Highland Dragon (27 page)

Akira stared at the lone candle burning in the corner of the empty chapel. Dust filled the beams of colored lights pouring into the place of worship from the stained-glass windows. In a trance, she held tight to her rosary and prayed for guidance the same as she had every morn since her conversation with the midwife. Gunnie had questioned Akira about her menses, and after much discourse, Gunnie explained that the babe had probably been dying before Akira had ever been taken to Brycen Castle.

A tear left a path down her cheek, and she absentmindedly brushed the droplet away. Crying was no longer an emotion she fought. There had been many to console her, offering sympathies and food for her table. She fought the outpouring initially, but found the more she listened to their stories and encouraging words, the easier her loss was to accept. Many had grieved alongside her for the loved ones they’d lost in the battle. Dalkirth had been forever changed. But the kinfolk had begun to rebuild—their homes and their lives, their sense of pride and well-being. Even Darach found peace in a cot-house outside the bailey.

Akira closed her eyes and kissed the crucifix of her rosary. She wanted to find peace as well. She prayed for it, willed the ache to leave her heart. Though people had surrounded her for weeks, she’d never felt so alone in her life. Images of Calin flashed behind her lids causing her breath to hitch on a sob. She touched her lips and could almost feel his kiss. Her heart screamed at her to accept him back into her life, to forgive him for the secrets he’d hidden from her. Stubbornness made a poor companion.

The sound of shuffling feet brought her out of her misery.

Father Harrald grunted as he genuflected at the edge of the pew, crossed himself, and then knelt alongside her. Every wheezing breath he took sounded like his last as it echoed inside the chapel.

“Would ye like to confess, lass?” he said into his folded hands as he had every morn for more than a month.

“I am in love with my husband,” she replied without pause and felt lightheaded from having voiced the words aloud.

Father Harrald chuckled, drew back the hood of his habit, and pushed himself back into the pew. She followed his action and allowed him to hold her hand between his cold callused ones. “’Tis not a sin to love one’s husband.”

Akira circled the bare finger that once wore Calin’s wedding band. “He lied to me.”

“He kept a secret to protect ye, lass. Laird Kinnon was a verra disturbed mon. I fear I couldnae reach his soul. Your husband saved ye from the laird’s evil intentions when ye were but a babe.” Father Harrald’s voice was gentle as he tried to explain.

Akira turned to study the priest she had confided in since she was a child. Beneath bushy white brows, his light blue eyes seemed focused and clear, which was unusual. “Calin has confessed this to ye?”

“’Tis nay a sin to protect an innocent child. Your husband was there when ye were born, hidden in the walls of the keep. What he witnessed would haunt a mon the whole of his life.” Father Harrald trembled. “It has mine.”

Akira squeezed his hand, realizing for the first time the priest had been there as well.

“He was a verra frightened boy then and could have just as easily left ye,” he added. “I would have buried ye alongside your sisters had he done so.”

Akira wiped a tear from her cheek while others quickly pooled in her eyes. Her anger had died weeks before and had been replaced with such sadness she felt hollow. She had tried to push Calin from her heart, but failed miserably. He had protected the secret of her lineage to protect her, and instead of thanking him, she had accused him of stealing her life.

“I want to go home,” she admitted in confidence.

“Come then. I will walk ye.” Father Harrald moved to stand, but she stopped him with a tug on his arm.

“Nay. I want to go home to Cànwyck Castle.” In truth, she missed the kinfolk and her sister, Isobel. But most of all, she missed Calin. “’Tis selfish of me. I have a responsibility to the people of Dalkirth and my defiance of our king’s edict could cost Clan MacLeod everything. But my heart is with my husband. I am utterly alone without him.”

“Ye place too much responsibility on yourself, lass. Kendrick can lead Clan Kinnon if ye will it, and King James, in all of his power, cannae prevent ye from loving your husband.”

But did he love her in return? He’d never said the words, nor had he returned to fight for her.

Father Harrald stood and held out his hand to her. “Mayhap ’tis time for ye to go home.”

Calin had lived through three cracked ribs and a broken arm at Glasgow, a sword wound to his back at Drumchatt, and a multitude of injuries from battles too numerous to count, but a broken heart proved to be the most painful wound he’d ever endured in all his twenty-eight years.

