The Beast of Clan Kincaid

by Lily Blackwood

  * * *

  Elspeth could not imagine a more powerful declaration of love than the words Niall had just spoken to her.

  “I swear to protect you, Elspeth, and honor you,” he said fervently, his gaze intense. His hands moved down to her arms, which he held tightly. “That means defending you, even from myself. Do not let this thing with Hugh, and the Alwyns make you lose hope for happiness. Your heart is good, and you deserve everything I cannot give you. You must be prepared to give your heart—your loyalty—to someone who can.”

  His words were a balm, soothing her fears and making her whole. The sincerity of his words and his fierce display of honor meant more to her than any touch or kiss ever could.

  “You are an honorable man,” she said. “The most honorable I have ever known.”

  He pulled her into his arms, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Would that I were a different honorable man. Elspeth, if I could, I would make you mine.”

  She pressed her face into his tunic, and inhaled his scent, wishing she could stay in his arms forever.

  Voices sounded outside the tent. He dropped his hands from her arms and turned, shielding her from any who might burst inside.

  “Sir,” called a servant softly. “I see that you have taken your lantern. Are you there, inside? We are searching for the Mistress MacClaren.”

  In the silent shadows, Niall lifted a hand and touched her cheek. She turned her face, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand. Covering his hand with her own, she squeezed, then gently lowered it away, knowing from this moment she must go on alone.

  “I am here,” she called, going to the tent opening, and pushing it aside. “Please summon Conall and Ennis, and tell them I must speak with them posthaste.”

  * * *

  Firstly, Elspeth saw that the still insensible Hugh was returned to his clan with a formally worded message that the Alwyn heir’s unwise attack on the MacClaren’s daughter had made any acceptance of his suit impossible.

  She then spent the next hour in private counsel with Conall and Ennis, eliminating suitors, narrowing down the list to those who could bolster the MacClaren forces with diplomatic connections and commandable armies of their own. Considering that any candidate would have to be made aware of the rising conflict with the Alwyn clan—and the potential of challenging the king’s justiciar, and thereby, the king—the list became even shorter.

  Before dawn, before the other clan camps began to stir, before the first tent had been brought down, Elspeth rode out of Wyfernloch in advance of the rest of the MacClaren traveling party, accompanied only by Conall, Ennis, Deargh—and Niall—her intent that no one realize until hours later that she had gone. This would at least delay the inevitable confrontation with the Alwyn, over his rejected suit—and his beaten and humiliated son.

  Unencumbered by a caravan of wagons, they covered ground quickly and arrived at Inverhaven just after nightfall.

  They rode into the gates of the castle, and were welcomed at the threshold by her father, with Bridget by his side—supporting him, as he leaned against the stones. In the few days they had been gone, the MacClaren appeared to have grown weaker and frailer.

  “Daughter,” his eyes widened. He touched her bruised cheek, his expression stricken. “What happened to you?”

  “Your face,” exclaimed Bridget, appearing genuinely horrified.

  “It is not as terrible as that,” Elspeth assured.

  “Much has happened,” said Conall, solemnly.

  “None of it good,” added Elspeth. “You received our missive?”

  “I did,” he answered. “I am tormented that I was not there to speak on your behalf.”

  “Your daughter represented our clan well,” said Ennis, looking at her in admiration. “She did not wither or retreat in the face of the Alwyn’s threats, but challenged him word for word. You would have been proud.”

  Elspeth kissed her father’s hand, and together she and Bridget helped him to his council room. Just before going inside, her eyes met Niall’s above her father’s head. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, providing silent encouragement, before he accompanied Deargh to the great hall.

  Turning to Conall, Elspeth said, “Summon the rest of the council.”

  He nodded, and quit the room to arrange for summons through servants. In his absence, Elspeth recounted to her father and Bridget all that had occurred, naming the suitors who had offered for her hand, and which might be the most powerful allies among them, in light of the new threat that had been issued from the Alwyn. It was then that Conall returned, and took his place among them.

