Latharn's Destiny: Highlander Fate Book Six

by Knight, Stella

  "I ken I'm asking much of ye, tae put yer faith in me. But the blood of my father runs in my veins," he said. He hated to keep bringing his father into this, wanting to win them over to his side on his own merits, but his father's memory was the only asset he had for now. "I promise ye that I will fight for every man who swears himself tae me. I will live for the clan, for 'tis people. 'Tis why I've returned—not for lands, coin or even glory. But tae lead and protect the people who my father loved, who he died for. If I thought Padraig was that leader, I'd have stayed away. But I ken he's not. I need yer help if I'm tae become the leader our clan deserves."

  A long silence followed his words. Baigh and Camron looked satisfied by his words, while the others still studied him with uncertainty.

  “Give us some time tae talk this over among ourselves,” Baigh’s cousin Kennen said. “Ye must understand—I donnae bear Padraig no respect. He’s vain, petty and needlessly cruel. But he has many on his side on account of his father—though he was a treacherous bastard, he was a decent leader. It will be a great risk tae ourselves and our families if we swear fealty tae another laird.”

  As he and Gormal returned to Horas’s home, he prayed he'd done what he could to convince them.

  His anxiety dissipated when he spotted two horses in Horas’ stables. He hoped that Eibhlin was here, her presence always calmed him.

  He couldn’t stop the wide smile that spread across his face at the sight of her as he entered Horas’s home. She was seated next to Tulach as Aoife handed them cups of ale. As soon as he entered, they both got to their feet and gave him respectful bows.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off Eibhlin. Even in the plain brown servant’s gown she wore, she was the loveliest lass he’d ever seen. He could only see a portion of her hair beneath her coif; he had to resist the urge to ask her to remove it. He started to greet her, but Gormal stepped forward to address them.

  “What information do ye have for us?” he asked brusquely.

  “One of the stable boys told me that Padraig had visitors late last night—’tis like he didnae want anyone else tae ken they were coming,” Tulach said.

  Latharn tore his gaze away from Eibhlin, his body going stiff with dread.

  “Who are they?” he asked.

  “He didnae recognize them.”

  “I need ye tae find out who they were,” Gormal said. He turned to Eibhlin, and Latharn didn’t miss how his expression hardened.

  “And have ye learned anything, lass?”

  “No,” Eibhlin said, her face flaming with shame. “Not yet. But I’m hoping that if I keep listening in during the feasts—”

  "We donnae have much time," Gormal interrupted, giving her a look of disapproval. "If ye’re not going tae provide us with anything useful, ’tis not worth the risk of having yet another—”

  “Ye cannae expect her tae have already learned something, she’s just started spying for us,” Latharn interrupted, glowering at Gormal. "Give her more time." He turned back to Eibhlin, his tone softening. “I hope ye’ll both stay for a meal."

  To his delight, they obliged. He knew that he shouldn’t sit next to Eibhlin; he kept reminding himself that she was a distraction. But he couldn’t stop himself from taking a seat at her side.

  “Donnae fret about Gormal,” he said in a low voice. “It will take time tae learn anything of import.”

  She gave him a grateful nod, though her eyes still looked troubled. He wanted nothing more than to put her at ease.

  “When I was a servant, my favorite task was tae help clear out the stables,” he said, deciding to distract her. “I could only do it when my other duties had been tended tae—and of course there were stable boys tae handle such tasks. The other servants thought it was odd, but I enjoyed it—in spite of the smell. I think I just enjoyed being outdoors.”

  Her amber eyes widened in surprise, and she chuckled.

  “I keep forgetting that ye were a servant,” she said, shaking her head.

  “I’ll never forget,” he said earnestly. He’d never forget the years he’d spent toiling as a servant. It was the only work he’d known for most of his life.

  “When ye’re a servant, ye donnae have much choice in—“ he began, before stopping himself. How could he be so forgetful? Eibhlin was a servant—and that was likely all she would ever be. Female servants rarely changed their station in life, often marrying fellow peasants and devoting their lives to their families.

  “’Tis all right,” she said, as if reading his thoughts.

