Highland Dragon (30 page)

“If their great King James is pleased, then they will think naught of your lineage at all.”

While she experienced yet another devastating moment, all her husband could do was gloat. He thought the discovery of her lineage a reason to be happy, did he? Did he expect the kin of his clan to serve the very blood they had fought so hard to prevent from taking their lands?

She hated the English. As did every Kinnon, MacLeod…hell, all o’ Scotland hated the English. They were bloodsucking savages.
She
was a bloodsucking savage.

She growled through clenched teeth while her hands curled into tight fists at her sides. She wanted to knock some sense into her husband. How in all o’ Scots would the kinfolk of Clan MacLeod treat her with any reverence? They had accepted her as a peasant, but no red-blooded Scot would pay homage to an Englishwoman.

Calin’s smile broadened, making her even angrier.

“Ye keep smiling, husband. Mayhap I will travel to England and pay a visit to this aunt of mine. Mayhap I have a tocher. A castle? What say ye, Robert? Have I land on English soil I might be tempted to retreat to?”

“As a matter of fact, m’lady, you—”

“Sir Robert,” Calin bit off his words. “Ye have provided enough information for the nonce. Gordon, see him out.”

“Nay. I want him to stay. I’ve much to learn.”

“Cool your tongue, wife.”

Akira was about to throw another barb when Gordon interrupted the squabble. “M’laird, there is the matter with Catriona still to settle.”

The statement caught Akira by surprise and she felt a surge of guilt knowing a fearful Catriona probably stood in the corridor awaiting her sentence.

“Bring her in,” Calin ordered.

Akira’s already piqued temper exploded when Catriona was escorted into the chamber wearing iron cuffs chained between her wrists. The clanking sound reminded her of the time they’d spent together in the dungeon of Brycen Castle.

Rushing to Catriona’s side, Akira glared at Gordon and demanded. “Unchain her.”

When Gordon sought his laird’s permission, Akira nearly lost control. “Dinnae look at him. I said unchain her. Ye will do as I say or be punished for defiance.”

Gordon lowered his gaze and freed Catriona of her confinement.

“Catriona is of noble English blood,” Akira said to the MacLeod elders in a defensive tone. “She has been charged with crimes against Scotland. I believe she has already paid for her crimes and would request she be placed in my command until I am able to find her a husband worthy enough to appease both King James and King Henry. Furthermore, I—”

“I’ll have her.” Laird Donald spoke up before Akira could finish her sentence.

“Laird Donald, your offer is most gracious, but I must inform ye Catriona is barren and wouldnae be able to provide ye with an heir.”

“I have all the heirs I need and then some. My lady wife died last spring, leaving me with three sons already married and four daughters who lack the attentions of a lady. My eldest son recently lost his wife in childbearing. My granddaughter is being fostered in my castle and I’d be most willing to have a lady tend to her rearing until my son finds another wife.”

Akira glanced at Catriona to gauge her response to this unexpected proposal. Her gray eyes were sheepish, but the upward tilt of her lips told Akira she might be taking to the offer. Still, Akira questioned, “Ye vow not to share her with another?”

Laird Donald’s head cocked back like a rooster. “I wouldnae share my wife. Are ye wowf, woman? I’d sooner cut a mon’s hand off for touching her than give her to another.”

Akira saw the sparkle in Catriona’s eyes and agreed. “’Tis done. Ye will wed before ye take your leave.”

Calin closed the meeting, after which the horde of clansmen surged to the high table to celebrate the alliance. Akira took advantage of her husband’s entrapment and fled the chamber seeking solitude.

She spent the remainder of the morning in the chapel praying for acceptance, after which she walked the distance to the great oak where she’d spent so many days schooling the children of Clan MacLeod. The sodden ground squashed beneath her brogues as the sun melted all traces of the first snow. The air was damp on her face as she looked out over the loch behind Cànwyck Castle. She’d always loved the beauty that was Scotland. Unfortunately, her love for her country didn’t make her any less English.

She had lived the majority of her life being shunned by her kin and wasn’t certain if she could continue to live a similar life. Would she start to question every whisper, every glance?

