The Laird's Right (17 page)

“Will I be snatched away?” Her question bounced off the walls.

“I could fail. I may not be able to protect you then what?” His face whitened. He gulped.

“You are afraid.”

He flinched. “Nay, just sensible. Look at what has happened to you. You lost the man you loved and aye, I know you loved him. I saw the pain of his loss grace your face. You bear the scars of his lost love.”

“These scars come for an evil man who cannot love. Do you truly wish for a life empty of such an emotion?”

“Naught if I can avoid it, however, I do not wish for the pain that comes from losing you. That could happen. Mackintosh plans to kill you, along with the baron. Disease could take you or as many women depart from this plane, childbirth. I fear the man I will become if I lose the woman I love.” He reached for her. “I shall always care for you.”

With a weakness and a deep yearning, she almost allowed his touch and only pulled back, remembering herself.

“You think to throw away my love then offer me scant comfort. I do not want it. Save it for those in need.”

Alec bowed his head then turned and left the room. She flinched at the hollow click of the lock falling into place. She didn’t throw herself on the bed and weep. Stephen had gladly accepted her love and returned it as freely whereas Alec had blocked himself against it.

She went to window and spotted him crossing the bailey. She wanted to heap curses upon his head. Then the heartache of rejection cleared. Alec did love her. He feared losing her and becoming the man he hated.

She must show him that cruelty didn’t exist in him. After all, a man who stood guard over a woman then wed her to keep her safe had to possess a heart capable of love. He was afraid as she had been.

So how did she make the stubborn fool of a man face his fears?

Chapter Thirteen

Alec kicked at the wall. He cursed his father. He learned the lesson he beat into him.

Why did he learn it yet Ailsa did not?

Ailsa never shielded her heart, freely loving all. But him, damn, he could not give it to anyone.

Hell, he wished for nothing more than to love Portia. To see the joy Ailsa wore every day, to feel the happiness Duncan possessed. Though Duncan tried to hide it. Never had he thought to hurt Portia. That was a promise he had given freely when she laid in his arms, fighting for her life.

If anyone deserved love, Portia did. She had opened his world, helped him be the man he was supposed to be, a better man. Was that what he always wanted to be? A better man than his father. He lacked the ability to love. Truth was, if not for her, he would have floundered. He was man enough to admit that. He was an arse.

Needing to work off this simmering anger, he rushed to the training fields. Men crowded the fields, practicing their sword work. He snatched up a training sword. The weight was double of a claymore he kept at his side, just what he needed so he could just collapse and not feel worse than the lowest of men, which he knew he was.

He removed his claymore as he said, “Who will be first to show me what you have learned?” He motioned to the men with the blunt edge of the sword.

The men raised their hands, each crying out to be chosen. Alec pointed the blunt edge to the largest one on the field. “You.”

The others cleared a path for Finn and cuffed him on the back as he swaggered forward.

“Remember. Brawn doesn’t always guarantee a defeat.”

Finn took his stance. His muscles flexed from the weight. His scarcely hair-covered face fixed in hard concentration. “You need to develop your strength.”

The rest of the men chanted his name. Finn nodded then charged at Alec. He sidestepped him and cracked him on his arse with the flat of the blade. “You let me know what you were going to do. Again.”

He swung the sword. Alec shoved him back. “Make me fight your fight.”

He raced forward again. His sword arced over his shoulder to strike a blow. This time, Alec stayed in place. “I’m not a stake. Move, make me move use the space about us.” Alec pushed him back toward the hole in the ground. Finn fell back but he held on to his weapon.

“Use the earth, know the field.” Alec gave him a hand up. “Next.”

This time the boys hesitated. “You come.” Though Braden lacked the brawn of Finn, he was still cut and had developed the muscle to fight for his clan.

Alec rushed him. Braden thrust his sword upward.

“Use your legs,” Alec said.

Braden used more of the space. A sweat broke across Alec’s brow. With one hand Braden held his sword and with the other he swung out his arm, catching Alec in the ribs.

“Use the attack. Never lessen it. Your life depends on it.”

