Moon Awakening (15 page)

"You've got to believe me." Cait dropped to her knees in front of Emily, that Chrechte pride she'd spoken of earlier humbled and that was as convincing to Emily as anything Cait had said so far. "I'm begging you. You have to keep the Balmoral away from the lake tomorrow."

"I can't," Emily whispered, feeling like the worst friend in the world. "I tried today and he wouldn't take no for an answer. He's incredibly arrogant and very good at getting his own way."

"But you must." Cait pounded the thresh-covered floor with her fist. "I know you can do it, Emily. He wants you. He staked his claim on you. That has to mean something. He'll listen to you. He has to," she said frantically.

"Come, sit back on the bed. This upset cannot be good for the baby," Emily said, tugging Cait off of her knees. "You must regain your composure."

"I know you are right, but I'm so frightened, Emily. I love my brother. I do not want war between my new clan and my birth clan."

"Neither do I." Emily bit her lip, trying to think, but it was hard with so many new ideas vying for attention in her mind. "You said Lachlan staked his claim. What did you mean?"

"He did it at the nooning meal. He growled. You couldn't hear it. The pitch was set for the werewolves of the pack. For Angus because you were touching him. And then Lachlan insisted you sit beside him at the table. You cannot think that is normal for a captive and a laird."

"I thought it was a Highland idiosyncrasy," Emily admitted. She'd dismissed many things as unique to Highlanders when in fact they might well be related to the fantastical tale Cait had told her.

Cait shook her head.

"I don't understand this claiming. He ignored me all the way through the meal."

"I do not think he is happy about wanting you, but he has made it clear no other wolf is to have you."

"Because I'm promised to Talorc?"

"That wouldn't matter if he meant to keep you."

"But he doesn't."

"No. I don't think he does."

Emily knew he didn't. "He promised that no other soldier could keep me. Maybe this growling business was his way of making sure the others knew that."

Cait shook her head. "All he would have to do is to decree it and none of his soldiers would dare defy him. A clan chief stays chief by being stronger than all the other warriors and they know it."

"I don't understand."

"I don't either entirely," Cait said, sounding calm for the first time since they'd seen the wolf across the lake. "The Balmoral pack does things differently than what I am used to. For example, a physical mating does not bring with it a lifetime commitment unless pregnancy results."

"Can I get pregnant by him?"

"If you are true-mated, yes."

"What does that mean?"

"When a shape-changer and a human mate, if they are true or sacred mates, they can sometimes hear each others' voices in their heads and the union will result in children."

They could hear voices in their heads? She had heard of magicians claiming such a thing, but Sybil had always dismissed them as charlatans. Though Emily supposed the ability to hear someone's voice in her head was no more incredible than the idea that humans really could turn into wolves. "What about werewolves?"

"If a werewolf and a femwolf mate when she is in heat, there is almost always a pregnancy. In fact, I've never heard of a time that did not happen. The problem is that femwolves do not go into heat very often and we are independent by nature. Before joining the clans, Chrechte females would sometimes go their whole lives without mating."

That was interesting. No wonder the Chrechte had found it so hard to survive. "But werewolves do not have to be true-mated to make babies?"

"No, but they can be and if they are, they can mind-speak, too. They also suffer the other consequence of a true-mating."

"What is that?"

"When the Chrechte find their true mate, they are incapable of mating with anyone else until the death of that mate."

"Incapable?"

"Yes, you know…" Cait bit her lip and then continued in almost a whisper, "The males cannot achieve erection with anyone but their true mate and a femwolf's body will not accept penetration from anyone else either."

"What about the human in a true-mating?"

"They are human. They can mindspeak, but as for the other, I don't think they are so limited, but I cannot be entirely sure. I never asked my mother when she explained about the bond between true mates."

"I don't believe this." But even as she said the words, she realized they weren't entirely true. Cait's claims were becoming more and more plausible by the minute.

"Mindspeak is strange," Cait said as if that were the only element of this conversation that was even slightly odd. "I've never experienced it myself. My parents were not true-mated either. I have heard of family members that could hear each other, too, but I cannot hear Talorc and he cannot hear me. I couldn't even smell his scent until he unmasked it briefly at the loch. He was giving me a message."

