Highland Fire (Guardians of the Stone) (18 page)

“I know,” Aidan said.

The burly man explained, “I've had me a fierce craving for one of Morag’s cheeses for nigh on two weeks, and then suddenly it was here at my feet. Sometimes, prayers are answered!”

He sounded so excited that Aidan didn’t wish to disappoint him with the truth. “So it seems.” Damn, but he might as well enjoy a wee slice since he had planned to serve it for breakfast this morning, and now it was half gone, vanished into the depths of Lachlann’s vast belly. He scratched his jaw, and relented, “Aye, then, gi’ me a wee taste.”

He sat down for a moment to talk with Lachlann, and Lachlann carved a
wee taste
, handing it over, grinning broadly, clearly pleased to share, though only willing to part with as much as he was compelled to. Aidan had little doubt the entire wheel would be gone before Lachlann e’er rose from his boulder.

He swallowed his
wee
slice and held out his hand again, requesting another, and though he grimaced, Lachlann complied at once.

“What do ye know of MacLaren and the
siùrsach
?” Aidan prompted.

Lachlann shrugged, carving away at his cheese just as fast as he could. He swallowed the pieces nearly whole. “What is there to know? Fergus said the two went at it twice in the field and then he deposited the wench in her bed and stumbled along to his own. As Lael bade him to, he then stood watch outside MacLaren’s door for the remainder of the evening but the sour-faced Scot never showed his beak nose again.”

Aidan nibbled his piece of cheese, savoring the flavor as it was meant to be enjoyed—slowly—while Lachlann tossed his down as fast as he could.

None of the Scots party had shown their faces to break their fast this morning... but then again, no one had invited them. In fact, he had made it quite clear that their hall was off limits until after the nuptials. His people would not sleep or eat under the same roof with deceiving Scots until they were certain all chance of treachery was diminished.

“What of the others?”

“The priest and the stone statues? They stood by the fire until the priest fell asleep on his arse—quite late—and then all of them went back to the cottage—probably to bugger each other while the priest watched.” He laughed at his own jest, then held up a slice of cheese before popping it into his gob. “Want more?”

“Aye, ye greedy bastard! Why dinna ye save a bit for later anyhoo?”

Lachlann patted his belly. “A mon’s gotta eat,” he declared.

“Aye, well if ye dinna stop now, ye’ll no’ be shittin’ for a week, I vow.”

Lachlann laughed as he carved a more generous piece for Aidan, probably in hopes that Aidan would not ask for another before the entire wheel was done. Greedy whoreson. It rankled only because Aidan had craved that cheese for himself, and he would have shared far more than Lachlann seemed inclined to.

“Dinna fash yourself,” Lachlann avowed. “I ha’ ne’er met a mon as yet who can out-shit me.” He winked.

Aidan answered with a grin, but that was one competition he had never been inclined to join. It was painful enough to spy those burly son’s of whores standing upon their boulder on the mount, shouting in victory across the vale as they left their malodorous signatures for God and man alike.

Dirty bastards.

Resigning himself to the loss of his cheese, Aidan stood, ready to go, realizing that despite Lachlann's rabid attention on the wheel of cheese, if Lachlann had perceived any nuance of danger, the man would have forsaken every meal to keep them safe. So, then, let him enjoy his
faerie gift
in peace. “Ha’ ye seen any of their lot today?”

“No’ a hair on their greasy heads.”

“Not even the
siùrsach
?”

Lachlann shook his head.

“Aye, well... be certain someone sets an eye upon them soon, and dinna allow them anywhere near the caverns.”

“Dinna worry, Aidan. The entrances are all being guarded, and Fergus is to come and tell me the instant those listless bastards leave their beds.”

Aidan peered around to see if he could spot any of his men along the bluff. Because he knew where to look, he spied Turi’s black head behind a boulder, but no on else. “Good.”

“’Tis like as no’ they’re hiding in their beds 'til David’s lackey comes to save them from the mean mountain folk.” He chortled then, clearly enjoying the thought. “I dinna think they trust us a wee bit.”

“The feeling is mutual. I canna stomach a mon who willna face his foes.”

