Alec spun at hearing the news. The news became worse and worse the more they found out. “Were they injured? Killed?”
“I do not think so…”
“Does anyone know anything for certain?” Alec wanted to toss his younger brother out of the room for everything that happened.
One of the four lead guards replied, “Nay, Laird. Tristan was only injured. I believe the elder man was as well. When we left, they were alive, the both of them.”
Alec’s father came to him. “We should start by gathering the warriors and speaking to them. Tonight, they will be defending the keep.
“First I must find her.”
His father seemed to sense he would not relent but there was a strong set to his jaw. “This is not the time to worry about a woman. Tis our clan at risk.”
“Why do ye not place responsibility on Ethan? He remains without worry despite being the…”
His father cut him off. “I know what he has done. And it has been done. Our work now is to stop what is about to happen. Our clan cannot withstand another clash with such a large warrior force.”
Over his father’s shoulder, for the first time he saw something cross Ethan’s face. His brother’s brow furrowed and he looked down to the floor, unable to meet his gaze.
Once their father left the great room with the four warriors, Ethan went to follow. Alec stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I ask for yer help now, Brother,” Alec said. “I must go after Aiden. Help reinforce the keep.”
Ethan nodded and met his gaze. “I will.”
Moments later, Alec and his mount exited out a side gate that backed up to a steep decline. There was a familiar path for those who lived there. If one wasn’t aware of it, a fall down into a deep gorge was inevitable.
Although not quite sure, Alec was hopeful to find Paige and return shortly. He’d met Aiden at a cottage not far from the keep. The small home had belonged to a warrior long dead. Now empty, Alec had kept it for himself and, over the years, had often used it when wishing for time alone. It was furnished with all that was needed, but most of the time it stood empty.
When the hay-thatched roof cottage finally came into view, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. There was a horse tethered to a tree. It was Aiden Ross’ steed.
Alec dismounted a distance away. Although he was sure it was possible to go closer and not be seen, this was not the time to take a chance.
At the sound of a woman’s scream, he almost raced to the door, but it could prove detrimental. It took every ounce of self-control not to tear the door down with his bare hands and barge in. What if he was too late and the cause of the scream was a fatal strike?
Low to the ground, Alec hurried to the small dwelling until he was able to flatten against the exterior wall of the house.
Paige was crying. It was both a relief and like a punch to his stomach to hear.
“Ye will not escape, nor leave until ye belong fully to me. Tis not as romantic as I would have wished, I fear.” Aiden mocked her. “Unless ye wish me to tear the rest of that rag ye call a dress, remove it now.”
“Why would ye want to be with a woman who detests ye?” Paige cried. “I won’t undress for ye.”
“Do it.”
Alec looked in through a small window. Thankfully, Aiden had his back turned. Paige stood in a far corner. Her eyes were swollen, her bottom lip bleeding and there was bruising on the side of her face.
Sword in hand, he crept to the door and pushed it open, praying it didn’t make a sound. As soon as he was able, he slipped in.
Aiden threw Paige onto the bed and tried to hold her down. It proved difficult since the wee lass struggled with all her might. Paige managed to slap him across the face.
Out of the corner of his eye, Aiden must have caught sight of Alec because he whirled around. His eyes widened at realizing it was too late to defend himself from a drawn sword.
Aiden immediately straightened. “I rescued her from an attack. Yer clan attacked the Ross party. I was trying to calm her.”
Sword pointed at his neck, Alec advanced. “Ye brought her here. Ye also lied to my brother about the Ross’ attacking.”
He swallowed visibly. “I did not. Did they not come with warriors toward yer keep?”
“Twas but a small party. Ye have caused us great damage.” Alec motioned for Paige to come to him. “Go outside,” he told her. “Wait for me.” Without a word, she scrambled out the door.
“Now, how should we settle this?” Alec asked, circling his sword. “By removing yer head or spearing yer heart?”
“We can come to an agreement. I can help ye. Ye need me to bring information. Now more than ever.”
Alec spat on the ground. “Ye are not worth a pig’s eye. Ye are a disloyal coward.”
The idiot dove for his sword at which time Alec speared him.
Aiden rolled onto his back and used both hands in an effort to stanch the blood flow. It was useless, of course, but just to be sure, Alec speared him through the heart.
After a few gurgling sounds, Aiden Ross was dead.
Alec stared down at the dead man. If the Ross’ found out he killed Aiden Ross they would have no mercy on his clan. How much could his small clan withstand?
Heavy with burden, he walked out and found Paige sitting on the ground, weeping.
“There is nothing to cry about now.” Alec pulled her to stand and held her against his chest. As he comforted the crying woman, reassuring her, he wished there was someone who’d reassure him.
Alec grabbed Aiden’s horse and headed for his own. Lifting her up to the horse’s back, he mounted behind her. Paige could not stop trembling and he knew it would take time for her to get over what had happened. Women were emotionally strong when they needed to be, but because they lacked the physical strength, they were too often the recipients of mistreatment.
How he hated his gender right now.
They headed back to the keep, his woman tightly wrapped within his tartan as drizzle began to fall. Two of his warriors came into view, obviously sent by either his brother or father. Alec met their serious gazes. “Bury the body.”
