“The Brouns will be expecting us today. This eve will be one of comfort,” Stephen said.
“What of my plaid? The reds of the Stewarts differ from the reds of the Brouns,” Alan said.
“I have a plaid tucked aside along the way for you to wear.”
Alan didn’t question this. It was not an unheard of thing for warriors to have a plaid here and there. One never knew what or where the next day would bring them and extra clothing could only be a boon.
So it was, a few hours later into their journey, that a scowling Stewart highlander donned a lowland Broun tartan. With a heavy sigh, Alan muttered, “Unsettling. Wrong colors.”
Caitriona smothered a grin. Most would think him prideful. She knew better. The man was vain.
“What think you?” He asked of her, frown heavy as he stood with his hands on his hips.
I think you could wear a rotted carcass and still turn the lasses heads. She offered a tentative smile. “‘Tis verra nice, my Laird.”
“Alan.” He shook his head and continued to cast a dubious eye at his plaid. “Please, no more ‘my laird’ from you.”
“Aye, of course,” she said softly, “Alan.”
The path they’d been following had slowly taken on the well-worn definition of a route often traveled. Soon after Alan changed, they finally came upon several men on horseback. Caitriona was relieved to see they all wore the Broun plaid. One dismounted and greeted Stephen warmly. “My old friend! ‘Tis been too long. Where have you been off to?”
Stephen shook hands with the stranger, hand to elbow and smiled. “Pleasure to the north. Visiting with friends.”
Introductions were brief before the men moved on. Caitriona couldn’t help but notice the wary appraisal they cast Alan’s way. She didn’t blame them. Not only was his stature substantial but he carried the natural bearing of a man who was used to being in charge. Voice low, Stephen said, “‘Though it need not be said, ‘tis important you always use the Broun name. Even one slip will cause trouble.”
“Aye,” said Alan. “But ‘twill be no easy task.”
Caitriona didn’t have much issue with using her clan’s name. After all, they had been kind to her and her Ma. Kinder, many would say, than any clan would have been under their particular circumstances.
The sun sat low in the sky as they drew closer to their destination. Caitriona appreciated the familiarity of the land and Broun castle when it appeared through the trees. Little had changed in over a century. A hint of sea salt rode a light breeze. And despite Alan’s utterances of the lowlands being so bloody flat, there were indeed shallow but rolling hills.
Unlike the castles and holdings far north, the Broun’s main keep held a bit of charm. Aye, it was practical by all means; with arrow slit windows and a well-laid moat. However, it seemed to possess more curves and allure than those in the highlands. Or perhaps she just saw it that way more so now because she’d come to know the woman who had this castle built. Iosbail MacLomain was a lass who, though practical by all means, possessed more allure than most. And God knew she used it to her advantage with the lads.
“Is it as you remember?” Alan asked.
“Mostly,” she replied. “More stone has been added to this version. The trees have changed somewhat. There are larchs and oaks here now that are not present in the eleventh century.”
“I would ask you to show me around but I am sure that would raise some brows.”
“Indeed. After all, I have never been here before.”
“I would, however, verra much like to hear more about your time here when the opportunity arises.”
Their eyes met for a moment and Caitriona’s blood warmed. Though the statement sounded respectful enough there was an unmistakable underlying invitation. She supposed Alan couldn’t help himself. And it seemed, based on her body’s reaction, neither could she.
It was a rather odd thing already knowing that she stood here with her twin soul and he did not recognize her. There existed a very real possibility that he may never. Interesting how that notion affected her despite her determination to mask her true emotions.
Adlin MacLomain had little time to teach her how to manage what it would feel like to actually see Alan for the first time. Thus far, she’d been able to recognize and control her feelings. But she wondered if she would remain so strong.
Alan’s attention was now completely on the castle and its community. There could be no doubt that the Stewart laird had already memorized not only the placement of every man, but the weapons that they carried and how adept they were at using them. However, instinct told her that if something went wrong and they needed to escape, he would have them out of there before most had a chance to draw their weapons.
“Come, we must greet Tamas,” Stephen said.
Though the day grew long, the Broun clan was thriving and busy. Thatched roofed cottages dappled the edges of the wood line, built strategically to keep families near enough to the main holding yet comfortably close to the ocean. Seafood was by far one of this clan’s main staples.
As they walked clanfolk nodded and smiled. Many greeted Stephen along the way. It was easy to see he was well liked. When they neared a large group of men target practicing with battle axes, he slowed. While many would think he slowed out of respect for the lad currently throwing, Caitriona knew better. No, his focus was wholly on the lone lass amongst the group. Tall, with reddish-blond hair, she had the virility of a fighter while simultaneously possessing the unmistakable magnetism of a much desired female. It was impossible not to feel the connection between Stephen and this woman though she still stood off a distance.
Caitriona knew instinctually that though this woman had not looked once in Stephen’s direction, her feelings for him were intense. When at last the woman’s turquoise blue eyes did swing their way, it was just as she suspected. They were vibrant and solely focused on Stephen. His, however, remained locked on the clansman who stood beside her.
“Ah! He returns from where I know naught,” boomed that very man.
