The Highlander's Enchantment Page 4

  “A battle wound, lad.”

  “Aye, but what happened?” the lad insisted.

  “I saved my king’s life.”

  The lad let out an exasperated sound, shoulders rising and falling with the huff of his breath. “Aye, but, laird, what happened?”

  Edan flattened his lips, considering whether to say it was a story for another time. He decided he’d best not for two reasons. One, he didn’t want the lad to ask again, or cause someone else to ask in his place. And two, perhaps his story would lend just a drop of clout to his position. If they knew he could protect the king, was willing to take blows that should have led to death, then perhaps they would see him as a strong leader capable of keeping them safe.

  “A Sassenach aimed to thrust his sword into King Robert’s chest. I leapt from my horse, taking the blow myself.”

  “And ye dinna wear a patch?” the lad asked, before his father shoved him behind his back and made profuse apologies.

  Edan chuckled. “There’s nay need to apologize. The lad is only curious. Though I will caution that being curious can put one in danger.” He met the gaze of the lad from where he peered from behind his father. “I dinna wear a patch, because I’m not ashamed of my scars, and because a patch would leave me half-blind, whereas now I still have us of my eye. I earned my scars in battle serving my king.” He broke eye contact with the lad and turned to the rest of the crowd. “Are there any other questions afore I seek out my brother’s final resting place?”

  As he suspected, with that particular line, none raised their hand or dared shout out.

  “Then I shall ask ye all to join me in the great hall for supper tonight.”

  “Wait,” Raibert called out before the people could disperse. “We must pledge our allegiance to ye, our new laird.”

  Edan swallowed, wanting to say it could wait and knowing it could not. He nodded, not sure he could find his voice if he wanted to, as one by one the men, women and children of his clan knelt before him, hands over their hearts, just as they had before his brother, da and grandfather, loudly professing their loyalty, their allegiance. His chest swelled with bridled emotion that yearned to be unleashed, but he kept himself contained, lest he break one of the rules he’d given himself—never show emotion, whether they be friend or foe.

  “I accept your pledges and am honored to be your laird. Rise,” he said, his voice stronger, perhaps more guttural than he intended.

  The clansmen rose and slowly dispersed, all but Raibert, whose gaze fanned over the people and the kirk before finding Edan’s.

  “I’ll take ye to the kirk,” Raibert said.

  “I know where it is.” Edan’s throat was tight.

  “Aye.” Raibert shifted, and Edan could tell that he wanted to go with him, but this was something Edan needed to do on his own.

  He needed to be alone right now, lest he break.

  Edan cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak steadily. “I appreciate it, Raibert. But ’tis not necessary.”

  At last, Raibert relented. He turned to attend his own duties as Edan made his way out of the postern gate toward the kirk and the graves beyond. His parents were buried there, along with two little bairns, his brothers who’d never made it past their third and fifth summers respectively.

  Oh, how his mother had grieved for them. The death of a child was not uncommon; it was to be expected even. But that didn’t make it any less painful. Edan was certain that losing her bairns had eventually led to his mother’s own demise. Her health had grown worse as the years went on, and then one evening just a few days before their annual Yule and Hogmanay celebration, her heart had given out. Though the healers had been hopeful, she’d never recovered. She’d slipped peacefully into the night.

  Edan’s father had married two years later, and his new wife had borne a daughter. However, both mother and child passed not two weeks later. After that, his father had devoted his time to growing his clan’s ability to travel by sea, building birlinns and making attempts to sail them to France to trade. Journeys he completed twice, but on the third, he never returned. There was no word from him in France from the inquiries Connor made, and so he had been pronounced dead two years ago.

  The gate to the graveyard creaked as Edan pushed it open. His father’s grave was empty, but said a prayer over it anyway, before finding Connor’s freshly dug final resting place.

  Edan knelt before the grave, his knees sinking into the sun-warmed earth. He crossed himself, pressed a hand to the freshly turned mound and whispered, his voice choked with emotion, “Och, brother, if ye’d wanted me home, all ye needed to do was ask.”