  “Have—have ye wanted tae do anything else?” he asked. “Ye ken yer father was once a clan noble. Did ye not want tae return tae yer former station in life?”

  “I was just a babe when he died, so I have no memory of it. Even if I were a noblewoman, I’d not have much choice as tae what tae do with my life. I’d have tae wed and become a mother tae whomever my kin found suitable,” she said. “Aye, a servant’s life isnae an easy one. But I have some freedom.”

  Latharn thought of his former laird Artair’s new bride, Diana. She was now lady of Artair’s manor, and he treated her as an equal partner, giving her leadership duties of her own, ignoring the disapproval of other nobles over such an act. There was also Artair’s kin, Niall—his bride Caitria freely indulged in her love of travel and traveled the continent alongside her husband.

  “I ken of some noble women who have freedom,” he said. “And even though I toiled as a servant, I was never unhappy. Ye make what ye can of yer place in life.”

  She held his gaze for a long moment, seeming to consider this.

  “Roasting meat on the spit,” she murmured. “That’s my favorite duty. No one else seems tae enjoy it, and 'tis usually handled by young lads, but I take pride in watching the meat roast. I often volunteer tae handle it in the kitchens—and I’m always obliged.”

  Latharn laughed, and they continued to trade stories of their favorite—and worst—duties they handled as servants.

  “I once gambled away a favorite horse of mine during my first post to avoid cleaning out chamber pots,” he said, grimacing at the memory. “My parents were furious with me for it, but I was secretly pleased. I’ve always managed tae avoid that particular duty.”

  “I hate scrubbing the counters after the butcher has taken out the entrails of an animal,” Eibhlin said with a shudder. “I may seem strong, but I grow woozy at the sight of blood.”

  “Ye’re still stronger than most lassies I’ve met,” he told her. “Many men donnae like the sight of blood.”

  “Ye think much of me, my laird,” she said, her amber eyes locking with his.

  Latharn returned her teasing smile, his eyes dropping to her sensual lips. He could imagine seizing those lips with his own, of exploring her sweet mouth with his tongue . . .

  Tulach’s chair scraped as he stood, forcing Latharn’s gaze—and lustful thoughts—away.

  “I’m afraid ’tis time for us tae return,” Tulach said.

  Disappointment roiled through him, but he stood with a nod.

  He walked them out to the stables, reaching out to help Eibhlin up onto her horse, allowing his hands to linger on the curve of her hips. He ached to pull her delectable body against his, to explore her mouth with his. But, mindful of Tulach’s presence, he stymied his desire and turned to walk back toward the cottage. And this time, he didn’t allow himself the bittersweet pleasure of watching her ride away.

  Chapter 8

  Evelyn tossed and turned that night, her thoughts filled with memories of Latharn’s soft, velvety laughter, the feel of his strong hands on her body as he lifted her onto her horse, the flare of raw desire in those dark eyes. Her hand drifted to her lips, imagining his tall, muscular body pressed against hers, his lips, hot and demanding, pressed against her own. Arousal spiraled to her center, and she had to resist the urge to touch herself, to imagine Latharn—

  Stop it, Evelyn, she chastised herself. That wouldn't—couldn't—happen.

  She forced her thoughts
to less erotic ones. Despite Latharn’s assurances, she wanted to find out more information that could help him as soon as possible.

  She thought of the gossipy maid, Aimil, who'd told her about Latharn. She could befriend her and find out what else she knew about Padraig and Neacal. But Evelyn would have to be careful in how she framed her questions and to not arouse suspicion.

  She got her chance sooner than she thought, as Aimil poked her head into the kitchens the next morning to request a spare maid to assist her with cleaning the chambers; two other chambermaids had fallen ill.

  Evelyn immediately volunteered, and as soon as they were alone, Aimil launched into more of her customary gossip.

  “Do ye ken Eion? He works in the buttery. I heard that he’s taken one of the clan nobles’ daughter tae his bed,” Aimil said.

  “Aye?” Evelyn asked, feigning interest and intrigue.

  As Aimil went into detail about this alleged scandalous love affair, Evelyn waited for her chance.

