The Beast of Clan Kincaid (14 page)

“Of that I am well aware.”

Left alone, Niall turned back to the room, which he had only cursorily examined before. It was spacious and appointed with a bed, heaped with furs and blankets, a table, and two chairs. There was also a basin on a stand beside a narrow, shuttered window.

Very soon after his and Deargh's arrival, servants had arrived to build a fire and left a basket of bread, cheese, and ale.

He ate, and afterward, stripped naked and washed. After, he lay awake, unaccustomed to the comfort of a bed, of the sensation of linen against his bare skin. Though he should be exhausted, he could not help but think of her, of their kiss, and the way she had responded to his touch.

His heart beat strong and fast in anticipation for he knew with a certainty it would only be a few hours before he kissed her again.

*   *   *

Unfortunately, Elspeth did
not
forget Niall's kisses.

Indeed, they were the first thing she thought of when awakened the next morning by a hammering of fists on her door, and insistent female voices demanding to be let in.

“Go away!” she moaned into her pillow, exhausted, wanting only to return to the blissful unawareness of sleep.

The clamor did not cease. Knowing the relentlessness of her sisters, she pushed up from the bed and unbarred the door. Turning, she raced back to the bed and flung the blanket back over her head.

“Elspeth, come!”

“No, just tell me,” she answered, sullenly. “Whatever it is.”

If Magnus was being drawn and quartered in the bailey below, she did not wish to watch.

“You
must
see!”

“Look what the mercenaries have done.”

Niall
. Who considered her a willful child.

Her curiosity got the best of her. Taking the blanket with her, draped over her shoulders, she joined them at the window, which they pushed open. The scene beyond always took her breath away. The dramatic, sweeping expanse of green, interrupted to the north by high stone crags, and below, the wide, meandering river. But her attention dropped, drawn by the sound of thunder in the bailey below.

Cattle streamed through the open gate, twenty … thirty … nay, some forty head, lowing and mooing. A number of her father's men rode in with them, along with Deargh, and last of all, Niall. Wearing only a short tunic, and a plaid over his shoulder, his legs were bare and flexed powerfully on either side of his saddle. He sat tall atop his horse, his bearing masterful, his cheeks ruddy with color. Heat rose to her cheeks, when she remembering how passionately he had kissed her the night before.

But it had meant nothing.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Ina entered the room carrying a bucket of water, which she poured into a wide basin for Elspeth's morning bath. After, she joined them at the window. “I saw them ride out this morning, before dawn. The tall, dark-haired one there … he is very handsome.”

Elspeth sighed miserably, as Derryth teased.

“Ina! You are a happily married lady, and should not notice such things.”

Ina glanced into the bailey once more. “Even the happiest married lady would notice a man like that.”

The MacClaren men dismounted and gathered around Niall, laughing. Clasping hands. Celebrating. Several grasped up buckets from the well, and filling them, splashed Niall with water. Laughing, he removed his plaid from his shoulder, baring his tattooed skin. Securing the cloth at his waist, he lifted his arms and wrenched off his drenched tunic. Elspeth's mouth went dry, observing the flex of his muscles along his back and torso as he squeezed the water from the linen.

In that moment he looked up, and stilled, his gaze meeting hers.

“He has seen us!” Derryth exclaimed giddily. She leaned out the window, waving. “Well done! Well done!”

Elspeth withdrew, her heart racing, for in that brief moment she experienced the same flame-hot connection with him she had felt the night before, and feared if anyone saw her they would see her infatuation with Niall written plain on her face. At her bed, she pretended to straighten the linens.

Ina joined her. “Lady MacClaren asked me to tell you that your father wishes to see you downstairs.”

Elspeth's throat constricted. “Of course he does.”

More quietly, Ina said, “I also know he spent time behind a closed door with each of your suitors this morning.”

Elspeth let out an aggrieved sigh.

