The Pledge (14 page)

“Rhys—”

“Rhys will go with Eamon and Toric to the castle. The dog will accompany him. I will take you, madame.”

“Stay!” Morrigan said to Hugh. “I would speak with them,” she said, indicating his men.

She didn’t see the astounded glances shared by the MacKays. Their lady stood her ground against the mightiest MacKay! Their
smiles were tinged with respect, liking, admiration.

Hugh noticed, wry mirth touching his innards. “Then do so, wife.”

Morrigan made a curtsy, her gaze touching all the men. “To all of you I give my gratitude.” She looked at her son, then at
the men nearest him. “Thank you, Eamon, and you, Toric, and the rest of you for your brave kind deeds this day. I can never
repay you, but I shall always be in your debt.” Morrigan turned her back on her high-handed husband, feeling irked at the
way he delegated the happenings around him. To be chief of the clan was one thing. To lord it over her wouldn’t be tolerated.
She was so busy castigating him in her mind, she didn’t notice the warm glances from the clan members.

Hugh watched his men, a mix of ire and amusement on his face.

“Our pleasure, milady,” Toric answered. “Rhys has shown his mettle as a MacKay. His next lesson will entail discretion as
dictated by his laird.” Toric looked at the boy, who nodded.

Toric grinned along with the others. “Rest assured I shall watch him, milady.”

“My thanks.”

Before she could say more, Hugh lifted her and carried her back to his destrier being held by a young MacKay warrior.

“I would’ve said more to Eamon, as well.”

Hugh shrugged, tipping her closer to his chest. “He’s well able to handle things. Besides, you’ve bewitched enough MacKays
for one day.”

Agape, Morrigan stared at him. “I did no such thing. I merely thanked them.”

“Merely? I think not. They were magnetized by you, as iron can be to special slate.”

She smiled. “Foolishness. You saw what wasn’t there.”

He stared at her. “And are you posturing, wife, that you don’t notice how you’ve enthralled my men?”

“Silly,” she breathed.

“Nay, and I’ll tell you true, I don’t need more reasons to be taken by you.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She frowned, then tried to smile at the young man and
glare at her husband at the same time. “You are Kenneth, are you not?”

The young MacKay reddened and swept a deep bow. “And eager to serve you, milady.”

“Thank you.”

“You needn’t charm all my men, wife.”

Morrigan sucked in an angry breath. “I wasn’t—”

Before she could finish he swept her up in front of the cantle on his steed and climbed up behind her. She could do little
more than wave to Rhys, who waved back, though he made it obvious he was much more interested in listening to what Eamon was
telling him about the dog next to him. “He should be put into a hot tub.”

“He will be there before you, wife,” he whispered.

Not sure she’d heard right over the pounding of horse’s hooves, she didn’t respond, though her heart sounded against her chest
like a blacksmith’s hammer. “My horse—”

“Will be brought by the men.”

“Thank you.”

“Our son dotes on animals, I’m thinking.”

Morrigan’s breath caught in her throat at the “our,” happy that he’d not continued on with a discussion of her in a tub of
water, yet shaken by the intimacy of his inclusion into Rhys’s life. “Yes, he does. We… we didn’t have many on our holding.”
She sighed. “He was lonely, you see. We were so isolated. Our… our neighbors were not near.”

A wealth of meaning was in her words. Hugh cursed.

“What angers you, sirrah?”

“I can imagine how hard it was for you, how some might’ve shunned you for the sin of having a child.”

She took in a shaky breath, biting her lip against the need to confess. Once again only the pledge she’d made to Gwynneth
about the protection of Rhys kept her silent. “My family was a buffer.”

“That you kept and raised the boy makes me esteem you, wife. I know it must’ve been lonely because you were far from your
family.”

Morrigan nodded, more touched than she could say by his words. “My holding was by the sea. My brothers had lands closer to
Cardiff on the other side of Wales.” She leaned back to look up at him. “For Rhys there’d been nothing except the grazing
animals and a few children. The farmers were kind, but they returned, at some distance, to their own places in the evening.
Most of them had a hard, busy life, eking out what they could from the stony soil.”

