Highland Fire (Guardians of the Stone) Read online

  She tried to convince herself that what she did was for the good of Scotia. David seemed to believe Aidan was a threat to the peace of the clans. Through his tales, she had, in fact, envisioned Aidan as a great painted brute, with greasy hair and bloodstains on his clothes—and his people as war-mongering, bloodthirsty fiends, who walked around gnawing the meat off bones. It was an image David had painted first, and Rogan had seen fit to embellish.

  But it was not the truth.

  These people were no different from her kin. The stories were all lies. These were simple folk, mayhap, but otherwise much the same as any other clan.

  That truth unsettled her, for it meant that what she was about to do was far more self-serving than she would like to believe... and yet... for her son, she would move the Am Monadh Ruadh themselves.

  Next to the brazier, she spied a small ewer with clean water, along with a bowl, and went to splash her face, hoping that once she was done she might then awaken from this nightmare and find herself in her bed at Keppenach, with her son’s sweet little hands caressing her cheeks, bidding her to waken.

  Kellen, sweet Kellen, how does he fare?

  The water in the ewer was icy. It stung her skin, but she welcomed the sensation, and wondered if there was a private place along the loch where she might bathe. She didn’t dare undress here for fear of being discovered. As for her arisaid, it was nowhere to be found and she realized she must have left it at Glenna’s, and then began worrying over Glenna's child, wondering how he too fared.

  After Aidan had left them alone, she and Glenna had talked at length... mostly about their children, but Lìli had wept, despite her resolve not to. Tears would change little, she realized, and in truth, she had deceived the poor woman, for Lìli’s sins were far greater than the simple act of abandoning her son. This morning, she felt guilt-ridden over all the kind words and thanks Glenna had offered.

  Would she thank her later? Once her chieftain was dead?

  Doubtless not, for it was clear these people loved their laird—something Lìli could never afford to feel. So she hardened her heart, considering her own flesh and blood. She had a task to accomplish here and softening toward these people was not to her benefit.

  And yet... she couldn’t—wouldn’t—have treated Duncan any differently. Children were innocents.

  The door suddenly opened, and Lìli spun about, smoothing her gown down around her hips, feeling more discomfited than ever before in a man’s presence for she was guilty, despite that no one was accusing her of anything as yet.

  Aidan held his breath.

  He had fully expected to find her lying abed as it was early yet, but she stood with her back to the morning sun peering in through the unshuttered window. Its golden light surrounded her with a shimmering halo, and he was wholly unprepared for the sight of her.

  She reminded him in that instant of a kelpie—a spirit half horse, half woman who tempted men with their beauty to ride them and then plunged them into the loch to drown.

  He was drowning in those violet eyes, even as he stood on dry land.

  Realizing that she must be weary beyond measure, he had allowed her to sleep while he rose to tend to matters at hand. Now it was long past time for her to break her fast, and he had already given the ladies leave to dismantle the tables and clear the hall. Thus he’d brought her a tray replete with nourishment—everything from bread and cheese to boiled eggs and berries. It was the first time in his life—ever—that he had felt compelled to serve anyone in this way. The tray in his hands felt awkward and heavy.

  “Ye’re awake,” he said stupidly.

  The sound of his own voice annoyed him.

  She nodded, looking like a beautiful, terrified doe, faced with a hunter and his bow. Her gaze immediately dropped to the tray in his hand and to his chagrin, Aidan’s cheeks warmed, and he felt a keen desire to drop the tray and walk away. But he didn’t. He held his ground as bravely as any warrior facing death.

  But she was hardly the image of death... she was beauty incarnate, even with her hair mussed and her dress wrinkled after having slept in it all night long. The soft blue wool traced her curves like a lover’s touch.

  He liked this gown far better than the courtly costume she had arrived in. He only knew it for what it was, because the very first time David had come to Dubhtolargg, after his brother Alasdair’s death, in an attempt to secure Aidan’s loyalties, he had brought along his English wife, Maud. They had stayed but a single night, for the countess of Huntingdon had been none too impressed with their meager lifestyle and had pressed her husband to return her to her beloved home south of the border.

