Once Upon a Kiss

by Nora Roberts

  “Go ahead.” Cyrus nodded at each of them. “Ophelia, the first word, Elwas next, and Barbaby the last.”

  They all three rose to their feet. Ophelia cleared her throat. “Nothing…”

  Elwas grinned. “Is…”

  Barnaby raised his hand, and a lightning bolt, just a tiny one, exploded from his fingers as he spoke. “…impossible!” he announced, unable to resist imitating the dazzling confidence of his teacher.

  Cyrus nodded. Then he raised both arms, and there was a flash of silver smoke. He vanished in its midst. But they heard his voice clearly in the stillness that followed as the smoke tumbled out toward the sea.

  “That is correct. And don’t ever forget it if you would do great things, for love, and hope, and all things magical stem from this truth and this alone—nothing is impossible.”

  SEALED WITH A KISS

  Ruth Ryan Langan

  1

  “THE INVADERS HAVE fled, my laird. The Highlanders routed them.” A lone rider cupped his hands to his lips and shouted to the stooped figure standing high above on the castle tower. “Praise be. Once more our land is safe from the barbarians.”

  Gordon Douglas gave a long, deep sigh of relief as he turned away. But before he could go below and survey the damage done to his keep, his eldest daughter, Arianna, stepped out onto the parapet.

  Her father could tell by the look in her eyes that she’d heard the news. “’Tis true, then, Father? The Highlanders are victorious?”

  “Aye, lass.” At his words he saw a shudder pass through her slender frame.

  This should have been a time of rejoicing, for once again the villagers had been spared. The Douglas keep, which had kept guard over this soil for generations, had withstood another assault. Despite the destruction of stables and outbuildings, and the loss of animals trapped by the fire of the invaders’ torches, many more had managed to break free. Flocks of sheep still grazed on the hillsides. Crops waved, full and lush, in the fields.

  Only Arianna and her father knew the price that must be paid for their good fortune.

  “Please, Father.” Though she struggled to hold the tears at bay, her eyes swam and her lower lip quivered. “Release me from this hellish promise you made.”

  Sorrow etched his features as he shook his head and reached out a hand to her. She shrank back, avoiding his touch.

  Seeing her reaction, he spoke on a sigh. “I’ve given my word to Duncan MacLean.”

  “Aye.” She’d seen the man when last he visited their keep. A bloated goat of a man, with watery eyes and a beard as white as the snows that dusted the Highland peaks.

  Arianna shivered. “The thought of being wed to such a man, and sharing his bed, is more than I can bear.”

  Her father swallowed back his own revulsion at the image that came to mind. “Can you bear the thought of your sisters being brutalized by barbarians, lass? For that is what would happen without the MacLean’s warriors. Our land stands at a crossroads, between lowland and the hills beyond. We have no natural fortifications, as do the Highlanders. Worse, I am without sons, and therefore am at the mercy of invaders. Out of the goodness of his heart, Duncan MacLean gave his word to defend my land against the barbarians. In return, I promised him that he could take as wife my beloved firstborn.”

  Arianna knew, by the gruff tone, the depth of her father’s emotions. He had entered into this agreement in desperation. The invasions by barbarians were growing more frequent; the invaders more determined. She understood that her father had made this bargain to ensure the safety of those he loved. Not only his family, but also those villagers who looked to him for protection. But that knowledge did little to make her sacrifice less painful.

  The old man’s tone softened as he turned away to look over the fields. “So much destruction. This time the barbarians advanced to our very doorstep. Had it not been for the courage of our Highland protectors, we would have surely lost not only our home but our very lives.”

  Arianna knew that her father spoke the truth. She had watched from the tower as the Highland warriors had engaged the invaders in battle. Even from this distance, she’d seen the flash of sunlight as sword met sword. Had heard the bloodcurdling shrieks and cries, and later the moaning of those who lay dying. Had witnessed the mangled limbs, smelled the sharp, acrid stench of death that permeated the air. Through it all she had marveled at the courage of those who had come to protect strangers.