One by one, he fought Cian, Donal, Cathal, and Artan—parrying, thrusting, pushing, punching, kicking—and still he hadn’t burned away his turmoil. His liene was drenched and his hair stuck to his face. He could feel the heat wafting off him. Even without the blood, this training session felt like war.

His body was fatigued, yet his thoughts returned to Portia. She loved him. That he felt a vigor that should have burned away his exhaustion meant nothing. Sure, his father had felt the same way, speaking of his love

Kegan came forward and Alec lost himself in the training. His body burned from the effort. Some of his tension burned away but most still lingered within him. After knocking Leith to the ground, he threw the sword among the others. He made his way to the shore away from the castle.

The loch air blew against him. He shed his clothing and dove beneath the surface. The frigid water cooled him instantly and washed away the grime coating him. The water did nothing to cleanse away his thoughts.

He broke the surface and spotted his commanders standing at the water’s edge. He swam to shore and walked out. He donned his shirt, letting it dry him, and then his plaid.

“Great training today,” Quinlan said.

“So what was the reason behind it?” Hurley crossed his arms over his chest.

“Portia loves me.” He shook off the water weighing down his hair.

“And that’s not great.” Hurley rolled his eyes. Quinlan sucked his teeth.

“You’re always saying you don’t want to be your father.” Quinlan started. “We know your father would have embarrassed those boys, unlike you did. They have become better soldiers for it. What is the real problem?”

“You forget yourself, Quinlan.” The cool authority in his voice belied the rage in his gut.

“It’s you who does, Alec.” Hurley spoke with a frankness that only he could without losing his head.

“What if Portia dies? The danger to her life is great.” He stopped before he revealed the truth. He could not be the man he was, with his heart and life closed off. Portia made him feel. He couldn’t lose that.

“What if she leads a long life and outlives you?” Hurley tossed back in his face.

“Alec, I have seen you face overpowering forces that were sure to pound you into the ground. Yet, you fear the one thing that a Sassenach has faced and after the horrors that were afflicted upon her.”

“Quinlan, shut up.”

“You are denying yourself something that can fulfill your life.”

“Like you are. Cairine and you are in separate beds. Why don’t you go to her and tell her your fears of losing her?”

“Aye, I fear losing her. But I love her. That is enough. That was why she chose me because I loved her whereas you denied her that.”

Alec punched Quinlan in face. Hurley jumped between them before Quinlan landed his own blow.

“Quinlan’s right. Stop with this foolishness and love your wife. And damn to what will be.”

* * * *

Alec strolled up the tract. The castle dominated the vista and his thoughts. The feast was tonight and he had a duty to be at his wife’s side.

“Laird,” Cairine said.

He greeted her and for a couple of steps continued on his way then he turned around and called out to her. She turned around and waited for him to speak.

He cleared his throat. There was no way for him to find the answers he sought without prying so he asked, “Why did you choose Quinlan?”

She slanted her head before she chuckled. “He loves me.”

“And I didn’t.”

She shrugged. “You cared for me, but a lass wants more. Why do you ask, Alec?” She came forward, not letting him escape her question.

He didn’t answer her, instead posed a question of his own. “Then why do you stay away from him? Did your love die?”

Was that his real fear? He had known he had shared more with his father than he cared to admit. The death of his mother changed him too. The loss of love, having it snatched away and feeling the heartbreak froze him, left him hollow. Yet, he had never once felt the loss of his mother’s love. It was still within him as powerful as he had felt as a boy.

“Never.” She was insulted. “My reason for staying away was for my personal pain. One I afflicted upon Quinlan. I don’t know how to correct. I have to do something and I will act.”

“You are sure all will be well after?” He stiffened, waiting for her answer.

“Aye, when one loves someone, you have to accept their flaws and perfections and fix the problems that arise. We will survive this and the next one as well.”

“Is your love worth the pain?”

She gave a low chuckle. “Love isn’t pain. Everything else in life is. Besides, love is worth it.”

He shook his head in confusion. “I have never seen that.”

