by Kara Griffin
“What of the Imbolc festival? Will we still meet with Sutherland and Mackay to discuss our alliance? The matter is important.” Clive asked.
Callum took a sip of ale and set his cup before him. “I was getting to that. We will have the festival as planned. When Sutherland and Mackay arrive, we’ll meet with them to discuss the treaty. Unless either of them rejects our reaffirm, we will maintain our alliances.”
Ian grumbled. “Sutherland is all right, but I trust not the Mackays. Since they are aligned though, I suppose we have no choice but to parlay with them both. Best keep an eye on the Mackays since they might take sides with the Mackenzies. I heard Sidheag Mackenzie recently visited Simon Mackay. Something is going on betwixt them.”
Callum pressed his eyes. He needed to tell his uncles about the Mackays. “Even if the Mackays and Mackenzies align, Grady would have nothing to do with it. He exiled himself years ago and hasn’t returned. There’s bad blood between him and his father. Still, we should take precautions to make sure the Mackays don’t befriend the Mackenzies. Sidheag is a warlord who means business.”
Ian grumbled. “We’ve done nothing to incite his action against us. Let us keep it that way.”
He didn’t hold the Mackays in esteem either since there were reports that Grady’s father wanted to join his clan to Mackenzies through marriage. The situation was troublesome because if Simon forced Grady to marry a lass in the Mackenzie’s clan, he would then be aligned with their most hated enemy. But Grady was his good comrade, and until he spoke with him, he wouldn’t distrust he’d side with their enemy.
Besides, the Sutherlands wouldn’t stand for an alliance, unless they included the Mackays, or at least involved Grady. Yet they had kept a truce between the two clans, and Keith’s aunt was friendly with Grady’s father. Not in a romantic way, but their friendship went back years. Marriages aligned his comrade’s clans, and Callum thought perhaps such was needed to make certain his neighbors didn’t go against him. Time would tell whether he needed to be concerned about such matters. Marriage often soothed troubled alliances.
“I agree, and I will discuss it with Keith when he comes. That is all for now.” Callum waited for his uncles and Clive to leave, and called out to Lockie. “Will you wait for a moment? I want to ask you something…”
Lockie turned on his heel and danced across the floor. When he reached him, he bowed with a grin. “Aye, my fair and just laird?”
“Mor tells me you saw Gavin brawl with someone on the night he was killed. Tell me about it. What do you remember?” Callum motioned for him to sit because the man would make him daft with his lively movements.
Lockie shook his head and wouldn’t sit. Instead, he shuffled from foot to foot. “There’s not much to say. I was on a walk-about like I usually do at night. It was late. My eyes don’t see as good in the dark.”
“And?” Callum reminded himself to have patience. His uncle imbibed and usually wasn’t coherent by suppertime. He suspected Lockie wasn’t all there when it came to memory, and hell, his sight was no better. The man was aloof in all his dealings.
“And I heard the swords. The clangs were loud. Aye, it sounded as if the demons fought. I tried to find them in the dark to see who was fighting… I enjoy a good spectacle.”
“But you didn’t, and only found Gavin when he’d already been slain?”
“Nay, I couldn’t find them in the dark. By the time I reached Gavin, he was dead. His foe slunk away in the night, but he wore a dark cloak. I remember that. Might have been the devil himself,” Lockie said and hunched his shoulders, “probably after the demon’s soul. Then I ran into Clive and I told him what I saw.”
Callum shook his head. The man baffled him. He got no answers. “All right, my thanks, Lockie. If you remember anything else…”
“I’ll tell you, good laird. I’m glad you accepted the lairdship. Your father always said he wished you were first born. My brother was a good laird, just as you shall be, Laird.”
He squeezed his uncle’s shoulder in appreciation of his words and set out to find Neil to give him the news of his promotion. Callum expected to find him on the field, but no one practiced arms. As he anticipated, unless the men were directed, they’d laze about. He found Neil in the barracks and greeted him.
