by Madelyn Hill
Duncan threw his head back and laughed. “Nay, ‘tis the opinion o’ most.” He leaned in closer. “MacKerry says he’s laird.”
She shivered at the thought, but glared at her cousin. “Aye, ’tis what he says.”
Her cousin squinted at her as if inspecting her for the first time. “Are ye no going to thrash him?”
Startled, Hope thought for a moment. Why was Duncan being so kind? He’d done nothing but vex her since MacKerry’s arrival and now he was being kind.
She crossed her arms before her chest. “What of the lad? Who do you think killed him?”
Duncan shook his head. “Nay. ’Tis a mystery, to be sure.”
“Mayhap not.” Hope looked her cousin in the eye. “Do you think he knew MacKerry?”
With a grimace, Duncan shifted his weight and looked at the men in the practice yard. “I doona ken the man and I doona like the man, but a murderer? Nay.”
Hope wouldn’t retreat. “He arrives here, claims he was summoned. Agrees to marry me and a lad is found dead and MacKerry’s dirk is missing.” She lowered her voice. “What better motive then to kill a lad who recognized him?”
Duncan shook his head. “Yer daft. Doona ye think he was summoned? Liam and the others are aulder than loam. They kenned who he was.”
Hope furrowed her brow and rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. Rubbing a finger back and forth, the worn metal soothed her. Aye, what Duncan said was true.
She’d been a pawn, a victim of their game.
Anger raced through her as she unsheathed her sword and marched to the middle of the training area. She drew her sword against Dougal, one of the men training. A mite young, but lean with hard fought muscles and she knew a quick and eager mind.
“Have at me,” she growled at his confused expression. “Aye, you heard me.”
She paced forward and the lad took a step back, tripping on a rock and fumbling with his weapon.
“Come on, you eejit,” she yelled. “Raise your sword.”
He dropped his sword and held up his hands. “Nay, laird.” Dougal nodded to her and gave a mock salute as he turned and left the training area.
She rested the tip of her sword on the ground. Her breath coming fast as her anger shifted to fury.
“Does anyone have the courage to fight me?”
The men stopped their actions and stared at her.
“Are you all cowards?” She raised her sword into the air. “Does anyone have the courage to fight me?” she repeated and punched the weapon upward to accentuate her ire.
It was as if the air stood still while all watched, waited.
Hope waited as well. Disheartened, but still holding the weighty sword above her head.
“I’ll challenge you,” a voice behind her called.
She closed her eyes and sighed as she lowered her arm. She turned toward MacKerry.
He stood strong and proud. His weapon gleamed at his side and the crisp white shirt he wore made him look handsome beyond measure. She almost, almost wavered. ’Twas the exhaustion plaguing her, she thought. It was not possible to think clearly when one had not slept well the evening before and then had their heart crushed.
Vexing, truly, that MacKerry was the cause of her sleepless state.
And there he stood, flesh, braw, full of Highlander arrogance. The sun ricocheted off of his dark hair, glistened in the dewy drops of sweat beaded on his forehead.
Remain strong, she warned herself. With a quick straightening of her shoulders, she said, “There is nothing I’d rather do than run my sword through your unworthy body, MacKerry.” Her shrug took all of her resolve to manage, Hope continued as she lifted her weapon and casually examined it. “Mayhap one of the wee lads would care to dally with you. I am looking for stouter game.”
MacKerry threw his head back and laughed, deep and rich. The gall of the man, she seethed. “I wager you are looking for other game, but, alas, I’m the only game you’ll find in this keep.”
She tipped her head and looked at him. “Would you truly like to spar with me? Your intended? The one you have tried to steal the lairdship from like a gutter thief?” Hope ignored the dangerous gleam in his eyes. She took a step forward and playfully spun her weapon in her hands, the weight reassuring and tangible, calming. “What more could you possibly gain?”
MacKerry moved with such deft speed Hope was thrown off kilter. He snatched her sword and tossed it aside. Metal clanked against the earth and stones. He wrapped his muscle-strapped arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Her breath whooshed from her as she hit his broad chest with a mix of anger, pleasure, and desire.
The solid length of him against her muddled her mind and Hope almost capitulated and allowed her heart to rule her actions. But what a wretched mess her heart had wrought. She ignored his strong legs cradling hers, the hardness of his manhood as it pressed against her womb, and the look of steel and strength, powerfully heady, of his gaze as he bore down on her like a hawk after prey.
Dignity, she reminded herself. Her mother and father had ruled with dignity. Hope slowly turned out of MacKerry’s hold. “I do not have that type of sparring in mind.”
She left the practice field, breathless and confused, but proud she didn’t allow her baser needs to override her pride.
Aidan had watched her leave, the long, lean line of her back, the set of her shoulders, gave witness to her ire. She was piqued, his betrothed.
The fire of her set his loins to aching. He wanted to follow her, pull her into his chamber, and make love to her as if the Wild Thistle Keep was crumbling and falling into Sound of Sleat and this was their one last chance of passion.
