“Duncan,” Cousin Niall inclined his head of close-cropped gray hair. “Have you gained that which you sought, or do you crawl back here a failure like your—”
Duncan tossed the sack of rubies onto the table. The grim satisfaction he felt when Niall beheld the treasure inside paled beside the grinding ache in his heart.
“Hmm.” Cousin Niall leaned back in his chair. Fingering his pointy chin, he regarded Duncan and his daughter as he might two bugs that had invaded his tidy bed. He had the face of a hawk, eyes as cold as a witch’s soul. “So, there’s to be a wedding?”
Duncan drew in a steadying breath, then exhaled. “Aye.” May God help us both.
Chapter Ten
The first winter storm struck on Christmas Eve day, but it didn’t deter the folk of Edin from bringing in the Yule log. Trailing snow, faces red from the cold, they paraded the log around the great hall to the raucous lilt of the pipes then placed it in the hearth with due ceremony.
Surrounded by her merry kin, Kara felt as close to happy as she got these days. The familiar sights, sounds and smells of the festive season were a balm to her aching heart. It had been a relief, actually, to turn her thoughts away from her private pain and attend to the myriad of tasks. She must carry on without Duncan. What choice did she have?
“The hall looks that grand,” Fergie commented.
Kara grinned, eyes sweeping from the garlands strung along the beams of the ceiling. Interwoven with the ivy were sprigs of holly to keep the fairies away, and sprays of yew decorated the center of every table. “That it does.”
“We’ve much to be thankful for.”
“Aye.” She hugged his waist, pleased by the strength of his lean muscles. “Most of all, I’m grateful you’re well.”
“Well, I’m glad the MacGorys are not about. If only...”
“Do not say it, Fergie,” she whispered. “Duncan would have come back ere now if he were free.”
“’Twould have been better if he’d never come.”
“If he hadn’t, the MacGorys would be living at Edin Tower.”
Fergie grunted. “That’s true enough, but—”
“None of that. We’ll not be ruining the best season of the year with useless regrets.” Kara whirled him about and gently shoved him toward a bench. “The lads are about to sing.”
When they were seated, the gillean Nollaig, the Christmas lads, chosen for their sweet voices, stepped forward. Clad in long white shirts of bleached wool, tall white hats on their heads, they began to chant the traditional songs.
They finished with the first song, and the leader bent to the cradle by the hearth and lifted out Brighde’s wee Donald Duncan, the babe chosen to play the part of the Cristean. Wrapping the little Christ in the skin of a male lamb, the lads carried him sunwise three times around the hall. As they went, the gillean sang the Christmas hail.
A shout rang from the ceiling as wee Donnie was returned to the cradle, and the tower folk rushed forward to lay small offerings around the Cristean. A crock of honey, tiny buns dotted with currants, a carved wooden horse and woolen booties. All the while, he cooed and waved his hands as though blessing them.
Cups were raised to the triumphs of the past year and prayers offered to thank the gods, both old and new. The feast that followed went on joyously all through the day. It stopped snowing at dusk, and the gillean marched out, followed by a goodly number of merrymakers, to visit the nearby crofts.
That first day set the tone for the week of festive celebrations. Kara was in the thick of things, overseeing the preparation of special meals, organizing games for the children. She danced till her feet hurt, smiled till her cheeks ached. But before she closed her eyes each night, she’d stare deep into the small fire in her corner hearth, seeking a vision that never came. Duncan must have wed his Janet, she reasoned, else he’d have come back to her as he promised.
Heartbroken, she’d bury her face in her pillow and cry herself to sleep. But there was no escape there, either, for she dreamed of Duncan. Rich, vivid dreams of their night together. Dreams so real she awoke sweaty, aroused and disappointed to find ’twas not his arms wrapped around her but the twisted bed linens.
By New Year’s Eve day, she was weary and hollow eyed. Still she joined the folk of Edin as they left the tower, bearing torches on eight-foot poles. Around the loch they paraded, in an ancient ceremony intended to drive out evil and insure prosperity. The sound of the pipes rose in the air, mixing with icy bits of snow. When the hourglass showed midnight had come, they piled up the torches, formed a circle around them and watched till the fire had died out before retiring to their beds.
