Highland Dragon (17 page)

“Twins?” Calin interrupted. Isobel had been two months old when he took Akira to Kendrick.

“Aye.” Akira defended sternly. “Just because we are not identical like the Ionas makes us nay less connected. We were born on the same day. Mam says we rub each other’s ears because we share a soul. The twins tickle each other’s palms. Isobel and I rub each other’s ears. I couldnae possibly do this to ye. How could ye possess something given to my sister upon our birth?”

“Ye mean to tell me ye rub Isobel’s ear, because ye believe she shares your soul.” Calin snorted at her.

“Dinnae laugh at me, or I’ll turn ye into a toad,” Akira taunted playfully.

“Dinnae tease, Akira. Do ye believe this? And if ye do, why would ye do this to me?”

“I know not. Mam filled our heads with such stories when we were but wee ones.” She crawled onto his lap then smoothed the lines of tension from the corners of his eyes. “I think I rub your ear, because I want ye to make love to me,” Akira cooed and slipped her hand into his
léine
shirt to toy with his chest.

Lusty wench.
Calin squeezed her bottom, forcing her legs wider around his hips. When she rubbed herself against him, his brain nearly shut down. Still, he was unable to rid himself of the mystery. “Tell me what your mother told ye. She has a theory behind this ear rubbing.”

“’Tis foolish,” Akira said while she kissed his neck.

“I’ll determine if ’tis foolish. Tell me.”

Akira blew a breath. “Mam says when a child is born, their soul awaits them outside their mother’s womb. In the case where there is only one child, the soul easily finds its way into that child’s body. But in the instance of twins, the soul must split to allow both babes to have life.” Akira giggled. “Mam says sometimes a soul gets confused and will split even when there is only one child. Giving half to the babe and half to the person who would love them throughout eternity. Of course, they have to be present at the time of birth to receive the soul. Mam used a term she claimed to have coined.” Akira tapped her chin, trying to recollect. “I remember. Mam said that person was the child’s soul mate.”

Calin jerked back, his mind a blur of confusion. He was there when Akira was born. The story her mother wove was preposterous. He didn’t believe in soul mates. His heart started to pound. His head exploded with old memories. The lifeless body of his father still branded on his brain. A tiny babe nestled at her mother’s breast. He’d thought about her every day his entire life. He was possessive of her. And protective of her. And jealous of anyone who received her affection.

By the saints, I am in love with her!
Warriors didn’t fall in love. He had a duty unto his people to protect the clan. This duty didn’t require him to fall in love with his wife. In fact, his responsibilities demanded that he not become distracted by her. This emotion would only weaken him. He’d watched his father die because of his love for a woman. He’d be damned if he’d allow Akira to coerce him into such a folly.

“Hell and damnation!” He pushed her off him and instantly condemned himself for believing such a fairy tale.

“Dinnae be angry with me,” she hollered at his fleeing back. He stormed out of the solar in a fury, leaving her to dwell on his mood.

“Crivons.”

She started to follow, then decided if he wanted to be addlebrained about the whole ordeal with Jaime, she would let him stew. The afternoon games would soon begin, and she needed to make herself more presentable. Especially if she intended to meet with the elders. Stepping into the corridor, she found two young maids. In white smocks, they were dressed alike with copper hair tucked beneath linen coifs. They matched Akira in height, but were both slender in frame. Both bowed their heads and splayed their skirts in perfect curtsies.

“Forgive me for speaking without permission, m’lady. We are your maids. I am Evie, and this is me older sister, Tara.”

“I am Akira,” she offered mechanically, as she’d introduced herself at least a hundred times the previous day. She hoped she was near to meeting everyone. Remembering the names of every clan member was going to be near impossible.

“Aye, m’lady, we know.”

Akira laughed at herself this time. Everyone knew her. She was the one who had to acquaint herself with the servants, the
mesnie,
the stewards. “Please forgive me. Have ye any idea what I am to wear to the games?”

The maids circled around her into the chamber. Evie stepped into an anteroom and presented Akira with an array of finery. Granted, half the garments were plaid
arisaids,
but the others were gowns of silk embellished with lace—garments more fashionable of England than those of the Highlands. Evie swung her hand wide over the assortment. “Ye may choose, m’lady.”

