Highland Hope (Wild Thistle Triology Book 1) (16 page)

She grabbed at her hair being whipped by the wind. She quickly twisted it as she thought about Aidan and their upcoming marriage. Hope glanced up at the sky, the cloudless day afforded the sun to warm her nearly as much as Aidan’s touch. Did she loath him or the idea of a man trying to steal her place in the clan?

Decisions weighted her soul. And she worried about the ramifications of what plans had already been put into motion. How would this affect the clan? How would this affect her sisters?

No matter what happened, Hope would be fine. She’d find a way to survive. But her clan, aye, they were her clan, and her sisters’ plight caused so much concern.

There’d been too much uncertainty. And in regards to MacKerry, she feared there would never be trust. Would the council and even some of the clansmen ever accept him fully as one of their own?

Should she cancel the wedding? Find another man, one whom she kenned? One from the clan? Och, if she hadn’t found one she fancied from the clan by this time, she most likely never would. Perhaps one of the Sept clans?

Och, what was she to do. The crashing clarity of the fact she wanted to love the man she wed. She wanted to trust him with her heart and mind. Hope loathed the lies and manipulation.

And while she felt an attraction to the man, ’twasn’t the same of love. Desire wouldn’t include loyalty and devotion.

But she feared it was too late. They’d gone too far and now, now she was damned to accept her decision.

Chapter 14

Did she have the courage?

In the midst of celebration and games, did she have the courage to stand before her clan and question her pending marriage to MacKerry?

Ach, Mother, she thought, tell me what to do.

Hope wrapped her arms around her body, trying to think, feel what her mother would advise. Her gaze hit upon MacKerry.

She tipped her head to the side and watched him. He picked up a log and helped Brom, an elder who walked with a limp due to a riding accident. MacKerry spoke with the man, his head bent low in conversation, then his booming laughter reached her. Brom’s legendary humor must have worked on MacKerry, she thought with a smile.

Something magical happened when MacKerry, Aidan, laughed. Such a strong and confident sound, full of true mirth.

That was her answer, mayhap one summoned by her mother or man before her. Even when he appeared overly strong, hard-edged, there was humor in the man. Compassion for others. Mayhap, he’d have compassion for her and perhaps in the near future Aidan would grow a fondness which would blossom into love. She prayed for that to happen, for both her and MacKerry to learn to love each other. Aye, she’d push her worries aside and let the plan unfold.

Deep within her heart she knew it would be wrong to cancel the wedding, just as she knew she wanted to marry Aidan. A foolish thought indeed, considering there were so many unanswered questions.

The scent of roses wafted by and Hope nodded. “Aye, Mother. I ken.”

Contentment filled her. They’d have problems, of that she was sure.

But in the end, Hope knew she wanted this, wanted him.

Aidan talked to a few more clansmen as he paced toward the barn. She observed the men warm to him and the women appreciate him with a little too much interest.

A primal need to stake her claim overwhelmed her. Hope strode forward. “MacKerry?”

He turned toward her and a grin pulled at his broad mouth. “Aye, m’laird?”

Her toes curled at the roguish glint in his gaze. He slid his gaze from the tips of her
ghillies
to her eyes. And when she cocked a brow, he chuckled and took a few steps closer.

“Did you have need of me?” his low tone rumbled through her as his gaze never left hers.

How his honeyed voice triggered her body to thrum with a need? A need to be close to him, his flesh against hers. His mouth devouring her like a man starved. Heat chased through her veins nearly overwhelming her.

Hope moved closer to him. “Aye,” she said with a coarse whisper.

He tipped his head as he regarded her. “Mayhap we finish our discussion in the barn.”

She nodded her head. “Aye.”

Aidan grabbed her hand and led her to the barn. “Out,” he bellowed to the stable boys. They scattered, not taking a moment to even contemplate Aidan’s demand.

As the door banged closed, he grabbed Hope and pulled her tight against his chest. A whoosh of air slipped from her lungs.

Hope gripped his shirt, held on tight. “We’ve things to discuss.”

His jaw clenched as the sharp planes of his handsome face hardened. “Aye, we do.” Aidan slowly lowered his mouth to hers. So slow, she nearly yelled for him to hurry. While he advanced, he eased her onto the pile of hay beneath their feet.

