Highland Hope (Wild Thistle Triology Book 1) (17 page)

Aidan attempted to remain back, but an innate urge forced him to advance as if a protective instinct laid a hand on his back and gave a hearty shove. “What the devil are you doing?” he bellowed.

Hope turned, her face flushed bright red and her chest heaving.

Aidan rushed forward, his drawn sword clanked against Hope’s opponents. Aidan turned his sword as it caught on the other man’s and whipped it to the ground. Fury, white-hot fury, flared through him and all he saw, all he knew, was to protect Hope at all costs. He rushed the man. Pinned him against the side of the barn.

As he squeezed, shouts and screams broke through his rage. Men attempted to pull him from his quarry. All to no avail.

“Cease!” Hope’s voice rose above the crowd’s and he looked over his shoulder at her. Fury clenched her face and she was a sight to behold with sparking eyes and a firm mouth. Even as she stood, feet wide apart and fist firmly set at her waist, he couldn’t take his eyes from her.

He released the man who immediately crumbled onto the hard earth.

Hope shoved through the crowd, a tempest swirled in her eyes. “I asked Bryce to fight me. ’Twas for show.” She helped the man rise. “You’re too bold, MacKerry.”

In truth, he felt his actions were warranted. He kept his gaze upon Hope and said, “My betrothed will not fight anymore this day.
As I pledge
.”

She gasped, sputtered, then clamped her mouth shut. Rage still flared in her eyes and she was never so lovely to him. A true Highland lass, to be sure. Yet, Aidan thanked the Lord for a moment of peace because he knew it would be short lived.

“I’ll fight if I please,” she said.

Ah, there it was. She was trying to best him in front of the clan. He presumed she did so to steady her position as laird. As a woman with power was want to do. And as it should vex him, Aidan felt something else as he suppressed a grin and the chuckle making its way up his chest. All he wanted to do was protect her and save her from harm. And he’d made a fool out of himself with his rash actions.

Aye, protect her, the instinct of a man who cared for his betrothed acted. He dragged his fingers through his hair. She’d done it. She’d made him care for her.

Bollocks
.

He reached down and held out his hand to the lad Bryce. The man glanced at it, then accepted. Aidan helped him stand and slapped him on the back. The young man nodded as he rubbed his shoulder. ‘Twould most likely hurt him more on the morrow.

“Sorry, lad.”

Bryce held up his hands. “Not a worry, MacKerry. Next time I won’t make it so easy on you.” He grinned and slapped Aidan on the back.

He shifted his hip and rested his fist at his waist as he watched Hope lead Bryce away. She looked back at him and cast a disgruntled look at him. Her arm twined with his and her head tucked low in conversation. Most likely apologizing her betrothed was a fool. Should he say something, Aidan wondered, then pulled back when he realized he was following her. Instead, he decided to lure the clan’s attention from Hope back to him. And push any thoughts of caring for her from his mind as he prepared to spar.

Strategy, he mused, a strong strategy to secure his position with the clan, and with Hope, make him worthy of her.

“Duncan,” he called, “’tis time, lad.”

A man behind him, Lachlan if he remembered the name correctly, stepped forward and began directing the crowd to the ring.

“This way, MacAlisters. This way.”

He then stood before Aidan, his dark hair and eyes settled upon him with deep inspection. “Ye’ll do, lad. But ye have to realize she’s been laird for many a year. Coddle her a wee bit and she’ll be lapping out o’ yer hand before ye ken.” The man winked then bellowed to his wife to fetch him some ale. Aye, ‘twould appear as if the man had coddled his wife into submission. And while Aidan longed for a peaceful existence, he was certain he didn’t want a meek wife. Aye, he knew he wanted a lass full of fire and gumption. One who had the strength and conviction to protect those she loved, one with rich, mahogany hair and eyes as green as a springtime loch. The thought stunned him for a moment, the discovery of caring for Hope so fresh and new. Just as quickly as the unbidden thoughts arrived, they were swept away with the presence of a hulking, flaming haired Scotsman.

“Bring yer best, MacKerry. Ye’ll need it.”

The direct challenge amused Aidan.

“Aye, ye smile fer now, but ye ken it won’t last for long.”

