Kissed by the Laird (First Ladies of the Fae Book 1)

by Sydney Sloane

  “Yer highness…if I may?”

  “You are troubled my daughter, but worry not. Your actions were for the good of the MacLaine’s, it is Diana alone that will answer for her misdeeds. I can see the need within you to make things right, am I wrong?”

  “Nay, my queen. It was my choices that left the Tir Nam Famhair in peril. It is only justified I seek away to return it to ye.”

  “Perhaps there is a way.” The queen’s eyes shifted toward Calum who stood by his mount. “Highlander, is your wineskin full?”

  “Aye.” He lifted it from the pommel of his saddle where it hung. Not wanting to get any closer to the queen, he placed it into Delilah’s hand.

  Nichneven laughed at his brother’s wariness. “Do not fear Highlander I shall refrain from devouring you with my razor sharp teeth.”

  Calum scowled, but remained by Delilah’s side with his arms crossed.

  Nichneven pulled the cork from the top of the skin and said, “Open your hands and place them side by side, like your scooping water from a burn Delilah.” When she was ready, Nichneven poured the burgundy liquid from the pouch into her cupped hands.

  The queen placed the tips of her fingers into the wine. The liquid disappeared, as though it absorbed through her fingertips.

  It was not possible. Ian spied the ground beneath Delilah’s feet, but there was no sign of the wine. The queen removed her hand from Delilah’s palm and placed it in her mantle for a moment. When she removed it and opened her palm, within it lay the yellowish bone key. The same key that had hung around Caroline’s neck.

  “Take it Delilah. The key your sister attempted to steal retains its power in the right hands. You and none other can access the power of the bone key. You will know when the time is destined for you to retrieve the book. Pray, wait for the signs or others may become a victim to the Tir Nam Famhair’s allure.” The queen folded Delilah’s hand over the key. “Keep it with you always, my daughter.”

  Nichneven’s eyes landed upon Ian. She crossed the circle toward him looking every inch the queen she proclaimed to be. Her posture was flawless. She was as graceful as a swan as it swims fluidly across a pond. Ian stepped forward. “Give me your injured hand.” He lifted his blood soaked hand. There was not a crevice along his palm that went untouched. The warm, sticky liquid ran down his hand and between each finger. The cut was not large, but it was deep and blood still seeped from the gash. She reached into the thick mantle and retrieved a glowing instrument. A wand? Neither Calum nor Delilah shifted from their positions, but looked on like two young children watching a group of minstrels perform.

  Nichneven placed the white wand above Ian’s hand. It brightened and then there was a flash. When Ian’s vision cleared, Nichneven was no longer before him, but stood over Caroline. He looked down at his injured hand it was whole again. No blood or gash remained. How was it possible?

  “Ian MacLaine it was the Tir Nam Famhair that brought this woman to you, and with you she will stay. The Fae has destined it. It is from her womb the MacLaine line shall prosper, but more importantly with a pure heart and a mother’s love they will become honorable warriors.” She smiled at Ian. “There may even be a few fierce lasses too.”

  Ian was still trying to absorb her words when Nichneven placed her white wand upon Caroline’s forehead. A powerful light flashed even greater than before, temporarily blinding them as a strong jolt filled the circle and knocked them all off their feet.

  Stunned, Ian lay upon his back. The moon’s gaze pushed away the darkness and illuminated the night sky around them once more. No strange mist swirled around them. All was gone, as was the Fae Queen and her followers. He blinked and wondered if the whole encounter had been no more than a dream. Rolling to his side, he saw Calum and Delilah attempting to rise to their feet. Nay. It was no dream. He rose to his feet and heard the sweet, tender sound of his name coming forth upon Caroline’s lips.

  “Ian.” Her soft voice cracked.

  Caroline? He struggled back onto his feet. The dizziness be damned. He needed to see her, hold her. The vision that met him dropped him to his knees by her side. “Caroline.” He cupped her face with his large hands. The flush skin from only moments ago was cool to the touch. Calum and Delilah had gained their bearings and looked on from behind him. “The fever is broken. Feel Delilah.”

  Delilah placed a hand to Caroline’s forehead and smiled. “Aye. It truly is m’laird, but she may still be weak. I think it best we see her back to the keep.”

  Calum stood beside Delilah. “I will gather the horses and prepare to ride posthaste.”

  Delilah nodded at his brother. “We will give ye two a moment alone.”

  “Aye.” Ian scooped her into his arms, but stopped when Caroline’s eyes began to flutter.

