“What do I do?” she asked, praying he was right and he could help her.
“Well, it seems to me, but I dinna know much aboot courtin’, so I could be wrong, but, if he is doin’ the runnin’, perhaps ’tis time he do the chasin’.”
She leaned in closer and listened to his advice.
When he was done, they sat against the wall and the strong wind and spoke of other things for a little while, like her brother, King Edward, and William.
“He needs our help, Father,” she said of the young Scot. “His heart is broken over a girl whose father purchased him for a stone and then…” She looked at Father Timothy. It hit her. The thing creeping around in her head about Will, not making itself known until now.
The priest wore the same look on his face she must be wearing on hers. “William was purchased fer a stone?” he asked on a shaken breath.
She nodded. “He told me so himself.” She felt lightheaded at how hard her heart was beating. “Has he never told you?”
The priest shook his head. “He has never spoken of his past and we thought it best not to push. So we didna ask.”
William! Was it possible Cainnech’s brother had been living with him for the last few months?
“Did he…did he say when he was purchased? Where?”
“No, but how many people do you know who were purchased for a stone?”
The priest scrambled to his feet. “Come. We must find William and ask him.”
“Oh, Father, do you think ’tis possible?” She was afraid to hope for such a wondrous thing. “I’m certain William is his brother. Mattie and I even spoke of how they share expressions, and look how they get along.”
“Aye,” Father Timothy agreed as they hurried toward the guard’s tower and through the heavy doors. “But we must be as certain as we can be. Cainnech would go mad if he lost his brother twice.”
Was Cainnech truly going to get his brother back? She wanted to shout with excitement.
They searched for William and found him in his room. Aleysia noticed a quill and parchment on a small table beside the window. She was surprised a servant could read and write. Had Julianna taught him? The instant Aleysia looked at him, she saw Cainnech in the depths of his angry gaze. Was he writing to Julianna?
“William, what do you know about your birth, your kin, anything?” asked Aleysia.
“Nothing really. Just what I told you. Why?”
“Where did yer purchase take place?” Father Timothy asked him, staring into his eyes, searching for the answer.
“Invergarry, I think,” William answered. He waited while the priest held his hand to his forehead and used the other hand to guide himself into the nearest chair.
“How old were ye when ye were sold?” he asked. “A babe? A boy? Which was it? Do ye know?”
William nodded watching them, seeming to sense that these insignificant questions were about to usher in something new in his life. “A babe. I—” He closed his eyes as if he were trying to remember. “I was told I was two winters.”
“And how old are ye now?” Father Timothy asked, his breath held, his dark eyes filled with tears. “You canna be more than a score. Nicholas would have been—”
“Two and twenty,” William answered softly.
“Two and twenty,” the priest echoed and stood up from his seat.
“Is there anythin’ else, lad?” he asked, stepping forward.
William looked off to the side, trying to remember and then finally did. “I may have had a brother or a sister, but I do not know for certain.”
“Ye have two,” Father Timothy told him. “Brothers.”
William stood still in his place, only his eyes moved from Father Timothy to Aleysia. “I have…” He shook his head, not understanding. “How do you know this?”
“Cainnech had—has two brothers,” Father Timothy told him, “who were taken by the English a score of years ago after they killed the boys’ parents and burned down their home in Invergarry. One of his brothers, called Nicholas, was two winters old when he was sold fer a stone.”
William said nothing for a long time. His eyes filled up with tears that sparkled like diamonds in a summer stream. “The commander is my brother,” he said as if he needed to say it, hear it coming from his own mouth, to believe it. “My brother.”
“Aye,” Father Timothy said, his smile turning into laughter. “He is yer brother.”
The priest turned to Aleysia with his luminous, sable eyes going warm. “Ye found him, my dear lass.” He reached up and took William’s stunned face in his hands. “Ye found Nicholas.”
More suitors had arrived, along with some returning lords. Aleysia made them all wait for her in the great hall while Mattie helped her change her gown and clean her face. They took their time. There was much to do and, besides that, Cainnech hadn’t yet returned to the castle.
Aleysia needed him here. She couldn’t go through another hour of listening to these men speak as if they knew her, loved her on sight. Oh, she lamented, this afternoon was going to be so much worse.
Now, there was a different plan altogether and Cainnech needed to be here for it. Where in the blazes was he?
She hadn’t told Mattie about William being Cainnech’s brother. That was their tale to tell if they chose to.
“Aleysia, you are shivering!” her friend pointed out and finished pinning the last pearl to Aleysia’s hair. “There! You are ready!”
Aleysia’s hair was loosely plaited into a side braid clasped at the shoulder and then left to cascade in rich, lustrous locks over her breast. Mattie had interwoven pearls throughout the plait and dusted her skin with crushed pearl powder.
“I dried some of your bluebells and then crushed them with a bit of water, and then I added a small smudge to the corners of your eyes,” Mattie said, smiling, proud of her work. “You can hardly notice it, but it makes your eyes look more vivid green.”
Aleysia stood up and ran her hand down her white velvet gown. “I cannot delay this day any longer.” She turned to her friend. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course!” Mattie said emphatically and stepped in behind her. “Remember to watch your sleeves.”