As his breath mingled with hers, he growled and kissed her with pent up passion. Aidan eased her mouth open, caressed her teeth, tangled with her tongue. His hands pulled her closer, her breasts crushed against his muscular chest, her womb tight against his groin. She melted into him, his heat and strength cradling her as she cupped his cheek, roughened by the slight growth of beard. He moaned and tipped further into her hand.

She pulled away and looked at him. Deep passion, lust, desire filled his gray eyes, sharpening them with an intensity that reached her core. How he made her feel. Was it like this for everyone? Their heart beating as if it would escape their chest?

Aidan moved his hands across her back, gently kneading her flesh down to her waist, moving up her stomach, cupping her breasts. He ran his thumb over her peaked nipple, eliciting a groan deep from her throat.

“Aidan,” she gasped as he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She tipped her head back in sweet torture as rivulets of pleasure shivered throughout her body.

“Aye? Does this pleasure you?” he whispered in her ear. “Would you like more?”

She wanted it all but something in the back of her mind halted her actions. Mayhap, it was Aidan’s resolve to cease when they were by the pond.

Hope pushed up on her elbows. Set her hand against his broad chest. His heart beat against her hand, his skin hot. “You were right, we must wait.”

Aidan groaned and rested his forehead on hers. “Aye. I ken, but my body has a mind of its own.”

She laughed as she felt his manhood pressing against her leg.

He rolled onto his back, raked his fingers through his hair as he grunted in frustration. “Go, Hope. Go before I change my mind.”

She hesitated for a moment, the idea of what would happened if she remained tantalized her.

“Hope,” Aidan pleaded through clenched teeth.

A quick kiss on his cheek and she straightened her clothing and hastened out of the barn.

Once outside, she leaned against the door as her heartbeat began to steady. Her body felt flushed as if her skin still bore the imprint of Aidan.

God, she thought as she tipped back her head and closed her eyes. His touch, his mouth, how he played his skill along her skin and breasts.

“Laird.”

Bollocks
. “Aye, Liam.”

Nothing like an aged Highlander bent on making her life hell to douse the mood. She liked to enjoy a moment to herself to contemplate, think, and just relax. And this moment, the moment right after Aidan had nearly ravished her, was one of those times. Hope didn’t want the passion and heat she’d felt with Aidan to go, to slip away as if it never happened.

She spared Liam a glance and his face was filled with a confident smirk that spiked her anger.

“Have ye seen MacKerry?” Although he attempted, his eyes revealed he knew exactly where Aidan was and what Hope and Aidan had been doing.

“You have need of MacKerry?” She rubbed the back of her neck to release some of the tension Liam’s presence always wrought.

“Apparently not as much as you,” he muttered.

Hope took a step forward and pinned the old man with a scowl. “What did you say?”

He held up his hands in defeat, had the grace to look chagrinned. “Nothing, laird. Nothing at all, at all.”

“MacKerry is busy training.” This man was up to something, she was as certain of this fact as she was the sky was blue. He’d bray like an ass to make her think otherwise, but his character hadn’t changed much since her father’s death. Each year he’d try to usurp her and her mother by ruffling the feathers of the council and undermining her with the clan.

One year the need to secure more land drove him to interfere. The next was to steal meat for the larder after a difficult hunting season. Hope and her mother had been able to calm the clan’s fears and they’d survived. Even more, they had thrived by relying on their own resources and bettering their hunting techniques due to Faith’s prowess with a bow.

No matter, she wasn’t an
eejit
and Liam kenned this. Why he continued to plague her was beyond her. Hope knew she’d proven she could lead and was in control.

Liam gave her a probing look, one that she knew was taking measure, gauging how far he could push her. “It can wait, laird. ’Twas of no importance.”

“I’m needed in the kitchens.” She turned to leave. “Arrange a meeting in one hour.”

She heard the scratch of gravel of his steps away from her and released a sigh.

“Aye, laird. Looking forward to the games. MacKerry is a braw competitor, to be sure.”

“Aye, Liam,” she said to him. The old man was obvious in his words and actions. It worried her, but she had other matters to attend. The games and upcoming nuptials took much planning and consideration.

She paused and glanced over her shoulder. Liam had retreated to his friends near a small fire. ’Twas common for the elder men to gather and tell stories of their glorified days as warriors. Surely they embellished the tales to huge proportions, but their enthusiastic telling was usually entertaining.