He sat in the shadows of his solar rolling the Celtic ring around his fingertip. The ring that belonged to his wife. A wife he hadn’t seen in nearly a month, but Akira would come home this day, if only for a visit. She wouldn’t miss Isobel’s wedding.

The ring had been cold to the touch since the day she’d removed it. However, today the silver felt warm like the blacksmith just finished forging the metal.

He could feel her near, almost smell her sweet scent. Longing for his wife seemed a punishment for the most heinous of crimes. A punishment he rightly deserved. He failed to protect her. He betrayed her trust, betrayed her loyalty to him. His acts of deception had cost him his wife, his family, his soul.

Now an even greater punishment lay before him. He would suffer her presence, knowing how much she hated him. What would he say to her? Ask her how she’s faring and offer her some cheese and wine? How could he look at her and not touch her? Calin closed his hand over the ring and gripped it into his palm.

The soft tap against the door startled him.

“Calin, may I enter?” Aunt Wanda pushed the door open without waiting for reply. “Isobel is ready and Jaime is as nervous as a mayfly in a freshly spun web.”

Calin nodded, then turned to place the ring back in a rusted strongbox between an old feather and a few colored pebbles for safekeeping. In a rush of embarrassment, he returned the other keepsakes into the box and closed the lid. “Is she here?”

“Aye. Akira arrived not long ago with Father Harrald and her kin. They are with the congregation outside the kirk.”

Calin heard the swoosh of Aunt Wanda’s skirts just before her hand cupped his elbow. She had been there for him unconditionally. The fortress upon which he bared his soul, his pain, and his grief. Her soothing voice always chased his demons away as a child—today was no different.

“She looks verra weel. ’Twill be good for ye to see her again. The days we see of happiness are too few and ’tis necessary for us to be at peace together…necessary for us to heal. Ye should be at her side when Isobel walks through the assembly.”

Calin turned around to face his aunt and lose himself in the comfort of her soft green eyes. “And if she does not want me at her side?”

“Then ye will give her more time.” Aunt Wanda brushed the lapel of his doublet and straightened the MacLeod brooch pinning his plaid over his shoulder. Stroking his smooth chin, she popped a mint leaf on his tongue and smiled. “Come. Ye look divine. She’ll not be able to resist ye.”

Calin didn’t budge when she tugged on his elbow. Every muscle in his body corded with anxiety. “What will I say to her?”

Aunt Wanda shook her head, rolled her eyes heavenward, and shot him a look as if to call him an ignorant ass. One of her favored accolades she reserved for Uncle Kerk. “’Tis not sacrilege for a mon to tell his wife that he loves her.”

“But I’ve never spoken such words. Not even to ye or Uncle Kerk.”

“’Tis because your uncle is an oaf and never allowed me to coddle ye with such sweet words. Said ’twould make ye less of a warrior, less of a mon. I should’ve fed him hot horse dung and told ye anyway.” She swept her cinnamon lashes downward and toyed with the folds of his plaid. “Ye and Jaime are the sons I never had, and I regret not telling both o’ ye every day of your lives that I love ye.”

Calin stilled her hands. Age only emphasized his aunt’s beauty. “Then Uncle Kerk does not say these words to ye?”

She snorted loudly, her dark red locks sprinkled gray bounced with the action. “Of course he does. Every morn and every nigh’. Think ye I’d be married to a mon who does not love me?”

Calin bent and kissed her on the forehead. He’d lived with many regrets in his lifetime. Not speaking soft words was one of them. “Thank ye. I am grateful to have been blessed with ye for a mother.” He caught the single tear that escaped her eye. “I love ye, too, Aunt Wanda.”

A blush colored her face clear to her ears beneath the words he wished he’d shared with her years ago—words that had not been so difficult to say.

When Calin caught a glimpse of Akira, he wanted to run to her, embrace her and never let her go. Instead, he feared his feet wouldn’t carry him the full distance to the kirk. His stomach churned with the same intensity that gripped him when he raised his sword in battle.

Despite the cold, a coral hue touched her cheeks, and her jeweled eyes sparkled like polished sapphires with each heartwarming hug she received. Wearing a deep plum kirtle, she embraced the MacLeod kinswomen and children in overdue greetings.

