Highland Dragon (5 page)

Kendrick shook his head and threw his hands in the air, causing a flurry of feathers to tickle Calin’s nose. “Weel, I can assure ye that wouldnae go weel at all, but ye have to trust the lass. She is smart and cares a great deal about her kin. She knows how important it is to have strong allies for protection. We’ve kin in the Lowlands that were slaughtered just last year by those English dogs. She hates the English as much as any other hot-blooded Scot and wouldnae want that fate for anyone in our clan. Ye’ll at least tell her your intention to marry her.”

“Give me time.” Calin shoved another bird into Kendrick’s empty hands and gestured for him to pluck.

“Ye’ve had eighteen years. She has known and respected ye as her benefactor the whole o’ her life. Ye are like a king in her eyes. She has been loyal and protected ye when her sisters mocked ye. For the love o’ Scots, the lass saved every missive ye ever sent.”

Calin grinned knowing he’d done the same. Every rock, feather, stick, and drawing was locked safely away in an antechamber at Cànwyck Castle.

“Ye cannae keep her from speakin’ to me, and I’ll not lie to her if she asks why ye came to her aid.”

Calin stopped gutting a plucked bird long enough to offer him a threatening glare. “Ye will say naught. I’ll tell her when she has food in her belly and calms down a wee bit from her ordeal.”

Kendrick snorted. “Think ye this will happen with Akira? The lass does not know what calm is.” Kendrick stopped pulling feathers long enough to study Calin as if he were deciphering some riddle. “Do ye fear she will deny ye?”

Deny me?
He hesitated just a bit before dismissing the thought straightaway. He pointed the sharp tip of his bloody
sgian dubh
at Kendrick’s nose to emphasize his statement. “I fear naught. I am laird and a warrior. No mere woman can strike fear in me, especially one who has belonged to me since birth.”

Kendrick snorted yet again and Calin sorely wanted to stuff grouse innards up his snickering nose.

“Dinnae be arrogant, MacLeod. Ye know as weel as I, she can oppose the alliance because of her blood ties to Laird Kinnon. She holds as much power as ye, my friend. She is the heir to Clan Kinnon and the only one who can sanction the power o’ chieftainship.”

“She is too smart. ’Tis why ye must give me time. If I tell her Laird Kinnon is her father, it will not take her long to figure out she can choose her own husband. Then she will know she does not have to marry me. ’Twould be foolish of ye to tell her the truth now that we have waited so long.”

“Tell her the truth and let her choose ye as husband.”

Calin shook his head. He would not give Akira a chance to deny him, nor would he be made a fool of by another woman. “Once I make her my wife, I will hold power over her. I will tell her the truth after we consummate the marriage. When she carries my heir, she will understand the necessity of protecting our clans.”

“That’s your plan?” Kendrick looked at him as if he had two heads. “Woo her, bed her, then tell her she is the daughter o’ the most vile mon she has e’er known? Ye are addlebrained. Your union will be based on lies. She’ll never trust ye after that.”

“Aye, but she trusts ye. Ye are her brother, and she’ll listen to reason from ye.” Calin lifted his brows and wiped a feather from his nose with his forearm. He handed Kendrick the gutted bird for washing then flung the blood and muck from his hands.

“She trusts me now, but I fear the lass’s faith in me will slip when she learns I’ve lied to her the whole of her life, even if it was to protect her.”

“I know ye despise your laird for what he did to Vanora and Neala. The man’s crime has festered on ye like a rotting wound for a decade. I have nursed my hatred for him twice that long. If I am forced to tell Akira anything about the alliance prior to our vows, I will tell her what the bastard did to your kin. Then she’ll seek the same vengeance as ye and I. My only fear is that she’ll act on it as we have not.”

Kendrick nodded his agreement, but remained silent. Calin struggled with the same regrets. Cowardice weighed on a warrior’s pride.

Too much was at stake to trust her with the truth of her lineage just yet. He would not afford her the opportunity to endanger those living in his clan or stand in the way of fulfilling the vow he made to his father. “I ask for your silence until I feel the time is right to tell her. My father promised Lena he would protect her daughter. I mean to uphold that promise. I’ll not allow Akira to endanger herself by confronting that monster. He has nay soul and would kill her just as he intended eighteen years ago. Then there would be nay one to transfer the title of laird unto ye, Kendrick. She must be protected.”