  “Niall’s hundred have not yet arrived. Without them, are we strong enough to repel an outright attack?” demanded the MacClaren.

  Ennis’s gaze narrowed. “If there is an outright war between our clans? If there is no support given to the Alwyn by the justiciar or the king, I think we are closely matched. Once Niall’s force of one hundred arrives, I will feel more secure, but even that may be only a provisional solution. Can we afford to pay that many mercenaries and provision them for more than a few months? I do not know. Whatever occurs, any marriage must take place quickly, and our new power must be asserted to the utmost to show that we will not be threatened.”

  “Whom have you chosen, daughter?” the MacClaren asked, his eyes intent upon her. “Do not say Hugh. It will never be Hugh.”

  She walked several paces. “I will present my choice when all are gathered to hear and respond, and not before.”

  “Well done, Elspeth,” said Bridget admiringly.

  Elspeth could not help but notice that a certain peace seemed to have arisen between her father and stepmother. They even looked at each other with what she believed to be guarded affection … with Bridget doting on his every need, in a sincerer manner than before.

  Within the hour, the council was assembled. Some stood and some sat as Elspeth took the floor at their center, with Conall and Ennis flanking her on either side. Elpeth again repeated all that had occurred at the Cearcal, and shared not only the threat made against their clan by the Alwyn, but Hugh’s grievous assault on her person.

  When she was done, all faces reflected outrage.

  “This must not stand.”

  “This attack cannot go unanswered.”

  “We will not bow to their threats—”

  “What alternative is there?”

  Elspeth nodded, and spoke purposefully, in a voice of authority to men who had watched her grow up from a child.

  “The three of us, last night—Conall, Ennis, and I—devised a strategy that we believe will give us the strongest foothold should this conflict indeed become reality.”

  “Tell us of this strategy,” said her father from his chair, his eyes furious.

  At a nod from Elspeth, Conall stepped forward. “We propose something very similar to what the Alwyn demanded, that this council will name Elspeth, as the chief’s eldest daughter, to be his heir, his ceann-cinnidh—”

  “We have never had a woman chief—” interrupted one council member.

  “Yet it has been done,” retorted another, standing from his chair. “And done well.”

  Ennis interjected, “Elspeth proved herself a worthy match against the Alwyn. Conall and I witnessed it. Though we were both there, prepared to intercede, there was never a need. She handled herself well and good, and put him in his rightful place, which is why Hugh felt the need to force his suit by way of rape. Thank God he was not successful.”

  “Think hard on this,” urged Conall. “This plan keeps the interests of the MacClarens, in the heart and soul of a MacClaren. Married to the right man, she becomes as formidable as any chief.”

  “So you will marry,” her father asked.

  “I must,” answered Elspeth. “For the purpose of elevating our clan’s power and status.”

  Her father leveled his gaze upon her. “Of the candidates described, which have you chosen?” At his side, Bridget watched, riveted.

  Els
peth glanced to Conall and Ennis. Both of them nodded, again reaffirming their support of her choice.

  Though her heart raced, and she took a measured breath, knowing how important it was that she make her announcement calmly, and with confidence.

  “I intend to marry Niall.”

  “Niall?” repeated the MacClaren, his voice like thunder.

  Bridget’s eyes widened with shock.

  The room burst out in a jumble of questions and words.

  Elspeth raised her hand. “Be silent. Hear my reasoning.”

  All grew quiet.

  She walked along the circle formed by the council, looking into each of the men’s eyes as she passed. “You have all observed that Niall lives by a strict code of honor. There is no warrior more impressive, or more skilled than he. At the Cearcal, he inspired awe and amazement in all who gathered to watch the competitions. In the end, he was named champion by default because they could muster no more challengers willing to fight him.”

  “But a mercenary? A man with no people—no loyalties. Could he ever be loyal to us?”