Calin had not been the only one to miss the Lady o’ Cànwyck Castle. The children had been devastated when Akira hadn’t appeared for lessons, and the women moped for sennights during her absence.

But she was here now and, coward that he was, Calin couldn’t coerce his legs into closing the ten remaining steps between them.

The smell of snow laced the crisp air and swirls of mist danced out his nose with each warm exhale. When the pipes struck up the announcing tune, the rustling crowd stilled in anticipation.

She looked at him.

He looked away.

Aunt Wanda guided him toward Akira then took a place next to Uncle Kerk. Lil’ Andrew stood between them, a proud smile wrapped around the thumb in his mouth, and his chubby fingers latched securely in Akira’s hand.

By the saints! She’s your wife. Have the courage to at least look at her.
Calin kept his gaze downcast, ignoring the voice inside his head. He was indeed a pathetic excuse for a leader. He couldn’t even look at his own wife for fear he’d shatter into a million pieces.

He could feel her though. Her presence alone somehow gave him a sense of peace. He stood with his hands fisted at his sides and awaited the bride, as did everyone around him.

Visibly distraught, Jaime waited at the chapel entrance with Father Harrald at his right. In an effort to relieve some of his obvious tension, Jaime rolled his head on his neck and grabbed hold of the leg shaking uncontrollably. His twitching came to an abrupt halt when Isobel appeared around the bend of people. Her pace was slow, and her weight favored one leg while she supported the other with a wooden cane, but she walked.

Isobel had accepted Calin’s offer to stay in the keep during Akira’s absence. Of course, neither expected Akira to be gone so long. Aileen and Elsbeth graciously offered to aid Isobel with her recovery, knowing she wouldn’t marry Jaime until she could walk to the kirk. Today would be the first time Akira would see Isobel walk in more than ten years.

Akira sniffled, as did her sisters at her side.

To his shock, Andrew’s small fingers threaded through Calin’s. He looked down his nose and watched the lad innocently exchange his hand for Akira’s just before Andrew sidestepped around her and back to his mother’s side.

It took a great deal of restraint for him not to crush the slender fingers squeezing his hand. He breathed through his mouth to subside the burning in his chest and welcomed the frigid air passing over his teeth to cool his emotions. Trapped by her soft warm touch paralyzing him both inside and out, the pressure of a month’s longing came full force to the surface. He closed his eyes and desperately tried to ease his torment.

Father Harrald spoke, but he heard few of the priest’s words. What seemed like an eternity was in fact only moments later when a gentle tug encouraged his movement. The congregation followed Jaime and Isobel into the kirk for the second ceremony. Akira held tight to his sweaty palm and drew him up beside her. Only then did he dare a quick glance at her.

She smiled at him and the gates guarding his pain flew wide open.

He didn’t dare hope that she might have forgiven him. That was a prayer he was certain had gone unanswered.

The ceremony proved unbearable for him. Hearing the vows he and Akira spoke not long ago and watching Jaime kiss Isobel shattered his already unstable composure. He had to gain control over his emotions before she reduced him to a sniveling twit. When the crowd followed the bride and groom to the Great Hall, he broke his hold with Akira and rushed to the stable. He couldn’t escape fast enough.

Once out of earshot, the frightened boy inside him emerged front and center. The one who cried when no one was looking.

Akira watched him flee into a sparse flutter of snowflakes falling from a gray January sky. She hugged herself to ward off a shudder. The sudden cold crawled up her empty hand. The same cold and hollow feeling had dwelled in her heart since losing her child…and her husband.

Wiping her cheek, she welcomed Wanda’s comforting arm at her waist.

“Calin has not fared as weel as ye.” Wanda hugged her. “He still mourns for your child, but even more so for ye. He’s just a mon, m’lady. A mon who prays every day for redemption.”

Akira had felt his pain through his hand. He’d been hesitant to touch her, and she was responsible for that distance. The last words she’d spoken to him were harsh, but she’d acted out in anger. She knew now he wasn’t to blame and, more than anything, she wanted to take away the guilt she’d burdened him with and whatever battles awaited them with King James, they would fight together, as husband and wife.

Akira moved to go to him, but Wanda held tight to her arm. “He wouldnae want ye to see him like this.”

“I must speak to him.”

