Kissed by the Laird (First Ladies of the Fae Book 1)

by Sydney Sloane

  Calum continued his approach and surmised him from atop his horse. The last thing Ian needed was for his brother to return home to Aberdeenshire, and tell their brother, Bran of all the trouble befalling him at Lochbuie. Feigning his normal edgy attitude, Ian paced in anticipation of the unavoidable confrontation with Mo Daol, and her book. It did not help that his now sharp-eyed brother, continued to assess his mood. Ian needed to remain steadfast and keep his well-intended family from interfering with Moy’s dilemma. As laird, it was his responsibility to shoulder alone.

  When Calum was less than fifteen feet away, he called out. “Ian!” His brother made an overt gesture with his hand and corrected himself with a smile. “I mean…..Laird.”

  Growing up with his brother’s antics made it difficult to keep a brooding appearance for the inhabitants of Moy. His brother had the ability to lighten the darkest of moods, much as he had for the entire year after his father was killed during a cattle raid. Much like Ian, his younger brother, Bran had taken over the title of Laird of Dunnideer at the age of eighteen, under his sickly uncle’s guidance. Lifting his head back to his brother, Ian could no longer fight the grin forming on his face. Calum’s good nature was infectious.

  “Ye could have given us fair warning of your arrival, brother. Greer will be furious when she finds out we have twenty plus extra men to feed at this evening’s meal.” He gave Calum a crooked smile.

  All around the keep there was a display of frenzy. No doubt, word of the new arrivals had already reached Greer’s ear. Preparations were well underway by Moy’s competent staff, even as he greeted his guest. Several lads made their way from the stables that stood behind the keep. Old Magnus, the stable master, poked his head around the corner when the commotion of the traveling party filled the courtyard. He would see their horses fed and brushed after the long journey.

  Calum swung a thick muscular thigh over his horse and embellished his dismount. “Aren’t we looking a wee grim?” Ian shook his head at his brother’s foolish behavior. “Ye are always over worrisome, Ian.”

  Ian ignored the remark, and turned to help his grandmother off her mount. The last thing he needed was to have his grandmother pummel him with questions. She must know of the missive regarding the Tir Nam Famhair by now. Even if the missive was for naught.

  The Fae woman assured him the book was safe. However, Ian was having a hard time coming to terms with all the magical nonsense she blathered on about. It was as if his grandmother had slipped into the girl’s form and vexed him once again with her whimsical tales.

  Either way, as things stood Ian needed to get the book. No book. No deed. Ian knew the questions from his grandmother would come, and he would have to explain in detail the chaos that ensued in her absence. Would she believe Delilah’s story of spells and vanishing objects? Once Mo Daol settled in, he would have plenty of time to explain.

  Trying his best to be a bit more lighthearted, Ian explained, “I am sorry Calum, Mo Daol. My mind was elsewhere, and you were no’ expected back for at least another month.”

  Ian put forth his hand to greet his brother with a proper handshake, but found himself grabbed up into a warm embrace. The quizzical look faded from his brother’s face and he found himself reciprocating the heartfelt greeting in return.

  Their last encounter was at the grievous occasion of his grandfather’s death. The time was not been well spent, and filled with mourning. There were no hunting trips, nor banter or trickery between Ian and his siblings. All his energy and his mum’s as well, revolved around Mo Daol’s well-being. The first few weeks were hard, but none could question the woman’s resilience. It was also the first time he’d seen normally whimsical grandmother, with her wits gathered. Aye, if should find a lass, such as Mo Daol, I will not give her the chance to leave my side. For all the grief she gave him over the years, there was none other like his outspoken, stubborn grandmother. In his eyes, the woman was fearless. His grandda was truly a fortunate man.

  When Ian turned around, he received an all-knowing look from his grandmother. Yet, there was no mention of his missive. Mo Daol’s uncanny ability to know when Ian was not being truthful or was withholding information caused his heart rate to escalate when she lifted an inquisitive brow.

  He expected her questioning to be immediate, but instead she scanned the bailey and the keep to ensure all remained the same in her absence. “I see someone has tended to my rose bush. It would be nice to have a few fresh ones in the great hall, would it not Ian?”

