“Catch me later?” He chuckled. “Och, lass, I fear I’m already caught.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The moment Hunter laid eyes upon Sky Elizabeth, all the familiar warmth and affection he held for her welled in his chest. Although, his heart didn’t pound at the sight of her, nor did he have to resist the urge to drag her into his arms and ravish her; ’twas only because of their long familiarity. They’d been raised together, after all.
Sky represented all he held dear: home, kin, that elusive sense of belonging and security. Aye. All his dreams would come to fruition through his union with Sky. Finally he would have a family to call his own. With Sky and their bairns to protect and cherish, he’d belong to the MacKintosh clan in truth.
While his foster parents gathered around Sky and the twins, Hunter’s eyes slid to Meghan. Her hands were fisted at her sides, and she hurried toward the keep with her head bowed. What troubled her? His heart lurched. He should go after her. The moment he took a step in the direction of the keep, Tieren clasped him by the shoulder.
“Let her be,” he commanded.
Hunter shot him a sharp look. “Do you ken what vexes her?”
“You dinna?” Tieren’s expression turned incredulous.
“If I did, I would no’ ask,” he snapped. “You spoke with her a moment ago, aye? What did she say?”
“If Meg wishes to tell you aught, she will.” Tieren’s eyes followed Meghan’s retreating form. “It serves me best no’ to enlighten you.”
“You speak in riddles.” Hunter focused his energy. Envy, desire, determination and frustration pulsed from his friend. Tieren’s intentions toward Meghan were serious. His emotions were those of a hot-blooded male in the throes of pursuit and uncertain of the outcome. Hunter’s gut knotted, and he had to fight the urge to demand Tieren meet him in the lists. He wanted nothing more than to pound the desire for Meghan out of his friend.
“Cease, Hunter.” Tieren’s emotions muddled into an indecipherable buzz. “Have I no’ told you oft enough? My thoughts and feelings are my own and no’ yours for the taking.”
“Aye, you have.” Heat rose to his face. “’Tis habit.”
With a slight shrug, Tieren dismissed the topic. “Have you spoken to Malcolm about your intentions toward his daughter yet?”
“Nay, what with all that has occurred this past se’nnight, I wanted to wait until Sky and the twins were home.” He looked toward his foster family. They’d started out for the keep, and he set out to follow. “I will speak with him on the morrow, or mayhap later today should I find him unoccupied.”
“Good. I plan to speak with Robley myself this very day,” Tieren said, matching his stride to Hunter’s.
“About what?” Hunter stopped walking. Meghan? Tieren had hinted at his intentions, but declaring himself to her guardian—not something he wished to hear.
“My future.” Tieren jutted out his chin. “I expect Malcolm will place you in command of his garrison now that Angus is ready to be pensioned off. I had thought to ask him to make me a captain here at Moigh Hall, but I’ve decided to see about a post at Meikle Geddes instead. I’m going to ask Robley for Meghan’s hand.” He straightened. “’Tis doubtful she’ll return to her own time, and I want her.”
Possessiveness gripped Hunter, sending his blood rushing through his veins and hazing his vision. “You canna have her.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized he intended to say them. Everything in him rebelled at the thought of another man touching her, making her his.
“Nay?” Tieren widened his stance and crossed his arms in front of him. “Think you to gainsay me? By what right?”
“She wants to return to her life in the twenty-first century, Tieren. I mean to find a way to see that she does.” Hunter thrust out his chest, meeting the unspoken challenge. Truth be told, he did want Meghan—and had since the day she stood victorious above him with her boot planted firmly upon his chest.
“Think you I will no’ achieve that end now that I’ve set my mind to it?” Hunter arched an eyebrow and assumed his most intimidating glare. Aye, his passion for Meghan consumed him, disturbed his sleep and played havoc with his fortitude. But she was not for him. He’d laid out the course of his life long ago, and he meant to follow his chosen path to the end of his days. “I took her from her father. By rights, ’tis my responsibility to see her safely returned into his keeping.”
