Highland Dragon (12 page)

Damn him and his evil blood! Rage and an undeniable taste for revenge consumed her. She wanted The Beast’s head for his crimes against her kin. She always knew he was evil. “Why in all o’ Scots has he not been denounced before now? Clan Kinnon’s warriors cannae be more than three hundred. The MacLeods alone triple that number. Why have ye not revolted before now?”

“Your laird holds favor with the king of Scotland. Laird Kinnon dinnae join forces with the royalists, which not only gained him the king’s protection, but the Lowlanders, as weel.”

“I’d have killed The Beast myself had I known what he’d done to my kin,” she stated with conviction.

Calin brought her hand to his chest, pulling her closer. “Kendrick couldnae deny your mother, nor his duty to protect ye and your sisters. When your brother is chieftain, Laird Kinnon will get his punishment. Kendrick has promised this to your kinsmen for more than a decade. ’Tis why he married Maggie to Logan Donald. He is the third-born son of the chieftain o’ Clan Donald. The Donalds are already Kendrick’s allies and await our union to unite the Isles.”

Akira steadied her breathing and unclenched her fist, but held tight to his hand, thankful for his strength. She studied the puzzle Calin presented. Kendrick had been building a rebellion within the Kinnon clan to revolt against Laird Kinnon’s garrison. Her brother married Maggie to Logan to align the Kinnons with the Donalds. But Neala was first born and married to a Kinnon crofter. Had Neala been betrothed to Logan before The Beast ruined her?

Akira hated the laws of the land. Hated the way men of status formed allies through pure marriages. She tried to hate Kendrick for selling her sisters to form such alliances, but she understood that he had been part of a greater plan to protect, not only her sisters and Mam, but the Isles. If Kendrick and Calin intended to make her part of their machinations to unite the Isles, then Calin had to know how Kendrick intended to assume power of chieftainship.

“Ye will tell me how Kendrick is to become laird,” she demanded in a tone more forceful than she intended. “I am not ignorant to the law. The council will not honor my brother as laird over the Kinnon’s named heir. Kendrick is illegitimate. He wasnae born to a blessed marriage as Darach is.”

Calin studied the landscape. The black birds had resumed their feast in the lush green grasses, and the sun had already begun to burn through the mist. Akira knew he searched for words. She also sensed there was so much he wanted to tell her, but couldn’t or was afraid to. She held his hand, pleading with him silently to trust her.

Calin’s chin fell to his chest, and a muscle pulsed in his jaw. “If Laird Kinnon’s heir decrees Kendrick as chieftain, then your council will agree.”

Akira gave a quick hoot. That was their brilliant plan to oust The Beast? They were muddleheaded fools—both her brother and Calin. “If ye think Darach will agree to this, ye are mad, Calin MacLeod.”

The lines of his face broke into mischief. “I am mad. Mad about ye.” He crawled overtop her, lying her back against the velvet grasses, and then laced his fingers in hers beside her head.

He leaned into her face. The heat of his mouth warmed her lips and quickened her pulse. “I’ve already told ye more than I should have, but I need ye to trust me. Marry me today to protect your clan. To protect Scotland, and soon I’ll tell ye everything. I vow it.”

Kendrick must have known their union would protect so many people. Not only would Calin be a hero, so would her brother. The people of Dalkirth could be free of The Beast and could live respectable, happy lives under Kendrick’s reign. This vision filled her with peace. Her acceptance of this union would prevent The Beast from ever hurting anyone again.

She felt empowered. “I’ll marry ye.”

His smile came quickly and the arrogant bluster returned to his eyes. He was gloating, so she teased him. “To protect my family and my clan, but I’ll not submit to ye.”

Calin’s eyes brightened with mischief at this challenge. A broad, luscious grin sprang over his face as he started in with his antics. The bodice of her shift dipped low from her earlier struggles, revealing far more flesh than she knew was proper. He bent over her and nuzzled his nose over her chest. His eyelashes swept over her skin, tickling, tingling. He placed whisper-soft kisses across her upper breasts making it difficult for her to be quarrelsome.

She closed her eyes and tightened her clasp on his fingers. She didn’t know why, but his kiss and his touch made her ache. He would be her husband by day’s end, and she didn’t have to deny the way he made her feel, even if she didn’t ignite the same desire in him.

Her betraying body arched, craving his attention.

“Ye keep squirming like that and your rosy nipples will be exposed.”

Excitement pebbled the nipples he spoke of so freely. “And what would ye do if that happened?”

He nipped her bottom lip, but withdrew before engaging the kiss. “I would be forced to taste each one verra slowly.”