Hope continued on her way to the kitchen to see if Nora needed help with all of the food preparations. As she entered, heat assailed her as the fires were burning to full capacity. The scent of roasting lamb and baking bread filled the air as she inhaled.

“Lass, if you’re here, you’re to work.” Nora handed her a wooden bowl filled with smooth balls of dough. “You ken what to do.”

Hope cast a smirk in Nora’s direction, but knew the work needed to be done.

Nora stood before her, her fist planted on her hips. “Is that the heat blushing your face or did you have another encounter with MacKerry?”

“I’ve work to do,” Hope said and tipped up her chin. If only her maid knew the details of their encounter. Surely, she’d make Hope visit the kirk to confess her lusty sins.

Hope allowed a sly grin at the memories of Aidan’s touch on her. How was she to complete any work if all she thought of were Aidan’s kisses? ’Twas the problem with love. Nay, not love, attraction.

She did not love the man.

’Twasn’t possible after knowing him such a short time.

Nay, Hope just enjoyed his touch and the kisses and how his hands felt caressing her body.

’Twas nothing more than that.

Chapter 15

She waited for the council to arrive. They’d groused as they entered the chamber. Watched her and she ignored their perusal.

’Twas Liam who spoke first. “Ye summoned us, laird.”

Ignoring his tone, she waited until they all sat. “We’ve investigated and there seems to be little evidence MacKerry is guilty.”

Stephen pounded the table with his fist. “Ye’ve investigated? Aye, while he spoke sweetly and turned yer head.”

Liam smirked. “Canna say the lad hasn’t turned yer head, laird.”

Patience, she prayed. “Duncan and I have determined he is innocent.”

Chaos erupted in the chamber. Each man shouted, stood, and tried to share their opinion with her. Was what she expected, but ’twas giving her an ache in her head.

“Cease!”

The men looked to her, grumbled, then sat and downed their ale.

“MacKerry’s innocent. But one question remains.”

“Aye,” Stephen said. “Who is guilty?”

The men nodded and Connor looked to her. “Laird, I trust yer verdict. If ye say MacKerry is innocent, then he is.” He poured a dram of whiskey and passed it to her. “’Tis the man yer to marry. Ye have to ken him.” He patted her shoulder. “Yer like yer father and he kenned men.” With a probing glance, he turned toward Liam. “What say ye? Do ye agree with our laird?”

She saw it, the rage boiling within his gaze. The obvious fury had him sputtering, “Laird, ye do not ken what ye say.”

“Och, Liam. Duncan and I have done all we could to ferret him out, but he
is not
guilty.”

Connor stood by her, flanking her in solidarity. Aye, it pleased her, to be sure. The others watched the exchange closely as if weighing which was the winning side.

“I agree, laird. But I wouldna trust him just yet.”

She rolled her eyes. “I ken, Stephen.”

“’Twas o’ of us, then,” Connor said with a dark tone.

She snapped her attention to him. “Aye,” she agreed, regretfully so. But who else could it have been if not one of their own. ’Twas what worried her the most, the idea someone had stabbed a young man and left him for dead. Why? Who? The questions plagued her and she was determined to discover who had murdered the lad.

“We will continue to investigate . . . all of the clan members.” She gave a pointed look at Liam, testing to see if he’d look away. She loathed suspecting him, but of any of the clan, he’d been the most vocal about how he wanted things to change. Had he tried to force his way with acting dishonorably once again?

He watched her without a twitch and shift of his gaze. Nay, he held her gaze for what seemed to be an indeterminably amount of time.

After a few moments, Hope left the chamber when the discussion moved to hunting. She was exhausted and needed to rest in order to deal with the clan, the competition, and most importantly, MacKerry.

The morning arrived early and bright, filled with excitement. Every member of the clan from the wee bairn to the ancient Henry rose early and eager for the games to begin.

After a quick meal to hold them over to the dinner celebration, Hope led the clan to the main competition area. She was dressed in her best tartan, her father’s Laird brooch secured on her shoulder. She touched it, drew strength from the tradition and fact her father had worn the brooch before her. By Saint Gabriel, she needed her father’s strength.

Aidan and the council surrounded her as she lifted the clan flag. A herald blew a horn. Hope called to the clan, “Let the games begin.”

