“We dinna ken that fer sure,” Ciaran explained.
Bannon shrugged. He didn’t care for the MacLeans one bit, but…. “Don’t you have laws on Skye?”
“Ye are looking at this all wrong.” Ciaran grinned at him. “Even if the MacLeans—”
“Wait!” Bannon held up a hand and glared at the group of riders around him. “If any of you spit, I’m going to kick you. That is a disgusting habit.”
Laughing, Ciaran shook his head. “I’m nae gonna spit, though it’s true I dinna like the MacLeans.”
Ram and Angus must have gotten the message, because neither of them spit.
Ciaran shrugged. “Think of it as a tax. Even if they dinna steal our cattle, they stole someone’s cattle. It’s the circle of life.”
The circle of…? “I don’t think you are using that saying correctly.”
Ciaran ignored him, but the gleam in his eye, or rather the one Bannon imagined due to the tilt of his head, said he’d heard Bannon loud and clear and was amused. “Reaving is a rite of passage.”
“Again, not sure you are using that saying correctly. Rites of passage are things that fathers hand down to sons, important stages in someone’s life.”
“Aye!” Angus trotted his horse up alongside of Ciaran’s, looking past him at Bannon. “Our fathers take us out tae reave cattle when we are wee things.”
A snort came from behind them.
Bannon looked over his shoulder at Ian, who’d been quiet thus far. “What?”
He shrugged, looking so like a younger, more carefree version of Ciaran. He was a handsome kid, but didn’t have that roughness around the edges that the rest of them did—not even when he was cursing bogles this afternoon. It made Bannon wonder if Ciaran had had that same innocent quality when he was Ian’s age. Somehow he doubted it. “I never had a reaving rite of passage.”
“What do ye call this?” Ram asked.
“I call it sneaking out and giving ye nae choice but tae take me.”
Smirking, Ciaran nodded. “Aye, he has a point. But we dinna make ye go back.”
“Only because I threatened tae follow ye again and bring Fiona with me,” Ian said with pride in his voice.
Bannon chuckled. He really did like Ian. You had to respect a kid who wasn’t afraid to blackmail. “My point is, rite of passage or not, it’s still wrong to steal.” He practiced getting Flùr to speed up a bit by tightening his knees. When Flùr sped up, Bannon quickly released the tension in his legs and Flùr slowed.
“Nae, nae, nae.” Angus shook his head. “We all do it. They steal from us; we steal from them. Like Ciaran said, it’s the circle of life.”
“Still not using that the right way,” Bannon mumbled.
“Everyone does it,” Angus continued as though he hadn’t heard.
“If everyone jumped off a cliff….” Ack! Bannon slapped a hand over his mouth, horrified at what nearly came out of his mouth. He’d nearly repeated one of his father’s favorite sayings. Egads, how bad was it when he was turning into his parents? He sounded like a real stuffed shirt.
“Think of it as sport,” Ian interjected.
“Done.” Bannon nodded. Because it was better than turning into his parents. “What happens if we get caught?”
“They will try tae shoot us with arrows, so try nae tae get….” Ciaran’s voice trailed off, and he stopped riding and held up his hand.
Everyone complied except Bannon, who’d been concentrating so hard on controlling his mount with his legs that he momentarily forgot about the reins. He stopped a yard or so in front and pulled back on the reins to get Flùr to back up. When he got even with Ciaran, he grimaced. “Sorry,” he mouthed.
They sat in front of a thick stand of trees.
Ian came up between him and Ciaran and whispered, “What is it?”
“I thought I heard something,” Ciaran said softly.
Bannon didn’t hear anything except the soft breeze rustling the tree leaves and crickets. Matter of fact, he didn’t see much either. The sky was cloudy, but the moon went behind a particularly thick cloud at the moment, and the light dimmed like someone slowly dragged a blanket over a lamp. Supposedly they were close to the base, according to Ram, but nothing looked familiar.
