by Madelyn Hill
“Duncan will squash the man.”
“Nay, he’s gone soft.”
Aidan smiled and pointed his sword at the lad who just spoken. “Well, Duncan. Would you like to prove him wrong?”
Duncan pushed the lad to the side. “Aye.”
The crowd moved back, gave room for them to spar.
“Are ye ready, MacKerry?”
He grinned. “Aye.”
Duncan bellowed, then charged. Aidan tsked and merely stepped out of the way. Duncan ran past him, turned and growled.
“Och, he showed ye!”
“Yer like a rutting bull, Duncan,” a lad name Logan yelled.
The crowd laughed and Duncan glared at them. “Wheesht yer hood.”
Damn if the man didn’t charge him once again. Aidan feinted to the side and jutted his foot. The giant tripped, but quickly righted himself.
He pointed his sword at Aidan. “Yer a cheat.”
“Nay, Duncan,” Logan said. “’Twas fair.”
Duncan barreled toward the young lad. He gripped him from his shirt and lifted him up.
Bloody hell. Aidan strode to the man. “Let him go. Your fight is with me.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “M’laird would have me head if I hurt ye.” He released the lad and he crumpled to the ground. Other clansmen helped him to his feet.
“Och, Duncan,” the lad sputtered.
Duncan ruffled the Logan’s hair. “You’ll live.”
Then the man surprised him and rested his arm over Aidan’s shoulder. “How about a wee dram to quench our thirst.”
’Twas the last thing he expected to hear from the man. A man he’d wanted to throttle for hurting Hope. Mayhap their differences could be settled later-in the training ring.
“Aye.”
The man tipped back his head and laughed. “’Tis a grand answer, MacKerry. Ye may not be so bad.”
He’d let the man think such for now, but he’d quickly ken how adept Aidan was with a sword.
No matter how he tried, from sparring in the practice ring to downing too many drams of whiskey, his train of thought went back to Hope and the injury she’s sustained. After finishing drinking with Duncan and the other men, he left their company, deciding enough time had passed.
He silently opened the door and peeked in. Nora stood over Hope clucking her tongue.
“Enter, MacKerry before you wake the lass.”
Chastised, Aidan entered. He watched as Nora gently bathed Hope’s shoulder.
“Fever’s setting in,” she said grimly.
Bollocks. ’Twas always the fear with injuries and the cut had been deep. “Go,” he said to Nora. “I’ll watch her.” Why he volunteered for such a task was beyond him. But her vulnerability as she lay there pale and injured drew him. Mayhap, just mayhap she wasn’t the harridan he thought.
The auld maid peered at him with a mix of distrust and gratitude in her rheumy gaze. “Aye, I’m needed in the kitchen. Lady Honor will bring another tisane in a wee bit.”
The woman drooped with fatigue. “Rest is what you are needing. Can’t someone else oversee the kitchen?”
She chuckled and quickly glanced at Hope as she stirred. “The women of the keep want me to lead in the kitchen. Our laird expects much and lets her ire show when they fail.”
So Lady Hope was tough on everyone.
Aidan pulled a chair toward the bed. “Regardless, you need rest. Assign the role to someone else.”
Her brows drew up as a chuckle rasped past her lips. “Aye, acting like laird already, are you?” She handed him a bucket of cool water and a cloth. “Hope’ll have something to say about that when she awakes.” But she smiled, one that Aidan felt was full of mischief, as if she were looking forward to the inevitable clash between Aidan and the current laird.
“She most certainly will.” He nodded to Nora and sat as she left the chamber.
Nora had somehow managed to rid Hope of the dirty and bloodstained clothing and had replaced her clothing with a makeshift shirt that exposed her injured shoulder.
Aidan leaned forward to inspect the wound. It puckered around the stitches with angry red skin. Feverish, Nora had said.
He touched her brow with the back of his hand and swore at the heat. He dipped the cloth into the cool water and bathed her forehead, face, and neck. He repeated the gesture until she felt cooler to the touch.