Aidan stretched his arms and flexed his wrist. He arched his sword before him, then pulled it up sharply.

Duncan mimicked his motions.

The men circled each other as if they were sworn enemies.

By Saint Elizabeth, these men would fight to their death. Hope bit her lip as she watched the fight with a reluctant spirit. If only she could hide in her chamber, but curiosity and the fact the clansmen kept one eye on the fight and one eye on her, stopped her from leaving out of fear.

Hope moved closer to the ring, a makeshift barrier of roping separated the spectators and the warriors.

The sun bore down on them. Hot and bright. Aidan parried easily with Duncan. Strong movements led him as he held off any of his opponent’s strikes. Sweat glistened on his face, arms, and chest. His arms bunched and bulged tightening the leather bands just above his elbows. Long, muscle-bulked legs carried him with grace and surety.

Hope half admired the man, just as she cursed her foolishness for even proposing the games. In fact, the event had lost any festive element. Instead, a serious tone hummed above the crowd and Hope witness many a man watching the fight with an intensity she’d never forget.

Just as worry filled her, so did pride. The man who’d been gentle with Cormag. The man who’d developed a kinship with the men and the burly Duncan. The man whose kisses left her wanting with such need, she could barely contain herself when she was near him.

Forcing her gaze back to Aidan, she held her breath as a high-arched blow nearly unsettled him. Duncan spoke to Aidan, so low, she wasn’t privy to what was said, but by the dark scowl on Aidan’s face, she kenned ’twasn’t a complement.

Aidan had fought twice this day and Hope worried his strength had ebbed. But he continued, minute after minute, challenge after challenge. Pride flared within her. ’Twas her betrothed in the ring, she thought with a smile.

And he was achieving what she’d proposed. No matter what was thrown at him, he came back, resilient, focused.

He struck Duncan with a thunderous blow, forcing the equally strong man to his knees. Aidan swung his sword in a circle and brought the point to Duncan’s neck. He held, just as the clan held their breath and sweat ran down Hope’s back.

Aidan gripped the collar of Duncan’s shirt, his sword still prone. With a grunt, he shoved Duncan to the ground. A whoop of congratulations rose in the air. Some clansmen slapped their friend on the back, others shook hands. And a few exchanged a bit of coin, as they had gambled on the fight.

He’d given mercy were she was certain he wouldn’t. Nay, she kenned he would. Releasing her breath, she waited until the clan quieted and then walked into the ring.

Aidan stood as proud as the Highlands themselves. Drenched in sweat and with a broad grin upon his mouth. He watched her with those stormy eyes of his as she came forward. Hope halted, then proceeded when he crooked a finger at her.

When she reached his side, he encircled her with an arm. Pulling her hard against his firm body, his gaze never shifted from hers despite the shouts of encouragement.

“Did I meet your expectations, lass? Am I worthy of you?”

Before she could answer, his mouth claimed hers. Hot and fierce, he plundered her lips. He smelled of male, sweat and leather, and tasted of apple tart. Her stomach stirred and fire blossomed deep within her. She heard the clank of his sword hit against the hard earth and pebbles as his feet shifted and his other arm wrapped around her. Hope felt each and every part of him. His strong chest against her breasts, the rigid shaft between his legs nestled at the apex of her thighs. She felt delicious, wanton. Each nerve in her body quivered as his lips trailed along her jaw.

“Did I, lass?” he whispered huskily, then groaned as she pressed harder against him.

“Aye,” she managed before he sought her mouth once again.

Heady sensations raged through her and she knew not where she was and didn’t care. He had claimed her. Branded her as his and no one else’s. Despite her reluctance to marry and even stauncher reluctance to be claimed by a man, Hope didn’t want the feelings Aidan wrought in her to end. Ever.

He pulled from her, his gaze locked on hers. “We’ve an audience.”

She laughed as heat raced to her face. Hope looked over her shoulder and cringed when she saw men staring at them with bemused grins plastered on their faces. “Och, I’m a fool.”

“Nay, you’re pleased I’m still in one piece.”

Hope tipped up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.

Aidan grinned. “’Twas too tame for a lass of your spirit. I’ll be expecting more later.”

