Highland Sons: The Mackay Saga (3 page)

Kenzie approached Lady Mackay. “Have you seen my mother?”

The older woman glanced up. “Ah, Kenzie. Nay, I’ve not seen her, but I’d like you to meet Maggie McDelavin.” She set aside her embroidery. “Maggie, Kenzie and her mother are staying with us until their cottage can be repaired.”

Maggie took so long studying Kenzie that she felt like the prize sheep at the fair.

“Indeed. And how long might the repairs take?” Maggie’s voice held the cold of the moors in winter.

“We’re not sure.” Kenzie recognized jealousy; she’d seen enough of it from village women. Which man here did Maggie think of as her own? Whichever one, Kenzie had best avoid him.

Maggie’s attention shifted, her eyes narrowing as she assessed someone behind Kenzie.

“And I’d thought not to see you again.”

Kenzie whipped around at the sound of the oily voice. The Witch Pricker. What would he be doing here?

The witch hunter smiled and inclined his head. “I see you remember me. Good. And from what I overheard, you’ll be staying a while. How fortunate. Laird Mackay has also offered me his hospitality.”

Cold enveloped her, and she smoothed her skirt against her thigh. How could Bane have allowed a man like this to stay under his roof? Didn’t he realize the trouble he could cause? “I doubt we will have the opportunity to get to know one another. Lady Mackay has asked us to help restore the gardens.”

“Very considerate of you. But, surely your evenings will be your own. I look forward to spending time with you.”

“If you’ll excuse me. My mother needs help unpacking our things.” She brushed by him and headed up the stairs to the solar.

“Until later then.”

The witch picker’s voice trailed after her as she ascended the stairs. Her plan to avoid Bane for the next few days had seemed so simple. Now she’d have to search the laird out, and find some way to convince him that Robert McGown couldn’t stay. If he did, she had no doubt there would be trouble. Bane thought he controlled his clan, but he’d never seen peaceful villagers turn into a superstitious mob.

She had.

Kenzie searched the training field in the dim light of the new day. Was Bane wont to practice this early? She’d not slept much last eve and hoped to speak with him at his morning meal, but he’d already left.

Flashes of red and blue swirled as the men’s kilts danced with each parry and thrust of their deadly short swords. Mist curled around their ankles, giving the impression that they were not of this earth. Only the clanging of the weapons could be heard in the still morning, adding to the eerie effect.

Kenzie swallowed. Men or no, she needed to speak with Bane. Unease nipped at her like a wildcat herding her kitten. She’d not remain here with McGowan at the castle.

In spite the confusion on the field, Bane’s imposing form drew Kenzie’s gaze. His large frame and regal bearing left no doubt about his role as leader.

He stood near a stone wall that edged the practice area, and appeared to be in earnest conversation with two of his men. Though they were at the far end of the field, she still made out the downward turn of his brows. Mayhap this wasn’t the best time to speak with him, but she didn’t dare tarry. Her mother agreed that if McGowan stayed, they should depart by mid-day.

As she made her way along the outside edge of the wall, one of the fighting men glanced in her direction. His opponent chose that moment to advance. The blade’s tip swept across the distracted man’s chest, cutting through his white shirt. With a yell, the victim jumped back. Too late. His eyes were wide as he glanced down at the drops of blood and slash in his clothing.

The fighting stopped.

Bane strode across the field, his kilt slapping his knees in his haste. He stopped a few feet from the skirmish. “McAdam, what were you about? Your like to get yourself killed.”

Everyone followed the injured man’s gaze as it came to rest on her. If Bane’s expression had been unhappy before, it grew thunderous before he turned back to his clansman. “It takes but a comely lass to bring you to your knees?” Bane clenched his hand over the hilt of the sword at his waist. “Sutherland and his clan need only send out their prettiest lasses to defeat us?”

McAdam’s petulant voice carried across the field. “She’s more than a beauty. She draws a man’s eye like a bee to honey.”

“‘Tis dead you’ll be if you allow any distractions.” Bane came to stand near her before continuing. “Each day, for as long as she’s here, Lady McCleod will visit the training field.”

The murmurs started with McAdam and rippled through the men. Emboldened by the support, the injured man drew himself up and faced Bane. “I’ll not have her here.”

“Will you not?” Though quiet, Bane’s words held menace. “Are you challenging me then?”

The man’s face lost some color, but his voice carried arrogance. “Aye.”

“Very well. To first, or in your case, second blood.” Bane crossed to the wall, stripped off his shirt, and left it on the stone.