It was going to be a battle, he thought, ridding her of the fever and keeping her abed until her wound healed. She was too strong for her own good and she needed an even stronger husband to make sure she kept her place.
A wry grin tipped his mouth. The strong husband would be him.
“Aye, laird,” Aidan said to the sleeping Hope, “I’ll be the one to lead. I’ll be the one to keep you in line.”
Surely, if she were awake, she’d blast him with her sharp tongue. But for now, Aidan thought, he’d have the last word.
She stirred and Aidan bathed her skin once again. A grimace crossed her face as she shifted in the bed. If she didn’t lie still, her stitches would tear.
“Shhh, lass,” he whispered. “You’ll be back to leading the men in no time.”
Aidan crooned a few more words until Hope settled down and seemed to rest peacefully. He watched her, still perplexed as to why a woman desired to be laird.
Talk about the keep told him more about her father’s decree. And how she’d led with honor and pride. ’Twas a fine keep, and she’d every right to be proud of her duty to the clan and her people.
She had strength, to be sure. Yet, he refused to allow any more admiration toward her to emerge, ‘twould sway him from his goal. But, she was lovely. Even in her current state, with her rich, auburn hair spread around her and her creamy skin that stretched over her slim column of a neck and her bare shoulder. Skin that begged a caress.
Aidan reached forward and trailed his finger along her jaw, down her neck to resting above her fluttering pulse. Soft, so soft. He shook his head and whipped back his hand.
Aye, a comely lass. But he’d learned one too many times that a comely lass was bent on making his life hell. Add her exulted position and desire to keep him from that position had him rethinking her beauty.
’Twas a shell she’d used to bewitch any who tried to thwart her efforts, he’d bet.
He stood to pace before the fireplace. He absently tossed in a log, a little peat, and stoked the flames. Leaning against the mantel, he glanced at the huge shield hanging above. A gash in the metal spoke volumes as to the intensity of the fight. And if the talk of the keep had the right of it, the shield was Hope’s father’s, the very one he held during his last battle. The battle resulting in his death.
And resulted in Hope leading the clan with the help of her mother. Curiosity had urged him to ask more questions, but none were forthcoming from the council or the few clan members who’d spoken to him.
The tie was his family. The tie was the council. And of course Hope and her mother.
“Mother,” Hope moaned from the bed.
Aidan turned toward her. He raced to her as she thrashed against the bed.
“Nay, lass,” he drawled. “You need to keep still.” He lifted her up and shifted beside her on the bed. “Be still, lass.”
She settled and curled into his side with a comfort that surprised him. Her heat seeped into him and he reached for the cloth without disturbing her.
Aidan held the cloth to her head as he tried to ignore the warmth of her body and her soft, womanly curves. It had been a while since he’d lain with a woman and his body was swift to react. Aidan gently moved Hope away from him.
“Nay,” she groaned and pulled at him with her good arm.
His cock hardened and he shifted uncomfortably, but
nothing he supposed compared to Hope’s discomfort with her wound.
Gritting his teeth, he continued to hold her until she fell into a deep slumber, her soft breaths upon his neck and the rise and fall of her breasts tempting him as they would any man. But he was better than that.
He cooled her brow a few more times until the steady rhythm of her breathing lulled him to sleep.
A knock at the door had him slipping from her hold.
“MacKerry,” Lady Honor said as she entered. “I’ve a tisane for Hope and I’ll be checking the wound.”
He moved from the bed and nodded for her to come forward. “She’s been restless.”
A wry smile pulled on the lass’s mouth. “She’s not used to be laying abed all day.” She frowned when she peered at the wound. “Bring me more water, please.”
He nodded, needing to do something, anything to keep his thoughts from the woman in the bed. She’d bewitch him if he gave the chance. Between her beauty and her dedication to the clan, his admiration may be his downfall.
