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

by Sydney Sloane

  Ian heaved the door back and moved down the corridor toward the hall. With Calum and Mo Daol following at his back, his voice filled with malice when he answered. “I do not know, but if he has laid one finger upon Caroline…he is a dead man.” Bridled anger filled his voice. When they entered into the cavernous hall, Ian turned toward Calum. “Gather a score of men and search the perimeter, the stable and all of the smaller outbuildings. Take Arrow with ye. Perhaps, if Caroline is hurt or can not speak, he will…”

  “Nay. Do not say it. We will find her, Ian. Of that, ye have my word.” Calum called. “Arrow! To me!”

  An obedient Arrow lumbered across the great hall eager to do his brother’s bidding. The giant deerhound came to sit on Calum’s right side. Before he left, Calum turned toward him. “Ian, my apologies for my outburst…I was upset. I seem to continuously overstep my boundaries at every turn where ye are concerned. I was not think…”

  “Nay. Ye were not” Ian shook his head. “Go. We will talk on this later after we have found my lass.”

  Calum nodded and left.

  Laird!” Ian turned toward the anxious sound of Delilah’s voice calling to him from the stairwell. The Fae woman’s voice was frantic, as she crossed the hall toward him.

  “What is it, Delilah?” He noticed the silver chain clutched in her fist. “What have ye found?”

  Delilah lifted her hand, and Ian took the necklace. Only a silver star pendant dangled at the very end. At its center was a rare Scottish sapphire “Where did ye come by it?”

  “I found it in yer chamber.” She blushed for entering his room without his permission. “My apologies, but I had a niggling that could not be ignored and returned. The sun from the window glinted upon it beneath your bed. It belongs to Diana.”

  Delilah pulled an identical necklace from her chemise. “Diana has a matching necklace. A rare treasure given to Diana and I at our births from our great, great grandmother MacKinnon.”

  “Yer sister, Diana? How could she have possibly made it into the keep without being seen? Moy has been under heavy guard, since Argyll’s approach.”

  “The tunnel.” Mo Daol piped in. “On the main level, but your grandfather sealed it off years ago when ye were a lad.”

  “Of course! I knew Grandda closed them off, but had not thought on them for some time.” He blew out a frustrated breath.

  Mo Daol added, “Would we have not noticed or heard someone digging beneath our very feet?”

  Ian shook his head. “Not if they were coming from outside. The tunnel should still be intact, and if done during a time when the great hall was booming with the voices of hungry highlanders, it would be enough to cover the sounds of digging or splintering planks.”

  Ian did not waste another second, as he retrieved a torch from an iron sconce near the spiral staircase that would lead him to the bowels of Moy. Delilah followed close behind him. Their hurried footsteps echoed up through the circular enclosure. Dampness clung in the air. The farther down they went the more slippery the stone steps became.

  “Hold the rope along the wall, lass. The stairs are slick with moss.” Ian called out over his shoulder as he continued his downward trek.

  As soon as the orange glow of the flame illuminated the dank space, Ian’s eyes went straight to where he remembered the passages opening. A stack of whisky barrels was stacked on the far northwest wall and concealed the entrance. Somehow, he already knew what he would find when he looked behind the wall of barrels.

  “Over there. Behind those crates and barrels.” Ian pointed with the torch toward the far wall opposite from where he and Delilah stood.

  Upon closer inspection, Ian saw the crude opening of the tunnel. “It would seem someone has been using this escape for some time.” Ian pointed to the planks of rotted wood splintered upon the uneven earth around the mouth of the tunnel. “I have not sought the tunnel since I was a lad, but it leads to a glen, not far from the stone circle.”

  Delilah exclaimed. “The key…ye gave her the key. She spoke with Mo Daol earlier. My sister took her to the stones. Diana covets the Tir Nam Famhair’s power above all else, and so long as she thinks she can get her hands on it…she will stop at nothing.”

  “Thinks?” Ian could feel the beads of sweat gathering upon his brow and swiped a hand over his forehead.

  Delilah continued to explain. “Aye. If the prophecy is true, and Caroline is the one we have awaited to save the MacLaine line…she will not go back. She cannot go back. Her destiny is here, though I am not sure if Caroline has yet to realize it to be so.”