“I see. You, as a royal of Wales, Princess of Llywelyn, were protected by the Llywelyn name. Under that umbrella was Rhys’s
guardianship as well, but, since you were thought by some to be a fallen woman, few had sought your company.”

“Yes,” she breathed, stunned by his plain speaking.

“I never trust the sanctimonious.”

She exhaled. “Neither do I. I had the monies from my father, the holding, and a few family retainers, but there were few distractions
or play for a young child. We had
no pets. Rhys had few playmates until the twins. Now he looks on them as kin.”

“I’m glad he has the twins, and they have him.”

“And the dog.” Morrigan chuckled, her angst melting in the heat generated by her spouse.

“Not to mention all the many other MacKays of similar age.”

Morrigan laughed. “And the older ones who dote on the three. You have good people, Hugh MacKay.”

“Thank you,” he answered, his voice husky. “You are a most fascinating woman, wife.”

Hugh grew contemplative once more. “And were your neighbors standoffish?”

Morrigan nodded, not affronted by the question because she sensed no censure in her husband. “ ’Twas the way of it.” It was
like lifting a rock from her soul to speak thus with him. “So different in Wales. Too many of the close neighbors, though
cowed by the power and money of the Llywelyns, were aloof.”

“I can imagine. Persons of good standing often let me know how disappointed they were in me and my clan when we were renegades.
Some didn’t need words. Their looks were enough.” He kissed her hair, muttering endearments in Gaelic.

“I really didn’t mind for myself, Hugh. And, fortunately, for most of that time Rhys was too young to notice. Shortly before
leaving Wales, he’d begun asking questions about his friends. It puzzled him that he couldn’t play at their homes, nor would
they come to
his. It wasn’t easy to talk with him about it. Of course I wasn’t totally unhappy with the arrangement…” Her voice faded,
her face reddening when she realized what she’d said.

Hugh kissed her cheek. “The solitude had ensured Rhys’s anonymity.”

“Yes.” His understanding shook her. So much had opened her eyes. It’d been glaringly obvious, since coming to Castle MacKay,
that Rhys had been starved for the masculine interest and input he’d received from Hugh’s men. That he worshiped Eamon and
Toric was obvious. That he eagerly sought out the twins and was glad they were family was quite as clear.

“What are you thinking?” Hugh said softly.

“Of Rhys, and how happy he’s been since coming to Castle MacKay.”

Hugh tightened his hold. “Then I vow you must stay.”

Morrigan smiled. “It seems we will.”

“Aye. I’ll not let you go.”

Her head whirled at his words, at the warmth of his hold, how his clasp didn’t loosen as they ascended to the first glen at
the base of the hill leading to Castle MacKay.

Hugh spoke to all those they passed, and was patient with every query. It astounded Morrigan how thoughtful he was with old
and young, how all seemed important to him.

“Her ladyship is fine, Geordie. She tried to save our son in the sea.” Hugh’s words carried to others passing by, and they
turned to tell others.

“Och, aye, and does it surprise ya’, laird? She had the stuff in her from the beginnin’. Did ya’ no see she was a stalwart
one? Och! The noo. Ya’ couldna been lookin’.”

Morrigan stared, not comprehending the rapid Gaelic or the glowering looks. “They’re angry with me?”

“Nay! See how they touch the tartan that covers you. They’re in awe, wife, though they would wish that they had taken the
risk, not you.”

She twisted around to look up at him. “True?”

He nodded.

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t have let them take the chance for me.”

He chuckled. “They sense that, too. ’Tis one of the reasons they revere you.”

Her face was still angled upward. The surprise on her features was obvious. Then she reddened and looked away again.

“Believe it, wife. I tell you true.”

“I—I’m touched,” Morrigan said, her voice breaking.

In moments there was only the sound of Orion’s hooves hitting the stony path as they climbed the incline to the castle.

“Look at me,” he whispered into her hair.

“I… I cannot turn my head.” She could but she didn’t want to look into those power eyes. He made her feel weak, and then she’d
start remembering their wedding night, and that could make her damp in the most alarming places.

His hand came up and cupped her chin, edging it
around so he was looking down at her. “That doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No,” she said on a wheeze of air. Those wild and wonderful eyes. They were a warlock’s gaze to be sure.