“I will no’ be swayed by whatever false notions you hold.” Tieren took a step closer. “Robley has assumed guardianship over her, and Meghan has accepted him in that role.” Tieren returned Hunter’s glare with his own. “You canna always have things your way, Hunter.”
“My way?” Taken aback, Hunter’s eyes widened.
Tieren speared him with a look of pure exasperation. “Aye, your way. You were taken in by the earl’s household. I was no’. ’Tis you whose praises are sung relentlessly, and you to whom others look to for leadership.” He poked a finger at Hunter’s chest. “I am every bit as skilled. More so for I dinna have fae blood running through my veins to aid me. ’Tis well past time I stepped out from under your shadow to cast my own.”
“What?” He raked his fingers through his hair. “You have had every advantage I had as a lad. We were fostered together and brought up in the ways of knighthood by the same men.” His chest tightened, and he could scarce draw breath. “The only reason Malcolm and True did no’ take you into their household was because you still had your ma, and she had need of you in the village. I had no one.”
A roiling cloud of dark emotion surrounded Tieren. He shook his head, turned on his heel and strode toward the keep. Did his friend truly believe he always had things his way? How long had Tieren felt overshadowed? Guilt bit a swath out of his hide, but then he recalled how, when he was but four, Tieren and the other village lads had thrown stones at him during the harvest. ’Twas Malcolm who had intervened, forcing him and Tieren to serve the clan together during the harvest. After soundly thrashing Tieren that day, the two had gone on to become friends. The guilt dissipated, replaced by a soul-deep hurt and the familiar ache of isolation and betrayal.
Mayhap Tieren was not the friend he believed him to be. Shaken to the core, he struggled to gather his wits about him. My way indeed. No matter. ’Twas but one more reason to stay true to his path. After the noonday meal, he’d seek out Malcolm. Hunter turned toward the keep, his mind set.
Unbidden, the image of Meghan hurrying away with her head bowed and her hands fisted came to him. He didn’t like seeing her thus. When she was upset, he could think of naught else but coaxing a smile from her. The need to hold her until all was set right overwhelmed his senses.
Her image filling his mind led to other memories, like the way she’d kissed him when he’d shown her the way to the lists. Having Meghan in his arms had nearly swept his legs out from under him. Her kiss had tasted so sweet, and her feminine curves had fit against him as if she’d been formed solely for his pleasure.
Meghan lit a fire within him that smoldered and flared with a life of its own, and he grew hard just thinking of her. Her unique sweet scent, the silky feel of her hair against his skin and the way she moved stirred him like no other. Steering his mind away from his lust, he sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Resolute, he strode toward the keep to join his foster family in the solar.
Hadn’t Malcolm and William told him oft enough that passion burned hot but did no’ last? ’Twas common ground, like-mindedness, abiding love and respect that carried a husband and wife through the trials sure to arise in their marriage. Malcolm had instructed him thusly, so it must be true. What did he and Meghan have in common? Naught. They were from different worlds. Hadn’t she said she did no’ ken how to act as a gently bred lady?
Ah, but I am not a noble. Do I need a gently bred lady as my wife?
He shook off his conflicting emotions. Madame Giselle�
��s assertion that he must give up his false sense of control was naught but meddlesome nonsense, and he would prove her wrong. Or rather—he would prove that he was right. Control over his destiny was all he had, and he clung to it with both hands.
The noonday meal came and went, and ’twas late afternoon before Hunter caught sight of his foster father crossing the inner bailey. He hurried toward him. “Malcolm, might I have a word?”
“Aye.” He waited for Hunter to reach him. “I’m heading to the mainland to check on a new foal. Walk with me to the ferry.”
“Nay.” His mouth went dry. “I had hoped to speak with you in the privacy of the earl’s solar. Will you be free to meet with me after seeing to the foal?” His heart crawled up his throat. What if Malcolm refused him out of hand? Surely he’d want Sky wed to an earl, or a baron at the very least. Hunter cursed the circumstance of his birth.