Aleysia nodded. The damned things practically hung to her knees.
With no other reason to wait, she led them out of the solar.
When she stepped inside the great hall and saw her suitors seated and waiting at the tables, she felt a little ill and pressed her hand to her belly. Was she truly going to have to marry one of these men in order to remain at Lismoor? Who else would see to her friends, the people who raised her?
She smiled at Father Timothy, and then she saw William behind him, armed with at least six different weapons in his belt and behind his back. He no longer looked like he couldn’t use them.
She eyed Cainnech’s slightly larger chair and was about to sit in it when all eyes turned on the doorway again and the towering Highlander standing in it, his dark, brooding eyes on her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Aleysia forgot about being the most beautiful one in the hall when Cainnech stepped inside. He moved with leashed power toward her, keeping his eyes on her alone. Her heart both broke for him and prepared to stand strong against him. She had to. She had to in order to snatch him from hatred’s cold hands and win his heart.
He took in the sight of her like a dying, angry man. She stared right back. If anyone should be angry it was she! He was allowing this!
Finally, he broke their gaze and raked it over Father Timothy and William.
“Ye brought two women here in the midst of twenty men,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “With only the two of ye to protect them?”
“I can protect myself,” Aleysia reminded him stiffly. She glared up at him as he stepped around her. He smelled of the forest.
“And who would have protected Matilda?” he asked before he fell into his chair, “the priest or the lad?”
“Perhaps, if you had been here instead of—
why are you looking at me like that?”
“Ye have recovered nicely,” he murmured, flicking his gaze over the pearls in her hair.
She caught Father Timothy’s eye and remembered their plan. “I am feeling much better.” She took her seat and turned her most radiant smile on her guests.
“Who among these handsome gentlemen would care to speak to me first?” she called out.
Even with all the men rising to their feet together, she could feel Cainnech’s eyes on her. Hot, dreadful, burning eyes, which she successfully ignored for the next hour.
An hour. He let it go one for an hour. She could have killed him. Aye, he could barely sit still and his mumbling was beginning to frighten the suitors. He had many opinions about them, none of which should have been spoken out loud, but were. His challenging, murderous glare stopped any from replying. But he hated them because they were English, not because they were here to take her from him forever. If so, he would have stopped this. They were all wrong. He didn’t care for her. Even after his smoldering kisses, his curious touch, she meant nothing to him. He cared only for fighting, evidenced in his eagerness to kill every man who stepped forward.
“Sir John de Granville of Avranches,” the next guest called out, moving forward. He wasn’t as tall as some of the lankier men there, but beneath his quilted doublet, snug hose and shiny boots, he appeared nicely fashioned. He wore no hood, wrapped or otherwise, on his golden head.
“Welcome to Lismoor, my lord.” Aleysia graced him with a perfect smile as he reached for her hand to kiss it. The flat of Cainnech’s sword stopped the Norman knight when he held it between Sir John’s lips and her knuckles.
Was he jealous? All the men had flattered her, but none had been so bold as to reach for her hand. Aleysia turned to look at him, the first time she had in an hour. She shouldn’t have. Her heart immediately warmed toward him. He was so masterfully made, coiled and ready to spring into action. Oh, but she didn’t want anyone but him. She wanted him.
“Get on with what ye intend to say before I lose what is left of my patience,” he warned in an icy tone. His lightning-streaked eyes never left Sir John’s.
“Pardon me, Commander,” the Norman said, straightening and turning his full attention on him. “I should have made my intentions clearer to you. I am not here by invitation from your king, like these men.”
“I do not understand,” Aleysia said with a sinking feeling in her belly.
“You will.” Sir John’s smile on her was more like a sneer, turning his handsome face into a homely one.
He put his hand into his doublet and Cainnech leaped to his feet. His sword was first against Sir John’s neck. William and Father Timothy had swords pointing to his throat before anyone blinked.
“Easy, my friends,” the knight held up his hands and laughed. “’Tis just a letter I wish to present.”
Cainnech reached into the doublet and pulled out the letter. He opened it, read it, and then threw it in Sir John’s stunned face. “I dinna give a damn what her cousin demands. He is not gettin’ Lismoor, nor are ye. Get oot! All of ye, get oot before I start cuttin’ ye to pieces!” With the hilt of his claymore clutched in his hand, he turned his dark, deadly eyes on her. “She is mine.”
When no one remained but Father Timothy and the others, he told them to leave as well.
Finally alone, he turned on her. “What d’ye mean by lookin’ the way ye do and smilin’ at that cocky Norman bastard?”
“Why should I not look pleasing or smile to find a husband?” she countered.
“Is that what ye want now, a husband? This morn, ye tried to scare them away and now ye want a husband?”
“I cannot abandon my friends,” she told him. “If becoming the wife of one of these noblemen is the only way to keep Lismoor, then aye, I will marry. Who is there to stop me?”
“Me,” he told her, rushing forward and taking her in his arms. “There is me.”
Cain covered her mouth with his and drew her slim body closer to him. He kissed her with merciless desperation and longing, lifting her feet off the floor in a crushing, yet tender embrace.
