by Emma Prince
That was Aileas’s special someone, the man she loved, and who loved her in return.
“Nay,” Laird MacConnell rasped. “No daughter of mine will consort with a MacBean.”
“I…I think they’ve already done more than consort, Laird MacConnell,” Caroline said on a sputtering exhale.
MacConnell rounded on her, and though he had regained his feet, Callum kept his hands balled in his tunic.
“Easy,” Callum warned.
Callum earned a glare from MacConnell for that. The Laird couldn’t seem to decide at whom to direct his rage in that moment. He glowered between Callum, Caroline, and Aileas.
“My grandbairn will no’ be a MacBean,” MacConnell said to no one in particular.
Instinctively, Caroline moved to Aileas’s side to face MacConnell.
“Ye can disown me, Father, but I love Terek. I cannae hide the truth any longer. Our bairn will be a MacBean and a MacConnell.”
As if he were a balloon that had been popped, MacConnell suddenly deflated, sagging in Callum’s hold.
“How…how can this be happening?”
“We met two years past,” Aileas offered, gentling her tone. “When ye met with Laird MacBean about ending his raids along our border.”
“The MacBeans are harassing MacConnell lands as well?” Caroline asked, glancing at Callum.
“Aye,” he replied. “They use the same tactics as they do against the MacMorans—striking vulnerable border farms, stealing sheep and cows, and occasionally grain as well.” He turned to MacConnell. “Though we have agreed on little these last two days, we can agree that an alliance would benefit both our clans in taking a stand against the MacBeans.”
“But now that alliance cannae be forged by marriage,” Aileas added, her voice soft but firm. “Terek has already asked for my hand many a time. I refused, fearing the consequences to our clans’ union and yer wrath, Father, but now that there is a bairn, I cannae deny our love any longer. I will wed Terek.”
“Nay!” MacConnell moaned.
“Ye would rather I bear a bastard, Father?”
At her words, MacConnell exhaled, making a sound close to a whimper. Caroline feared he might slump fully to the ground, but he managed to stay upright.
“Good God, daughter, what have ye done?”
“I have followed my heart—just as ye did, Father. Ye stole Mother from the Camerons for heaven’s sake, and all because ye loved her. And dinnae imagine I am too innocent to notice the fact that I was born six months after ye married her.”
MacConnell’s face flushed a deep red, but Caroline couldn’t tell if it was from anger or embarrassment at the verity of Aileas’s words.
As he continued to sputter, Caroline turned to Aileas.
“Why did you tell everyone you’re pregnant?” she murmured.
Aileas blinked. “Because it is the truth.”
“Yes, but…you were keeping it a secret. To protect Terek and your love—and your child.” Caroline couldn’t help but glance at Aileas’s middle with a faint smile before returning her concerned gaze to the young woman’s face. “Why reveal it now?”
Aileas took Caroline’s hand and squeezed it. “My father and the seneschal were ready to declare ye a poisoner. If I didnae tell the truth, ye would have suffered. And we lasses have to stick together.”
“Then no one tried to poison Mistress Aileas?” Tilly piped up, her red brows furrowed in confusion.
“Someone still put foxglove in her stew,” Caroline said with a frown.
Just then, her gaze fell on Eagan, who had been slowly backing away from the group.
Callum must have noticed him, too, for he released Laird MacConnell’s tunic at last and strode slowly toward Eagan.
“Explain something to me, Eagan,” he said, his voice cold and flat. “Ye claim to have observed Aileas eating her stew, then when she grew ill, ye noticed the foxglove in her bowl. But Aileas never ate the stew. So how did ye find the foxglove so quickly? And why did yer mind go straight to the notion that Caroline had tried to poison Aileas?”
A dark thought struck Caroline then. Sure, Eagan had never seemed to like her, but would he really try to frame her for poisoning?
Eagan continued backing up as Callum slowly advanced, until the seneschal bumped into the garden’s stone wall. His blue-gray eyes were wide as his gaze flicked desperately over them all.