  Now, with the battle won, and the villagers burying the dead where they lay, an eerie silence spread over the land. No birds cried. No insects buzzed. Even the breeze had gone still.

  As Arianna and her father descended the stairs and walked into the gardens, her younger sisters, Glenna and Kendra, came dashing through the tall grass.

  Glenna shouted, “Father! They’re coming.”

  For the space of a heartbeat the old man went deathly pale, and Arianna could feel the tremor that shot through him. “So soon the Highlanders come?”

  “Aye, Father. Look.” The lass pointed to the long column of riders just topping a nearby ridge. Even from this distance they were an awe-inspiring sight.

  As they drew near the girl lowered her voice. “Giants they are. Look at them. Their shoulders wider than broadswords.”

  “And their faces,” sighed her sister Kendra. “So fierce.”

  That remark brought a sharp rebuke from their old nurse, Nola, slightly out of breath from her efforts to keep up with her young charges. “Hush, now. ’Tis unseemly to say such things about our protectors. The two of ye step back here out of the way now and mind yer tongues.”

  Properly chastised, the two younger girls followed the old woman to stand slightly behind their father and older sister.

  Since the death of their mother four years previous, Arianna had taken charge of the household, overseeing the cleaning and cooking and acting as her father’s hostess whenever he entertained the lairds and ladies from neighboring clans. For years she had been more of a mother to the two younger girls, since their own mother’s health had been fragile.

  Arianna thought herself prepared for any situation, but the sight of these Highlanders filled her very soul with terror.

  As the mounted men halted, their leader slid from his horse. He was so tall that both father and daughter had to lift their heads to see his eyes. Fearsome they were, like the sky before a storm. His cheeks and chin were covered by a growth of stubble. Dark hair fell to his shoulders. Shoulders so broad they blocked the view of the men behind him. He was dressed no better than the barbarians, his arms and legs bare, his torso barely covered by a bloodstained length of plaid. On his feet were sturdy boots, laced with strips of hide that crisscrossed his powerful calves. The jeweled hilt of a sword glinted from the scabbard hanging at his waist.

  It was easy to see how he and his men had bested the barbarians, for they were a truly frightening band.

  He lifted a hand in greeting. “I am Lachlan MacLean, nephew of Duncan MacLean, who sent us to do your bidding, my laird.”

  “We are grateful to you and your warriors, Lachlan MacLean. I am Gordon Douglas, and these are my daughters Arianna, Glenna, and Kendra.”

  Weary from the battle, Lachlan barely acknowledged the introductions with a curt nod of his head. “My uncle said we were to rout the invaders, and when we were assured of your safety, we were to return to our own land with your payment.”

  The older man turned slightly, indicating the keep. “If you will follow me inside, I’ll see that your men are fed.”

  Lachlan shook his head. “I thank you for your kind offer, but many of my company have been away from family, flocks, and fields for too long. We will hunt what we need as we journey homeward. If you will see to the payment agreed upon, we will be on our way.”

  “Did your uncle tell you what the payment would be?”

  Lachlan MacLean paused for just a moment. “Your firstborn daughter.”

  “Aye.” Ignoring the gasps uttered behind his back, Gordon Dougl
as cast a sideways glance at his eldest daughter, then squared his shoulders. He’d known how the two younger lasses would react, for they adored their sister. And so he’d kept knowledge of the bargain from them until this very moment, hoping to avoid a torrent of tears.

  To cover his pain, he turned to the young woman beside him and issued a stern command. “Daughter, you will go with Nola and fetch your traveling cloak.”

  Arianna knew it was useless to protest further. Ever since she had first heard of the agreement her father had entered into with his protector, she’d fought him bitterly. Now the moment of reckoning was here. With a toss of her head she followed her nurse into the keep.

  Minutes later, head still high, she stepped through the doorway wearing the hooded cloak, lined with ermine, that had once belonged to her mother. Her old nursemaid, trailing behind, was also dressed for travel.

