Highland Hope (Wild Thistle Triology Book 1) (22 page)

He led her to his chamber and bade her to sit on the humble chair near the window. He leaned against the door after he shut it, not certain where to begin, what to ask, and what he really wanted to know.

“Lad, first, ye have to ken she is attracted to you. More so than I’ve ever see her.” The old woman ruefully shook her head. “Ye ken ’tis hard for her, without Catriona.”

Aidan released some of the tension gnarled in his shoulders. Aye, his Hope was in the same situation. She was about to have the lairdship taken from her just as his family had.

Sympathy slipped into his mind and he brushed it aside. ’Twas too early for sympathy, he needed to hear more of what Nora had to say. He had to achieve his goal and that of his family. A matter of pride and longing filled him as he watched Nora contemplate what to say next.

“Ach, lad, she was a beauty, your mother. She was so full of life.” Nora clutched her chest at the memories. “Not a man around could resist her charm. She asked and they gave if ’twas possible. Except when she asked for the lairdship for your father.”

Aidan exhaled when he realized he was holding his breath. He envisioned his mother and knew her beauty was hard to surpass. But beauty was more than a comely face. She had no strength of character, no honor, and certainly not the fire a man could latch onto and not let go. “Surely, not all were under her spell.”

Nora allowed a soft chuckle. “Aye, ’twas one. And he was the most important of all.”

“Laird MacAlister,” he stated knowing he was right as the puzzle of his past began to form a picture. His mother had reached too high. ’Twas a foolish play for power when his father would have earned the right soon enough. The council had been in his pocket. They’d wanted him. How many times had they told him the council was tired of MacAlister’s ways of peace when they wanted war to obtain more land, holdings,
power
?

Aidan moved to the arrow slit in order to look out the window. The view was small, but it offered him something to make it look like he was contemplating the information Nora had shared.

Unsettled, he turned toward the old woman. “Why did the council send for me?”

Nora looked to the floor and shrugged her shoulders. She knew, but didn’t want to share. He smirked as he eased down to his haunches and tipped her chin up. “I’ve mucked it up with Hope. I need to set things to right.” If ’twas possible.

For so long he’d allowed the past to rule his future. It spurred him forward, drove all of his actions—fueled his vengeance. His da’s vengeance. The needed to make things right, fulfilling his pledge to his father had eaten at him, darkened his soul so much, he was willing to hurt a woman such as Hope and unsettle the entire clan. He pinched his brow, trying to see straight, think clearly.

His gut sank at his selfishness. Aye, he’d made the pledge to his father. But his father’s bitterness, no matter how warranted, had tarnished his view of a good woman.

And through Aidan’s selfishness, he’d broken Hope’s heart. Damaged his own, truth be told. His throat tightened and he hated himself. Hated who he’d become as he tried to bring justice.

Would it make a difference to his father if Aidan failed to become laird? Och, his heart clenched at letting his father down. Nora touched his arm and looked up at him.

She smiled at him. He offered a quick one in return.

He kenned his father. He’d only be disappointed in him if Aidan didn’t follow his heart.

Never had he felt the depth of feelings he had for Hope.

He scoffed and Nora frowned. It seemed as if she kenned his heart better then himself.

Aidan didn’t know when he decided to ignore the council and seek Hope to find a solution. Watching her today as she challenged the men of the clan and refused him nearly tore him in two. The vulnerability darkened her eyes, the angry tilt of her chin, he’d broken her spirit and that just couldn’t be.

She was proud and lovely and the fact he’d crushed her with his deceit ate at his very soul. Never had he invested in thinking of those he’d displaced when he came to retrieve his lairdship, not once.

The truth of it was, he loved her.

Aye, he loved her.

As he looked at Nora, the wise lines on her face and the compassion deep within her eyes, Aidan knew she’d help him.

He had to make things right with Hope and with that, he’d make things right with the entire clan

Nora patted Aidan’s cheek. “There’s a lad,” she said with a cooing tone. “I’ve loved that lass like my own since she was born. At times she’s a pain in the arse, but never has she put herself before others. Never.”

He nodded. “Aye, ’tis the truth of it.” And one of the many reasons he loved her.

“There was much treachery and those who committed the crimes are still on the council,” she said gravely.