“Do you know how I felt when I saw you in the sea? Seeing those waves breaking over you and pulling you deeper and deeper,
farther and farther.”

“I can… swim,” she faltered, not answering his questions.

Hugh’s hands moved over her, his strong thighs guiding the steed. His voice had a hoarseness, a harshness. “I wasn’t sure
I could get to you in time. If you had gone down would I have been able to find you right away? That tore through my head.
I damned near killed my horse getting down there.”

“I’m sorry. ’Twas not my intention to hurt this wonderful—”

“That has nothing to do with what we’re saying, Morrigan. Dammit! I could’ve lost you.” His voice rose though he tried to
control it. In his agitation he kicked the destrier. Orion took umbrage and leaped up the last few feet to a stretch of flat
land close to the gate.

Morrigan was thrown back against Hugh, gasping.

His arms tightened, keeping her there. “I have you.”

“I know. About the other… I’m… I’m sorry. I had to—”

“I know. I just don’t want you or the boy endangered like that. I would have you take Diuran with you wherever you go. And
Eamon has already volunteered to be
the boy’s mentor. He’s a good teacher, and there’s not much he doesn’t know about the clan and its holdings. Father Monteith
will continue to instruct him in his lessons, but Eamon will be his guardian. I’d trust him with my life. How do you feel
about that?”

She nodded. “ ’Tis sensible.”

He chuckled.

She felt his lips pressed to her temple. More than breathing she wanted to turn her face to his, lift it for his kiss in that
openmouthed way that he had. He’d turned her to fire once before, and she wanted the flame again. She’d never desired anything
more.

“Why did you stiffen? Do my people frighten you?”

Morrigan focused on the group that’d begun to gather around them in the bailey, to follow them. “Oh… no. They’ve been most
kind to me.” She shook herself out of her reverie, smiling at those, letting Hugh answer the many queries about what had happened,
why Lady MacKay was coming back all but unclothed to the castle.

“Where is the lad, Hugh MacKay?” The question came from the center of the group.

“Have no fear. He’s with Eamon and Toric.”

Their relief almost brought tears to Morrigan’s eyes. What people the MacKays were! And she and Rhys belonged amongst them.

He put his mouth to her hair once more. “See. I’m not the only one who fears for you.”

“I’m honored by the caring.”

“As well you should be, milady.”

She looked up at him, hearing the warmth in his voice. The heat in his look there had her all but sliding off Orion’s back.

It’d all changed. Morrigan could feel it in the air that crackled between them. Even the voices of those who waited upon their
trenchers seemed to have differing intonations. No one stayed long in their presence. She and Hugh were among the throng who
always crowded into the great room. Was it not custom for the laird and his lady to eat among those who chose to join them?

“What think thou?” Hugh quizzed her in the ancient Celtic that’d been the language once common in Scotland, though now it
had dribbled into Gaelic. Wales, alone, kept to the purest of the ancient speech, and used it as the common language.

Morrigan smiled, aware of the effort it took him to speak the ancient tongue, and how he honored her by doing so. She had
difficulty focusing on his question.
His eyes, as they’d done since their nuptial night, held her in thrall. “Of your people, milord?”

“Of all of it.”

She wanted to dissemble, to find anything but the truth to tell the stalwart leader of the MacKays. “I like your castle and
your people,” she began, faltering when his smile twisted in mock query.

“That pleases me.” He smiled, his eyes lingering on her form. “What else, wife?”

“I… I sense there’s a change between us.” With her face fiery red she stared into his eyes, watching that strong mouth curve
upward.

“Astute of you, wife.” He leaned toward her, holding his tankard to her lips. “I would have you quench your thirst, if it
pleases you.”

“It does.”

“And you please me.”

His words spilled over her like hot molasses, clinging, touching, somehow bonding her to him more than she’d been. “I… that’s
good.”

“Isn’t it. Will you drink?”

She hesitated, then sipped the strong ale. “Thank you.”

He smiled, setting down the tankard near hers and lifting his hand to her unbound hair, letting his one finger twist through
a curl. “I’m glad you’re not wearing your headdress. Even the veil is too much.”