"That he is here to save you?"

"Not me. He respects the laws of mating too much to dismiss Drustan's claim on me, but he could be scouting for war, though his actions do not suggest that at least. I think he wants my bairn. Another Chrechte warrior for his clan."

"But that is barbaric. He cannot take your baby away from you."

"Not until it is born, no."

"Even then."

"I do not know what will happen then. I cannot bear to give up the babe. I love it already, but he may well go to war over the child even if he does not over our kidnapping."

"What if it is a girl, will he be less insistent on her return to the Sinclairs?"

"No, women are prized for their ability to have more Chrechte warriors and men for their ability to fight."

"It's the same with humans." Goodness, was she really ready to accept this fantastic tale?

Cait seemed so serious, so very certain of her facts. If she wasn't telling the truth, she was doing an admirable job of acting sane and honest.

"To an extent, yes," Cait agreed sadly.

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know, but I don't want either laird killed."

"Do you think Talorc was there earlier this morning?" The thought that the Sinclair laird had seen her naked with Lachlan sent waves of revulsion and mortification rolling over Emily.

"He may have been. He would have waited to challenge Lachlan until he knew where I was and what had happened to me."

"Now he knows."

"Yes."

"Are you sure he will come to the lake tomorrow morning?"

"No, but it's highly likely. If he can kill the Balmoral, the clan would think twice about keeping my babe for its own."

"That is brutal."

"It is the way of life here."

Emily shivered. "Why doesn't have to be so hard?"

Cait sighed, but didn't answer.

Emily bit her lip and thought furiously. "Maybe I could keep Lachlan from the water by offering myself to him."

Cait shook her head. "Oh, no. You cannot do that. I know I said to use his desire for you, tut it is not fair to you. It was very wrong of me to suggest it."

"You don't understand. I want his desire. I've spent my whole life living in the shadows of my father's new family. When I'm with Lachlan I feel like I'm in the sun. It won't last. I know it. It can't, for so many reasons, but I want to experience as much of this newfound passion as I can. Do you think I am terrible for feeling that way?"

"No. I think you are brave, but Lachlan could marry you, if he wanted to."

"According to what you said, there would be the risk of my not having children. No man would embrace such a future willingly, but most especially not a laird."

Cait nodded sadly. "I think you are right. Many Chrechte discourage human matings because of that very thing and the possibility of having human offspring instead of shape-changers."

"You mean that can happen?"

"Yes. Lachlan's mother must have been human because Ulf is."

"Ulf isn't Chrechte?"

"He has no wolf. I'm certain of it."

"Oh, but how can you be sure it was their mother that was human?"

"Because their father was laird and he would not have been if he had been human."

"So no clans with Chrechte have human lairds at all?"

"None that I know of. It's possible I suppose, but I cannot imagine it."

Emily didn't know what to think. "Will you go to the lake and try to talk to Talorc tomorrow?"

"No. I can't be sure why he is here. Maybe he's only checking on me, but I'm afraid he would take me back until he receives a formal request for my hand or the babe is born and then the Balmoral would declare war. Maybe Talorc wants to declare war. Maybe he won't respect the mating bond in this instance. I just don't know." Cait sounded increasingly distressed with each possibility she listed off. "I should not withhold news of his presence from Drustan, but I cannot betray my brother—especially when I am not sure of his motives."

Emily understood Cait's dilemma and sympathized. "If I can keep Lachlan from the lake tomorrow then you have nothing to worry about. Your small deception will hurt no one."

"Do you think that is true?"

"Yes."

"Does this mean you believe me now?"

"I'm not sure," Emily admitted honestly, "but it's impossible to dismiss all that you have said and I believe you believe it. Which is halfway to believing it myself, really." She sighed. "I know you are frightened and I want to do whatever I can to hold that fear at bay."

Cait's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you."

"I will do everything I can to keep Lachlan away from the lake tomorrow."

Cait nodded. "There is one thing."

"What is that?"

"Please do not let anyone know you are aware of the Chrechte's true natures."

