by Vin Stephens
“Shame on you Jhor. Such a bully.” Willow sampled more of the sweet carrots they’d pluck that morning.
“Ye’re filling out rather weel, baby.”
She threw the carrot stem at Garret. “Are you calling me fat?”
“Nay. Simply rounder.”
“Horrid creature. I’ll have Altair lock you out the bed chamber.”
“Perhaps I’ll lock them both out and have ye all tae myself.” He gathered her up and dumped her into his lap. The younger girls giggled as they cleared away dishes.
Nonna reprimanded him primly, “Your manners are barbaric.”
“Aye, that he is. Come sit on my lap lass and we’ll show him how tae do it in a civilized way.”
Nonna clucked her tongue at Garret. Willow caught the small smile as Nonna resumed eating. Her nanny mothered over them all now, but Garret, or “dimpled rascal” as she secretly nicknamed him, had carved himself a cozy niche in her heart.
“I think we should put Garret to work, Nonna. We could use extra hands with the household chores.”
He looked truly horrified. “Tis only two things a mon’s hands are made fer—hard weapons and a soft wench.”
“Humph. No wonder this castle looked like the inside of a barn, ye lazy man.”
“Ah Nonna. Tis hard sweat I pour each night. Ye doonae ken how demanding this wench can be.”
Willow kicked him under the table just as a huge din broke out. Her surprised leap was forestalled by Altair’s restraining hand. “Calm yerself, lass. Tis guests.”
“Guests?” Rather then pacifying her, it prompted her into action. She shouted out orders for jugs of homebrewed ale and for a steaming broth to be brought. They streamed into the hall accompanied by frigid air and excitement. “Oh dear. There’s a whole army. I’ll have to make sure we have enough food.”
Altair patted her ass as she hurried to the kitchen and shouted, “Hurry back.”
“Finally the wee laddie has found himself a bonny lass.”
“Aye and thank the Gads. We can do the same, fer the lasses willnae be lusting after his ugly arse.”
Willow laughed. Imagine her great Laird being called a wee laddie. And as for his ass, that was an even bigger stretch of the truth. She returned to lively music of a fiddle and harmonica. Rowdy dancers did a jig. The large flat screen and sound-bar lay dormant.
Garret patted the seat. “Sit. Altair has business tae discuss.”
Altair seemed truly engrossed with his assembly of men. They looked prominent, even with overgrown beards and multi-colored checkered plaids. Willow marveled at the energy of the people. The staff buzzed like bees on endless errands. Ale was consumed by the barrelfuls. Large, gruff mannered men pinched serving girls’ backsides. Some even grabbed and enjoyed the ladies struggling in their laps. All was good natured and fun. Stolen kisses were reciprocated with either a giggle or a slap. Nonna had also found some diverting company. The men around her listened avidly as she spoke but it appeared the dignified gentlemen closest to her hung a conspicuous amount more on her every word.
Only one person annoyed her—Claire. She’d found a spot directly behind Altair and was taking express pleasure in rubbing her overexposed bosom against him at every opportunity. Willow swallowed her irritation down with a sip of ale. Both were bitter.
“Ye ken, a mon derives the same pleasure at a show of possessiveness as a lass.”
“It’s not my place to send Claire packing, Garret. Altair can juggle as many women as he wants.”
Garret tittered. “Hog shit and ye ken it. Altair is a great mon but he isnae immortal. Whence think ye he can get the strength tae tup another lass when ye drain his sperm every night?”
Willow choked. “You’re a fine one to talk. You contribute a healthy portion.”
“Altair has already told Clair her services arenae required. But she’s a stubborn wench. And Altair is tae much a gentleman to throw her out. Mark my words. He has no attraction for Claire. Nor Jhor. Nor I.”
Willow studied Altair at the far end of the trestle. He didn’t seem to notice Claire’s antics. In fact he kept moving away as though a fly bothered him.
“So what are ye going tae do about it?”
“Me? What can I do?”
Nonna was apparently eavesdropping on her two favorite pups. She said, “Murdock is to blame, Garret. He brought his paramours home and expected no scenes.”
“Nonna please.”
