Susan King - [Celtic Nights 01] (4 page)

She waved back and walked ahead, then nearly tripped when her toe struck a stick in the ground. Bending, she picked up a discarded arrow that lay deep in the heather. The arrow was weathered and shabby, although the iron point was still sharp.

She wondered if this was the omen she sought. If so, it was a poor one, for it must mean more war.

She began to toss it away, then stopped, remembering her recent dream of a golden warrior whose shield bore the design of a single arrow. He had offered to save her distressed people. Entranced, she had been willing to go with him, even to the Otherworld.

She sighed, thinking of that strong, beautiful warrior. But dreams were of no use to her now.

Finan barked and ran toward her kinsmen. She followed thoughtfully, the arrow clasped in her hand.

"Alainna!" Her foster brother, Giric, ran toward her through the long grasses, ahead of her elderly cousin Niall and Lulach, one of her two great-uncles. The dog bounded toward them. Giric touched a hand to Finan's head in passing and received an adoring look in return.

They came toward her, Giric moving with agile grace despite his tall, large build. His brown hair blew loose around his handsome head, and a belted plaid fluttered over muscular legs.

"We saw you with Cormac," he said. "What did he want?"

"We will slay the man! Where did he go?" Niall asked. His cheeks were sunken and whiskered, his thin lips tight with anger. A breeze fluttered his silvery hair over his face. He pushed it back with the scarred stump of his left wrist.

"Are you hurt, girl?" Lulach stepped forward, his hair iron and silver, his blue eyes angry. "I would have killed Black Cormac myself if I had seen where he went."

"Your old legs could not catch him," Niall said.

"Let me worry what my old legs can do," Lulach snapped. "They are younger legs than yours."

"I am fine," Alainna assured them quickly. "I am under the protection of the Maiden. Cormac would never harm me here."

"He would be a fool to test the spell," Niall said.

"He
is
a fool," Lulach pointed out.

"You need the protection of a blade, not an old stone," Giric said. Usually relaxed in manner, he was tense, his hands fisted. "Do not trust any man of Clan Nechtan."

"Cormac would not dare harm me," she reassured them. But she shivered inwardly, recalling Cormac's threats.

"She has no blade, but she does have an arrow," Niall said. He peered at the shaft in her hand. "Where did you get that?"

"I found it in the grass."

"Elf-arrow," he said. "Lost by the faeries."

"It is human-made," Lulach said. "Needs new feathering, but the point is still good."

"I found it after I made an offering to the Maiden. It may be an omen," Alainna said.

"True, a sign that there will soon be one less MacNechtan," Niall said. "It is good to make an offering on such a fine day, but you should not come out here alone."

"And you will not have the Maiden's protection for long," Lulach said. "Soon we will mark the end of seven hundred years of the faery spell."

"It is months until Saint Brighid's day," Alainna said.

"So what did Black Cormac want?" Niall asked.

"To take your other hand," Lulach drawled.

"Baothan,"
Niall grumbled, "blockhead."

Giric stifled a laugh. "Peace, I beg of you! Alainna wants all of her kinfolk to bide the winter at Kinlochan. But she has enough to worry her without you two adding to that."

"Fine, then," Niall said. "Alainna, we saw Esa at her home in the hills last night. She refuses to come to Kinlochan. We even offered to carry her great loom, but she wants to stay by her own hearth."

"I wish we could convince her to join us," Alainna said.

"Convince slate to turn to marble," Lulach said. "She has made up her mind."

"She mourns her Ruari
Mor
still, though it has been over a year since his death." Alainna sighed. "A bond like theirs—ah, it must be hard to lose the other."

"We will talk to her again," Giric said. "Now tell us what Cormac wanted."

"It is obvious what he wants and we should take his head off for it," Lulach said, fisting his hands on his hips.

"He spoke of marriage," Alainna said. "I will explain later, over some hot porridge. I am hungry." She stepped forward and whistled to Finan, who had strayed to the loch's edge.

"Cormac MacNechtan thinks to wed our
toiseach,
our leader, our own youngest one?" Niall asked, as the men walked beside her. "That cannot happen!"

"Our clans need peace, and she needs a husband, but not that husband," Lulach said.

"Though it is time you married, Alainna," her brother said.

"We would never find a warrior willing to join a feud, and who would please this clan," she replied.

"Marriage to the female chief of Clan Laren offers fine rewards," Niall said. "Forests filled with deer, a loch thick with fish, grass for cattle, a beautiful girl of proud blood—"

"And a blood feud generations old," Alainna added bitterly.

"You are our youngest one, the last of our blood," Lulach said. "The right marriage can make our clan safe again."

Safe.
She wanted that for them, so much. Her throat tightened. "But whoever I wed would give his name to our children. What then for Clan Laren?"

Her kinsmen were silent as they walked beside her.

"Your husband could take our name," Niall suggested. "It is sometimes done."

"I have heard of it, but have not seen it done," Lulach said.

Alainna frowned. "We would never find a man who would accept our troubles, let alone our name."

"If only you could marry our Giric," Niall said. "He is not your blood kin, and he loves all of us well."

"But he is her foster brother," Lulach pointed out.

"It is up to the king to decide whom she will wed," Giric said. "He has the right to choose a husband for an unmarried heiress. Alainna, you must pay homage for your inheritance soon. Ask King William for help in the matter."