Kendrick picked up the dressed birds. “I’ll give ye the eve to tell her of your union before I tell her myself. With or without your permission, as I dinnae need it.”

Akira kneaded the aches out of her bum and lower back while helping her new companion gather kindling for the fire. She was grateful to be free of the man who’d taken possession of her. She knew nothing about this Calin MacLeod, other than he needed a bath. Of course, she couldn’t hold that against him. She was in dire need of a good scouring as well.

The evening hadn’t improved with the MacLeod’s scowling guard. After he’d tended to the horses and the fire was ablaze, she made an effort to be congenial. “Have ye a name, sir?” When he didn’t reply, she tried again. “’Tis good the rain has stopped.”

Not even a grunt.

“How long afore we reach our borders?”

Nothing. Not a shrug of his shoulders, a curious glance, a snort. He knelt and cupped his hands out to the flames. Akira tried again in the Gaelic tongue. Then French. Try as she did, he refused polite conversation. Was he mute? Deaf? Dumb?

Crouched at the fire’s side with his elbows resting on his knees, the man completely ignored her questions. Frustration picking at her patience, she leaned in close. “Have ye nay tongue?”

His stoic expression faltered and he tossed her a look—a menacing look.
So he isn’t deaf, just rude.
She refused to waste time on him and left him to his duties. She found olive oil soap and a shell comb in Kendrick’s saddlebag. When she turned around, the man stood directly in front of her with his arms crossed over his chest, looking down his hawk-like nose at her.

“I am going to the brook,” she offered and walked around him, but his footsteps crunched behind her. She spun on her boot heel and poked her index finger into his breastbone. “I dinnae know what your orders were, but I can assure ye, I need nay guard to watch over me while I tend to my ablutions.”

She waited for him to back down, which took longer than she expected, then walked unattended to the brook.

Akira bathed in the brisk water, washing the squalid memories of
Tigh Diabhail
from every inch of her body. After giving her hair equal attention, she was content with her cleanliness, but now wished for a proper sark. She worked at the laces, tightening them as modestly as one could with such a flimsy shift. The material would better serve as a fishing net than an undergarment. She’d never worn anything so indecent in her life. A dozen ribbons fastened the shift from midbreast to just below her navel, and only three ribbons secured each side together. She fashioned the MacLeod’s plaid around her waist then held the wool over her shoulder with his clan brooch. Noting the intricacy of the etched bull’s head, she stroked the gold.

Her family had never known such finery. The wool of his plaid was as soft as doeskin and undoubtedly heavier than both her threadbare kirtles. Clan MacLeod was a wealthy clan. Why would Kendrick solicit them to come to her aid? Why not bring the Kinnon warriors? Of course, mayhap he tried and failed.
Tigh Diabhail
was on MacLeod soil. Kendrick must have had no choice, but why would a MacLeod care a morsel about the well-being of a Kinnon? She’d heard Clan MacLeod had recently come under the reign of a new chieftain. Word traveled on the wind in the Highlands. Mayhap the new chieftain was trying to mend the strife between their clans.

Determined to question Kendrick upon her return to camp, Akira combed through an abundance of black wavy tangles until the masses dried. Feeling rejuvenated, she picked a few sprigs of
siùcair
blossoms and a skirt full of red currant berries along the way. The men wouldn’t be the only ones to provide food. Ignoring the knifelike pain in her stomach, she vowed not to eat even one berry until she returned to camp.

Her stomach growled—a mean vibrating noise she felt clear to her toes.

Who was she trying to fool? A handful of tart currants slid down her throat as she scurried up the foothill.

When she neared camp, the smoky aroma of fresh-cooked meat reached her nose. Her knees quivered when she saw the five men feasting on roasted grouse. She licked her lips and stared at the wild fowl sizzling over the fire. At least a month’s time had passed since she’d tasted meat of any sort. She spilled the berries and
siùcair
blossoms into the lap of the man who ignored her pleasantries earlier and gawked at the cooked bird like a mangy wolf eyeing a lone sheep.

Calin lifted the skewer from the fire. Grease dripped into the flames and hissed on the coals. “Ye hungry, lass?”

“Ye know I am.” Akira fisted her empty palms, but could do nothing more than stand in front of him like a starving dog awaiting his scraps. If he took one bite from
her
bird, she feared she would eat his hand. “Ye said ye would feed me. Is that my fare you’re holding?”