  He nodded and said. “I will see it done, Mo Daol.” That earned him another incredulous look.

  Call it a gift, but he recognized the meddlesome expression that formed on her face. It was time for him to redirect her attention from the harsh words forming in her mind.

  Ian whirled her around in his arms and said. “Ahhhh, Mo Daol! I didn’t expect ye for another month, but tis glad I am that ye are finally back.” He set the older woman back onto her feet, and gave her a once over and inquired. “The highland air has been good to ye. Ye have got a glow of health about ye.” His exuberance response for the woman who finished raising him was not over exaggerated.

  An awkward silence passed between the two, the expression on her face told Ian she saw through his jovial ploy. He knew by the skeptical look on her face, there would be an encounter between the two of them before the night was done. She could not possibly know what transpired in her absence. Nay. However, until she knew all was truly well she would not rest.

  “Do no’ try and sweet talk me, Ian MacLaine. Calum intercepted the missive ye sent to Dunnideer. Tis glad I am that I listened to my little voice.” She tapped a finger at her temple. “So Campbell is giving ye a bit of trouble. Have ye dealt with him proper?”

  She did not even wait for him to answer the question, but continued with her inquisition. “Nay, I suppose ye have not. The bloody Campbells! The buggers reproduce like a parasite on a hound.”

  Mo Daol patted his cheek as though all would be better soon then continued. “Do not worry. Your brother Calum is here for now, and no doubt the Campbell’s are trying to test your meddle.”

  Ian clenched his fist by his side and tension seized his shoulders at her lack of faith in his ability to handle his duties as laird. At five and twenty, he was young to lead a clan, but he fought and protected it with his life, alongside his grandfather since he was thirteen summers.

  Gritting his teeth, Ian could feel the veins at his temples pulse at the mere mention of the name Campbell. They needed to talk about the Tir Nam Famhair, but it could wait until all was settled. In his mind, the most important thing was the book was safe, for now. He had not laid his own eyes on it, but it would have to be enough to trust the Fae girl’s word. When the time was right, his heart would lead him back to the book. At Ian’s last thought, the jagged medallion that lay beneath his tunic began to warm. Ian placed a palm over his chest where the chain lay. As quickly as the sensation started, it halted.

  If Diana were a man, he would not have waited an entire night to place a rope around the conniving bitch’s neck. One look into Delilah’s face and he knew he couldn’t do it. Evil or not, Diana was all the family the healer had left. Och! Not even a year as laird and I am already as soft as newborn lamb. Ian kicked at the dirt at his feet.

  “Aye, that is the way of it Mo Daol, but there is no need for Bran or Calum to involve themselves into Moy’s troubles. Campbell is just a wee irritation, and I find myself anxious to knock him down a peg or two.”

  When she pierced him with one of her infamous glares that said he knew he was not being forthright. Ian swallowed. “I have all well in hand, and there is no reason fer ye to worry. Tis me Mo Daol, would I lie to the likes of ye knowing the consequences?” He released a nervous chuckle.

  Mo Daol stood there and examined him with a skeptical grimace. Ian’s lack of sleep over the last sennight invaded his eyes and was plain to see on his face. The threat of having Moy taken from the MacLaine’s was becoming more
difficult to hide, especially those who knew him well.

  In an effort to sway her attention away, he said. “I canno’ tell ye how pleased I am that you are back, Mo Daol. I have missed ye so much.”

  First, she pursed her lips at him and finally questioned. “Aye and why would ye be missing me more now, than any other time Ian? Tis not the first time I have gone to visit ye mum at Dunnideer. Has cook not kept ye well fed?”

  The smile upon her face faded when she looked up at his six foot, three inch frame, and saw the dark circles under the deep rich set of his brown eyes. “Ye, look tired lad.” Gripping Ian’s thick forearm, the older woman pulled the larger man down to meet her halfway and he complied with her prodding.

  Placing the back of her gnarled hand to the laird’s forehead, she proclaimed. “You are not with fever. Have ye been ill, Ian?”

