Highland Storm (21 page)

David mac Maíl Chaluim was on the verge of uniting all the clans, but in the process, their legacies would all be lost. Rather than be bolstered by the sight of them, the king’s army felt more like an infestation upon the land—a plague of Scots, with drunken, overloud voices that disrespected the dún Scoti dead. And in the midst of them all stood the king’s tent, an elaborate silken edifice striped in gold and red. For all that Lianae felt like an outsider, she knew instinctively that whatever it was that these people were holding close to their vests, it was not something they cared to share with the
King of Scotia.

But for so long, she had considered David to be her enemy. It was by his command her father was butchered. And yet… if the king had sensed she’d been lying about Keane, he had nevertheless shown her a kindness by not returning her to the Earl—a judgment he might have found justified, for William fitz Duncan was not a man anyone wished to cross. Instead he’d given her to a man who, Lianae had since learned, was not entirely David’s ally. According to Keane’s sister Cailin, who claimed to know Keane best, her husband had donned the king’s livery as a matter of circumstance. Cailin was equally as certain he would never have accepted a gift of land and title—unless he believed there to be a greater cause.

It was that greater cause that had Lianae thinking now, although she didn’t fool herself to believe it could be love. She was so deep in thought, considering what it might be that might motivate Keane to wed her, that she didn’t hear anyone approach.

She started at the sound of a female voice. “There are so many,” Aidan’s wife said and Lianae had no need to ask what she meant… it was the king’s men she referred to—the endless campfires winking amidst the dark night.

Lianae turned to smile at the woman who’d wed Keane’s elder brother. She was childless at the instant, though it was the first time since their arrival at Dubhtolargg that Lianae had seen her without her newborn babe in her arms.

“The babe is sleeping?”

She was lovely, with dark chestnut hair and stark violet eyes that seemed to peer straight into Lianae’s soul. “Aye, at last. The hour has grown late.”

Lianae turned to look over the hillside. “I was… waiting,” she confessed, but she didn’t wish to say for what.

For her husband to forgive her, in truth.

“Of course,” the woman said. “You are newly wed.”

Lianae blushed hotly. “Oh, nay,” she protested. “It isna like that.”

But it was. Whether her husband would bed her or nay, she had no desire to spend the night alone in the little cottage they had been assigned. She was driven to seek him, even if she didn’t know why. He was her touchstone now—her center.

Keane was all that remained to make sense of her world. She had no one but him, and as angry as he was with her, she still trusted him to keep her safe.

The woman’s eyes twinkled as she studied Lianae, as though she knew something Lianae did not. But then she couldn’t know that Keane wanted naught to do with her, and rightly so, for Lianae had bungled everything so very thoroughly.

But what would she have done differently if she could?

Certainly not return to the Earl.

Never that.

Naught, Lianae realized sadly. She would do naught differently, for if she had played her hand any differently at all, the king may have well returned her to the Earl. She swallowed her grief over the truth and stood, hugging herself against the chill of the night, staring out into the hills.

“He is quite pleased with your marriage,” the laird’s wife remarked.

Lianae’s gaze snapped to the woman’s face. At first, she thought it must be a question, because it certainly couldn’t be true. “Keane?” she asked, thinking she must be mistaken.

She nodded, and long moments passed where Lianae simply didn’t know how or what to respond. She opened her mouth to speak and closed it again.

“I ken what ’tis like to be torn between worlds,” the woman said, surprising Lianae with the insight.

There was an air of familiarity between them already, though it wasn’t an affiliation Lianae could readily explain. She’d felt the same kinship with Kenna, and a little bit from Lael. But not a one of them must realize what Lianae had done… or they, too, would despise her as surely as Keane did.

“When I first came to Dubhtolargg,” she confessed. “I wondered how the fates would allow that I should wed the man whose people cursed my very existence.”

“Aidan?” Lianae asked with surprise.

She smiled. “Aye, ’tis true. My husband’s people loathed me once upon a time. In fact, it was Una herself who cast me the evil eye. Perhaps you’ve heard of the Caimbeul’s curse?”

Lianae’s eyes widened. Even in the north, they’d heard the stories of how the mountain folk cursed the Caimbeul’s daughter for his sins. This, then, was Lìleas MacLaren.

Lianae’s gaze slid to the bier. “Una was the one?”

Lìleas’s throat constricted visibly. “The very one.”

“And still you mourn her loss?”

Lìleas’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “More than words can say. You are a daughter of Óengus, so they say?”

Lianae nodded. “Aye, but he is now gone… along with my mother and my sister… I am alone.”