Anticipation excited her and she nodded. When he released her, she nearly sunk back into his embrace, the absent heat of his body left her cold. She couldn’t quite discern when her heart had capitulated and began yearning for Aidan’s attention, but ’twas troubling to say the least. She’d have to tread lightly if she were to retain her position and allow the man some freedom with his kisses.

For she’d found that she liked the feel of his lips against hers and the sensations wrought from such an embrace.

Chapter 16

Hope sighed as she lifted a heaping tray of bannock buns onto the table. The festivities had lasted three entire days and she was tired, sore, and more than ready for them to end.

Just as she was ready for them to end, a thought brought her upright. When the games ended, then she’d have to announce her intentions in regards to Aidan. The games were for him to prove his worth, after all. And he’d certainly done that and more.

A dance was scheduled and more than likely the council would want her to make a formal announcement as to MacKerry’s suitability. In fact, Liam had relayed a message that she was to meet the council within the hour.

Hope neatened the table and collected empty trays. With a moment’s hesitation, she rearranged the remaining platters and sent for more ale to fill the pitchers. She glanced about the bailey and wondered where many of the help were, but then surmised they were resting up for the dancing to come. She’d have to bring the rest of the food out and set the table properly in order for the job to get done. Aye, and didn’t she have to do things herself in order to do them right?

A familiar scent wafted by her nose, teasing her senses and drawing a smile from her.

“Should you be doing all the work?” Aidan asked as he leaned close to her ear and pressed against her back. “Care to take a walk?”

She inhaled and closed her eyes, then quickly pulled away from the enticement of his touch. “Can’t you see there’s work to be done?”

“Coward,” he whispered with amusement as he turned and sauntered away. “If you care to join me, I’ll be by the river.”

Care to join him? She wanted to do nothing else, but knew Liam would search her out if she were but a minute late for the meeting. And she feared if she met Aidan by the river, ‘twould urge more than a kiss.

Regardless of work to be done, she watched him walk through the bailey and out the palisade. His long strides carried him with a grace belying his brawn. She wasn’t the only person watching him, Hope discovered with a glance about the bailey.

Hope felt like a fool. She wasn’t the type to swoon over a man. Nay, she was the kind of woman who led when no other would and who would lay down her life to protect the clan.

She wasn’t the kind of woman to fall in love, or even be enamored, to be sure. That was for the other women of the keep, those who didn’t hold her overwhelming responsibilities.

And her responsibility for the clan outweighed any responsibility she had for herself or even her heart.

She set down a tray, suddenly feeling lonely and in need of a mother’s touch. To her dismay, she realized that she hadn’t a friend to confide her troubles. A symptom of being laird, she supposed.

She headed toward the kitchens to return trays and find Nora. If one person could be counted on to discuss her feelings, ’twould be Nora.

Faith scrambled out of the main entrance and ran into Hope. “Och, Sister. Watch yourself.”

Faith smiled and dimples pierced her cheeks. With a toss of her curly mane of hair, she nodded and turned to run toward the stables.

In her wake, two lads about her sister’s age burst from the main building with egg dripping down their angry, red faces.

“Where’d she go, m’laird?” one asked, Thomas she thought his name was, but she’d often mistaken him for his twin William who stood beside him.

“Ah, lads, in a bit of trouble with the lass, are you?” Hope admired her sister’s spirit, even when such seemingly innocent lads bore the brunt of her exuberance.

“All he did was ask her for a dance,” William said. He swiped at the yoke oozing down his cheekbone.

Hope held a chuckled at the shocked expressions on the lad’s faces. ’Twas like her sister, to react in such a manner when asked to dance by a lad. “Och, well, you have her answer, don’t you?”

Thomas’ shoulders sagged as he walked toward the palisade, presumably to wash the egg from his body in the stream. Hope felt for the boy, but couldn’t be bothered with her sister’s admirers at the moment. A flash of sympathy had her calling to Thomas. “Lad, ask Faith again. When a lass teases you as such, means she likes you.”

“Truly?” he asked with a squeaky voice. “She likes me?” He wiped at the egg dripping from his face and shook his head. “Women,” he muttered.

