of his skillful hand in Elisande’s recovery shamed him.

  “I did this to her,” he confessed raggedly.

  Onora’s brows furrowed with concern. “You did nothing of the sort. You have brought her back from the brink with your vigilant care of her. I am not so sure I could have done half so well.”

  “Onora,” he began.

  She cut him off with a shake of her head.

  “You need to rid yourself of such despairing thoughts, they help no one,” she countered vehemently.

  Onora’s authoritative air rendered him speechless.

  Reaching out, she clasped his forearm. “Aeden, my son, heed me now,” she demanded. “You are not responsible for any of this. If anyone is to blame then it should be me. I was the one who led Addis to believe he would wed Elisande, and then crowed with triumph when you stole her out from beneath his nose.”

  Shocked, his entire body went rigid and his voice shook with suppressed rage. “What did you just say?”

  Eyes wide, Onora’s fingers fanned out against her breastbone. “Did … did Tam not tell you?”

  He ignored the question and advanced on her. “Addis did this to Elisande?”

  She blanched, and backed up a step. Through the red haze of fury, he recognized her fear, yet, he couldn’t temper the rage. His control was slipping fast.

  “Aye, your brother did this to Elisande.”

  Tam walked over to Onora and placed a hand on her shoulder. Aeden immobilized his uncle with a ferocious glare. He crossed his arms over his chest and commanded in a deadly soft tone, “Speak. I demand to know all of it.”

  “I’ve had my suspicions; they were finally confirmed by Bran Ke
rr, who sent word earlier this morning. Somehow Addis managed to kill his two escorts and make his way back to Caeverlark within hours of his exile.”

  A hot rush of heat scorched Aeden’s face. He needed to punch a wall.

  “Aeden,” Onora pleaded. “Please try and remain calm, your expression could set fire to dampened grass.”

  He ignored her and honed his sights on Tam. “And this is what you have been hiding from me?”

  Tam straightened and gave him a steely eyed look. “Aye. There was no point in stirring up a hornet’s nest without proof.”

  Aeden stalked over to the hearth and seized the yew wood mantle with such force his knuckles whitened with the effort. It would serve no purpose ripping the wood from the wall except to give vent to his fury and frustration. He knew something had been amiss the eve before the council talks and instead of going with his gut, he allowed himself to be talked out of it.

  “From the moment I laid my eyes on Elisande, I have gone against my instinct and because of my lapse in judgment, she very nearly died.” He hung his head, disgusted with himself.

  A feeble whimper underscored the tense atmosphere in the chamber, effectively slashing through the fog of violence that had encased his senses. How had he not seen this coming? He knew Addis marked him for death the moment of his banishment, and in his desperation to deny his profound attraction to Elisande, he almost forfeited her life. Right then, he made a solemn vow to his wife that vengeance would come secondary to her needs. He failed her once — he’d be damned if he’d fail her again.

  “What is it, nephew?”

  He shook his head in self-disgust. “I knew Addis had it in him to brutalize innocents. He’s proved time and again his cowardice and penchant for violence without ever dirtying his hands. I fully expected another attack against me, never Elisande.”

  “Aye. Addis knew the best way to hurt you was to strike out at the person you cared for the most.”

  Thunderstruck, he glanced between Onora and Tam. “How in the hell could he tell I care for her?”

  Onora’s smile was not unkind. “All anyone has to do is watch you with her. It’s plain for all to see.”

  He gripped the back of his neck and recognized the truth of her words. “Well, it would appear I sorely miscalculated my brother’s abilities.”

  “We all did,” Onora agreed.

  He nodded and decided it was past time to stop wallowing in guilt and move forward. “What new orders have you given the men?”

  Tam cast a glance at Onora.

  Irritated by their furtive manner, Aeden clenched his jaw. “Well?”

  “I have dispatched a contingency of sixty warriors to search for Addis. Ian leads the men. I have every confidence that ruthless youngster will rout the bastard in no time.”

  “You have instructed the men that Addis is to be brought back alive?”

  Despite the dismal situation, an evil grin creased the older man’s face. “Aye, that bit was well understood. On the other hand, I never said the cowardly bastard couldn’t be brought to you hog tied, maimed, bloody, or, all three, but, alive? Oh, aye.”

  A humorless smile stretched Aeden’s cheeks. Addis would be found. Of that he held no doubt. For now, his only concern would be restoring Elisande’s health.

  “Now, come join us for the evening meal. You have spent far too much time locked away in here. It shall do you a world of good to leave your bedchamber for a short time.”

  “No,” Tam urged, “don’t shake your head. Onora has the right of it. You’ll do your wife a disfavor if you collapse beside her from lack of drink and food.”

  Aeden took up a wide stance and crossed his arms. “I will no’ leave my wife.”

  Tam looked as if he would argue again, but Onora spoke first. “If you do not wish to accompany us to the hall, then I shall send up a well-appointed tray, and I expect you to eat,” she directed.

  “Leave me now,” Aeden quietly commanded.

  “Promise you will eat,” Onora pleaded.

  Aeden gave her a hollow-eyed stare, and still Onora refused to budge.

  “Aye, nephew, you look that bedraggled. Most likely you will scare the poor lass into a faint when she wakens.”