Akira inhaled a deep breath of cool mist, wanting to know what that would feel like. Raising both brows, she wiggled beneath him.

Calin groaned. “I am a weak mon. Ye must not tease me. Now please quit trying to seduce me, and allow me to take ye properly as my wife after we’re wed.”

She fought the undeniable hunger pooling low in her stomach. Refusing to give in to her stubbornness, she challenged him. “I’ll not smile when we are wed, nor will I give myself to ye willingly.”

“Och, my wee fire-breathing dragon, ye will do both.” Calin’s arrogant grin broadened just before he released her.

The morning sun warmed the top of Akira’s head on their journey across MacLeod soil. They stopped at three tenant farms along the way, where Calin accepted wedding gifts from his kinfolk as if they offered the king’s gold. He appeared humbled by these peasants, and his earnest thanks touched her heart. One of the matrons presented him with a lace kerchief to catch his bride’s tears. Another gave a spotted feather from the tail of a capercaillie for luck, and the third gifted Akira with a hollow egg. The elderly rawboned woman supplied instructions to crush the egg after the wedding night. Akira giggled nervously when the woman told her the egg represented the status of her womb.

Calin guided Sirius at a canter around Loch Ceardach, all the while answering her questions about his clan, his council, and the alliance. She was elated when he asked for her opinion on educating the young boys of the clan. No one had ever treated her with such regard.

Soon, a strong scent of sea mingled with the wind. A falcon screeched overhead, a leather strap hanging from its leg—circling, inviting them home.
Home.
The thought alone terrified her. The haunting melody of pipers echoed in the distance. At the peak of the knoll, Cànwyck Castle came into view. Her eyes widened at the sight before her. A fortress of stone basalt blocks loomed atop a steep coastal cliff and overlooked the open sea. Double towers, erected on both the east and west corners of the keep, tied a great curtain wall of stone around the bailey of cottages within the stronghold.

Clan MacLeod tripled the size of Clan Kinnon, mayhap more. And they would, no doubt, be expecting a woman of dignified grace. One who possessed qualities much nobler than those of a peasant. Akira had lived her entire life in a two-room cot-house with an earthen floor, tending to a herd of sheep and the needs of her sisters. This was madness. How could she possibly play the role of Lady of Clan MacLeod?

Her thoughts plagued her until they reached a deep moat separating them from Cànwyck Castle. A massive drawbridge began to lower. The rattle of metal pulsed in her ear as the porters raised an iron lattice gate to allow their entrance. With every clang, Akira fretted over another reason why she couldn’t possibly become Lady MacLeod. The portcullis rose higher until she thought she might retch. She clutched Calin’s forearm and beads of sweat pooled between her breasts. If she held the reins, she would have coaxed Sirius into a pounding gallop in the opposite direction.

“Halt! Please, m’laird. I cannae go in there.” Her voice shook with panic. “’Tis too much. Too grand. Please, just another night. I’ll be ready on the morrow to become your lady wife. I vow it.”

“Nay. This request I am denying ye. My kin have waited for ye too long, lass, and I assure ye, they will adore ye.”

Akira pulled on the reins and twisted in the saddle. “How can ye say that? Gordon does not adore me.”

“Gordon doesnae like anyone.”

“Those men who dragged me behind their horses to
Tigh Diabhail
showed me nay adoration.”

“Those men will be hunted and exiled.”

“Then name one of your kin who will
adore
me.”

“Aunt Wanda. She has a pure heart, and she will see that ye do, too, even though ye hide it behind your barbs. Now, release the reins, lass, and smile.” Calin clicked his tongue and nudged Sirius over the drawbridge and through the barbican.

Akira huffed then smoothed her hair and fidgeted with the pleats of her skirt. She did not smile. “I look like a hedgehog. I need a bath. I must have more time.”

Calin leaned into her and kissed her temple. “Ye are the most beautiful hedgehog I have ever seen.”

Her breathing increased while her hands continued to tremble, and the reassuring squeeze Calin offered her did little to ease her anxiety. “Ye must not show fear. They look to ye for strength,” he whispered into her hair.

Standing before each whitewashed cottage were men, women, and children garbed in multicolored plaids pinned with the MacLeod brooch. She thought the weaver must work dawn to dusk dying all the wool for such beautiful garments.

Calin halted at the base of a sloped embankment covered in the thick foliage of summer grasses. Two rows of pink-frosted primroses dabbled with bluebells bordered the worn path leading to the keep. The floral bouquet scented the air with an overwhelming sweet aroma, which explained the hum of busy bumblebees.