She nodded, realizing that she could appeal to the king before Cormac's petition was considered and approved. "I will, but it must be soon."

"Giric can ride with you to the royal court," Niall said.

"The king winters in Dunfermline, two days' journey from here. He will surely know of some Highland warrior hungry for land, and hungry for a feud."

"What if he suggests a foreign knight?" Lulach asked.

Niall shook his head. "We will tell him what we want. We are loyal, and he does not want to see an ancient clan disappear. He will support us and find us the Celtic champion that we need."

"Alainna," Giric said quietly, watching her. "This is what you desire in a husband, is it not?"

"What pleases my kin pleases me," she said, but her voice trembled suddenly.

Her secret desire would be impossible to fulfill, she knew. The golden warrior she had seen once in a dream did not exist.

She turned away, still gripping the old arrow in her hand, and walked toward the rocky slope that led to Kinlochan's wooden gate.

Chapter 2

The king's chamberlain called the next petitioner forward. Sebastien stood tall and disinterested on the royal dais, scarcely listening. A woman parted from the crowd, and he glimpsed the gold and bronze sheen of her braided hair as she glided closer.

His attention was wholly captured then. Silent and still, an honor guard for the king of Scots, he narrowed his eyes, alert. She was like a lush blossom among winter weeds in that crowded chamber, and he could not keep from watching her.

The two knights standing with him breathed out low whistles. Sounds of admiration rippled through the throng: a gathering of knights, ladies, merchants, peasants, even barbarians from the hills, all of whom waited in the great hall to seek justice from King William. The morning had been tedious, and the girl's appearance broke the monotony.

Sebastien felt more than relief from boredom: he felt stunned, as if something more remarkable was happening than a girl stepping out of a crowd. He frowned slightly, head high, shoulders straight, a hand on his sword hilt. He could hold that motionless stance for a very long time, ignoring distractions while keeping his attention honed.

This distraction he could not ignore. Sunlight streaming through high windows transformed her into a vision. She sank to her knees with fluid grace, dressed in a midnight blue gown and a plaid mantle woven in brown and purple.

The chamberlain asked her to state her name.
"Alainne nighean Labhrainn mac Labhrainn an Ceann Lochan,"
she murmured in Gaelic, although the chamberlain had spoken in English. Sebastien heard the pride in her low, entrancing voice.

"Who is the Highland lady?" the knight beside him asked.

"She is called Alainna MacLaren of Kinlochan," Sebastien answered quietly, pronouncing the name
ALL-inna
as the girl had done. Hugo and Robert, the two knights who stood flanking Sebastien, both nodded.

Seated in his chair, William of Scotland leaned toward her, his cropped hair a darker red than hers, and greeted her in Gaelic. Sebastien's position gave him a clear view, and he could easily hear most of what was said as the girl explained her business with the king.

"Bastien, you have had enough lessons in the native tongue to translate for us." Robert de Kerec, the knight standing to his left, spoke again using English, a habit between them no matter where they were—France, Brittany, England, or Scotland. Robert was his oldest friend, and though both were of Breton origin, they had trained together in England as squires and knights.

"He has had plenty of instruction." Hugo de Valognes, standing beside Robert, grinned. "The pretty girl who teaches him shares more than Gaelic—though I would wager that Bastien is more teacher than pupil in some things!"

"We do meet for lessons," Sebastien answered smoothly, staring straight ahead. Hugo chortled and elbowed Robert.

Most Norman knights at the Scottish court spoke English and French, and most knew little of the native language. Sebastien had mastered French, English, and Latin as a youth, in addition to his native Breton, and Gaelic had proved easy for him. With a three-year tenure of service to the king of Scotland to fulfill, he had welcomed the challenge.

The knight's daughter had offered to teach him, and as it turned out, she had been eager to enjoy more intimate interests too. He had a natural affinity for both pursuits. Bartering one gentle skill for another was fair, he and the girl had agreed. His teacher liked his quick wit and his flawed handsomeness, and admired his strength and valor, yet she asked no more than the friendship and comfort they gave each other.

"What else does she say?" Robert asked.

"Alainna of Kinlochan is the leader of a Highland clan, here to pay homage for her inheritance following her father's death," Sebastien replied.

His two Breton comrades nodded again. Dressed similarly in chain mail and deep green surcoats trimmed in silver, the three tall knights stood nearest the king as members of an elite honor guard prized for valor, military skills, discipline, and golden looks.

Robert was slim and pale haired, while Hugo was broad and coarse, with hair like brass. Sebastien knew that his own unmatched skills and dark golden hair had gained him a privileged place among the knights sent by the Duke of Brittany to serve King William.

"A Highland heiress? Interesting," Hugo remarked. "She does not look the savage."

Sebastien silently agreed as he studied the girl. Her pale creamy skin, was now blushed pink, and long, thick braids of a coppery tint fell over the front of her supple body. Her eyes appeared to be the same dark blue as her elegantly cut gown. She looked like any Norman or English lady, he thought, but for the plaid mantle draped over her shoulders and pinned at her throat with a large silver circlet. Belted at her waist, it spilled in gentle gathers over her hips.

Nicely shaped hips, Sebastien noted, along with a slip of a waist, long legs and arms, square shoulders, full breasts. Her form and her flame-colored hair had an earthly allure in contrast to her serene oval face.