"Why?"

"Few humans within the clans know and those that do, guard the secret with their lives. If they betray it, the punishment is death."

Emily felt her face leach of color. "I see," she said faintly.

"As your betrothed, Talorc had the right to tell you, but I did not."

"You mean you could be killed for telling me?"

Cait grasped her hand and squeezed it. "I do not think it would come to that since you are betrothed to Talorc."

"But you are not certain. You risked your life to tell me this."

"I did not know what else to do."

"I will not betray you, Cait."

Her friend gave her a tremulous smile. "I know."

Cait left a short time later after a servant had come to tell her that her husband wished her return to their quarters.

Emily's thoughts buzzed inside her head like a hive of bees upset by someone trying to harvest the honey.

There were so many of them that she could not make sense of even one. Images and words tumbled together in an incomprehensible mass more daunting than her first Latin primer. She wished she had the abbess here to help her decipher her current situation as she had helped Emily understand the language of the Church.

The stone walls of her room felt like they were closing in on her and she jumped to her feet. She needed to get out of the keep, to breathe some fresh air. Her thoughts began to settle as she was forced to focus on her step so she did not trip climbing down the circular stairs.

Of all things, the first real image she could hold on to was that of the monster werewolves her father's housekeeper had told her about so many nights beside the kitchen fire. The Scotswoman had used words to draw the monsters in vivid detail for her audience until some nights, Emily had dreamed about them. And when she was small, she could remember wishing she could be as powerful as the fabled creatures so she would not be so afraid anymore.

Not of water. Not of her papa. Not of Sybil's disapproval. Not of the monster Death, which had claimed her beloved mama. Not of anything.

But she had never in her wildest fantasies dreamed she would ever meet someone who claimed to be one. Only Cait claimed to be a
femwolf
. She said that Lachlan was a
werewolf
. The small hairs on the back of Emily's neck rose and goose bumps chased themselves up and down her arms at the thought.

She found exquisite pleasure in his kisses and craved more of his touch, but if Cait's claims were true… Emily wanted the caresses of an animal. Did that make her depraved? But he wasn't an animal… not wholly. He was a man who could take animal form. That was not the same,
was it
? Cait did not act like an animal; she acted like a woman and Emily was sure her friend was not depraved, but she obviously was content in her marriage bed. Of course, she was part animal, too.

On another burst of confusion, Emily reached the bottom of the stairs. She was happy to discover the door leading to the outside was not closed. It was heavy and when she had tried to open it earlier today, Cait had gently pushed her aside to do it herself. Emily had surmised at the time that there was a trick to it that she did not know. Now she had to wonder if the door had been easier for her friend because of Cait's femwolf strength.

With that disturbing thought, Emily nodded at a group of soldiers coming up the steps. She peered intently at them, trying to guess which were werewolves and which were human. She couldn't see any discernible differences. Was there a way to tell? How had Cait determined that Ulf was human? The soldiers gave her some odd looks as they passed and she had to fight a blush as she realized it looked as if she were ogling them.

Sybil would have pitched a fit if Emily had done anything of the sort to her father's soldiers.

She averted her eyes, but was soon studying everyone around her with more than her usual interest again. Cait had said that only a small portion of the clan were shape-changers, but Emily didn't see any way of telling who was and who wasn't. Did that mean they were all human? Even if that was the most logical conclusion, Emily was far from convinced it was the case.

Lachlan had said so many things that implied he saw himself as more than human and if he was a werewolf, that made sense. He was naturally arrogant, but even so… his attitude and actions did seem to imply it was more than the mere conceit of the powerful leader a clan. Hadn't he referred to his beast within more than once? Plus, his sense of hearing was astounding. To say nothing of his sense of smell.

She stopped and chatted with some children playing near the kitchens. Try as she might, she could see no differences between the children. They were all curious about England though, and were delighted she spoke Gaelic.

"So, are there monsters in England who eat bad children?" a tiny girl asked.

Emily laughed. "I believe some parents tell their children this, but I've never seen one."

"Were you bad as a child?" a little boy asked.

"Not usually."