  Last night, he had lain beside Lìleas, the distance between as wide as a river and yet so narrow that it had tormented him. Her silken hair had beckoned to his callused hands, to test the softness of it, unravel it from her braids and lay it about her like a pillow of velvet. And yet he hadn’t dared, for touching her may have proven his downfall. He had never in his life wanted to lay with a woman more than he wanted her—most especially after all he had witnessed yesterday—her kindness toward his sister and toward Glenna and the boy.

  This morning, her curls had worked themselves free from her braid and fell in disarray about her face, a deep chestnut cloud of waves. Her cheeks were pink and her violet eyes bright and mesmerizing—a like color to the gown she was wearing now—a fact he had completely missed last night in the dim light of Glenna’s home.

  He realized now he was staring and averted his gaze, walking over the bed to set down the tray he held. “I thought ye may like to break your fast,” he said, smoothing the covers away from the tray. He felt like an awkward boy, no different from his brother Keane, and he didn’t particularly enjoy the feeling.

  “Thank you,” she said, but she didn’t move from where she stood watching him, like an animal frozen and ready for flight. If he said the wrong thing, she might vanish before his eyes.

  Ach, but she was probably accustomed to fancy talk and fancy folk, and he was but a simple man.

  Besides, he had never actually wooed a woman before now, and he couldn’t be certain that’s what he wished to do at any rate, even should she welcome it.

  The entire situation was confusing.

  “I had your arisaid burned,” he said, for lack of knowing what better thing to say. He wanted her to understand that she was his bride now, and that he fully intended to follow through with their bargain. In fact, he planned to wed her as soon as possible—tonight, as long as they weren’t burying a child, and it seemed as though, thanks to Lìleas, wee Dunc would be fine.

  Lìli blinked at his words.

  He’d burned her arisaid?

  Like a frightened little girl, she had remained frozen in place, waiting for him to speak. But once he did, she wasn’t at all certain she had heard him correctly.

  By the rood, what would possess a grown man to do such a childish thing? If that was not uncivilized behavior, Lìli didn’t know what was! She cherished that woolen cloak, and it was not as though good wool should ever be wasted, no matter what colors they bore.

  “Why on earth would you do such a thing?”

  He turned to look at her, his hands going behind his back, his green eyes glittering fiercely. “Because... I willna have my bride wearing another man’s colors. Do ye ken, lass?” He spoke calmly, without the least trace of anger, but the possessive tone of his words sent a quiver down her spine.

  Lìli bristled. “I am not your possession, nor indeed your wife, my lord—not 'til we have said the words!”

  “Aidan,” he persisted. “Ha’ ye spent so much time with bluidy Sassenachs that ye embraced their customs as well as their tongue?”

  Lìli hitched her chin. “I've spent no time with the English. Lest ye forget, ’tis Caimbeul blood runs through my veins! I am a Scot the same as you!”

  Too late, she realized it was the worst thing she might have said to him, for he stood suddenly, his jaw working furiously, though he said nothing
in response.

  “I am not a Scot,” he said, enunciating slowly.

  Regretting her outburst, Lìli tried to soften her words somehow, and still remind him that she had a choice in this matter—even if she truly did not. “But I am—through and through—and I must remind ye, as such, I am free to wed where I choose!”

  He narrowed his gaze and the muscles in his arms twitched beneath his tunic, as though he held his hands restrained behind his back. “Ach, but isn’t that why ye're here, Lìleas Caimbeul? Because ye chose to sacrifice yourself to the odious mountain Scot for the sake of peace?”

  His calm demeanor did not fool her. In fact, he looked far more dangerous in that instant than he had since the moment she had met him—despite that he had discarded the war paint and claymore.

  Lìli experienced an instant of true fear under his scrutiny.