Malcolm studied him for a moment. “I can check on the foal another time. Come, lad. Let us have our talk. ’Tis overdue, is it no’?”
“Aye.” His future on a precipice, Hunter walked with the man who’d raised him. He could not have chosen a better father. Malcolm’s character was beyond reproach, and he’d taught Hunter to be a leader in the very best sense of the word. Silently he followed Malcolm, gratitude and love filling him. They reached the solar door. Malcolm opened it and gestured for Hunter to precede him.
As a lad, he’d been taught the mysteries of life in this very chamber, sitting at the same scarred oaken table that faced him now. He’d listened raptly to his da and the earl’s lessons about what it meant to be a man. Swallowing against the constriction in his throat, he turned his thoughts to the discussion to come.
Malcolm took a seat in the earl’s chair. “Sit, lad.”
Gratefully he sank into the seat on the opposite side of the table.
“You ken Angus wishes to be pensioned off, and your homecoming at this time is most fortuitous. I want you to take over as commander of our defense here at Moigh Hall.” He raised his brow in question. “If it pleases you, that is.”
“It does.” Hunter straightened. “I’ll speak with Angus yet this day. Might you consider keeping him on for a bit? I’d like to have the benefit of his experience and training while making the transition.”
“’Tis wise to do so,” Malcolm said. “I have no objections to such an arrangement.”
“I . . . I am grateful to you.” Hunter cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the lump so he could speak. “Words aren’t enough to—”
“Nonsense. You’ve earned the post.” Malcolm leaned back in his chair and studied him. “When first you became my foster son, I told your ma you’d grow to be a fine man and an asset to our clan.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “As usual, I was right.”
A strangled laugh broke free from Hunter, and he relaxed. “There’s another matter I wish to speak to you about.” He took a breath for courage. “Do you recall the vow I made the day Sky was born?”
“I do.” Malcolm’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Our Helen has made similar vows. First she insisted she would marry her grandsire, and then she declared she would marry me.” He propped his elbows on the surface of the table. “You were a lad of but five, Hunter. ’Tis common for bairns to say such things. Now that I have raised you and six more, I can attest to this. We dinna—”
“The vow I made means every bit as much to me now as it did then.” Hunter gripped the arms of the chair. “I am asking for your permission to court her. I am asking that I might make my intentions clear to Sky.”
Malcolm’s brow furrowed, and his jaw clenched.
“I ken I have no title and no land, but Sky holds land as part of her dowry, does she no’? Marrying me will keep it in the family. I have earned a small fortune with which to support her, and—”
“Hunter.” Malcolm grew solemn. “You were too young to understand or be aware of all that occurred when True and I wed.” He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “When the earl returned from London, he brought with him a contract for marriage he’d arranged between myself and the earl of Mar’s daughter. I broke that contract.”
He met Hunter’s eyes, his mouth set in a straight line. “As you can imagine, hard feelings sprang up between our clan and theirs. To rectify the situation, we suggested a union between Sky Elizabeth and the earl of Mar’s oldest grandson. The earl of Mar is a powerful ally, and in these times, such alliances take on greater significance. His grandson will inherit the title eventually. I will no’ lie to you, lad—I would prefer my daughter, all of my daughters, wed men who will inherit. ’Tis what is best for our clan.”
Hunter’s heart pounded so hard his ears rang. His world, all his carefully laid plans began to crumble. “Is this what Sky wants?”
Malcolm shifted in his chair. “I have no’ asked her.”
Hunter sensed the ambiguity filling his foster father. He latched onto the uncertainty and regret emanating from Malcolm. “And if she objects?”
“Humph.” Malcolm’s expression softened. “I canna force her, and well you ken I willna stand in the way of my daughter’s happiness. Have you spoken to Sky about this?”
“Nay. I thought it best to speak with you first as is proper.”
“Hunter . . . are you certain this is what you truly want?”
“I am.” He lifted his chin and met Malcolm’s stare. “Why do you ask?”
