by Madelyn Hill
They stared at each other; Aidan ignored the murmuring of the crowd and the crack of the wind against the banners and flags. Instinct steadied taut nerves and directed his actions. Cormag shifted his gaze and shuffled a foot. Aye, the lad was green, but Aidan wouldn’t hold it against him. Knowing he’d win the bout regardless, he held back while Cormag regained his composure.
The lad nodded, one with appreciation and gratitude, then Aidan tossed his heavy sword from hand to hand. The hilt warmed to his touch and they became one. Again instinct gave instruction and Aidan paced toward Cormag as the boy swiped his weapon through the air as if he were batting at flies.
Feeling merciful this early in the day, Aidan backed him in the corner. They parried for a few strokes, Aidan’s sword meeting with the lad’s skin just below his jaw. Fear widened Cormag’s eyes and sweat glistened like raindrops along his brow.
Aidan stepped back and cursed the crowd for muttering displeasure. He cast a glance to the left.
Hope stood, arms crossed over her lovely chest and a grim frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. Did she disagree with his tactics? Och, why must he allow his attention to drift in her direction when a man with a sword stood three feet from him?
Cormag came toward him with a scowl plastered on his face and sword drawn. Aidan deflected the blow and knocked the weapon from his opponent.
The crowd roared as Cormag bowed to Aidan and shook his hand.
“You’ll do best to see to your face.”
With a shrug, Cormag said, “Could’ve been worse and I thank you for that.”
Aidan laid a firm hand on the lad’s shoulder. “Practice and don’t let your opponent see your plans. You shifted your gaze then moved your feet. Told me of your intentions.”
A ruddy hue covered Cormag’s face and neck as he ducked out of the ring and made way through the break in the crowd.
“Ye beat him, MacKerry, but what of yer next bout?”
Wiping his hand across his sweaty brow, Aidan set his fist at his waist and cocked a brow at Duncan. “I’d do well against the lot of you.”
“Bollocks.”
With a cocky stride, Aidan refrained from responding further and headed toward his next match. While his mind wandered to Hope, he held strong.
In the shadows, Liam watched and waited. Aye, Aidan had done well not to inflict too much pain on the lad Cormag. He gave grudging respect to the mon, but that didna’ dampen the desire to have control. The control Liam had been wanting for seemed to be an eternity.
He covered his mouth to stifle a cough. His chest ached beyond what he ever imagined he could endure, truth be told. Even when he’d fought against Clan Mungo those many years ago and he’d received a blow to a shoulder and leg, the pain felt small, all part of his duty to the clan he loved.
It was that love that spurred him into action now. Summoning Aidan, the marriage, both would sufficiently direct his plans.
Aye, Liam thought as he rubbed his hands together, time wouldna’ be on his side, but with a wee bit of shoving in the right direction, people would do what he wanted. He was certain of it.
With a smile, he headed toward the tankards of ale. ‘Twould soothe his chest and still the tremor of his hands.
“MacKerry,” he called. “I’ve a word with you?”
Aidan snared him with a non-to-friendly glare. Liam remained determined and clasped his forearm. “Just a word.”
“Go ahead, auld man.” MacKerry leaned against a trestle table and crossed his arms before his chest.
“Ye did well by Cormag. Left him with a bit of pride.”
If Liam wasn’t mistaken, a hint of humor snuck into MacKerry’s grimace. His shoulders lowered and the pulse of his jaw ceased.
“No need to dishonor him because of his youth.”
“Aye, aye. Like I said, ye did well by him.” He reached past the lad and grabbed a tumbler of ale. After he offered it to MacKerry, he sized up the man once again.
The more Liam knew of this man, he felt comfortable with his choice. MacKerry was proving to be an honorable man. Although Liam regretted the secrecy of his plans, ’twas necessary in order to protect himself and those close to him. In the end, Hope would understand and MacKerry along with her. Duncan would most likely spit on his grave.
A shout in the distance announced the next match.
“’Tisn’t mine.”
“I didna’ ken someone else fought before you and Duncan.”
MacKerry shrugged.
“Would ye care to take a look?”
With a cock of his brow, MacKerry nodded. Liam knew there was no trust between them. But in time . . . perhaps.
The crowd parted as Aidan approached. Liam held back when he noticed who was fighting. Content to let the events unfold without further interference.
Aidan couldn’t believe the scene before him.
Blood surged through his veins as he saw red.
There she stood with a sword in one hand and her injured arm tucked behind her back.
Was she mad?
Aidan attempted to remain back, but an innate urge forced him to advance as if a protective instinct laid a hand on his back and gave a hearty shove. “What the devil are you doing?” he bellowed.
Hope turned, her face flushed bright red and her chest heaving.
Aidan rushed forward, his drawn sword clanked against Hope’s opponents. Aidan turned his sword as it caught on the other man’s and whipped it to the ground. Fury, white-hot fury, flared through him and all he saw, all he knew, was to protect Hope at all costs. He rushed the man. Pinned him against the side of the barn.
As he squeezed, shouts and screams broke through his rage. Men attempted to pull him from his quarry. All to no avail.