Reaching back, he made sure his fragger rifle was still tied to the saddle behind him. A possible encounter with the IN made bogles look like kittens. Oh, he knew they had to break into the base if there was any chance of getting home, but he was not looking forward to it. They didn’t have enough intel. Honestly, he didn’t think all the intel in the galaxy would make him comfortable with the idea. He knew he could kill if need be, but he didn’t like it and damned sure didn’t want to be the one killed. A chill swept over him at the thought.
Ciaran shook his head. “I guess it was just the wind.” He waved them on.
When Bannon started forward, Ciaran reached out and grabbed his arm.
As everyone else disappeared into the copse of trees, Bannon glanced over at Ciaran and felt as though someone had walloped him upside the head. Would he ever get used to those intense nearly black eyes? For several moments, he just took in that handsome face, and Ciaran did the same as though he were content just to watch Bannon. It made Bannon warm all over. It made his stomach tingle and his chest tighten. The idea of staying here with Ciaran was sounding less and less crazy.
“Please be careful. Follow my lead.”
“Got it.”
“And dinna get shot with an arrow or stabbed.” With that, Ciaran hurried into the tree line.
Seriously? Don’t get shot? Or stabbed? Timothy snorted.
Shaking his head, Bannon followed.
The trees were spaced just far enough apart to get a horse in them, but close enough to conceal. That was when it hit him. The IN base was on the other side of these trees.
They formed a semicircle adjacent to a tall structure. It wasn’t a complete castle but a single tower. Lights glowed from the windows on the bottom of the building, and all around hairy cattle grazed. There was no fence, but somehow the cattle had stayed near. Curious. Bannon squinted through the trees, taking in the structure like everyone else, trying to memorize it. Looking for the best way to get to the cattle without alerting someone inside. This really was an ideal layout. If there was anyone on top of the tower house, they’d see them leaving the tree line. But there didn’t appear to be anyone standing guard. Perhaps they were all at the base? The MacLeans were in league with the IN, after all.
Ciaran must have thought so too. He made some odd hand gestures to Angus and Ram. Then he leaned in close to Bannon, so close he gripped Bannon’s saddle horn, and his warm breath brushed Bannon’s ear. “Stay here while we round up the cattle. Then ye and Ian will come in on the sides and help us herd them.”
Bannon’s stomach swirled again, and his pulse kicked up a notch. He wasn’t sure whether it was from the excitement or Ciaran’s nearness. He turned his head to assure Ciaran he’d heard, and Ciaran kissed him quickly on the lips and rode off.
Stunned by the show of affection in front of the others, Bannon froze, closing his eyes for a brief moment. Galaxy help him, he liked this. Liked that he could show affection in public if he wanted. He liked Skye. Oh, his conscience still warred with him on whether it was right or not to steal cattle, but that was an argument he and Timothy could have at another time.
Bannon opened his eyes, and that’s when he saw the movement to Ciaran’s left. All the hair on Bannon’s arms stood on end as he watched the lone man pace away from the cattle and Ciaran.
Ciaran seemed to see the man as well, because he, Angus, and Ram stayed on the right side far away from the man. They drew up close to the tower house. Then Ciaran raised a hand and slid off Horace. What was he doing? Bash the man over the head and tie him up? Actually that was probably exactly what he was going to do. It was a good strategy, if he could get there without the man hearing him coming.
Angus and Ram held back, both waiting, and then Ciar
an pulled something from his boot and made his way around the tower, ducking below windows.
The man still seemed oblivious, but he could turn at any moment.
With his heart in his throat, Bannon searched the area again, looking for more guards, but he found no one. He untied his rifle from the saddle without taking his eyes off Ciaran. Slowly bringing it to his shoulder he used the scope and glanced around.
Ciaran inched his way closer, his gaze locked on to the man. He reminded Bannon of a sleek jungle cat, stalking its prey. He passed the window, and light gleamed off the object he held down by his side. Flashing like a mirror in the firelight.
Bannon’s stomach clenched as realization dawned. It was a dagger. Ciaran was going to kill the guard. He sucked in a breath. It was unnecessary. Why not just bash him over the head and knock him out or tie him up and gag him?
