Highland Fire (Guardians of the Stone) (13 page)

The scent of burnt pine—or something like it—permeated the air. One of the candles at the child’s bedside had extinguished, leaving the room a little dimmer, but he was quite certain his eyes were not playing tricks upon him.

Lìleas peered up when he came in the door, looking wearier than she had when he last saw her.

“Where is my sister?” he asked, shutting the door quietly behind him.

“She went searching for ye.”

A shot of trepidation flew down Aidan’s nape and his gaze at once fell to the child in the bed. “Is he—”

“Nay... he but sleeps.”

Relief sidled down his spine. “Good,” he said, and collapsed into an empty chair near the table, stunned. “For what reason does my sister seek me?”

Lìleas shrugged, her gaze averting to the crown of Glenna’s dark head. The woman had clearly fallen asleep against her will, for she lay in the most damnable position, reaching across the bed to grasp Lìleas’ hand.

Willingly?

Lìleas sighed, noting the direction of his gaze. “I ken what it’s like to worry o’er a sick bairn,” she offered. The tone of her voice revealed as much as her declaration and Aidan experienced a moment’s regret for the accusation in his question earlier in the day. It was clear now that leaving her son was not her choice, for she was a mother at heart.

“Duncan isna a wee bairn any longer,” he argued gently. “The boy is eight or thereabouts, but I ken what ye are saying.” He kept his voice low, but there was wonder in it, for he still could not quite fathom how his bride had won fierce Glenna over in the short time since he’d left them. There was no other explanation for the fact that she had let down her guard enough to fall asleep, exhausted or nay, and had willingly given Padruig’s daughter her hand in friendship.

Or had she?

Once again his eyes sought their joined hands upon the bed, doubting the sight even as he stared at the fingers that lay clutched together so intimately.

Damn, but he’d half expected Glenna to have plucked out Lìleas’ hair given half the chance—and he might have even half hoped for it, because he didn’t want to want this woman.

Glenna’s Da had been one of those slaughtered during Padruig’s betrayal. And later, her husband had been one of the good men lost when Alasdair mac Mhaoil Chaluim reigned as King of the North and his brother David ruled the lands south of the River Forth. Alasdair had hounded him to join in quelling his younger brother’s rebellion, for David’s army had outnumbered his by far. When Aidan had refused to embroil himself in Scotia’s politics, Alasdair had responded with raids upon their glen—never confessing his part, of course. Instead, he had blamed his brother David, though of that crime, at least, Aidan knew David was innocent, for David had had his hands full trying to control his territories far to the south. The youngest of Malcolm Ceann Mohr’s sons was not well favored by the Scots, and particularly not by Highlanders he was trying so hard to rule, for he had spent nearly his whole life under the influence of English kings. Thus Glenna had good reason to loathe outsiders, and Aidan had returned, fully intending to adhere to her wishes and remove his Scot’s bride from her home. Alas, but if the woman should lose her son, that show of respect seemed the least Aidan could do.

Apparently, there was no need.

Somehow Lìleas had managed to find a bridge between them—through the boy, no doubt. Both of them were mothers, he reasoned, and only a mother could truly know another mother’s pain or fear of loss.

Lìleas was no longer paying attention to him, he realized. Her attention was centered upon the child, and Aidan sat quietly, watching her tend the lad, deeply affected by his conflicting thoughts. Una said she would betray him at least once before she found her true path... To watch her, he did not think she was capable of killing a child.

So what the hell did Una mean?

The room remained silent but for the sound of Glenna’s soft snores. After awhile, Lìleas released Glenna’s hand and rose. Removing her arisaid, she walked around the bed to place it upon Glenna’s shoulders, covering the sleeping mother as best she could. Aidan was heartily glad for the fact that it was not Caimbeul colors she wore, but that she had done so without sparing Aidan a word, or even a glance to see if he had noticed, moved him so that he could not think clearly in her presence. A simple act of kindness on her behalf should not make him let down his guard. Nay! He
must
not allow it. The risk to his clan was far too great. Without a word, he stood and let himself out of the cottage, letting her tend the child in peace—at least for the moment.

He needed air.

Nay, he needed a moment where he was not staring at his bride's too-bonny face and those silken curls that had come free from her dark plait, making him yearn to smooth them back out of her weary face. As she clearly had with Glenna, in just a few short hours she had already begun to bewitch him.

His father used to say that only fools were certain of themselves. Wise men were full of doubts. If that were true, Aidan was, at this instant, the wisest man of all.

In the distance, he spied the glow from the bonfire. Music and laughter carried through the night—a good sign that no one’s head was as yet on a pike.

On the other hand, their Scots
guests’
heads on pikes might actually provide for quite some entertainment for his men, but he knew them well enough to know they would never defy him, not even for the sake of revenge. Nay, their
guests
would have to do something vile to earn that fate, and even then his men would have come running to retrieve him first. It was more likely that, simply knowing his warriors would guard their backs, his clansmen had had enough
uisge
by now to overlook the hated Scoti in their midst.

More raucous laughter reached his ears and he relaxed a bit, thinking about the shooting stars he had spied earlier, wondering if that could be what Una had been referring to. His mother had been named after them… but she was long gone now and had nothing left to tell him. Certainly, he had seen many falling stars before tonight, but never three at once. And yet, even if the signs were divine, what the hell could they possibly mean?

Nothing, he decided. They were simply stars... stars that had fallen from grace.

Like his faith.

He stood for a time, enjoying the sound of the reed and the cool night air. Fall was near and there was a bite in the air. Soon, the blossoms in the fields would fade, and the grass would turn to gold. No matter that it heralded the coming of winter, this was his favorite time of the year, for these were the nights when a man could be grateful for a good woman in his bed…

He shuddered involuntarily at the thought of Lìleas—not in revulsion, he was surprised to confess. A sense of anticipation began to stir in his belly and it set his nerves on edge…

Did she entertain thoughts of the bedding as well?