Facing another dream-filled night, Kara volunteered to stay up and make certain the fire in the great hall did not go out. Likewise, candles would be kept burning in the windows to insure that evil would be kept from the tower in the coming year.
Eoin, Fergie and Black Roily sat with her for a time. She forgot her own sorrows as she listened to their tales of long ago, and even laughed when Fergie told about the Hogmanay he was chosen to play the part of the bull. Dressed in a hide, including the horns and hooves, he led the procession from croft to croft. At every farm, they climbed to the flat edge of the thatched roof and enacted their little drama.
Fergie shook his horns and bellowed; the other lads chanted and struck him with sticks to keep him under control, while the pipers played. The noise was horrific, but once the ritual was complete, the farmers would come out of their huts to pass around cakes and ale.
“We visited nigh every croft in the valley, so they tell us. By the time we reached the last one, we’d had so much ale we none of us were too nimble. Still we climbed onto the roof. Promptly lost our balance and fell backward. Right through the thatch, we went, and straight down into the hearth. They couldn’t get the stink of burned cowhide out of the place for a year.”
Everyone roared with laughter, and that tale blended into the next. But eventually, the others drifted off to seek their beds, leaving Kara alone with her thoughts.
She too found it easier to look backward than forward. As she stared into the sacred blaze of the Chulluinn fire, she searched over every moment she’d spent with Duncan. Nay, she did not regret loving him. In the flickering flames, she saw them dancing as they had Samhuinn eve, and the magic lifted her soul. Warmed by the fire and her memories, she drifted.
“Kara?”
She started, surprised to find Eoin standing over her. More surprised to find pale light glowing behind the oiled hides that covered the hall’s narrow windows. “The fire...”
“Still burns brightly,” he assured her. “I came to tell you we’ve had a signal. Riders sighted coming down the valley.”
Her heart lurched. “How many?”
“Three score, mayhap more.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped, then fear intruded. “Invaders?”
“Nay. The lads would have sounded the alarm if the pass had been attacked. The men ride slowly, openly, like invited guests.”
“Father Luthais, then, though he usually comes alone.”
“I thought ye’d like to wash the sleep from yer eyes and don a skirt that doesn’t look as though ye slept in it.”
Kara cuffed his arm and dashed upstairs. On her bed lay the deep green tunic and matching skirt she’d planned to wear for this most special of days. She donned them in a trice, mind leaping ahead to seeing Father Luthais again. He was dear little gnome of a man.
Back down the stairs she went, arriving breathless in the hall just as a knock sounded on the stout wooden door. The other folk of Edin dropped what they were doing and froze, waiting to see who would cross the threshold, for ’twas believed that the first foot to enter the hall was a portent for the coming year.
Fergie walked slowly to the door and opened it.
Snow swirled into the room, bringing with it the tang of clean, crisp air and a big man wrapped in a thick cloak. Its hood obscured his features, but he was too tall for Father Luthai
s.
“Damn, but ’tis cold,” exclaimed the man in a muffled voice. He shook like a dog shedding water, then flung aside the cloak.
“Duncan!” Kara cried. “It’s you.”
“Aye.” The red, chapped skin about his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “A bit frozen, but none the worse for—”
“Duncan!” Kara launched herself at him with such force she drove him back into the men who stood behind him.
“Easy, love.” He laughed and hugged her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. “You’ll bruise the gift I brought you.”
“You are all the gift I want.” She buried her face in the cold folds of his neck. “What of Janet?”
“Later. I’ll tell you all of it later.” He stroked her back, then set her on the ground. “First, I have to see to our men.”
“Our men?” Kara echoed. Looking behind him, she saw a throng of dark-clad men file into the room. “Who—?”
“MacLellans,” Duncan said proudly. “Eight and twenty stout lads come to see if life in Edin Valley will suit them. If you’ll give us leave to settle here, that is.”
