by Carmen Caine
He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He could not stay there one moment longer. She clouded his mind with desire, but it was not a simple desire of the flesh. To be sure, he wanted to tear her kirtle and reveal her proud breasts and slim curves, the memory of which were seared into his mind, but more than that, he wanted to protect her. In her own mind, she was fierce, and she certainly was valiant, but he saw her innocence, her small stature, and fear. Whether she knew it or not, she needed saving. Now he just had to figure out how to surmount the many obstacles standing between Shoney and Gribun.
“I have to go.” His gaze met confused eyes.
“I could go with you, Ronan,” she said, her voice filled with hope.
“Now is not the time, Shoney.”
“The way you so readily offered to take me to the village led me to believe it was a simple matter. Can you not use your sway as laird?”
“Need I remind you I am not yet laird, and regardless, introducing you is no simple matter. We must be careful and patient and wait for the right moment.”
She cast her eyes away to stare at the heavens not trying to hide her disappointment, but there was naught he could do at that moment. He had yet to conceive of how he would bring Shoney into the clan, but he would find a way.
“I promise you, Shoney, you will stand in the village and be welcomed when the time is right.” He cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Besides, I think mayhap your current attire is less than appropriate,” he said as his eyes once again traveled the length of her slim legs to her lean torso and to the gentle slope of her breasts, all of which were barely
concealed by her thin kirtle.
“I see your point,” she blushed.
As he waved goodbye and began his cautious walk home, he contemplated how he was going to bring Shoney—his pagan princess, named for a false god—to Gribun. By the time he made it home unseen, he was certain of one thing only. Shoney would never be welcomed by his clan.
Chapter 10
“Where have you been?” Nathair hissed as Ronan took his seat in the great hall. He could feel the penetrating stare of the other council members.
It was a question Ronan was accustomed to hearing as of late. For the past few weeks he had slipped away every chance he could to visit Shoney, and with each passing day demand on both fronts grew. Nathair’s palpable impatience made it nigh impossible to thwart his questions, and Shoney’s disillusionment intensified every time he told her today would not be the day he took her to Gribun. There was a solution that would appease his father and permit Shoney to enter the village; he just needed a little more time to discover it.
“What have you to report?” Nathair asked, addressing the room.
Argyle stood. “The tacksmen have given me a full account, and it would seem the cottars have completed the plant.”
“Thank you, Argyle,” Nathair said. Then he turned and addressed the elder sitting to Ronan’s left. He was a large fellow, bent with years, with a long flowing beard and sharp, clever eyes.
“Alasdair, what of the rents?”
“They will not have to be raised to ready the clan for war. There is enough in the coffer to buy what is needed, and our stores are strong.”
Nathair nodded. “Good,” he said. “There are no disputes to settle, nor is there any news from the king.” He stood, signaling an end to the meeting.
Ronan rose to leave, but a strong hand came to rest on his forearm.
“’Tis interesting what Argyle said about the plant, because the keep’s rows have yet to be ploughed. I believe I asked you to oversee this task, Ronan.”
“Aye, Father,” Ronan said, “it will be done on the morrow.”
“That I do not doubt, but, Ronan, you’ve been distracted as of late. Is there some matter of which I am unaware?”
“Nay, Father.”
Nathair stared unspeaking into Ronan’s eyes for several moments. “Be sure there isn’t,” he said as he turned on his heel and left the keep.
***
With both fists gripping the reins, Ronan walked backward through the field near the keep, managing the six cattle whose bulk and muscle moved the unwieldy plough through the earth. The ploughman, a cottar named Colin whom Ronan’s father showed particular favor owing to his shrewd mind and boundless energy, steered the plough from the side. Meanwhile, Colin’s lanky son, Ewan, encouraged the animals’ progress with a light switch.
“Ronan,” Colin called, “when your father asked you to oversee the plough, I don’t think he meant you should take it up yourself. My son, Errol, will guide the cattle.”
“One clan, one back,” Ronan gritted as he strained to keep the beasts in check. “The honor found on this field is no different than the honor found on the battlefield.”
What Colin did not know was that Ronan welcomed the distraction and the strain of the plough. His mind battled with his growing depth of feeling for Shoney and his loyalty to family and clan, and all the while, he strained to find a solution to honor both. Labor alone seemed to keep his thoughts in check. For the first time in his life he felt helpless, powerless. He was falling in love with Shoney.
Hell, there was no point denying it—he fell long ago.
Although he did not know it then, from the first moment he saw her practiced hand take aim at his stag, he gave himself to her, body and soul, but she was the last woman under heaven his father or the clan would accept as his wife. Better she be a MacLean or even an English woman, because then at least she would be a Christian. A pagan who walked the land as the Witch of Dervaig would never be accepted or trusted. They would argue she had bewitched him.
And perhaps she had.
“No,” he shook his head, ashamed for doubting once again.
He pictured her clear gray eyes and quick laughter. Her candor, unmatched by any maid he had ever known, and her warrior’s spirit combined to create a woman worthy of admiration, yet she was destined to be loathed.