Lachlann nodded his agreement, and then arched a brow. “Speaking of foes, will ye truly wed the Scoti lass?”

“She’s not dead yet,” Aidan offered somewhat seriously. “I suppose I will.”

Lachlann belted out another peal of laughter, his belly quaking unevenly like a sack of potatoes.

“Tonight the deed will be done,” Aidan revealed, and lest Lachlann suspect his motives, he added, “I’d not draw this out longer than we must. Alert the rest of the men. I’d have everyone on guard and watching for
any
sign of treachery. Come tomorrow morn, I want these Scots—all of them save Lìleas and her skinny maid—gone from the vale. I canna rest easy until the rats have gone away.”

Lachlann nodded, understanding the burden Aidan carried, for he was a good five years older than Aidan. He too remembered that treacherous supper. “What of wee Dunc?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I’m away to Glenna’s now,” Aidan disclosed. “To be certain ’tis meet to wed, and we are no’ instead obliged to bury our dead. The boy was much recovered before I sought my bed last night.”

“Good. Good. I wadna like to lose another so soon and wee Dunc is a verra good lad.” Lachlann peered down at the last slice of cheese. He seemed to consider it a moment, hesitating, but then offered it up. “Go on and gi’ it to Glenna, then... for Dunc... tell the lad ’tis a gift from the faeries and twill see him strong again. He likes auld Morag’s cheese.”

A tiny smile curled Aidan’s lip as he reached out to accept the burly man’s gift for the sick child. He envied Lachlann’s faith and as he met his clear blue eyes over the wheel of cheese, he knew for certain that whatever doubts he shouldered, he would bear them alone. “Aye, I’ll gi’ the lad your best,” he promised, and then he offered him a wink and said, “His minny too.” And then he reached out with his free hand to pat Lachlann’s shoulder in friendship and with pride. More soberly than he had before, he added, “Ye’re a good mon, Lachlann. ’Tis proud I am to ha’e ye at my side.”

Lachlann gave him a narrow-eyed look, peering up through russet lashes. “Bah! Go on wi’ ye now! Ye speak as though ye’re off to the gallows, chief. ’Tis a wedding we gather for,” he re-assured. “They wadna dare the same ruse twice.”

Aidan nodded. But they would, he knew, and if treachery was the aim of these Scoti, then tonight would be the night. “Well, if they do... see that we’re prepared for them,” he commanded.

“Dinna fret, chief. We will be. If treachery be their scheme, we’ll be feedin’ them their beating hearts from the tips of our blades tonight.” He lifted his dirk, and held the well-honed blade up for an instant to show its gleaming edge, and then he wiped it across his tongue to remove the remainder of the Morag’s cheese before re-sheathing it into his belt.

W
hatever exuberance Cailin lacked, Sorcha made up for emphatically. The youngest of Aidan’s sisters was a wee bit of a cyclone, leading everyone about by their noses. She was ten and three going on twenty, and not even her elder sister seemed able to resist her wiles.

Lael, on the other hand, simply would not join them. They encountered the eldest of Aidan’s sisters in the hall as Sorcha pulled Lìli along by the hand. Cailin shuffled behind them bearing her wedding dress and Lael eyed the dress with clear disapproval and stabbed Lìli with a look of disdain.

Attired in garb that made Lìli feel as though she were still planning to go to war, there were knives strapped to every limb, but there was no sharper blade than her tongue. “Ye canna miss your scrawny maid,” she said. “The woman has been picking her nose beside the pier since Aidan left this morn. We make no apologies for no’ allowing her inside, an’ ye may tell her so!”

Clearly, she did not trust them and made little pretense over the fact. Thankfully, neither of her younger sisters followed her lead, and seemed happy enough to leave Lael to whatever business she was attending. Her expression dour, she marched through the hall while Lìli, along with Sorcha and Cailin ventured outside.