Calin dismounted then lowered her to stand beside him. Two spit boys scrambled to tend to Sirius and offer greetings to his new bride. The incessant skirling of bagpipes was soon drowned out by the high-pitched screams of a brood of children racing for Akira’s skirt. Five in all, each one taller than the next, skirmished around her kirtle staring at her with anxious interest. Beneath the fighting elbows came a crop of pale blond hair that framed the sweet cherub face of a little boy with giant blue eyes.

He raised his arms to Akira. “Choose me, m’lady.”

Not caring about the propriety of her new status, she bent to lift the young boy. Before she could stop him, he stretched his chubby arms around her neck, latched his fingers together, and embraced her with an affectionate hug.

“Welcome home, m’lady.” His sweet voice rang in her ear.

Her heart nearly exploded from the little innocent’s greeting. Her vision blurred with tears and a lump formed in her throat. This little boy could never know how powerful his words were. She refused to cry. Instead, she unveiled the smile she was determined not to share with Calin. She turned, knowing he studied her face. He seemed to want her approval. Had he granted her another day, she may have willingly given him that approval. As it stood, she decided to be stubborn and a wee bit selfish with her merriment. But the sweetling clutching her neck made being dismal difficult.

Alec, and a woman Akira guessed was Alec’s wife, Aileen, scurried after their children. Red-gold locks fell over her face when Aileen bowed. “A thousand pardons, m’lady. They dinnae know their manners.” Aileen attempted to peel the boy from Akira’s neck.

He wouldn’t let go. Wrinkling his nose, he gave his mother a sour expression and tightened his grasp.

Aileen apologized repeatedly. “Andrew, release m’lady this instant.”

“I cannae, Mammie. I love her.”

That did it.

Akira laughed outright while a blush burned her face to the tips of her ears. Aileen forcefully pulled Andrew off and dropped him to his feet beside her. “Ye can love her from a distance.”

The boy snuggled into his mother’s skirts then gave Akira a tiny wave before sticking his thumb in his mouth. The boy had far too many teeth for such a habit and Akira knew, with nary a doubt, lil’ Andrew had been coddled.

“Forgive them, m’lady.” Aileen pleaded then lowered her eyes. “I fear our children lack discipline. Alec and I have, by far, the most ill-mannered litter within the walls o’ Cànwyck.”

“I think they are wonderful. All of them.” She gave Aileen a gentle hug then bent to pop a kiss atop Andrew’s pug nose. She wanted very much to have a friend in this foreign place, and Aileen seemed a decent prospect.

“Have ye anyone to help prepare ye for the ceremony, m’lady?” Aileen asked.

“Elsbeth awaits her,” Calin informed coolly from behind her.

Akira ground her teeth while continuing to smile at Aileen. “I am sure to need more than one maid to help prepare me.”

Aileen eagerly hustled Andrew around her swollen abdomen to Alec’s side then accepted Akira’s extended hand. Andrew popped his thumb out and gave his father a shamed look. “Da, she is not feisty. She’s bonnie.”

In a flush of mortification, Alec herded his bairns back into the bailey, leaving his blushing wife in Akira’s hands.

If she received such warm greetings from all the kinfolk, she would settle very nicely here. She interlocked elbows with Aileen, and the women started to ascend the path to the keep.

Calin called them to a halt. “Akira, might I have a word afore we part ways?”

She studied him. His manner had transformed the moment they passed through the barbican. He emanated a regal bearing—dignified, authoritative and proud. Part of her sought to be the reason for that pride.

She walked back to him, no longer intimidated by his size, and looked into his strong eyes. “Aye, m’laird?”

Calin curled a loose tendril of hair behind her ear and pressed his lips to her cheek. She felt his breath in her ear. “Ye are smiling.”

Akira stood in her wedding gown before the looking glass and didn’t recognize the person staring back at her. Three rays of golden light fluttered in through the arrow-slit windows and illuminated the yellow bodice hanging modestly off her shoulders. A chiffon cape flowed in wisps behind her back making her feel ethereal. The remainder of the gown hugged her ample curves with a French silk train trailing the floor like melted butter. Ebony braids and curls gathered into a six-pointed headdress encrusted with rubies.

The damp scent of wildflowers permeated the chamber from her bath. Aileen and Elsbeth had catered to her every need. Not an ounce of her lacked for attention—from the floral creams used to moisturize her skin to the mint leaf placed on her tongue.

Akira traced the contours of the gown over her breasts and thought the seamstress must be gifted with magic. For the first time in her entire life, she felt beautiful.