“I…ye dinnae…”
“Well?” Callum snapped, halting before Eagan, close enough that he was effectively pinning the seneschal to the wall with his broad form. “Was it ye, Eagan? Did ye put the foxglove there?”
Abruptly, Eagan’s face crumpled and he slumped against the stones. “I was trying to help ye, Laird,” he breathed in a rush. “The woman was distracting ye from yer duty—risking yer alliance with Laird MacConnell and the peace yer father worked so hard for! Ye needed to be rid of her, but she’d clouded yer mind so much that ye couldnae even see it. I was only trying to give ye reason to send her away so that ye could focus on yer negotiations with Laird MacConnell!”
“By poisoning my sweet daughter?” MacConnell demanded, regaining some of his indignant outrage from earlier.
“I didnae mean for any real harm to come to her,” Eagan replied, staring wide-eyed between Callum and MacConnell. “I used the leaves of the foxglove rather than the flowers. She would have gotten sick, aye, but it wouldnae have killed her.”
Callum shot a glance at Tilly over his shoulder. “Is that true?”
“Aye,” the cook said grudgingly. “A few leaves wouldnae kill the lass, only make her ill.” Then she frowned. “I dinnae ken what it would do to a woman carrying a bairn, though.”
Aileas sucked in a breath and brought shaking fingers to her lips. “Thank God I didnae actually eat any of the stew.”
“I didnae ken about the bairn, I swear!” Eagan pleaded.
“But ye still tried to poison my daughter,” MacConnell barked. It seemed that with someone else to direct his rage at, the Laird was rapidly forgetting his anger at Aileas and the MacBean offspring she carried.
“And ye thought to paint Caroline as the villain in yer scheme,” Callum went on, narrowing his eyes at Eagan.
“Laird, she is an outsider, no’ one of us,” Eagan implored. “Yer duty—”
“Dinnae lecture me on my duty,” Callum thundered. “I ken my role. I am yer Laird, Eagan. Yet ye thought ye kenned better than I what our people need.”
“I-I beg yer forgiveness, Laird,” Eagan said, cowering against the wall. “I only thought to help the clan.”
Callum let a sharp breath go, clearly trying to calm himself. He turned and met Caroline’s gaze, his eyes blazing with fury for Eagan. But they also bore a shadow of…guilt.
Caroline felt it, too. Though Eagan was horrifyingly wrong in his methods, his motives weren’t evil. He’d sought to protect the clan and ensure peace.
And the truth was, she and Callum had threatened that peace. He’d been ready to dissolve a marriage alliance without a clear alternative to placate Laird MacConnell. And she’d selfishly pursued her desire, her love for Callum, without thought of the consequences to him and his people once she returned to her own time.
What was more, a part of her had enjoyed dallying here, savoring the feeling of belonging, of being needed, wanted. She’d let herself indulge in the simple pleasures and joys of life at Kinmuir—life with Callum—when her sisters probably thought she was missing or dead.
Unbidden, shame tightened her throat and burned behind her eyes. She’d made a mess of things, just as she had when she’d dropped out of school, and just as she had when she’d abandoned her parents’ flower shop. She’d always had someone else to clean things up, to make things right—her parents, her sisters, and now the man she’d come to love.
But it was time for her to clean up her own messes, to set aside her selfish longings and help Callum secure a future for himself and his people—without her.
And it was time to own
up to her responsibility to keep her family together.
It was time to go home.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Callum rode hard through Kinmuir’s gates, reining in his horse in a spray of dirt and pebbles. He leapt from the saddle, tossing the reins to a lad who scrambled upright from his relaxed slouch against the side of the stables, eyes wide at his Laird’s abrupt arrival.
Aye, he was eager to lay eyes on Caroline after a day spent away from the castle. Callum resented every moment apart from her, and every interruption that separated them. But he had to admit, in this case the task that had kept him was a worthy one. Anxious excitement coiled through him at the prospect of telling her about it.