He had to stop this. Pulling the rifle from his shoulder, he checked the settings. He took it off safety, put it on stun, and returned the rifle to his shoulder. He centered the man in his scope and squeezed the trigger. There was a soft pffft sound, and the man slumped backward.
Ciaran flinched, then caught the man before he fell over. Ciaran lowered him to the ground, then looked toward the tree line. It was as if he could see Bannon through the trees. He stood there for several moments, then waved, turned back toward Horace, and lifted his hand in the air. He pointed one finger and made a circle.
“Nice shot,” Ian whispered.
The praise felt hollow. Bannon closed his eyes and tried to still his racing heart. He hated all the violence. Skye was so… so… savage. He never thought he’d long for the strict rules of Regelence. But if he left, he’d miss Ciaran, and if he stayed….
Ram and Angus spread out and began driving the cattle slowly away from the tower. They worked silently and as one as though they’d done this many a time.
Bannon shifted his attention between the MacKays and the tower, but his heart did not stop pounding, and that sick feeling in his stomach remained. He’d just saved a man’s life by shooting him. Somehow the thought did not ease his mind. He could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. That this was way more dangerous than Ciaran had led him to believe. He kept looking through the scope of his rifle, scanning the grounds. He found the man on the ground, but that wasn’t the reason for the eerie feeling. Perhaps he was still startled by the realization Ciaran had intended to kill the man?
The MacKays drew closer, and Bannon started to join them, but something drew his attention. He wasn’t sure what it was; nothing moved. The cattle were now far enough away they were not in the line of his scope. He shook his head and started to lower his rifle. Then he saw it. A lump formed in his throat, and fear clutched at his chest.
To the far left sat a man on horseback. Bannon could make out that he had long light-colored hair and a beard. There was something shiny on his wrist. Was it a knife? He put his finger on the trigger, wondering if he should change it off stun. Ciaran was in danger. The thought overwhelmed him, and a sense of loss nearly paralyzed him, making his throat constrict. His hands started to shake. Galaxy, he was losing his mind. The man was too far away to harm Ciaran. He couldn’t possibly get to Ciaran before Bannon shot him….
Making himself take a deep breath, Bannon relaxed and removed his finger from the trigger and made himself really look at the man.
He still had not moved. Nothing in his posture looked aggressive. He tilted his head slightly, as though he were listening to something, and a strange sense of déjà vu struck Bannon. The man seemed familiar, but… not. Was he a MacLean?
Ian hissed out a breath beside him.
“You see him too?”
Ian didn’t answer; he slapped Bannon’s arm.
Bannon looked at him.
Ian was pointing.
He followed Ian’s finger all the way to the top of the tower.
Something moved.
Using his scope, he found a man on the tower. The man was nearly as still as the man on horseback. He pointed an arrow right at Ciaran.
Bannon didn’t think, he just pulled the trigger. Another pfft sounded, and the man on the tower jerked backward, then disappeared from sight, but not before he released the string. Fortunately he’d already started falling, and the arrow went up and back down close to the tower, sticking in the ground.
Bannon swiveled his gaze to the man on horseback. For several moments, they just stared at each other. Or at least he thought the man was looking toward him. Even the crickets seemed to quiet, though Bannon was vaguely aware of the breeze ruffling his hair. His heart beat so hard, he fancied he could feel it pulsing in his temples.
Ian whispered, “Who is that, and why isna he moving?”
“I don’t know,” Bannon answered. They watched the man for several more moments. Still no movement. “Do you think it’s really a person?”
“I dinna ken. He hasnae moved. Maybe it’s a trick of the shadows?”
“Maybe.”
Bannon lowered the rifle and raised a hand.
“What are ye doing?”
“I have no idea.”
The man raised his hand back. The moonlight glinted off the metallic band around his right wrist.
Ian sucked in a breath.
Bannon would have too, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to breathe out again.
The man dipped his head, then turned back toward the left and disappeared into the tree line.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Failing eyesight must be a godsend in the trials and tribulations of love. Stray hairs coming out of nostrils, ears, eyebrows, and… yuck! Why are older men so hairy?”
—Timothy on geriatric relationships.