  “Nay,” he continued, his jaw working still. He took a step nearer, closing the distance between them, his eyes spearing her more deeply than any of the blades upon his wall could manage to do. “In fact, what was it David claimed? Not simply peace betwixt our clans, but between all Highlanders—of which I am, despite that I canna stomach the notion of brotherhood with Scotia!” When she said nothing, he continued. “Di’ ye realize it was a damned Caimbeul who stood and watched as Giric murdered his king in cold blood?”

  Lìli shook her head, uncertain of what king he spoke. She knew nothing of the politics of men. But David was alive when last she saw him.

  “Aye, they whispered into Aed’s ear as friends... all the while their daggers were poised at his back…”

  It dawned on Lìli suddenly that he was speaking of a betrayal that was more than two centuries old. It was no wonder these men could not get along, for they clung to past injuries as though they were fresh wounds! Why could they not simply leave the past where it belonged?

  “So, aye,” he proposed, “dinna remind me whose blood runs through your veins, for then I must also recall that treachery is your truest nature.”

  He glanced down at the tray of food he had brought her and his look was one of disgust, as though he regretted the gesture.

  Lìli tried to reason with him. “You speak of ancient histories, Aidan! ’Tis long past time to set the insult aside.”

  “Ancient histories? Insult, you call it?” His hands left his back, and formed twin fists at his side as he took an angry step toward her. Lìli had the immediate impression that had she been a man, she would have found herself flat upon the ground. “Mayhap ye dinna recall it was your Da who walked away from a feast of friendship with my kinsmen’s blood upon his hands?”

  Lil’s eyes widened in horror.

  “It took us years to wash the bloodstains from our hall,” he said bitterly.

  Of all the scenarios Lìli might have envisioned, that was not one. She had always pictured her father in the midst of battle with Aidan’s father, not supping at their table. When a man was invited into another man’s hall, it was to be considered sanctuary. Now she understood why Glenna had greeted her the way she had, with such venom.

  And yet she could not bring herself to believe it without question. There must have been some treachery that had driven her father to it? Even Padruig would not betray such an ancient pact.

  “It would serve ye best to recall I am no Scot,” he advised her. “Nor will I ever be one, and this is something you must accept to be my wife.” His eyes glittered with dark promise.

  In that instant, Lìli could not believe the injuries committed by both parties could be so easily healed by their union... nor was it bound to, for her marriage to this man would only widen the rifts between the clans.

  But if he repudiated her now, mayhap there was hope as yet?

  “Aye, but I am a Scot,” she countered, “and you cannot fashion me into something I am not! Mayhap after all you should return me to my father?”

  For the longest moment, he simply stared at her, and Lìli held her breath as she awaited his response. If he sent her back... even before the ceremony, mayhap then she would be freed from her burden? Or would David then blame her for sending his plans awry, and what then would happen to her son? She both wanted desperately to know the answer and feared to the depths of her soul that he would send her on her way.

  His eyes burned with ire. “Did ye willingly choose this union, Lìleas?”

  Lìli held her tongue, for nay, she had not chosen this. It was commanded of her, but she could not say so. Those hands he held at his sides—hands that only moments ago and borne in the peace offering that now sat upon the bed—could snap her neck only too easily were he to suspect her true reason for wedding him.

  Something in her expression must have angered him for his eyes darkened yet more. “Did you choose to be my bride?” he persisted.

  “Aye! Of course!” Lìli relented.

  He unclasped his breacan quickly, with deft fingers and then hurled it at her. “This then is your cloak and none other. If I doubt you for an instant, Lìli, I will send you home with a message for your father. That is my promise. So then prepare yourself. Tonight we stand before your priest and mine and say the words you claim you wish to speak, and never again will you remind me of your Caimbeul blood, for tomorrow when you awaken, you will awaken as my wife, the lady of Dubhtolargg!” He turned suddenly and walked out the door, leaving her alone.

  Chapter Twelve

  By all that was sacred, Aidan should have sent her home.

