Chieftain's Rebel

by Frances Housden

  It was a moment of recognition that passed in an instant yet felt as if it lasted forever. Strange how he experienced a sense of loss as Jena walked off into the hall with the bairn still watching him o’er her shoulder. He couldnae say he had felt the slightest interest in his sister’s bairns, but his mother took pleasure in the appearance of a new one every year.

  For the first time, he saw Ainsel without the bairn in her arms blocking his view. The narrow size of her waist belied the curve of her hips and fullness of the breasts he had imagined the bairn suckling. His prick lay close to his belly, hard as a rock. There was naught perverse in the sensation riding low in his groin, merely interesting why its warmth spread all the way through him.

  “He’s a braw lad,” he said but was unprepared for Ainsel to take affront when he commented, “I gather he takes after yer late husband since both ye and yer brother are so fair.”

  Expressionless she said, “We dinnae talk of Axel’s father.” There was a look in her eyes that was indecipherable, a depth nae usually seen in such light blue eyes, as if he could swim in them. Swim through the tears welling up like diving into clear sunlit sea, knowing ye could see the floor but ne’er get close enough—deep enough—to touch the bottom.

  A moment later, she pushed back frae the board and hurried away in the direction Jena had taken with the bairn.

  Rory looked at Finn, needing an excuse to follow, but the reason twisting in his gut was likely to bring him more trouble than was advisable for a man accustomed a sight more canniness, so he settled for, “I’ve a strong notion I owe someone my regrets for being a big fat dunderhead.”

  Her brother leaned closer, his crossed arms resting on the board afore he glanced in Olaf’s direction. His voice rough, he spoke under his breath. “As she said, we dinnae talk about Nils, at least not in my sister’s hearing. Her man might be dead, however, the Irish don’t care for such a feeble excuse; they are determined to take their revenge and if not on him, then on us.”

  As if the emotion, roughening Finn’s voice was contagious, Rory responded in the same tone, “God’s teeth, how does she bear the burden of his actions? Does it sound terrible of me to say that for her sake I’m glad he is dead?”

  “For all our sakes. Nils took the Chieftain’s wife hostage—for what reason only the gods know. It’s my understanding they both drowned in a storm in the Irish sea. They found his boat wrecked, the pieces of it washed up on the shore but nae sign of him or the others with him. Aye, they looked, though none could have survived when the boat fell apart.”

  “Nae wonder she was angry with me. I should tell her I’m sorry,” he finished and immediately stood to follow after her, relieved that at last he could do so without his prick leading the way.

  Ainsel wanted to cry, but she had done enough of purging her anger through streams of hot tears. The agony was ne’er going to go away, ne’er leave her, for everything Nils touched turned to pain. Even now she could feel the ache growing inside her as if a stone had found its way into the place where her heart used to be.

  As she left the Great Hall, her steps staggered like a drunk’s, her vision blurred and, more through guid fortune than direction, she found herself outside at the far end of the longhouse where she could be alone. Axel would be all right for a little while, and when she got over feeling like one of the worn out boots Nils had kicked aside, as he had kicked her that night with a snarl on his lips, a sure indication that he blamed her for all his failures.

  Ainsel knew the fault wasnae in her, but she was close at hand, someone to punch or feel the toe of his boot—or rape her if he had a mind.

  She pressed her back against the wall, feeling as if she had arrived there through a vale of tears but could now acknowledge she was glad he was dead. She huffed out a sigh, the air shuddered betwixt her lips as if she had been running and her lungs were exhausted from holding the relief inside. There she had admitted it at last. “I’m glad he’s dead,” she said, needing to hear the words out loud.

  “I don’t blame ye.”

  Her heart turned o’er in her chest, not from fear but from the memory of that voice in her ear, moaning with pleasure in the wee hollow amongst the heather, as had she. Aye, she had known there had to be more to the act than degradation, pain and a wish for it to be done with—ended. She had found that with Rory, but dare nae admit it aloud, couldnae find the courage.