  Why did ye have to die?

  As long as he’d been away, Edan had always known he had people at home. His brother, his da. And now they were both gone.

  He was well and truly alone in the world.

  Chapter 3

  Blair jolted out of sleep to find her two cousins bouncing on her bed, their eyes gleaming from the glow of a candle they must have brought into her room and now sat on her bedside table.

  “Has something happened?” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, thinking someone would only wake her so cruelly in the middle of the night if there were an emergency. Goodness, were they under attack?

  “Not yet. But finally, ye’re awake,” Aurora said with a giggle. “We’ve been calling your name forever.”

  Aislinn wiggled her brows and rubbed her hands together. “Are ye ready for all your dreams to come true?”

  Blair looked from one of them to the other, not fully comprehending what they were doing in her chamber. “We’re not under attack?”

  The twins looked at one another with identical expressions of bewilderment and then turned back to face her.

  “Do ye nae remember, silly? Your letter.” Aislinn rolled her eyes.

  Blair resisted the urge to roll her own eyes. Were they still serious about going through with this mad plan? Aye, she’d attempted to make a fun game out of their idea last night, but that didn’t mean she was going to go through with it. Not on her life. Thank goodness she’d already burned the letter. Now it was time to let her cousins know that while it had been fun yesterday, she wasn’t going through with it today—or tonight, whatever time it was.

  She scooted herself up by the elbows and attempted to reflect the smile on her cousins’ faces.

  “I do remember,” she said softly. “But I’m afraid I had to toss the letter into the fire.”

  “Och, nay! Did your mother see it? Was she cross?”

  Blair decided to go with the solution so easily given to her. “She almost did. I burned it before she had a chance to read it.” And that was theoretically not a lie. They didn’t need to know she’d burned it before her mother even came into the room.

  Aislinn bounced off the bed and went toward the writing table. “Ye’ll have to write another, and this time, we’ll be sure she doesna see it.”

  Blair cringed, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I’m nae so sure ’tis a good idea anymore.”

  “What? Come on,” Aurora said, taking Blair’s hand and tugging her up a little more, forcing her knees to drop back down. Then, as if to soothe her into agreeing, she said softly while nodding, “Dinna ye want to get married?”

  Blair tried not to laugh. If only her cousins knew how many times Greer had tried to trick her into doing things with the same subliminal cues. “I do, but this is probably not the best way to go about it,” Blair said, quite logically, she was certain.

  Aurora laughed. “How about we do it just for fun? Pretend then.” She glanced at her twin sister, and Blair felt a warning bell go off inside her mind.

  “Pretend?”

  “Aye. Write the letter. We’ll sneak down to the firth, but we won’t toss it in. If anything, we can just dip our toes in the water to say we did it. I’ll even help ye burn it when we’re done.”

  “I’m nae certain I want to do that.” Blair was finding it hard to fight her cousins on this. Pretendin
g wouldn’t cause harm to come to her family, but it was most definitely still the middle of the night and going out to the firth required sneaking out of the castle and beyond the walls. “Is it nae dangerous?”

  “Have ye never snuck out of your castle at Dunrobin?” They both looked shocked.

  Snuck out? Nay, with a capital “N.” Of course she hadn’t snuck out. “I would prefer to sleep.”

  “Blair,” Aurora said, her voice dragging in a note of authority. “Ye promised.”

  Had she? “’Tis just a silly game. And one not worth getting hurt over.” Blair returned her cousin’s words with her own note of authority.

  “Who is going to get hurt? We do it all the time.”

  Blair let out a long, ragged sigh. She was going to be at Castle Ross for several more weeks, and at this rate, her cousins were not going to relent until she did what they wanted. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep, back to her strict adherence to the rules. Even if the idea of sneaking out to the firth held a bit of excitement to it.

  Perhaps, just this once, she could do something truly risky. Och, but the repercussions should they be caught… Was it worth it? Nay! Definitely not.

