by Madelyn Hill
“I was dishonorable.”
“Aye,” she said as she sniffled. “And I’ve yet to forgive you. But I do understand your need to keep a promise—a pledge. My sisters and I made one to my father on his deathbed and I’d sooner die than break the pledge.”
He smiled at this, touched by her proclamation. He swiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb. Was he the type of man who’d put aside his goals for a woman? His father’s quest had been told to him repeatedly over the years and at some point became his quest as well. Hope tipped her face up toward him. Vulnerability and grief creased her features. For her, he’d find a way for both of them to win. “When I started my quest, I thought of no other. Only the lairdship and that it was mine. Aye, only the lairdship.” With the shake of his head, he sighed. “Then I met a fiery lass, full of spirit, full of life, and bossy to boot.”
She smiled through the tears. He leaned down and kissed the trail they’d made along the soft skin of her cheek. “I know I hurt you.” His voice softened, his gaze filled with regret. “I . . . Hope, I’m so sorry.”
She looked up at him, her eyes bright and shimmering once again with tears. “Aidan,” whispered past her lips. “I love you.”
He lifted her up and carried her toward the bed. They kenned the truth, talking to Nora could wait. Gently laying her onto the bed, Aidan slowly untied her linen shirt, allowing his fingers to graze her skin. So soft, he thought as he skimmed along her collarbone, tracing down the path between her glorious breasts, the slight hollow of her stomach.
Hope arched toward him, her breaths coming in spurts as she grappled with pushing herself further upon the bed, pulling him along with her. “Aidan, I need you,” she whispered as she reached for his tartan.
“Easy,” he said as he aided her quest to unclothe him. Stripped bare, Aidan continued removing Hope’s tartan. He unwrapped the length of wool, pulled it from beneath her body as he reveled in caressing the smooth skin of her bottom. Och, she made him ramrod hard.
Her body was just like her—soft, hard, giving, strong. He moved down to her legs. Long, lean, incredibly beautiful. Aidan kissed along her hip, nipping close to her womanhood as she moaned and gripped his hair.
“Aye,” she said with a breathy tone. “Aye.”
Aidan smiled against her skin and continue his gentle assault down her legs until he came to her graceful ankles. He made his way upward, Hope’s moues of encouragement was all he needed to know she was enjoying this as much as he.
“Aidan,” she cried as she bucked from the bed.
He looked up at her, her skin glowing pink, her face a rapture of passion. “Does that pleasure you?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. His cods were going to burst.
“I need you,” Aidan growled. He rose over her, captured her mouth with his. Kissing her senseless. As they parried with their tongues, her hands roamed along his skin, scorching as they kneaded, clawed.
With one swift motion, he delved into the hot, moistness to the hilt. She cried and arched, pulling him in deeper.
With renewed vigor, they thrust, kissed, suckled. He pumped and pumped as Hope met his sweet assault as her hips rose up to him to move in tandem.
Wonder filled her face, bringing him to a point of no return. Aidan felt the passion boiling close to overflowing as Hope gripped his buttocks and wrapped her legs around his hips.
She undid him. With a roar surely heard by all, Aidan found his release as he pumped his seed into her womb.
Hope moaned as he continued, her head thrashing back and forth. “Aidan,” she cried. As she climaxed, pride filled him as she called out his name again and again.
Their connection was one of a kinship, a common goal.
And then she said she loved him. Humbled, he gently brushed his fingers along her cheek, cupping it as he skimmed his thumb along her swollen lips.
He wished he could say the words; tell her he loved her as she had told him. Yet something held him back, mayhap the way his mother cuckold his father or the quest for the lairdship was still deep within him.
No matter. He’d do right by her.
As I pledge.
Chapter 21
“The council isn’t going to stop trying to control the clan,” Hope reminded Aidan. “We have need of a plan.”
“Aye,” he said as he pulled her closer to his side. Her soft, womanly curves tucked perfectly against him. “Duncan will aid us.”
He felt her smile against his chest as she tickled her fingers along his ribs and abdomen. “Aye, he knows what will happen otherwise.”
Aidan tipped her chin so he could gaze into her eyes. “And what would happen to the lad?”
A sly grin tipped up the corner of her lips. “He’d meet the wrath of the laird.”
He furrowed his brow. “Which one?”
With that, she pounced on him, her gloriously naked body baited him as they clung to each other and he rolled her onto her back.
Just as he predicted, ire clenched her features. Aidan laughed. “’Twas a jest, m’laird.”
She halted her assault and watched him with a leeriness he’d thought they were past. A swift kiss to her nose and he couldn’t help himself. Her full breasts were pushed against him, taunting him with the loveliness. Her legs, entwined with his own, allowed the apex of her thighs to open to him, entice him with its hot, wet deliciousness.
“You’ll not be having your way with me again, Aidan. We’ve too much to do.” Try as she might, she couldn’t hide the bourgeoning desire flaring in her green eyes. Those bewitching eyes were the windows to her thoughts and desires and no matter how strong she aimed to be, they betrayed her.
She rolled out of his grasp and began dressing. He leaned against the headboard, folded his arms behind his head, and watched her. A few moments of pleasure would surely not bring the clan’s doom.
