by Mary McCall
More of Hope's time had been spent with old Elda than Leonce had realized. Hope possessed a true gift for healing. He knew he had become fanciful, because just by a mere touch of her finger on a minor cut, he swore she took away the sting. And he wasn't the only one. Others she treated swore their pain mysteriously vanished. He built a room onto the back of the keep for distilling her potions and drying her herbs. An urgent summons always met with her prompt response no matter what occupied her. The fact that she received some appeals during certain activities that left them both frustrated at her leaving simply raised her already high worth in his eyes.
Leonce also made it a priority for Hope to spend part of every day in play with her friends. He warned her this time would decrease as winter approached, for it would be too cold for her to venture forth.
They visited the Frasers. Hope enjoyed seeing her friend and meeting the Fraser heir. The women exchanged promises to attend all of each other's births from that time onward.
Hope soon regained her flesh and blossomed into her former self. Every time Leonce glanced in the sky and saw Harry soar overhead, he would smile. The baron's bad omen was his sign of good fortune.
One morning, five weeks after his return, Hope skipped down the steps into the hall wearing her play garb. Her plaid-trimmed cornflower-blue gown was belted at the waist with braided plaid strips. Her whip and dirk were secured at her side, and her plaid was draped over her arm. Lust surged through his loins. He knew full well she wore not a single layer underneath.
When she saw him by the hearth, her smile widened. She joined him and placed a kiss on his cheek. Her feline trill tickled his ear, and she whispered, “Does my lion want to come play, or stay here doing cursed dour work?"
Leonce nipped her earlobe and kept his voice low so Aonghus, who stood beside him, wouldn't hear. “The lion must stay, or not finish the battlements afore winter halts the work. And he noticed during his morning cuddles that his lioness has some tender fruit. He's wondering if she's tender elsewhere from his rough play."
She swirled her tongue inside his sensitive ear canal and purred. “The lioness may be a wee bit tender from her lion's feast, but not overly so. If he finishes here and finds himself engorged, she would welcome him by the falls."
Leonce chuckled, stood up straight, and spoke at a normal volume. “And what games does my lady plan today?"
"I'm going to play run-flip-run, then twirl-soar-plunge-and-fall, then soar-plunge-and-splash.” Her voice sang with merriment.
Aonghus scratched the side of his head in a curious gesture. “What are these games about, lass?"
"The first is where Diable runs bloody fast while I'm standing, then I flip over onto my hands, and he keeps running while I'm upside down."
Leonce frowned.
"The next is where I twirl around as fast as I can with my head back while Harry flies in circles over me. When I start teetering, he plunges straight toward me, and I fall down dizzy."
Aonghus looked at her as if he thought her daft.
"'Tis fun. The last is where I go up on top of the falls with Harry on my shoulder. I spread my arms wide, and we both soar off the falls. I plunge into the water, but Harry swoops away. Then Diable splashes us with water, and we splash him back."
Leonce's scar throbbed. “You'll not play these games."
"You want me to wait until you can join me?” Hope asked.
"You'll not play them at all.” She had probably made up those games to scare him. Damn and hell, they were probably true, which made them worse.
"But, Leonce—"
He placed a finger over her mouth. “You may play run-run, but no standing and no flipping. Your second game with the twirl, I'll allow, but when you get to the falls, you'll only play splash."
She crossed her arms over her chest in a manner that displayed enticing cleavage. “Are you trying to spoil my games?"
Leonce kissed her sulky lips. “Nay. I am making sure you do not risk injury while I'm not around."
"Can I play them later if you come around?"
He raised a brow. “If I come around later, we'll be playing a bait game."
"Oh.” Hope tossed him a saucy grin. “Then I'll go mix up some war paint and grab a Fraser pig."
"You'll leave the Fraser pigs where they are.” He struggled for a mean expression.
She smiled innocently. “Why, Lion, without the pig whatever will I use for bait?"
