Highland Hope (Wild Thistle Triology Book 1)

by Madelyn Hill

  “Hope,” Aidan ground out as release found him. He gave one more shaft-burying thrust before he collapsed, chest heaving and sweat dripping off his body.

  Aidan withdrew from her, then lay beside her as he pulled her close. He threaded his fingers through her hair, silent, but she could feel the smile and relaxed muscles.

  “Is it always so . . . so—”

  He leaned down and gently kissed her. “Nay. Only when . . .” She turned toward him as he hesitated.

  A strange expression filled his face as he frowned. He shook his head, then pulled her tighter against him. “Sleep.”

  She nodded, exhausted by the emotion and physical activity. Her limbs felt limber and tight at the same time. She stretched a little, then snuggled into the crook of his arm and fell promptly asleep against his shoulder.

  What had he done? Aidan eased Hope from atop his arm and slipped out of bed. He hastily donned his clothing and left the chamber. Once outside the room, he leaned against the hard wood of the door and released a breath.

  The evening replayed itself in a flash of skin, motion, and beauty. Aye, she was a beauty—elegant, long limbed, and with a bravado he’d admired—more so because she wielded it so deftly in every part of her being.

  But if he chose to be honest, and in most circumstances he was, Aidan knew ’twas perfect between them, for them both, because they’d both begun to care. Bollocks. How did he allow this to happen?

  It incensed him that when he’d tried to remain out of the grasp of a powerful woman, she was able to work her magic and change his mind as if she were a witch. Aye, she’d bewitched him. More so now due to their intimacy. It had been the same with Anne, although as he reflected on the matter, she hadn’t captivated him in the all-consuming manner Hope did. And she’d revealed her evilness quickly and harshly.

  His mind kept warning him to go—leave Wild Thistle. Yet, his heart and body told him to remain and be with the one woman who could either take all from him or give him salvation.

  Aidan paced down the corridor, ignoring the blatant glances of the women who cleaned the keep. Aye, he’d left the laird’s chamber at an early morning hour, but ’twasn’t as if he’d hung her bloodied sheet outside the window. They could speculate, but prove nothing.

  Without breaking his fast, he went to the training area, picked up a sword and beat the blazes out of the straw man. Time passed and he continued to train, spar with more of the training posts, and just spar with himself to rid his mind of what he’d just done.

  The sun rose, then shifted up into the sky and still he continued to push his body in an effort to forget.

  “Och, ’tis a mess ye’ve made, MacKerry.”

  Aidan wiped the sweat from his brow. “What do you want, Duncan?” he said as he searched for another straw practice form.

  The large man crossed his arms before his chest. “’Tis a rumor I’m wanting yer opinion on.” Duncan grabbed his arm. “’Tis it true?”

  Aidan ripped from Duncan’s grasp and scowled. “You dare vex me?”

  Duncan held up his hands. “Nay, I want the truth.”

  Aidan paused a moment as he dug the tip of the sword into the ground. “Tell me, what do you hear?”

  Hope’s cousin heaved a sigh. “Ye’ve compromised her.”

  He couldn’t deny what the man stated, but he also had no mind to admit to the deed either. ’Twas between Hope and him, not the entire clan—no matter what the redheaded Highlander thought.

  “She’s my betrothed. I’ll not have you spreading rumors.” Didn’t the man realize ’twas necessary? With Liam manipulating the council, he had to make his move. ’Twas risky, aye, but he’d risked much thus far and he had to continue in order to claim what was his. And, he admitted, their relationship, one which started as a means to an end, had shifted. He cared for her.

  Duncan stared at him, his gaze narrowed as he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

  “Did I make myself clear?”

  Duncan grabbed him by his shirt. “Ye didn’t answer me question, ye amadon.”

  “I’m not of a mind to.” Aidan removed the man’s hands from him. “Be sure to tell anyone who discusses Hope, they’ll answer to me.”

  Duncan spat on the ground, then left Aidan. He shook his head when other clansmen approached. They looked to Aidan, disappointed clearly etched upon their faces. Why did it matter so? He was there to claim his birthright. He wouldn’t allow them to heave guilt upon his shoulders. He no longer had the luxury of the emotion.

  In fact, Aidan didn’t have the luxury of wasting any more time. He must marry Hope and he kenned if the council learned of the passion they shared the night before, the wedding would be soon.

  She woke and stretched and eased her taut muscles. They felt as if she’d cleaned the keep for nigh one week straight. Hope couldn’t believe how satisfied she felt, how incredibly content.

  It had been quite some time since she greeted the day with a smile and not a load of worry upon her back. She rose from bed and quickly got dressed.

  Hope glanced about the chamber. Where was Aidan?

  A bit of her earlier contentment slipped away. Why did he leave?

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Aye,” she said as she opened it.

  William, the twin her sister loved to torture stood before her, head down. “Yer wanted in the council room,” he said in a quick rush before running down the corridor.

  She sighed. The council would have to wait until she bathed. She yelled after the lad for water to be brought to her chamber.

  “Nay, laird,” he yelled from afar. “They need ye now, ye ken.”