  Gordon Douglas put a hand under the elbow of each of his younger daughters. “Bid good journey to your sister.”

  “Nay.” Glenna, at ten and five, was beginning to emulate her older sister by constantly testing her father’s patience. “I’ll not wish Arianna such a thing, for I don’t want her to leave.”

  “Nor do I.” Kendra, at ten and three, was becoming increasingly headstrong. “It isn’t fair, Father. Why must Arianna leave us? Why must she be wed to a stranger? If you’d given us swords, we’d have routed the invaders ourselves. And then we could live in peace and have Arianna here with us always.”

  Behind her, several of the warriors could be heard chuckling at her suggestion that these small females could have bested the savages.

  Seeing the fire in their father’s eyes, their older sister drew them into the circle of her arms to silence their protests. With her mouth pressed to their hair she whispered, “Hush now. ’Twill do you no good to argue. You know Father has no choice now but to abide by his agreement, or be called a liar and a cheat by all who know him.”

  Kendra was weeping, big wet tears that slipped from her eyes to roll down her cheeks. She hated that the Highlanders were here to witness her weakness. “We’ll never see you again. I can’t bear it.”

  At that Glenna burst into tears as well.

  “Shh.” Arianna brushed her thumbs over their cheeks, and tipped their faces up so that she could look into their eyes. “You mustn’t cry for me. We’ll be together again very soon. I promise you.”

  “You promise?”

  “I do.”

  Glenna’s eyes widened. “Oh, Arianna. Do you have a plan?”

  Even before the words were out of her mouth, Arianna was pressing a hand over her lips to silence her.

  “Not one word, do you hear? Just take comfort in the fact that I will soon be home with you.”

  The girls caught hands and looked at their older sister with growing admiration. Arianna had always had a mind of her own. They would trust her to find a way out of this impossible situation.

  A servant came forward leading a horse.

  Gordon Douglas took his daughter’s hand in both of his. “Know always that it breaks my heart to send you away, but I have no choice. I am nothing if not a man of my word.”

  Arianna nodded. “I know that, Father.”

  The old man looked up at the Highland leader. “Your uncle valued my daughter as a prize beyond gold, beyond flocks, beyond crops. A fairer maiden you will ne’er find in this land. See that you keep her safe.”

  The Highlander nodded. “You have my word as a MacLean on that.”

  Gordon Douglas drew her close and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Safe journey, my daughter.” He then helped her into the saddle.

  After arranging her skirts, she took the reins from the servant and allowed her gaze to move slowly over her father, her sisters, and finally the towering keep that had been her home for all of her ten and seven years.

  She loved this place. Loved everything about it. The stones in the courtyard, polished to a high shine by the hooves of generations of horsemen. The servants, most of whom had been here since before she was born. The gently rolling hills of her father’s land, covered with heather and dotted with flocks of sheep. The church bells that welcomed them each morning and evening, calling the faithful to prayer. How could she leave it? How could she live without it?

  Worse, how could she bear the harsh, primitive Highlands, with their towering granite cliffs and icy streams? How would she fare with warlike giants who dressed like savages and reveled in battle?

  There was no time to soothe the pain in her heart. No opportunity to mourn her loss or dread her future.

  At a shout from Lachlan MacLean, the Highlanders wheeled their mounts and started off, with three men on either side of Arianna’s horse. A servant helped the old nurse, Nola, into the back of a wagon piled with animal skins and trunks of clothing. With one of the Highlanders driving the team, they trailed the band of horsemen up the curve of hill.

  Within minutes their little party was lost from view as horses and riders became swallowed up by the mists of the forest. But even as her home slipped from her sight, Arianna could still hear in her heart the sobs of her sisters. And feel, deep in her soul, the terrible, searing pain of separation.

  2

  “PEMBROKE.” LACHLAN CALLED to the man who rode in the middle of the line of horsemen.

  “Aye, Lachlan.” Circling back, the fair-haired young man brought his mount beside that of his friend. The two had grown up together in the Highlands, sons of warriors. After losing their fathers, both Lachlan and Pembroke Drummond had been taken in by Lachlan’s uncle, to be trained in the art of warfare.