Her worries clung to her like Highland mist. The fact that English blood flowed through her veins would change the way the MacLeod kinfolk treated her. Would they whisper about her in secrecy? Would the womenfolk trust her to continue schooling their children? Could she live the remainder of her days questioning their loyalty?

Drawing a deep breath, she nodded her head, answering her own question. Calin loved her. That was all that truly mattered. His love would make her strong enough to cope with any taunts thrown her way.

The tiny hand tugging at her kirtle startled her out of her musing. When she turned to look behind her, she nearly choked on the lump in her throat. She’d been so enveloped in her thoughts she hadn’t heard the children walk up behind her. Five young girls dipped a perfect curtsy in unison, their eyes shining with hope.

“’Tis time for lessons, m’lady?” one of the girls posed the question with her hands piously clasped in front of her.

Before Akira could answer, droves of children rushed, skipped, bobbed their way to her side, bringing the knoll to life. A tiny army of warriors ready to fight in her honor. Her lineage wouldn’t matter to the children. They were innocent of political strife.

Only moments later, the MacLeod kinswomen emerged over the knoll accompanied by the MacLeod warriors—warriors with clean-shaven jaws. Akira’s eyes widened. Her heart slammed against her chest as each man pressed closer into the assembly surrounding her. They had undoubtedly lost their wits. She could do little more than watch them rub their cheeks and make a show of their smooth skin. She hardly recognized some of the kinsmen. The pale color of their skin contrasted with the bronze and red coloring of their upper faces. What had they been thinking?

Shaking her muddled head, she opened her mouth to ask their intent when the crowd parted down the middle. Andrew walked proud and regal through the isle, wooden sword at his hip and a circlet of yellow flowers held out reverently in front of him. Calin towered behind him.

Unable to ignore Andrew’s presence, she bent down and allowed him to crown her with the sweet-smelling flowers. Tears pooled in her eyes while the desire to gain their acceptance caused a painful pressure in her chest.

“M’lady, ’tis of nay import if ye are bluidy English. We love ye.” Andrew bent to one knee and bowed his head—a sign of his undying loyalty.

Calin stepped to her side, kissed her forehead, and folded her fingers over his own. He spoke no words. A broad toothy smile lifted his lips and pride radiated from his amber eyes as he studied his kin. If Akira’s suspicions were correct, she would say he was as stunned as she, but she wasn’t yet prepared to find him innocent of their actions. “Did ye organize this?”

“Nay. I just followed them here. I suspect they fear ye may leave them again.”

“Would ye have us deface ourselves, then leave us void of your presence?”

Akira sought out the man who spoke, recognizing Gordon’s baritone voice. She had never seen him smile and could do little more than laugh at the sight before her. They cared not a wit if she were English or Irish or the blood of The Beast. “How could I leave such foolish people? Have ye nay sense? To remove the warmth from your face with the winter months ahead of ye.”

Calin brushed her cheek with the ridge of his knuckles. “This is your home, m’lady, and these are your loyal kinfolk. Ye must never leave us again.”

She returned his smile. “All o’ Scotland couldnae keep me from ye.”

Life couldn’t be more perfect, Akira mused.

Settled against the sturdy oak, Calin encircled his arms around her swollen abdomen. Her back rested against his chest, and a breeze whistled through the leaves above them. Their youngest daughter, Coira, slept peacefully on her belly atop a patchwork quilt close enough for Akira to stroke her short black curls. Two kittens napped at Coira’s feet, purring a tune that had lulled her to sleep.

“Have I told ye how happy ye make me?” Calin whispered, his warm breath dusting her cheek.

“Not since this morning when ye loved me into a near swoon,” Akira teased and held his hand over her belly where a tiny foot was kicking her rib.

Calin turned her in his arms and raised his one wicked brow. “Mayhap tonight I will be successful.” He brushed her lips, not once, but twice with a gentle kiss, and her heart fluttered from the simplicity of his touch. Not a day passed that he didn’t kiss her and tell her he loved her.

“Mammie! Mammie!”

The familiar squeal of her eldest daughter, Makendra, broke the peaceful interlude. Akira tensed and checked Coira for movement, but, as was typical, the child didn’t flinch.