  She grabbed the laird brooch from the dresser and secured her tartan. The council wanted her now, ye ken. When she saw William again, he’d better be mucking the barn.

  Hope strode with purpose and was at the threshold of the council room within a few moments.

  There stood Aidan. She smiled as her stomach flipped about and her heart melted as she went over to him. Anger marred his features, forcing her to take a step back.

  “What has you vexed?”

  He shook his head.

  “Ah, lass,” Liam crooned. “I see yer fit to join us today.”

  “Watch yourself,” Aidan growled.

  Foreboding quaked her stomach. Hope grasped Aidan’s arm for strength. Something was not right. The council was too smug. Liam especially.

  “We’ve news of yer wedding.”

  She glanced at Aidan and watched as his jaw flexed, harden as if made of stone. Stephen cleared his throat and Liam threw him a quelling glare.

  “We’re to be wed on the morrow,” Aidan said without looking her way.

  Her knees nearly buckled, not by the news, but by the cold demeanor in which Aidan was treating her.

  “That is if ye still want to marry the man.” Liam picked at the sleeve of his shirt.

  She stepped forward and sweat trickled down her back. “What do you mean? I asked him to marry me.”

  Aidan pulled her behind him. “Auld man, you know not what you do.”

  He rasped a mirthless chuckle, wiped spittle away with the back of his hand. “Aye, lad, I ken.” Liam stood and walked over to her. “Meet Aidan MacKerry. He has arrived to claim his birthright.”

  “Birthright?” It hurt to breathe as Hope tried to understand what Liam said. She gripped her hands until it hurt. “What are you talking about?”

  Aidan turned her toward him and looked pleadingly into her eyes. “Don’t listen to them, Hope.”

  “But she has to, MacKerry. She needs to ken what type of man ye are.”

  Hope looked at Liam and folded her arms over her chest. Trying to be brave when she just wanted to run from the room. “State your peace.”<
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  “MacKerry’s mother caused much trouble when he was just a lad. He was a braw one, to be sure.”

  Aghast, she tried to think clearly. “You knew Aidan when he was young?” By Saint Fillan someone had better tell her the truth.

  “Aye, he lived in the keep. His father was cuckold and his mother did her best to ensure their family wasna welcome at Wild Thistle.”

  No. Oh, God, no. Blood rushed to her face as rage claimed her. “Lived here?”

  Aidan remained silent and she loathed him for it. He didn’t defend himself. He didn’t yell Liam was telling lie upon lie. Nay, he stood there, a study of a man carved of the mountain. Cold. Caged energy.

  What did this mean? Why did he return? “Tell me everything.”

  Liam chuckled and Stephen slammed his fist against the table.

  “I’ll tell her,” Aidan said. He still wouldn’t look at her.

  She looked at him, willing him to smile, pull her into his arms, and say everything was going to be okay. Tell her Liam was a fool. Her heart broke when he took a step back, putting an actual divide between them.

  “I am Aidan MacKerry only because my father begged the clan to let us take their name.”

  “Then who are you?” she rasped as her mind raced to think of who this man could be.

  He shifted his weight and set his hands at his waist. “I am Aidan Tavish.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. “From our Sept clan?” Hope moved to sit in her father’s chair. She needed the strength of the wood, the wisdom her father had imparted from the chair.

  He tried to grip her arm as she passed.

  She sat and pinned him with a glare. “Do not touch me.”

  “MacKerry, let us talk to the laird,” Connor said. The loyal man moved to stand by her.

  She held up her hand. “Nay. I want to hear it from him.” Her stomach roiled as she watched him with that stony expression on his face. ’Twas as if it were hard for him to speak the truth to her and she had no doubt it was because the man had tricked and lied to her.

  And then made love to her.

  She swallowed threatening tears and watched MacKerry. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crying before him.

  He visibly swallowed and continued. His shoulders pulled tight and he keep his eyes on Liam as if willing the man to hell. “My family was banished from Wild Thistle.”

  Banished? “Why?” How had she not heard about this?

  Liam tutted. “He’s getting to it, m’laird.”

  And she didn’t ken if she could handle any more, but knew she had to for the sake of her lairdship and the sake of her sanity. The truth must be spoken. Hope gripped the arms of the chair, dug her nails into the hard surface.

  MacKerry scrubbed his hand over his face and sighed. He leaned forward and set both hands onto the surface of the table, as if the weight of the information was too much for him to bear.

  Hope tried to breathe, inhale, exhale. Her world seemed to spin before her as she tried to understand what was happening. Aidan was a Tavish? His family was banished?

  “Tell her,” Connor said. His features darkened as he glared at MacKerry.

  He nodded and visibly swallowed. “My mother tried to . . . tried to seduce your father.”

  Hope stood, ran her fingers through her hair, and sat again. “Nay.”

  “’Tis the truth of it, m’laird,” Connor said with a grim face.

  Her poor mother. How such an action would have hurt the gentle woman beyond measure. All she remembered from her youth was the love her parents shared. How they seemed to never tire of each other. If such treachery happened she could only think her mother was devastated.