A thunderous roar sounded through the keep as men hollered and woman clapped their hands and added their own merry cheers.

The horn blew again as a group of young lads grabbed it and chased each other around.

Hope tipped up onto her toes and kissed Aidan’s cheek. “Good luck to you, MacKerry.”

He’d nearly forgotten the games, but her blessing brought the idea back to his mind. “Thank you, Laird MacAlister.”

’Twas folly, this formal talk after what they’d shared, but he’d allow her to act so for the time being. Aidan shifted his weight and nodded to her.

She strode toward the gate with a gentle sway to her hips and a steadfast confidence to the line of her back. Aye, she was a proud one, his Hope.

Aidan followed in Hope’s wake. The clan lined the bailey and surrounded the areas of the upcoming games.

He glanced about to find sight of her, but was unsuccessful.

“Are you ready, MacKerry?” wee Emma called. “Our Duncan is a fierce warrior.”

He rumpled her hair and smiled. “Aye, to be sure. But I think I can best him if you give me a kiss upon my cheek.”

The lass blushed and nodded. Aidan leaned down and accepted her gift. “That’s a lass. Now my luck is certain.”

She tipped her head toward the sword-fighting ring. “He leans to the left before he lunges,” Emma confided in a whisper. “Doona be telling I told ye so.”

He crossed his heart. “’Tis safe with me.”

Aidan didn’t quite know what to do with this bit of information. Aye, it could save him in a pinch. But the fact one of Clan MacAlister had trusted him enough to not only warn him, but give him such insight to his enemy was surprising, truly endearing. The MacKerry Clan had done all they could to discourage him and show him he wasn’t one of them.

Could he possibly be worthy of Emma’s attention and advice? Aidan doubted she’d appreciate his subterfuge. In fact, he was inclined to think once the clan learned of his identity, he’d be shunned as he was by the MacKerrys. And no matter how he wanted to end the ruse, Aidan knew ’twas too soon to be trusting anyone with the information. ’Twas bad enough the council kenned, the wretched lot of them could be his ruin.

After the wedding all would be shared. For he kenned if he shared now, he’d be banished from the clan just as his family had been in the past. Or worse, to be sure. Of course he’d have to ensure the council didn’t mess with his plans. Aidan would have to speak with them, ensure them once he wed Hope, he’d be in control of the lairdship. No matter what his wife-to-be had to say on the matter. ’Twas a matter of pride and his due.

Emma skittered through the crowd into the embrace of her friends. For a moment, he watched as the young girl spoke with grand gesturing motions. All eyes sought him when she pointed his way and Aidan waved and executed an exaggerated wink.

What she’d told them, he didn’t ken, but her support and the support of the other lasses pulled a grin from him.

“Aren’t you getting ready for yer challenge?”

He turned and faced Duncan. “I’m ready.”

The tall man stood with feet spread and his bulky arms crossed before his bare chest. The clan tartan was all he wore besides a long blade secured at his waist. “We’ll see.” Duncan remained near him, his intent gaze never left Aidan’s face. “I’ll be soft with ye, to be sure. Yer a weak ‘un.”

Refusing to rise to the bait, Aidan merely stared at the hulking man until he scoffed and walked away. Aidan had one purpose for so many years, it was all he could concentrate on at the moment. In fact, the games were becoming troublesome and time consuming. He had to marry Hope without delay. The longer it took to secure the union, the better chance she had at learning of his past and true lineage.

And Aidan didn’t want to be her betrothed at the time. He wanted to be her husband in every sense. For if he was, he’d have the power to stop any machinations of the council and that of his wife.

Refocusing on the first competition, Aidan claimed his gear, leather armbands, thick-soled
ghillies
, and his sword. His opponent Cormag stood stoutly as he watched Aidan pace forward.

The tall lad wore the MacAlister tartan as well and a leather jerkin. By the looks of his flaming hair, he could well be the brother of Duncan, but the lack of brawn told otherwise. Thin and wiry, the young man looked no more than ten and five. Aidan wondered if the matching had been a cruel joke by either Hope or Duncan. But then cast the idea aside knowing one had to work their way up if they were unproven. And to Clan MacAlister, he was unproven.