As expected, he found her in the garden. She was just straightening from a crouch beneath the climbing rose, where she’d been tying it to the wooden trellis behind it with bits of twine. Not noticing him in the gateway, she arched her back and dragged the sleeve of her moss green gown over her forehead, admiring the rose for a moment.
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the stone wall, letting himself drink in the sight of her. She was a soothing balm and a blazing fire all at once, somehow managing to make him feel calm and aflame at the same time. Her hair shone like a polished chestnut in the summer sun, her cheeks faintly flushed from her exertions.
But he wanted to feel the heat of her pale blue eyes on him, so he cleared his throat.
She whirled, her face lighting up like a dawning sky when her gaze landed on him. She wiped her hands on the apron tied over her gown and began to hurry toward him, but he stepped fully into the garden, moving to her so that they could remain in her favorite place.
“You’re back,” she said, searching him with her gaze. “How did it go?”
Two days past, when Aileas had revealed that she carried Terek MacBean’s bairn and Eagan’s plot to be rid of Caroline had been exposed, Callum had sent a missive to Girolt MacBean requesting another meeting. Yesterday, the MacBean Laird’s terse agreement had arrived.
And today Callum had accompanied Laird MacConnell, Aileas, and their contingent of MacConnell warriors to Loch Darraig for a tête-à-tête with the MacBeans.
“Surprisingly well,” Callum replied. He guided her to the wooden bench beside the climbing rose. “Blood wasnae spilt, which is always the sign of a good start to a marriage.”
They sat next to each other, close enough that his thigh brushed hers. The scents of rich soil, plant life, and sweet roses clung to her, drifting to him softly.
“Then Laird MacBean agreed that Aileas and Terek could marry?” she asked, her brows arching hopefully.
Callum smiled at her impatience. Then again, a hell of a lot had happened in the last two days, and much had been riding on this meeting.
After Laird MacConnell’s initial shock at learning his daughter had been impregnated by his enemy’s son, the man had turned surprisingly pliant under Aileas’s gentle, sweet resolve to wed Terek. It seemed as though the concept that his grandbairn would be a MacBean was softened by the knowledge that his only daughter was going to become a mother soon.
But of course the bull-headed Laird’s bluster had returned when he realized that Girolt MacBean might be even less pleased with the fact that his son had gotten a bairn on a MacConnell.
It had been Caroline’s brilliant idea to point out that several of their problems could be solved if they could convince Laird MacBean to allow Aileas and Terek to wed.
The MacMorans and the MacConnells already enjoyed a peaceful, neighborly relationship—one that had been tested by recent events, aye, but which was still strong despite the lack of a marriage alliance.
And if the MacConnells and MacBeans were joined together through wedlock, the MacBeans would be brought in line both when it came to the MacConnells, and also their close allies the MacMorans. No warfare necessary, or forced marriages, just the union of two young people who already loved one another.
MacConnell had readily agreed, yet he’d been stubbornly certain that MacBean wouldn’t be so easily convinced. But at least MacBean had been willing to speak with MacConnell.
“Dinnae ye want to hear the whole tale of what happened from start to finish?” Callum teased.
Caroline rolled her eyes. “A simple ‘aye’ or ‘nay’ would put me out of my misery—and then you can tell me all the details, of course.”
“Verra well, then. Aye, he agreed to the marriage.”
She exhaled, a bright grin curving her mouth. “Oh good. All right, now start from the beginning.”
Callum chuckled. “Things were tense at first, as was to be expected. I’m glad I was serving as the arbiter, for things might truly have come to blows a time or two. But once both MacConnell and MacBean’s blood cooled a wee bit, they allowed Terek and Aileas to speak.”
“And they actually listened?”
“Aye, for both Aileas and Terek were verra clever in their approach. They spoke of peace between our three clans, and all that could be gained from an alliance. And then they mused on the bairn for a time, including what they might name the wee lad or lass. That turned MacBean in particular to porridge.”
Caroline laughed, leaning her head back against the stone wall behind them. “I can’t imagine that man—either of them, actually—as a cooing, besotted grandfather. But I’m glad it worked.”
