“He had two blades,” Keenan said (9 page)

“And what exactly is so blathering funny that ye smile when I rage?” Lachlan accused. “Do ye mock me, brother? Have ye forgotten yer place in this family?”

“Nay, Lachlan.” Keenan forced down the rise of temper, held in check through the years. “I was but contemplating how surprised the clans supporting King George will be when he gifts their lands to English barons,” Keenan said smoothly and took a drink of mead while his eyes moved to rest on Serena’s back where she stood near the fire.

“Aye,” Lachlan said with a grimaced smile. “If they doona join us, we are all doomed to find English dandies stamping before our gates,” Lachlan said. “But they’d have a bloody battle to actually broach my walls, eh? What with ye, and yer warriors behind them.”

Keenan looked at his brother. Lachlan had just complimented him.

Keenan grinned. “Aye brother, they would indeed,” he said and raised his mead in mock cheer. He took a drink and turned back to the room.

Serena’s hair fell to her waist. Although dirt still clung to her from their trip north, she was beautiful. Her dancer’s grace made every movement fluid. Her gloved hands accentuated words as she spoke. The two women began to laugh. Serena turned and Keenan’s breath caught mid inhalation at the magical transformation her jubilant smile created.

In repose the lass was delicately lovely, like a statue, but in laughter, spirit jumped into her features bringing them to life. He took a slow breath and tried to eat more of the venison placed before him, but the food, though of its usual aromatic quality, held little interest to him. The bread stuck to the roof of his mouth so that he had to scrape it off with his tongue. He took a drink, and his eyes studied the gentle sway of Serena’s hips as the two ladies walked along the wall. He took another bite of venison and chewed hard.

But if she was truly the witch of the prophecy, she was to be his brother’s. Keenan’s chest tightened. “Whisky!” he called back over his shoulder.

Lachlan laughed. “Spirits for ye, Keenan? Not yer usual drink. Might open up a crack in that blasted control ye always keep on yerself.”

It was true. Keenan always stayed in control. Whisky just reduced reaction time. Bloody hell, the lass was driving him to drink, to lose control.

Keenan grunted and took a swallow of the offered drink. The hot trail of liquor snaked down along his throat and into the hollow of his stomach. Perhaps numbness would help.

“This lass ye brought, Serena Faw,” Lachlan said, his mouth seeming to taste her name. Keenan doused the image with another drink of the liquid fire while his brother continued. “She is a luscious looking thing, nothing like the Rom I’ve seen.”

Keenan grunted again and watched his brother’s eyes flow over Serena, assessing her, his gaze following the length of hair down her back, the swell of breasts when she turned.

“Aye, very lovely,” Lachlan said and wiped the back of his hand across his lip.

Keenan finished his drink in one more gulp. He needed more if he wanted to be numb to his brother’s lecherous perusal of Serena.

“Perhaps,” Keenan ground out, “ye should go over and acquaint yerself with her, Lachlan.”

Lachlan didn’t even look at his brother as he rose. “Quite a good idea, Keenan. Always looking out for me,” he said and walked over to the two ladies.

Keenan stood, his body humming for battle. He passed two serving lasses who smiled at him, the twin mountains of their breasts nearly spilling from their bodices. Open invitation danced in their eyes.

“I am weary,” he lied as he passed them, for every nerve in his taut body buzzed with restless energy. He strode out into the cool Highland night. Within moments he climbed upon his chestnut war horse and rode through the gates past the sleepy village and out onto the dark moor.

Keenan’s fierce roars filled the quiet spring night as he flew across the darkness, his sword slicing the air. His foe was not one he could chop and fell. His foe was a dark legend that gave the lovely red headed witch who laughed joyously inside his home, to the leader of his clan.

He spit out a curse born of Scots whisky, regret, and resolve to duty, and loosed his horse to ride at will, wild across the heath. Here alone, just man and beast, he could loosen his control. Here under the cover of darkness, Keenan could rage against his destiny.

Chapter 6

The indoor, hot bath was pure bliss the night before, and now Serena stretched contentedly under the heavy throws on her bed. She thrust hands overhead and cracked her eyes open to see sun shining in past shuttered windowpanes set into the gray walls. It must be late.

Serena sat up and peered at the ivory nightdress that Elenor gave her last night. She noticed a gown draped at the end of the bed. Serena shoved the blankets aside and tugged the soft wool towards her. The shade was of medium blue, bright, a happy color. “Must be one of Elenor’s.”

Serena washed in the basin on the heavy, carved oak table near the window. She pulled the heavy drapes aside letting the light fall in and looked through the warped glass down the side of the castle tower. She could make out the thatched roofs of the village spreading out beyond the castle walls. People moved about their work.

“It’s late,” she said. She took off the nightdress and put on a clean shift. She tied her stockings with garters and tied the one pocket around her waist. She draped the blue wool stays over a short white under petticoat.

“Arrgg, how can a girl possibly dress alone,” she grumbled and tried the door connecting her room to William’s. At first he looked asleep, but when she pushed his door in further, he moved his eyes.