Her maid plucked a twig from her hair. “I heard about your excitement in the night. Is it true, what they say? Was it Magnus?”

“I don't know who it was.” Elspeth replied—then covered her face with her hands. “But yes.”

“I won't tell,” Ina said quietly, glancing at the girls who remained at the window. “Just as long as nothing of any concern took place.”

Elspeth's cheeks flushed. “It did not.”

At least, not with Magnus.

“Then get thee to the basin,” Ina ordered, with a smile. “Wash, and then I will comb and braid your hair. You must look your finest if you are to inform your father and his council that you are refusing those men who have offered for you.”

Elspeth gave a rueful laugh. “You know me too well.”

Ina squeezed her shoulder affectionately.

Her sisters came away from the window, because apparently there was nothing more to see. They chattered and gave opinions as to what she should wear and how her hair should be plaited. Elspeth, for her part, sat silent, preparing herself for what would not be an easy audience with her father and the council.

Now, in the light of day, surrounded by her sisters and everything she loved so well, she knew she would never abandon her duty to her family and clan. She would not be the willful child Niall had so wrongly proclaimed her to be. But neither would she agree to marry someone she could not abide.

After Ina secured the final braid, Elspeth left them straightaway, silently exhorting herself to be brave. Downstairs she entered her father's council room, seeking no permission or announcement.

“No doubt the Alwyn is bewildered!” The MacClaren chuckled. “Wondering where a whole herd of cattle has gone.”

Her heart clenched, seeing that Niall stood there, and Deargh, accepting accolades with a roomful of MacClaren warriors.

“Indeed, laird,” answered one of the MacClaren men. “We acted with such efficiency and stealth, I do not think they have yet realized what has occurred.”

“All thanks to this man,” said another, gesturing toward Niall. “Aye, we all learned a few new tricks today.”

Deargh looked at his companion proudly. Conall stood to the side, practically glowing in agreement.

Elspeth moved to stand beside the fire, listening in begrudging fascination, while pretending not to care. She wished she did not.

“Elspeth,” said her father.

She pivoted toward him, holding her expression calm. Though she felt Niall's gaze fix on her, she did not allow hers to waver from the laird.

“You summoned me,” she said.

“That I did,” he answered, his features growing instantly solemn.

She knew also that she did not imagine the change in the council members who were present. All went quiet and pensive.

The MacClaren thanked the other men and led them to the threshold. She glanced aside at Niall, as he moved past, covertly examining the strong line of his nose, which bore the slightest arch, and the angular slant of his jaw. Regretfully, he remained an alluring mystery, with fascinating lines and details she could not help but seek to examine further and memorize.

Yet he did not deign to look her way, employing the same air of disinterest she had employed a moment earlier, perhaps because his indifference was real, which was all for the best.

He disappeared from view, along with the others, which left her alone with her father and the members of his council, including Conall, who came toward her.

“Come and sit,” he said, with obvious sympathy.

“Thank you,” she answered in a steady voice. “But I prefer to stand.”

 

Chapter 10

“Dear child,” said Dunlop—one of the clan's longtime council members—his eyes twinkling kindly. “May I say it has been an honor to watch you grow into the beauty you are today.”

Elspeth looked at him, her arms crossed over her chest, trying to keep a mulish expression from overtaking her face. She was fond of the man and had no wish to be outright disrespectful to him.

Before she was born Dunlop had been a formidable warrior of the clan, but now walked stooped with age. When she had been little he had always given her pretty stones he had found lying about. She still had them all in a pouch, which she kept in her box of childhood treasures underneath her bed.

“I hope you know we care about your happiness,” said another, named Ennis, who years before had taught her many silly riddles, which she had in turn taught Catrin. “Each and every one of us, and we consider you as dear as a daughter. Especially those like me who have no children of our own.” He touched a hand to his heart.

Ennis's only son had died two winters before of a fever.

Three more council members looked on, clearing their throats and shifting stances repeatedly. Tellingly, they did not meet her gaze.