“Aye. Come, sit, and fill your empty belly.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. She sat beside him with the intent to devour every juicy morsel clean off the bone. The questions for Kendrick could wait until later. The first bite melted on her tongue, and she closed her eyes and moaned. Mayhap the MacLeod wasn’t so awful after all.

Calin watched how ravenously she enjoyed her food. She played havoc on his senses. His eyes fixed on the sheen of grease the meat left on her lips. Her sweet and heady fragrance tempted his nose, and the moans vibrating from her throat with every savory bite had him wishing she dined on him.

His muscles clenched and his blood rushed to his loins.

This arousing attraction caught him unguarded. He’d spent the majority of his life knowing he would marry to protect his clan. The fact he found his bride extremely desirable came as a pleasant surprise. Part of him always questioned whether he’d be able to conceive an heir with the woman whose sire murdered his father, but Akira was not Laird Kinnon. She hadn’t been raised by him, nor influenced by him. She was innocent of her father’s sins. He couldn’t count how many times he’d repeated this statement in his head over the years trying to convince himself it was true.

He intended to press the alliance with the Kinnons quickly, but he needed a bit more time to woo his bride. Her blue eyes studied him between bites, and he recognized a hint of stubbornness. Undoubtedly, one eve was not going to be enough time for her to warm to the idea of being his wife, but it was all Kendrick seemed willing to give him.

After the bones of her fare had been picked clean, Akira’s eyes followed the juicy bird leg he was about to savor. He didn’t have the heart to take the bite. She’d eaten like a woman who hadn’t seen a crumb in days and would nary a doubt ache in the gut for it, but the lass obviously thought she was still hungry. When he offered her the meat, she shook her head and lowered her lashes.

“Eat it, lass.” He put the leg in her empty hand.

“Thank ye. ’Tis verra good,” was all she said before biting into the meat. He couldn’t keep his gaze from lingering on her lips and was shocked when those lips curved into a bashful smile.

“I trust we’ll go our separate ways at first light and bid ye much thanks for your help in my retrieval. I need to return quickly to my family.”

“’Twill take two more days before we reach our homelands, and ye and Kendrick will be better protected traveling with MacLeod men.”

Akira used the back of her hand to wipe her lips. “Ye’ve just disbursed a rather wealthy sum for my safety, for which I am verra grateful. But, I am not fool enough to believe ye expect naught in return. I’d like to end any claims ye might feel ye have to my person here and now. We will part ways on the morrow, and Kendrick will see that your siller is reimbursed.”

Kendrick almost choked on a bone. Calin wasn’t the only one shocked by this statement. Unwilling to give her brother any leeway in the conversation, Calin rushed to speak. “Are ye of such financial independence ye’ve five hundred groats at your disposal?”

Pride lifted her blue eyes, along with her chin. “The queries may take time, but I have a benefactor who’ll be pleased to know I’ve been rescued. I’m confident he will graciously send funds by month’s end.”

Calin forced his teeth together to keep his laughter caged. Kendrick opened his mouth, but Calin cut him off before he could explain the error of her statement. “Then if we are to part ways on the morrow, might we enjoy the pleasure of each other’s company tonight?”

Akira eyed him cautiously, then studied Kendrick with a curious look. “Though I suspect I may regret it, I see nay harm in obliging ye for the eve. Since ye’ve fed me and provided me with a warm plaid—even if ’tis your plaid. Howbeit, I am certain your men are not fit to be called pleasurable company. Truth be told, I fear their new laird may have cut out their tongues.” Akira laughed aloud and paid no heed to the somber gazes of his men.

“And why would ye make such an absurd remark?”

“Weel, first and foremost, ye are MacLeods. If that is not reason enough, then I think the fact I’ve yet to hear them speak is a strong second argument.”

Calin smiled with a broad-faced grin. “They can speak when spoken to.”

“But I spoke to that one earlier…” Akira pointed at a tall, brooding redhead perched atop a decaying log, “…and he dinnae respond in any of the languages I spoke to him in. So he’s either rude or has nay tongue. Or mayhap both.” She gave the man a piercing look of disapproval.

Calin had asked for his men’s silence in her presence until he informed her of his intent to marry her. They’d honored his request. Even Jaime’s tongue remained unmoving, which was a most difficult task for his cousin. Overly proud of his men’s conduct, Calin crossed his arms over his puffed chest. “I can assure ye, he has a tongue, but he’ll not use it unless given permission to do so.”