  “No loyalties?” countered Elspeth. “That could not be further from the truth. He commands a force of more than a hundred skilled warriors who have sworn to follow him wherever he goes, and who at this very moment approach Inverhaven, awaiting his command to support us in our defense. By marriage to me, they would become our own.”

  All around, eyes widened, and Conall added, “He inspires loyalty even among our own MacClaren men. They look to him as a leader.”

  “Aye,” said a council member. “I have observed this to be true.”

  Conall said. “Ennis and I agree with her choice.” He turned to the MacClaren. “But not only that my lord. In addition to his qualities as a leader … Niall saved Elspeth from Hugh, before her virtue could be had. He has saved her life not one time, but three. Seeing that she is agreeable, should not her hand in marriage, and an invitation to be welcomed into this clan be his reward? His rightful prize?”

  Elspeth approached her father, going on her knees before him, and taking his hand in hers.

  “Niall has no home. Let this be his home. He has no people. Let the MacClarens be his people. He has no sworn loyalties. Let him be loyal to us … to me … I know he will make a good husband, father—and he would defend me and our home unto death.”

  He looked at her steadily, his eyes shining. “Three days ago you could not even abide his presence.”

  A smile spread on her lips. “I have changed my mind.”

  He looked out at the room, over her head. “Who so agrees, that Niall should be given my daughter’s hand in marriage?”

  “Aye, I agree,” came the answer, all around.

  “Aye.”

  “Aye.”

  “Does he know he is your choice?” the MacClaren asked.

  She shook her head, her heart doubling with joy inside her chest. “He does not.”

  To Conall, he said, “Go and get him. Bring him to me.”

  * * *

  “Niall, please come. The MacClaren and his council wish to speak with you.”

  “And Deargh?”

  “Nay, not yet,” Conall answered, with one raised hand. “Just you.”

  Niall stood and turned to Deargh, scowling. In a low voice he said, “If he intends for me to deliver Elspeth to her betrothed, I will refuse.”

  Deargh nodded, one eyebrow going up. “I understand why you would.”

  When he entered the room, he was met by silence and stares.

  “You summoned me,” he said.

  “Aye, that I did, Niall,” answered the MacClaren, his gaze intent. “There are some changes of which the council and I wished to inform you.”

  Changes. Yes—Elspeth would marry and soon be gone from here. Which is precisely what must occur. But why had they found it necessary to summon him? As a mercenary, he served his employer. Either they were going to ask him to escort her to her new husband—a task which he would soundly refuse. Or they were going to inform him they did not require his services anymore, which would not trouble him at all. He would almost prefer to separate himself from them before the final assault.

  Each smile someone bestowed upon him, each kind word—had begun to feel smothering and strange.

  “Go on,” he said.

  The MacClaren leaned forward in his chair. “You may not be aware, but I have for some time been pressed by this council to name an heir to the chieftaincy.”

  “I am aware.”

  He nodded. “After much difficult thought, with consideration to outside challenges—namely, threats made by the Alwyn…”

  “Yes.” Niall nodded.

  “It has been decided that I will name Elspeth my ceann-cinnidh.”

  Niall’s stomach dropped like a stone. Such a decision would keep Elspeth here, rather than take her away. Not only that, but any aggression toward her father would be an attack against Elspeth as well.

  Niall looked to Elspeth.

  Her gaze met his steadily.

  “Furthermore,” the laird continued, his voice husky. “Elspeth has chosen a husband. He is a man worthy of my support, and that of the entire council.”

  Niall suffered a flare of jealousy, and regret. He did not want to hear the name, although he supposed they would tell him, and he would have to pretend as if he felt nothing.

  “What does that have to do with me?” he asked.

  “Everything, Niall.” The laird smiled. “Elspeth has chosen you.”

  Chapter 20

  The MacClaren’s words echoed like cathedral bells inside his head. His blood went hot, and his skin warmed. He exhaled through his nose.