The group split open as they approached. Stephen grinned. “Aye! ‘Tis been too long, Laird Tamas.”
Tamas nodded, grin slightly less wide, and locked arms with Stephen in greeting. The affectionate gesture was brief. “I see you have brought guests.”
“Aye, Brouns from my family in the north.” He gestured at them. “This is Caitriona and Alan.”
The Broun laird’s attention skimmed over her and landed squarely on Alan. His back straightened a fraction and his eyes narrowed. Though brawny, height was not his and Tamas was clearly the sort of man who wished he were taller. Though he spoke to Stephen, his eyes stayed on Alan. “From the north, you say?”
Alan offered a wry grin and spoke with a decidedly altered accent. One more suited to the area. “Rumor has it my Ma was had by a giant in the night. Either that or a Northman. Jests all, I swear.”
Chuckles arose. Tamas nodded. “Aye, are you sure?”
More chuckles and a gracious nod from Alan seemed to appease the laird’s discomfort and he soon turned his attention back to Stephen. “Any guest of yours is a guest of the Broun’s. They will stay with you.”
“Much thanks,” Stephen said.
At last the woman by Tamas’s side spoke. “The men have been lost without you, Stephen.”
“And I them, m’lady,” he replied smoothly.
Tamas’s laugh sounded more like a bark. “No fear. Arianna kept the men in line as good as you would have.” His fond yet possessive eyes raked over her. “‘Tis a thing to watch her.”
Murmurs of appreciation came from the men but Arianna dismissed it all, her gaze never leaving Stephen. “But glad I am to have our warrior’s first in command returned to us safely. These laddies get restless when a mere lass shows them up day after day.”
All smiled. Some laughed. This was a woman who was well loved by her clan and by the looks of it, perhaps held more sway than even the chieftain. But then again, Arianna was the for
mer chieftain’s daughter, was she not?
“Show your people around. We will catch up later this eve,” Tamas said, his attention returned once more to his ax and target.
Stephen needed no further urging and promptly led them away but not before his gaze swept over Arianna. He said nothing as he led them past the castle down a path lined by cottages. Fires were burning and the pungent aroma of meats and fish mixed with brine and sea salt. It smelled of her childhood. While so much had changed, nothing had really changed at all.
“He broods, that one,” Alan said softly as they walked a few paces behind Stephen.
“Aye, so it seems.”
“I imagine you know the reason as well as I.”
Their eyes met. “Aye, my laird…Alan.”
“She is a bonnie lass but I wonder if she is worth it.”
Caitriona tried to show no reaction but it was difficult. Alan was a man who spoke his mind. But how to respond? “Any lass is worth it if she feels as strongly.”
The corner of Alan’s lip curled up and he looked down at her with mischievousness. “I dare say you have a bit o’ adventure in you yet, lassie.”
Her blush came naturally. More than you know.
When she didn’t respond he continued. “‘Tis a nice area here even if ‘tis lowlands. I envision you as a wee bairn running along this very path.”
If only she’d had that childhood. “‘Twas a beautiful place to be.”
“Yet I see no light in your eyes when you speak of it.”
“Nay, only weariness. ‘Tis been a long day.”
Their eyes once more met and she knew he saw her need to say the right thing. This was the part Adlin MacLomain warned her about. When one twin soul meets another in life they see everything clearly. Secrets are impossible to keep. The only thing working in her favor was that for Alan it was all speculative. He really had no way of knowing whether he was right or not about her thoughts and desires. Somewhat of a challenging notion considering he already had the confidence of a womanizer, the looks of a Viking god and the insight of a Scottish wizard.
“We will not be here long. His desire for her will cause trouble soon,” he murmured.
“Aye. ‘Tis why I am here.”
“Aye,” Alan agreed. “But we still do not know why I am.”
It took everything she had to keep her expression blank, to say nothing. For why he was here was becoming more and more of an impossible concept every moment that passed. Adlin MacLomain must be wrong about all of this.
As Caitriona walked she wished more and more that Adlin’s sister, Iosbail was here. She wished she could tell her everything now that she couldn’t tell her before. It was a terrible thing not being honest. But promises were made and must be kept.
“You think more than you speak,” Alan commented. “Makes me curious.”
Would they never get to Stephen’s cottage? Was it on the other side of the bloody North Sea? Caitriona shrugged. “I prefer contemplation and reflection. Mayhap ‘tis part of my new gift.”
“Mayhap,” Alan said. “Or mayhap you are practicing at being someone you are not.”
For a lad who seemed determined to respect she was a rare mystic, he certainly did persist. Before she could respond, Stephen finally stopped at a cottage right at the edge of the tree line and said, “This is my home. Please, come.”
Stephen opened the door and she entered first. Unlike the majority of cottages this one had two rooms. She suspected it was because he held a position of great importance. As first in command of a seafaring clan, their commander would have a larger abode on the sea directly in line with the castle. The second in command no doubt had one on the opposite side facing due west.
“We will sleep on cots in this room. You will have the privacy of the back room,” Stephen said.
Grateful, Caitriona said, “Thank you.”