“The negotiations will continue between MacBean and MacConnell regarding the marriage,” Callum continued. “But both MacConnell and I wished to extract a pledge from MacBean to cease his raids and reiving along our borders from this day forth. When MacBean hesitated, I feared all our progress would be lost, but then Terek explained why the MacBeans had been stealing.”
“Oh?”
“It seems a blight moved through their crops a few years back, and they still havenae recovered from that terrible season. To make matters worse, they are being pestered by the MacLeans on their northwestern border, who are stealing livestock from the MacBeans’ already pinched herds. The MacBeans were going hungry. They stole grain and animals from us to put food in the bellies of their starving bairns.”
Caroline’s eyes widened with surprise and sadness. “That is awful.”
“Aye, but at least now we ken the truth. Instead of sending Aileas to Terek with a dowry of coin, MacConnell will send grain instead, as he’s had two strong harvest years in a row. And I pledged several of this spring’s lambs and calves to them as well. A wedding gift of sorts—in exchange for MacBean’s pledge that they will no longer raid along our border.”
“Then you have the peace you’ve been working so hard for,” Caroline said. “It has all worked out. Except…”
Her gaze drifted to the keep, and his followed.
“Have you decided what to do about Eagan?” she asked hesitantly.
He stared at the west tower, where Eagan had been locked in his chamber until Callum could determine an apt punishment for his former seneschal.
“Nay,” he replied. “I dinnae believe he deserves death, despite his willingness to harm Aileas—and ye.”
“That night you found me trying to escape over the wall. The night we…” She trailed off, her cheeks pinkening and her gaze drifting to the shade beneath the fruit trees at the back of the garden. She cleared her throat, tearing her eyes away. “For what it’s worth, he could have hurt me if he’d truly wanted to, but he didn’t. All he wanted was for me to leave.”
“Aye, but I cannae trust him now—no’ as seneschal, and no’ even under my roof as a servant. No’ when he thinks to usurp my position as Laird by assuming he kens better than I what is best for my people.” He fixed her with a penetrating stare. “And no’ when he seeks to take what is most dear to me.”
Her gaze dropped to her lap for a moment, and the lingering flush on her cheeks told him she was moved by his fierce protectiveness. “I can see why you wouldn’t want him in the clan anymore,” she said at last. “But what will you do with him, then?”
Callum let a long
breath go. “There is to be a tourney between several neighboring clans in a few sennights. I’ll seek the counsel of the other Lairds there. At the moment, I am too angry to give Eagan a fair judgment, but he can remain in his chamber for a time until I determine what his punishment shall be.”
Silence fell for a moment, but then Caroline shot him a half-smile.
“A real medieval tournament,” she mused. “That would be a hell of a thing to see.”
Slowly, he lifted one of her hands in both of his. He cradled it as if it were the most precious, delicate thing in the world.
“Ye ken, ye could see it if ye wished.”
When their gazes met, her eyes shimmered with pain. “I know.”
God, seeing her hurting was like a knife in his chest. “Is yer time truly so much better than this one, then?” he prodded teasingly, trying to draw a smile from her. “Ye must miss yer airplanes and yer…what was the bean drink called again?”
She breathed a chuckle. “Coffee,” she supplied. “And yes, I miss a few things. You would understand if you’d ever experienced a hot shower with the turn of a knob.” She sobered, meeting his gaze. “But I don’t really care about losing indoor plumbing, or anything else from my time. I would stay here, if by some magic my sisters…”
Caroline dropped her chin, blinking back the tears welling up once more.
“And…and would it make a difference if I asked ye to stay?” he murmured. “If I asked ye to be my wife?”
Her breath hitched and her head snapped up. For the briefest moment, he basked in the clear, shining light of love in her gaze. But then she squeezed her eyes shut, her brow creasing in sadness.
“You know I can’t stay,” she whispered. “Even though I love you.”
He lifted one hand to her face and dragged his thumb over the tear that had slipped down her cheek. “I ken it. Yer sisters are waiting for ye.”
“I can’t give up on them. I have to at least try to find a way back to them.”