He gathered more water and headed back to the Laird’s chamber.
Hope was still asleep and Lady Honor was washing the wound.
“How is she?” His gruff voice surprised him. She was his betrothed, but also a means to him becoming laird. He needed her. She needed him. Aye, ’twas why he was so concerned.
Worry furrowed the lady’s brow. “I’m hoping her fever will break soon.”
He set his hands at his waist. “And if it doesn’t?” Although he kenned the answer.
Tears swam in her eyes. “We have to pray that it does.” She gathered dirty rags and added something to Hope’s cup. “Make sure you force her to drink this on the hour.”
He nodded and glanced from Hope to Lady Honor. Sisters. A kinship he knew nothing about. Her worry made him fearful. Fearful of losing the lairdship, fearful for the strong woman lying in her sickbed.
“Call me if she worsens.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. A weariness filled him. He’d pledged to reclaim his right. And now, it seemed as if it didn’t matter.
All that mattered was Hope recovering. He wanted to see the flash of anger in her gaze, even if it was directed toward him. And when she set her fists at her waist and tipped up her chin in challenge, aye, it had vexed him, but it had also set his blood afire with desire.
She began to thrash. He quickly removed his liene and lay beside her. “Easy, Hope,” he crooned. He washed her brow and began telling her stories of his youth. None she’d remember, but it seemed to lull her into a deeper sleep.
He continued to whisper, share his fears and his goals. And as he spoke, his eyelids began to close.
The last thought on Aidan’s mind was how he liked the feel of her against him, her flesh against his, in their bed.
“Lass,” a voice crooned.
Hope stirred, loathed to wake and leave the warm cocoon of her dreams.
The shaking became more insistent. “Here’s yer chocolate. Yer sister has gone missing.”
She bolted awake only to be instantly reminded of her injury as pain ricocheted through her arm. After she steadied, she grabbed the tumbler of steaming chocolate. “When? Which one?”
Nora visually shuddered in relief. “Faith.”
Confusion fuddled her thoughts. “What day is it?”
“Ye’ve been abed five days.”
“Five days! How long has Faith been missing?” She vaguely remembered Nora forcing her to drink some brew or another. She glanced at the chocolate. “What am I drinking?” She had to find her sister and couldn’t be addle minded.
The maid avoided looking in her direction. “Tis only chocolate. Yer on the mend.”
“Nora,” Hope said in a warning tone.
With a protesting swish of her hips and a stern glare, Nora reassured Hope. “Aye, lass, ’tis chocolate.”
“How long has Faith been gone?”
Nora’s gaze slid to the floor. “Three days, m’laird.”
Dear God. If she was going to gone that many days for a hunt, Faith always took other men with her. Something had to be wrong.
“What is being done about Faith?” She had to get out of bed and look for her sister. Faith loved slipping away from the keep to either hunt or just find some time to herself. But to be gone so many days, och, what if men from Clan Mungo took her or worse?
“The men started looking for her. I didn’t want to disturb you since Faith is wont to wander about.”
The woman was determined to drive her to distraction. She should have been told immediately. “’Tis my duty, Nora. You ken this, aye?”
Nora tossed up her hands. “Och, what isn’t your duty? You’ll work yourself to death you will.”
Hope set the cup aside and pushed the covers back, sucking in her breath at the cold air that the warm morning drink didn’t protect her from. One glance at the hearth confirmed the fire had smoldered into cool ashes.
Her maid followed her gaze. “’Tis sorry I am, lass,” the older woman said as she wrung her hands. “I’ll build it right up.”
She waved away Nora’s concern and steadied herself before she moved out of the bed. “I can tend my own fire.”
By Saint Amelia her body ached as if the entire clan had trampled her. Each movement strained her muscles and pulled at her joints, plus she felt as weak as a mewling kitten. In all her years training with the men, she’d suffered a numerous bruises, minor cuts, and sometimes a tarnished ego. But never such a debilitating injury.
