Highland Fire (Guardians of the Stone) (29 page)

Aye, it seemed she was bound to mourn yet another husband. But this time she would truly mourn, for she was coming to know Aidan and she was growing to love the tenderness and respect with which he treated her—despite how she had come to him. It was much the same respect he accorded his sisters, allowing them a position of strength in his home. He was hardly diminished by their will, nor did he seem to feel threatened by it in the least. He was a man who was at ease with a woman of substance, and she admired him greatly for that.

He called her his flower.

The thought of it gave her a private smile, and her head warred with conflicting images. The only thought that seemed to clear her brain of the melee was the thought of her son. Kellen was her first duty. He would keep her path straight, even if in the end she would weep tears of heart-wrenching grief.

But how could she bear to betray Aidan and see him fall? How could she watch them put him beneath the ground... those fingers that loved her so sweetly.

More and more, she feared she would fail.

Once Rogan had gone, Aveline was given a choice. She could either remain within the
Crannóg
, in a small room near the lord’s chamber, or she could choose the cottage she had been assigned. She chose the cottage, and Lìli was glad she was not underfoot, not simply because the girl had taken to weeping half the day, but because it would be easier for Aveline to do her duty—not for Lìli, but for Rogan—without so many eyes scrutinizing her. Lìli could already tell that the
crannóg
itself remained fairly well guarded, for it was where Aidan and his family slept, in rooms that encircled the great hall.

The
crannóg
was big, but a fraction of the size of Keppenach, or her father’s well-kept donjon and motte. Yet there was something very cozy about the way these folks lived, where the walls were not so thick it muffled all sound. But that simple fact gave Lìli reason to blush, for Aidan was insatiable, and it seemed he’d awakened something in Lìli that she had never realized she possessed: Desire, like her wretched conscience, was a constant companion. But only one of the two made a better bedfellow.

With Stuart, the act of procreation had not been so unpleasant, but that had been all it was—a means to get a son. He had been a good, pious man who took his duties as lord far more soberly than those of being a husband. He had been kind to her overall, doting, but not in the bedroom quite so much. There, he had been reserved, uncertain, leaving her to wonder what she was supposed to do, and that was precisely the problem, for while Lìli understood medicine very well, she understood nothing at all about pleasing a man.

But she was learning.

Thinking of Aidan, she shivered softly, for he was a man who knew exactly what to do, and he rarely extinguished lights. Lìli thought perhaps he knew every inch of her body by now, for he had kissed every hair and every freckle under the warm glow of their brazier. In fact, the thought of some of the places he had kissed her now burned her cheeks. Thank God he did not inspect her coffers in the same manner!

Somehow, without diminishing his manhood, Aidan gave her obeisance while in his arms. And more every day, she could not bear the thought of what she had been brought here to do.

Still, her husband was a mystery, for while within their room, he was tender and loving, outside their private quarters he was kind but aloof, occupying himself primarily with the training of his men.

Days went by and Lìli avoided all thoughts of the vial and the ring in her chest, and subsequently, she worried and fretted about Kellen, her heart nearly bleeding for wont of the sight of her sweet son.

In the coming weeks, summer gave way to fall, and the leaves on the trees fell. The grass turned gold and the loch turned silver to match the sky.

The vale prepared for winter. Butterflies vanished along with the wildflowers. Squirrels hoarded nuts. Entire flocks of birds darkened the sky with their sojourn south, and Sorcha discovered a lone wolf pup, abandoned by his mother along the hillside forest behind Glenna’s home. It was weak and skinny. Without help, the beast would be dead long before the first snowfall. Weeping, she brought the pup to Lìli, and Lìli treated it the same as she would any man or woman. Within a few days, the little beast was up and following Sorcha about like a dog.

“Where came you by the knowledge of the old ones?” Una asked one day, catching Lìli on the way to Glenna’s cottage. The old woman hobbled along beside her with her staff, keeping pace despite her awkward gait.

“Some through a midwife I knew, though much was gleaned through my years—wherever I could come by it, in truth. I had quite a thirst for the knowledge, you might say.”

Unspoken was the reason Lìli had been so driven to learn, for both Lìli and Una understood precisely why she would be compelled. Una’s head bobbled, and for a few paces she said nothing more, then offered, “One day when you are settled, I have a
leabhar
you may like to see.”

Curiosity, like a famished beast, raised its hungry head. A book was a very rare thing. Lìli had never expected to encounter one here. “A book, ye say?”

The woman winked at her, her white hair blowing in the soft breeze. “A verra auld book!”

“Ach, that would please me immensely,” Lìli confessed.

The old woman smiled and said, “I ken, lass. I do ken. Only tell me... would you take the advice of a doddering auld woman?”

Lìli could not shake the feeling that, in truth, Una was her greatest ally here at Dubhtolargg, even more so than her husband—aye, even despite the burgeoning suspicion that the old woman was also the author of her curse and thus her misery. “Of course,” she said.

“Trust your instincts, Lìli, and whatever ye do, ye do it with your soul.” And having imparted that, they parted ways. Una veered up the hillside path to where she so often disappeared. On many days Lìli simply watched her wander up the hillside, wondering where she went, but she didn’t ask.

As the days passed, one by one she came to know each of the villagers. Some sought her because Una urged them to do so, so she could treat their ailments, and others she came to know because she stopped to inspect their crafts. It seemed naught was sold here, rather they lived as one family, sharing what they had with one another, and everyone played some part—except Aveline, of course. The maid was lost and out of sorts.