Akira’s interest strayed as she studied the chamber for the first time in a different light. The luxurious décor reflected a feminine style. Whitewashed stones brightened the chamber filled with ornately engraved furniture. In addition to the stool next to the hearth sat a settee upholstered in mauve damask. Pink floral paintings decorated a washbasin next to a privately placed chamber pot. The solar was as big as her family’s cot-house. Walking to the dressing table, she picked up a gilded brush then noted a dozen different perfume bottles lining the top. Unable to resist, she pulled the stopper from a cool lavender crystal and held the fragrance beneath her nose. Akira’s eyes fell shut as she inhaled the exotic aroma. A smile lifted the corners of her lips. “Who does this solar belong to?”

“’Tis your solar now, m’lady. And everything in it belongs to ye.” The maid named Evie displayed an eager grin. “If the scented water pleases ye, ye might want to tickle your eyes on the contents o’ the top drawer.”

Akira pulled two ivory knobs to open a thin drawer just below the tabletop. This was the closest she’d ever come to an actual swoon. Secured on rose silk lining were three jeweled necklaces—the first, diamond, the second, ruby, and the third, sapphire. In addition, there were a multitude of bracelets, earbobs, and pendants, all encrusted in gemstones, and all suitable for a queen. She was in awe and felt unworthy of the display.

Akira looked at the maids, hoping her eyes weren’t as wide as they felt. “These are…mine?”

“’Tis all yours, m’lady. The perfume, the gowns, the jewels.” Evie stepped away from the wardrobe to open two adjoining doors connecting to Calin’s chamber. “This solar belongs to the Lady o’ Cànwyck Castle.”

Akira stood in the archway between the two chambers and noted Calin’s solar had been flawlessly cleaned. The wooden bowl of berries was gone, along with the crystal goblets, and the bed was neatly made. She then scanned the white laced bed in the other chamber—her solar. “Am I expected to sleep in here?”

Both maids snickered and covered their naughty smiles behind their hands. “’Tis your business where ye sleep, m’lady.”

Akira cocked one eyebrow, scrutinizing them carefully. If anyone knew the happenings of the keep, it would be the servants. “But I presume ’twill quickly become your business, as weel, when ye check to see if my bed has need of making.” As she spoke, Akira sauntered to the bed to select one of the multicolored pillows decorating the bolster.

“I doubt your bed will have need o’ makin’ for quite some time, m’lady.” Evie flashed pearly white teeth.

“Evie!” The scolding came from the passive maid named Tara.

Akira didn’t try to hide her bashful grin. Already, she liked this Evie. She was bold, and outspoken, and a lot like her. “We are certain to spend a great deal of time together. We must not be so formal. Now, how long have ye resided in the keep?”

“The laird took us in five years ago when our father died at battle. We helped in the kitchens then, as we were only twelve.”

Akira crossed the chamber to trail a finger over the well-polished dressing table. “Who did this solar belong to before I came?”

“The laird’s wife.”

Akira almost fell over. Calin was previously married? She had to start asking him more questions. “How did she die?”

“She is not dead.” Evie grinned.

Akira’s demeanor faltered then, but before she could ask another question, Tara took a step forward. “Our former laird, your husband’s uncle, is still married, and moved to the east tower last year when your husband took over chieftainship. This solar belonged to your husband’s mother prior to that who died a sennight after his birth. My younger sister is being a trickster, and if we dinnae serve ye with respect, ye may choose to have us replaced.” With this final statement, Tara glared at her sister.

Akira blew a relieved breath then walked to stand in front of Evie. “Mayhap I’ll have
her
replaced, since she cannae be trusted to be loyal.”

Evie’s face fell, and her light gray eyes filled with remorse. “Please, m’lady, a thousand apologies. I had heard ye were spirited and only meant to tease for a moment. Forgive me, I’ve been foolish and offer my undying loyalty if ye choose to keep me on.”

Akira smiled and hugged Evie. “I was just toying with ye. I should, nay doubt, keep ye on my good side. Ye could prove to be a verra valuable friend.”

Evie beamed at the inept compliment and hugged her back. “I’d like verra much to be your friend, m’lady.”

“Now. Tara, ye will choose a gown. And, Evie, ye will tell me everything ye know about the new laird.”