“Nay,” Lìleas contended. “Not so long as you have us. We are your family now, Lianae. The dún Scoti men are loyal to a fault and I tell you now that if Keane loves you truly, you will want for naught as long as he remains at your side.”

Lianae said naught to that, unable to reveal the things she’d already done to put their marriage asunder. Feeling glum, she turned to stare out over the hillside, at the dozens and dozens of twinkling fires… like stars that fell to earth.

Both women stood in perfect silence. After a time, Lìleas spoke again. “I will share with you what Una once told me when I needed to hear it most. She said, ‘Trust your instincts, and whatever ye do, do it with all your soul.’ I sense you will need this advice in the days to come, Lianae.”

Willing away tears, Lianae turned to blink at her.

“Be true to your heart, not so much your head,” Lìleas offered with a smile, and there was something about her violet eyes that made Lianae want to believe.

And then she turned to find Keane standing behind her, and her heart ceased to beat…

F
aced
with his brother’s challenge, Keane spoke the words as a matter of consequence, though now he feared they must be true.

For all that he’d pined for it, he didn’t give a damn about Lilidbrugh anymore, or Dunràth for that matter. Lilidbrugh was but a broken link to their past, a long forgotten symbol of the history of his clan. Lianae was his future… wherever it should lead.

But could it be love if there be no trust?

Nevertheless… it was past time to put their trials behind them. For better or worse, Lianae was his wife now and he must find a way to learn to trust the woman he intended to love.

Lìleas spoke first. “We were marveling over the sight of so many…”

“Outliers?” Keane said, finishing for his brother’s wife.

They both shared a private look that conveyed so much—things that Lianae would never know, things he could not trust her enough to reveal.

Lìli crossed her arms against the chill. “Would ye e’er have imagined Aidan would allow it?”

“Not in a thousand years.”

But of course, they no longer had the Stone of Destiny to defend. What did it matter who came to the vale now that the Stone was out of their hands?

Lìli eyed them both, and sensing Keane had not come for idle chatter, she excused herself at once. “By your leave,” she said. “I am certain you two have much to discuss.” And without awaiting Keane’s reply, she made her way back toward the crannóg, where Aidan and her children awaited her. For a long uncomfortable moment, Keane watched his brother’s wife walk away, feeling the weight of the world descend upon him.

Not only was the Stone of Destiny gone—the entire purpose of their clan’s existence for more than two centuries—he had come to bury the woman who’d raised him from birth. And if that were not enough, his wife was a liar—and she had nearly cost him his life. After all that had been said and done, it wasn’t easy to overlook his wounded pride. Still, he held out a hand, inviting Lianae to take it. “Come,” he demanded.

For a moment, she merely stared at him, and then she reached out, and her touch was like a bolt of lightning to Keane’s heart.

I
t was an arrogantly worded command
, but Lianae recognized his vulnerability in that moment and swallowed her complaint, giving him her hand. Without a word, he pulled her gently along, away from the beach and the bonfire. Along the way, they passed his sister Cailin speaking low with Cameron in the shadows.

The night air held an unmistakable chill, but the heat emanating from Keane’s hand made her palm sweat. Doves flew amuck inside her breast. “I suppose ’tis good to see your people, even if the circumstances aren’t supreme?”

Keane nodded, though he didn’t elaborate and Lianae found herself craving knowledge about the man she had wed. Marveling at the great size of his hand, she imagined him as a child. “You and your brother Aidan are close?”

“Aye,” he said, and fell to silence once more. The overwhelming sound of it squeezed Lianae’s heart. Was this how it was to be between them now? She missed his easy banter—and even the haughty curve of his beautiful smile.

They neared the cottage they’d been assigned and Lianae struggled to keep up. “Una was much loved?” she asked, scrambling more for words than she did to keep the pace.

He squeezed her hand almost imperceptibly, as though he meant for her to hush. “She was.”

Ach! Lianae would do anything to change what she had done—anything save give herself to William fitz Duncan. Forsooth, but she could not find any regret for that—not when her lies had garnered her this… But what was
this
? she berated herself.

And where was he taking her now?

There was something different in Keane’s demeanor tonight, and it gave her a terrible flutter of anticipation as they neared the cottage they’d been assigned.

Struggling to keep up with his long, hurried strides, Lianae scrambled for something more to say that would help mend their wounds. “Well, I am sorry for your loss, Keane.”

“As am I. She was like a mother to me,” he said, and he changed the topic almost at once. “You are still favoring your left foot, Lianae.”

Without warning, Keane swept her up into his arms, hushing her so easily. She could scarce breathe much less talk as he bore her into the cottage, across the threshold, and then another few short steps to the bed.