"Then, you wouldn't have seen them, would you?" he asked with, irrefutable child's logic.

"Our cook's son was certainly bad. He liked to jump out of dark corners and scare people, especially children smaller than he was. He never got eaten by a monster."

"Maybe the cook made something else for the monster to eat."

Emily laughed. "Are there monsters here in the Highlands?"

The little girl wrinkled her nose. "I think there are giant serpents in the lochs, but Mum says there aren't. She says I shouldn't be afraid to bathe because I might get eaten."

Emily dropped to her haunches and cupped the wee girl's cheek. "I think your mother is right."

"We've got lots of wild animals and they're scary as monsters," one boy boasted.

"Aye. Our wolves are bigger than any you'll find elsewhere and the wild boars can kill even a warrior with their big tusks."

Emily gave an exaggerated shiver. "I shall avoid them at all possible costs then."

The children laughed and one of the boys said, "You don't need to worry, English lady, our warriors protect the clan and no one can beat a Balmoral warrior."

"You'll be one someday, won't you?" she asked with a smile.

The boy nodded self-importantly. "I won't never let no serpent eat my little sister."

The small girl who had first voiced that fear looked on with awe and adoration and Emily could not hide her own smile in response. "I'm sure you won't."

"I still say there are monsters in England. They don't have any Chrechte to slay them."

"Chrechte?" Emily asked, her breath stilling in her chest.

"Our fiercest warriors."

"My dad's a fine warrior and he's not Chrechte," another boy said.

It looked like a fight would break out and Emily intervened. "I'm sure both your fathers are fierce."

The Chrechte boy nodded, but there was an expression in his eyes that said he knew something the others didn't. Maybe it was all her imagination, but it seemed to Emily that he carried himself with an arrogance a lot like Lachlan's.

Her mind whirled as the children went back to their play. Their certainty that a creature did not have to be seen to exist reminded her that many things in life had to be taken on faith. She'd never seen the king in person, but she knew he was a real man. Because her father and others had seen him and told her. She'd never seen God, but she didn't doubt his existence. She crossed herself quickly.

No, she knew her Maker was real. She knew her king was real and she knew her mother waited in Heaven to be reunited with her one day. Cait had told Emily that werewolves were real and she could accept that on faith, or continue to doubt until she had irrefutable proof. She had some evidence already, if she chose to interpret the odd behavior of the Highlanders in a certain way.

Was her trust in her dear friend enough to convince her of an impossible truth?

Not certain of her answer, she went into the kitchens and asked if she could help with anything, only to be shooed out again, but not until Emily had made the acquaintance of the other women who helped with the cooking. They were not overly friendly, but they were not unkind either and they seemed pleased she'd made the effort to learn their names and compliment them on the nooning meal.

She saw the priest from a distance when she came out, but he did not notice her. She wanted to ask him if there were werewolves in the clan. She was sure he knew, but she could not risk exposing Cait to censure. The possibility that sharing the clan's secrets had put the Scotswoman at risk made Emily's stomach cramp with worry.

She could not stand the prospect of something bad happening to her friend. Which must be how Cait felt about her brother. The truth was that while he was surly, he was probably no more annoyingly arrogant than Lachlan. Only she had not felt the strange erotic feelings toward Talorc that she did with the Balmoral laird. Cait loved Talorc, though, and must be beside herself with worry over his fate.

Whatever her doubts regarding the werewolves of the clan, Emily must keep her promise to do all she could to prevent Lachlan from going to the lake the following day. With that thought firmly in mind, she helped some children get water from the well in the lower bailey before going back to the keep with the intention of tidying herself before the evening meal.

Cait sat on one of the benches, brushing her hair and waiting for Drustan's return to their chambers.

She had thought when he had requested her presence earlier that he might have intended to make love again. Now that she knew Emily was relatively safe and unharmed, she had not been averse to the idea. She had craved the closeness they shared the night before, especially in the face of her knowledge that Talorc was nearby and possibly intent on wreaking havoc.

Only she had arrived to find a coldly implacable husband and the housekeeper waiting for her. He had informed Cait that her new duties were to include overseeing the running of the household in the keep since the laird had no wife. He then introduced her to the housekeeper and left.