He’d speak with Hope alone, but needed help with the council. “We’ve need of a plan to expose the council. Who else will help?”

A broad smile tilted Nora’s mouth. “Why Duncan, of course.”

Hope had rushed to her chamber, slammed the door closed and was greeted by her sisters and Nora.

Aidan had pounded on the door and Hope quickly shook her head to indicate she didn’t want them to answer the door.

Nora left to placate him, she supposed with a frown.

Faith stood and came over to her. Compassion and pity shadowed her eyes as she swept Hope into a tight hug. “The devil take him, I say.”

Honor rose and hovered near them. “Aye, he’s a horrible man.” She awkwardly patted Hope’s shoulder. “Aye, horrible.”

Warmth spread through her despite the situation. ’Twas nice to have their support, the love she felt from them. At times she often felt that they did not realize her responsibilities. They liked to run around the keep as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Well, they fulfilled their duty in their own way. Honor and her healing skills. Faith loved to hunt for the clan, leading the take and making the men grouse about her luck.

“What will we do?” Faith asked as she pulled her sister toward the fire and gently shoved her into the chair. “If MacKerry is laird, where will we go?”

A chill shivered her spine. Never did she think she wouldn’t be laird. Never did she think she’d not be there to help her people like her father had before her.

Nay, she mentally chastised herself.

Hope was laird, now, and for as long as God allowed her to grace the Highlands. The fight for her lairdship would be a worthy bout. Blast the council, Aidan, and those who had stood aside as Liam manipulated the clan.

She knew Liam was responsible for the nameless lad’s death, MacKerry’s arrival, and her current predicament. Aye, deep within her she knew. ’Twas no other answer, but the motive, aye, the motive was still elusive. Why would he kill the lad?

She had to find out their plan. She’d deal with MacKerry later. It was too painful to think of him now. Hope had trusted him, she’d given him something dear and precious. Damn him.

For now, she had to go to the main hall. Clan members awaited her to listen to needs and squabbles. ’Twas still her right and since the council hadn’t denounced her as laird yet, she’d continue to do what she’d always done.

She’d show them how a true laird took care of a clan.

There was a small crowd gathered around the dais, no Aidan, which surprised her. She half expected him to try and take this duty from her. She sat and looked at them and a weariness consumed her. She remembered when her father led, how he’d have her sit by his feet and watch, learning how he solved problems with grace and intellect. Aye, there were some problems which were never solved and it weighted his shoulders. But Hope had found the clan respected him, trusted him, despite what the council or Liam thought.

Auld Crog paced toward the front, his tam gripped tight in his hands. He twisted the cap as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

“What can I do for you, Crog?”

He looked to the ground then peeked up at her. “Laird, ’tis a dire day when a man has to ask for help.”

She leaned forward, truly curious about the man’s request. He’d always been braw and provided for his clan. “Go on.”

“Weel, laird. ’Tis me leg. I canna be doing the crops like I used to.”

Hope nodded and made sympathetic sounds. ’Twas the truth of it. The poor man had hurt his leg hunting a few months back and hadn’t been the same since. With no children to speak of, he didn’t have a lad or lass to help either.

However, Finn MacAlister had more children then he kenned what to do with. “Finn, your Robert and Michael are strong lads. Could they help Crog with the crops?”

Finn pulled up, mulled over the question with a bit of a frown. He then nodded and a flash of a smile curved his mouth. “Aye, m‘laird. ’Tis a sound plan, to be sure.” He kept nodding his head. “’Twould be grand for the lads to learn from Crog.”

Crog came forward and reached for her hand. He gave a squeeze and said, “Thank you, laird.” Tears shone in his eyes and he made his way over to Finn and patted him on the shoulder.

Aye, how she loved when problems were easily solved.

More clansmen stepped forward. Some problems she solved. Others would take time. Especially when it came to bickering between a husband and wife. That process took a bit more diplomacy.

Her gaze kept traveling to the rear of the hall, looking for Aidan. She quickly chastised herself, then her gaze would betray her once again. Not once did he appear.

Several hours later, she was done and ready to head to the kitchens for evening meal preparations. Liam entered the hall, followed by Stephen. They quickly moved about the clan, talking and laughing. But she knew they were there to keep an eye on her, see if the clan was pleased with her decisions or not. ’Twas vexing, but not unexpected.