  The laird stood, holding on to the chair for support. “Will you, Niall, agree to marry Elspeth, my eldest daughter, future chief of this clan, and in doing so, swear to defend her and these MacClaren lands, even unto death?”

  Silence held the room.

  “As if they were my very own,” he answered solemnly. “Aye, even unto death.”

  “Very good. You must … consider yourself an orphan no more, but a son of this clan. I hope you have no opposition to being married tomorrow.”

  He looked at Elspeth, feeling as if his soul were on fire, feeling both triumph and pain.

  A wild, beautiful blush rose into her cheeks.

  “None at all,” he answered.

  The council members thronged around him then, offering support and congratulations, which he accepted with subdued thanks, before making his way to Elspeth, who had not moved from her place beside her father’s chair. She looked up at him, her eyes warm and aglow.

  She would not look at him like that if she realized the grave mistake she had made. She would know soon enough, and hate him more than she hated any Alwyn. More, even, than she hated Hugh.

  “Elspeth,” he said, reaching out his hand, into which she placed her own, without hesitation.

  Lifting her hand, he pressed a kiss to the backs of her fingers.

  “Until tomorrow then,” he said, his eyes burning into hers.

  “Until tomorrow,” she answered.

  Bridget came to stand beside Elspeth. “It looks as if I have a wedding to prepare for. And quickly.” She laughed. “At least it is not yet midnight. I must go and find the cook, who might otherwise complain at being awakened, but I know she will be more than pleased once she hears she will be preparing Elspeth’s wedding day feast.”

  She left them, making her way to the door.

  “Tell her I am sorry,” Elspeth called after her.

  “I will do no such thing,” Bridget replied over her shoulder, turning back. “I will cut cabbages and bake bread myself, to be certain we are ready and prepared.”

  She disappeared into the corridor.

  Conall appeared at Niall’s side. “As for the two of you, I know neither of you had any sleep last night. I suggest we all get some now, myself included.”

  The MacClaren rested a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, and looked at
Niall. “Your last night in bachelor’s quarters. Tomorrow you take residence here in the castle.”

  Again, Elspeth’s cheeks flushed, and this time, everyone noticed and laughed.

  Unsettled by their happiness, and knowing he would be the one to destroy it, Niall backed away. “Good night, then.”

  He departed the room. Deargh waited for him in the entry hall, his expression curious.

  “What has happened?” he questioned. “I heard shouting, but everyone seems very happy about something.”

  “Come with me,” Niall answered. “I will tell you.”

  When they were halfway across the bailey, Deargh blasted out with a curse. Seizing a hand over his mouth, he looked over his shoulder to be certain no one had overheard.

  “You’re going to marry her?”

  “I am, indeed. With the blessing of her father and the council.”

  “My god.” Deargh clenched a fist in the air. “I know you have come to care for her, and for that reason you did everything you could to send her away, but nothing could be better than this.”

  They entered Niall’s quarters, where a fire had been lit and a cold supper left for him.

  He paced for a moment, before again turning to Deargh. “You must go now and see if the men have arrived in our absence. If they have, tell them they must be ready tomorrow.”

  “I pray they have,” the warrior answered, excitement bright in his eyes.

  At the door, he turned back and stared at Niall, with a strange look on his face.

  “What is it?” asked Niall.

  His expression grew solemn. “I know this is everything we wanted, but I also know this won’t be easy for you.”

  Niall knew he referred to Elspeth, and his feelings for her.

  “My loyalties have not been swayed,” he replied calmly. “I am a Kincaid to my soul. Tomorrow, there will be no doubt of that.”

  “At long last.” Deargh nodded and left.

  Left alone, the silence rose up around him, along with the memory of his parents’ faces. His brothers. His loyalty had not been swayed. He remained as devoted to his cause, as he had been every moment and every day since he was a twelve-year-old boy, looking down at hands stained with his father’s blood. He felt such satisfaction, knowing at last he would have his revenge against the MacClaren and return his people to their home.