“Alec, your father didn’t love your mother. He was obsessed with her. He wanted no one else to have a sliver of her love. Look at his treatment of you. There is something else you have forgotten.”

“Which is?”

“You don’t let fear rule you. Don’t start now.”

* * * *

Everything stood ready. The castle dogs had been banished and the stools waited for the musicians to come play. The great hall never looked more festive, at least to Portia. Foliage and wildflowers graced the space as their perfume swirled about and hung thick in the air. In the corner, caskets of ale waited for the men to drink. The tables were set up, ready for the men and their women to come and fill their bellies. Portia risked much this night. She would show Alec the side of him he denied.

For tonight, there would be dancing. Dancing loosened tension and added to romance. After all, her chance at love was not the only one needing saving. Cairine and Quinlan must heal their rift and Brus must realize the woman he needed as his wife was Rosin. She was surrounded by a lot of blind people, unable to see what they jeopardized.

After giving the final orders, Portia returned to the chamber and dressed. Tonight, she donned the plaid she had worn the first time, the Cameron family plaid. With the assistance of a maid, she wove gold ribbon through her hair to catch the candlelight. She even combed her brows.

When the knock sounded, she was ready. Stepping outside, Alec stood, his hair damp and pushed back. The sharp edge of his jaw was scraped clean of hair. He had donned the family plaid. An emerald brooch held his own in place and matched his eyes. Both caught the light.

She loved this man.

“You are so beautiful.”

“Thank you, husband. You look quite handsome yourself.” She slipped her arm through his without waiting for his offer since she assumed he wouldn’t have. She stood on the threshold of the hall as she took in the lively scene.

The ladies looked beautiful, some with wildflowers woven through their hair and others donning simple jewelry. The men had looked fit in their plaids, appearing like the brave, proud warriors they were. Every clan member donned a lively look that promised that this night was a true celebration, even as Portia forced herself to push aside her rejection. Alec spurned her love because he was a pig-headed fool.

This night wasn’t about her. This was about the love of other people.

At the head of the right trestle table, Brus stood with Rosin at his side and Diorbhail and Neoinean opposite them. At the dais, Leah and Cairine waited. Leah looked as if she had been kissed again by her husband whilst Quinlan stared at his wife, who snuck glances at him.

When they reached the dais, Alec held out his hand to her. Beneath her palm, his strong hand cradled her own. His controlled strength calmed her. He professed he didn’t want her love. She had seen it fight to break free.

Portia hovered by the chair. The feasters stared at her, anticipating Alec’s welcoming words.

From the side of his mouth, Alec said, “This is all your doing.”

Portia released Alec’s hand and stepped forward. She looked at the waiting faces. “Eat and be merry. Tonight, we celebrate.”

“What are we celebrating?” One of the clan’s folk shouted from her left.

“My wedding.” She grabbed Alec’s hand. “Our wedding.”

The cheers went up, bouncing off the rafters. Men stomped their feet. Women clapped. Even the dogs’ barking traveled from outside and into the hall. Her ears buzzed from the merriment. But there was more than merriment coursing through her. She had loved Stephen and loving Alec wasn’t a betrayal. She lived and deserved the happiness she experienced being Alec’s wife.  Truth was, she swore she had lost everything and she had, but she found a new life that unfurled before her.

Alec escorted her to her seat. These little kindnesses thrilled her.

“Lovely brooch, Cairine,” Portia said.

Cairine twisted toward Portia to better show off the gold Celtic style piece. “Quinlan presented me with this luckenbooth as my bridal gift.”

Shockingly, Quinlan reddened. His lashes lowered and he half-tilted his head. He was embarrassed. Portia forgot what to say.

“I remember him commissioning it,” Alec started and earned a guffaw from Hurley. “It had to be special but not too grand otherwise she won’t wear it.”

“He was right. It is special and though I may regret this, I have simple taste. He has promised me more gifts for our daughters.” Cairine caressed it.

Portia almost jumped up to hug them both. They were planning for children.

“I wouldn’t expect it. That poor man trembled whenever Quinlan visited him.” Hurley pointed at Quinlan, who smirked.