Hope smiled and continued on her way to the kitchen. She stopped along the way to receive congratulations from members of the clan and to coo over a newly born babe.

“Would ye like to hold her?” the mother, Bruna, asked. “’Twould be lucky for the wee lass.”

Hope wasn’t certain of that opinion, considering she’d probably drop the bairn. She wiped her hands on her kilt, lest the babe slip right between her sweaty palms. “She’s a heavy one,” Hope said as she held the baby. “What name did you choose?”

“Catriona.”

Hope quickly looked at the woman and witnessed a sense of pride had blossomed over her face. “’Tis a fine choice,” she murmured, trying to still the tremor of her voice and the ache of missing her mother.

“Ye have to watch her head, m’laird. Here, crook yer elbow and cradle her there.” Bruna looked on as a proud mother would.

Hope followed her directions and stared into the face of the babe. By Saint Brigid, she was a braw lass. A tiny tug pulled at her stomach as she watched the child yawn and close her eyes. As if her body had a mind of its own, she started to rock back and forth as if to lull the babe to sleep.

“There ye go, m’laird. Ye’ve got the gist of it.”

Bruna went on to fold some bits of cloth as she kept an eye on Hope and wee Catriona. As Hope cradled the baby, she watched in awe as Catriona opened her eyes. They were almond shaped and Hope silently named her Cat, ’twould suit her.

“What a sight.”

She frowned. “Aye, MacKerry. And what are you havering about?”

He smiled at Bruna who looked up at him as if MacKerry himself were king. Hope rolled her eyes heavenward and prayed for strength to deal with the man.

MacKerry scooped the bairn from her arms as if he’d done so every day of his life. Hope eyed him warily as he snuggled Cat and kissed her brow.

“She’s lovely, Bruna.” A full grin widened his mouth as he inhaled the scent of the baby, the same scent that had attracted Hope. And the sight of MacKerry with a babe in his arms pulled at her, tugged, and twisted emotions she needed to hold at bay. ’Twouldn’t do to reveal how he tangled her with such an innocent action.

Hope crossed her arms before her chest and tapped her foot. “How is it you’re so at ease around Catriona, MacKerry?”

His smile broadened. “A fine name, Bruna, a fine name.”

“Thank you . . . MacKerry.”

Hope watched the exchange with interest as MacKerry spoke with ease to Bruna. And how did he know her name so quickly? It was if he’d arrived and bewitched the clan into liking him immediately.

She stepped back to observe quietly and to see if she could glean any useful information. She didn’t know what to look for, but she trusted her instincts.

However, the only insight revealed was MacKerry was very charming and had a way with children and women alike. “Humph.”

“Did you say something, m’laird?”

Hope switched her gaze to Bruna. “Nay. Just clearing my throat.” She felt MacKerry’s inspection to the marrow of her bones, but she refused to acknowledge him. “I’m needed in the kitchens. Take care, Bruna.”

The woman nodded. “Aye, m’laird.”

Hope tried to shake the feeling she was being watched. ’Twas unsettling, to be sure, how Aidan’s gaze made her feel. But she couldn’t shake the heat and longing surging through her veins after a mere few moments in MacKerry’s presence. The man had gotten under her skin so quickly.

The image of her father appeared in her mind, stopping Hope in her tracks. He wasn’t injured as he’d been the last time she saw him. Nay, her father was robust and a laughing gleam filled his gaze as he led the clan. The image was so clear, she reached out to touch him, grasp onto his strength and mirth. She blinked and the image vanished. Hope clutched her chest as she pitched her gaze to the ground and walked once again to the kitchen. She entered the bustling kitchen and leaned against the door jam and exhaled.

Would her father be pleased with her alliance with MacKerry? Is that why she saw him smiling. Her heart hammered against her chest as she tried to understand what she was feeling, what she imagined her father would say about her husband-to-be.

“Good afternoon, laird,” Maeve said as she stirred the huge pot over the fire and the heat put a rosy blush on her cheeks. A familiar sight in the kitchen, Maeve helped handle the food demands of the clan with ease.

Nora tipped her head at Hope and removed bread from the oven as steam traveled upward and curled Nora’s hair.