They stared at each other; Aidan ignored the murmuring of the crowd and the crack of the wind against the banners and flags. Instinct steadied taut nerves and directed his actions. Cormag shifted his gaze and shuffled a foot. Aye, the lad was green, but Aidan wouldn’t hold it against him. Knowing he’d win the bout regardless, he held back while Cormag regained his composure.

The lad nodded, one with appreciation and gratitude, then Aidan tossed his heavy sword from hand to hand. The hilt warmed to his touch and they became one. Again instinct gave instruction and Aidan paced toward Cormag as the boy swiped his weapon through the air as if he were batting at flies.

Feeling merciful this early in the day, Aidan backed him in the corner. They parried for a few strokes, Aidan’s sword meeting with the lad’s skin just below his jaw. Fear widened Cormag’s eyes and sweat glistened like raindrops along his brow.

Aidan stepped back and cursed the crowd for muttering displeasure. He cast a glance to the left.

Hope stood, arms crossed over her lovely chest and a grim frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. Did she disagree with his tactics?
Och, why must he allow his attention to drift in her direction when a man with a sword stood three feet from him?

Cormag came toward him with a scowl plastered on his face and sword drawn. Aidan deflected the blow and knocked the weapon from his opponent.

The crowd roared as Cormag bowed to Aidan and shook his hand.

“You’ll do best to see to your face.”

With a shrug, Cormag said, “Could’ve been worse and I thank you for that.”

Aidan laid a firm hand on the lad’s shoulder. “Practice and don’t let your opponent see your plans. You shifted your gaze then moved your feet. Told me of your intentions.”

A ruddy hue covered Cormag’s face and neck as he ducked out of the ring and made way through the break in the crowd.

“Ye beat him, MacKerry, but what of yer next bout?”

Wiping his hand across his sweaty brow, Aidan set his fist at his waist and cocked a brow at Duncan. “I’d do well against the lot of you.”

“Bollocks.”

With a cocky stride, Aidan refrained from responding further and headed toward his next match. While his mind wandered to Hope, he held strong.

In the shadows, Liam watched and waited. Aye, Aidan had done well not to inflict too much pain on the lad Cormag. He gave grudging respect to the mon, but that didna’ dampen the desire to have control. The control Liam had been wanting for seemed to be an eternity.

He covered his mouth to stifle a cough. His chest ached beyond what he ever imagined he could endure, truth be told. Even when he’d fought against Clan Mungo those many years ago and he’d received a blow to a shoulder and leg, the pain felt small, all part of his duty to the clan he loved.

It was that love that spurred him into action now. Summoning Aidan, the marriage, both would sufficiently direct his plans.

Aye, Liam thought as he rubbed his hands together, time wouldna’ be on his side, but with a wee bit of shoving in the right direction, people would do what he wanted. He was certain of it.

With a smile, he headed toward the tankards of ale. ‘Twould soothe his chest and still the tremor of his hands.

“MacKerry,” he called. “I’ve a word with you?”

Aidan snared him with a non-to-friendly glare. Liam remained determined and clasped his forearm. “Just a word.”

“Go ahead, auld man.” MacKerry leaned against a trestle table and crossed his arms before his chest.

“Ye did well by Cormag. Left him with a bit of pride.”

If Liam wasn’t mistaken, a hint of humor snuck into MacKerry’s grimace. His shoulders lowered and the pulse of his jaw ceased.

“No need to dishonor him because of his youth.”

“Aye, aye. Like I said, ye did well by him.” He reached past the lad and grabbed a tumbler of ale. After he offered it to MacKerry, he sized up the man once again.

The more Liam knew of this man, he felt comfortable with his choice. MacKerry was proving to be an honorable man. Although Liam regretted the secrecy of his plans, ’twas necessary in order to protect himself and those close to him. In the end, Hope would understand and MacKerry along with her. Duncan would most likely spit on his grave.

A shout in the distance announced the next match.

“’Tisn’t mine.”

“I didna’ ken someone else fought before you and Duncan.”

MacKerry shrugged.

“Would ye care to take a look?”

With a cock of his brow, MacKerry nodded. Liam knew there was no trust between them. But in time . . . perhaps.

The crowd parted as Aidan approached. Liam held back when he noticed who was fighting. Content to let the events unfold without further interference.

Aidan couldn’t believe the scene before him.

Blood surged through his veins as he saw red.

There she stood with a sword in one hand and her injured arm tucked behind her back.

Was she mad?