Kenzie tried to moisten her mouth, but in spite of swallowing several times, her efforts were in vain.
He’s beautiful.
Perhaps that wasn’t the right word. Two scars marred a spot near his belly button, but the muscled expanse of his chest looked as though it had been made for war.

Or love.

She put a hand to her throat. What was the matter with her? She should be looking away, but he held her captive with his fluid grace. He moved with the assurance of a predator. Danger became tangible in the set of his jaw and narrowing eyes, which at that moment were the color of a turbulent storm-tossed loch.

Bane faced off against his clansman, his sword whipping through the air as he flexed his wrist. At an unspoken sign, the two men came together, their blades ringing as they fought.

Right from the start Bane had more skill, and his muscles bunched and lengthened with practiced movements. The confrontation had the strangest effect on her. At one point, she realized she’d forgotten to breathe. Heat curled through her, despite the coolness of the morn.

Bane never once glanced in her direction, so she felt no apprehension about staring at him as he fought. Odd, the battle didn’t worry her overmuch. As their leader, he would never kill one of his own men. This was a challenge to his authority, and from the look of determination on his face, he had no intention of losing. But it wasn’t his face that she couldn’t turn away from.

What would it be like to have the right to run her hands over his body, exploring the contours? No doubt, he’d have an iron control over his desire, just as he controlled everything in his life. But what if his
beast
was free, would his passion ignite? She shivered. Would she be able to match the power she felt in him?

With a start, she realized the battle had ended. McAdam’s arm showed an angry red welt that matched the wound on his chest. In spite of his injuries, he glared at her as he left the training field.

She raised her chin, then dared to look at Bane. He stood, sword in hand, staring at her. His chest heaved, and some of his hair had come loose from its cue, adding to his untamed appearance.

His compelling eyes were banked embers as they narrowed on her. She felt his challenge to the tips of her toes.

With a catch in her throat, she turned and ran.

‘Twas the second time she’d run from him. Bane sheathed his weapon and drew the shirt over his head. He couldn’t let this continue.

With long strides he covered the distance to the castle and entered the Great Hall. “I’m looking for Lady McCleod.”

Maggie straightened from strewing rushes on the floor. “Laird Mackay, won’t you stay and have a cool tankard of ale?” She smiled, then bent low to pour the drink, her neckline exposing the tops of her breasts. As Maggie extended the cup, she used the tip of her tongue to moisten her mouth. The invitation used to flatter him, until he’d discovered ‘twas his position and power she found enthralling.

Bane waved away the drink and grasped his sword hilt. “Nay. I’ve an urgent matter with Lady McCleod.”

Maggie set the cup on the table. Her voice held the ice of winter. “Very well. Last I saw her, she was running toward the stable.”

Bane rushed from the room, his heart pounding. She wouldn’t be foolish enough to ride out alone.

Would she?

Kenzie pressed her nose against the stallion’s neck. In a stable filled with animals, of course she would be drawn to
his
horse. Her fingers combed the silky black mane in a rhythmic pattern.

“He’s not for me.” She leaned back and looked the horse in the eye. “You understand that, don’t you, Night?”

“Nay, he does not. And neither do I.”

She whirled, falling back against the large animal. “Laird Mackay.”

“Bane. When we’re alone, I want you to use my given name.”

He came to a stop but a foot away, so that she had to look up to meet his gaze. They stood that way for long moments. Kenzie was afraid to move, afraid to breathe for fear of breaking the spell. Why
didn’t he simply kiss her?
His eyes told her he wanted to, and wrong as it may be, she wanted him as well.

He placed his hands along the back of the stallion, one on each side of her head, embracing her without touching. “Why do you run?”

“Because, I . . . Mayhap, I’m not used to kisses.” She ducked under one of his arms and crossed to the feeding trough.

He turned, but didn’t follow her. “Aye. I’ll believe that, but ‘tis something else your not telling me.”

So he didn’t like her kiss? Well, she’d never kissed a man before. See if she’d kiss him again.

And as for the other.

Cold seeped into her soul at the thought. “I do not like to think about it. Besides, it shouldna matter now.”

“The past always matters.”

“Mayhap, I was but a wee bairn, barely 5 summers when the men came to our cottage. ‘Twas a long time ago.” She could still remember every detail of their appearance, the stench of whiskey filling the tiny room, the lust in their eyes as they gazed at her mother. Both men were members of their clan.

Bane crossed his arms and waited. It was his lack of expression that allowed her to continue.

“Mama made me hide in a trunk, but I could see through a knot hole.” Her fingertips dug into her palms. “I tried not to look. They kept calling her ‘witch.’ Laughing that they were sending her back to the devil.” She met Bane’s gaze. “They hurt her. After they left I tried to help, but there was so much blood.” She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling, then took a deep breath, expelling it slowly. “We ran the next day. I guess we’ve been running ever since.”