Hope stopped wrapping her tartan and looked at him. “Aidan, did you call me, m’laird?”
He nodded.
She took a few steps toward the bed. “Say it again.”
Aidan reached out and grabbed her hand. He slipped his fingers between hers and tugged her toward him. She landed on his lap and as he ignored the discomfort of his hardened shaft, he kissed her ear, tucked a nip along her neck, and the edge of her chin. “Aye, m’laird.”
Hope sunk into him as if his kisses and words had melted her. The languid actions surged the lust simmering beneath his skin. While he held her with one arm, the other reached around her and started unwrapping the tartan and loosening her shirt.
“Aidan,” she tried to warn with little enthusiasm.
“Aidan, what?”
Hope pulled back and searched his face. She slipped her hand up his chest, then cradled his head, driving him mad. His jaw clenched as he tried to hold back, hold back from ravishing her. “Aidan, my heart. My love.”
He growled as he crushed her against him.
With a hint of mischievous smile, he said, “And the council? Can they wait?”
Hope said with a lusty rasp, “They can go to Hades and wait.”
Aidan tipped his head back and laughed with a roar that nearly quaked the chamber. “Aye, that they can.”
They emerged from the laird’s chamber more than an hour later. Hope’s face was heated as they descended the stairs and heard a murmur of speculation from the clansmen who were in the main hall.
“Keep your head high, Hope,” Aidan whispered. “We’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”
She nodded, but a lump formed in her throat. What would her father say about the current predicament? Had he foreseen the desire of the council and that prompted his pledge as he lay dying? Or the demand she marry if she were to continue to rule? And what of her mother? “Aye,” she finally agreed as they reached the last step. She leaned over and
kissed his cheek as a signal to all who watched and speculated that they were indeed together.
“’Tis time you graced us with your presence,” Faith said with a snort. “Duncan’s been raving mad since the council decided to meet without you.”
“What’s that you say?” Aidan inquired as he pulled Faith and Hope to a more secluded area of the hall.
Not, Hope thought, that the hall wasn’t safe from prying eyes and listening clansmen. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed they had gained the interest of everyone in the hall.
Faith tossed an angry glance toward her father’s study. “Aye, the council is meeting as we speak.”
Hope sought Aidan’s eyes before they both nodded to her sister and headed toward her father’s study.
“Aidan,” she said as she rested her hand on his arm. “No matter what is said, we must remain a united front. They’ll try to exploit our differences.”
He kissed her forehead. “Aye, I agree.” With a quick grin, he continued up the stairs.
Loud voices were heard through the stout, oak door. Frustration and anger obvious in the tones.
She pushed the door open and felt the tension in the air. Duncan stood before the council, his face flushed red and anger darkening his eyes. Liam, blast his soul, sat in her father’s chair as if he did so every day. And, Hope thought, he most likely did so when she wasn’t in the room.
“Ah, m’laird.” He rose and bowed. “Thank you for joining us.”
She raised her brow. “’Tis odd I didn’t ken you were meeting this fine afternoon.”
“Well,” he blustered. “’Twasn’t planned, ye see.” He tipped his head toward the other men. “We need discussion, ’tis the truth of it.”
“Truth of it,” she said as if giving his words consideration. “I don’t think you’d ken the truth of it if you drank it with your ale.”
Aidan chuckled and moved next to her. “What are you discussing?”
Connor took a long draw of his ale. Stephen ignored them and Liam allowed a smug smile. “Well, ye of course. And the laird. Or,” he said as he tipped his head, “are ye laird?” He gave a shake of his head and tried to look contrite, but Hope was well used to his manipulative ways.
“Hope is laird.”
She looked at Aidan, proud and strong. He was publicly acknowledging her as laird. Here, before the council he proclaimed her laird. If possible, she loved him more. It was obvious the struggle he faced, she saw the conflict in his eyes. How his jaw flexed and the muscles along his forearm tensed. She touched his hand and smiled.
“Does it matter who is laird? The point is that you are not laird, Liam.” She moved to the table and watched as Duncan shifted between Liam and Aidan. Her cousin was showing his support at an opportune time. “We’ll have no more discussion about the lairdship. Aidan and I will let you know when we’ve decided our course of action.”
Liam pounded on the table. “Are ye going to take it, man? She’s got ye by the cods.”
Her betrothed cocked a brow and moved toward Liam. “Do not speak, auld man. You are not laird of this clan. Hope and her father before her ruled with the clan’s future in mind.”
Liam sputtered as Connor slapped his back. “Cease, ye fool,” he yelled at his fellow councilman. “The clan is my only concern.”
“So much so that you’d sacrifice men for war? With Clan Mungo?” Aidan said. “Her father didn’t want to fight Mungo. But the council did.”
“Aye,” she said. “And he was the one who paid the ultimate sacrifice.”
Liam gave a sage shake of his head. “And a day doesn’t go by that I doona think o’ him. He was my friend, my brother at arms.”
She and Duncan scoffed. Hope paced toward Liam. “He was my father.” Emotion cracked her voice and she had to look away.