Within an hour, the maids had Akira attired in queenly garb. Tara had chosen a ripe-plum gown with ivory sleeves adorned with silver trim. Amethysts ornamented a boned bodice, sloped provocatively into a square neckline. The skirt hugged her hips and gathered at the base of her back where a train dragged the floor.

Akira stood before a full-length looking glass, smiling her approval. Tara returned to the dressing table and reopened the jewelry drawer. “Would ye like to choose, m’lady?”

“That one.” Akira pointed to a simple chain with a silver cross holding a single amethyst in its center.

Tara agreed then clasped the circlet behind her neck. While the maids remained at attention, Akira pulled the stopper from the exotic scented perfume then trailed a line down her neck. When she returned the bottle, she eyed the gilded brush with avid curiosity. Her black hair now webbed overtop pale blond hair neglectfully left in the bristles. She had met Calin’s aunt and recalled her hair to be a very dark red.

“Have ye need of aught else, m’lady?”

Evie’s words broke her speculation. “Ye’ve done more than enough. I trust I’ll see ye at the games?”

“Aye, m’lady,” Tara and Evie answered in unison. They popped curtsies then scurried to leave.

“Evie, did someone occupy this solar after Calin’s aunt?”

“M’laird’s mistress,” Evie answered quickly and then closed the door behind her.

Calin hadn’t uttered nary a word to her since his ridiculous outburst, nor had he retired to his solar the previous night. Akira had waited for him, fighting much-needed rest. But sleep-deprived, and exhausted from the ongoing celebration, she lost the battle in the small hours of the night. She awoke alone in his bed and determined he still sulked over the incident with Jaime. That conclusion had been easier to accept than the possibility of him retiring to another chamber with his
mistress.

After worrying herself into blotches, Akira had forced herself to attend the second day of games. Though she’d been nervous about attending the festivities without Calin at her side, she’d found an ally in his aunt Wanda. The woman was forthright in her instructions, but Akira quickly grew to appreciate the older woman’s wisdom. Her role as Lady of Cànwyck Castle felt less daunting after an afternoon spent under Wanda’s tutelage. She intended to make Calin proud to call her wife on this day, and if that failed, she would at least begin the task of gaining the respect and loyalty of his kinfolk. A daunting effort, considering jealousy caused her to mentally question which of the many women had been Calin’s mistress.

Evie and Tara dressed her for the final day’s activities in a scarlet overdress. A gold bodice cinched tightly in the waist hugged her curves more than the gown she’d worn the day before. Akira decided to take Wanda’s advice and send for Elsbeth to tailor the gowns more suitably to her shape. For today, she added a matching twill ruanna, fastening the folds above her breast with a Celtic brooch. Evie pinched color into Akira’s cheeks while Tara secured the last pearl-tipped pin to create an elegant braid all around her head.

Akira didn’t question the maids further about Calin’s mistress, as she was sure she didn’t want details from them. But she intended to discuss the topic in detail with her husband, just as soon as he broke his silence. If that moment didn’t present itself soon, however, she would confide in his aunt Wanda.

The festivities continued as they had the day before, and Akira was pleased with her dignified performance as she presented the winners with a ribbon and a chaste kiss. This not only included the young lad who shot the straightest arrow, but Alec and Aileen’s youngest lass, Lexi, whose bullfrog outmaneuvered her competitors over a battleground of leaves and muck. Though Akira felt no remorse for her impropriety with Jaime, she sensed Calin’s undeserved anger each time she awarded his warriors for their victories.

However, today she wasn’t the only one glaring at his behavior. A battalion of MacLeod kinswomen came to her defense with crossed arms and puckered brows. Obviously his distant behavior hadn’t gone unnoticed. Wanda’s scowl could scare the hair off the burliest Highlander and Akira couldn’t help but smile when Calin tucked his chin to his chest like a scorned boy.

A man, stout in size and odor, reigned undefeated in the swine chase. This man, who answered to Angus, pinned the peach-colored pig into the crook of his arm. Both the pig and Angus were mud encrusted from head to hoof. Wearing a snaggletooth grin, he proudly approached the dais where Akira stood, ribbon in hand. After tucking his award into his belt, Angus pulled her flatly against him then planted a muddy kiss on her mouth. With a smirk, he released the swine into her arms. “Fer yer next meal, m’lady.”