He leaned down and whispered, “Do you not yet know the hot scent of his mate is all the bait needed to lure a lion?"
"Were that true,” she said brazenly, “I would not get out of the keep without being attacked."
Leonce threw back his head and laughed. “Go about your play, Hope. I'm sure to be prowling soon."
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Chapter Thirty-Six
* * * *
After a good gallop-and-twirl game, Hope mounted Diable and nudged him toward the path to the falls. She hadn't gone far when the muscles bunched in her neck. Halting Diable, she placed a hand on her dirk and scanned the area. A feeling came upon her that her stalker meant no harm.
"Who watches me?” she called.
No response came. Hope slipped from Diable and sent him ahead to the falls. She placed her hands on her hips. “I'll not leave until you show yourself."
"Angelaspera,” a voice answered from behind her, caressing her name over a gruffly whispered burr.
Hope turned around. A giant of a man, huskier and a few inches taller than Leonce, stood in the shadows of the trees. His face was difficult to make out, and she didn't recognize his plaid. He radiated strength and power, yet she knew in her soul that he wouldn't harm her. “Who are you that you know my name?"
"'Twas me who gave you your name, Angelaspera. I have spent almost half my life searching for you and your mother."
Hope took a step back as the man emerged from the shadows. Though streaked with silver, his hair was the color of golden honey. She gasped. He had the cursed bloody blue eyes of a Highland heathen. Hope knew why the king said she was a true Scot. “You are my..."
She shook her head as shock and anger overwhelmed her.
He nodded once. “Aye, I am your father. I—"
"Nay!” She turned tearful rage upon him. “You may have used my mother and sired me, but you have never been my father. I have none."
"Please, Angelaspera.” He held out his hands in supplication and took another step. “Let me tell you—"
"Nay!” She raised her arms to ward him off. “I do not wish to hear. And do not use my special name. Know you what my life has been? How my mother was tortured? Nothing you say can take away what we suffered.” Hope turned, intent upon leaving.
"My heart beat inside of Marcail,” he called after her. “Were it not for the hope of someday finding her and our child, I would have died."
Hope halted, and her shoulders slumped. Had he said anything else, she could have kept walking. But his words sounded so sincere and were so like her feelings for Leonce that she couldn't deny him his say. “Do you know how she died?"
"The MacDougall risked his neck and came to me with your memory. ‘Twas better vengeance than anything I did to him."
She dashed a hand at her tears. Could she believe him? “If you loved her, why did you not kill him?"
"He was the only one who could tell me where you were. He knew he was safe as long as I couldn't find you. When he first stole her away, he told me that he'd sold her to a Viking slaver. I've spent almost eleven years and gone halfway around the world looking for Marcail. Then I felt a part of me die.” His voice cracked. “I knew in my heart I would never see her again. When I came home, The MacDougall laughed and said she had never left the island. I spent the last eight years tearing up this island in search of you, not even knowing if I sought a son or a daughter."
Hope faced him, her hands fisted at her sides. “And why, I must wonder, would a great Highlander search for a bastard he has never seen?"
He placed a fist on each hip, and his voice took on a note of censure. “You're no bastard, Angelaspera. Marcail and I were wed—even had a priest."
Hope looked away from the stern warrior and raised a hand to her brow. Zounds! This could not be happening. She had a father who loved her mother and wanted to love her. “Did you marry again for children and an heir?"
"Nay. You have an older brother, Julien, from my first marriage. ‘Twas arranged by my father. My first wife was a good woman, but weak. She died soon after our son was born. Marcail...” His voice became wistful, and he gazed off as if he romanced her memory. “She was my soul mate. No other could come after her."
Zounds! She had a father and a brother! No wonder she never sensed belonging in England and the cursed baron hated her. She was a full-blooded Scot. Did this man think to take her away from Leonce? She eyed him guardedly. “So you came here after The MacDougall told you of me?"
"Nay. I heard you were happy, so I tried to stay away."
"Who told you that?"