“Congratulations, Callum…ah, Laird. We’re pleased that you’ll lead us. We always hoped you would.”
Callum explained his request, and Neil chuffed with pride.
“I’ll be glad to oversee the lads. We’ll call them together to make the announcement. I’ll get them to exercise and will begin a vigorous regiment. They’ll be in shape in no time.”
He waited for the men to assemble, and all rejoiced at the news of Neil’s position. Though he was a hard taskmaster, he was a fair man. If anyone could toughen his soldiers, Neil would.
“Before I leave you to your duties, I have another need of you.”
Neil nodded enthusiastically. “Aye, Laird, whatever you need.”
“I want you to discreetly ask the soldiers if they’ve seen Hammond. He’s been missing, and I want to know what he’s been up to. I also want you to set a soldier to follow Elias. Make sure the soldier knows none are to be privy to his duty. I want to know where Elias goes and who he interacts with. If you find anything out, come to me immediately.”
“I will, Laird. Some of the soldiers have yet to come to the keep. They continue to work on their farmsteads, but when they come in, I’ll make inquiries. In the meantime, I’ll ask the soldiers in the barracks, discreetly, of course, if they’ve seen Hammond. And I know the perfect lad to put on Elias’s trail.”
“I trust you’ll keep this quiet, Neil. There are things I cannot speak of, but I appreciate your help and discretion on this matter.”
Neil nodded, bowed, and ambled away.
It wasn’t that he suspected Elias’s involvement in his brother’s death, but with his son missing too, the situation called for a wee bit of a clandestine inquiry.
Callum returned to his chamber and wrote a missive to Keith Sutherland. He wanted to personally invite him to the Imbolc festival and mentioned the reaffirmation of their alliance. Once he finished, he had a lad take it. Supper would soon be served, and he hadn’t eaten with his clan since his return. He supposed he should join them, but he hesitated.
In the hallway, he noticed the door to the barbican open. He reached the opened exit and spotted Mor standing by the wall. “You shouldn’t come out here alone, Mor. How many times do I have to tell you, it’s too dangerous.”
“This is the only place where I can be alone. The sky and elements call. When I heed their summons and receive their grace, I must come to pay my reverence.”
Callum linked his arm with hers. “When you want to come out here, find me, and I’ll join you. I want your promise not to come here alone. It is not safe.”
She leaned against him, and he set his arm around her frail shoulder. “You always were a good lad. I promise to find you. So you’ve accepted the position? The clan rejoices.”
His shoulders tensed. “Aye, I accepted because they gave me no choice. I only hope I’ll do well for our clan.”
“You shall, for it has been your destiny to lead us. I haven’t met your guest yet. Clive tells me of her, and that she’s a bonny lass.” She tilted her chin and stared. “What is that look for, my lad?”
He shouldn’t discuss Violet with his gran, but Mor always kept his confidence. “What look?”
“I haven’t seen your eyes shine like that since you professed to love the lass Ruby. What were you, a lad of eight years then?”
Callum laughed at the reminder. “How easy wooing was at that age.”
“Is that what you’re doing…wooing?” Mor’s lips widened with a smile.
“Nay, but the woman appeals, and I find myself thinking about her. I haven’t had an easy time, Mor, with fair lasses. What if I’m the unlovable sort? Lydia didn’t care for me, but I tried to please her. I doubt I’ll marry aga
in.”
Mor squeezed his arm. “Your wife was a selfish lass. And you are most certainly loveable. I love you, as does our clan. As to women, you will win the heart of the woman you’re destined to be with. When you do love, it will be completely.”
“I cannot be concerned about insignificant matters of the heart. The clan needs guidance, and we’ve been through enough, what with Gavin leading us. Once I figure out how to best handle the discord he’s done, I’ll worry about the fair lasses.” Callum kept a serious expression because, to him, his clan was more important than his wants or needs.
Mor tightened her hold on him. “My lad, every man needs a good woman who will stand with him, and beside him. You need to beget a son if our clan is to prosper. But I say this with your welfare in mind: Don’t give up your happiness for the sake of others. Love as you have never loved, and don’t let that love be slighted by anyone.”