Fortunately for Akira, the pig was already vexed. The animal dove from her arms to scamper off the dais, escaping between the ankles of spectators. One of whom was her husband, whose speculative glare and matching frown told her more than she cared to know about his disapproval.

Calin watched the scene dutifully. Knowing how Akira disliked being sullied, he wasn’t surprised when she removed her soiled ruanna and accepted a towel from a maid. What did surprise him, in fact infuriated him, was her attire beneath or lack thereof. Her gown had been tailored for a smaller-framed woman, this much he knew. A ruby hung from a teardrop pendant, falling neatly between the shadowy crevice of her breasts which overflowed her bodice. When she bent to hand her ruanna to a young gillie, Calin followed the obvious direction of his warrior’s interests. Irrepressible jealousy surged through him.

The sun descended behind Cànwyck Castle, bringing a slight chill with its shadow. A horn announced the start of the final event. Like a flock of sheep, the kinfolk followed Akira across the landscape to gather around the ring of stones, circumscribing an area twenty feet in diameter. The same he used for training. Two warriors, equal in height, fought within its boundaries. No weapons were allowed, only their strength. When any part of the man’s body fell outside the stones, another stepped in to challenge. Ten, twenty, thirty men found their way in and out of the circle.

At present, the contender was Lyel Og, an overgrown man with arms the size of tree trunks, but with the face of a child. “Who will challenge?” Lyel Og repeated when no one entered.

Just as he clasped his hands above his head in a victorious gesture, Calin stepped into the ring. “I challenge.”

“Take no insult, m’laird, but ye cannae challenge. ’Twould be disrespectful to strike ye,” a man protested from across the circle.

“’Tis my game, and I give ye all permission to try and best me.”

The faces of his warriors lit with mischief. Calin pushed them to extreme limits in training for battle. At this moment, he sensed he would receive some well-deserved revenge. Still and all, he intended to win. The last ribbon would be his, along with the last kiss.

In truth, he sought more. He wanted her affection, her praise, her admiration. Akira gave her smile to everyone. However, she’d only frowned at him for two days. Granted, he left her in a huff. The foolish story about soul mates had his mind reeling. Now, he regretted losing a night against her body to a temper that landed him in a cold bed by the brewery.

Calin took a stance and outwitted the reigning giant. Ten more challengers followed. Most of them younger lads eager to prove their strength in front of the maidens. Another dozen men passed through the circle, and he began to waver. One eye had swollen shut, and given the opportunity, he would spit a mouthful of blood in any given direction. As he hugged what he was certain was a cracked rib, he debated the sanity behind each battle.

Between each challenge, he glanced at Akira. Her face was closed to emotion, but he sensed her disapproval of his arrogant show of physical prowess. Still, he fought on.

“Is there no one left to challenge?” he asked with arms splayed and a wide grin, tasting victory amid the tinge of his own blood.

“Can we agree our laird is conqueror and deem him worthy o’ the last kiss from our lady? Shall we hail him triumphant?” Gordon’s baritone voice hollered.

“Nay!” Before the assembly could roar their agreement, a young voice denied Calin of victory. Weaving through the crowd, Andrew stepped onto the trampled grasses of the ring—wooden sword in hand and a scowl to make King James proud. “I challenge ye, m’laird.”

Calin peered down with one good eye at the boy and bit the inside of his cheek to stifle his amusement. “This is a warrior’s game, young Andrew.”

Engulfed in Calin’s shadow, Andrew held up his wooden sword. “I am a MacLeod warrior and protector o’ Scotland. And I fight fer m’lady’s honor.”

Calin was further impressed with the boy’s courage. Not to mention, his speech was impeccable for a lad standing slightly higher than his kneecaps. When Aileen ran to retrieve her son, Calin halted her with one hand. He studied Andrew and wished he’d possessed half this much courage at his young age. The boy held a perfect warrior’s stance and appeared ready to run him through. Calin considered his options and decided Andrew set a brave example for any young page wanting to join Calin’s garrison. “This battle is typically fought without weapons, only skill and strength. But considering I am a wee bit bigger than ye, I’ll allow ye use of your sword.”