“No Willow. I watched you cower and I will not see it happen again. You keep saying you will not speak ill of the dead. Well then you can’t ever speak a word of Murdock. Ill was all he was.”
“My Mama was fond of saying—” He smiled gently. “—groom a horse tae be a horse and it’ll walk tall with a gingered tail. But groom a horse tae be an ass and it’ll tuck the tail between its legs to pull the mule’s cart. Which are ye, Willow? Horse or ass?”
She considered then rose. “I’m not too fond of asses.”
Nonna clapped her hands and smiled her thanks at Garret as Willow marched to Claire. Too engrossed in flashing her boobs, she didn’t see Willow approach. “Still hanging about for scraps, Claire? It makes you look like a pathetic mutt.”
Everyone froze. Claire’s lips curled viciously, “Ye’re just a passing fancy with foreign meat in ye panties. Ye willnae be enough fer braw Scotsmen.”
“Where’s your pride? Do you want to be chased in public? I have no problem kicking you out.”
“Ye slut.” Claire reached out to grab her hair. “Ye’ll never satisfy a mon like my Laird.”
Willow ducked and held Altair back from rising. “Leave Altair alone. He belongs to me. And I don’t share.”
Claire hissed and stormed off. Altair’s eyes glowered ferociously. Unashamed of the hard-on she’d given him, he stood, his tall figure dwarfing her. “Say it again. Slowly.”
“You. Are. Mine. Altair.”
His kiss was feverous, hungry and consumed her whole. The entire hall erupted. Men thumped their tankards and stamped their feet. Some whistled and called out salacious innuendoes. All that mattered to Willow was the man inflaming her senses. He grabbed the globes of her buttocks and rubbed her against his arousal. “Ye jealous hellcat. Ye’re a fire in mae blood that willnae abate. Now go afore I bend ye over this table and fuck ye in front of all these men.”
Biting her lip, partly because she believed him and partly because she’d beg him to do just that, Willow made her way back to her seat. After a quick wink, Garret left to break the mood with his sexy lips on the harmonica. Nonna’s eyes shone with pride.
Jhor slipped in beside her. “Ye surprise me, Red. There’s news from your home.”
“What?”
“Altair says the Figaros and Dominics have withdrawn. Blood wasnae spilled.”
The balloon of pressure in Willow’s chest deflated. She looked at Altair, and found his gaze still locked on her. She mouthed, “Thank. You.”
He inclined his head and refocused on his meeting. Willow pressed her hands between her thighs to stop their trembling. It seemed such a shallow gesture to a man who’d saved so many precious lives. Jhor squeezed her shoulder as she mumbled, “Thank you too for lending me the protection of your name.”
“Tis a pleasure Red. But tis wasnae just the Cameron name.”
“What do you mean?”
“Those men with Altair, they arenae just commoners. See the bands of their plaids. Tis Donnelly to Altair’s right and McGregor to his left. Then there’s Campbell, the Stuart cousins, Murphy and lastly Donavon with his future heir. They’re all Lairds of the largest strongholds across both the Highlands and Lowlands.”
“But why are they all here?”
“Our Laird commands great respect. Tis by his command that they’re here and tis by command whence they’ve come from. Ye Catelli lands.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Ye wasnae just under the protection of Cameron but the whole of Scotland.”
Willow stare
d at him dumbfounded. Then she did the only sensible thing she could. She burst into tears. “Oh Altair. How will I ever repay him?”
Altair lurched to his feet. Concern was etched on his face. Through her tears, she gave him a wobbly smile. She would never forget what this great man had done for her and her people. In that moment she realized she’d gone and fallen head over heels in love with the proud, overbearing man. She loved this brash man at her side as well, who could battle wild boars but was stricken by her tears. She loved Garret, with his gentle soul and healing hands. But she could never tell any of them that. She was nothing but a momentary plaything to them. It made her cry all the more harder.
* * * *
Altair gave Jhor a thunderous look. He left his kinsmen and went to Willow. “Come.” He drew his greatcoat from the hanger and carefully wrapped her in it. Adding warmth of his body, he huddled her outdoors and straight for the stone steps. He didn’t say a word until they’re reached the higher point of the parapet. He found a place hidden from sight and the howling wind. “What is it, sweetling? Ye tears will drive me tae murder. Who will it be?”
