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

by Sydney Sloane

“Calum must ye make things much more complicated than they need be?” She took an exasperated breath of her own and continued. “Like the book, Ian has been sent into another realm to retrieve the deed.” She gave his hand a comforting pat. “Try tae keep up. Ye know how I hate to repeat myself.”

  “God’s wounds!” he shouted as he stood and the chair he was sitting in teetered on its hind legs and then righted itself. All movement and conversations halted within the great hall at his outburst and turned in the direction of the dais.

  Through gritted teeth, his eyes bore into Delilah. “What manner of madness have ye filled her head with?”

  “Tis not madness she speaks, but the truth. If any of us is the fool here…” Anger mottled her face to a deep crimson. She paused as though she remembered her place. “It would be ye, m’lord.”

  She pushed back the heavy wooden chair, stood, and walked off as though she were of the nobility and not a mere healer. Astonishment at her audacity left him standing dumbfounded ….and intrigued. If the Fae woman thought they were through, she was mistaken.

  He was not even able to take a step in her direction, when the feel of his grandmother’s hand grasping his forearm halted him. “I will expect ye in my solar in a quarter of an hour. I will retrieve Delilah and ask her to join us, though I will not force her to endure your harsh treatment. Ye can deny the old ways of the Fae, but ye will see when Ian returns with the deed that Delilah is not just Moy’s healer. It has been her job for over a score to protect the MacLaine’s as it was her mother’s before her.”

  “Can ye not hear yourself? What ye speak of is witchery at its finest.” He rested his hands upon narrow hips.

  “Nay, it tis not. Ask anyone about and see if they have seen Ian this day, and they will all tell ye the same.” She stood and waved toward the men and women in front of them.

  He looked across the expanse and noticed, Seamus MacLeod first. If anyone knew Ian’s whereabouts, it t’would be Seamus. Calum shouted above the din and called for Moy’s captain. “Seamus! I would have a word with ye!”

  Calum waited for the imposing warrior to approach. When the man was within earshot, he asked. “Where is Ian? I did not see him in the list to train.”

  “I have not seen him myself. I assumed he had more pressing matters to attend to, especially now with this Argyll underfoot.”

  Mo Daol stood there bemused by Seamus’s response. Calum was near to losing his patience with her, instead his temper lashed out at Seamus. “How does the captain of the guard, not know the whereabouts of his own laird? Are ye not a bit concerned he has not been seen all morn?”

  The captain’s face flushed at the admonishment. “I did no’ think to…” Seamus responded by latching onto the hilt of his sword. “Do ye think something is amiss?”

  Did he think something was amiss? “Ye are not only Ian’s best friend, ye are the captain of his guard, Seamus! Tis your responsibility to protect your laird with yer life.” He ran a hand through his dark locks. “Gather some men and search the keep.”

  “Aye Calum.”

  He grit his teeth, as Seamus gave the orders to his men to locate Ian.

  Mo Daol shook her head. “Ye are wasting your time. They will not find him this day, and to deny the power of the Fae prolongs our plans.”

  “Plans? What plans do ye speak of?” He hissed out the words through gritted teeth.

  “Delilah has seen Argyll’s arrival a Moy’s gate. There is not much time.”

  “Jesu! Again with the Fae! Will ye not cease with this madness?”

  At his outburst, Mo Daol turned and sashayed toward the stairwell and called over her shoulder. “They will not find Ian, and I will see ye in my solar when ye are finished breaking your fast.”

  As he stood alone at the dais, all eyes in the great hall were still upon him. Some wore a look of question, and others awaited his command. “All is well. Please go back to your meal.” At his words, the movement began at a crawl, but soon the boisterous talk and chaos returned to normal. Now to find the two women who left him looking like a fool, Delilah proclaimed he was.

  Chapter Sixteen

  He ascended the spiraling staircase two steps at a time. During the early hours, just a few intermittent iron sconces lit the corridor. He raised a hand to knock on Mo Daol’s solar door, and the heavy iron-banded portal opened of its own volition before he could announce his presence. A cold chill raised the hair at the back of his neck. From the opening, he spied his grandmother across the room with her arms crossed over her chest. She did not turn as he stepped through, but continued to look out her window over the loch.

