by Laura Landon
Iain raked his fingers through his hair and looked up, his gaze falling on her. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Good day, milady,” he said, holding out his hand to her. She walked across the rushes to meet him.
“Post double the men to guard our borders,” Iain said to Roderick in dismissal. “We must avoid trouble at all cost.”
“Very good,” Roderick answered, nodding in acquiescence. He graced her with an open smile. “Good day to you, milady,” he said, walking toward the door with Donald and Lochlan behind him.
“Roderick,” Iain hollered just before his brother left the room.
“Aye.”
“Where is your MacAlister brooch? Why are you na wearing it?”
Roderick clamped his hand over his shoulder and looked down at the plain metal ornament pinning his MacAlister plaid. “I lost it. It happened while you were gone.”
Iain removed the pin from his plaid and handed it to Roderick. “Go to Henry and have him make you one to match mine. I know it will na have the same meaning as the one Father gave you, but you canna go without the MacAlister symbol. It is your heritage.”
Roderick took the brooch from Iain’s hand and smiled. “I have missed wearing it. I will make sure he copies your brooch exactly.”
Rodrick turned to the door and Donald and Lochlan followed him out of the room. “Have you seen your home, milady?” Iain asked when they were alone.
“Most of it, aye.” She studied his face. The deep blue of his eyes lacked the luster she was used to seeing. His sun-bronzed complexion seemed pale.
“And are you pleased?”
“I could na dream of a home more perfect.” She looked at him closer. “Is something wrong, Iain? Do you feel a’right?”
He twined his fingers through hers and held her hand. “I am fine. Do na worry. Is there more you would like to see?”
“It can wait until tomorrow. I would rather be with you.”
“I am glad. I need you to walk with me.”
“Where do you need to go?”
“I must visit the families of the four warriors who were with me the day I went to get you. Their families need to know their murderers will na go unpunished.”
“Do you know who attacked you?”
“Not yet. But I will. I have already sent Charles and Dunlaf to where it happened. They are both cunning warriors and vowed they would na come back until they had some information that would lead us to the traitors.”
“Traitors?”
“Aye. I am convinced the attack was intentional. Thieves would have taken the pouch of coins I carried and my MacAlister brooch. But both were still on me when you found me. Whoever is responsible wanted the MacAlister laird dead.”
“Perhaps it was my father,” she said, looking down at the rushes on the floor.
“Nay. The land he would get from our marriage was too important to him. He would not have risked losing it before the wedding.”
She nodded in agreement then followed when he looped her arm through his. She walked with him out into the warm, late spring sunshine, still wishing her gift did not give her such obvious warnings when Roderick was near.
“How have you come to be without Kenneth at your side?” he asked, looking around as if he needed to make sure they were alone.
He placed his arms around her shoulder and she tried to ignore the warmth that spread through her body. “He left me when I came to the keep to see you. Perhaps he has a misplaced notion that I do na need protection when I am with you.”
He halted. “Why would he think you needed protection among the MacAlisters, even if I were na close? Does he na think you are safe here?”
The serious look on his face caused the words to lodge in her throat.
“Did your father order him to protect you?”
Such a thought made her laugh. “Nay. Kenneth is not a MacBride, but a Buchanan. My mother’s laird sent him to watch over my mother while she lived, and he stayed after her death.”
“To protect you?”
She hesitated. Nay. To protect the gift. “To…be with me.”
“And he feels he must stay even though you are my wife and I have promised to protect you?”
His brows raised in question as he waited for her to answer. How could she explain Kenneth’s vow to protect the gift? How could she expect her husband to understand that it was impossible for Kenneth to leave until he was sure she would not be in danger if Iain ever found out about the gift? “I…I—”
“Oh, milady. Take care!” An excited voice echoed between the curtain walls, crying out a desperate warning. “Robin! Nay!”
The warning came too late. A force as solid as a small boulder slammed against the back of her legs, throwing her forward. Her legs buckled beneath her and her arms flailed in the air, but there was nothing solid onto which to grasp. Luckily Iain was there to catch her before she fell to the ground.
Màiri clung to Iain’s shirt and looked down to see the cause of the near disaster. Sprawled at her feet lay the most adorable little lad on which she’d ever laid eyes. He could not have been more than four summers, with thick curly hair the color of sun-ripened wheat and more freckles splattered across his nose and rosy-red cheeks than she thought it was possible to put there.
He lifted his smudged face and stared at her with a rounded O of his tiny mouth and wide-open gaze of sky blue eyes as big as the cook’s honeyed-buns she’d eaten this morning. The startled expression on his darling face tugged at her heart. She moved to pick him up, but Iain held her steady.
With one arm around her shoulder and his other arm anchored at her waist, Iain braced his legs wide and stood as battle-ready as if he faced an army of mighty warriors instead of one tiny little boy. “Roby MacAlister,” he bellowed in the fiercest voice she’d ever heard him use. “Is that you in the dirt at my feet?”
Màiri punched Iain in the ribs, trying to get him to soften his tone.