Whatever he felt for her, whatever he tried to deny, followed him wherever he went. He’d tried to outrun it, terrified to open himself to love again. But he no longer wanted to run. He’d never met anyone like her. No woman had ever made him feel what she did. So what if it scared the hell out of him? He’d kicked fear in its teeth before. He’d do it again. He’d do it for her.
When she coiled her arms around his neck and let him have his way, he teased her with his tongue and ran his hands over her dips and curves. She felt good in his arms, as if she belonged there, fitting perfectly against him and making him whole.
“Fergive me fer bein’ a fool,” he broke their kiss to tell her. “I will face anythin’ fer ye. I canna let ye go, lass.”
“I do not want you to let me go,” she whispered.
He loved the sound of her, the scent of her, the memory of her laughter leading him through the wild strawberries to the glade.
Should he tell her about the demons he fought? The ones he wouldn’t let out? They were fighting for release even now. He held fast.
“I came back and found ye lookin’…hell, beautiful and all yer suitors pantin’ at the bit. ’Twas difficult not to kill them.”
“You were jealous?” she asked, slanting her glance at him.
“Aye, I was jealous.”
When he lowered his head to kiss her again, she pressed her palms against his chest and pushed away. “Just so we are clear. You have been known to run from me. I will know what this means.”
He smiled and dipped his mouth to hers. “Ye mean this?” he asked and planted a series of soft, sultry kisses on her mouth.
“Aye,” she said breathlessly. “This.” She let him kiss her again.
“Stay right here,” he told her and stepped away. He was going to do this. He couldn’t run any longer. He was going to lose her forever if he did. And that frightened him even more than loving her did. He’d taken away her home and claimed it from under her. He was going to make right the things he had done wrong to her.
Finally, his belly stopped aching.
He had no idea what he would tell the king. He’d fallen in love with the lady of Lismoor. He almost didn’t believe it. He hadn’t been sure it was love until the threat of losing her to someone else stirred up the darkest parts of him.
If anyone was going to marry her, it was going to be him.
When he reached the entryway, he called out for Amish. His second, Rauf, and William appeared almost instantly, apparently listening by the door.
“Gather the men,” he told them. “Bring them here.”
“What are you doing?” she asked him with laughter in her voice when he asked her to sit in her chair.
“Showin’ ye what this means.” He went to stand by the tables at the far end of the hall, alone but for her watching him.
The men began filing in, following his instruction. They sat on their benches and waited, whispering under their breaths, curious why they had been called in.
Finally, Cain quieted them with a look and strode forward.
“I am Cainnech MacPherson, second commander of the elite Highland warriors under Robert the Bruce, King of the Scots.” He reached her chair in a few strides and bent before her. “I come seekin’ yer hand in marriage.”
Everyone behind him went utterly still. The collective silence of their stunned disbelief was proof that he’d truly just asked her to marry him. Her smile was resplendent, or mayhap she glowed like a beacon of light only to him.
He moved his hand to her face and swiped his thumb over a tear on her cheek. “Ye have met many suitors, fair lass. Which one of us d’ye choose?”
“I choose you,” she replied without hesitation. Her voice was a silken melody to his ears. Her face, the most breathtaking face he’d ever beheld. His heart thundered against his léine.
The men cheered and dem
anded that she offer him her hand. She did, and he took it in his rough, callused one and brought it to his lips. His touch, his kiss was his promise made before God and his priest, who rushed forward and pronounced a blessing. But he pulled her into his arms anyway and kissed her.
“Come away with me to the glade,” he groaned at her ear. “I wish to be alone with ye.”
“Aye,” she agreed, nervous about what exactly would happen between them.
“But first, Cainnech,” she leaned in to whisper to him. “there is something you must know that cannot wait. Send the men away. All but William and Father Timothy.”
He did as she bid him, sending the men away with wine and a warning to stay out of trouble.
“’Tis already too late fer that, I’d say,” the priest remarked when they were alone.
“I dinna care,” Cain told him. “If someone wants to contest our betrothal, let him fight me on the field.”
“’Tis Normandy,” his old friend reminded him, lowering his voice. “King Robert is in secret talks with the Normans. Did ye ferget? He wants them on our side.”
No he hadn’t forgotten. He didn’t care. He hadn’t agreed to her being married off, put on display like some prized chattel. Now was not the time to argue. She waited for them with William at her side.
Cain was glad she was friends with William and had gotten him to open up more. She had a way about her, a fearlessness to step right into one’s hell and kick up some ashes.
Something to do with love.
To wake him up, to breathe new, cleansing life into him. If he didn’t run.
His eyes gleamed on her. He could feel the fire rising in him. Fire he hadn’t felt in years, save when it came to killing.
“Cainnech,” she started as she held out her hand and put him in front of his chair. “Why do you not sit?” she suggested and then pushed him down.
“What is goin’ on?” He laughed and looked at William and Father Timothy. They remained silent.
“Cainnech,” Aleysia began and sat beside him. “Father Timothy and I discovered some things about William.”
The Age of Knights and Highlanders: A Series Starter Collection Page 101