The back door of the castle opened at the same time the piper’s song ended. A waif-thin woman scaled down the stairs on the arm of a handsome looking nobleman. He did not wear a plaid like most Highlanders, but a fancy-looking tunic of soft wool, and a thistle design embroidered on the hem and around the collar. A thick corded leather belt was tied about his waist, and a sword hung at his hips. There was something imperceptibly familiar about his face, but she couldn’t quite place it, and was nearly certain she’d never seen him before.
“We have missed the opening piper’s tune,” the woman said, her voice rather high-pitched as she walked haughtily toward the council’s dais.
The young noble beside her nodded, but said nothing, his eyes hungrily scanning the lines of women. There was something criminal in his contemplation, and she was instantly on alert.
She happened to flick her gaze at Macrath. Though he stood facing forward, his entire body was stiff and he stood taller. Was this his stepmother and half-brother?
Lady Beatrice stepped forward to address the warriors, ignoring the newcomers other than a look of complete disdain. An older council member assisted the noblewoman and man in climbing onto the dais where they came to stand behind them.
“Warriors, today we celebrate Samhain. The souls of the dead will walk around us, among us. Through us. You have all survived the first three games. But you will not all survive the next two. Live today as though it were your last, because it might very well be.”
A shudder passed through Ceana. By the gods, it would not be her last day. Nor her last sennight, fortnight or month of moons. She’d be standing tall and proud as she was now come the end of the games—with Macrath by her side.
Lady Beatrice’s gaze roved over the crowd of entrants and Ceana had the distinct impression she was taking stock of who’d be left among them in the next few days.
Ceana refused to do the same. There were still women left—like Judith—who could swiftly bring death upon her head. But looking over the male warriors, Macrath was easily the strongest and fiercest among them. He stood tall and proud, his dark hair shifting in the wind, strong jaw stiff and eyes directed on her. His shoulders were square, muscled legs braced. His linen shirt and plaid were plain, but on his powerful frame, they could have been the king’s clothes.
And then, with a guilty conscience, she looked toward Aaron. The man would be lucky to make it through the next round. She’d forever have his life on her hands—and yet, she’d told him not to join. He’d insisted, and she was drawn back to her worries over what his motivations were. Had he hoped to rule beside her? Did his affections run deeper than simply being close with her brother Dougal?
“Think of today as a reprieve. A celebration of what you’ve accomplished. A chance to consort with the souls who will welcome you shortly into their ethereal arms.” Lady Beatrice paused a moment, turning her back on the entrants. As if waiting for her to have said the last few words, a train of servants exited the kitchen doors of the castle.
How many times had they heard her speech before? But her questions evaporated with the steam coming off the various platters piled high with food. Following the food were servants carrying jugs, Ceana hoped, of wine.
“You will feast together today. For you have earned it. But beware, come the dawn, the celebration will end, and game four will be upon you. Slàinte! May the gods be forever in your favor.”
Lady Beatrice waited and within a breath, the male entrants bowed and the females curtsied. She turned on her heel and walked regally back toward the castle, the remainder of the council in her wake. Macrath’s stepmother and half-brother lingered, eyes on him. She had to go to him, protect him as best she could.
The piper began another enchanting tune. The scents of the feast filled the air and Ceana’s stomach grumbled. She walked straight forward, not breaking her stride, toward Macrath. If they were going to be allowed to feast together today, then she would not waste another moment from his side. They were being allowed more time than she could have ever asked for. And, with it being the games, the females were not required to have a chaperone. She wondered if that was one of the reasons the council had deemed it all right for them to dine together. There could be no distractions today. No games to play. And if the men and women chose to bed down together, who was to stop them? Who cared? Some of them would die virgins as it was.
Macrath held out his arm. “ ’Twould be my honor to escort you to the feast,” he said.
Ceana slid her arm over his, sparks of anticipation and need firing over her limbs and centering in her middle. Macrath had put her off when she’d begged him to lay with her, but she’d not take no for an answer this time, and she hoped he wouldn’t either.
“ ’Twill be my pleasure to spend the day with you.”
Aaron started toward them, but she narrowed her eyes and shook her head. Today was about her and Macrath and she wasn’t going to let his jealousy get in the way. He turned away with a glower. No matter. She’d not let his sour mood spoil hers.
They entered the tent, a mass of bodies bidding for seats along the benches of the trestle tables. Roasted goose, stewed venison, lamprey pie, loaves of freshly baked bread, tremendous hunks of cheese, apple tarts and honey cakes amassed the tables like a starving man’s dream. Her mouth watered.
Macrath led her toward the back of the tent, and the end of a table. Men scooted down, allowing them space to slide in.
“Thank you,” Ceana murmured to the man on her right.
Macrath sat on her left side, and filled her cup with wine. “To us. To survival,” he said in a low voice that didn’t carry.
“To us.” She raised her glass to his and then drew in a long sip.
He began to pile meat, pie, bread, cheese and sweets onto her plate. The feasts for the entrants after the initial games had been splendid, although separate, but neither of them compared to this display.