  The scene his grandmother created in the bailey, as she cossetted him caused Calum to burst out in laughter, and the men from Dunnideer followed in his brother’s amusement. A hearty laugh filled the bailey and became infectious, when some of his own men joined in. Normally, Calum’s jesting would have been of no matter to him, but he was already near his breaking point. With his pride bruised, Ian glared back in Calum’s direction. His foul mood returned full force. Damn, Calum and his infernal jesting. He was laird here.

  With a brooding look upon his face, Ian started to take a step toward his older brother, with the intent to knock him on his arse. The arrival of one Moy Castle’s stable lads stopped him. Ian’s jaw clenched as Calum handed the mount over to the MacLeod lad, and turned back toward him with a grin still on his face.

  Ian stood stone-faced his arms across his chest and feet apart. He was not one to sit idle. He sparred daily in the list and was not afraid to put in a hard day of physical labor if need be. Besting Calum in the list to remind him who led the MacLaine clan would not be difficult. Without another word, Calum understood the message he sent when the other man’s smile widened.

  “Perhaps ye need a reminder of who is laird here now, Calum?” Ian did not flinch as he issued his younger, but much larger, brother the challenge, and continued to stand with his bulging arms across the bulk of his wide chest. The white fabric strained tight across his entire upper body, and the hem of his tunic neatly tucked around his trim waist within his plaid. He had issued the challenge, though that was not what he planned and he would not back down. Damn, him and his bloody temper. If he did, he would risk losing the respect of his men.

  He left Calum with no choice, but to accept. “Tis that so brother?” Ian, though tall, was three inches shorter than Calum. However, both of them were similar in strength.

  Stepping forward, the two brothers stood chest to chest as Ian said “Aye.” The dust in the courtyard kicked up, as the two brothers exchanged challenging looks.

  Before Ian could say another word, their grandmother stepped in the midst of the two giants and questioned. “What in the world is wrong with ye two?” Pushing against his brother’s chest, she ordered. “Ye’ll get yourself down to the loch and wash before ye sit in my hall.”

  Calum prepared to do as his grandmother bade, but not before, he flashed a brilliant smile in Ian’s direction. “I will see ye in the list come sunrise, runt.” Calum spun on his heel and turned toward the worn path that led to loch, as the sound of laughter faded around a copse of trees. The loch was only a stone’s throw away, but the area his brother headed to would allow for more privacy while they bathed.

  When Calum disappeared around the bend in the trail, she turned her attention back to Ian. “We need to…”

  Cutting off the older woman, Ian did not want her homecoming ruined with the mention of some magical nonsense tonight. “Nay, Mo Da…”

  He was not able even complete his sentence when his grandmother stood upon the tips of her toes, and placed a hand into his face to silence him. A look of shock must have registered upon his face, as the onlookers who were standing about when he issued his challenge to Calum, now quickly dispersed. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of his temper.

  His grandmother’s voice was curt, as she poked a finger into his broad chest. Ian dropped the subject and complied. “Ye canno’ put off the inevitable Ian. We shall talk soon, but not tonight.” Picking up the hem of her skirts the vexing woman walked off, and spoke over her shoulder in his direction. “Ye look as ragged as an old rug that needs a beating. Eat, get some sleep, and we will speak in the morning.” With those words, she headed toward Moy’s gray stoned keep and disappeared through the thick wooden door.

  Silence filled the air, as Ian stood in the bailey with an incredulous look upon his face. Within minutes of his grandmother arriving home, he had issued a challenge to his younger brother and was a reprimanded in front of a bailey full of clansmen by a sprite of an old woman. When the shock faded, a dark visage came over him that could intimidate a legion of warriors. The servants disappeared to avoid his wrath. Every one of them…except Fergus MacLaine. Ian wondered if the older man was addle-pated. Not many would approach the imposing Laird of Lochbuie.

  In his younger days, the older man was a dangerous warrior. Ian still depended on the older man for his sage advice of battle and the knowledge of Moy. He had also been a good friend to his grandfather, Hector. The old warrior was feeble, and Ian needed to deal patiently with the well-respected clansman.