“Us?” Kara repeated. “You mean, you’ve come to stay?”
“If you’ll have me,” he said with the first note of uncertainty she’d yet heard.
“If!” Kara’s mouth rounded. “Oh...”
“Course she will.” Fergie waded through the crowd of wide-eyed Gleanedins. “We’ll summon Father Luthais from Kindo—”
“I’m already here.” The wee priest stepped around two of Duncan’s clansmen and grinned at Kara. “I was that surprised when yon knight turned up at the church door yestereve. But when I heard what he wanted, I was only too happy to trek through the snow for the pleasure of seeing Kara wed.”
The wedding was held that afternoon, in the great hall decked with ivy, holly and mistletoe. It was a mix of pagan and Christian, as was only proper, Duncan had said, for the joining of a redheaded witch and a Crusader knight.
The bride wore a garland of holly and a tunic of finest wool in a brilliant gold that matched her eyes. A gift from her groom. He was resplendent in forest green and a smile so wide it put dimples in his cheeks. Father Luthais conducted the ceremony in the great hall, for there was no kirk.
“Come spring, we’ll build one,” Duncan said, raising a cup to toast his new-made wife.
“Hmm. Well...” Kara glanced uncertainly at the old ones, Morag and those who still kept to the ancient ways. “I don’t know.”
“’Twill be a joining of the old and new. A tribute to God for leading me here to you.” Duncan’s arm tightened around Kara, the fire in his eyes warming her clear to her toes. There’d been no chance for them to be alone together, but soon...
“An excellent idea,” Father Luthais said.
“I dunno,” Morag muttered.
“We could put it on the side of the hill,” Duncan said softly. “Leaving free the crest where the sacred fires burn at Beltane and Samhuinn. That way the people may have both.”
Morag sniffed. “Ye’re a right canny lad, fer an outlander.” Drawing her robe about her withered body, she limped off toward the hearth. “We’ll see, come spring,” she added.
“’Tis a sound idea,” Fergie said. Eyes twinkling, he glanced at the crowded trestle tables, where Duncan’s broad-shouldered MacLellans broke bread with the Gleanedins. “They’re a likely looking bunch.”
“Our lassies seem to think so,” Kara said, noting the women buzzing about them like flies to honey. “Come spring, we may be needing that kirk for a host of weddings.”
“And baptisms,” Father Luthais added. “Mayhap I’d best hang about for a fortnight or two...in case I’m needed.”
“Ye’re more than welcome.” Fergie threw an arm about the priest’s shoulders. “Come sample the mead.”
As the two men wandered off through the crowd, Kara felt Duncan tug her back toward the door.
“What?” she whispered.
“Come away with me.”
“But you’ve not had your supper.”
“I’m not hungry...for food.”
Suddenly, neither was she.
Hand in hand, they slipped from the hall and across the entryway to the stairwell. Barely had they gained the steps, when a shout warned their escape had been noted.
“Run,” Duncan cried.
Lifting her skirts, Kara dashed up the stairs with Duncan pounding after her. Propelled by the clatter of their pursuers, they reached the upper hall, hurtled down it and into Kara’s room. Duncan kicked the door shut behind them and shoved the bar into its bracket.
“Let us in.” The latch rattled.
“Not on your life,” Duncan called. “Take them downstairs and get them drunk, Fergie,” he added, laughing.
There were a few grumbles about being cheated of the bedding ceremony, but finally her uncle coaxed the crowd away.
Kara collapsed on the bed, laughing and gasping for air. “I thought sure they’d catch us.”
“Never.” Duncan sprawled beside her, his breathing ragged. “They had not half the incentive I have.”
She met his gaze, her senses ignited by the fire glowing there. Her heart skipped a beat, then slammed into the next. “I can scarcely believe you are here.”
“I’m real.” He took her hand and placed it over his own racing heart. “I’m here. I’m yours.”
“How? What of Janet?”
“Later...later I’ll tell you all, but I’ve hungered so long for this moment. If I don’t hold you, touch you, I’ll die.” He lowered his head and claimed her mouth.