And now the injury was interfering with her finding her sister.
“Tell MacKerry to look for the lass. Yer too soon on the mend.”
Hope glanced at the older woman with a grimace of ire. Ask MacKerry? “Nay. ’Tis my duty.”
Nora rolled her eyes heavenward and scoffed. “Lady Honor should have given ye more tisane.”
“I’ll be giving all my food to MacKerry then.” She held out her hand for Nora to pass her a cloth.
She wobbled as Nora aided her by quickly cleaning her wound and in slipping on clean clothing. With each task, the aches and pains began to lessen. Yet, her thoughts circled around the stormy circumstance of her life and tension coiled her neck. She’d herself to blame, she should have been firmer with Faith. And MacKerry? Why did she approach MacKerry? Why not allow the council to select a new laird? Then she’d be done with the worry.
“Remember, lasses. Through Hope, Faith, and Honor, ye can rule.”
She sighed. Her promise was why.
“’Tis madness, lass,” Nora argued. “Ye need to rest.” Nora kept tutting as she busied herself with picking up the discarded clothing.
Hope ignored her as the thoughts pestered her mind. Deep down she knew she could never forsake a vow made to her father, even one made at the age of ten and two. ’Twas a great privileged her father bestowed on her. And in the throes of war she kenned there was no one he could trust save his wife and daughters. Och, many people didn’t understand, but she didn’t have the time or patience to explain. It was a need within her. It drove her to inexplicably feel responsible for every clansmen from a wee bairn to the eldest.
Now she had to make her presence known and lead the search for Faith. She wouldn’t allow the council or the clan to think she was weak and one wee cut would keep her confined to bed.
“Lass?”
Hope blinked and looked to Nora. She patted the maid’s arm and led the way out of the chamber. As they slowly descended the stairs, a crowd greeted her, asking of her injury and expressing concern of her sister’s whereabouts. Aye, they were a good clan, caring and willing to lend a hand when there was need, and loyal to her father, mother, and now her. Except the council, blast their hides.
Bannock buns, porridge, and rashers of bacon floo
ded the tables in the main hall. Her stomach rumbled knowing Nora and Honor had nursed her back to health with broth and mayhap some soaked bread. Yet, she’d have nothing to break her fast this morning. Luckily, she’d sipped a bit of the chocolate before leaving her chamber.
“They’ve begun searching the outer bailey and even past the palisade.”
“Grand.” Hope turned at the smooth tenor of MacKerry’s voice and took in his handsome face. He looked rested, blast him, and clean in his tartan and white liene. ’Twas amazing how a bath transformed a man. She watched him take a slow drink of his ale. He wiped the foam from his lip with the back of his hand as his eyes sparkled with mischief. Why was he so happy on such a dire occasion?
She cocked a brow at him. “And why aren’t you helping them?”
“Ah, weel, I came back when a lad said you had awaken.” He smiled. Dimples pierced his chiseled face. It was something short of heaven and just endearing enough for her to grant him the pleasure of her company. Damn him.
His brow quirked upward. “’Twouldn’t be seemly if I was to leave without my betrothed, when she has finally left her sick bed.”
Summoning a look of displeasure on her face, Hope nodded. “Or your laird. We need to make haste. Faith is bent on adventure and mishap always accompanying it.”
He nodded. “Since there was no sight of her yesterday, I kenned we needed your help.”
“Aye, I usually know where she’s hiding.”
MacKerry chuckled. She frowned as she tried to block the soothing sound from her thoughts. This man was befuddling her in the most aggravating way. If she didn’t guard herself, she’d be lured in by his charm and strong, good looks.
“From what I could gather from the clansmen, she does this often. Mayhap, she is hiding in the caves.”
Hope’s gaze snapped up at him. “How do you ken the caves?”
“Just what the clansmen told me. Come, let’s find your sister. The sooner we look, the sooner she is safely in the keep.”