He hoped to find the answers he sought in toil, but when the final row of earth was turned, he released the plough without resolve. Bringing Shoney to Gribun was still unthinkable. He wiped the sweat from his brow. Without the strain of the plough his anger grew unchecked. Fury filled his body, infusing his bones and organs until he felt comprised of rage.
A pagan outcast and the chieftain’s son, it was impossible, and the undeniable truth left the taste of bile in his mouth.
He growled as his hands tightened into iron fists.
“A word, Ronan?”
He inhaled, trying to restrain the sickening frenzy swelling outwards from the pit of his stomach. He turned to find Aidan standing behind him. His unbearable rage craved a target. He longed to pummel Aidan to the ground. Without release he would burst like a fiery lightning bolt and then dissipate into thin air. But instead of clobbering an innocent friend, he pushed past Aidan without reply. Perhaps the icy spring would cool his ire.
Aidan thankfully had the sense not to follow. Soft green earth and hard stone passed under his feet as he hastened to the spring. The stream of water, which was fed from higher sources reaching as far south as Benmore Mountain, rushed over some rocks and fed a narrow but deep pool and then continued down eventually thinning out and trickling into the ocean.
As he approached the pool, he unbuckled his belt and let his plaid drop to the ground. Then he dove into the frigid depths. Icy fingers smothered the fire that threatened to burn him alive. Calm enveloped him as the chill banished all thoughts from his mind. Numb from head to toe, he floated on the surface and stared into the blue heaven above.
“You appear to have put away your fangs.”
Ronan sighed and without looking over to where he knew his friend stood, he said, “What do you want, Aidan?”
“Many things actually, but right now there are two which are more pressing than the others.”
Ronan shrugged to the blue sky, refusing to let go of his newfound peace. He may as well let Aidan ramble; the water w
ould muffle his complaints.
“The first is you, actually. You, Ronan, are my problem.”
“How do you figure that?” Ronan sighed.
“You are hiding something. Do not bother lying. ‘Tis plain you are.”
Was a moment’s peace too much to ask for? Ronan lifted his head and growled, “Aidan, my life is my own, and if you value yours at all, you will move on to whatever else plagues you.”
For a moment, it looked as though Aidan was going to press him further, but either the threat or the futility made him stop.
“Anna has refused to let me touch her until I agree to wed the girl. Can you imagine me vowing to love only one woman?”
Ronan rested his head back into the water and continued to float. “God forbid you make an honest woman of one of your many conquests,” he said, but Aidan missed his sarcasm.
“Exactly, I knew you would see it my way. Don’t get me wrong, Ronan. I would marry Anna if I could. She is a fine lass, but I am cursed with this face, which makes me irresistible to the fairer sex. What I would give some days to be someone else.”
“You are pathetic, Aidan,” Ronan said as he waved his hand to signal an end to their conversation, but then he hesitated.
“Hold, Aidan. What did you say?”
“I said—what I would give to be someone else.”
“That’s it,” Ronan exclaimed as he hastened from the pool.
“What is it?” Aidan asked.
He ignored the bewildered expression on his friend’s face as he belted his plaid in place. “Many thanks, Aidan. You helped me solve a rather difficult problem.”
“I do what I can, friend,” Aidan chuckled, but as Ronan started to walk away, Aidan grabbed a hold of his arm.
“I helped you with a problem, which now obligates you to share with me its nature,” he said.
“Aidan.”
“Aye, Ronan.”
“I would sooner recommend your character to my sister,” he said as he walked away.
“You do not have a sister, and if you did, she would be well acquainted with my character. Ronan,” Aidan called after him, “I am a patient man and persistent as you well know. You will tell me.”
***
Ronan could not stop smiling as he passed through the village. It was such an obvious solution and so simple; he could not believe he did not think of it straightaway. For once, Aidan’s ramblings proved not to be a complete waste of time. He saw the keep up ahead, and it was all he could do not to break into a run. He did not want to draw attention to himself. He just needed to gather a few effects before he stole away toward the western cliffs where Shoney would be waiting for him.
At long last, he had a plan that would allow her a safe welcome in Gribun. He paused upon entering the courtyard when an image of her glaring at him with willful defiance came unbidden to his mind. He stopped in his tracks and exhaled slowly.
Now all he had to do was convince the most stubborn woman in all of Scotland to see things his way.
Chapter 11
“Absolutely not,” shouted Shoney.
“I do not understand you. You speak of the misery of your isolation. You badger me for weeks about coming to Gribun. I present you with a perfectly sound plan for introducing you to the clan, and you reject it. If I didn’t know better, Shoney, then I would say that you were afraid,” Ronan challenged.
She released a frustrated screech. How dare he act as though she had no reason to be upset. His suggestion was offensive.
“Shoney, no one knows who you are. ‘Tis as though you do not exist. It would be so easy for you to enter into the village with a new name. Many in my clan have never even left Mull. We would claim you were a member of another clan from Skye or Arran.”
“And what would happen when they found out you lied, Ronan?”
“No one would find out,” he snapped.