Willow snuggled closer to him, clinging as though her life depended on it. “Jhor told me about the Lairds you sent to save my people.”
“Tis the reason ye’re bawling ye eyes out?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know. No one’s ever done something so wondrous for me before.”
“Ah mae sweet Willow. Tis ye name that makes ye weep so easy.” He thumbed away the moisture. “T’isnae such a great feat.”
“It is. You don’t understand.”
“Help me tae.”
“My husband thought me weak and ignorant. My mother died birthing me. My father hates me—for costing him his true love. Me—the wrong gender and wrong breed. My—” Altair knew she’d stopped short of revealing a secret but he didn’t press. Instead he waited patiently for her to continue. “I’ve been posted off to America, Europe and Asia to study, or so my father said. He actually couldn’t stand the sight of me. I’m twenty-eight years old, Altair. I’ve been shuffled to the furthest reaches of the world like a chess piece just so we wouldn’t breathe the same air. I’ve endured a marriage for eleven years since the age of nineteen to a monster. And who do I have? Only Nonna. One person in an entire existence who cared for me.” She shook her head. “And then I come to this corner of heaven to plead for help from a man I know only by name and a distance memory of a youth’s face. You, a complete stranger, end up doing more for me then anyone who’s known me my whole life.”
Altair wished, for the first time, to have Jhor’s unflinching sturdiness and Garret’s silver-tongued eloquence. His own tongue was tied in knots, his heart cracking into tiny fragments. Give him battles to fight and men to command any day. A woman in his bed, he could handle. But one in tears? Nae. He was out of his depths. If he could take her pain and call it his own he would. He pondered too long because she sprung up.
“I’m just grateful Altair. Will I ever find a way to repay you?” She exhaled shakily. “Go back to your meeting. Please. I don’t know why I’m being such a watering pot.”
She made it all the way to the guard rails before he managed to recover his composure. “Willow.” She stopped but didn’t turn. He approached and touched her arm through his heavy coat. “Tis was in my power tae help so I helped. I have nae need for repayment. I cannae speak fer ye father or my brother. But I can say tis a waste of ye precious tears for a mon who doesnae appreciate ye. Tell me Willow. Tell me what I can do tae free ye of these burdens. Tell me and I’ll do it.”
“You’ve taken a massive burden off me already.”
“Tis isnae enough or ye wouldnae have these.” He touched her damp cheek. “Ye havenae told me everything. What does ye heart keep locked from me?”
She hung her head before shaking it. “I’m sorry. It’s not something I can speak about. Please understand.”
“Nay. I will ken wee Willow. I willnae accept only parts of ye.”
She fled then, leaving Altair in turmoil. His brethren howled below. He caught dual ghostly shapes at the forest edge. “The storm still brews, mae brothers. All isnae weel yet.”
* * * *
The dream hadn’t haunted her since arriving on Scotland’s shores but it came tonight. Willow battled the sheets, trying desperately to wrestle free of the nightmare.
She was slumped in bed, drowning in a pool of perspiration and blood. She looked on warily as Murdock stared down at the precious bundle wrapped in fine cloth. With outstretched arms she whispered, “The baby isn’t crying? Something’s wrong. What’s wrong, Murdock?”
His eyes were blank as he ignored her and walked to the bedroom door.
“Wait. Where’s the midwife—the servants? Where are you going?”
“Ye’re a slut, wife. I fuck yer pathetic, scrawny body and what do ye give me? Another mon’s bastard. Did ye think tae pass her off as mine?” He gave her a cool smile and calmly exited.
“Her? A baby girl? No, Murdock. Come back.” With effort she stumbled from the bed. Her knees buckled taking her to the floor. She crawled. What had he done? The baby hadn’t been due for a whole two months more. She knew him well. Had he ranted and raved more it wouldn’t have been so bad. But that hollow, half-crazed smile meant only danger. “Oh God. My baby. Please. What have you done to her?”