  In an uncertain tone she said, “Where am I? Ian?” She attempted to crook her neck around the expanse of Ian’s broad shoulders. “Are we outside?” Her voice cracked.

  Ian’s heart swelled, as he pressed her to his chest. A lump formed in his throat and he did not think he could speak without babbling like a bairn. He took a deep breath and answered, “Aye, we are at the standing stones.” His voice was thick with emotion.

  “The stones?” Caroline groggily pushed away from him.

  Though she was still weak, she twisted in his embrace and managed to free her arms. “Ian, I can’t breathe. You’re stifling me with all these blankets…plaids whatever you call them.”

  He took her small hand into his much larger one, and brought it to his lips to stop there flailing. “Ye have been verra ill lass and I will not risk ye catching your death…not again. Not ever.” Caroline narrowed her eyes at him, as he placed the plaid back around her shoulders. “Tis my fault ye were injured. I should have never asked ye to leave….at least not before I explained.”

  “Diana…Oh, Ian, its Diana. She’s the…” Panic filled her voice as memories of the last few days came flooding back.

  Ian gently placed his mouth over hers to silence all her fears. When their lips parted he said, “I know of Diana’s treachery. I do no’ want ye to worry on that now. It pleased him when she relaxed in his embrace and lifted her head to return his kiss with all the urgency he felt himself. Even in a weakened state, she could drive a man’s good intentions far away. Ian reluctantly pulled away and broke the connection. “Do no worry about Diana. She will pay with her life when we find the witch.” He swiped his free hand down his unshorn face. “Can ye forgive me, lass?”

  “Forgive you? I should be asking you the same. I should have trusted you, but I fell for Diana’s lies. You deserved my loyalty. I can…only hope that…”

  “Nay. There is nothing to forgive. I was a fool. Perhaps, when I gave ye the key…if I had told ye what I felt here.” He placed his closed fist upon his own chest. “Then ye would have known my heart belongs to ye Mo Ghraidh. All of it is yers. And I will spend the rest of my life proving it if ye agree to be my wife.”

  Tears pooled at the corner of her eyes. “Are you saying what I think your saying?”

  “That I love ye, Caroline. Aye, I do. Ye have consumed my dreams, my thoughts, and life. Most of all…ye have consumed my heart.” So what say ye, lass…will ye marry me?”

  The tears that Caroline threatened to release now trailed a path down her face and disappeared beneath her chin. Ian lost his balance when she flung her arms around his neck, but caught himself. His heart swelled when she clung to him, as though he were a lifeline. The feel of her warm breath caressed over the crook of his neck as her muffled words came forth.

  “I can not make out yer words, lass.”

  She tipped her head back until their eyes met and let out a watery laugh. “Yes. Yes!”

  Epilogue

  Mo Daol looked over the cavernous great hall from where she sat at the dais. The rowdy MacLaine clansmen drowned out the fast-paced beat of the drums. When the men of the clan shouted their good-natured bawdy remarks to the laird and his new wife, Mo Daol could not help bu
t chuckle. They feasted, danced and drank. The latter was the men’s main focus, as they took advantage of the free flowing ale. Aye, they were deep into their cups.

  “Och! Ye best be careful not to tucker the lass out or she’s liable to fall asleep on yer wedding night!” Mo Daol recognized Ivor’s deep, baritone voice.

  Ian gave his man a wry smile. “Nay, Ivor. My Caroline is a resilient lass, and I’ve seen that feral look in her eyes for over sennight.” Ian looked down at his new wife and gave her a wink. “She cannot resist the MacLaine charm.”

  Caroline gave an audible gasp, as she gave Ian’s chest a playfully swat. Ian tugged her closer and claimed her lips in a smoldering kiss. The crowd cheered at the intimate display between their laird and new Lady of Moy.

  Soon the pace of the music slowed, and the sound of the fiddle and pipes lifted over the banter. No matter how many times Mo Daol listened to the harmonic sound it always stirred something within her heart and soul. The men settled down their bawdy remarks and grabbed the nearest lass in preparation to waltz.

  A movement to Mo Daol’s left caught her attention. Ian, with Caroline in tow, managed to slip from the boisterous crowd unnoticed. Her eyes met Ian’s stopping him and Caroline at the base of the spiral stairwell. She could hardly blame her grandson for wanting to forgo the traditional bedding ceremony. After a sennight of Tam taunting Caroline, the man had the poor lass convinced the entire clan would witness the consummation. For a time, Mo Daol thought Caroline’s crimson stained complexion would be permanent. Now Ian looked at her, his eyes begging her to remain silent. Mo Daol sent him a gentle smile and canted her head toward the stairwell that would lead to the bedchambers above.