Wishing she didn’t care, she hoped Calin would be pleased. She now wanted the alliance as much as he did and knew this wedding served a greater purpose, but a part of her wanted this day to be special. She’d saved herself for her wedding night, and she would afford herself a few dreams even if the reality of their union destroyed those dreams on the morrow. Soon enough she would be no more than a woman to bear his heirs.

“Our laird will surely lose his heart when ye grace his vision,” Aileen said in a breathy voice.

Elsbeth added the final article to Akira’s ensemble—a sash of blue and green plaid draped diagonally over her right shoulder then pinned loosely at her hip. The weaver designed the sash to match the one Calin would wear during the ceremony, a symbol of their union. Elsbeth smoothed the creases. “I fear our laird has already lost his heart.”

Akira wondered if she would ever possess a part of Calin’s heart.

She graciously held Elsbeth’s soft hands. “Thank ye for your labors on the gown. ’Tis beautiful.”

“What you wear, m’lady, is mere threads. It is you who makes the gown beautiful,” Elsbeth mumbled in a weak voice and lowered sheepish hazel eyes.

Akira smiled while examining the young woman’s fragile demeanor. Unlike Aileen, who endlessly chattered, Elsbeth portrayed a more docile manner. What few words she did speak lacked any hint of the Highland burr. A tight red-gold braid fell to the middle of her back and her pristine clean garments were modest. Holding her hand, Akira noticed the bloodstains speckling her fingertips from multiple pinpricks. But what intrigued her more were the faint remnants of bruises on her wrists and forearms, and the yellow tint of an aged bruise alongside her high cheekbones. Why would such a timid woman carry such marks? And especially one with child?

“Elsbeth, do ye stay in the keep or have ye a family?” Akira queried nonchalantly, wanting to know more about her.

“I live outside the bailey with my husband, Ian, and my son.”

“So ye already have one child. Ye and your husband must be excited about the arrival of your second.” A wave of excitement fluttered through her with the question as always did when discussing children. It seemed more than half the women in the clan were with child. Which didn’t surprise her. If the other men were aught like their laird, they were certain to be a randy breed.

When Elsbeth didn’t return her smile, Akira knew she’d overstepped her bounds. Elsbeth really wasn’t showing to the degree anyone might notice, but Akira had seen her hand flatten over her stomach at least twice while the woman had dressed her.

Elsbeth caressed her stomach. “I am not very far along. Ian does not yet know.”

“I’m certain he will be overjoyed,” Akira assured her.

“I am sure he will be…I must go. Ian waits for me.”

While Elsbeth gathered her sewing supplies, Akira noticed her trembling. “Ye are not attending the wedding?” Her tone reflected her genuine disappointment.

“I was called to finish the gown and prepare you, m’lady. Now I must return to my family.”

“But I insist ye stay for the wedding.”

“Much thanks, m’lady, but I really must decline.” Elsbeth didn’t return eye contact when she walked to the door. She paused to address Aileen, her words barely audible. “Ian needs to be the first to know that I carry his child. I would ask for your silence until then.”

“Aye, Elsbeth. I wouldnae say aught,” Aileen offered quickly.

Elsbeth left the chamber, closing the door behind her. Akira would seek her out and find out where those bruises came from. As Lady of Cànwyck Castle, she intended to make one of her duties to oversee the protection of the womenfolk. The power to help the women of Clan Kinnon had never been within her reach.

That was not the case here.

A rustling came from the corridor followed by a swift kick to the bottom of the door. Already nervous, Akira jumped. Aileen frowned, but quickly waddled to open the door. Aileen’s balled fist landed on her hips, and Akira wondered if all women struck that pose naturally. Aileen was quietly scolding whoever stood on the other side of the entranceway.

Akira smiled when Andrew pushed around his mother’s skirts completely oblivious to Aileen’s tongue-lashing. He carried two satchels—one blue, one green.

“But, Mammie, I bring gifts for—”

“Dinnae ‘but Mammie’ me, ’tis—”

“Aileen, let the boy speak.”

Turning toward her, Andrew’s blue eyes slowly widened in awe and his arms fell loose to his sides. A flush of warmth washed over her cheeks from the innocent flattery. If only Calin would look at her like that, she might be less apprehensive about their marriage bed. “Have ye something for me, Andrew?”

Andrew nodded and held out the satchels. “A bridegift. M’laird said bring ye these and dinnae leave till ye smile.” Akira took the satchels from him, after which he spread his legs, crossed his pudgy arms over his chest, and adamantly waited. The once peaceful expression on his face hardened with the duty Calin had bestowed upon him.