If he’d proposed it, she would have spat in his face. Damn Liam and his meddling. If Aidan had been able to tell Hope the truth in his own way, they wouldn’t be in their current predicament. Aye, she’d be angered, but he’d have been able to reason with her.
Now, as she strode from him and into the keep he knew naught what to do. And even as the council had created this mess, they weren’t his allies. Nay, they were the foes with control on their mind.
Aidan looked around the training field. Men still gathered as if waiting to see what would happen next. He wasn’t here for their amusement, damn them.
He threw them a disgruntled look and followed Hope. He called to her and she ignored him. Instead, she entered the keep and headed toward her chamber. Aye, she was stubborn. He deserved her scorn, but she would listen to him.
He had a story to share. A story of a family wronged.
“Hope,” he called again. Even when she slammed her chamber door, he continued to call to her.
Aidan tried to open the door, but she’d barred it. “Hope, let me in, lass,” he said gently.
He heard her moving beyond the door. “I’m asking you to please open the door.”
The door creaked open. “Lad,” Nora said with question in her eyes. “She needs time to be alone.”
Aidan looked at the old woman. She’d been kind to him, kinder to Hope and Aidan wanted to respect her. He kenned Hope needed time, but he kenned even stronger she needed to hear his story.
Nora touched his forearm as she exited the room and stood by him in the hall. “I remember you. A braw fighter to be sure.” She chuckled. “Aye, you would stand up to a lad twice your age and nearly win.”
Curious, Aidan didn’t interrupt her. He didn’t remember the woman before him, but she clearly knew him. And the memories had wrought sadness to her face as her eyes sheened with unshed tears.
“When your parents left, och, there was such chattering of tongues.” She shook her head as a slight smile formed on her lips. “The clan wasn’t quite the same after that. Aye, Hope’s father led us well. He was strong, but fair and kind.”
Strong, but
fair. Bollocks, those words chaffed. “My father should have been laird.” Aidan pulled away from her touch and crossed his arms before his chest. “Not a fairer man has lived in Scotland.”
She tutted as a grandmother would placate her grandchild. “’Tis the truth of it, lad. He was a wonderful man. ’Twas yer mother,” she paused while giving him a quick gauging look to see if her words bother him.
He nodded to prod her to reveal more.
Nora shrugged. “She caused the rift and left you clanless.”
The information wasn’t new to him. His father had often taken the blame for Aidan’s mother’s machinations in an attempt to make sure Aidan wouldn’t hate her. Yet, hate her he did. He’d witnessed his father’s shame after she’d left them for better offerings. And the words spouted by the council weren’t entirely a surprise. He’d heard some rumors while living with the MacKerrys. His father had pushed them aside and begging him to ignore the sour words.
Yet his da held onto the bitter memories with a pledge to right all wrongs. Aidan heard the pledge day and night with each glance at the worrisome brow of his father’s. Aye, the lines etched deep around his da’s eyes, deep with pain and stress.
But never did he blame his wife, Mairead. Nay, ’twas always the MacAlister clan.
Aidan scrubbed his hand through his hair. Tension riddled his body as he tried to think, not feel as his emotions had ruled him thus far, but think. “Come with me,” Aidan told Nora. “I need to know all.”
She nodded with a pleased look upon her face. “Aye, that ye do, lad.”
He led her to his chamber and bade her to sit on the humble chair near the window. He leaned against the door after he shut it, not certain where to begin, what to ask, and what he really wanted to know.
“Lad, first, ye have to ken she is attracted to you. More so than I’ve ever see her.” The old woman ruefully shook her head. “Ye ken ’tis hard for her, without Catriona.”
Aidan released some of the tension gnarled in his shoulders. Aye, his Hope was in the same situation. She was about to have the lairdship taken from her just as his family had.
Sympathy slipped into his mind and he brushed it aside. ’Twas too early for sympathy, he needed to hear more of what Nora had to say. He had to achieve his goal and that of his family. A matter of pride and longing filled him as he watched Nora contemplate what to say next.
“Ach, lad, she was a beauty, your mother. She was so full of life.” Nora clutched her chest at the memories. “Not a man around could resist her charm. She asked and they gave if ’twas possible. Except when she asked for the lairdship for your father.”
Aidan exhaled when he realized he was holding his breath. He envisioned his mother and knew her beauty was hard to surpass. But beauty was more than a comely face. She had no strength of character, no honor, and certainly not the fire a man could latch onto and not let go. “Surely, not all were under her spell.”
Nora allowed a soft chuckle. “Aye, ’twas one. And he was the most important of all.”
“Laird MacAlister,” he stated knowing he was right as the puzzle of his past began to form a picture. His mother had reached too high. ’Twas a foolish play for power when his father would have earned the right soon enough. The council had been in his pocket. They’d wanted him. How many times had they told him the council was tired of MacAlister’s ways of peace when they wanted war to obtain more land, holdings, power?
Aidan moved to the arrow slit in order to look out the window. The view was small, but it offered him something to make it look like he was contemplating the information Nora had shared.
Unsettled, he turned toward the old woman. “Why did the council send for me?”