“He’s a mon in a great deal o’ pain. I know ye have suffered a terrible loss, but so has he. Nay one knows his pain more than I. When he’s ready, he will come to ye. Listen to his words and dinnae judge him.” Wanda paused long enough to give Akira’s hand a gentle pat, then diverted the subject. “Now, your sister is celebrating her marriage, and I think she would be sorely disappointed if ye missed the festivities.”

Akira accepted Wanda’s wisdom and decided to allow him time to compose himself. She followed Wanda back to the Great Hall where the jovial music of pipes and strings only served as a backdrop to the hum of merriment. Jaime twirled Isobel in a dance and the onslaught of feasting was well underway.

A throng of kinfolk embraced her the moment she entered the Great Hall. For more than an hour, she accepted sympathies from the women and listened patiently to the children reminisce about their Christmastide.

A familiar hand tugged at her skirt. Akira knew who she would find before she ever turned around. “’Tis good to see ye again, Andrew.” She squatted to eye level with the sprightly young lad and popped his nose with a kiss. He must have grown two full hands in her absence. Aileen beamed behind him with a new bairn swaddled in her arms, tiny pink fingers escaped the linens and swatted the air.

“I’ve a new sister, m’lady. I got to pick her name, because I was last born,” Andrew said, as if he’d repeated those same words a hundred times.

Akira stood, her knees knocking, and peeled back the linen covering the bairn’s face. She was an angel. A perfect pug nose, round cheeks, enormous blue eyes, and heart-shaped lips. It was impossible for Akira not to think of the child she’d lost. Her heart stung for the next two beats before she forged past her sorrow. “And what wonderful name did ye choose for such a beautiful sister?”

Andrew gloated so big his cheeks almost pushed his blue eyes shut. “Akira. I named her Akira. Same as your name, m’lady.”

A steady stream of tears curled around Akira’s cheeks and into her smile while she lightly squeezed Aileen. How did this little boy always manage to inch his way into her heart?

When Elsbeth approached her, Akira fanned herself to compose her emotions, and then blew a sigh of relief. Thank Heavens Gordon had escorted Catriona to a private chamber until after the council meeting. Catriona had shown her naught but gratitude and respect over the past month at Brycen Castle, but the MacLeod kin couldn’t possibly understand their bond. Akira could only hope Elsbeth might one day forgive her sister.

Seeing Elsbeth plump with child alongside a man Akira assumed was her English husband caught her unguarded. Certainly, she didn’t expect Elsbeth to still be mourning Ian’s death, but what struck her more odd was the crossbarred plaid pleated to perfection over the Englishman’s royal blue doublet.

Only after almost crushing Akira’s ribs, did Elsbeth offer a brief introduction. “M’lady, I would like ye to meet my husband, Robert MacLeod.”

Akira extended her hand, palm down to receive his kiss, but cocked her head in question. “He took m’laird’s name?”

“Aye. Much has happened in your absence, m’lady,” Elsbeth explained. “A steward to the King of Scotland arrived just a sennight after ye departed. King James granted my annulment, and m’laird sent a missive to my Robert the following day. Since ye know I could not return to England, my Robert denounced King Henry and pledged fealty to Laird MacLeod.”

Seemingly proud of his new attire, Robert exposed a wide grin behind his cropped black beard and kissed Akira’s knuckles. “I am eternally indebted to ye, m’lady, for returning me to my wife and son. The information I supplied your husband is a scant beginning to the gratitude I intend to bestow upon your kin.”

Akira’s smile came slowly, but she only retained two words out of the man’s well-spoken mouth—
your husband.

Where was her husband?

Another hour passed painfully slowly. While trying to entertain idle chatter with the kinswomen, she watched the entrance and waited to see Calin’s face.

She needed to speak with him and absolve him of the guilt she had, in her despair, placed on him. When the guests followed Father Harrald into the snow-blanketed bailey for the blessing of the marriage bed, she snuck away in search of Calin.

The stable was empty, as well as the kirk. Akira returned to the keep and climbed the steps of the west tower. A wave of angst stirred low in her stomach as she pieced together the words she would say when she found him.

Standing at his solar door, she questioned whether to knock or just go in. She pushed the door open and whispered his name. Her heart pounded against her vocal cords.