Malcolm shrugged. “You dinna lack for determination, and none can doubt your honor or your word, but what of Meghan?”
“What of her?” His stomach and heart tangled into a hard knot. “I will see that she is returned to her home as I have sworn.”
“Aye, lad. I ken you have vowed to do so, but—”
“Have Sky and the earl of Mar’s grandson met?”
“Of course,” Malcolm said, rising from his place. “Sky and Oliver have met on several occasions during the summer gatherings. Talk to her, lad. Discover what is in her heart, and then we shall meet again.”
His hopes soared. If Sky wanted him, he still had a chance. “My thanks, Malcolm. I will speak with her at the earliest opportunity.”
“Good. In the meantime, a celebratory feast is planned for three days hence. ’Tis good to have all of us gathered together, aye?” Malcolm came around the table and placed his hand on Hunter’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Go. Find Angus. He kens you are to replace him, and he will be honored to learn you wish to train under him.”
“I will.” Hunter rose and clasped Malcolm’s forearm. “You willna regret granting me this post, Da. I swear it.”
Malcolm laughed. “For certes, you make more vows than your three brothers combined.”
“Mayhap.” Heat surged to his face. “But I keep them.”
Hunter pulled his still damp hair back and fastened it into a queue with a piece of leather. Bathed and dressed in his feileadh breacans and a crisp linen shirt, he looked forward to the feast about to begin.
Angus had kept him busy these past three days, and he’d not had a single chance to speak with Sky. He’d inspected the curtain walls, the armory, rosters and schedules, while familiarizing himself with the members of the earl’s garrison. Angus had introduced him as the clan’s new commander, and he had spent every waking hour learning his new responsibilities. He hadn’t even had the time to join Meghan’s mixed martial arts training, but he’d noticed Tieren in her ranks each and every day. Tension banded his chest, and he forced himself to relax. He and Tieren hadn’t spoken since the day of Sky’s return.
He uttered a curse under his breath. Now that he and Tieren were estranged, he didn’t ken who he could trust to protect his back—and all the tension betwixt him and his childhood friend had to do with a lass. ’Twas best that he keep his distance from Meghan. He would talk with Sky this eve, and all would be settled. The feeling that his life was fast unraveling would disap
pear. Aye. He needed to focus on the future stretching before him, and he was eager to take the first step upon his chosen path.
With that thought, he left his chamber and came face-to-face with Meghan. “Good eve to you, Lady Meghan.” He bowed and fixed a polite expression upon his face, hiding the breathlessness seeing her caused. Could she hear how hard his heart pounded? For certes the sound reverberated loudly enough inside his skull to chase out any ability to think.
She wore a gown of pale green. ’Twas the exact shade of the thistles growing in the meadows, and it suited her well. The fabric draped over her lithe form, accentuating each and every curve. Her lustrous hair hung in a braid that began at the crown of her head and reached her shoulders. Ribbons had been woven into the strands. He ached to unravel the arrangement so he could run his fingers through her soft tresses. He clasped his hands behind his back.
“Good evening,” she murmured, color rising to her cheeks. She moved around him and hurried down the hall toward the stairs without another word.
He scowled. Had he offended her in some way, or had Tieren said something to turn her against him? All his good intentions to keep his distance vanished, and he wanted nothing more than to go after her. Voices behind him drew his attention, and he turned to find Robley and Erin.
“Lad,” Robley said, slapping his back, “do you find your new position as garrison commander to your liking?”
“I do indeed. Good eve to you both,” he said, bowing to Erin. “I’m fortunate to have Angus to aid me as I learn my new responsibilities.” The three of them moved toward the stairs to the great hall and met Cecil at the landing.
Cecil turned to him. “Any word yet on the fortune-teller’s whereabouts?”
“Nay. No’ a word,” he said. “You will hear of it the same time I do should a message arrive.”
Cecil walked before him as they started down the stairs. “There will be dancing after the feast, aye?”
The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3) Page 14