“William, can you help me?” she asked and sat on the edge of his bed.

He smiled when she kissed his forehead. “No fever,” she said. “And your shoulder?”

He moved it slightly. “A bit stiff, but it will heal no doubt to your fine talents.”

Should she tell him about the old woman and Merewin? It still felt like a dream. But the burdock and feverfew had been real, as well as the healing stone.

“I didn’t know you knew the healing arts,” William said as she turned her back to him. Serena heard him press up against the back of the bed.

“Desperation brings out unknown skills,” she said and felt him tug on the stay lines. He grunted softly and she turned around. “I’m sorry, William, I’ll have someone else do up the stays if it pains you.”

Just then a knock came to the door and Serena stood as Elenor stepped inside carrying a tray. Elenor gasped, and the tray teetered.

“Oh my, excuse me. I meant to bring William some broth.”

“I hope there’s more than just broth in the kitchens,” William called from his position on the bed. “A man needs some meat and bread too,” he said smiling at his sister’s discomfort.

“Elenor,” Serena said as she fought the blush.

“Good waking, William,” Robert Mackay called as he walked in behind Elenor. Serena’s fingers began to turn white as she clutched the undone stays in her fingers. “Excuse me, Serena. I didn’t realize ye were unclothed, lass.”

“Unclothed?” Where she felt the others’ surprise and awkwardness at finding her undone in William’s room, Serena heard a hint of anger in the rough burr of Keenan’s voice. He pushed in past Robert and Elenor to stand before her.

“I, I,” she began.

“Yer undressed,” Keenan said looking her over from head to toe.

“Not completely,” she said and mustered a bit of anger. “Have you ever tried to tie stays behind your back?” When he didn’t answer she continued, “by yourself.”

He stared at her unblinking and then turned to William. Serena heard Elenor’s muffled chuckle somewhere near the door.

“Well
¢
tis near impossible,” Serena said defensively and threw out her hand toward William. “He’s always been the one to lace them for me at home if Duy was not about.”

“See now, Àngelas,” William said laughing. “I told you we were too old now for me to be dressing you. Making me act your maid,” he shook his head, “it’s gotten you into trouble.”

“Elenor,” Keenan said firmly, “send up a lady’s maid for Miss Faw.”

“Aye, Keenan,” Elenor said, set the tray down near William, and headed back out the door. “And I’ll rummage up some meat and bread for our invalid there.”

“Invalid?” William grumbled but then called after Elenor, “my thanks, Lady Elenor.”

Robert cleared his throat. “Good to see ye feeling better, lad. I best check back later,” Robert winked toward Keenan and Serena who still frowned at one another.

“I have many thanks to give to you, sir,” William called out to Robert. “You and your sister saved me.”

“Nay more than what yer sister did for me, lad. And call me Robert,” he said as he waved and walked from the room.

Serena would have replied but she was too busy glaring back at the mountain before her.

Keenan couldn’t pull his eyes from her. Her skin, now clean, glowed rosy with embarrassment.

Serena’s eyes flashed indignation, while her hair fell in shining waves. He thought the flames incredible during their journey, but now with the road dust stripped away, her mane blazed red with gold highlights shooting through it.

He clenched his fingers so as not to reach for it. Her lips were parted as if waiting to hurl another quip his way, but none came. In her half dressed state, she looked like a woman who had just been tousled. Serena thought of William as a brother, but what did William feel for Serena?

“I would have a word alone with yer brother.”

A girl peeked around the corner of the door that led to Serena’s room.

“Don’t you say anything to upset him,” Serena said and looked at William.

“I’m not too frail to talk, Serena,” William said with his deep, I’m-a-man-now voice.

“Very well,” Serena said and turned to leave. She pulled her hair to one side, and Keenan caught a glimpse of the silky nape of her neck above her shift. It was pale and perfect. What would that spot taste like? He shook himself mentally and turned his attention to the young Rom man. The door clicked shut.

“Are ye in love with her?” Keenan blatantly asked. Full frontal assault was how he usually liked to attack.

“Yes,” William said seriously.

Not what Keenan was expecting.

“Ye doona try to hide the fact ye love her?”

“Of course not, she’s my phen, my sister. I love her as such.” William frowned.

Keenan stared at the proud man, weighing his words. There was truth in them. Keenan dropped into a chair near the bed.

“She was found by yer people?”

“She was found by me,” William said. He still looked guarded.

Keenan raised an eyebrow. “By ye?”

“She was little, then,” William said, his white teeth showing in a broad smile. “But she sure made a large splash when she dropped into the middle of the pond.”

“Middle?”

William nodded, but didn’t say more.

“Where was she before dropping into the pond?”

William frowned. “Why do you want to know so much about my sister?”

Why indeed? Keenan ignored the first answer that popped into his head, the one that he thought he had chased away with whisky and war cries on the moors last night. He needed to discover whether or not Serena was special, special enough to be magic.

Keenan leaned back casually. “It just seems that ye were a little young perhaps and dinna see where she jumped from. Unless she fell from a tree she couldn’t drop into the middle of a pond.” He shrugged and looked away. “Yer still quite young lad and probably haven’t’ thought it through.”