  With some reluctance she turned in the direction of his voice, unwilling to break this moment where the shadows threw the clean-cut cheekbones and chin she remembered into prominence with mere words.

  She could have recognised him anywhere by touch, but the sight of him was more than any lass deserved, had a right to hope for.

  According to Nils, he had been all she deserved in life.

  For a year she had believed that any thought of Rory could be naught but wishful thinking—dreaming. Yet a lass could dream; they couldnae take that away frae her. “I wanted to say I was sorry if I caused ye pain,” he told her.

  Pain, she almost laughed.

  Rory moved closer and she caught her breath as the earthy maleness of his scent filled the air around her, making her nostrils flare with remembered passion. “That … that’s fine. As a stranger how could ye know the shame I carry?” she excused him, then hated that it made her sound as if she blamed herself.

  “There’s nae shame in being taken in by a man, or a woman for that matter. Some folk are clever at hiding the true blackness at their hearts. Don’t take their guilt on yer own shoulders. Frae what Finn told me—”

  She caught her breath and he stopped speaking.

  “I’m making ye feel worse instead of better. I’ll say nae more.” He took her elbow and turned her to face him, away frae the log wall she had stopped to rest her back on. “Would ye like me to walk ye and the bairn back to yer broch?”

  “There’s nae need, I can manage. This is my home there’s naught to be frightened of.” Not now that Nils was dead.

  The deepening blue light behind Rory might shadow his face but didnae conceal the disbelief she saw in the slight lift of one brow. “Ach, I understand the Irish don’t scare ye as much as they do me. However, I’d find it easier to believe that ye forgive me if ye let me see ye both home safe to yer broch. It would ease my conscience after distressing ye.” He smiled at her, and she found herself thinking that if she had seen that smile while they made love in the heather, she would ne’er have gone back to Nils. Once ye have experienced a gift frae the gods it was foolish to settle for less.

  Her slight nod was surely signal enough not to reveal her true feelings. “I’ll just go through to the kitchens and fetch Axel,” she whispered as if what she had discovered might come roaring out without thought. And when she brought Axel out and he said, “I’ll carry him,” it was if her heart swelled for her bairn. If nae one else was aware that it was Axel’s father who carried him home through the deepening gloaming, she was.

  They walked slowly without speaking, Axel with his head resting against Rory’s shoulder when suddenly the air was full of a green shimmering light as if the gods danced in the sky above them. Surely it was a sign—for guid or evil she knew not, and cared less as she lifted her head to the heavens and walked side by side with the father of her bairn.

  Chapter 5

  The moment Gilda welcomed him into her heat, the thought that o’ercame Calder’s lust was why had he waited so long to come back to Caithness? Yet even that faded as the female heart of the woman taking his weight clenched around his cock. Gilda wasnae a woman to be tamed; nae she grabbed his arse and demanded more of him, harder, faster, and he didnae deny her—couldnae—since he felt like her willing slave.

  “Ach, Calder,” she groaned, “Ye have made me a happy lass. I’d begun to think last solstice was but a dream, but now I know Loki wasnae playing tricks on my memory.”

  Calder rolled onto his side, circled her in his arms and rested his chin atop her head without pulling out. He was well aware
it was dangerous, that he might get her with child, even so he found he couldnae bear to be separated frae Gilda. He wrapped her up even tighter in his warmth, feeling as if his heart might burst. “I thought the meal would ne’er end, that I would be deprived of this, of ye and me alone together making love. I could have pounded Rory into the ground with my fist when he went off and ne’er returned, leaving me to show Olaf the courtesy of at least listening to his stories about the auld days. I was completely ignorant that he and Gavyn Comlyn had shared a grand friendship and oft travelled the road we came last year until Caithness became part of Norway.”

  “I live here and had nae notion that yon had happened when I was a bairn. It’s simple to feel that we might have found each other afore this.” She twisted her neck slightly and looked up at the star-filled sky. “There are those can read the stars whau might say that it hadnae been our time until now. That our lives are shaped by the gods.”