Inside, the cottage was warm and cozy. Lianae had left the fire burning in anticipation of their return. They had ridden long hours and she had arrived weary and ready to repose.

A small table sat in one corner, flanked by two simple chairs. A cot sat in the other corner, along with a small table. Atop that table was an empty ewer and a bowl.

Without a word, Keane set her down upon the cot—a much smaller bed than the one they’d shared at Keppenach—and set about inspecting Lianae’s feet once again, removing first one shoe, then the other. They were still sore, but not nearly as much as before, and Lael had given her a sturdy pair of boots to wear.

As he knelt to inspect the soles of her feet, Lianae wondered how they would sleep. He could not possibly slumber in those chairs, and the bed was so small in comparison to the one they’d left that they wouldst need sleep on top of one another in order to fit.

The thought tripped the beat of her heart, even despite of the fact that they’d slept far closer than this upon his pallet. “I am fine,” she reassured him.

In truth, she was. Compared to but a few days ago, she was quite well in fact. Aside from the grueling pace of the day, the husband who would have little to do with her, a dead sister and long lost brothers, Lianae was perfectly fine.

But as she watched Keane tend her feet, his actions were not those of a man who would loathe his wife, and the realization made her heart beat a little faster…

“’Tis healing,” he said gently. “Ye must keep them clean. Tomorrow, I will ask Lìli to prepare you a balm.”

“She needn’t trouble herself for me,” Lianae said breathlessly. Truly, her feet were her very last concern. “I ken there is much to be done.”

To that, her husband peered up, brows askew. “Ye dinna behave much like a princess,” he said.

Lianae arched her own brow, unable to hold her tongue. “Aye, well, aside from your officiousness, neither do ye.”

“Ach, lass, that would be because, in case ye ha’nae noticed, I am
not
a princess.”

Realizing only belatedly what she had said, Lianae choked on a well of laughter.

“Ye’re a pawky wench,” her husband accused her, but if the fact displeased him, it didn’t appear to be so—not judging by the laugh lines that formed around his sensuous lips.

Lianae’s heart squeezed a little at the return of his good humor.

She was desperately alone and wished not to be anymore. She had ruined everything with her lies… and still he’d managed to show her kindness and affection.

“I would be a wife to you in truth,” she blurted, surprising herself with the request—for that’s what it was.

She was a virgin still, but that didn’t mean Lianae didn’t know how a proper bedding was supposed to be done. She would see their vows consummated rightly, despite that he still believed she carried another man’s child. She wanted so much to say it wasn’t true. But she didn’t know how—not with her mouth. Fire burned in her cheeks at the thought of speaking the words aloud. But she no longer wanted him to look at her the way he did on their wedding night—as though she were unclean. Nay… she wanted him to look at her the way he did when they’d first met… the way he was looking at her now…

But the warmth in his gaze vanished the instant she spied it.

Keane released her foot, and made to rise.

Lianae seized him by the arm, silently begging him not to go.

K
eane wanted more
than anything to stay… he wanted to kiss her again… but there was a deeper longing that couldn’t be appeased—not now.

Not yet.

Not whilst she carried another man’s bairn.

There must be no question in his mind whose child she would bear. He would raise a son of fitz Duncan, but he would not confuse the truth in his head. If he bedded Lianae now, he would make himself believe the child could be his, and this, he could not do.

“Please,” she begged, and he could see the desire writ upon her face. The unabashed plea tugged at his heart. She was his wife, he reasoned, and after all, if she had wanted to be with the Earl, she would never have lied to the king.

Instead, she had made Keane complicit in her stories, accusing him of things he had only coveted—and aye, he was guilty of it all inside his head. He
wanted
to bed her that morning in Lilidbrugh.

Who was he fooling?

He wanted to bed her now. And that look upon her face… it made him want to believe she had done everything for the very same reason he longed to kiss her right now…

Because she wanted him.

He could see the truth in her eyes. And suddenly Keane couldn’t hold back—not when she gazed at him with those liquid amber eyes. Surrendering to his desire, he lifted a hand to her cheek, willing Lianae to push him away. But she did not. Instead, she slid her arms about his neck and Keane bent to claim her lips. She kissed him back… ever so sweetly… and he could no longer think of any reason to stop…

But nay… nay…

Desire warred with his pride. If he loved her now, he would always wonder if the babe could be his…

“Lianae,” he begged, and yet, he needn’t please himself in order to please his wife, he realized. He could give her what she longed for. And later, much later, once he was alone by the loch, he would please himself, and remember the taste of her lips, the silky feel of her hair…