Wee Emma fetched baskets for her mother and snatched a tart without anyone noticing except for Hope. Emma blanched and stilled like a deer spying a hunter when she saw Hope.

To ease the lass, Hope winked and smiled. Emma bobbed a quick curtsy then fled to enjoy her bounty. Hope watched her leave, admiring her carefree manner and the gift of having no worries save a pilfered tart.

With a quick inhale, Hope paced toward Nora and found strength in the mere workings of the kitchen. Organized, a well-coordinated team who kenned what was needed and how to get it done. She viewed the entire clan as such. Each person had value, position, and duties. Without such, they wouldn’t have been able to keep peace amongst them or bordering clans.

“What can I do for you, m’laird?”

Hope startled as Nora interrupted her thoughts. “Aye,” she replied as she tried to remember why she’d entered the kitchen. “Aye, I’ve to . . . to speak with you.”

Nora cocked a brow as she removed loaves of bread, placed them to cool on a rack. She swept her hands clean of flour and placed her fist at her waist. “I havena all day. Speak.”

Hope chuckled. “In my chamber.”

“Laird,” her voice rose in pitch. “I’ve more bread to bake and stew to stir. Can’t this wait?”

She waited a moment, then leaned in to whisper into the old woman’s ear.

“I’ll meet you in your chamber.”

Hope kissed Nora’s brow and raced to her chamber. As she entered the main hall, she smiled and greeted Angus as he guarded the boar roasting in the large fireplace. “Make sure the lads don’t eat the meat before it’s done.” She laughed as he glanced at the boar and glanced about the main hall as if lads were waiting to steal a bite. He nodded then furrowed his brow as he started basting the beast again.

She patted his shoulder and headed up the stairs taking them two at a time. After rushing to her room, Hope sat in the chair her mother favored before the hearth. For a few moments, she stared at the fire, then she stood and walked over to the window. As she inspected the clan, her heart raced.

Why she was so excited was beyond her. She couldn’t understand the rapid beat of her pulse and her quickening breath. To steady herself, Hope leaned her forehead against the thin pane of window glass.

MacKerry strode across the bailey, strong, confident and . . . male. Her heart hitched. She swallowed as she looked at him. Hope continued to watch him as he spoke with some men and when he crouched on his hunches to fluff Emma’s hair.

Her heart hitched again.

Where was Nora? She still had to meet with Liam.

Hope tore her gaze from MacKerry and the enticement of his brawn and gentle nature with Emma. Instead, she watched the rest of the men ready to partake in further competition. Pride inched its way up her spine as they loosened their muscles with drills she’d taught them. ’Twas a pleasing sight, to be sure.

The door swung open and Nora entered as if she were on the back of a sturdy breeze. “Quick, tell yer Nora yer troubles.”

A smile pulled at her mouth. Hope waved to her mother’s chair by the fire as she sat in her father’s. Just at the edge, far away from the back. She’d never sat in the chair except when she was but a lass and upon her father’s lap. Banking the bittersweet memories, Hope cleared her throat and stared at her hands. “MacKerry . . . he’s, he doesn’t appear to be as barbaric as I thought.”

Nora tipped back her head and laughed. Heat flushed Hope’s face. “Och, you don’t have to be happy.”

“’Tis what you deserve. All these years you’ve havered on and on about no’ needing a man.” Nora laughed so hard her belly shook. “He’s a grand one to be starting with, lass.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “A grand lad indeed.”

Hope slouched back into the chair.

“Not to worry. MacKerry seems to like yer company.”

But weren’t men indiscriminate? Hope had seen many a man flit from one lass to another. Hadn’t some of her men chased after a different lass each night to keep their pallet warm?

“But I’m laird. I have to be careful, to be sure.”

Nora scooted forward until all of her ample body tilted off the chair and gathered Hope’s hands into her own. The old woman’s hands felt warm against her own and so, so secure. Hope closed her eyes.

“You need to do this. You must be allowing MacKerry and you to marry.” Nora’s voice cracked. “For your mother and father. Ye must.”

Hope’s eyes flew open at the urgency in her voice. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Och, ’tis nothing. You ken you need to marry.” She slipped her hands from Hope’s and a strained smile wavered on her lips. 

“Tell me.”