  And yet, she found her voice betraying her. “All right.”

  “I can write the letter for ye.” Aislinn’s grin turned downright treacherous, which had Blair tossing back the covers just so she could take control of the situation.

  “Nay, nay,” she called as she bounded across the cold stone floor and practically ripped the quill from Aislinn’s fingers. It might be quite possible that her twin cousins were even more mischievous than Greer. “I want to do it. ’Tis my fantasy husband, is it nay?”

  “Aye, ’tis.” The twins rubbed their hands in unison. “And make it better than the one ye penned last night.”

  Relief flooded her as the quill touched her fingers. If she was going to go through with it, then at least she was going to be in charge.

  Oh, this was such a bad idea. Her fingers trembled, causing the feather of the quill to tremble, which she tried to hide. With her back to her cousins, feeling their breath on the nape of her neck, she leaned over the table and pressed the top of the quill into the ink, leaving a droplet of black on the parchment.

  Just pretend.

  Blair had to take a deep, steadying breath to calm herself, for she was only a heartbeat away from calling the whole thing off and allowing them to torment her for the foreseeable future. She was willing to bet her sisters never found themselves in a situation like this.

  They should call me Blundering Blair. Though she would keep this small act of idiocy a secret, too.

  “Well, hurry then,” Aurora encouraged. “Everyone will be up soon.”

  “Aye, and we can only distract the guards for so long.”

  Blair curled her toes on the wooden floor, feeling a chill rise through the soles of her feet up through her legs and centering around her heart. How did they plan to distract the guards? Because she was fairly certain it would be a lot like what Aurora did with the stable hand.

  Biting her lip, she pressed the quill to the parchment, the black blot growing larger. What would Bella do? She wrote about knights saving ladies, and ladies saving knights. Blair closed her eyes, imagining a warrior riding over the moors to save her. That seemed a good fantasy, did it not? A secret fantasy. She scribbled hastily before she lost her nerve. This was all pretend; besides, what did it matter?

  “There, all done,” she breathed out, her heart leaping up to somewhere in her neck.

  “Blair the Not So Fair,” Aislinn teased, pointing to where the words were scratched in ink. “A winning touch.”

  Aislinn and Aurora grinned like little she-devils and nodded, pride in their eyes. “There just may be hope for you after all, Cousin Blair.”

  Blair didn’t like the sound of that at all. Hope for being a hellion… Nay, she’d never survive. Her heart couldn’t take it. She couldn’t be filled with any more doubts or regrets.

  Do the right thing. Be the right thing. Calm. Reserved. Follow the rules.

  “Get dressed,” Aurora ordered as she tucked the rolled parchment into a bottle and shoved a cork deep into it. She slipped the bottle beneath her cloak and out of sight.

  Blair noted then that her cousins were fully clothed—even had their boots laced and cloaks on. And she had the sudden realization they had been planning to sneak out to the firth, whether Blair agreed or not.

  Goodness. How many nights had they done this before now? Perhaps at their own castle they were used to doing such, knew the way, were safer. But here? This was a new place. New even to Liam. How could they be so certain they would be safe? If Blair didn’t go and they got hurt, she would never forgive herself.

  Perhaps it was best to join them, only because she would be the only levelheaded one among them. This had often been the stance she took with Greer. If there was one sensible person among them, then disaster could be averted. And she preferred to be the one making certain that any catastrophe was dashed.

  “If anything should appear amiss, we will come back,” Blair said, attempting to use her own no-nonsense tone.

  “Aye, of course.” They rushed to agree, nodding emphatically, which only did the opposite of alleviating her worry.

  “And I want to hold the bottle.”

  With a pout, Aurora produced the bottle and pressed it into Blair’s hand, the glass cool to the touch on her palm.

  Her stomach did a not-so-tiny flip as she allowed her cousins to toss a gown over her head and tie it in place. She slipped into her boots, and then she was in her cloak, and they were rushing her from the room.