Not far from Lìli’s thoughts remained the vial and the ring. She imagined them so often burning a whole in her coffers, but as yet, she had not moved them because it seemed the most natural place to hide them. Still, she wanted to take the ring and toss it into the loch. Thoughts of Kellen were the only thing to stay her hand.

One day while she stood at the window in her room, believing she was alone, she had unshuttered the window and stood looking out over the loch, the ring clutched in her fist, cutting into her flesh—the same way her guilt was cutting into her joy. God's truth, she was ready to toss it… but then she recalled her son holding out his little talisman and lost herself in the memory of Kellen running so excitedly from her garden to show her his newly discovered treasure.

He needed her to remain strong. He believed in her. He'd kept his little talisman because he wanted to believe whatever she told him.

Ach, but he would love the view from this window, she thought.

What she wouldn’t give to kiss the pate of his head while he stood here right alongside her to enjoy the sight.

Despite that summer was gone now and fall was well into its days, the glen never lost its beauty. The surrounding corries were a string of white-tipped pearls, and the loch itself was a multifaceted jewel, reflecting the silver-gray sky.

Aidan approached from behind, slipping his arms about her waist. He kissed the back of her neck. Like a dagger, the ring dug into her palm, and she couldn’t bring herself to turn around and face him. Though he didn’t force her to. He simply embraced her.

“Ye’ve been standing here for nigh on an hour, Lìli. What thoughts occupy your mind?”

Lìli told him the truth—half the truth, at least. “My son,” she said and sighed. “By the time I see him next he may be a man grown.”

“Nay,” he said. “Ye have my word, Lìli. We will bring Kellen home.”

Lìli nodded, the ring in her fist burning like a fiery ember. For once, she hoped he would not attempt to coax her into the bed, because then she would be forced to let the ring drop into the water, and her decision would be made once and for all.

He kissed her once on the cheek, sensing her withdrawn mood, and then he gave her the space she both prayed he would give her, and prayed he would not, for if he took the decision out of her hands, then she would know which path she was destined to take. But, nay, he left her alone with the ring and her dark thoughts, and went along his way, none the wiser.

In very little time, Lìli’s heart had completely softened toward Aidan and his people.

She no longer saw them at all the same. They were a peace-loving clan, and far from being the fearsome, pagan warrior with bloodshed on his mind, she understood now that Aidan only raised his sword to defend his vale. Indeed, her father had likely come into their midst as friends, and must have betrayed their trust, for naught else would explain their coming to blows.

She only wondered how they had survived all these years in the Mounth, living among warmongering tribes … but she knew … she knew it was because they kept themselves apart, defending themselves against outsiders.

Because her husband had embraced her, so too did his kinsmen, and for the first time in her entire life she understood what it truly felt like to be a part of a clan. How ironic was it that it was the one time in her life that she should not be?

She felt like a snake in their grass.

One morning she was tending to Aveline, trying to cheer her. With Glenna’s help, she had found a dress and convinced the lass to rid herself of the faded green samite English gown she seemed to believe was so grand—it was not!—and she was plaiting Aveline’s hair in the fashion the girls in the village wore, when she heard the blast of a horn.

At once her heart stopped. Kellen’s face flashed through her thoughts and she abandoned Aveline’s hair and hurried out of the cottage.

Could it be that Rogan had had a change of heart? Could it be that he was delivering her son? She could not imagine who else might come here. And then her heart twisted, for mayhap there was simply news and something was wrong?

With baited breath, Lìli peered up into the hills, and then she spied the men on horseback coming down the mountain pass. Their colors were not that of Keppenach’s, nor David’s—nor any she recognized. With cloaks flying at their backs, their horses came thundering into the vale.

“Aye! Well take a look at that one!” Keane said proudly, pointing down at the ground. His face was nearly healed now, back to its normal size, but his ego had returned and inflated to twice the size before.

Precisely at this moment, he wasn’t alone. Lang Glen, who was far too old and far too big to be competing with a lad half his age, climbed atop the boulder where Keane had stooped only moments before and peered behind it. “’Tis a puny log,” he told the boy, guffawing. “Mine is full half a foot longer than yours, anyone can see!”

Aidan continued repairing the fissure that had appeared all too suddenly, piling stones atop it, examining the area around it, and he rolled his eyes at the exaggeration. This was a
tradition
he did not relish, although he could find little harm in tolerating it. Some boys were consecrated to always remain simply boys, and mayhap his brother was one of those. The thought of that displeased him somewhat, but he had begun of late to imagine what sort of child would come of his union with Lìli. He dared to hope his first would be a boy, but couldn’t begin to contemplate what that might mean for the future of his clan or the stone.

Damn, Una, for she had been the one to embroil him in this, and now he was beginning to feel great affection for Lìli, no matter that he had tried to harden his heart. It was soft already, he realized—as soft as Lang Glen’s head.

The land beneath his feet seemed solid enough, and the fissure was not even wide enough to see into so he could better determine the lay of the caverns below. He worried that this spot on the hill might be too close to the vaulted stone. At least he knew his men would keep an eye on it, for it was right in front of their godforsaken toilet.

“My turn!” exclaimed Hob.

“Nay mine!” called another, and the rest of the daft men all climbed up on the rock beside the two gloating fools, clamoring to peer down at the log of shit his brother had given birth to, vying to see whose was bigger and then to see who was next to try.

Somehow, it had become an agreed upon notion that all the greatest wisdom was gleaned in that instant—that somehow, the rapture of giving birth to a solid load of shit was a religious experience. If anyone asked Aidan, he thought the lot of them were far too preoccupied with defecation and he’d like to shove the silly bunch faces first down into their own dung. He loathed to think of the two-hundred years of shit lying down in that gully behind the rock.