Surely, she did, for she was a woman grown, with a child already and one dead husband—aye, she would know exactly what was to transpire between them once the words were said.

Would she revile him, or would she embrace him and enjoy the coupling? That look in her eyes... what it was he didn’t know, but it wasn’t revulsion.

Those violet eyes held the power to unman him.

Sucking in the fresh night air, he smelled traces of the bonfire, and then belatedly—much too belatedly, as far as he was concerned—he thought about his sister Sorcha and resigned himself to go and search for her to be sure all was well.

As for those other two lackeys of David... although he had no doubt they had already spied the men he had assigned to guard them, he wanted to make damned sure they felt his presence as well. If the least sign of treachery arose, he would slit their throats faster than they could open their mouths to scream—and that included the
siùrsach
maid.

A traitor was a traitor.

In the silence of the room, Lìli bowed her head and prayed, taking comfort in the fact that the boy's breath now seemed far less labored. She had done everything she could for the lad and now all they could do was wait. She prayed for herself as well:

Holy Earth, Mother of us all

Help me be me strong in spirit and gentle of heart

Let me act with wisdom, conquer fear and doubt...

In the dim light, she turned to study the boy’s mother. Glenna was young—mayhap no older than Lìli. Sleep had softened her features so that she almost looked like a child herself. Dark-haired and with a darker complexion than Lìli’s, she seemed not all that different from Lìli, not really.

Her gaze searched the room. In one corner sat a weaver’s loom, and beside it a pile of bundled sheepskin that had yet to be cleaned. On the woman’s shelves Lìli spied different colored tinctures—mayhap stains for her wool? A half woven strip of tartan hung over the back of the chair seated near the loom and another lay folded upon the floor. Lìli recognized it as the same weave as the one that covered the bed in the cottage she had been given to sleep in. They were the colors of Aidan's tribe—blood red and forest green.

The candles here all looked familiar as well. She lifted one beside her that had already burned out, searching the bottom for a familiar mark. She found the symbol Cailin had shown her on the bottom of this candle as well, and considered that these people lived as though they were one, sharing skills and trading their wares.

At Keppenach, although Lìli had never really encountered any ill will, the villagers all clamored for more, eager for their share. At harvest time, Stuart had listened to many a grievance, settling debts for men who hardly seemed willing to compromise. More than like, if one villager had not enough gold to buy an item, he went without until he could. Or he stole it...

It was too soon to know for certain but Lìli had a sense of something different here—as though these people were truly a clan united.

She shivered, and her eyes were drawn again to Glenna’s sleeping form, to her own arisaid draped about the woman’s shoulders.

The night had grown cold.

Lìli was freezing.

Rising from her knees, she went to the hearth where the fire was beginning to wane. She took the pot from its hook and set it upon the floor. Then she put new wood upon the fire and stoked it, reviving the flames. There was hardly any need to keep the
vin aigre
potion warm, so she left it where it was to cool, hoping the boy would awaken soon. She had a great desire to see the color of his eyes. Were they gray like his mothers, or were they dark and deep like her son’s? Or green like Aidan and his siblings? In all her life she had never seen more green-eyed men and women in one place.

In the meantime, while she waited, she was certain Glenna would be hungry when she awoke, so she set about preparing a meal from Glenna’s pantry, intending to have it ready when the pair awoke. There was no way Glenna would be able to care for her child if she didn’t first nurture herself.

God’s truth, so much had happened since they had arrived that Lìli felt as though she had been here a sennight already. She had never been wearier than she was at the instant, but there was something innately sound about what she was doing. She didn’t stop to question why she felt so much at home for the simple fact that it filled her with guilt.

Aidan had left her alone with Glenna. Did that mean he trusted her? Had she somehow passed some test?

If so, she was both grateful and mortified at once because if there was one thing Aidan should never do… it was to trust her.

W
ith a groan of satisfaction, Rogan plucked a small rock out of his arse and tossed it away, then brushed another from beneath his shoulder blade. By God, these people lived like savages, forcing a man to seek his pleasure behind boulders in stone-littered fields. At least the low-lying fog gave them some measure of privacy. He returned his hand to Aveline’s there upon his chest, squeezing gently. “If she canna do it, you must do it for her,” he commanded her.

By the saints, he stood to gain far too much to allow Lìleas to fail, for once it was all done, he would also inherit Caimbeul lands through his marriage to Lìli. He and Padruig had settled the matter outside of the King’s council. The old man would not live forever and he had no living sons and only one daughter. His good fortunes had all withered with his daughter’s curse. In exchange, Rogan had agreed to give him a hefty payment of gold. Now between Rogan’s suborn and King David’s payment, Padruig Caimbeul could no doubt buy himself the loyalties of many, but what did Rogan care if he waged war against David himself when Rogan stood to inherit anything the greedy old lecher appropriated from hence forth?

On the other hand, Aveline’s father stood to lose much if Padruig were to suffer itchy fingers for her father’s territory lay directly south of Caimbeul land. Teviotdale was weak and old and her only brother was a milksop who buggered pretty men.

But there was no reason for Aveline to know any of it. For now, it suited him well enough for the stupid lass to believe there was a chance he might some day wed her. That her father had risked his daughter’s virtue by sending her to live at Keppenach without a promise of marriage was none of Rogan’s concern—such was the idiocy of a border lord. It only surprised him that he had not filled Aveline’s belly with a brat yet, for he had plowed her unremittingly since her arrival at Keppenach.