  The sound of the door sealed shut behind him and caused him to whirl around. Before him stood Delilah. The outrage she exuded earlier amplified as she lifted her chin in a show of strength, and forced herself to maintain eye contact. What he needed to do was stay far away from her. How could Ian allow the use of witchcraft on his property?

  It was about time someone in his family forced Mo Daol back to reality. Why his grandfather or his father indulged her for so long baffled him. He was a warrior, used to facing flesh and blood in battle. If Ian had gone missing, it was the result of treachery. He refused to believe it was due to the use of Fae magic.

  Without lifting her head from her embroidery, his grandmother spoke. “I willno’ sit here and argue with ye, Calum. Whether ye believe in Delilah’s powers or not, what I have told ye is the truth. Ian seeks the Tir Nam Famhair.”

  This is not how he intended to start out this discussion. He had already proven that losing control of his temper did not solve anything, and the evidence of that was still visible on Delilah’s face. When he looked back toward the large window, his grandmother stood and turned away. Glancing back and forth between the two women, he knew he needed to be careful with the words he used. With a deep sigh, he ran a hand down his face in mock surrender. “If I were to give credence to your conclusions that would mean Ian is retrieving the deed?”

  “Aye.” Came the single word from his grandmother.

  He turned to stare at Delilah awaiting her confirmation.

  “Aye.”

  “So ye are telling me a key made from the bones of our ancestors and his desire to retrieve the deed will solve all of Moy’s problems?” Each woman nodded at his question.

  “Once he has located the deed will he magically appear back here…at Moy?” He waved his hands erratically before him.

  When both women remained silent, he prompted them. “Well? Do I have the right of it?” By this time, Mo Daol had turned away from the large window and looked toward Delilah. The women eyed each other, as though they were deciding who should be the one to explain. Ian was missing, and time was something he did not have. “Delilah, since ye seem to be the one with all this so-called power, perhaps ye can explain to me…in warrior-minded terms, to be certain I am in complete understanding.

  “Of course, m’lord. The Tir Nam Famhair is but a mere portal. The portal will only open where the magic is strongest. In the laird’s case, he went to the stones. The bone-carved key that belonged to Mo Daol acts like a compass of sorts, and can only be accessed by the holder when a threat to the MacLaine line is in danger of being extinguished, but even then the portal will only open when the magic is strongest.”

  Doing his best to remain calm, Calum exhaled slowly. “And how will Ian access the portal in this…” He waved his hand toward the rafters. “other realm?” The women remained silent, so he assumed they no more knew the answer to his question, than he did. His ire was rising again, but he tamped it down enough to continue. “So when shall we expect my brother to return to Moy? Will it be before or after Argyll petitions the King of England to strip us of our title and lands?” His words dripped with skepticism.

  “There may be one way.”

  Calum and Mo Daol looked toward the bewitching Fae lass, but it was he that replied. “And what in pray tell would that be?”

  “The medallion. The one the laird has worn
since he was twelve summers. It was gifted to him from my grandmother.” Calum gave her an impatient wave his hand for her to continue. “It’s enchanted. If the legend of the Guardian is true, and I believe it to be, the Tir Nam Famhair should now lie in her hands. It is she that holds the other half of the medallion.”

  Calum’s ire was rising again. He could listen to no more nonsense. “In the interim, what shall we do about Argyll? Did ye think of that, Mo Daol, when ye sent him off into this unknown abyss?”

  “Nay, I thought that once he saved the lass and retrieved the deed…he would reappear.” Mo Daol took a sip of her ale.

  “Folly! Tis all folly and ye….” He pointed a finger in Delilah’s direction. “Yer talk of magic keys…do ye not realize what could become of ye if the wrong person heard such blasphemy? Do ye yearn to be burned upon a stake for such witchery?”

  “I am no’a witch, but half-Fae born and trained as a healer by my own mum! I seek only to help the clan.” She clenched her fist to her sides, as she made her declaration.

