Demon Laird (Legacy of the Mist Clans) (24 page)

Ronan caught her hand and kissed the back of it. “Well met, my
bonny lass.”

Lia blushed prettily
, but Aidan noted she also studied Ronan intently. “Are you feeling all right?”

So it wasn’t just his imagination.

Ronan shot a wink at Aidan then grinned up at her. “I am fine.”

She inclined her head as if she wasn’t sure if she believed him but
then sat next to Ronan at the table.

Ronan turned his attention to the food, his stomach rumbling loudly. Lia laughed next to him and Aidan joined her.

Ronan chuckled, accepting the roundels Aidan handed him. “So will ye both fault me for enjoying the lass’s cooking?”

“Not I,” Aidan said as he returned to his chair.

“I do have one question, lass,” Ronan said as he ate. “I noticed the meals ye prepare for me are now constant, they are the same as those I chose when ye offered the selection.”

She grinned at him, wrinkling her nose in an adorable fashion. “I suppose I can tell you now.”

Ronan looked at her sharply. “As long as ye dinna utter the word
hemlock
.”

Aidan nearly choked, taking a quick drink of his wine to wash his food down.

“Nay,” Lia said laughing. “Remember how I thought you had learned to manage your illness long ago?”

“Aye.”

“I noticed you’ve been displaying an aversion to certain foods, even those Aidan said were once your favorites.”

He blinked, staring at his plate.

“Sueta believes some foods, while not the source of the problem, can aggravate an illness such as yours.”

Aidan’s thoughts raced. He was the one with supposed great powers of observation. “Saints be merciful,” he muttered
, suddenly wanting to kick himself. “I ne’er realized, but ye are correct, Lia. The older Ronan grew, the more power he had tae choose what he ate. Why didna I see it afore?”

“You did see it, Aidan, but honestly, the only reason why I
knew its import was because I have been taught since I was a child to watch for this sort of thing.”

“This makes no sense,” Ronan said.
“I had no idea I had an illness, let alone that certain foods could provoke it.”

“You may not have realized,” Lia said
, “but something within you did.” She paused and thought for a moment. “Have you ever eaten something—perhaps something not cooked correctly—that made you terribly sick? So sick that you couldn’t keep it down?”

“Aye.”

“Have you been able to eat that food again?”

Ronan shook his head, his face turning a bit green.

“See, you’re having the response right now just thinking about it. Your stomach sours whenever you see the food, or even if you smell it cooking. Now, did you tell your stomach to protest?”

“Nay.”

“It just did it on its own; you didn’t have to think about it. Even if you wanted to try eating that food again, your stomach would be telling you nay and reminding you why you don’t want to eat it.”

“
Aye,” he said, looking at her in surprise.

“
When you lost your appetite and pushed away the roast pheasant, I realized this was a possibility I couldn’t ignore. Therefore, I decided to give you the choice of what you ate. But if I had told you why, it might have influenced your decisions.”

Ronan gazed at her a long moment
before his familiar grin returned. “Intriguing,” he said and returned to his meal.

“However,” Lia said
, “if you find yourself becoming bored with the food, we can always try new selections.”

Aidan laugh
ed. “Dinna tell him that, he will run ye ragged, lassie.”

“Brother,” Ronan said in warning.

Lia laughed softly.

Aidan watched his brother’s interaction with Lia through the
remainder of their meal. He wondered if they would continue like this if she became his sister-by-law. It was an interesting possibility, and Aidan found himself looking forward to it. He decided then the rest of his news could wait until after his brother finished eating.

****

Ronan finished his meal and helped Lia clear the roundels from the table, returning them to the tray. Her words this morning had surprised him, but he was impressed with her ingenuity. He rubbed his eyes, wishing his vision would focus. He hadn’t slept at all last night, and his work with the claymore had exhausted him. Perhaps he would be able to take a short nap today and avoid being harried with nightmares.

Lia opened the door and called a servant to fetch the tray. Aidan rose from his place but
walked to the corner of the solar where Ronan kept his maps of clan holdings and the surrounding area. Ronan’s worry suddenly levered upward. Perhaps Aidan’s birds sang more songs that he had not yet shared.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Ronan’s head snapped around as a terrifying
ly familiar form strode through the door. The echo of his vicious laughter resounded. Ronan leapt sideways, automatically reaching for a weapon, only to belatedly realize his dagger was on the table next to his bed. For the barest instant, Ronan’s gaze focused on le March striding toward him.

“Ronan?” Lia’s voice, suddenly dista
nt, called to him. Somehow she managed to cut through the terror and hatred that fogged his thoughts and blurred reality.

Ronan blinked and realized
Lachlan had entered the room, walking toward the table to pick up the tray.

“Ronan, what’s wrong?” Lia asked, moving to his side, her gentle hand gripping his arm.

Ronan released his breath as his wits returned. What the devil had just happened?

“Ronan?”

“’Tis nothing,” he lied, his voice hoarse. “Why?”

“You just jumped sideways as if someone had hit you with a hot poker,” Aidan said.

Ronan gritted his teeth. If Aidan realized his words voiced exactly what le March had done to him… again Ronan’s vision blurred. For an instant, he saw le March’s face, less than an inch from his. Ronan’s soul recoiled when he saw the twisted joy in the man’s eyes as he laid the white hot iron against Ronan’s chest. Ronan bellowed in agony, every muscle in his body contracting with undisguised power, straining the chains that bound him.

Ronan gasped, feeling as if the scar on his chest reopened and bled anew
; the stench of his burning flesh filled his nostrils again, and he could not rid himself of it. Pain rocked through him, ripping at his heart and mind. A tiny voice in his soul screamed in terror. His time at home was nothing but a hallucination, and this agony was reality reasserting itself. He was still imprisoned, still le March’s captive.