"Julien passed through Fraser land and heard of the young woman with golden hair and sapphire eyes, who returned The MacPherson's great sword and son. He was curious and hid near the keep. Anyone seeing you and knowing Marcail would know she was your mother. Though Julien was only nine, he loved her and remembers her well. I heard stories of this young woman taming savages, healing the ill, felling boars and wolves and raiding on MacDougall. I suspected then you must be the gifted one of this generation. I tried to stay away to give you peace."
"What mean you by the gifted one?"
The warrior told Hope the legend of The Gift bestowed on his ancestor, Ri Tuaithe Kai. “So you see, I couldn't stay away. You are a blessing. Proof The Gift continues. And if ‘tis only for a few moments of a lifetime, I needed to know my daughter.” The big man seemed to wither. “But I will leave you. I'll not allow my presence to cause you sorrow."
Hope watched the defeated warrior turn away. Zounds! She couldn't let him go! “By what name should I have been called afore I came here?"
The man stopped without turning. “MacKay."
"You wear a chieftain's badge, MacKay.” She wiped her sleeve across her wet cheek.
"Aye."
"Despite this cursed feud, Lady MacPherson would have Chief MacKay know he has made her joyful. She is glad to be his daughter and not that of the cursed Norman. And if Chief MacKay is of a mind to linger, Lady MacPherson has a need to spend a few moments of her lifetime with her true father."
The MacKay turned and faced her with sapphire eyes full of pride and love. Hope met him halfway and found herself engulfed in the first fatherly embrace she had ever known.
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Chapter Thirty-Seven
* * * *
Rage burned in his gut. Leonce braced his stance as he gazed through his chamber window across the mountain toward the purple valley below. Never expecting this crime, he hadn't guarded against it. Bridling his temper seemed a Herculean feat.
While he was atop the battlements, Darach rushed up with the news that a MacKay plaid was sighted in the forest near the falls. Fear for Hope's safety drove Leonce. He raced toward the area with twelve men.
All twelve of them had to hold him back as he watched The MacKay pin his chieftain's badge over Hope's heart, then embrace her. His fury ignited into full-blown rage when The MacKay left and Hope stared after him with profound longing. Leonce was about to kill her and go after The MacKay when Aonghus pointed out that the lass was unharmed and The MacKay was leaving, so Leonce should let her explain.
But his wrath burned high and possessed a demon's name—jealousy. He billowed and nurtured the flames as he returned to the keep and went about his labors on the holding's defenses. When he spied Hope riding Diable across the meadow toward the path up the mountain, he adjourned to his chamber.
The time for confrontation was at hand. His wife would soon know the singe of his wrath.
* * * *
Hope wondered if her heart could hold all the joy and pain her father's revelations brought her. He was a proud man stripped of his greatest treasure. He had suffered much and would never again know the enchantment of Marcail's presence in his life. He told Hope that no other could fill the void in his heart, but meeting his daughter and finding her happy brought him relief. Now he could find peace in his soul and his quest could end.
As her father pinned his badge on her, he promised he would always help should she need him. She had only to send him the badge, and he would hasten to her aid. He cautioned her not to tell Leonce about him, for her husband might cast her aside—so long was the feud between their clans. ‘Twas so old, in fact, that when Hope questioned her father, she learned the war went back three generations, and he knew not the cause. She decided to ponder his advice before making a decision. She wanted to share her happiness with Leonce, and he had already kept her thinking she had blood from two other enemies.
She hurried down the path to the falls. After removing her belt and flinging off her gown, Hope jumped into the pool for a vigorous splash game with Diable and Harry. During the course of their play, Diable nudged her. She fell into the water laughing and came up splashing her beauty. He nudged her again, clipping her breast.
Arising from her latest dousing, Hope touched the lobe. ‘Twas tender fruit indeed and bloody swollen. She caught sight of her slightly rounded belly. She moved her other hand moved down, splaying it over the small mound as her mind raced. Why, she had not been cursed for almost three moons—not since the stitches were removed from her leg.