He sighed at the woeful discussion. “Come, we should get down to supper.” Callum helped Mor leave the rampart, and secured the door. His gran was a romantic, but she’d had a great love, for his grandfather revered her, and they ruled their clan together. He hoped to win the hand of a woman who would be a partner in life, not an adulterous harlot who didn’t care for him.
In the hall, his family gathered, along with their guests. His uncles, except for Elias, boisterously jested about a mishap a soldier had earlier. Callum sat purposely afar from Violet. He watched her throughout the meal but tried not to be affected by her coy eyes, her sweet lips, and her delicate movements. Lord, he was a besotted arse.
Hawisa reprimanded Dela for not eating all the food on her trencher. He wondered why Violet gave her a cross glance. Hawisa was kind to look after his daughter. Children needed discipline. Perhaps Violet didn’t agree with Hawisa’s approach to child-rearing. He’d leave the mothering to Hawisa, and wouldn’t interfere.
The hall cleared, and most sought their rest for the night. Elias seemed to want to talk to him, but Callum held up his hand. After the hellish day, he didn’t want to deal with his cantankerous uncle. He needed to get off his feet and use the healing balm on his aching muscles.
“We’ll discuss what’s bothering you on the morrow unless it’s important.”
“Do you consider your cousin, my son, important? Hammond needs responsibility, not ignorance,” Elias said sternly.
Callum raised his chin, and his shoulders slumped. What his uncle said was true. “You’re right. All within the clan are important. That includes Hammond. I will see him on the morrow, and we will discuss his place here. Have you found him yet?”
“Nay, but I will, and we’ll come on the morrow.” Elias tipped his head and left.
Callum made his way to his chamber and entered. He sat at his desk for a while and contemplated all he’d done throughout the day. The next day, his clan would gather for the Imbolc festival. It was time to join together. Perhaps it would begin a more peaceful, settled time for his clan.
He’d accepted the position as the laird, but there were other issues he needed to resolve. His brother’s death troubled him. Someone murdered him on their land. There had to be a traitor amongst them, but who? And that got him to thinking about his clansmen, who tried to slay him at the battle. They’d been sent to ambush him, and fortunately, were unsuccessful. He also wanted to investigate Lydia and who the father of her bairn was. Though he held disdain in his heart for her betrayal, he was disappointed she’d died.
Callum yawned and stretched. After he applied a good bit of salve to his leg and shoulder, he realized it was time to seek his bed. Maybe this night, he’d get a proper night’s sleep. He entered his bedchamber and stopped short. Violet lay upon the covers on her side. Her eyes were closed, and a light breath raised her chest. She slept. The fabric of her nightrail did little to hide the beauty beneath. The hue of her nipples almost forced a groan from his lips.
He sat in the chair next to the bed and watched her sleep. He hadn’t meant to gawk at her, but his eyes raked over her body from head to foot. When she moved, her nightrail shifted and uncovered her long, soft-looking leg. He muttered a curse under his breath. Callum shut his eyes against the vision of his mouth kissing her thigh, and his breath hastened.
It took a strong will not to join her. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her sweet lips. But he swore he wouldn’t leave the chair. As much as he was drawn to her, he wouldn’t act with dishonor. She’d had enough troubles in the last months. He wondered if she’d loved her husband and if his death had distraught her. If his wife had been faced with such treachery, she probably would’ve rejoiced.
He spent the rest of the night watching her unmoving form and resisted the desirous urges that taunted him. To be held again and loved by a woman who wanted his affection, sorely tested his conduct and restraint. When Violet kissed him, she had done so with passion, and desire strong and pure, overwhelmed him. He hadn’t experienced such lust in a good long time.
Questions came, and he pondered how she’d ended up in his bed. He thought about Henry’s missive and his plea to look after Violet. Callum supposed it wasn’t a hardship to do so, but he wanted and needed to protect himself. He wouldn’t be lured into a loveless relationship again. No matter how affected he was by her beauty.