“You will never be free!”

Ronan strangled on a curse, gasping for air. He suddenly realized his hand covered the throbbing wound, and he pulled it away expecting to see fresh blood. But there was nothing there.

Then Lia’s delicate fingers appeared, her hand gripping his with surprising strength, grounding him in reality and pulling him from the nightmare
. Ronan struggled to draw in another breath, willing his pounding heart to slow.

Lia reached up and cupped his face with her hand. Her touch instantl
y calmed the terror clawing at the darkest corners of his mind. He lowered his head and squeezed his eyes closed, once again able to breathe normally.

Be calm. Th
is is what is real. Breathe, lad, and pull yer wits about ye.

“Ronan, what’s wrong?” she whispered.

He shot a glance at his brother. “We will talk later,” he said but took the opportunity to lightly kiss her cheek and inhale her sweet scent. Only then did the memory of the stench of his burning flesh truly fade.

“Hey now,” Aidan muttered.

Ronan managed to smile at Lia, his body finally uncoiling.

Aidan unrolled the map and they used their wine cups to keep it flat. “My birds say Longshanks
is coming back around, headed south, and has his sights set on Stirling Castle, the last holdout of Scottish resistance.” Aidan placed markers to show the English-controlled castles and Longshanks’s troop movements.

Ronan
forced himself to concentrate solely on his brother and the matter at hand. He nodded. “Longshanks is content with controlling the Lowlands.”

“L
e March is pushing for him tae move into the Highlands before he lays siege tae Stirling.”

L
ia looked at the map and scowled. “How far is Stirling from here?”

“In the terms of Longshanks’s warfare, no’
verra far,” Ronan said softly. “Stirling be less than one hundred miles from us as the crow flies.” He looked at Lia and noted her puzzled expression. “What be the difference tae us, lassie, is the fact we are in the Highlands. In this terrain, the Scots excel. But in the Lowlands, Longshanks holds the advantage. As long as the clans fight the war on English terms, Longshanks will continue to systematically destroy the resistance.”

A
s Aidan placed markers showing the English gains, Ronan noted Clan MacGrigor was caught in the middle. “With Campbell at our backs,” he growled.

“Aye, brother,” Aida
n said nodding. “As I told ye afore, le March is hounding Longshanks tae move against MacGrigor. In a sense, it is prudent because if we descend from the Highlands, we will flank his army and could cause all sorts of hardship and discontent. But whispers of the Demon Laird resound through the ranks of the common soldiers, and my birds say Longshanks is unwilling tae risk it.”

“Unwilling
tae risk giving up his advantage when he enters the Highlands, ye mean.”

Aidan looked at the map, scowling.

“Brother, if Longshanks leaves the Lowlands, the tide of battle turns tae our advantage. Longshanks is no fool.” Ronan sat back, examining the map at length.

“Ronan,” Aidan said softly. “Ye have that look in
yer eye again.”

Ronan grinned at him. “Ye heard the saying, let sleeping dogs lie?”

“Of course.”

“Unless they wake this sleeping dog, the Demon Laird will remain quiet.”

“Ronan?” Lia asked, the worry plain on her face.

“Peace, my
bonny lass. Longshanks no doubt has little use for tall tales and superstition. His men, however, they be a different story. Aidan, ’tis time tae give yer birds a new song for the others tae hear.”

“What is that?”

“The Demon Laird willna threaten, but provoke him, and ye call down the thunder.”

Aidan’s eyes widened. “Ronan, Longshanks will take that as a challenge.”

Ronan shook his head. “As I said, he is no fool; he can read a map as well as I. He will understand the message. He would much rather focus on Stirling than worry over a small Highland clan. The one man who will most certainly see it as a challenge is le March. Longshanks will keep him collared and muzzled, and that will infuriate him.”

Aidan gazed at him in confusion.

Ronan thought for a long moment, liking his idea more and more. It was time he stopped fearing le March and his memories. “Le March toyed with me, now it is my turn.”

“Ronan,
” Aidan said aghast, “ye have ne’er placed a personal vendetta o’er the welfare of the clan.”

Ronan shook his head again. “I
dinna do this for that reason. I toy with le March simply tae provoke him. If he somehow manages tae convince Longshanks tae attack us, le March will be so incensed, he will be making decisions emotionally, no’ logically.”

“If ye are certain, brother, I will tell my birds.”

“I am certain.”

“There be one last thing.”

“Aye?”

“Gordy says
MacFarlane has been seen visitin’ Campbell’s great hall many a time recently.”

Ronan scowled. L
aird MacFarlane had been a staunch ally of his da’s for years. But he also remembered Aidan telling him that MacFarlane did not wish to support Ronan right after his wounding. MacFarlane did it for the memory of Ronan’s da, nothing else. But the man had witnessed one of Ronan’s fits, and Ronan did not doubt when Aidan had brought him home, he had appeared closer to death than he was to life. He could not fault the laird for that.

“Probably
negotiatin’ with Campbell tae keep his own clan out of the fray,” Ronan said.

“Normally, I would agree with you, but Gordy also heard a disturbing rumor. He has not been able
tae learn the truth of it, but some be sayin’ MacFarlane sold grain tae MacLaren. The very grain that we purchased.”

Ronan’s heart lurched and he clenched his fists as red tinted his vision. “He sold the blighted grain?” He felt Lia’s hand grip his and slowly unclench his fingers so she could entwine hers around them.

“’Tis a rumor, brother. Gordy is still searching for the truth.”

“
Ye tell me as soon as he learns it. Someone kenned that grain was blighted, and as soon as I find out who it was… there will be the devil tae pay.”