“Permission? Are ye insane? Permission from whom?”

“From his laird.”

“What kind of barbarian would send his mon on a quest with nay permission to speak? Is your new laird so dim of wit he would deny the mon speech because of some foolish loyalty?” Akira shook her head, and muttered more insults under her breath. Insults directed at him since he was the new chieftain of Clan MacLeod. He found no reason to hide that fact from her. Mayhap she would show him a wee bit of respect if he revealed his status.

A trace of sarcasm laced his next query. “Gordon, is your laird a dimwitted barbarian?”

“Nay.”

He laughed at the sweet and innocent shock that enveloped her features. That is, until one winged brow arched. “Are ye the new laird o’ Clan MacLeod?” she asked, giving him a sidelong look.

“Aye,” Calin said quietly.

Akira pressed her fingers to her temples. “Forgive me, m’laird. I dinnae know.” She glared at her brother, who sipped whisky from a silver flask.

Calin caught Kendrick’s sympathetic look and feared he might one day understand it. Akira Neish was going to be difficult to woo.

Calin scooped a handful of rosehip berries from where Gordon had dumped them then snapped off a sprig of
siùcair
blossoms. He sucked the nectar from the septum and tucked the yellow flower behind her ear. She flinched when his finger lingered over the outer edge of her ear, then the sweetest blush stained her cheeks. He reached for her small hand and dropped a few berries into her palm. “Enough about me. Tell me more about this benefactor of yours.”

“Ye mean in reference to whether he can be trusted to return your siller?”

“Aye. Is he trustworthy?”

“I suspect he is.”

“And does he treat ye weel?”

“Verra weel. He’s generous with his monies, but in truth, I have yet to meet him. Kendrick says he will be good to me, and I trust my brother’s opinion.”

Calin dipped his head in approval toward Kendrick. “So your…benefactor, what do ye presume are his intentions for ye?”

“I suspect he wants a wife to maintain his holdings and see to personal matters of finance. ’Tis important to him that I am weel-educated. This leads me to believe he will be content with my intelligence, which is to my benefit, since I lack in qualities of face. Truth be known, I am not certain why he chose me over my sisters. He’s sure to be disappointed when he realizes he’s getting the raven when he could’ve had a dove.” Akira’s chin lowered to her chest and her gaze fell to the red berries in her hand.

The raven?
Was the woman wowf? How could she possibly think herself less beautiful than any one of her sisters? “I am certain he’ll not be disappointed.”

Akira shrugged her shoulders.

Since Kendrick scrutinized his every move as though he were an English spy, Calin decided to save explanations of her beauty for a more private moment. For now, he focused on the subject of her education. “Ye consider yourself weel-educated?”

Her head popped up and she answered brightly. “Verra much so. I speak three languages and Mam tells me I’m a walking abacus.”

“I counted four.”

Akira laughed. The sound of her merriment, and the way her smile brightened the sapphires of her eyes, tickled Calin’s senses. He inched closer, ignoring her brother’s threatening gaze. Kendrick looked ready to end the farce when Akira began chattering again.

“The fourth language ye heard, my sisters and I made up when we were younger. Only my family understands it.”

“How did ye come by your education?” Calin asked, though he already knew the answer.

“When I was eight, Kendrick sent me to Beauly Priory.”

“Nay,” Kendrick corrected. “’Twas your
benefactor
who sent ye there. Not I.”

Only after giving Kendrick a sour look of disgust, did Akira return her attention to him. “As I was saying, my benefactor sent me to the priory in Inverness. Sister Esa taught me to read and write when I was just eight. When the Prioress gave me reprieve from kitchen duties, I studied in the library. After nigh two years, the Abbot nay longer felt I deserved the same education as those who had taken their vows and assigned me to the stables. I borrowed a few books and came home.”

“A few?” Kendrick interrupted in an accusatory tone. “Ye pulled a cart behind that auld nag ye brought home.”

“Mayhap more then,” she confessed. “Ye shouldnae complain. I taught ye to read and write from those books. Besides, they werenae using them at the priory, and my benefactor sent ample funds for my education which the Abbot spent on frivolous luxuries for himself. Nay mon o’ God needs gold rings to adorn every finger or whisky to fill his cupboards.”