“‘Tis the least I can do.” He nodded at a pile of furs in corner. “Though not as bad as the highlands, ‘tis cold here at this time of the year in the eve. Take all that you need. The Stewart and I will manage.”
Frown heavy on his brow, Alan eyed their surroundings. “Your lowland chieftains have an odd way of showing respect to their commanders.”
“Our lowland chieftains work with the land and put their best people around the borders.”
“Seems the best should be protected to lead the masses when the real battle comes.”
Stephen glanced at the door. “If my quarter’s dinnae please you, my laird, have at the sand and surf.”
His eyes went from Caitriona to Stephen. “I stay where she stays.”
“Aye.” Stephen winked. “But one room away.”
Ignoring the men, she walked into the other room. Though small, it held a cot and trunk. Above the cot was a wooden slat. She pushed it open and locked the brace. With a smile, she looked out. Stephen might not have much but he had a view. Rock and sand led to a shore she had long since forgotten. Frothing and bubbly, the North Sea sparkled and glittered beneath a low hung sun. Quiet at this hour, the water barely danced in the wind.
A sense of peace filled her.
It had been so long since she enjoyed the simple beauty of water, so long since she had last truly enjoyed anything at all. Yet as she sat there memories started to surface. Her Ma had been beautiful when she stood on this very shore, her long brown hair blowing in the wind. A survivor, her Ma had made her way in the clan against all odds. Imagine if she knew her daughter had once more returned even if in another century.
“What do you see when you look out there?”
Alan’s gentle voice startled her but Caitriona kept her gaze to the sea. “Something I dinnae see often.”
“Nor I. Let us go touch it while Stephen is off attending to business.”
When he took her hand she followed. Nothing ever seemed more natural than trailing this highlander out the door to walk down a shore of memories. Plumes of fire smoke billowed out to their left. Waves crashed against rocks somewhere far to their right. Yet as they walked on the sand, that old familiar joy washed over her.
Freedom.
This beach had always been hers, a place where all the bad things went away and Ma was truly happy. Her mother tried to hide her sadness and distress. For the most part she did well at it…especially when here.
Caitriona kicked off her shoes and never let go, not of Alan’s hand or thoughts of her Ma. It seemed wrong to do either. Alan had done the same, his bare feet pushing through the sand with the same appreciation. When it became slightly rockier he didn’t seem to care anymore than she. Instead of stopping to admire the view he promptly sat near the shore and pulled her down after him. Though she tried to land gracefully it was really more of a thump and she covered her mouth to keep something untoward from slipping out.
The moment her hand covered her mouth he pulled it away and shook his head with an all-too-charming grin. “This,” he gently squeezed her hand, “need not be hiding your mouth. And would you finally just let the thoughts in your head escape?”
If only, but mayhap some. She gave a small smile. “Did it not occur to you to ask me if I wanted to come out here with you? If I wanted to sit?”
“Aye, you know it did, lass. Did I not show you how much respect I have for you last eve?” Even though Alan appeared genuinely baffled he continued easily. “You are most rare and I do believe I have been sent along this journey to protect you. But know this, we willnae continue to play this game of you saying what you think I want to hear.” He tipped her chin so her face was directly in line with his. “And it will not be a game of me telling you what you want to hear. If I am to journey with you it will be with honesty from both of us.”
“Will it?” she murmured without thinking. His hand against the sensitive flesh of her chin and his dark eyes so close, their black rims sizzling with intent, made it nearly impossible to keep a line of thought.
Eyes suddenly lingering on her lips, it seemed he needed to pause a moment as well.
But he caught himself, his once more determined gaze focused on her eyes even as his thumb brushed gently up her cheekbone. “I need to know you better, Caitriona. I need to better ken the role the gods have laid for me.”
Nay, that was the last thing he needed to know. Yet for a split second, she almost felt he could see the truth in her eyes. No. It was not that at all. He searched, yearned…for something. She jerked back, startled. Why did she suddenly get the feeling that he hid as much about himself as he did about her?
“I am sorry, lass.” He shook his head.
She felt the loss of his hand on her skin as sharply as the sea lapping her feet and the wind blowing through her hair. What was this thing between them? The moment Caitriona learned of their connection and what she must do, she never looked back. Why would she? Adlin MacLomain said get them all north to the highlands and she would do that. When they arrived in the highlands it would be in the hands of God because Alan Stewart served a purpose.
His death would serve a purpose.
That’s why it was very important, despite their connection, to never let herself get too close.
Alan would, with her guidance, be dead by the end of their journey.
As if he heard her very thoughts he said, “This journey willnae end well if we are not true to one another.”
Perhaps it was because Caitriona was sitting on the beach where it all began or because she simply wanted to connect a wee bit she said, “Tell me about yourself, Alan. What makes a good person judge a warrior’s cottage as rudely as you did back there?”
Though his head whipped back slightly in response to the bluntness of her question, Alan didn’t let it faze him too long and a smile broke over his face. “Ah, there you are! Verra good.” He shrugged. “Like you, Stephen doesnae speak the whole truth. Aye, he might have been truthful about his reasons for bringing you here but there is more to his tale. Besides that, I dinnae particularly like that he stole you for his own purposes. Now I have to protect you!”
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