“Cease!” Hope’s voice rose above the crowd’s and he looked over his shoulder at her. Fury clenched her face and she was a sight to behold with sparking eyes and a firm mouth. Even as she stood, feet wide apart and fist firmly set at her waist, he couldn’t take his eyes from her.
He released the man who immediately crumbled onto the hard earth.
Hope shoved through the crowd, a tempest swirled in her eyes. “I asked Bryce to fight me. ’Twas for show.” She helped the man rise. “You’re too bold, MacKerry.”
In truth, he felt his actions were warranted. He kept his gaze upon Hope and said, “My betrothed will not fight anymore this day. As I pledge.”
She gasped, sputtered, then clamped her mouth shut. Rage still flared in her eyes and she was never so lovely to him. A true Highland lass, to be sure. Yet, Aidan thanked the Lord for a moment of peace because he knew it would be short lived.
“I’ll fight if I please,” she said.
Ah, there it was. She was trying to best him in front of the clan. He presumed she did so to steady her position as laird. As a woman with power was want to do. And as it should vex him, Aidan felt something else as he suppressed a grin and the chuckle making its way up his chest. All he wanted to do was protect her and save her from harm. And he’d made a fool out of himself with his rash actions.
Aye, protect her, the instinct of a man who cared for his betrothed acted. He dragged his fingers through his hair. She’d done it. She’d made him care for her.
Bollocks.
He reached down and held out his hand to the lad Bryce. The man glanced at it, then accepted. Aidan helped him stand and slapped him on the back. The young man nodded as he rubbed his shoulder. ‘Twould most likely hurt him more on the morrow.
“Sorry, lad.”
Bryce held up his hands. “Not a worry, MacKerry. Next time I won’t make it so easy on you.” He grinned and slapped Aidan on the back.
He shifted his hip and rested his fist at his waist as he watched Hope lead Bryce away. She looked back at him a
nd cast a disgruntled look at him. Her arm twined with his and her head tucked low in conversation. Most likely apologizing her betrothed was a fool. Should he say something, Aidan wondered, then pulled back when he realized he was following her. Instead, he decided to lure the clan’s attention from Hope back to him. And push any thoughts of caring for her from his mind as he prepared to spar.
Strategy, he mused, a strong strategy to secure his position with the clan, and with Hope, make him worthy of her.
“Duncan,” he called, “’tis time, lad.”
A man behind him, Lachlan if he remembered the name correctly, stepped forward and began directing the crowd to the ring.
“This way, MacAlisters. This way.”
He then stood before Aidan, his dark hair and eyes settled upon him with deep inspection. “Ye’ll do, lad. But ye have to realize she’s been laird for many a year. Coddle her a wee bit and she’ll be lapping out o’ yer hand before ye ken.” The man winked then bellowed to his wife to fetch him some ale. Aye, ‘twould appear as if the man had coddled his wife into submission. And while Aidan longed for a peaceful existence, he was certain he didn’t want a meek wife. Aye, he knew he wanted a lass full of fire and gumption. One who had the strength and conviction to protect those she loved, one with rich, mahogany hair and eyes as green as a springtime loch. The thought stunned him for a moment, the discovery of caring for Hope so fresh and new. Just as quickly as the unbidden thoughts arrived, they were swept away with the presence of a hulking, flaming haired Scotsman.
“Bring yer best, MacKerry. Ye’ll need it.”
The direct challenge amused Aidan.
“Aye, ye smile fer now, but ye ken it won’t last for long.”
Aidan stretched his arms and flexed his wrist. He arched his sword before him, then pulled it up sharply.
Duncan mimicked his motions.
The men circled each other as if they were sworn enemies.
By Saint Elizabeth, these men would fight to their death. Hope bit her lip as she watched the fight with a reluctant spirit. If only she could hide in her chamber, but curiosity and the fact the clansmen kept one eye on the fight and one eye on her, stopped her from leaving out of fear.
Hope moved closer to the ring, a makeshift barrier of roping separated the spectators and the warriors.
The sun bore down on them. Hot and bright. Aidan parried easily with Duncan. Strong movements led him as he held off any of his opponent’s strikes. Sweat glistened on his face, arms, and chest. His arms bunched and bulged tightening the leather bands just above his elbows. Long, muscle-bulked legs carried him with grace and surety.
Hope half admired the man, just as she cursed her foolishness for even proposing the games. In fact, the event had lost any festive element. Instead, a serious tone hummed above the crowd and Hope witness many a man watching the fight with an intensity she’d never forget.
Just as worry filled her, so did pride. The man who’d been gentle with Cormag. The man who’d developed a kinship with the men and the burly Duncan. The man whose kisses left her wanting with such need, she could barely contain herself when she was near him.
Forcing her gaze back to Aidan, she held her breath as a high-arched blow nearly unsettled him. Duncan spoke to Aidan, so low, she wasn’t privy to what was said, but by the dark scowl on Aidan’s face, she kenned ’twasn’t a complement.
Aidan had fought twice this day and Hope worried his strength had ebbed. But he continued, minute after minute, challenge after challenge. Pride flared within her. ’Twas her betrothed in the ring, she thought with a smile.