“Perhaps, you are right. Perhaps you could deceive the people who love and trust you, but I will not. My name is Shoney, daughter of Brethia. I will not betray my mother’s rest by surrendering my name.”
“But you must, Shoney,” Ronan said as he grabbed her arms. “There is no other way.”
“Then you should not have vowed to bring me to the village in the first place,” she replied. “My mother was right. Men make vows they cannot keep.”
“Do not try to make a liar of me. I have broken no vow. I said you would be welcomed into the clan. I made no promises regarding how this could be done.”
He turned on his heel and ducking his head under the doorway he stepped outside, evidently needing to cool off. She had only known Ronan for a season, but one facet of his personality which she had become fully acquainted with in that time was his temper. Not that she was any better, but how could she remain calm under the circumstances? He asked her to give up her life, everything she had ever known, her beliefs. It was too great a price and for what?
What did he intend to gain by bringing her into the village? Why would he go to such lengths? Could it be he pitied her? Her isolation was indeed wretched as was her need to disguise herself as a hideous crone, limping across the moors, scaring children and grown men along the way, but that was her business.
“How dare he pity me.” She swore as she stomped outside to tell him just that.
“You have no right coming here and telling me how I should live my life.” She stood as straight as she could, craning her neck back to meet his gaze and jabbing him in the chest repeatedly to emphasize each word.
“I do not want your pity,” she shouted as she turned on her heel, but she did not get very far before he grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him.
“Pity? Why would I pity you? You move about the world with no responsibility, no one to answer to. You have absolute freedom to go anywhere and be anything,” he yelled.
“Except myself,” she returned.
“God’s blood, Shoney, I cannot change this world to suit you. I would if I could, but I cannot.” His eyes flashed with anger. If she didn’t know better she might have been afraid of the glint visible beneath his heavy brow, but she was not afraid of him, not anymore.
“Those are fancy words, Ronan,” she spat. “So you would change the world for me. Why is that? Showing Christian charity to the friendless outcast? I need no one’s pity.”
“Damn you, Shoney, why do you challenge me still? I am only trying to give you what you want,” he yelled.
“Why?” she raged. “Why do you care where I live? Why would you go to such great lengths, deceiving your family, for me?”
“Because, it is my choice, my will,” he yelled.
“Why?” She shouted again.
“Because you are my choice,” he growled as he closed the short distance separating them. He grabbed a hold of her waist and swung her into his arms as his lips closed over hers.
His mouth was hungry and insistent. She could not breathe. She felt as though she was suffocating beneath the crushing pressure of his lips. His fingers dug into her flesh causing her to wince with pain. She pushed against his chest as she struggled to break free, but he was massive and unyielding.
Then almost as suddenly as the kiss began he thrust her back on the ground. She could not speak or move. Shock rendered her mind useless, but then he spoke, and his words sent a chill down her spine.
“Run, Shoney,” he growled. “Go back inside now before I take what has not been offered.”
She turned and fled, slamming the door behind her. Still trying to catch her breath, she pulled back the stag hide to peer out the window. He stood unmoving, staring at her door. Even through the stones, she could feel the animal energy emanating from his body. He raised his hand once as if to knock, but it dropped to his side as he backed away.
She was afraid of what would happen if he stayed, but she could not bear to watch him go. His last words echoed over and over again in her mind.
Because you are my choice.
A flash of lightening lit the darkening s
ky and illuminated the shifting storm clouds that unleashed their showers as if by the lightening’s command. She watched as he stood unflinching in the rain, staring at her hut from a distance.
Because you are my choice.
Her feet moved of their own accord one in front of the other toward the door. All else but Ronan was forgotten. She thought of nothing but him since they first met, and she had long given up the struggle to pretend she did not desire his touch. His lips and hands awakened a yearning, which intensified every time he was near. She stood in front of the door. Her hand grazed her lips swollen and sore from the force of his kiss. For a moment, fear gripped her mind, but she watched her hand pull back the door as though it belonged to someone else. Her body was in control, and her mind was powerless to stop what was already in motion.
He was her choice.
She stepped outside heedless of the rain and walked toward Ronan. Her eyes met his and did not waver. Her heart pounded in her chest.
“Why are you here?” he whispered.
She did not trust herself to reply. She refused to allow her fear to take hold. Instead, she did what she dreamed. She reached up and ran her hands along the wet, hard ridges of his chest and arms.
“Shoney, do you know what you are asking for?” he said hoarsely.
“Yes. No. Well, not entirely,” she smiled as she pressed her lips to a place below his chest.
She moved around him, dragging her fingers across his waist as she walked. Then her eyes were feasting on the broad expanse of his back. Both hands spread wide against his skin. Her lips pressed into him. Her tongue flicked out, licking at the rain drops as they traveled down from his shoulders. He swore and spun around to face her but kept his arms stiff at his sides.
“Shoney, if I touch you, I will not be able to stop.”
“That is one vow I insist you keep, because I want you to touch all of me.”
His groan filled her ears, quickening her heart, and filling her with wild excitement. He grabbed her, pulling her into his arms. His mouth descended on hers with the full force of his desire, which she hungrily returned with a demand all her own.