  The threat of witchcraft had his grandmother ranting. “Nay! Delilah is a member of this clan, always a friend. Unlike her sister, Diana, she does not seek to harm the MacLaine’s.”

  Ian made mention yesterday of the traitor, but failed to mention it was the Fae woman’s sister, Diana. How two sisters, let alone twins, could be so different in nature astonished him. He was about to inquire when a loud knock rattled the heavy door. The sound of the pitcher and bowl upon the dresser shook. A small yelp squeaked past the healer’s lips, startled by the abrupt intrusion.

  He growled at the disruption. “Who is it?”

  Through the door came the voice of the captain of Moy’s guard. “Tis Seamus.”

  Calum crossed the room and yanked open the door. “Have ye found Ian?” He did not miss the grave visage consuming the other warrior. “What has transpired? Ian?”

  Seamus shook his head before he spoke. “Nay we have not located the laird, but riders approach. I have my men in position…”

  “There is more? We lose time, Seamus! Speak!” His impatience grew with each passing second.

  “They carry the earl’s banner, and I can not find the laird anywhere.”

  Calum shook his head. “I will handle this. Take your positions and I will be down momentarily.”

  He shot his grandmother a skeptical look. Argyll was arriving as Delilah predicted, and he did not miss the smug look on her face.

  Things were fast becoming peculiar, but he was not ready to admit to defeat. “Well, it looks like we may have a battle on our hands. I may have been roaming the countryside selling my sword arm, but I am no sap to compromise on what rightfully belongs to the MacLaine’s.”

  His tiny grandmother stepped forward looking anything but gentle. “Ye leave Archie Campbell to me.”

  It would do him no good to argue with Mo Daol. There was a determination in her stance, as she made her way to greet their guest. If Argyll had been an ally, he might actually feel sorry for the man. Mo Daol would not go easy on him, despite his rank and riches. He made ready to follow his grandmother to the study, and remembered Delilah was still present.

  As instructed, Seamus escorted the Earl of Argyll, his nephew Damon, and two men-at-arms into the study. Tam took up his position by the door, and Ivor stood at the left corner of the desk as the group entered. As though he frequented Moy on a regular basis, Damon Campbell crossed the study toward the windows and helped himself to a dram of whisky. Cocky bastard.

  Tension filled the room, as Argyll stepped forward flanked by two Campbell warriors.

  “Welcome to Moy, your Grace.” His tone dripped with a mockery that did not go unnoticed.

  “My business is with your brother, MacLaine. I would see him at once.”

  Calum was about to retort when Mo Daol stepped out of the shadows and spoke from across the room. “The laird is not here, Archie. Whatever business ye have with Moy will either have tae wait until he returns, or ye can deal with me.” She closed the remainder of space with her head held high. She was the Lady of Moy.

  Argyll was quick to reply. “It is a complicated matter, best left for the men to handle.”

  “Was that a polite way of telling me women are too daft to understand politics, Archie?” The earl did not respond to her cutting remark. “Aye. So that is the way of it.” She walked around and stood next to her grandson, and the two MacLaine guards, their large forms emphasized her tiny stature. “Did ye think to come parading into Moy with your flags a’waving in all their splendor and throw your weight around?”

  Argyll’s mouth pulled into a tight, straight line. Aye, she pricked his ire.

  “My presence would not be necessary, Hettie if your grands…” He corrected himself. “The laird had come forth with the documents regarding…..”

  Before the earl could finish, she cut him off. “I am well aware of your claims, and they’re false. Ye know that as well, as I do.”

  “Then why does your grandson insist on withholding the deed. Unless….”

  “I know not what treachery ye are wielding, or why ye would covet Moy, but a highlander’s word is his honor. If Ian told your nephew the note was paid, it should be him issuing an apology to the MacLaine’s for the insult.”

  From the corner of her eye, she spied Argyll’s nephew throwing back another dram of whisky before he slithered over to join the discussion. With his approach, the stale stench of whisky and the filth of whores permeated the air. She did not miss Argyll’s nose twist in disgust.