She’d expected his kiss to mirror the savage hunger in his eyes, but he was gentle, coaxing, the trembling in his body the only hint of the forces warring inside him. “Duncan,” she whispered against his lips, then she turned aggressor.
Duncan groaned as Kara took control of the kiss. Their mouths mated in a prelude to the erotic joining to come. She tasted of sweet wine and a passion that tore at his control. One sip, and he was nearly mindless with desire. Slow. Dimly he realized he wanted to go slowly, make this moment special. Wrenching his lips from hers, he trailed them down her neck while his fingers worked the laces at the back of her gown.
“Aye.” She began tugging at his belt.
“Easy.” He caught her hands, kissed them, then laid them palm down on the coverlet. “I’ve waited weeks for this, and so have you. We’ll be taking our time...”
“Savoring each other?” she asked archly.
Duncan groaned, his good intentions nearly burned away by the flames dancing in her eyes. “Aye.”
And so they did, undressing each other by turns, pausing to kiss each bit of flesh unveiled. She moaned softly when he cupped her breasts, the nipples peaking at his touch. He took one in his mouth, making her arch off the bed as he suckled. They rolled together across the bed, legs twining, hands clutching.
“Duncan, please...I can wait no longer,” Kara gasped.
“Nor I.” He rose above her, parting her thighs with hands that shook. His gaze was steady, though, eyes locked on hers, dark with desire, shimmering with so much more. “I love you,” he murmured. “So very, very much.”
Kara tried to answer, but he drove into her, filling her, completing her. “Duncan!” she cried. Tears welled, blurring the face suspended over her. “I love you so.”
“Shh. No tears.” He gathered her against him and held her as though he’d never let her go. “I felt dead without you, and now...”
“’Tis like being reborn.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, her body tightening on his.
Duncan groaned, the floodgate of desire suddenly opening, sweeping him away. He thrust into her, glorying as she matched his rhythm. They made love with the fierce, driving urgency fueled by weeks of separation, weeks of fear they’d never be together again. ’Twas a celebration, a feast for the senses, for the heart and soul.
“Duncan. Oh, Duncan,” Kara sobbed as her love for him crested, sweeping through her, all heat and lig
ht. Dimly she was aware of him shouting her name, of his big body shuddering as he poured himself into her.
Gradually awareness returned. She was buried under his dead weight. Wonderful as it was, she couldn’t breathe. “Duncan?”
“Mmm.” He turned onto his side, yet kept her close, their bodies still blissfully joined, his face pillowed by her breasts.
“What of Janet?”
“Mmm. She’s taken the veil.”
“What? Tell me the whole of it.”
He raised his head and grinned. “’Tis amusing, really. Soon after I left on Crusade, Janet realized what she felt for me was brotherly love. Her heart belonged to Christ. Cousin Niall didn’t want her to take the veil, and used our pledge to keep her from the convent. When I showed up, he was nearly glad to see me. Janet and I spent a few days pretending we wanted to wed, each afraid to hurt the other. Sensing she was troubled, I pressed till she told me what was wrong. Imagine our delight to discover we neither of us wanted the other.” He laughed.
“Wretch. Why did you not come to me right away?”
“I had to settle things on the land I’d inherited from my sire. I’d left the small tower in the care of a cousin. I signed it over to him in exchange for the sheep and cattle we brought with us. There’s even some fine breeding stock to stud.”
“Is it the cattle, or the MacLellans you refer to?” Duncan laughed. “Just don’t be casting your golden eyes on any of the lads. You’re a married woman, now.”
“Aye.” She wriggled closer.
“When they heard I’d a valley of beautiful lasses all to myself, I had my pick of men. Those who came are strong fighters, second and third sons looking to make a place for themselves.”
“Judging by their reception, I don’t think they’ll have trouble finding wives and land.” Kara toyed with the hair on his chest. “Thank you for my gown. I only wish I had something to give you. But I didn’t know you were coming.”
The Knights of Christmas Page 10