As Lael claimed, Aveline stood beside the dock that led to the great hall, but her hands were folded before her, and she appeared for all-the world a little lost dove. For the first time since she’d met Rogan’s mistress, Lìli suffered a pang of guilt for not embracing her more fully. Forsooth, but Aveline did not make it easy, though soon enough they would be alone amidst these people and she knew Aveline must be feeling as distressed as she was, even if the girl would never confess it. As they passed, she took Aveline by the hand, and following Sorcha’s lead, they wandered from cottage to cottage, drawing out the womenfolk, until they had a train as long as any Lìli had ever seen.

Reluctantly at first, mothers and daughters joined them, bringing along ribbons and a sundry other items to help Lìli dress. Nervous or nay, it was difficult not to enjoy herself while Sorcha ran about like a little imp, spurring laughter wherever she went. Lìli found herself forgetting—at least for the moment—that this wedding was entirely a farce. She jested with the mothers and complimented the daughters, and all the while, the men gathered, watching from a distance, as though taking their cues from their womenfolk. To Lìli’s way of seeing it, it seemed that once the women began to relax and laugh, the men somehow found it permissible to enjoy themselves as well.

From where they stood at the edge of the village, she could see the men's numbers growing in the field below the hillside and it appeared to Lila as though they were tossing trees about. She had to ask. “What are they doing?”

“Tossing cabers,” Cailin revealed. “Every year, we freshen the wood for the
crannóg
. The logs canna be cut too short, and only the strongest may help carry the wood from the forest, so of course, the dolts must turn it into a sport, as they do with aught else.”

“Aye,” one woman interjected, “dinna follow any up o’er the mount!” She pointed to a rise up on the hill, where Lìli spied a particularly large boulder. “You would regret it at once.” She plugged her nose and waved away an imaginary foul scent.

Sorcha leaned close. “There are some who compete to see who can lay the biggest log,” She nodded portentously. “If ye know what I mean.”

Horrified, Lìli nevertheless giggled. Surely Aidan, as chieftain of this clan, would never enjoy such a crude sport! Inasmuch as they seemed so much more courteous than Rogan would have had her believe, this was not an example of civilized behavior, and she could not imagine Stuart or her son competing in such an endeavor. Not even Rogan would have enjoyed such a vulgar sport. Thankfully, she wasn’t given much opportunity to contemplate it overlong, for they started up the hillside to Glenna’s house to see how Duncan fared and to inquire as to whether Glenna thought she might join them. Lìli hoped so, for the greater part because she hoped that Duncan fared well enough for Glenna to leave him for a few moments of respite.

There was no way Lìli could have predicted the outcome of Duncan’s fever, for she hadn’t had time to do much aside from keep him comfortable. All that she could surmise was that he was young and strong and his body had wanted to recover, but, in truth, his improvement was as much a mystery to Lìli as the illness itself.

“Has Duncan eaten yet?” she asked Sorcha.

Sorcha nodded. “He drank more of the
vin aigre
potion, too, but he dinna like it.”

Lìli was pleased to hear it. “It may seem contrary, but 'twill settle his belly.”

Sorcha giggled. “Aye, but Dunc has never had a problem filling his belly. He’s a little piggy,” she disclosed.

Unlike Kellen. Her son was not given to eating well. Had he been in Duncan’s shoes, she loathed to consider the outcome. It made her heartsick to even think of it. Whatever else she did, she must find a way back to her son as quickly as possible, though if she thought of that right now, she would be fit for nothing more than weeping, so she banished the thoughts from her head as best as she was able.

It was a lovely day, despite a bit of a chill. The trees were only beginning to turn, and the grass was still green. The rowan trees were full with leaves, and a few lone flowers sprang here and there along the fields. It was easy enough to forget that all was not goodness and light. Even Cailin’s mood lifted as they went, and she carried the wedding dress now with a new skip in her step, joking along with Sorcha.

Glenna must have heard their approach, for she came outside, smiling, her gaze centered upon Lìli. “Duncan is sleeping,” she disclosed. “But only after devouring the remainder of your stew. You must tell me how you made it!”

Lìli’s cheeks heated. “It does seem anything made by someone else always tastes better than our own,” she offered politely, and knew it must be true, because she did not have a bent for cooking. The most she had ever done in the kitchen was to provide herbs for the cooks, and she had merely used a few to flavor a simple soup, naught more. “May I see him?” she asked.