  “She didn’t succeed. Then she tried to seduce the other members of the council. Again she failed,” Aidan said. “And we were banished, and my father wasn’t allowed to be laird.”

  She looked to Connor and Liam. They nodded. She sunk back into the chair. Rubbed her brow as the men around the table remained silent as if letting her gain her breath and her feet beneath her.

  “Why did you come back?” she wondered aloud. Why did you kiss me, steal my virtue, and devastate my world?

  He pointed to the council and Hope knew ’twas part of their machinations that she was here, in the laird’s chamber feeling as if the life had been kicked out of her. The damn council and their need for power.

  Liam rose and pulled a piece of vellum from his sporran.

  He laid it on the table and she looked at it, not certain she wished to see what was written on its surface. Curiosity won and she grabbed the paper.

  If ye wish to lead Clan MacAlister, the time is now. Take heed and do not speak of this to anyone. I will seek you, when you arrive. The council awaits you, our rightful laird.

  “Who wrote this?”

  “The council, save Connor.” Aidan said. His voice grated her every last nerve. She wanted to slap him, rake her nails along his handsome face. She didn’t care about his mother or father. He’d lied to her. He’d played with her heart and now it was in shambles.

  The entire council had betrayed her, except Connor.

  “Leave,” she said to all. “Leave the chamber now.”

  Aidan stopped before her, his gaze pleading.

  “Nay,” she cried out when he tried to speak. “Leave.”

  All of the men left and she stood in the middle of the room without an idea of what to do, what to think.

  She’d been such a fool.

  Chapter 19

  Numb.

  Her mind was blank and her heart just another organ in her body. She milled around her father’s chamber, truly lost and confused. What had just transpired? She failed to find any logic to the situation.

  “Oh, Mother, why has this happened?” she cried out to the chamber. “Why?”

  Such a fool she was to allow a man inside her heart and body. Now, she was riddled with the pain of humiliation.

  Hope sat in her father’s chair. Longing to be in the comfort of his embrace and strength and wisdom. Yet, the worn wood failed to bring the comfort of his strong arms and raspy chuckle. What would her father do in this circumstance?

  He wouldn’t hide away, nay, he’d approach the bastard who smite him, challenge him if necessary, then be done with it.

  Ah, men had a way with these sorts of problems. They’d fight and be done with it, share an ale in the main hall and slap each other on the back. Och, what simpletons they were.

  She rubbed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the chair.

  He’d taken from her a most precious possession. Most dear indeed and now Hope had to live with the consequences of their actions no matter how it pained her.

  What should she do? Did she need to approach MacKerry? Rail against him like a harridan? Or should she be compliant?

  Nay, ’twasn’t the answer. She needed to be strong and show the clan she was still laird no matter what MacKerry and Liam had said.

  How strange he’d lived amongst them and no one had been the wiser. Strange how his parents had caused such scandal and it hadn’t been spoken of, at least in front of her.

  Something nudged at the back of her clouded mind. Nora, and her nervousness. And the fact Liam and the rest of the council had been so accepting of her marriage. It all rang false and she needed to determine who to trust.

  With a weary glance about the chamber and a deep sigh, Hope left the room and took the back passage to her own chamber.

  Once there, she changed her clothing and rang for water. She needed to think, but mostly, she needed to bathe the scent of MacKerry from her skin.

  With every breath, she smelled him. Masculine, musk, and lovemaking. If she wasn’t so out of sorts, she’d relish the scent. But the idea she’d gi
ven MacKerry her last vestige of innocence, smarted like an infected sliver embedded in her arse.

  A knock sounded at the door. “Enter.” She pointed toward the tub and the lads emptied their steaming buckets. “Go.”

  ’Twas just enough water to quickly bathe and then she’d have to venture toward the bailey.

  She shucked her clothing and eased into the hot water. Thoughts rushed through her mind. MacKerry, the murdered lad, Liam, and her parents.

  Och, her parents. They’d be so disappointed in her. Hadn’t her mother havered about pride in her womanhood and lairdship. In one fell swoop, she’d disrespected all she’d been taught.

  But if MacKerry had been part of the clan, her mother and father must have known him and his parents.

  If only her mother was here today, Hope would have never made such drastic mistakes.

  The water cooled and Hope quickly finished her bath.

  She hastily dried off and dressed, complete in her formal tartan, sword, and laird brooch. Regaining a bit of confidence, she left her chamber and headed outside.

  A hush greeted her as she left the main hall and entered the bailey. Women cast their gaze to the ground.

  Ignoring them, she moved closer to the training area and watched as some men worked through their paces.

  Aye, they were fit, her men. Well trained and eager to fight by the looks of it.

  A pair sparred in the center, sweat gleamed on their foreheads and wet their shirts. Swords clashed and scraped as they lunged and struck at each other. Aye, fit, they were.

  Duncan approached, with his scowling and ruddy faced. His anger worn upon his face was directed at her.

  She held her ground and waited for him to speak.

  He tipped his head. “Ye’ve mucked it up, laird.”

  Hope shrugged. She owned him nothing. “’Tis your opinion.”