Kendrick sauntered up the grassy hillside with Makendra clinging to his back, a small hand wrapped around his neck, while the other cupped a new kitten as white as a January snow. Akira blew air through her nose in a quick puff and shook her head. This would be the third cat Makendra brought home in the past fortnight.

The oak leaves tangled in her daughter’s auburn hair told Akira that Kendrick probably just retrieved his niece from another tree. Albeit, she felt no pity for Kendrick’s task since he’d been the one to teach Makendra how to climb during his last visit.

Akira fully intended to scold her this time, but the sour pout Makendra wore was sure to get her out of any punishment. Pulling herself into a sitting position, Akira waited for Calin to help her to her feet. As soon as she was grounded, her fists found their perch onto her hips, a natural pose she struck regardless of her mood.

“Ye will not scold her for rescuing that kitten she’s so proudly bearing,” Calin said while he kneaded the small of her back with his fingertips, easing the ache that had become prevalent in her latter months. She didn’t recall the tension being so constant with her first two daughters and hoped the difference meant she might give her husband a son. Mayhap a male bairn would possess Calin’s gentler nature. Their daughters seemed to have only acquired Akira’s rebellion.

“Then Cànwyck Castle will soon be crawling with four-legged creatures if we dinnae put a stop to her heroics,” Akira murmured just as Makendra plopped down from Kendrick’s back.

“Mammie, dinnae be mad at Uncle Kendrick. Ginny was stuck in a tree and I had to save her.” Makendra sidled up to Calin’s leg and presented the kitten. Her blue and green checked kirtle dragged the ground and made Akira worry even more about her daughter’s safety.

Not even defending his actions, Kendrick snuck away from the scene and propped himself up against the tree trunk. He lifted a sleeping Coira against his chest, saving himself from Akira’s tongue-lashing.

Seeing Kendrick with her bairn made Akira’s heart hurt. She wished he would find a wife to bear children of his own. That prayer had not yet been answered.

Calin bent to one knee in front of Makendra and stroked the tiny feline’s fur. “Ginny?”

“I named her Saint Genevieve. They are sisters and should have matching names. Maggie, I named after Saint Margaret, and Bonnie is named after Saint Boniface. All named after your saints, Da.”

“And how do ye know Ginny is sister to the other two ye brought home?” Akira asked, already forgetting to reprimand her daughter for climbing another tree.

“Because she told me so.”

“She? Ye must tell me who
she
is so I can ask her to quit giving ye kittens.”

“But she is gone now, Mammie.” Makendra frowned at Akira as if to suggest she should already know this information. “She had to go away and left with a man that looked just like ye, Da, except he had hair on his chin.”

Akira glanced at Calin who shrugged. Makendra had a vivid imagination and conversed more with her pets than she did the other children.

“What did this woman look like, sweetheart?” Calin asked.

“Just like Mammie.”

An odd tingle curled around Akira’s spine. No one in the clan looked like her. Foolish thoughts exploded in her head. After giving birth to Makendra, Akira had felt her mother’s presence, the same as she had years ago at Brycen Castle. She’d blamed the illness that burdened her after childbearing, but now her heart ached to believe the woman Makendra spoke of was her mother. “Makendra, did this woman tell ye her name?”

Makendra nodded. “Her name was Lena.”

Warm tears fell over Akira’s face and Calin was at her side brushing them away before they fell.

Calin patted Makendra’s bottom. “Stay out of the trees, or I’ll make Andrew follow ye around again. Think ye your cousins would like to meet Ginny?”

Makendra nodded again, her crystal blue eyes sparkling.

“Have Uncle Jaime squeeze her some fresh goat’s milk.”

Makendra skipped off, and Calin’s odd gaze washed over Akira. Before she could resist, he pulled her into the privacy of the herb garden. Finding a secluded tree, he pinned her against its trunk and kissed her thoroughly, a demanding kiss she returned with fervor.

He pulled away too soon and stared down at her. “Do ye believe her?”

“I do.” Akira smiled and rubbed his earlobe. “The same as I believe that ye are my soul mate, and when our time has come to leave this world, we will be together in the afterlife.”

Calin bent his head to suckle the sensitive flesh just below her ear. “And I will love ye for all eternity, my wee fire-breathing dragon.”