Marta had given Cait a tour of the keep from tower to cellar. It was more than twice the size of her brother's keep, which she found disconcerting. Not only did over two dozen soldiers have their quarters in the barracks below her and Drustan's rooms, but the housekeeper and her husband and their two children lived in quarters off the great hall. The laird's quarters were above the great hall along with a solar that the voluble Marta informed Cait was never used. Not since the laird's mother's day.

An image had risen in Cait's mind of Emily and her in the solar, surrounded by children. It had seemed so real, she'd had to blink her eyes to dispel it before attending to what Marta had been saying. But the image had come back to haunt her again and again and she could not stop herself from wondering if God had brought Emily to the Highlands, not for her brother… but for the Balmoral laird.

It was probably just wishful thinking, but she'd dreamed of it when she laid down for a rest after the housekeeper left Cait once again in her own quarters. She'd gotten very little sleep the night before and her pregnancy dictated she required more rest than usual anyway. She'd woken a while ago, both disturbed and intrigued by her dreams.

Drustan had still not returned.

Emily had remarked that Lachlan had said that he did not expect to see Drustan for a couple of days, which meant her husband had been released from his duties for that much time at least in celebration of their marriage. Apparently, he had decided after the lack of enthusiasm she had shown for remaining in his company that such a dismissal of his duties was unnecessary. Why that truth should make her teary-eyed she could not imagine, but she did her best to think of something else.

Goodness knew she had enough worries to occupy her mind. Not least of which was the fact that she had told a human the clan's secrets without asking her laird's permission. Should she tell Lachlan what she had done? If it were Talorc, she would, no matter how much she knew he might bellow. But she trusted her brother. She had yet to feel the same confidence in her new laird.

But should she tell Drustan anyway? If she did, he would no doubt tell his laird. Should she inform her husband about her brother at least? Her heart twisted at the prospect. Loyalty to her new clan dictated she do that very thing, but she couldn't. If she exposed Talorc's presence on the island, the pack warriors would go looking for him. If they found him on Balmoral land, they would kill him.

And if she did tell Drustan about her revelations to Emily, Cait would have to lie about why she had done it.

Was lying worse than withholding information? She didn't want to do either with her new husband and yet she felt she had no choice.

She was so intent on her chaotic thoughts that the first inkling she had of Drustan's presence was when her eyes focused enough to take in the fact that he was standing right in front of her.

She jumped with shock and her gaze flew to his. "Oh. You have returned."

He put his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs brushing her collarbones, his darkish red brows drawn together in concern. Green eyes probed her like fingers dipping into her soul. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she rushed out, terrified he could somehow read her thoughts. "Why would you think otherwise?"

"You did not hear me enter."

"How do you know?"

His mouth twisted mockingly, but he did not answer. Of course it was obvious she had not heard him enter. She'd acted like a scalded cat when she realized he was in front of her. Little surprise he asked if anything was the matter. He had not read her mind, not that he could. Even if they were true mates, mindspeak did not include being able to see into the other person's thoughts, only an ability to hear them when they directed those thoughts at you.

And she and Drustan were not true-mated regardless. She was his vengeance wife. No more.

"I…" Her voice trailed off to nothing when she noticed a bloody gash on his chest, a bruise on his arm and dirt smudges on the rest of him. She jumped to her feet, knocking his hands from her shoulders. "What happened? Was there a fight?"

Had they found Talorc? Her throat closed tight as terror clenched at her insides.

Puzzlement creased his features, as if he could not understand her reaction to such minor wounds. "I was practicing with the soldiers."

"Oh." Relief flooded her, quickly followed by concern. "I will get a damp cloth and cleanse your wounds."

"Wound. There is only one cut, but you can wash the rest of me if you feel the need." The sexy intonation in his voice sent her nerves rioting.

His teasing and concern were a huge improvement over his coldness earlier.

She scooted around him to cross the room to the fresh pitcher of water. She was clumsy getting the cloth wet, sloshing water onto the table as she poured it into the large basin. "I would be happy to wash you… if you like."