Sweat dripped down her face. Damp hair clung to her face. A thick trail of blood followed her slow, painful journey. The handle was so high. She groped for it. Her vision dipped and swayed. Nausea clawed at her throat. Dry heaves racked through her body. She wrapped her hands tightly around her midsection as another spasm of cramps coursed through her. Something wet and slippery slid between her thighs. She stared at the afterbirth, a mass of gore and fresh blood. Turning aside, she vomited.
There were voices. Help. Her finger nails broke as she clawed her way up. She had to get the door open. But as her hand curled around the handle the laughter came. It was cold, cruel. She slumped against the wood. Whoever was out there, he was no friend. “My baby. Dear Lord. What have they done?” Her hand began to slip away.
“Willlow. I’m here sweetling.”
“Altair?” She couldn’t see him.
“Listen tae my voice, Willow. I’m right here with ye. What do ye need sweetling?”
“The door. My Baby.”
“Open it. Find ye baby.”
“I can’t.”
“Ye can. Ye will. Do it. I willnae leave ye.”
“Altair.”
“Now Willow.”
Altair was with her. She could do anything with him by her side. The handle twisted. The door creaked open. She tumbled through.
“What do ye see? Tell me, Willow. What is it?”
“Murdock. No. Not him. Don’t give her to him. Give her back.”
“Who Willow? Who do ye see?”
“No. No. Bring her back. Why isn’t she crying? I want to see her.”
He opened the blanket. Willow drew back. Then she screamed and screamed.
“Willow. Wake up. Hush, sweetling. Tis a dream. Just a dream.”
She was enveloped in warmth, being rocked and cooed to. “Altair.”
“Aye. I’m right here.” He wiped away the sweat from her forehead. “Hush. No one will hurt ye.”
“They took her away. My poor baby girl.”
“Who sweetling? Murdock and who? Give me a name.” He grabbed her arms and shook. “Nay. Doonae let it go. Tell me who took ye bairn?”
“Anthony.” Willow gasped. “I remember now. Anthony. He was there that night. With Murdock. He took my baby. Anthony Barceló. He did something. Oh God. She was so blue, her face. Her eyes. Staring at me. Lifeless. What did he do? To me? To her? She never cried. She was so still. Silent.” She pushed at Altair. “Why didn’t I remember? Did he kill—?”
She broke down, wailing loud and hard. Altair pressed her to his chest and kept stroking her back. He whispered words Willow couldn’t comprehend. The dream
had always ended with her hand slipping away from the handle. Why hadn’t she recalled going through, seeing that monster. Oh dear, dear God. All these years she’d known Anthony had been there. She’d seen her child. Why hadn’t remembered?
“Nay, Willow. Doonae withdraw. Tis likely ye mind shut down off because tis was tae tragic. Doonae blame yeself. Tis isnae ye fault.”
Willow blew her nose in the tissue he handed her and accepted the glass but couldn’t sip. It remained untouched in her clutch. “How did you find me? In the dream.”
“I cannae read ye mind, sweetling. If I could I would’ve read it on the rooftop when I yearned tae ken this secret. I watched ye sleep. Tis the first night ye havenae lay with me. Ye began to dream. I couldn’t reach ye. I wanted to wake ye but ye wouldnae. Forgive me but I tried tae get ye to speak from ye sleep.”
“No. It’s good you did. You gave me the strength I needed.”
“Can ye tell me, Willow?”
She nodded. “You know now there is a child. Was. Oh God.”
“Take ye time, sweetling. Ye need the truth.”
“Murdock accused me of adultery. He called her a bastard.”
“Was she, lass? Ye said Murdock never impregnated ye.”
“She was. He didn’t.” She hung her head in shame. “I was twenty-five, married for six years. I knew by then I’d married a monster. I’d remained faithful even though he didn’t. He came home one night in a rage. We were staying the weekend in an English hotel. He—well, I don’t think I need to tell you what he did. You’ve seen the scars.”
Altair’s voice was rough with barely reined fury. “He beat ye.”
“He’d always been careful about witnesses. But that night.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. He’d been gambling and lost heavily. He’d never been able to hold his alcohol. This night it made him careless. He made a great deal of noise. Someone. Another guest heard us.”
“Who was he?”
“Something Stark. Intellectual, non-threatening sort in tweed and specs. American.”
“Raelyn Stark? As in Stark Exports?”