Chapter Eight
Violet stretched and opened her eyes, and for a moment, she’d forgotten she’d awaited Callum the night before in his bed. She was in his bedchamber and must have fallen asleep. He hadn’t come to bed during the night, or if he had, he didn’t make it known. She planned to wait for him with the excuse she wanted to talk about his garden. She’d hoped their discussion led to more kisses, but her plan to seduce Callum wasn’t going well. He was nowhere to be seen, and the day before, he kept away. How in God’s good name would she win his affection?
She glanced around his chamber and tried to find something that gave insight to his demeanor or interests, but nothing short of a stack of missives sat on his desk. His office area was overrun with piles of journals. She picked up one and opened it. Callum wrote of a skirmish he was involved in, the one that caused his injury. Reading his thoughts despaired her. She closed the volume and put it back with the others. Violet wanted to open the trunks to see what was inside, but she wouldn’t intrude on his personal possessions, even though she’d already done so.
She turned and peered at the largest wall, and gasped. In her nervous state the night before, she hadn’t taken notice of his chamber. In the center of the wall, a large sword gleamed. The sword looked heavy and was embellished with decorative flourishes on the blade, and jewels secured on the hilt. Callum’s sword. Would that she could reach it and touch the striking weapon. Situated around his most prized weapon, was a mass of daggers, maces, flails, hammers, and a few lances. An iron rack held his coat of mail, and helmet with an elaborate decoration punched into the metal. Along with those items were his hauberk, body armor of cutlets, and gauntlets. What he must have looked like garbed in the finery, ready for battle.
Violet hadn’t realized she held her breath until she was forced to take one. She was struck motionless and gaped at the weaponry. How she wished to know the courageous man who wore such protection. Defeated, she left his chamber, and entered hers, resigned to failure.
Gussy stood by the bed and folded a cover. “Good morn.” She smiled and set the cover aside. “I expected you during the night, but you didn’t come. I suspect all went well, and your seduction is complete? How did your night go with the dreamy laird?”
“It didn’t. He never came to bed, and I saw him not.”
Gussy pouted. “Aww, My Lady, don’t give up hope. There’s always tonight. You can try again.”
She sighed wearily. “I doubt this will work. Obviously, Callum is not interested, and I am wretched at enticement.”
“Worry not, My Lady, if he is not enticed now, he shall be. At least, he will allow you to stay.”
Violet nodded, and even so, she had to somehow find a reason to draw
his regard. “But for how long? That is the question. The day is dreary. I should wear a heavier gown.” A chill came over her, and she trembled.
“It rained all morning. The clan was to gather for some sort of spring festival.”
“Is it not too cold for an outdoor event?”
Gussy set a trencher on the bed. “I suppose they’re used to the cold. You should eat, My Lady. The clan gathers, and the keep’s cook is beside himself. Perhaps they’ll still hold their gathering. Many already assemble. The men erected tents and fire pits. From what Clive told me, if the weather proves fair, the men would collect wood for the remainder of winter. And if it shows foul, he said winter would be at its end and spring near.”
“That sounds far-fetched to me.”
“At least there will be warm fires. We should join them. I’m for merriment.”
Violet could use a bit of merriment herself and hoped to see Callum. She spent the last week and skulked about the castle in hopes to get a glimpse of Laird Sinclair. His obvious avoidance of her dejected her spirit. With all gathered for the festival, he had to make an appearance. But there was no guarantee he would.
She also wanted to speak to Hawisa about Dela. The child was miserable, and she wanted to help her. She quailed at the thought the poor girl’s mother died because no one mentioned her. The girl needed a gentle hand and affection, not the care of a mean-spirited woman like Hawisa.
Violet dressed in her best gown, a plain long-sleeved green dress with flowing skirts. The material pleated from the waist down and reached her feet. Gussy had lowered the bodice because she’d insisted it would entice the laird. She could’ve snorted at that, even a low-cut bodice would do little to draw his attention.