  “Apologize? I will not apologize tae no one. I was here on official business for the earl, and your grandson did not cooperate. The whorse son.” His brogue thickened with his drunken condition.

  As soon as he issued the statement, the sound of boots shifted upon the floor filled the room. It was a warning to Argyll that her grandson and the men of Moy’s patience waned and did not take the insult to Ian lightly.

  “Damon! Shut. Up.” Argyll grounded out, as he motioned for his men to escort Damon out. “Ye will await me in the bailey with the rest of my men.” He dismissed his nephew with a single flick of his wrist, the guards followed behind leaving Argyll to deal with the MacLaine’s alone. “I will assume ye still abide by the old ways of Highland hospitality, so there is no need for me to fear for my well-being.” Delivering another blow to the MacLaine’s honor.

  “I would see the laird and the deed. Now.” The earl grew impatient, and she did not miss the underlying threat in his tone.

  She had given Argyll leeway to speak his intentions, but the man’s only intent was to mar the clans’ name. “Are ye quite finished, Archibald Campbell?” She looked over her shoulder at her grandson, and the two guards who were finding it hard pressed to control their rising tempers. Perhaps they thought she no longer held the upper hand with the earl.

  “No. I am not. The deed. I will see it now or…” She cut off his words.

  “Or what Archie? Ye will take up the issue with that so-called scoundrel, King Billy. Ye forget it was I that aided your mum when she birthed ye. Ye no more had the bollocks when ye were born, then ye do now to come up against the MacLaine’s and our allies.”

  A chorus of uncontrollable snorts and chortles came from Calum and the guards within the room. For a heartbeat, she thought perhaps she crossed the line with the blunt words, but only for a heartbeat. Argyll was a bully, and it was best he knew now, that Ian MacLaine would lead their clan no different from her husband, Hector. Even if it meant earning repercussions from the usurper, it was imperative those loyal to the Stuart king stand as one.

  Mottled with rage, Argyll rose from the settee causing the cacophony in the room to die down. “This is far from over, Hettie. I have William of Orange’s ear, and he will hear of Moy’s stance on this position.” Blotches of red stained his neck and cheeks, as he looked toward her grandson. “And I will see the Leslie’s at Dunnideer suffer the same fate, as your brother’s keep.”

  “Nay, Calum.
He pricks your ire with empty words, and he is not worth it.” She watched as Ivor and Seamus, the two guards at his sides restrained him.

  “Go your grace, before I forget my etiquette and say something I will regret.” With a polite smile that did not even reach her eyes, Argyll turned and head for the exit.

  Now back under control of his emotions, Calum motioned for the two Moy guards to follow him, as he escorted Argyll from the keep. Mo Daol’s attempt at diplomacy was not without its humor, but he knew as a warrior, Argyll’s threats were real. Not that he would have handled the situation any better. Ian may be the eldest, but by right of birth, Calum would be next in line for Moy. It was his duty to fill in as Laird of Moy. All he knew was Ian—wherever he was—had a disaster brewing when he returned. Surely, he would return.

  Despite it being late morning, several beeswax candles were alight in the enormous great hall. Moy was built to keep their enemies at bay, and windows were sparse throughout the keep. All was silent as the group passed through the great hall, with the exception of two guards sharing tales and bit of whisky.

  Moy’s captain, Seamus MacLeod, placed a hand on the latch of the thick double doors that would lead Argyll to bailey, when a woman’s cry broke the silence around them. In the far corner of the hall, Damon Campbell raised his hand ready to strike a resisting serving woman. He had been itching for a fight all morning and smiled. Before Argyll noticed his nephew, Calum motioned for Ivor and Seamus to continue without him.

  As he approached the pair, his blood ran cold at the sight of the copper tresses on the women in Damon’s grasp. Delilah.

  “Leave off, Campbell!” With his legs spread at shoulder width, he crossed his arms over his wide chest. The Fae lass was visibly upset, and to his relief unharmed. “Delilah, my grandmother requires yer assistance in the study.”

  Delilah stepped forward but halted when Damon grabbed her arm in a bruising clutch. “I was not finished with the lass. Go find yer own wench.” He turned his back to Calum.