The tent grew loud with the excited voices of the entrants as they crammed one bite of tantalizing food after another into their mouths. Ceana could barely hear a word that Macrath said, but she felt complete with him beside her. As they’d been the last to squeeze in at the end of the table, Aaron was on the other side of the room, but she could feel him watching.
’Haps she had the wrong of it, and he was simply worried about her?
All the sudden, Macrath stood. She glanced up at him, nearly melting from the smile he beamed down at her.
“Come with me. I have an idea.” He grabbed up a flagon of wine, a loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese.
Ceana followed suit, loading a trencher with tarts and honey cakes. “Where are we going?”
“The loch.”
She’d yet to see it as it was beyond the gate. “Will they let us?”
He shrugged. “We will not know until we try.”
For the first time in weeks, Ceana was starting to feel light of heart, though she had no purpose in doing so. There was too much sadness in her soul, and she felt she didn’t deserve a moment to be uplifted, but the way Macrath was looking at her. The cheerfulness of the entrants, the heady wine and hearty food… The entirety of it was intoxicating. Dragged her into a happier place within her mind.
“Let us go, then.”
They hurried from the tent, she, practically skipping. They marched with purpose and laughter down the center lane toward the gate. Guards were posted at the side, but they made no move to stop them, simply said to be back before dark when the gates would be closed, that the archers would be watching, anyone attempting to escape would be shot executed without question.
Macrath led her around the left side of the castle walls—where she’d not yet been. Beyond the moors was a sand dune, and beyond that, Loch Eu-Dòchas. The sound of the water lapping at the edges of the sand traveled over the wind. However cold she’d been this morning, she no longer felt it. Only warmth.
And hope.
*
“You’re not supposed to be up here.”
Aaron turned to the guard who approached him atop the gate tower. He’d snuck up the circular wooden stair to peer over the crenellations at where the bastard Macrath had taken Ceana.
“Just looking at the landscape,” he said casually.
The guard touched the hilt of his sword. “Leave.”
Aaron shrugged. “I’ll not do anything to distract you from your duties.” He gazed toward the woods, hoping to see a flash of movement, but all he saw were the birds and a stupid fawn that munched on grass. Ah, a distraction for the numb-brained guard. “Wager you can’t shoot that deer with your arrow.” He smiled to himself, proud of his forward thinking.
The guard looked over the wall toward the woods and grinned. “Wager I can. But that’s not going to keep me from throwing you over the side if you don’t get your arse out of here within the count of three.”
Aaron just so happened to gaze around to the left toward the loch, catching sight of Ceana’s red locks blowing in the breeze and a hulking mass of arsehole beside her.
“As you say, sir.” He moved around the guard, but then found himself floundering through the air, as he tripped over a purposefully extended boot.
“Lucky to only have fallen to your knees. Next time you go where you shouldn’t you’ll end up dead,” the guard threatened.
Aaron swiped at the warm, sticky blood seeping from his nose where he’d smacked it on the stone floor. Without bothering to respond, he ran toward the door leading down. This latest offense would be added to the list of reasons why he had to kill Macrath—least of all that he’d enchanted his lady away.
Aaron pushed through the door at the bottom and crossed under the gate. What better day to make sure Macrath made it to his maker than the day souls walked the earth?
Chapter Eighteen
Forgetting for a moment just where they were, Ceana skipped over the dune, her boots skating over the rocky sand. To their right, a long pier stretched out into the water, and the gentle sway of the loch licked up the thick posts. There were no galleons moored, all of them being forced to leave the day the games began. The only way off the island was to travel miles and miles down the beach until the end of Sìtheil, to a neighboring clan. The travel alone would take days, if not longer, and once there you weren’t guaranteed passage, for who would want to wage war against the council by assisting in the escape of a discontent?
A salty, chill breeze blew off the water. Ceana closed her eyes briefly and breathed it in. ’Twas refreshing. She rubbed her arms, tucking the length of her arisaid tighter around her shoulders, and smiled at Macrath.
“I love the water,” she said.
“Aye, me, too.”
“Do you have a loch near your home in Argyll?”
He shook his head. “We are on the shores of the Firth of Lorne.”
“Sounds beautiful.”
Macrath gave a bitter smile and sat on the sand, pulling her down beside him. He uncapped the flagon of wine and offered her a sip.
“Sometimes.” Regret laced his response.
“And at other times?” Ceana hated to pry into what seemed like a painful upbringing, but she hoped he felt comfortable in speaking freely, after closing up on her the night before. She took the offered wine, letting the heady contents warm her from the inside.
“You well know that my stepmother has a hearty dislike of me. And even that’s an understatement. If she could have, she would have strangled me with my own birthing cord.”
Ceana nodded.
“She did not make growing up easy.”
Ceana couldn’t even imagine. Her clan had been steeped in war since as long as she could remember, but the one thing she’d always had was the strength of her clan and family. To feel unprotected and unsafe as a child seemed the worst thing in the world. Even still, it had made Macrath who he was. A strong, dependable, intelligent man.
“But now you’re all grown up.”
“Aye,” he grinned, “but age has not lessened her dislike of me, nor made my life any better, save for I can defend myself.”