A muscle in Bane’s jaw jumped, but there was compassion in his eyes. “What they did was wrong. Your father let this happen?”

“My father had another family by then. We were not his concern.” The truth still made her heart ache.

Bane came to her. She couldn’t help comparing his approach to what she would use with a wild animal. He was so careful, but she had no intention of fleeing.

Her hand wasn’t steady as she reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I’ve been searching for someone with your eyes.”

“Meaning?”

“Once I became a woman, every man I met had the same look as the men who came to our cottage that night. Everyone but you. Why is that?”

He reached up and placed his hand over hers, pressing her palm against his cheek. The start of a beard pricked her skin, but the warmth in his eyes made her wish they could stay that way forever.

“I don’t know. Mayhap, ‘tis because you confound me.” He smiled and released her hand. “I’ve not met anyone like you.”

She leaned back and tilted her head, pursing her lips. After meeting Lady Mackay, she suspected much had to do with the woman who’d borne him.
He values people for who they are.

All thought ended abruptly as his lips closed over hers. The kiss started as barely a brushing of his mouth against hers, but deepened when she moved into his embrace. Curiosity filled her and she stretched her fingertip against his chest like a kneading cat. The image of him, bare-chested, came to mind. Through his shirt, hard muscle rippled under her hands as she slid them upward to clasp the back of his neck.

He angled his mouth over hers, cradling the back of her head with one hand. His other hand came to rest on her lower back, urging her against the hard length of him. Excitement pounded through her. His possessive grasp should frighten her, but this was Bane. If she needed him to stop—he would.

It was inexplicable how she knew, but the knowledge freed her to open her mouth at his urging. He explored, darting his tongue over hers, his breathing erratic. A need she’d never felt before began to build, causing her to run her hands over his back in an almost frantic motion. She needed . . .

On a gasping breath, Bane stepped away from her, holding out a hand when she tried to move closer. “Lass, you’ve no idea what you’re doing.” His odd posture and rough voice gave the impression of pain. “I’ll not take advantage.”

She wished he’d make up his mind. If he didn’t want her kisses, then why had he kissed her in the first place? She’d never felt unwanted by anyone other than her father, and Bane’s rejection cut. “I’m sure other men would want my kisses.”

“Aye. But I don’t think you’d want to kiss them.”

Well of all the arrogant, insufferable . . . oooh. “Don’t fash yourself that I’ll try again. I only came looking for you this morning to tell you I can’t stay.”

“Why not?”

“When I accepted your invitation, I had no idea you’d invited the witch pricker.” Her tone carried all the distaste she felt for the man.

“And?” Bane’s brows drew together.

“My mother and I aren’t safe here. Our gifts . . . “ She crossed her arms. “You canna understand. Men like him find a way of getting what they want.”

“You’re on Mackay land. Nothing will harm you here.”

“Will it not?” She studied his firm mouth, still moist from their kiss. “I’m thinking that depends on what you consider harm.”

Kenzie plucked her bannock off the hearth-heated stone and placed it on her plate before it burned her fingers. The warmth of the fire was welcome after the day’s chill. If only she could stay here and not face the others in the great hall—Bane, in particular. But her mother, or Lady Mackay, were bound to come searching for her.

With a sigh, she left the cooking area and made her way toward the noisy gathering. Children played nearby, while men, and a few women, congregated around the rough wooden tables. As she passed the nearest bench, Maggie patted the open spot next to her and called her name.

Mayhap the redhead wasn’t the last person she wanted to see, but she was way down on the list. Still, it would do no good to antagonize the woman, so she tried to smile as she slid in next to her and set her food on the table.

Maggie’s rich warm voice didn’t match the cold of her eyes. “Did Laird Mackay find you in the stable?”

Heat rose to Kenzie’s face. “Aye.” Her gaze went to Bane, two tables over, who seemed to be entertaining his mother with a story.

“The laird said he had something urgent to discuss with you.”

“Did he?” She tore off a piece of bannock and chewed the oat bread. Why had he come looking for her? It couldn’t have been for kisses, because Bane had sent her away. Maggie faced her with brows raised. What to say? “‘Twas just to tell me I must attend to the men on the training field while I’m here.”

“And that will delight every man each morning.” McGowan slid onto the bench across from them. He looked very pleased with himself.

Kenzie lost what little appetite she’d had. She laid the rest of the bannock on the edge of her wooden platter. “Nay, not everyone.”

“Then they’re fools. Were you mine, I’d not parade you in front of other men.”