She shuddered and headed to the one person she’d get the truth—Duncan. Nora had been slippery and she kenned the woman had a soft spot for MacKerry. It was pointless pestering her further when she thought Duncan might be of better help.

Through the back stairwell, she made her way to Duncan’s crofter without running into clan members.

She knocked on the door of the small crofter. Duncan’s gruff voice bade her to enter. The crofter allowed a table, fire, and pot, with the bed hidden behind a curtain. It needed a woman’s touch, Hope thought, as she shoved a sword and tattered tartan out of the way.

“Duncan,” she started to say before her gaze met with MacKerry’s. Her pulse quickened and she covered her throat so he couldn’t see the rapid beat of her heart.

The man sat at Duncan’s table as if he did so every day. A tumbler of ale in his hand, a grim cast to his handsome features. When he furrowed his brow at her, she merely watched him. She banked the emotions hovering to spill over. Passion, anger, frustration. Hope shook her head as if to dispel any idea of emotion and MacKerry.

Yet, his presence in Duncan’s crofter conflicted her. At one moment she wanted to challenge him with her sword. The very next moment she wanted to kiss the hard line of his jaw and tangle her fingers in his long, dark hair.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?” came her response to Aidan’s furrowed brow. She had to remain in control, not allow him to force her to anger.

“Och, Hope,” Duncan started before she pinned him with a lethal look.

“Don’t
‘Och, Hope’
me, Duncan. I’ve had enough of your interference.” She pulled out one of the chairs across from MacKerry. “Why is he here?”

Duncan sat and took a hearty swallow of ale. “He wants to know the council’s plans and their tie to the past.”

Hope felt the tension, thick and volatile. Aidan shifted in the chair as if he were uncomfortable with Hope’s presence, but she continued to watch him, trying her best not to allow any of her feelings to be revealed on her face. But damn those steely eyes. It was as if they saw everything, every twitch no matter how small. “Tell me all you know.” This she directed at Duncan and she saw a hint of interest in Aidan’s gaze.

“Weel, they have been planning this for a few years. They kenned Aidan was ready to claim lairdship. I heard Liam speaking to the others just this morn.” He placed his hand on hers. “If I’d known earlier, I would ha’ told ye, m’laird.”

She slammed her fist against the table. “Why?”

Duncan held up his hands. “Easy, lass.” He took another swig of ale. “Yer father was planning on peace with Clan Mungo. Even talk of the clans joining.” He shrugged. “Liam wanted to sweep them off the Highlands.”

She nodded. “Aye, I ken.”

She peeked at MacKerry. He was watching them intently, nearly as still as a statue, save the flexing of his fist. “Go on.” Hope was weary. Weary of the council. Weary of the clan. Weary of the uncertainly plaguing her.

Duncan ran a rough hand over his face and it scraped against the stubble upon his jaw. “Ye promise not to yell?”

An eerie calm swept over her as she braced herself for what her cousin was about to say. ’Twould be dire, no doubt. “I can’t promise.” She gripped the table and waited.

He glanced at MacKerry, then at her. “’Twas Liam who felled yer father.”

She gasped. It didn’t matter she suspected as much, to hear the truth told so baldly was horrendous. Hope swallowed back bile as she stood and paced the small home. She clutched her hands before her and wondered what to say when words wouldn’t form.

Grief, soul-consuming grief, filled her. Her knees buckled and MacKerry caught her before she met the floor. She snarled at him as he brought her back to the table and gently set her in the chair. Duncan gave her whiskey. She grimaced as the fiery liquid chased down her throat.

After a few moments, she broke the heavy silence. “I’m going to kill him.”

MacKerry remained stoic as he nodded. Duncan stood and blustered. “I wouldna’ have told ye if ye were going to kill ‘im.”

She covered her face with her hands. “How can I not? He killed my father, the laird of the clan. He has played us all as fools.”

Duncan patted her shoulder with his beefy hand. “We have no proof, m’laird. Just what I overheard.”

MacKerry swore under his breath. “Without proof the clan will not believe you.”

“They’ll believe me,” she countered. They had to. “And you have no say in this, MacKerry.”