  Standing beside Ian, the older man chuckled. “That Hettie seems to be getting feistier with age. Well, I suppose she has the right, since she’s the ripe old age of…” The older man stared absently over the horizon, as though he was trying to regain his train of thought, and a moment later, he continued. “Aye, that’s right 190 years old.” Without uttering another word, the old warrior headed toward the castle, and knew he could find Fergus later in his favored chair before the great hall hearth enjoying its warmth.

  Ian could not understand the older man’s ill-placed humor. He half listened to the older man’s blunder. The only thing on his mind was the umbrage his grandmother took at the expense of his reputation… Did Fergus just say 190 years old! Was the man going utterly daft?

  Chapter Five

  Ian heard Calum’s hearty laugh even before laying eyes upon him. “It does my heart good to see ye so anxious to have your arse beat, brother.” Calum taunted him. His brother’s boastful remarks caused a few low sniggers from the men of Dunnideer, men that had accompanied his brother to the list. All of Calum’s men came into the list wearing their Leslie tartans with pride. If his brother came out victorious this day…and that was a huge if, their revelry would be obnoxious.

  A playful smile pulled at the corner of Ian’s mouth, as he leaned upon his sword. “No man can best me with a sword…not even ye.” His own men and few of the clansmen wore the MacLaine colors to support their laird. Most hurried to break their fast, and arrived early to see the brothers’ spar in the list. At his boast, a low hush fell over the crowd.

  Ian ignored the voices that rose in the crowd, as he continued to speak to Calum. “There is one man that has a right to boast of such a feat and that is grandda. Ian’s last comment oozed confidence. “First blood?” The rise of shocked whispers came from the gathering crowd.

  Smaller children were sitting upon the stonewalls that enclosed the list and others congregated in a large circle around them. In the not too far distance, he could see the kitchen lasses as they gathered water from the well, and others went about their duties with no interest in the spectacle that was about to begin in the list.

  Calum smirked. “Aye” Just to open Ian’s wounded pride from yesterday the man added. “And when yer bleeding I’ll let Mo Daol know, so she may take care of her precious baby laird.”

  While Calum laughed at his own humor, he slapped the back of a middle-aged man from Dunnideer.

  Calum’s remarks pricked and Ian went on the offense first with a powerful, unexpected downward arc. Calum stumbled back onto one knee, but was able to block Ian’s attack with his swor
d. Their swords locked and his brother’s eyes widened.

  Giving a grimace, as the strong jolt strained the muscles of his upper arms Calum gritted out. “Is coming at a man before calling a start to the duel a trick ye learned from grandda, Ian?” With a counter-thrust attack, Calum put him on the on the defense.

  Ian didn’t answer, but kept up the fast pace tempo, as he parried, to the thrust of Calum’s weapon. Intermittent cheers filled the list. Neither man gave in, and no blood was drawn. The noon sun shone high in the sky, as the men continued. Their sweat soaked tunics came off, earlier in the duel. Though Calum was strong, it was easy to see Ian’s earlier boast held true. It encouraged him more and more to see Calum on the defensive, as he parried one blow after another with his large broadsword.

  Though Ian was exhausted, he knew he held the upper hand in this match. Unfortunately, Calum knew this too and used his best weapon, his size. One minute Ian gulped for air, and his brother took the advantage and drove a shoulder low into Ian’s gut. Whatever air he had inhaled rushed out when Calum plunged at his mid-section and robbed the air from his lungs. Both men landed onto the dirt of the list. Ian’s lips pulled back and barred his teeth. Using his strong legs, he kicked back and sent Calum careening to the ground a few feet away. Both men were quick to come to their feet, each taking deep breaths, as their eyes bore into one another. An unspoken challenged was issued and accepted in their glares. Ian threw his sword to the side, and landed a blow to Calum’s jaw before he had a chance to go on the defensive.

  Blood poured from his brother’s lip and over his teeth as he smiled back at Ian.

  Calum flicked his tongue over the split at the corner of his mouth, as he continued to grin. “Yield.” His brother tossed his sword to the ground and bent at the waist to catch his breath.

  Letting his guard down was Ian’s first mistake. While Ian gulped in large breaths of air, Calum came out of nowhere and drove his shoulder into Ian’s gut sending them both to the ground again.