  “What is it, friend?”

  “I’d feel better if you rode up ahead and kept a sharp eye out for trouble.”

  “You think some of the invaders took to the forest?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Pembroke touched a hand to his sword. “Let them come.” He glanced over, surprised by the grim look on his friend’s face. “What’s this? I never thought I’d see the day when you would grow weary of the fight, my friend.”

  “Not weary. But I’ll not be careless.” Lachlan’s eyes narrowed on the surrounding brush. “For we’ve a treasure to deliver to the laird.”

  “Aye.” Pembroke couldn’t keep the smile from his voice. “And what a treasure. Like a queen, she is. Did you look at her, Lachlan?”

  Seeing his friend’s scowl deepen, he regretted his question. He bit back whatever else he was about to say and urged his horse into a run. “I’ll ride ahead and call out a warning if I see anything.”

  Lachlan reined in his own mount and waited until Arianna Douglas and her escorts rode past. Then falling into line behind them, he held the reins loosely, resting his hand on his thigh.

  He thought of his friend’s question. Aye, he’d looked. And was looking still.

  Never had he seen a fairer lass. Eyes as green as a Highland loch. A mouth so perfectly formed it made his throat dry just to look at it. Skin so pale and flawless it could have been carved from alabaster. She’d tossed back the hood of her cloak, and the breeze caught the ends of her hair. Hair the color of fire, spilling in waves to below her waist.

  He’d seen, before she covered herself with the traveling cloak at her father’s keep, just how trim a figure she had. High, firm breasts. A waist so small, his hands would surely span it with room to spare.

  His grasp tightened on the reins, and he found himself thinking about how it would feel to touch her. To rake his fingers through her hair. To draw that lithe young body against his and press his mouth to hers.

  The mere thought of it had heat curling through his veins. And with the heat, a wave of guilt for the things he was thinking.

  He owed his life to his uncle. Had it not been for the generosity of Duncan MacLean, Lachlan’s widowed mother would have been consigned to a life of poverty. Instead she’d spent her last years in the luxury of Duncan’s Highland fortress, with servants to attend her when she’d finally breathed her last.
She’d died knowing her son would always have a place in his uncle’s heart and in his home.

  Furthermore, he was a warrior. Hadn’t he given his word to his father that he would let nothing and no one distract him from his goal of becoming the finest warrior in all the Highlands?

  Lachlan deliberately turned his gaze away from the woman and studied the passing forest. He almost hoped for some sign of the invaders. A skirmish would be a welcome distraction from the forbidden thoughts he was entertaining.

  Still, as daylight hours lengthened into late-afternoon shadows, and gentle hills became steep mountain passes, he found his gaze drawn to her again and again. She remained in the saddle without complaint, never asking for a moment’s respite from the discomfort she must surely be feeling. She spoke not a word, though her mind was no doubt filled with questions about the unfamiliar land that held her future.

  There was such strength in the lass. In the way she sat, stiff-backed, chin jutting like a young warrior facing her first joust. Lachlan had admired the way she’d comforted her sisters, even though her eyes had revealed a painful inner conflict. And though she’d been unable to mask the sadness and disappointment when facing her father, she’d managed a civil departure.

  He grinned at the memory. She’d looked like a monarch being banished to the tower. Resigned, but unflinching. And far from defeated.

  Perhaps she was unaware of the opulent lifestyle that would be hers in the Highland fortress of Duncan MacLean. In his youth the MacLean had been considered the strongest and most feared warrior in the Highlands. Now, with advancing age, the old man left the fighting to his men, while he rarely left his keep. But he was still considered the strongest, bravest man around, and out of respect for his accomplishments, he was referred to as the laird of lairds.

  His woman would want for nothing. Servants to see to her every need. Food fit for a king. Best of all, peace of mind, knowing hundreds of warriors would be willing to lay down their lives to assure the safety of the laird’s bride.