The men nodded and continued on past to the cottage.
Within moments, Alec and Paige arrived at the heavily-fortified walls of the keep. Paige finally moved enough to look up at him. “Thank ye. I am sorry to have caused ye trouble. I feel…”
“I thought I had lost ye.” Alec lifted her face to him and kissed her.
“Are ye coming in?” a guard asked from atop the gates with a smirk.
Alec couldn’t help but grin at the older man. “Aye, we are.”
Once inside the gates, the people were eerily quiet. Groups were huddled around fires and under tarps waiting to hear the sounds of approaching horses. Not even the babes cried.
After dismounting, he released his horse and Aiden’s to the stable master who walked away without speaking.
“Son, ye found her.” His mother met them just inside the doorway. She looked over Paige who hid her face in both hands. With torn clothing, and little in the way to cover up, she remained tucked inside his tartan.
“Let me take her. I will look after yer lass.” His mother’s sympathetic gaze moved to Paige. “Come here, lass. I have a cover for ye. What ye require right now is a hot bath and warm food.”
Paige turned and met his gaze for a long moment. “Speak to Laird Ross. He is not what he once was.”
“I will try,” Alec said, even if he had no idea how to bring a conversation with his enemy to happen.
When the women walked away, his father neared. “Let us go up to the wall and see what happens. The Ross’ will probably not be in sight. They will not come until nightfall. At that time, they will attempt to attack from two sides.”
“How do ye know?” Alec asked as they made their way up a side stairway.
His father pushed a finger to his right temple. “Tis what I would do. At night, they will hope for cover of darkness.”
“There is a way to light the path. But we must be sure they are there. I pray we can get through this night without bloodshed.”
He would not burden his father with the knowledge blood had already been shed that day.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Something wet fell onto Tristan’s face. It was not unpleasant. The cool liquid eased the heating of his skin.
“Can ye open yer eyes?” A sweet voice floated over him, somehow reaching his ears, but at the same time seeming so far away.
Once again, cooling liquid oozed over his face, chest and arms. It could be it was raining and a wood nymph was upon him. It was said they appeared and stood by waiting for death to come.
“Use the tincture. Tis best to keep him asleep,” a male voice said. “He is not of yer clan. He could be dangerous.”
A vile taste filled Tristan’s mouth and he smacked his lips in disgust. If only he could muster the energy to open his eyes and find out where he was. There were no forest sounds, nor that of a fire. It smelled fresh, almost as if he were outdoors but without a breeze.
“Thank ye for yer help,” the sweet voice said. “He is quite braw. I wouldn’t have been able to carry him here.”
The man made a throat clearing sound. “Yer family will be searching for ye.”
“They are busy with the business of battles and such. My brothers, too. They believe me to be abed. Since I found him, I returned to last meal. I told mother I was going to my chamber, as I feared for what would happen. Our clan is once again at war.”
“What if something does happen and here ye are away from shelter?”
“Please keep watch over him. Ye are right, I should return.”
Tristan could not figure out what they spoke of. Although the voices were clear, his mind was not. The sound faded and lifted, each word sounding new.
Once more, he tried to lift his lids and, finally, they parted enough to see a bit. There was, indeed, a fire in a hearth, but it was on the other side of the room.
Wisps of red hair blocked him from seeing more. Soon, a heart-shaped face came into view. Clear blue eyes met his. “Do ye see me?”
It had to be a wood nymph, as he had never seen any human woman with such fine, delicate features.
“Grier, look.” She turned away. “He has awakened. But just a wee bit.”
There was no reply and Tristan tried to look to where she did, but his eyelids began to close. Once again, he looked at the woman who continued to peer at him with curiosity. “My name is Merida. What is yers?”
He tried to speak, but his throat would not allow for sound. “T-T-Tr…” Tristan gave up.
“Do not worry. Ye will be well enough to speak soon. Rest.” She pressed a cool hand to his jaw.
He fought to tell her he did not require rest. Whatever happened earlier was not clear. Had the McLeod warriors slaughtered everyone? Was his uncle dead?
There had been too many against them. He hoped they’d been tricked to think his uncle was felled and allowed him to live. Tristan groaned at a stinging pain from his back.
The woman, Merida, and the man rolled him onto his stomach and turned his head to the side.
“Ye have a large wound; I must clean it. Twill hurt,” she warned, placing a warm hand onto his shoulder. “I am so sorry.”
Whether it hurt or not, Tristan did not feel anything at first. As long as the woman continued to talk, he could concentrate on the soft lilt in her speech, the sweet sound of each word. Suddenly, excruciating pain seemed to pierce him in half and he cried out and then, thankfully, lost consciousness.
“The battles will continue.” Elspeth shook her head and Ceilidh, too, felt the heaviness of what was to come upon her shoulders. How could it be that the clans could not meet to discuss an agreement to stop?
“Surely Clan McLeod cannot continue to want this. Their numbers are quickly dwindling.”
“I do not know,” Elspeth replied and looked across the garden where they’d sat to rest after spending hours treating the injured and ensuring their wounds were clean and the men well fed.