“That I ken, lass.” Liam swept his hand across his face. “If we doona fight Mungo, they will come. They will take all.”
“War isn’t the only answer,” Duncan insisted.
She glanced about the room, watched the other men as they remained silent. This room had held many a meeting such as this. Discussions over war, land, and the clan’s survival. But didn’t they always survive? The clan had prospered from their position in the Highlands and the strength not to lash out when provoked. Diplomacy had helped her stave off needless fighting. Diplomacy had tasted sour in the rest of the council’s mouths, this she knew. “Mungo doesn’t want to lose their lads either. Do you think I don’t have people watching? Do you think you’re the only ones with spies?”
She felt Aidan’s appraisal and wondered what he thought of her words. Did he agree? Luckily, they’d decided to present a united front. She rubbed the back of her neck as she sat in her father’s chair. Send me wisdom, she prayed to her father. Help me deal with the stubborn men of the council.
If she knew her father, he was watching and laughing at her current predicament. He’d spent years dealing with these men and now it was her turn.
“Mungo is on the move.”
She nodded. “Aye. But our borders are secure.”
Liam pounded on the table, rattling the cups of ale. Connor glared at him, but still remained quiet.
“Do you not trust your men? Do you not trust your laird?” Aidan asked with a low tone. He flicked a glance in her direction and fetched ales for them both from the pitcher on the sideboard. “The border is protected, that should be enough assurance for you.” He looked at her over his tumbler and she saw a steely determination in his gaze.
Together, she thought. Together they’d be stronger instead of this division and animosity—both fulfilling their fathers’ pledge. She cleared her throat and her voice rose so there was no room for argument. “MacKerry and I will lead together. As one we will be the lairds of Clan MacAlister.”
Some of the men gasped. Connor cheered. Liam nearly growled. But ’twas the look on Aidan’s face, one of surprise and gratitude, which made her heart sing.
“Aye,” he said with a husky drawl. “Hope and I will lead together.”
“The clan will no’ be accepting ye, MacKerry,” Liam argued.
“Wheesht yer haud,” Connor said. “Laird MacAlister has decreed they will rule as one.”
“Leave us,” she said to the council and Duncan. Stephen stood and Connor and Duncan followed. Liam sat rigidly as if daring her to forcibly remove him from the chamber.
“Liam,” Aidan growled.
He started coughing and took a long swallow of ale. “Aye, I’ll do yer bidding. For now.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Bright, red blood stained his skin.
Hope rushed to his side. “Liam, your hurt.”
He held up a hand and shook his head. Anger pierced his gaze and he cast a furtive glance toward the door. Mayhap to see if his comrades had left. “Nay. Nothing to worry about.”
She gripped his hand and looked at the blood. “’Tis true then?”
He scowled and ripped his hand from hers. “Aye, ’tis a sickness.”
She narrowed her gaze at him unable to recall a time the man had ever been sick. She grabbed a rag from the sideboard and handed it to him. He watched her with a distrustful gaze as he cleaned his face.
“What sickness?” Aidan asked as he gave the man some water.
Liam shrugged. “Been plaguing me for a while. Herbs and ale help.”
This man had tried to usurp her power, that of her family. But, he’d also fought and bled with her father in defense of the clan well before the clash with Clan Mungo. Until he decided to fight against her father.
She sat by the man, gripped his arm. At a closer look, his skin did look dull. “Does Nora or Honor ken?”
He sighed and narrowed his rheumy eyes at her. “Nay.”
He look
ed so auld, defeated, withered. She sighed and thought about all of the arguing they’d done over the years and now this man was fading away right before her eyes. And she thought of her rage in Duncan’s crofter—the harsh reality of Liam’s part in her father’s death.
“Not to worry, m’laird. I’ll no be dying before I get me way.”
Aidan chuckled harshly. “I have no doubt, you will try. You will not succeed. As I pledge.”
“As we pledge,” she said as she gripped his hand.
Somehow sadness filled her as she looked at the man who had once been the strongest of warriors. Now he was stooped, gray haired, and frail. Blast the man and her sympathy for him. He’d killed her father.
“See if Nora can help,” she said.
He gave a raspy chuckle and swatted her hand away. “’Tis nothing to be done.”
She squeezed his hand. “I ken all, Liam. All you’ve wrought against my clan—against my father, the poor lad in the bailey.”
He merely nodded, as if resigned to his fate. “’Twas needed, m’laird. Needed for the clan.”
She moved toward him, slammed her hands on the table, and looked closely into his eyes. “Needed to be done? You killed a man—my father. You killed a lad.” Och, she wanted to throttle the man. “I could have you hung for your crimes.”
Liam shoved from the table and glared at her and MacKerry. “You ken nothing of the foe we faced. Mungo would have come and killed our lads and raped our women and lasses. No honor, the Mungos.” He spat as he talked, a mix of blood and spittle dribbled down his chin.
“My father would have protected the clan. He was an honorable man—you are not.”
“Aye, Liam. Killing the laird because you didn’t agree with the way he ruled ’twas dishonorable. You will need to pay for his death and the lad’s.”