  The corridor was dimly lit, illuminated only by a single torch at the end. No one was about, not even those in charge of stoking the morning fires. What time was it? Surely it couldn’t be close to dawn if no one was moving around yet.

  Her cousins led her down the servant’s stairs, away from the front entrance and back toward the kitchen, startling awake a wee lad who slept curled before the hearth.

  “Shh…” Aurora said, holding a finger to her lips.

  Aislinn produced a sweet from within her cloak and handed it to the spit-boy for his assurance that he’d not seen them and would allow them back in when they knocked. The next thing Blair knew, they were out in the gardens and racing through the chilly, dewy grasses toward the postern gate.

  Her heart was pounding so hard she could hardly make out the sounds of her steps, or the whisper of grass against her boots. The leather covering the tips of her toes grew damp, and a chill nipped through her limbs.

  When they reached the gate, the guard on top frowned down at them, causing Blair to breathe a deep sigh of relief. Good, he would tell them to go back to bed, and she could finally slip back between her sheets and warm blankets, this nonsense over with.

  But with a gentle bat of her lashes and the promise of a kiss, Aurora had the guard practically vaulting over the wall in his haste to open the gate to meet her. Blair gaped in horror.

  “Sir,” she started to hiss, but Aislinn pinched her hard on the arm, redirecting her attention, and before she could gain her senses, Blair was being tugged away from the couple enfolding themselves in a heated kiss.

  “Come on. We dinna want to watch that,” Aislinn admonished, as if Blair had been intent on doing just that.

  They raced toward the Moray Firth, which gurgled not too far in the distance.

  “Will she be all right with the guard?” Blair called in a pitch slightly higher than a whisper. Goodness, this was going from bad to worse.

  Aislinn snorted. “The proper question is: will he be all right with her?”

  Blair wasn’t certain what that meant, and it had her feeling more and more naïve. How sheltered a life she’d led up until now. Blair assumed a lass didn’t receive her first kiss until it was with the man she was to wed, unless one was a lightskirt—but ladies were never harlots, and yet her cousin…

  How very straight and narrow
Blair was. Aislinn and Aurora acted as though kissing were the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps it was. Possibly Blair was even more shielded than even she realized. What a silly notion that she’d thought by going with her cousins she could protect them. More the fool her. By the time they reached the water’s edge, Blair had to bend over to catch her breath, while standing beside her, Aislinn looked as though she could have made the run a hundred more times and still not been tired.

  “I dinna feel good about this, about leaving her. What if she is to lose her virtue? I could never forgive myself.”

  “Ye’re not responsible for her.”

  “I am older.”

  Aislinn shrugged. “So am I, but thirty seconds.” She giggled. “But Aurora has always done what she wants.”

  “What does Aunt Aliah think of it?”

  “She doesna know, of course, ye ninny. And ye’re not going to tell her. Besides, Aurora would never lose her virtue afore she was wed. She’s not an idiot.”

  “What if she doesna have a choice in the matter?” Blair wrinkled her nose, realizing that perhaps she was in fact the wisest of the three.

  “What do ye mean?”

  “The guard may decide what she’s offered is more than what she was in fact willing to give.”

  “Are ye talking about…rape?” Aislinn whispered the last word.

  “Aye.” There was no use in hedging around the topic, and perhaps a dose of something scary might help her cousin see the seriousness of it.

  “Och, Blair, not every man is out to pillage a woman’s virtue.” She laughed, and Blair felt bad for her cousin.

  “Ye’re right. Not every man is. But without a dose of caution, how is a woman to know?”

  Aislinn grunted and then pointed toward the bottle in Blair’s hand. “Toss your message into the water. Wish it a good journey. And pray the man who answers doesna have the same notions of a simple kiss as ye do.”

  “I told ye I wasna tossing it in.”

  “Scaredy cat,” Aislinn scoffed.

  “I am not.”

  “Then toss it in. I dare ye to live beyond the extreme tightness of your plait. And the fortifications of your virtue.”