Red had disappeared as soon as they got the cattle into the corral, but Ciaran had a pretty good idea where he’d gone. Climbing the west tower stairs, he pondered tonight’s raid. He had the distinct impression Red was upset about something, but he didn’t know what. Tonight had gone very smoothly. No one had gotten shot or stabbed, and they had their cattle back.
He turned the last corner in the tower stairwell, and his suspicion was confirmed. Red had come up here to think. He seemed to like the west tower the best, though he had visited the other towers. Ciaran couldn’t blame him. The west tower did have the best view. All of Loch Sterling was visible from there. Tonight it was particularly beautiful, with the low fog hovering just above it. It was like looking down from the clouds.
Red sat on the battlements, just like last time, with his legs hanging over the edge. He looked peaceful and serene, but Ciaran wasn’t fooled—something niggled at him. It was odd, really, because he was starting to recognize Red’s moods. The need to fix things and make it better stirred inside Ciaran. It was something he always did when those around him were troubled. Aunt Agatha called him a fixer, but with Red it was different. The feeling was more intense, almost a yearning.
“I really hate all the unnecessary killing and the violence here. What if…?”
Arching a brow, Ciaran stepped up onto the deck. He hadn’t thought Red had even realized he was there. Though he wasn’t sure why not. Red was very observant. “What if?” Ciaran walked forward until he stood right behind Red. He was close enough to touch him now, but he didn’t.
Red turned and looked at him. For several moments he didn’t say anything. Those grass-green eyes bore into Ciaran as if he was searching for something. His lips softened. It wasn’t quite a smile, but there was less tension than before. He reached out.
Ciaran took his hand, marveling at how different they were. Red’s was smooth and soft; his was rough and darkly tanned. He liked that contrast. Liked that even as fragile as Red seemed on the outside, he was as tough and stout on the inside. The easy life he’d led had not made him soft. Quite the opposite actually. Ciaran was convinced Red could outstubborn even him. He grinned and glanced back up, catching that intense gaze, and as if he’d conjured it by thinking about it, that stubborn chin rose a notch.
Tugging again, Ciaran didn’t relent.
Red stood. His hand tightened on Ciaran’s, but he looked at the ground as if their feet were altogether interesting all of a sudden. They weren’t.
Hooking his finger under Red’s chin, he lifted his face. “I ken what ye mean. We dinna have the wonders and marvels that ye have on ye planet. We dinna have things like com-pads and spaceships, and we dinna have fraggers. But we have this.” He turned Red, pressing his back against Ciaran’s chest, and waved his arm toward Loch Sterling. “And ye’ll have me. And I promise I’ll always listen tae ye.”
The words had the desired effect. Ciaran felt Red grin against his cheek, and joy raced right down to his toes. He leaned back into Ciaran, grabbed Ciaran’s arms, and wrapped them around himself. “Actually, you have fraggers now. And chargers, remember?”
Ciaran chuckled. “Aye, I remember. And when ye people come, I’ll buy dozens more and com-pads and anything else ye want.”
“Sketchscreens, paints, and canvas.” He said the words with such enthusiasm.
Turning Red back to face him, Ciaran slipped his hand around to Red’s jaw, tilting his head, and kissed him. “Aye, and an easel.”
With a soft moan, Red nodded, closing his eyes and leaning in.
Aw, but that was the sweetest sound. His lips found Red’s, and his libido started at happy and calm and went to overenthusiastic in a heartbeat. The first kiss had been to comfort and reassure, but this kiss…. A tingle started low in his gut, spreading outward. Need gnawed at him.
Red wrapped one arm around his back and the other….
Ciaran’s eyes widened, and he broke off their kiss as that long-fingered hand slid up under his kilt.
“Have I mentioned I like kilts?”
“Ye hate them.”
“On me, sure, but I like them on you.” Red nuzzled his chin.
Ciaran’s eyes closed as Red’s fingers wrapped around his cock, which went from firm to rock-hard in a matter of seconds. He was plotting how to get the trapdoor closed and Red on the floor.
My Highland Laird: Sci-Regency Book 5 Page 24