  Ian handed the torch to Delilah. “Go! Tell my grandmother what we have found. I need to catch up to Calum. I pray I am in time to stop that black-hearted bitch, once and for all.” His building fury choked him.

  As Ian neared the exterior door that would lead to the bailey, his frustration pooled over, and he tossed crates and barrels onto the uneven earth of the basement until they splintered at his feet. His breath heaved, as the blood in his veins pumped white-hot anger throughout his body.

  Not wanting to waste time saddling his own horse, Ian ordered the first man he saw off his mount. He mounted swiftly, clenched a tight fist around the horse’s reins, and with a kick to the horse’s flank they were off. The heat of rage that flushed his body earlier was replaced by icy cold fear.

  Jesu, what have I done?

  Calum was right. He was a bloody idiot. When he found her…she was never leaving his side again.

  The familiar sound of Arrow’s bark sounded in the distance, as Ian neared the stone circle. Even as he crested the small knoll, he never slowed his horse’s pace until he was upon his men. Some of his guards remained upon their mounts, and others still scoured the outlying areas. One by one, his clansmen parted allowing him to move to the front of the fray.

  In a heartbeat, Ian was off his horse and running to her side. A glossy-eyed Damon Campbell’s lifeless eyes stared into the sky. A wound to single wound straight through his black heart. It was then Ian’s eyes fell upon her. Not even four feet away. The coppery scent of blood mingled with soil toyed with his senses and caused the hairs at the nape of his neck to lift. Ian’s mind and body went numb as Arrow hovered protectively by Caroline’s unconscious body and barred his teeth at any who dared to approach. All except for his brother, Calum who kneeled at her side.

  Nay!

  Once at her side, he dropped to his knees and gave no thought to the giant beast at Caroline’s side. A desperate madman’s scream rent the air and echoed off the distant hills, and he recognized it as his own. Ian lifted Caroline to his chest, rocking back and forth upon his knees and pressed his lips over her damp brow. Over and over, he repeated. “Nay. Nay. Do not leave me, lass.” Ian looked desperately to Calum. His vision blurred by the pooling of tears at the corner of his eyes. His brother reached out to him and caught him by the shoulders. “Ian, she lives…but has lost much blood. Ye must get her back to Moy. Delilah’s skill…if anyone can save her, the Fae girl can.”

  When Calum released his shoulders, his brother bent down and gingerly lifted Caroline from the ground. Ian mounted his horse and waited for Calum to hand Caroline into his trembling arms. His saffron tunic clung to his chest, as her fresh blood continued to seep through the left arm of her gown. A soft murmur past her lips and for the briefest of moments their eyes met. “I am sorry Mo Ghraidh. I know it pains ye.”

  Even in her weakened state, Caroline lifted a hand to his face. Ian closed his eyes, as he pressed his cheek to her palm, and she whispered. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t leave.”

  “There is no need for ye to apologize, lass. Rest. We will be home soon, and all will be well.”

  Ian’s heart shattered when Caroline’s head fell back, as her fingers went slack and slid off his cheek. Her breathing was shallow, as it caressed along his neck. She felt so cold…too cold.

  Turning his horse back toward Moy, Ian called over his shoulder through gritted teeth. “Find Diana and bring her to me.”r />
  With a quick glance down at Caroline’s pale face, Ian tightened his hold and kicked his horse into a steady run toward Moy.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  An ominous hush fell over the bailey, as thick billows of mist rolled off the loch. The MacLaine guards looked on as Ian reluctantly placed Caroline’s weakened and bloodied body into the arms of one of his guards. The heaving breaths of his mount filled the otherwise silent bailey. In a heartbeat, Ian was off the sweat-soaked beast and scooped Caroline back into his embrace. Her left eye was swollen shut and the area around it already started to turn a deep purple. Dried blood crusted where the skin split below her eye, and Ian could tell by the damage that a man had landed the heavy blow. The sight fanned his already simmering blood to a full boil. If Damon were not already, dead Ian would have drawn and quartered the bastard.

  The ashen color of Caroline’s skin forced Ian to take the steps two at a time. An unexpected gasp caused him to look up toward the top step of the tower house. Standing in the open doorway with a hand over her mouth stood, Mo Daol. She cast him a worried look as she took in the amount of blood covering the sleeve of Caroline’s left arm and now drenched his own tunic.