  In that furious instant, he might have—especially considering Una’s words, that she might be the death of him yet. But something had prevented him—whether it was the look of fear on her face, or something else, he did not truly know, but there was no denying his decision had not been entirely unselfish or even sensible.

  He wanted her.

  It was pure insanity, given what he knew about her Da, and the risk he took in keeping her in his home, but he wanted Lìleas with an intensity that could not be denied. He told himself it was Una’s prophecy that compelled him.

  But it wasn’t true.

  He hadn’t a bloody clue how this one woman could save their clan, nor even what it was she was supposed to be saving them from, but he craved her with a madness not unlike a drunkard craved uisge—and with a lack of constraint that startled him. He was not a man who indulged in excesses, nor did he condone self-indulgence as a way of life. That roistering sense of avarice was the hallmark of the bloody English—and Scots like Caimbeul who loved their Sassenach riches more than they loved their honor.

  Aidan was no monk, but that was precisely why he kept his dwelling simple, even stuck as they were between tribesmen at war—even with the precious treasure they harbored. There was more to life than simply filling ones coffers, and building walls to keep out pillaging hoards. Nay, but the way of his kinsmen was a communion with the land itself and the true treasure of the Highlands was its country.

  Even the stone they guarded paled in comparison.

  But he would never keep Lìleas against her will, for that would make him little better than those he strove not to be. All she would have had to say was that she did not wish this union, and he would have sent her on her way before nightfall, and with far more security than her father had delivered her with, for no one could ever say that Aidan did not value the gift of life, and a woman deserved no less than any man—even if Caimbeul blood coursed through her veins.

  But she feared something...

  Something had drained the blood from her face more swiftly than a cold steel blade to her throat. Once she had challenged him to send her away, her skin had turned as pale as his tunic as she awaited his response.

  For answers, he sought Lachlann, to see if the man had any insight after watching her companions last night. Whatever they were after, he would discover it, by God, and it would please him to no end to take out his frustrations on that weasel of a man who called himself her brother by law.

  How does one prepare for a wedding one does not want?


  Lìli enjoyed the meal Aidan brought her with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man with his final meal—not that it wasn’t delicious. He’d offered her a bit of everything, with boiled eggs that tasted as though they had been freshly picked this morn, bread that was still warm from the oven, and a handful of berries. It was more that her guilt weighed like a fat stone in her belly, and her self-condemnation multiplied with every bite. One thing was certain; his kinsmen knew how to eat, judging by the way they broke their fast. But the fact that he might have gone out of his way for her didn’t settle well, so while she gorged herself, the sour feeling in her belly only grew until it became an ache.

  Of course, it didn’t help that she hadn’t eaten a true meal for more than a week now, and then last night she had gone to bed with little enough, save for a taste of the stew she had cooked for Glenna and her son.

  She couldn’t get Kellen out of her mind this morning. Would they see that he ate well? Would they allow him to play in the sun at least once every day? Would they keep him away from the men at arms? He was a boy, after all, and curious, but she didn’t trust Rogan to keep him safe. In fact, aside from the one nursemaid, there was no one she felt she could trust at Keppenach, for they all vied for the new lord’s favor, and those who didn’t feared to incur his wrath. It was amazing how quickly alliances turned once the tide shifted in another direction. But of course, Stuart had never truly inspired loyalty—not the way Aidan seemed to command it from his people.

  At the bonfire, Lìli had not missed the looks his kinfolk had cast in her direction—particularly once their laird had arrived. Only once it seemed Aidan would not strangle her where she stood had they relaxed enough to drink and be merry. And yet, none of them had approached her save Aidan.

  How would they embrace her once she and Aidan were wed? Would they accept her? Would they trust her? Inasmuch as she hoped so, she also felt terrible for the way she would betray them.

  But that was then, and this was now. The task she must see to this morning, if Aidan meant what he said, was to prepare herself for a wedding celebration—but how to begin, when even his sisters, save for the youngest all seemed to despise her?