  In the end, he agreed to the tray to get the pair of them out of the room. He hovered over the bed. True, the fever had broken, but she wasn’t showing any more signs of improvement. His eyes filled with unshed tears. God in heaven, how was he to keep her from flying away?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Once down the corridor out of hearing, Onora gave in to the urge and broke down.

  Tam gathered her into his arms and laid her head on his shoulder. “Hush now,” he chanted. “’Twill all right itself in the end.”

  Despite the gravity of the situation, Tam’s oft-repeated refrain struck Onora funny and she started to giggle.

  Apparently concerned for her sanity, Tam gripped her shoulders, drew her away from his chest and probed her teary stare with a keen-eyed sharpness.

  Onora laughed harder. “Oh Tam, if you could only see the expression on your face. Don’t worry, I haven’t gone daft.”

  As she searched his eyes, something shifted and she became aware of Tam in a different way. She gasped, and Tam swooped in and covered her mouth with his.

  Drawing apart, Onora asked, “How long, Tam?”

  The lines around his faded blue eyes bunched up when he smiled. “Since the day me brother brought you home.”

  Tears welled in Onora’s eyes. “All those wasted years. You should have wed and had a family of your own.”

  “Shush now. I never felt cheated. I was happy for Gavin.”

  “I never thought to feel this way again,” she confessed.

  “I want you for my wife, Onora,” he demanded in a gruff voice.

  Laying a hand alongside his cheek Onora responded, “I want to be your wife. Only, you know I’m too old to give you children,” she teased.

  Tam smiled. “At one time I did yearn for a son, and then Aeden was born. I take great pride in havin’ a hand in rearin’ that boy. It’s more than enough.”

  “You never forged such a bond with Addis?”

  He leveled a stare at her. “No. The boy never took to me, or anyone else for that matter.”

  Onora shook her head. “I never believed it could ever come to this. What a mess.”

  Tam nodded. “I did try to talk my brother into telling that boy who he really was. I thought if Gavin told Addis why he would never be the Maxwell chieftain and revealed to him he was the Kerr chief by rights, it may well have placated the boy, and when he came into his manhood he could have spent his time working to rebuild that clan. Unfortunately, when Addis’s true nature shined through it became clear the boy’s bloodline was tainted beyond repair.”

  “Concealing the truth was the right decision then.”

  She gave Tam an anxious look. “Will Aeden never learn the truth, then?”

  • • •

  Addis tried to run before the broadsword completed its downward stroke. He threw his arm up in a feeble attempt to ward off the blow, and then watched in horror as his arm dropped in the mud. Blood spurted out in a wide arc and no amount of pressure to the bared vein could stem the never-ending flow. Bolting upright, he looked wildly around him and seized his arm. It was there, he slumped in relief. It was only a nightmare.

  Closing his eyes, he lay back down on the rocky ground and cursed Aeden for his predicament. He should be in a warm bed enjoying a wench, not living like an outcast. He had been on the run since Elisande was pulled from the loch, traveling by night through the dense woods, keeping off well-traversed roads. His innards rubbed up against his backbone, he possessed a rampant thirst, but unable to assuage any of his needs at present save one. He gripped his erection, leaned one hand on a nearby tree and watched rivulets of urine darken the bark. He yawned, and decided a few more hours of sleep were needed before he moved on.

  Again, he awoke with a start, the steady press
ure of cold steel cut into his neck.

  “Seems sleepin’ beaut-ee roused,” a voice sneered.

  “What say we cut him and watch to see how he bleeds?”

  The other soldiers laughed uproariously.

  “Cuddy, haul him up and restrain him.”

  Two burlier soldiers forced his arms behind his back and tied them tight enough to benumb his hands. When the blindfold went around his eyes, the last thing he remembered was an explosion of light behind his eyelids as the flat of a broadsword connected to the back of his head.

  • • •

  Elisande awoke to an undertone of even breathing. The chamber was uncomfortably warm and her head felt muzzy, as if someone stuffed cork into her ears. Sweat traveled between her breasts and her tongue seemed too large for her mouth. A lone candle atop the mantle burned bright, illuminating strange shapes set there. Light snores drew her attention back to the muscled wall of her husband’s naked back. Anxiety clouded her thoughts and she tried to sift through the events that landed her in their bed. Panic crept along the edges of her mind and she shut her eyes tight. She shied away from a memory lurking in the dark recesses of her brain. Fearful, she curled close to Aeden and breathed in his scent radiating from his heated skin. As long as he remained by her side no evil would touch her.

  He shifted in his sleep. She lay there and studied his face. Even in the weak light peeking through the wind-hole covers, dark circles emphasized the hollows of his stubbled cheeks. The poor man appeared exhausted. The disarray of the chamber did not escape her attention and she wondered why the servants had neglected to pick up clothes and linens strewn across the dusty floor.

  “What in the world happened?” she murmured.

  A stabbing pain knifed through the base of her skull in a kaleidoscope of muddled images of torn clothes, black water, and endless beach that inundated her bewildered mind. Tears welled in her eyes as the desperate emotions from that horrific day swamped her senses. She tried to resurrect specific details of the brutal attack, yet could not recall much. It was as if her brain shielded her against the terrible details. Unfortunately, forcing the events caused a piercing ache in her left temple. A fine sheen of perspiration coated her entire body and a wave of nausea rolled her stomach. She needed water.