  Now more than ever, Ian needed Mo Daol’s words of comfort and wisdom. The ones that she used to guide him as young lad of twelve summers. It was his grandmother’s encouraging words and his grandfather’s mentoring that reigned in a young boy’s anger at losing his father and turned it into honor. Yet he stood here now before her a man full grown and sent her a silent plea to share even a few words of hope for the woman lying lifeless in his arms. What he would not give to hear his grandmother’s quintessential thoughts, assurances, but no words of reassurance were forthcoming. Tears welled in Mo Daol’s eyes, as the worried lines etched upon her face aged her right before Ian’s very eyes.

  Without delay, Ian swallowed the rising lump in his throat, before he spoke. “She has lost much blood.” Mo Daol nodded and stepped back and let him pass through the door into the cavernous great hall. A moan expelled from Caroline and then her head dropped limply over his arm. For the first time in his life, he was afraid. He picked up his pace, as he headed for the stairwell and shouted over his shoulder. “Send Delilah to my chamber at once!”

  Careful not to bring her any more discomfort, Ian laid Caroline’s limp body across the dark green counterpane of his bed. He pulled a dagger from his belt with one hand and grasped the neckline of Caroline’s blood soaked gown in the other. The approach of rushing footsteps echoed outside his chamber door but did not halt his actions. Delilah entered followed by Mo Daol. The sound of his grandmother screaming his name filled the room.

  “Ian!”

  With the dagger still hovering above Caroline’s chest, he caught the shocked look upon Mo Daol’s face. Without hesitating a second longer, he tore down the front of the light blue fabric. Carefully, he peeled back the linen of her chemise that now fused with her wound. Ian’s face contorted, as his eyes examined the deep gash. It started mid-way down the upper part of her arm and rounded behind to her elbow and forearm. He was filled with a murderous rage. Woman or not, when he got his hands on Diana, she would pay for her attempt on Caroline’s life.

  Even though it appeared the wound was clotting, Caroline was still in danger. There was still a risk for infection, and with the amount of her blood loss, she would be too weak to fight off a fever. He looked at Delilah, who rounded the opposite side of the bed and looked on. “You will save her

  “I will do my best, m’laird.”

  “Nay! Ye will do better. I will not lose her!” Tense lines etched across his brow.

  Delilah flinched at his words. “Aye, m’laird,” she said as she removed herbs and bandages from her basket.

  Mo Daol interrupted. “Ian. Let us give Delilah room to see to Caroline’s wound.” Ian shook his head. “I will not leave her. I will not let her go…I should never have asked her to go. Tis all my fault.”

  Mo Daol’s face lacked the surety that was normally present when she smiled, but her words were soothing nonetheless. “All will be fine.”

  The sound of Caroline crying out drew Ian’s attention back toward her tiny, blanched form. His knees weakened and his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, as her face twisted in agony. He brushed a hand across her forehead and felt the cold sweat upon her skin. “Hush, Mo Ghraidh. Delilah will make ye well again. I promise ye.” Gently, he placed his lips to her brow.

  Before Ian could bark out his order, Mo Daol pressed a dram of whisky into his hand. He nodded his appreciation, and then turned back to Caroline, who continued to fight Delilah’s ministrations. “Come, my lass.” He lifted her head with one hand and put the cup to her lips to guide the strong liquid to her mouth. “Ye must drink, Caroline. It will help with the pain.” Her eyes slowly fluttered open and met with his own. Even weak as she was…she was beautiful. Perfect. Too weak to respond, she sipped at the amber contents in the cup.

  Caroline turned her head and coughed. “Burns.” Her voice was hoarse, as she pushed the cup away.

  The healer raised her head. “M’laird, I have cleansed the wound, the best I could…but a bit of the uisge beatha would be advised.” When he hesitated, Delilah continued. “I know it will be painful, but it would be for the best.”

  Though it was necessary, he knew too well, how excruciating the pain would be. Unable to vocalize his acquiescence, Ian nodded.