Ceana’s heart ached for what he must have been through as a child. “And soon, you’ll show her exactly how well.”
Macrath nodded and tore a hunk of bread off the loaf. She watched as he hollowed the piece, stuffing the soft bready part into his mouth. Then he tore off a chunk of cheese and stuffed it into the center of his crusty shell. When he took a bite, a small smile touched his lips.
“I’ve never seen anyone eat their bread and cheese like that before,” she teased.
Macrath glanced at her sideways. “Then you should try it. ’Tis the only way.” He held out his cheesy bread, inviting her to taste.
Ceana did not hesitate. She leaned forward, sinking her teeth into the crunchy crust and then the softness of the cheese. It was amazing. Simple, but, so good.
“I like it,” she said.
Macrath tore off a piece of bread and cheese so she could make her own. They sat in a comfortable silence, munching on their food and staring out over the loch. They split the tarts and cakes, licking the honey from their fingers.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were a laird?” Macrath brushed crumbs off his hands and casually picked up the jug of wine.
Ceana tossed the rest of her cake to a hovering sea gull, watching it dive straight toward the sand to take ownership of its prize. “I was only just named laird prior to coming to the games. I suppose part of the reason I’ve kept it quiet is because I am still reeling from the idea. I never thought I’d be laird. Never thought my brother would be murdered. But he was. And now I am. In fact, ’tis the sole reason I’m here. When my brother was murdered and left me in charge, I suddenly had all these mouths to feed. As I told you last night, my people are starving. We are constantly raided. I had to do something.”
“You’re very courageous.” Macrath looked on her with pride. He’d said as much when she told him the night before. And she believed him.
Ceana smiled, let out a short laugh. “I don’t know whether I’m brave or just desperate.”
“I think ’haps both. But you know, most of the people here did not choose to enter the games.”
“Hardly anyone would be so foolish.”
Macrath shook his head, put his arm around her shoulders and tucked her close. “Och, I do not think it foolish, but noble. I would have done the same thing.”
Ceana sank against his hard body, warmed by the heat of him.
“If we could, I would stay right here in this moment forever.” She clasped her hand over his arm.
Macrath pressed his lips to the top of her hair. “Aye, lass. I would also.”
Ceana tilted up to stare into his mesmerizing, blue eyes. “Thank you.”
“What do you have to thank me for?”
“For being here. For being you.”
Macrath stared at her intently, the force of his emotion dizzying. “There is nowhere else I’d rather be, nor anyone else I’d rather be with.”
Ceana leaned up, pressed her lips to his, tasting the heady wine on his tongue. Macrath was intoxicating enough as it was, but the wine only seemed to enhance the sensations of his kiss. The soft swipe of his tongue, the tender brush of his lips. His thumb stroked along her cheek, and then she felt herself being lifted as he settled her on his lap.
Ceana trembled, shivering a little at the chill air, and even more at the deliciousness of Macrath’s embrace. Her limbs tingled, and her belly leapt. Nipples hardened, and between her thighs was instantly afire, yearning for the touch of his fingers.
Oh, how wanton she felt in his arms, and yet so natural.
Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and she clutched an arm around his neck, the fingers on the opposite side, holding tight to the coiled muscle of his upper arm.
When she was with him, she felt like she was floating, as if all burdens had been taken away and she could live out the rest of her days in peace and utter joy. And as absurd as those thoughts and feelings were, she clung to them a
s hard as she held onto this man.
With Macrath, the world could be a better place.
“I want you,” she whispered. Words she’d uttered several times since first meeting him. “And ’tis not just because I’m afraid, or because we may not live after tomorrow. I want you desperately because when I’m with you, I feel at peace, happy and hopeful.” Because, I love you.
She’d laid her heart open enough that he knew how he made her feel, but to whisper those simple words… Well, hadn’t Macrath said, when she’d snuck into his tent after the first game, they should save some things to look forward to? She’d save those words for the day they won, and not let him feel the burden of her heart.
“Och, lass. I fear, I’ve not the power to turn you away, because I need you so urgently I feel I may wage war against the council just so I can keep you all to myself.”
“There is no need for war. Just take me. Here. Now.” Ceana moved to straddle Macrath’s hips. The hardness of his arousal pressed against the apex of her thighs sending a jolt of delicious warmth and desire spreading through her. “I know not how…”
“Shh… I know, and I will teach you.” Macrath tensed, pulling away from her lips for a moment to survey the beach. Ceana laughed.
“You see? When it is just the two of us, the world melts away.”
“Aye, lassie, it does.” Macrath set her aside for a moment and then stood, holding his hand out. “Come with me.”
Gripping his hand in hers, she allowed him to lead her up the beach just a little ways, before he pulled her against a stony, earthen wall. A tree hung down over it creating a hallow. He sat down, his back to the natural wall, and tugged her down. Ceana straddled him again, rocking slightly at the insatiable pulse that built deeply and intimately with the touch of his hardness to her sensitive inner thighs. Macrath groaned, his eyes heavily lidded and locked on her.
“Come here,” he said. Threading his hands around the back of her neck, Macrath tugged her mouth to his.
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