  Her grandson did not waste a moment, at her approval. Mo Daol’s heart lightened at the sight of Ian sweeping Caroline weightlessly into his arms.

  “Aiiieeee! Ian!” Caroline yelped and placed her arms around his neck.

  “Hush, lass or ye will give us away.”

  In a heartbeat, the couple disappeared.

  The Fae has done well, have they no’. We will no doubt not see them for a couple of days, my braw highlander. She shared her thoughts with her beloved, Hector.

  Mo Daol smiled within, as the mesmerizing music of the bagpipes drew her back to a time when she danced at her own wedding celebration. Hector. Oh, how she missed him. Without realizing it, her eyes closed and she swayed in time to the soft tune of the piper. Instantly, a vision of her beloved husband came to mind, and in those few minutes, she felt as though he were here holding her, as they danced.

  The song was nearing the end when she heard his voice.

  Do not fash, Mo Daol. My Ladybird. Though ye may not see me…know that I am here and forever by your side.

  Mo Daol heard his final words, as the song concluded. She reluctantly opened her eyes and blinked, releasing the tears that a pooled in the corner of her blue eyes.

  I love ye, Mo Daol.

  The sound of splintering wood and a chorus of screeching broke through the intimate moment. In the center of the great hall floor sat her middle grandson, Calum.

  Still feeling her husband’s spirit, Mo Daol lifted her head to the rafters above and spoke aloud. “And I ye, Hector…but it seems one of yer grandsons needs my guidance.”

  Mo Daol drew closer to Calum and the crowd of men and women parted allowing her access. Blood ran down Calum’s forehead. Kneeling down by his side was Delilah, the fiery redheaded healer, as she pressed a cloth to his forehead. A wooden bench that once could sit five warriors was no more than kindling for the fire.

  Calum knocked Delilah’s hand away. “Ow! Are ye purposefully trying to make it hurt?” His eyes darkened at her ministrations.

  “Nay, ye big bairn! I need to clean away the blood so I can see if ye require stitches.” She retorted.

  “Ye will no’ come anywhere near me with a needle…or yer magic potions! Ye just as soon turn me into a toad!”

  Delilah snorted aloud at Calum’s remark. “Stupid man.” She rolled her eyes and looked at Mo Daol. Aye, it was time for her to intervene.

  “Calum! Yer drunk! Now shut that gob of yers and let Delilah tend to ye.” Mo Daol’s tone left no room for argument. “Ye two.” She pointed toward Ivor and Seamus. “Help him to the dais.”

  Both warriors moved without question at Mo Daol’s orders. Not even Calum, as drunk as he was dare protest. They settled Calum in one of the heavy wooden chairs at the table and turned to leave. Using the clean water and rags that Greer retrieved, Delilah bit her lip and concentrated on cleansing the wound to Calum’s head. She was eye-level with Calum’s head, as he sat.

  Once the area was free of blood, the healer leaned closer to examine the wound. Without realizing it, Delilah’s breasts pressed against Calum’s face. Mo Daol held back her laughter when her grandson’s eyes widened…and it was definitely not from any aversion to Delilah.

  “The blood makes it appear worse than it is my mighty warrior. Ye shall live….and no stitches.”

  When Calum did not respond, Delilah’s brow creased. “What? No snide remark or insult?”

  Delilah’s annoyed tone turned to concern. “Calum? Are ye all right? Do ye fill dizzy or nauseous?”

  Still he did not answer, but his eyes never left Delilah’s.

  Mo Daol wanted to step forward, box his ears, and snap him out his hypnotic state. She knew exactly what plagued him. Then a heartbeat later, Calum placed a hand behind Delilah’s neck and drew her face down to his. Their lips hovered a hair’s breath away.

  “What do ye think your doing?” Delilah’s breath hitched.

  Mo Daol smiled as Calum hungrily covered Delilah’s mouth with his own. When he released Delilah, she was breathless and touched her fingers to her parted lips.

  A heartbeat later, a drunken Calum jumped from the chair. “What have ye done to me witch? First, ye leave me as limp as a dead fish…and now this! What spell have ye put upon me?”

  “What have I done to ye? Why ye arrogant, idiot, no good…”

  While Delilah ranted, Mo Daol smiled within.

  Aye, Hector. I do believe the Fae is at it again.

  The End!