And he was achieving what she’d proposed. No matter what was thrown at him, he came back, resilient, focused.
He struck Duncan with a thunderous blow, forcing the equally strong man to his knees. Aidan swung his sword in a circle and brought the point to Duncan’s neck. He held, just as the clan held their breath and sweat ran down Hope’s back.
Aidan gripped the collar of Duncan’s shirt, his sword still prone. With a grunt, he shoved Duncan to the ground. A whoop of congratulations rose in the air. Some clansmen slapped their friend on the back, others shook hands. And a few exchanged a bit of coin, as they had gambled on the fight.
He’d given mercy were she was certain he wouldn’t. Nay, she kenned he would. Releasing her breath, she waited until the clan quieted and then walked into the ring.
Aidan stood as proud as the Highlands themselves. Drenched in sweat and with a broad grin upon his mouth. He watched her with those stormy eyes of his as she came forward. Hope halted, then proceeded when he crooked a finger at her.
When she reached his side, he encircled her with an arm. Pulling her hard against his firm body, his gaze never shifted from hers despite the shouts of encouragement.
“Did I meet your expectations, lass? Am I worthy of you?”
Before she could answer, his mouth claimed hers. Hot and fierce, he plundered her lips. He smelled of male, sweat and leather, and tasted of apple tart. Her stomach stirred and fire blossomed deep within her. She heard the clank of his sword hit against the hard earth and pebbles as his feet shifted and his other arm wrapped around her. Hope felt each and every part of him. His strong chest against her breasts, the rigid shaft between his legs nestled at the apex of her thighs. She felt delicious, wanton. Each nerve in her body quivered as his lips trailed along her jaw.
“Did I, lass?” he whispered huskily, then groaned as she pressed harder against him.
“Aye,” she managed before he sought her mouth once again.
Heady sensations raged through her and she knew not where she was and didn’t care. He had claimed her. Branded her as his and no one else’s. Despite her reluctance to marry and even stauncher reluctance to be claimed by a man, Hope didn’t want the feelings Aidan wrought in her to end. Ever.
He pulled from her, his gaze locked on hers. “We’ve an audience.”
She laughed as heat raced to her face. Hope looked over her shoulder and cringed when she saw men staring at them with bemused grins plastered on their faces. “Och, I’m a fool.”
“Nay, you’re pleased I’m still in one piece.”
Hope tipped up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.
Aidan grinned. “’Twas too tame for a lass of your spirit. I’ll be expecting more later.”
Anticipation excited her and she nodded. When he released her, she nearly sunk back into his embrace, the absent heat of his body left her cold. She couldn’t quite discern when her heart had capitulated and began yearning for Aidan’s attention, but ’twas troubling to say the least. She’d have to tread lightly if she were to retain her position and allow the man some freedom with his kisses.
For she’d found that she liked the feel of his lips against hers and the sensations wrought from such an embrace.
Chapter 16
Hope sighed as she lifted a heaping tray of bannock buns onto the table. The festivities had lasted three entire days and she was tired, sore, and more than ready for them to end.
Just as she was ready for them to end, a thought brought her upright. When the games ended, then she’d have to announce her intentions in regards to Aidan. The games were for him to prove his worth, after all. And he’d certainly done that and more.
A dance was scheduled and more than likely the council would want her to make a formal announcement as to MacKerry’s suitability. In fact, Liam had relayed a message that she was to meet the council within the hour.
Hope neatened the table and collected empty trays. With a moment’s hesitation, she rearranged the remaining platters and sent for more ale to fill the pitchers. She glanced about the bailey and wondered where many of the help were, but then surmised they were resting up for the dancing to come. She’d have to bring the rest of the food out and set the table properly in order for the job to get
done. Aye, and didn’t she have to do things herself in order to do them right?
A familiar scent wafted by her nose, teasing her senses and drawing a smile from her.
“Should you be doing all the work?” Aidan asked as he leaned close to her ear and pressed against her back. “Care to take a walk?”
She inhaled and closed her eyes, then quickly pulled away from the enticement of his touch. “Can’t you see there’s work to be done?”
“Coward,” he whispered with amusement as he turned and sauntered away. “If you care to join me, I’ll be by the river.”
Care to join him? She wanted to do nothing else, but knew Liam would search her out if she were but a minute late for the meeting. And she feared if she met Aidan by the river, ‘twould urge more than a kiss.
Regardless of work to be done, she watched him walk through the bailey and out the palisade. His long strides carried him with a grace belying his brawn. She wasn’t the only person watching him, Hope discovered with a glance about the bailey.
Hope felt like a fool. She wasn’t the type to swoon over a man. Nay, she was the kind of woman who led when no other would and who would lay down her life to protect the clan.
She wasn’t the kind of woman to fall in love, or even be enamored, to be sure. That was for the other women of the keep, those who didn’t hold her overwhelming responsibilities.
And her responsibility for the clan outweighed any responsibility she had for herself or even her heart.
She set down a tray, suddenly feeling lonely and in need of a mother’s touch. To her dismay, she realized that she hadn’t a friend to confide her troubles. A symptom of being laird, she supposed.