  “Do ye think the laird would care if he found out?” Evelyn asked, when Aimil finally stopped to take a breath.

  “I donnae ken,” Aimil said with a shrug. “I imagine he doesnae care. He has more important matters tae tend.”

  “Aye, given that he’s so recently become laird,” Evelyn said, careful with her choice of words. “What—what do the other servants think of the new laird?”

  Aimil fell silent, and her open, friendly expression vanished. Evelyn silently cursed herself. Had she been too obvious?

  “Since I’m new tae the castle, I was just wondering if—" she hedged, trying to backtrack.

  “We are all grateful tae the laird for providing us with work, protection, and shelter, as we were grateful to the previous laird,” Aimil said stiffly. “Finish changing the bedclothes. I’m going tae take the linens down tae wash.”

  And just like that, Aimil scurried out of the chamber. Evelyn bit her lip, a stab of regret piercing her. She should have warmed Aimil up more and been more careful in wording her inquiry.

  But something else disturbed her. Aimil hadn’t just looked uneasy—she'd looked fearful. How would she ever learn anything useful if the servants were too fearful to share anything with her? If she could only spy for Latharn by catching snippets of useful conversation in the great hall, she didn’t know how much of a help she would be.

  “Are ye all right?” Tulach asked, when they were alone a few hours later, hauling a sack of barley flour from the kitchens out to a waiting cart. Aimil had insisted she needed no more help in the chambers, but Evelyn knew better. She’d made a mistake in asking about Padraig.

  “I’m not making as much progress as I’d like,” she confessed.

  “Ye’ve only just started,” Tulach reassured her. “Donnae put so much pressure on yerself, lass.”

  She gave Tulach a grateful smile. She hadn't known him for long, but she already liked him. She’d asked him during one of their rides to see Latharn why he was spying for him. He’d only told her it was the right thing to do, but she suspected there was more to it than that. She nodded her agreement, and Tulach disappeared back into the castle.

  Evelyn waited until after nightfall to approach Aimil with an apology, when they were both in the servants’ quarters preparing for bed.

  “I’m sorry, Aimil,” she said in a low voice. “About what I asked earlier. I’m new here, and I just wanted tae ken—"

  “’Tis fine, Eibhlin,” Aimil said quickly. “Donnae speak any more of it.”

  There was a warning—and fear—in the young woman’s eyes.

  Evelyn swallowed hard and nodded her agreement. But she knew there was something more to Aimil's words; she just needed to find out what it was.

  * * *

  “Ye realize ye may have exposed yerself?” Gormal growled. “That Aimil may mention yer words to others?”

  It was the next afternoon, and she had come to see Latharn to inform him about what happened with Aimil. At Gormal’s words, Evelyn pulled herself to her full height, meeting his gaze.

  “I apologized tae her,” Evelyn said. “I told her it was because I’m new—”

  “Even more reason tae be suspicious of ye,” Gormal snapped. He turned to Latharn. “I told ye it was a foolish having her spy for ye.”

  Latharn didn’t acknowledge Gormal’s words. His focus was entirely on her, but to her relief he didn’t look angry. He looked thoughtful.

  “Eibhlin may have helped us,” Latharn said slowly.

  “How?” she and Gormal asked at the same time.

  “I think Aimil kens something. Ye said she seemed more than just fearful—that she warned ye away. And ye say this lass likes tae gossip, aye?” he asked.

  “Aye."

  “Then keep talking tae her. Befriend her.”

  “My laird,” Gormal said. “’Tis not a—"

  “But donnae mention anything about the laird again,” Latharn continued, ignoring Gormal. “Engage with her. I think she may open up on her own.”

  “And how can ye be certain of that?” Gormal demanded.

  Latharn stiffened, finally turning his attention to Gormal. Evelyn could detect an undercurrent of tension between the two men.

  “I cannae,” Latharn returned. “But I have faith in Eibhlin."

  A sense of renewed determination swelled within Evelyn at Latharn’s trust.

  “I’ll do what ye suggest,” she said.

  Latharn smiled at her; it took great effort to not allow a girlish blush to stain her cheeks.