Zounds! She had to find Leonce. Without a doubt, come midwinter, the lion and lioness would have their first cub.
Hope flung her arms around Diable and kissed his cheek. “Come, my beauty, we must make haste, for I would find Leonce and share this joy."
Rushing out of the water, she donned her gown and grabbed her belt from the ground. Tossing her plaid across Diable's back, she leapt astride. They raced through the forest and across the meadow. Climbing the mountain, she waved to everyone she passed but stopped for no one. At the keep she bid Diable good-bye, rushed up the steps, and entered the hall on a bubble of happy laughter. Spotting Aonghus by the hearth, she beamed at him. “Aonghus, have you seen my chief?"
"Aye, lass, he is in your chamber."
She turned toward the stairs. “My thanks, Aonghus."
"Tread carefully, lass,” the elder warned. “The MacPherson is raging. He knows about The MacKay."
"'Twill be all right,” she called over her shoulder. “I have news that will tame his ire."
Hope dashed to their room and threw open the door. “Leonce, I have something joyous to tell you."
He stood by the window. She rushed to his side and placed a hand upon his arm. Leonce shrugged off her hand, inadvertently striking her mouth with the back of his wrist. She fell from the force of the blow and landed on the floor by the wall. Dampness trickled down her chin. She touched her tender lip and saw blood on her finger.
She raised a confused gaze. “Leonce, what happened that you—"
"I saw you with The MacKay!” The tic in his cheek pulsated wildly.
She winced at his harsh tone. “Aonghus said that, and—"
"You dare show me your face after being in that man's embrace!"
Her heart slammed. Her father had warned her Leonce would be angry, but he had accepted her before. He could bloody well accept The MacKay too. She thrust out her jaw. “Aye, and I'm glad you know. He said not to tell you because of the feud, but I wanted to share with you my joy at having him—"
Hope glanced up in time to see a huge fist launch toward her. She instinctively rolled out of harm's way.
Leonce caught himself at the last instant and slammed his fist into his other palm. His eyes raked her with disgust. “You bizzem! ‘Tis not as if you do not get enough mating from me! You must whore for my enemy!"
Hope scooted back on the floor and raised on shaky legs
. “You misunderstand, Leonce. The MacKay—"
"The one thing I never questioned was your loyalty. Does he mean so much that you wear his badge over your heart?"
Hope raised her hand to the badge. “He does mean something, Leonce. He has given me value, but he could never take my love from you. No one could. I thought you would understand."
"Understand!” He raised his hand again.
Hope cringed, finding herself trapped in a corner.
Leonce stilled and lowered his closed fist to his side. “I have promised never to beat you. I'll not break my word. But never again will I call you wife or give you pleasure from my touch. My heart shall no longer beat in yours. You will know me only as chief. I am going to kill The MacKay. When I return, I want your things removed to another chamber."
Leonce left. The door slammed behind him.
Hope stared at the closed portal. Chilly fingers gripped her heart. She knew ‘twas Leonce reaching inside and removing his love. She felt suffocated and didn't try to reclaim her own heart. She had given it forever and couldn't take it back, nor did she want it.
Zounds, but how could she live without a heart?
Her lips stung as salty tears trailed down her face. She glanced at the pink fluid seeping into her gown, forming a ringlet over her abdomen. Touching the spot, she remembered her news. Leonce hadn't reclaimed all he had given her. Another heart beat inside her, and this heart would sustain her. Aye, she would go on living without his love, for she would have his child.
She couldn't stay, though. His hatred wounded her in a way no beating from the baron ever had. She wouldn't survive, seeing him every day with such loathing in his heart. Where to go was a cursed problem. If she went to Cassie, The Fraser would send her back. The MacKays would never accept her if Leonce succeeded in killing their chieftain. She would have to turn back into a wild heathen. ‘Twas nothing else for her to do.