  “Young Ghillie would be one such. He was insistent that I and Rory come back to Caithness. And I admit to being mightily grateful that the stars chose to bring us together again. I cannae imagine aught better than lying under yon same stars, holding the lass of my heart in my arms,” he told her, surprised that he had practically admitted he loved her. What else could this feeling be? The one that made his heart race by just thinking of her?

  “I too feel this was meant to be. Naebody will e’er mean as much to me as ye do.”

  Knowing her feelings matched his own was all it took to make his cock harden and grow where it remained inside her warmth, as if this was the be all and end all of life. Frae the sounds Gilda made in his ear there was nae question in his mind that the gods had brought them together. And as he moved inside her, climbing with her into the stars once again, he knew had ne’er felt so happy in this lifetime or any other.

  When Rory roused in the space that Olaf had allocated for their use at the far end of the longhouse, there was nae sign of either Calder or Ghillie. Not that he suspected Ghillie of having gone off with a lass, the way he felt certain Calder had done.

  Ghillie was a curious wee lad, into everything. At Dun Bhuird he spent as much time in the stillroom with Kathryn and Merida as he did on the training ground fighting with Calder and him. Ghillie wielded a sword with a type of finesse as experienced as it was unexpected.

  Nae, he was wrong to think it unexpected; both Nhaimeth Comlyn and Rob McArthur had learned their craft frae Euan McArthur. There was nae way Nhaimeth would let his son out in the world without being able to defend himself. When the lad finally came into his own, became a man in truth, his would be a name few would forget.

  Pushing up to his feet, Rory unwound himself frae the plaid that had kept him warm during the night and grabbed his shirt, dragging it o’er his head afore kilting his plaid in folds around his waist where he secured it with his belt. Time to break his fast. He was well aware he wouldnae be served porridge. Last visit he had eaten pickled herring most mornings, and he didnae expect this one would be any different.

  He strode into the Great Hall to the sound of Olaf’s booming voice, determined to ask the auld man’s pardon for disappearing frae supper prematurely, as long as he didnae expect him to explain why. Last night, his intention had been to move around the Great Hall, meet folk he remembered frae the year afore. And what had he done? He’d walked Ainsel to her broch through the darkening blue evening, carrying her son in his arms, without the slightest urge to return to the hall and the feast.

  Useless. Last solstice, Ainsel had been married. If she had gone into the heather with anyone it would have been her husband. Mayhap, that’s when her bairn had been conceived. It wasnae the kind of sum he’d ever had the need to consider. Instead of going back to the longhouse, he had retraced his steps, walking through rough grass edging the slope down to the beach then over the slope and into the heather.

  Was this the hollow where she had taken him?

  Poking out of the heather he discovered blaeberries and, bending down, he picked a few, well aware his tongue and lips might be blue when he finished eating, but whau was there to mind?

  Every moment he stood there, his mind was in another place, his heart in another time as he relived the moment of union—a blessed union. That’s how it stood out in his memory.

  He sucked in a deep breath as Olaf urged him to sit down and eat, reminding himself as he took a stool and fitted his legs beneath the high-board that he had a full day and a half afore the bonfire was lit. During that time he would endeavour to move among the folk that inhabited the settlement, listening for the lass he had made love with and stupidly left behind. Hopefully he would find her afore burning brands were thrown onto the bonfire and the Gathering truly began.

  For the first time since his birth, Axel slept through the night, a gift frae the gods but a bittersweet one since Ainsel herself took an age to fall asleep, her head full of Rory.

  Lying awake, she went o’er in her mind the night her bairn had been conceived, but couldnae bring herself to wish it hadnae happened. How could she bear to be without her son? The rest of the time she lay there contriving ways she could tell Rory the truth and see his delight when he found out he was a father. All very well, but in her mind she was unable capture his smile as the dream dissolved in a mist, much like that moment she first saw him arrive, hands on the reins of his big grey horse. The moment her heart had leapt, hoping he had returned to Caithness to find her.