  “I’m going tae take my meal outside—’tis rare for us tae have such sun this time of year,” he said, gesturing to the sunny day outside. “Would ye like tae join me?”

  Gormal’s face tightened at this invitation, but Evelyn only saw Latharn and his inviting smile. She agreed, trying not to sound too eager, and they made their way out to the back of the home, where Latharn spread out his cloak for them to sit upon.

  Aoife brought them a meal of bread, a savory fish stew and ale. Though the day was brisk, Evelyn only felt warmth as she sat at Latharn’s side. She looked around, taking in the vast beauty of the Highlands stretching around them in all its majesty.

  “’Tis beautiful here,” Evelyn said, taking a bite of her bread, her gaze lingering on the snowcapped mountains in the distance. “I remember feeling overwhelmed by 'tis beauty when I first came here. My mother told me how beautiful it is here, but there’s nothing like seeing the Highlands with yer own eyes.”

  “Aye,” Latharn agreed, looking around at the lush scenery. “Though I confess I ken no different; I’ve spent my life in the Highlands. But I do remember being struck by its beauty when I was a bairn. In those days, my family and I would often share meals like this in between chores,” Latharn said, gesturing down at their meal. “We’d eat outside as Father told us tales.”

  Latharn’s face lit up at the memory. Evelyn lowered her bread, hungry for more information about him.

  “How many siblings do ye have?”

  “Four,” Latharn replied. “I’m the eldest. My parents had more of their own after taking me in.”

  “Do they ken what ye’re doing? Who ye are and that ye’re taking back yer title?”

  “My brother Crisdean does. He’s only two years younger than me and we’re the closest, but I told him not tae tell the others—they’d only worry or try tae help. They’re off living their own lives with families of their own. I donnae want them tae concern themselves with my plight. ’Tis dangerous.”

  He stared off into the distance, his smile fading and his face shadowing. For the first time, she saw the tremendous strain he must be under; it was plain on his face.

  “I ken ’tis not my place tae say,” Evelyn said. “But . . . perhaps ’tis not a bad thing tae have yer family with ye . . . tae not have tae take on such a great burden alone.”

  She braced herself for his ire, for him to tell her to mind her own business, but he just expelled a sigh.

  “Ye may be right,” he s
aid. “But I donnae want tae make them a target of Padraig or Neacal. Ye have no siblings, aye?”

  “No. My mother never remarried,” Evelyn replied, her heart clenching at the memory of her mother's ever-present sadness. “But I understand the urge tae want tae protect them.”

  Without thinking, she reached out to place a comforting hand over his, and instantly regretted the action, because a firestorm of desire arose within her core. Latharn stilled, his dark eyes clashing with hers.

  A heartbeat of silence passed between them. Then another. And then Latharn’s mouth was claiming hers; his lips firm and demanding, his tongue exploring her mouth.

  Evelyn’s heartbeat thundered in her chest, and her senses were aflame as Latharn’s hands went around her waist, pressing her closer as he continued to kiss her breath away.

  Evelyn had traveled through time. She’d been kissed. She’d even had awkward, mediocre sex. But this kiss—this kiss—put every single one of those experiences to shame.

  The kiss only lasted for seconds, but it seemed to stretch for several glorious ages. She allowed herself to give in to the need that had spiraled within her ever since she first laid eyes on him. She clung to him as they kissed, suddenly and irrationally never wanting to let him go. She luxuriated in the feel of his muscular body against hers and the firm demand of his mouth. He let out a low, sexy groan against her mouth before he released her.

  Evelyn struggled to catch her breath, her eyes wide as they met his. His own dark eyes were smoky with desire as he reached out to take off her coif. Her hair spilled out, falling loosely around her shoulders, and Latharn let out another husky groan that ignited a fire within her belly as he wrapped her hair around his fingers, tugging her face toward his for yet another kiss.

  "My laird," Horas said from behind them.

  Latharn released her hair and stood. Embarrassment flooded Evelyn as she also stood, readjusting her hair beneath her coif.

  If Horas noticed that Latharn was about to kiss her, he gave no indication; his expression remained stoic.