“Aye, milord,” a little voice answered timidly. “I’m the only one that looks like me.”
Màiri wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. Behind the little boy, a woman, obviously his mother, stood with her hands clamped over her mouth and a look of terror on her face.
“What were you doing that you nearly trampled us over?” Iain demanded in his harsh tone.
Roby scrambled to his feet and pointed one little pudgy finger in the air. “I was chasing a butterfly, laird. An’ I almost had him.”
The pleased look on Roby’s face indicated such a near-wonderful accomplishment that it nearly melted her heart. Oh, what she wouldn’t have given to have chased butterflies when she was growing up.
“Do you know who you ran into?” Iain said, his tone still loud and harsh.
Roby glanced at Màiri for the first time. Before, only the laird claimed his attention. She imagined that to a very small little boy, his laird seemed a most impressive giant.
“Are you the laird’s new lady?”
“Aye, I am,” Màiri answered.
Roby shuffled his feet for a moment, then looked her in the eyes. “You’re pretty.”
“Thank you, Roby,” she said, feeling her cheeks turn warm.
“My mom and dad are both real glad you’re here. I heard ’em say so.”
“Robin, mind your tongue,” his mother warned, taking his hand and pulling him up against her. “Now, apologize to the mistress this very minute and tell her you will be more careful from now on.”
“I’m sorry, mistress. I didn’t mean to run into you like that. I should a been watching more closer, but you got in my way.”
“I’m so very sorry,” Màiri apologized through a giggle, while Roby’s mother shook her head behind her hands. Iain’s chest rumbled beside her and Màiri knew it was too late for him to pretend he was angry. “If I would have known you were behind me, I would most certainly have moved,” she said as sincerely as she could through her laughter.
A smile lit his face as if he was more than happy to accept h
er apology.
“Do you have any little boys I can play with?” he asked hopefully.
“Robin,” his mother warned.
Iain could no longer hide his humor and laughed loud enough so she could hear. She punched him in the ribs again. “Nay.”
“But you will, someday?”
“Perhaps,” she answered, her cheeks growing warmer.
“Tomorrow?”
“You’ve said more than enough, Robin,” his mother said taking him by the hand. “It’s time we went home. Tell the mistress good day.”
“Good day, mistress. I’m real glad I met you.”
“It was very nice to meet you, too,” she said, holding out her hand. He took it, not bothering to wipe the dust from his fingers before he held her hand. Something warm burst within her and she knelt down and gave the little boy a big hug. “I hope you find your butterfly,” she whispered, tousling his blond hair.
“I will. Maybe tomorrow.”
“I’m so sorry, mistress,” Roby’s mother said, holding her son’s hand.
“It’s all right, uh. . .”
“Magda. My name’s Magda.”
“It’s all right, Magda. There was no harm done.”
The woman nodded in thanks and turned away. They had only taken a few steps before Roby turned back. “Are you mad at me, mistress?” he asked, looking at her with such an innocent expression.
Màiri smiled. “Nay. I’m na mad.”
“My mother is,” he said in a loud whisper. “She only calls me Robin when she’s mad at me.”
Roby’s mother shook her head and took him away with a firm hand and a warning tone to her voice while Iain laughed out loud. “You have my young lads falling at your feet already, wife. I think it may be wise to keep a better watch over you.”
Màiri smiled and stepped closer into Iain’s warm body. Yes, life here could be perfect.
“Was na little Roby adorable?” she said on a sigh.
“Aye. As adorable as the sons you will give me some day.”
A permanent smile lit her face as they walked through the outer bailey and over the wooden drawbridge.
Yes, life here would be perfect.
Iain’s hand rested possessively over her shoulder as they walked down the lane that led to the cottage of the first slain warrior’s family he would visit. She could tell how much he dreaded this part of his duty as laird and she relished it no more than he.
As they went from one grieving family to the next, she noticed the signs of sadness that darkened his eyes and lines that deepened on his forehead. She breathed a sigh of relief when they ended their final visit.
“I should na have taken you with me,” he said as they walked away from the last cottage. “I should na have put you through such unpleasantness.”
She nestled his hand in both of hers and held it to her breast. “My place is at your side, Iain. For the good as well as the bad. There is na other place where I should be.”
Iain stopped and lifted her chin with his finger, then leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips. “I think we should rest a bit before going back,” he said, leading her across a meadow turning lush and green with heather and clover, then through a small copse of thick shade trees.
“I would like that,” she said, listening to the faint bubbling of a small stream.
“I know just the place where we can be alone.”
When they reached a secluded spot near the stream, Iain took her in his arms and pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her until she could not breathe. Then he lowered her to the ground and made slow, deliberate love to her while the earth moved beneath them and the heavens spun above,
Yes. Life here was perfect.
Chapter 12
Màiri didn’t even try to wipe the smile of contentment from her face as she skipped down the stone steps on her way to the great hall. It had been a month and more since she’d wed the MacAlister laird, and she’d never been happier.