Two remained on the brink of death, one young warrior stubbornly hanging on to life. Ceilidh hoped he would live. But not to ever have to fight again.
“I best see about Lady Ross. She is caring for Verity who developed a fever. Tis most worrisome.”
Ceilidh didn’t wish to go back inside. The fresh air and birdsong reminded her of life in the village of a time before the battles.
Deciding to go for a walk, she slipped out a side gate and made her way to the tree line. The sounds of the water from the loch nearby were soothing to her senses.
There were other things to consider as well. Eagan insisted on courting her and although she cared for him a great deal, Ceilidh couldn’t bring herself to think of him as her husband. He was too…what? She pondered. What exactly was it that made him unattractive as a partner?
“Ye will fall if ye don’t watch yer steps here.” A male voice startled her.
Ian stood next to a thick tree, his face devoid of expression. It had only been two days since she last saw him and he’d barely been able to walk unassisted.
Hurrying to him, she looked around for servants or whoever had helped him outside. “Why are ye out here alone?” She frowned up at him. “Ye could fall.”
“I am capable of walking on my own. Tis an arm I am missing not a leg,” he snapped.
“Ye were cut through several times. Barely healed. If ye tore the stitches open, I will not care when yer guts spill.”
The corners of his lips lifted. “Ye will.”
Of course she would. Upon seeing him, her pulse had raced and continued to do so. It was hard to keep from allowing him to see how hard it was to keep her breathing normal. Pretending to be angry with him helped hide the fact her hands trembled just a bit.
“Why do ye care so much?” His expression became serious. “I am but half a man now. Tis unlikely I will ever fight again.”
She neared and frowned up at him. “I think ye will be just fine. Too stubborn to remain pitiful.” Taking his hand, she led him down a slight decline to the water’s edge. “Like me, ye have been inside too long. I do believe being cloistered brings dark thoughts.”
“My fellow warriors are preparing for battle and here I am walking about without a care,” he grumbled. “Tis not the way it should be.”
Ceilidh had never been one to coddle and she turned to him and motioned with her finger for him to come closer. When he leaned forward, she motioned again. “Closer.”
“What?” He wasn’t in the mood for games and it made it so much more delightful. “This I have to whisper,” she lied.
When he was but a hair’s breadth away, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his. At first, he stiffened, seeming to consider whether to move away or not. Then ever so slowly, Ian’s lips softened, his arm wrapped around her waist and he responded to her kiss.
Tracing his lips with hers, Ceilidh had never felt so free, so wanton. It was as if he were meant to be the one man she could allow such behavior with.
His mouth traveled down the side of her neck sending tingles throughout her body. “Oh,” she murmured and then repeated.
“Tis not what ye really want, Ceilidh,” he whispered in her ear. “Not me.”
“Only ye make me feel alive. Look at me and see I am being truthful.”
He lifted his face and peered into her eyes but did not keep her gaze for long. His eyes traveled down to her lips and then downward.
“Do it,” Ceilidh challenged, her chest expanding with each breath. “I want ye to.”
When he continued looking at the fastenings, Ceilidh untied the lacings and pulled her top apart, exposing her breasts. Ian’s breath hitched and he covered one with his hand, kneading the fleshy mound gently before circling the tip with his thumb.
“Ah,” Ceilidh gasped. How was it possible that the simple touch could
bring so much pleasure? She gripped his shoulder. “Tis wonderful.”
When he lowered and took the tight bud into his mouth, she gasped and dug her fingers into his shoulder and threaded the other hand through his hair. “Oh, yes.”
He lifted and trailed kisses back up to her jawline until pressing his lips to her ear. “Ye and I have much to discover. Will ye allow me to be with ye, Ceilidh? Not now, for I cannot satisfy ye well, but soon?”
“Aye, Ian. Ye are the man for me.”
“Ye give me hope,” he said, meeting her gaze. “Make me feel whole.”
Ceilidh couldn’t help the curve of her lips; she pressed a kiss onto his chin. “Do not forget it. I am not willing to share ye.”
When Ian chuckled, it was the first time she’d heard him laugh. The sound was both reassuring and melodious to her ears.
“I would not dare cross ye,” he teased.
Taking her hand, he led her to lie upon the soft grass. “Just because I cannot make love to ye, does not mean we cannot explore other pleasures.”
“Aye, I wish to see more of ye as well.” She pulled him down for another kiss as he palmed her bare breast once again.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“We cannot continue forward,” Malcolm finally admitted as rain pelted down over them. “Tis best we turn to the forest and search for my brother.”
The horses were barely able to get traction on the muddy slopes as they turned around to find shelter in the forest.
“Over there,” a man shouted. “Someone comes.”
A lone rider came into view. Malcolm lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the downpour.
Finally, the man neared, not at all intimidated by the fact every man was heavily-armed.
“I come to talk,” the sodden man called out.
Malcolm recognized him immediately and was shocked to see Laird McLeod unaccompanied.
The older man met his gaze for a moment. “Malcolm, how fare ye?”
Looking to his men, he motioned for them to move away. “Retreat to the trees. I will speak to him alone.”
The men exchanged confused looks, but then obeyed.
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