  Soon, she realised it was Calder driving their return. For hadnae Calder immediately sought out Gilda, his eyes big with her reflection, seeking out Gilda, the way she had been imagining Rory might search for her.

  Thankfully, that dream was crushed as Gilda stumbled through the door, her hands folded and pressed in a knot against her breasts, eyes awash with tears. Pushing her own worries aside, she rushed across the room to reach Gilda. “What is it, what has that scoundrel done to ye? Let me at him, I’ll kill him with my bare hands if he’s hurt ye.”

  She opened her arms, let her cousin stepped into them and squeezed. Ainsel in return heard a thread of laughter in her voice saying, “Please don’t kill him for I’m sure I love him and he near enough said he loved me. Ach, Ainsel, I’m so happy.” Gilda let her go and knuckled her eyes with both fists. “These are tears of happiness.”

  Ainsel curved a hand around each of her cousin’s, pushing her away, taking in her expression. Gilda had always been a cheerful lassie, always seeing the best in folk, even Nils, but Ainsel could tell this was more. Gilda’s eyes brimmed with happiness and at that moment Ainsel changed her hold and pulled her cousin into a tight hug to express her delight. “If yer happy then so am I. As one who knows how hard happiness is to come by…” she let her words fade away.

  Gilda had been well aware Ainsel’s marriage had been less than perfect, that Nils had beaten her now and then, but had little notion how bad it had been. That was Ainsel’s secret, one she intended keeping.

  “Calder told me I’m the reason he returned, hoping all the while I hadnae found someone else, as if I could—so what if I flirted around the edges with other men—he’s been in my thoughts all year.”

  There, now Ainsel knew for sure. Rory had simply returned to the Ness to accompany his friend. He had wanted to help Calder find the lass he had fallen in love with during last year’s Gathering—naught to do with her or her dreams. She heaved a sigh of acceptance, loud even to her own ears. Fortunately just then Axel wakened—crying—giving Ainsel the excuse she needed to turn away frae her cousin.

  “He slept all night. I’ve never seen him so content, but he’ll be hungry now,” she said bending o’er the crib to pick him up.

  “He’s growing so fast, in a wee while he’ll be walking, then ye will spend yer days running after him. It’s a pity Nils isnae here to help ye with his son.”

  As if he would have bestirred himself to do aught to help anybody whau wasnae called Nils, a thought that made her lip curl. In the same mood she almost said, ‘I’ll have t
o rely on yer help instead’ afore she realised that Gilda was probably hoping she would be travelling back to Scotland with Calder. Ainsel would have to be daft to imagine Calder choosing to remain in Caithness.

  She had observed the friendship betwixt Calder and Rory. Of a certainty he would follow Rory home and take Gilda with him. In an attempt to ward off such unpleasant thoughts, Ainsel’s mind leapt in an unfortunate direction, saying, “I’ve come to the conclusion Axel’s missing a father’s touch. Why else would he sleep all night after Rory carried him home for me last night?”

  A father’s touch—that’s what Axel had experienced last night without either him or his father being aware what they were to one another.

  “Hah, if it’s a father he needs the solstice is a grand time to find him one,” Gilda announced, once again full of her usual bright cheer. Now that she had someone to love—someone who loved her—she was determined Ainsel would do the same: find a father for Axel.

  How could she reveal she had already found the perfect father for Axel—his own?

  The tragedy of it all was that neither of them would ever know.

  Chapter 6

  The sun glanced off the pale-gold beach, making Rory squint as he stared into the distant north, out past the Ness, as if expecting the Irish ships to cut through the waves toward the settlement. In truth, he made use of the sun’s hard strike to disguise his frown, hide the heaviness pulling his brows o’er his eyes as he listened to Calder’s news, “God’s teeth, what’s wrong with me? I must have been moon-shot, waiting a whole year to come back for her—she loves me, Rory. Did ye hear that? Gilda loves me!”