Every day was better than the one before. She saw to the running of her home, planned the meals, oversaw the making of the candles and the soap and mead and ale. She helped with the planting of the garden, sewed alongside the MacAlister women as they made clothes for their laird, then worked with them on the tapestries that would adorn the walls of the hall.
In the evening when the work was done, she would sit at Iain’s side and listen while the older warriors told tales of MacAlister glory. She listened with pride as they told of Iain’s victories and his father’s before him. Nowhere was the love and respect the MacAlisters had for their laird more evident than here.
When the hour turned late and the candles burned low, she climbed the stairs to wait for Iain to join her. Such was there routine. Each day turned more wondrous than the day before and each night more perfect. She thought of the night she’d spent making love and her cheeks blazed scarlet. Her skin turned hot just remembering the magic of Iain’s hands caressing her body and the fire of his naked flesh pressed against her.
She sighed. For the first time ever she was accepted without reservation and included as if she had always been one of them. She never dreamed life could be like this.
Without a care, she stepped through the arched opening at the top of the stairs leading to the great hall and stopped. Iain had just handed down a decision concerning a dispute between two MacAlisters, and from the look on the one man’s face when he stormed past her, he was not pleased.
“What is happening, Donald?” Iain asked when the two men had left the room. “This is the third dispute amongst our warriors in less than a week. And last week there were four. It’s as if there is a plan to intentionally cause dissension among us.”
Donald stepped away from the wall and uncrossed his arms from over his chest. “I have noticed the same.”
“Do you know who is behind the unrest?”
Donald shook his head. “Not that I can say with any certainty.”
“I don’t like it.” Iain braced his hand against the stones next to the long window that overlooked the practice area. “It’s easy to know what to do when your attackers come at you from the outside. There are thick stone walls and high buffeting fortresses to protect you from danger. It’s not so easy when the attackers come from within. Both your back and front are exposed to them and you are na sure which side they will attack first.”
Donald stepped forward. “I will keep a close watch. When I am sure, I will say so.”
Iain shook his head, his shoulders rigid with the weight of the trouble he could not understand. “The ground does na feel so secure beneath my feet, Donald. I fear a skirmish with the Cochrans is not the only trouble facing us.”
“I pray you are wrong,” Donald said wiping his hand across his bearded face. “The Cochrans could na do near the devastation as our own can do from within.”
“Perhaps Roderick will have news when he returns,” Iain said. “I am confident his efforts will na go for naught.”
With a curt nod, Donald left the hall, nodding as he passed her.
Iain stood with his back to her and when she stepped on the rushes to go to him, he turned. A warm smile slowly spread across his face and the look in his eyes was the same familiar gleam he’d had often of late. She loved that look.
“Does milady have a problem she needs to bring to her laird?”
She made her way across the long hall and stepped up on the dais next to him. “Aye, milord. A most grievous problem indeed. I have heard the MacAlister laird is the wisest man in all of Scotland, so I have come to seek his sage council and advice.”
Iain did not even try to hide the playful grin from his face as he sat down in his chair, striking the most regal pose possible. “Such a flattering compliment. What is your concern, milady?”
“It is my husband.”
He lifted his thick brows to a high arch. “You have a problem with your husband?”
Màiri frowned. “Oh, aye, milord. A most serious problem. He has caused me much distress of
late and each day his inconsideration worsens.”
“How so, milady?”
“I have come to enjoy his company far too much of late and I miss him sorely each time he leaves me. It is most unkind of him to cause me such grief. Don’t you agree?”
His deep laughter echoed in her ears as he reached forward to grasp one of her hands. “Most unkind, milady.” He pulled her toward him. “As your laird, I feel duty bound to do all in my power to ease your distress.”
In one swift movement, he pulled her onto his lap and clamped his arms around her. She barely had time to take a breath before he covered her mouth with his own. He kissed her hard, then kissed her again. When he skimmed her lips with his tongue, she clamped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to admit him.
His kisses stole the breath from her while his hands roamed over her flesh, touching her and holding her and caressing her until her whole body burned as if she was on fire. She arched forward, pressing into the hand cupping her breast. A loud moan escaped from the back of her throat and she threaded her fingers through his hair and held him close.
“How touching,” a low voice rumbled from across the room. “It’s comforting to know my laird and his bride are so well suited to each other.”
She jumped with a start, and Iain lifted his mouth from her, but he held her tight when she tried to bolt from his arms. She wanted to die of embarrassment, but Iain looked at his brother and laughed.
“You could have given us a few more uninterrupted moments before barging in, Roderick,” Iain said, exposing the grin that wouldn’t leave his face.
“From the looks of it, laird, a few more moments and it is hard to say how much longer I would have had to give you. I did na want to wait that long. You forget, I have been gone what seems forever and am anxious to wash the dirt from my skin and sleep on something softer than hard Scottish soil.”
Màiri hastily straightened her clothing then pushed herself away from Iain’s muscled chest. She had every intent of fleeing to her chambers to escape Roderick’s evaluative look, but Iain whispered softly in her ear that he wished her to stay. With a reluctant nod, she rose from his lap and sat in the chair beside him.