Her father stood near the window, looking outward. Bridget sat in his chair, plucking unsatisfactory stitches from a small frame of needlework.

Elspeth wasn't a fool. Poor Dunlop and Ennis. They had been set forth by the others to carry out a most unpleasant task. She knew what came next.

Dunlop cleared his throat. “We hope you will be flattered to know that before departing this morning, both Keppoch Macpherson
and
Alan FitzDuff, made very generous offers for your hand. Separately of course.”

He smiled up at her, chuckling faintly as if he had made some jest.

She did not smile back.

Ennis edged closer, clasping his hands together thoughtfully. “Either of these chiefs, along with their clans, would be a valuable ally to the MacClarens at a time when strong allies, who would bolster our authority, are needed most. But you know this, because you have faithfully attended these meetings of ours and understand the dangers of the world in which we live. You also know the threat from the Alwyn clan has become more serious. More grave. Which is certainly why Magnus attempted to force your hand last night, so as to legitimize their claims on what have become disputed lands. Including the lands upon which this castle sits … your family's home, and the heart of our clan. Of course, you know just as well as any of us, that we cannot allow that to happen.”

Her father turned from the window. “What say you, my daughter? Which of these men would you choose as your husband?”

Although they were the exact words she'd expected to hear, she gritted her teeth, finding them utterly distasteful. But she must remain calm and dignified, and make the council and her father see rational sense. It was the only way she would win them to her side.

“I understand the danger to our clan,” she said. “And can plainly see why you find value in these men as allies, but I respectfully decline to marry either of them.”

“Think longer on this choice—” urged Dunlop, his hands raised in a gentle plea.

“Ponder all they offer for a few days more, child.” Ennis nodded.

Though her heart beat a tumultuous thrum, she forced her countenance to remain placid. “I am no child, but a woman grown and I know my mind. I could have five hundred days to think on the two choices with which I have been presented, and I still would never choose Alan FitzDuff or Keppoch Macpherson to be my husband.”

“Daughter—” the MacClaren hissed, in a warning voice.

The men of his council whispered among themselves, their faces grave and judging.

She had never defied her father. To do so now, before his council, sucked the air from her lungs and crushed her heart. She moved to stand before him, her composure close to fracturing—but not her resolve.

“I am prepared to do my duty. I am
not
unreasonable. I am agreeable to marrying, and marrying with haste.” Looking at her father, she said, “You told me I would be able to choose—”

“So
choose
,” he thundered, eyes wide.

“This is no choice,” she shouted back with equal ire. “I will not accept it as such.”

The words echoed in her ears ugly and shameful. Not because she did not mean them, or doubt she was entitled to say them but because she had shouted them and she had never before raised her voice to her father.

“Elspeth!” Bridget rebuked, looking shocked.

She stood her ground, unmoving. “I know my rights within the law. You cannot force me to marry either of those men against my will, and I tell you now, firmly resolved, that I will accept neither. I will not be swayed.”

Her father's nostrils flared.

“Certainly there are other choices, and other clans,” she suggested calmly. “Give me—give
us
just a bit more time to find a more suitable choice.”

Elspeth's back ached from holding it so straight and proud. But she would not bow to their expectations until their expectations matched hers.

Niall's face flashed across her mind, blue eyed and handsome. Through mere will, she forced the vision away, knowing he was just as unsuitable as the others.

The chief's gaze faltered.

“Please … leave us,” he said to his council. “I wish to speak to my daughter alone.”

“I, too, would like to stay,” said Bridget, standing from her chair.

Her father scowled in annoyance.

“It is my right,” she said, standing and dropping the embroidery frame to the chair behind her. “As your wife and her stepmother.”

He nodded, his lips pressed thin.

One by one, the council members left the room.

Her father turned to her. Rather than shouting out a lecture about her selfishness, as she expected, he looked at her with soft and loving eyes.