  At Caroline’s side, Ian caressed her face and murmured words of encouragement. “Hush, Mo Ghraidh.” He pushed back a stray lock that fell over Caroline’s eyes. “Yer a highland lass now.” Ian’s eyes never left her face. The moment the fiery liquid touched the open wound. Her shrill cry rent through the chamber and caused his heart to seize. Ian was thankful unconsciousness claimed her again.

  Long after the sunset, Ian abandoned the stiff, wooden chair at Caroline’s bedside and slipped onto the bed bedside her. Delilah expertly stitched the wound and prepared a poultice to aid in healing. Delilah prepared a tincture to renew Caroline’s strength. The healer offered to sit with her, but he would not leave Caroline’s side. Could not. He lay holding her in his arms and spoke a silent prayer that the fever would not take her, and then sleep took him as well.

  Word had been sent to him earlier that Calum had not been able to locate Diana, if she knew what he intended for her, she would never show her face back at Moy or anywhere near his family again.

  A searing heat burned Ian’s bare chest and stirred him from his slumber. His heart racing, Ian leapt from the bed, opened his chamber door and tripped upon Arrow lying in the darkened corridor. “Jesu, Arrow!” Greer placed the healer in the chamber next to his own, in case Caroline needed her. His fist pounded upon the thick oak. “Delilah!” The click of a door latch turned him toward the opposite end of the hall and grandmother’s silhouette rushed toward him. “Ian?”

  “Mo Daol.” He rushed toward his grandmother. “Fever has set…”

  “I am right here, Laird.”

  Ian turned toward the healer’s voice and motioned for her to precede him into the chamber.

  At the foot of the bed, Calum’s beast of deerhound lay with head resting upon Caroline’s legs. He wanted to scold the hound, but could not. Arrow had fallen for Caroline’s charms, as did all of his clan. As he drew closer, the dog lifted his head and rose. “Nay, Arrow. Stay.” He scratched behind the beast’s ears until he lowered his head again.

  Mo Daol conversed in hushed tones with Delilah while she changed the bandage on Caroline’s wound. Ian returned to the discomfort of the chair by Caroline’s side. Staring at the dull light that peeked around edges of the sash at his window, he absently brushed his thumb back and forth over the back of Caroline’s hand. Forcing his eyes down, he met Caroline’s flush skin and parched lips. He placed a small amount of water in her mouth to hydrate her, and she swallowed instinctively. “Hold on, Mo Ghraidh. Be strong for me.”

  “Ian.” His grandmother spoke. “Yer exh
austed. Go and rest. Delilah and I see to the lass.”

  “Nay.” His eyes never left Caroline. “Tell me what to do…I will do it.” Mo Daol did not argue with him. No doubt, it would fall on deaf ears.

  “Laird, we need to cool her down.” The sound of the porcelain basin and ewer clinked, as Delilah placed it on the bedside stand.

  Ian released Caroline’s hand and took the cool cloth Delilah offered to him, and stroked it across her brow.

  “I’ve prepared a tincture of yarrow root. It will be her best chance to fight the fever and reduce infection. I have also added a bit to the water in the basin.”

  Ian nodded. “Thank ye.”

  His grandmother’s hand laid upon his back. “Would ye like me to stay with her?”

  “Nay. It is still early yet. I will wake ye if I need ye.”

  Delilah left, but Mo Daol stopped before him. “I know the time is not right, but Samhain comes at dusk. Though I do not feel up to celebrating myself, I will help Greer oversee the feast. Shall I have Calum see to the bonfires upon the surrounding hills and farms?”

  Samhain? With Caroline clinging to life, what was there to celebrate? It was all senseless to him, but for his clansmen it would invite an ill boding. Spirits of those gone before them would ride into their midst upon them by this eve, or so the tradition went. Without the fires lit or offerings of food and drink, they were all at risk. Highlanders…they are a superstitious lot. “Aye. Have Calum see to it.”

  The door closed and they were alone in the dim candle light, with the exception of Arrow who remained perched by Caroline’s feet.

  Ian replenished the cloth several times, as he tried to cool Caroline’s body. The water evaporated, quicker than he could sponge her body. Once assured Caroline had taken in enough of the tincture Delilah left, he slid beside her and gathered her into his arms. The warmth of her body concerned him and he sent a prayer heavenward that the fever would break.