“Nay, I saw her fall in the middle, right from out of nowhere. I know what I saw,” William said defensively. “She fell from the sky into the pond. Like a fallen àngelas, an angel.”

Keenan studied William. “She is special, yer sister.”

William just stared back.

“She kens the use of magic, William?”

They stared for a long moment.

“What do you think, Highlander?”

Elenor opened the door tentatively. “Meat and bread have come,” she said cheerfully at William. “Maddie Grant is with Serena, Keenan.” She set the tray near the bed and began to fluff and prop up William to eat.

Keenan stood, noticing the faint flush to his sister’s cheeks.

William’s eyes caught hers for a moment. What did that mean? The man couldn’t even be a score and ten, and his sister was a year older than he. Keenan frowned. She had never married. Even with her beauty and joyous demeanor, no suitor was confident that the prophecy only applied to sons by blood and not sons in marriage. No one wanted to be the second son. And so his sweet Elenor would also suffer loneliness. If she wanted to blush over the Rom lad, let her.

Keenan mumbled a farewell and left the room, with William’s words pounding in his head. “What do you think, Highlander?” Keenan knew. Serena, the angel fallen from the sky. Serena was special. She was the witch.

“Keenan,” his sister’s whisper followed him, and he turned to see her shutting William’s door.

Elenor glanced at Serena’s door, and then motioned him to follow her downstairs.

He watched Elenor’s delicate hand follow the stones of the wall as they descended. She really was bonny, his sister. She should have been married with three bairns holding to her skirts.

When they reached the bottom, Elenor took his hand and led him to the side behind the stairwell. It was dimmer there but he saw emotions cross her face. Hope warred with worry, questions with the firmness of certainty.

“I saw her eyes this morning, in the light of day,” she said. “I nearly dropped William’s tray.”

Keenan just stared.

“Her eyes are violet, Keenan, and her hair blazes like fire.”

“I had noticed.”

“Ye had noticed?” Elenor said, her voice going up in pitch at the end.

Keenan waited.

“And I’ve heard stories of this sparrow that follows her? It sat on her shoulder as she rode through our gates.”

“Aye, I’ve seen the bird. She calls it Chiriklò.”

“Chiriklò?”

“Aye, Chiriklò. It means sparrow in Romany”

Elenor stared at him and then whirled around, took two quick paces and pivoted back around and paced back. Her hands fluttered.

“And ye aren’t affected by this? Haven’t said anything about it, about these, these…”

“Oddities?” Keenan supplied.

“Aye, oddities,” Elenor said with a frustrated huff and then raised her small hand to rest on his shoulder. “Keenan, she could be the one, the witch,” she whispered the last word.

“At this point, I have little doubt that she is indeed the one,” he said matter-of-factly.

Elenor pulled her hand from his shoulder. She tapped her finger against her lips. Keenan liked to watch her think. She wasn’t only bonny, but clever as well. And sadly, full of hope for him. Hope when there was no hope.

Elenor lowered her hand. Her small smile worried him. “She dinna seem too taken with our brother last eve,” she said.

“Give them a chance,” he said gruffly.

“Why?”

Keenan stared at Elenor. He had always known that she loved him fiercely and above Lachlan. She had been trying to discover a way around the prophecy for as long as he could remember. But she had never actually said anything to make him think that he should or could manipulate the prophecy to his favor.

“Why give them a chance,” she repeated.

“Why?” he asked back incredulously.

She looked down and began to pace within the small alcove.

“Aye, Keenan. Why?”

“Because that is how the prophecy goes, Elenor. I willna steal my brother’s wife to save my life.”

“But she loves ye,” Elenor said. “It is plain to see if ye look.”

“What are ye speaking of, Elenor?” he said. Anger bit into his chest. The hope that Elenor gave him with false words would only slice through him later with more pain. He shook his head. “There is naught between us.”

“Well there’s certainly more between the two of ye than between she and Lachlan,” Elenor said. Frantic hope clung to each word.

“That is because we journeyed together, because I helped her and her brother, Elenor. If Lachlan had done the same, she would be closer to him.”

Elenor scoffed. “Lachlan help someone other than himself, not likely.”

“Elenor.”

“No Keenan, ye ken I speak the truth. I love Lachlan as I must for he is my brother. But he hides himself away, afraid of death. What kind of chief hides away behind his walls, behind his little brother?”

“Enough,” Keenan said.

She looked steadily up at him. “I am not the only one who questions his right to be chief when he hides here behind ye and the walls of Kylkern.” Challenge laced her words.

Keenan’s hands tensed on her upper arms, but then relaxed in resignation. Bullying his sister would not make her stop. “I have always accepted my lot. Ye need to also.”

She shook her head slowly, firmly. “No, Keenan I doona have to accept anything. Ye are the courageous chief of this clan. Ye saved the witch and brought her here. Ye protect our people with yer sword and cleverness. We need ye to bring us to peace. Doona abandon us to Lachlan just because our sire named ye the sacrificial lamb.”