Nora looked to the floor and shrugged her shoulders. She knew, but didn’t want to share. He smirked as he eased down to his haunches and tipped her chin up. “I’ve mucked it up with Hope. I need to set things to right.” If ’twas possible.
For so long he’d allowed the past to rule his future. It spurred him forward, drove all of his actions—fueled his vengeance. His da’s vengeance. The needed to make things right, fulfilling his pledge to his father had eaten at him, darkened his soul so much, he was willing to hurt a woman such as Hope and unsettle the entire clan. He pinched his brow, trying to see straight, think clearly.
His gut sank at his selfishness. Aye, he’d made the pledge to his father. But his father’s bitterness, no matter how warranted, had tarnished his view of a good woman.
And through Aidan’s selfishness, he’d broken Hope’s heart. Damaged his own, truth be told. His throat tightened and he hated himself. Hated who he’d become as he tried to bring justice.
Would it make a difference to his father if Aidan failed to become laird? Och, his heart clenched at letting his father down. Nora touched his arm and looked up at him.
She smiled at him. He offered a quick one in return.
He kenned his father. He’d only be disappointed in him if Aidan didn’t follow his heart.
Never had he felt the depth of feelings he had for Hope.
He scoffed and Nora frowned. It seemed as if she kenned his heart better then himself.
Aidan didn’t know when he decided to ignore the council and seek Hope to find a solution. Watching her today as she challenged the men of the clan and refused him nearly tore him in two. The vulnerability darkened her eyes, the angry tilt of her chin, he’d broken her spirit and that just couldn’t be.
She was proud and lovely and the fact he’d crushed her with his deceit ate at his very soul. Never had he invested in thinking of those he’d displaced when he came to retrieve his lairdship, not once.
The truth of it was, he loved her.
Aye, he loved her.
As he looked at Nora, the wise lines on her face and the compassion deep within her eyes, Aidan knew she’d help him.
He had to make things right with Hope and with that, he’d make things right with the entire clan
Nora patted Aidan’s cheek. “There’s a lad,” she said with a cooing tone. “I’ve loved that lass like my own since she was born. At times she’s a pain in the arse, but never has she put herself before others. Never.”
He nodded. “Aye, ’tis the truth of it.” And one of the many reasons he loved her.
“There was much treachery and those who committed the crimes are still on the council,” she said gravely.
He’d speak with Hope alone, but needed help with the council. “We’ve need of a plan to expose the council. Who else will help?”
A broad smile tilted Nora’s mouth. “Why Duncan, of course.”
Hope had rushed to her chamber, slammed the door closed and was greeted by her sisters and Nora.
Aidan had pounded on the door and Hope quickly shook her head to indicate she didn’t want them to answer the door.
Nora left to placate him, she supposed with a frown.
Faith stood and came over to her. Compassion and pity shadowed her eyes as she swept Hope into a tight hug. “The devil take him, I say.”
Honor rose and hovered near them. “Aye, he’s a horrible man.” She awkwardly patted Hope’s shoulder. “Aye, horrible.”
Warmth spread through her despite the situation. ’Twas nice to have their support, the love she felt from them. At times she often felt that they did not realize her responsibilities. They liked to run around the keep as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Well, they fulfilled their duty in their own way. Honor and her healing skills. Faith loved to hunt for the clan, leading the take and making the men grouse about her luck.
“What will we do?” Faith asked as she pulled her sister toward the fire and gently shoved her into the chair. “If MacKerry is laird, where will we go?”
A chill shivered her spine. Never did she think she wouldn’t be laird. Never did she
think she’d not be there to help her people like her father had before her.
Nay, she mentally chastised herself.
Hope was laird, now, and for as long as God allowed her to grace the Highlands. The fight for her lairdship would be a worthy bout. Blast the council, Aidan, and those who had stood aside as Liam manipulated the clan.
She knew Liam was responsible for the nameless lad’s death, MacKerry’s arrival, and her current predicament. Aye, deep within her she knew. ’Twas no other answer, but the motive, aye, the motive was still elusive. Why would he kill the lad?
She had to find out their plan. She’d deal with MacKerry later. It was too painful to think of him now. Hope had trusted him, she’d given him something dear and precious. Damn him.
For now, she had to go to the main hall. Clan members awaited her to listen to needs and squabbles. ’Twas still her right and since the council hadn’t denounced her as laird yet, she’d continue to do what she’d always done.
She’d show them how a true laird took care of a clan.
There was a small crowd gathered around the dais, no Aidan, which surprised her. She half expected him to try and take this duty from her. She sat and looked at them and a weariness consumed her. She remembered when her father led, how he’d have her sit by his feet and watch, learning how he solved problems with grace and intellect. Aye, there were some problems which were never solved and it weighted his shoulders. But Hope had found the clan respected him, trusted him, despite what the council or Liam thought.
Auld Crog paced toward the front, his tam gripped tight in his hands. He twisted the cap as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.
“What can I do for you, Crog?”
He looked to the ground then peeked up at her. “Laird, ’tis a dire day when a man has to ask for help.”
She leaned forward, truly curious about the man’s request. He’d always been braw and provided for his clan. “Go on.”