“Thank ye, m’laird.” This was all the encouragement Andrew needed. With legs braced wide, Andrew swung his mighty sword and caught Calin in the shins. He winced at the contact then lunged for the boy, who escaped between his legs. Before Calin could swivel, Andrew had sheathed his sword and scaled up Calin’s back with the agility of a squirrel. Andrew’s chubby arms clasped around Calin’s neck, and his legs dangled as Calin whirled him around in circles.

Calin slowed enough to see Akira rushing past the bystanders to console Aileen, who looked near to tears at the edge of the ring. Observing them, Calin quickly decided he’d win more affection if he let Andrew best him. Opening his mouth, Calin made a theatrical gurgling noise from his throat. He feigned defeat and collapsed like a fallen stone with Andrew still attached.

Andrew crawled off his back and pushed Calin until he rolled over, his efforts delivered with grunts. The boy then straddled his chest—not one of his toes touched the ground. Calin grabbed him by the head to whisper into his ear, after which Andrew rose, unsheathed his sword, and held the dull tip beneath Calin’s chin. “Do ye give up, m’laird?”

Calin conceded with a nod, thankful the battle ended. He hoped to find Akira smiling at him when he found the strength to stand.

Andrew vaulted off him. “I won! I won!” he chanted and skipped around the circle.

Akira stepped into the ring and tucked the last ribbon into Andrew’s belt. “Congratulations, Andrew. Ye have proven your loyalty to me and to Scotland. Ye are a brave and noble warrior to have slain such a mighty dragon.”

“’Tis not a dragon. ’Tis m’laird.” Andrew looked confused, but gripped both sides of Akira’s face as all the others had done and kissed her firmly on the mouth. “Thank ye for the ribbon, m’lady, but in truth, I only wanted the kiss.” Andrew dashed off with a group of children holding his ribbon out for all to touch.

Calin stood behind her. He gripped her shoulders and bent into her ear. “That was the last kiss ye will place on another mon’s lips, my lady wife. I expect to be rewarded for my efforts accordingly in our solar after ye bid the women a good eve.” He nipped at the rim of her ear and spanked her playfully on the rump before making a hasty retreat to the keep.

Akira whirled around, fully prepared to question his conduct, but he was already halfway up the foothill.
Coward,
she accused with a narrowed eye on his fleeing back. At least he was speaking to her again. Mayhap the hint of mischief in his voice and that love pat to her rump were his way of telling her he wanted to make amends. They would talk about his jealousy before she let him take her to bed. Then, if she had the courage, she would find out where he’d slept the previous night.

Vowing to deal with him sternly, she fanned her hot face and sought out Wanda, Aileen, and the other kinswomen who were clearing tables behind the stables. Little remained of the bounty, save for rinds and crumbs. The sun disappeared behind the grove in the west, leaving only the pink dust of day overhead. The fife ceased, and the laughter of children followed every family back to their cottages. Once the last trestle table had been cleaned and sent back to the Great Hall, she turned to take the path back to the keep, eager to end this foolish quarrel with her husband.

A woman emerging from the woodland caught her eye.

The courtyard was vacant, so Akira donned a cordial smile and awaited her acquaintance. Akira thought she’d been introduced to everyone, but evidently not. This woman was not one who would be easily forgotten. Floating over the lush foliage of the knoll, the woman glowed beneath the fading sun. Beauty and grace surrounded her every step. Flowing pale blond hair bounced at her waist. A slim figure curved neatly into slender hips under a plain ivory gown. No jewels graced her bodice or her neck, nor did she wear a plaid, but the woman carried herself with the dignity of a noble. As she stepped even closer, Akira was mesmerized by the perfection of her face. High cheekbones pointed to a mouth most men would betray their country for. Then Akira looked into a pair of silver eyes. Not a blemish of color hid in the flecks. Foreboding crawled up her spine. Immediately, Akira felt uncomfortable in her presence.

The woman embraced her in a cold hug. When she spoke, her teeth sparkled. “You must be Calin’s new wife. ’Tis such an honor to finally meet you.”

“I am Akira. And ye are?”

The woman’s smile broadened when she brushed her long blond locks over her shoulder. “I am the laird’s mistress, Catriona.”