Highlander's Sword (22 page)

   Aila walked toward her mount on the bank of the loch. The sun had gone behind a cloud, and the water lost its appeal. She started to try to mount Shadow but was picked up from behind instead. Startled, she found herself in MacLaren's arms atop his horse.

   "What are ye doing?" she asked, shocked to be so close to him.

   "Taking ye back to Dundaff."

   "I can ride on my own."

   "O' that I am well aware," MacLaren said grimly, tying Shadow's reins to his saddle and beginning the long walk back to Dundaff. Aila sat across MacLaren's lap, his right hand holding the reins, his left holding her close to his body. She tried to wriggle away, not wanting to be held against a man who thought so poorly of her, but there was nowhere to go. The more she wiggled, the tighter he pressed her against his body, until she was smashed against his chest, sitting between his legs, her own legs draped over one of his muscular thighs. She blushed fiercely and gave up the struggle. It was going to be a long ride home.

   It did not take long for the silence between them to become unbearable to Aila. "I am sorry for riding off today. I dinna ken why I did it. I warrant I wanted one last ride before going to be yer wife."

   Aila felt MacLaren stiffen. "I may no' have the stable's o' yer father, but I assure ye I have a few horses yer ladyship may deem acceptable."

   "I dinna mean to suggest ye dinna have fine horses…" Aila stopped defending herself, as the impli cation of his words hit her. "Are ye saying ye'll let me ride when we go to Creag an Turic?"

   "Aye," said MacLaren suspiciously, "but no' alone and ne'er at night, unless I'm wi' ye."

   Aila threw her arms around him, surprising them both. "Thank ye. Thank ye so much. Ye dinna ken what this means to me. I thought when I was married I'd ne'er be able to ride again." Aila looked up at him with tears glistening in her eyes.

   "Well there…" MacLaren cleared his throat and shifted a bit before trying again. "There are several places ye might like to see on MacLaren land. The overlook on the Braes of Balquidder is a nice vantage."

   "Aye, 'tis lovely," she murmured.

   "Ye've been there?" His voice regained some of its gruffness.

   Aila swallowed. "Aye."

   MacLaren stopped his horse and glared at her. "Now I want ye to tell me what ye were doing on my land. The truth this time and all o' it. Neglecting to reveal the whole of a matter is as much a lie as telling a falsehood."

   Aila squirmed in his grasp and tried to look away, but he turned her face back toward him. Truth was, she had occasionally ridden to his land while he was gone but had visited there frequently since his return. She told herself she had wanted to see how he had rebuilt, but there were more personal reasons for her visits. The feelings she had felt for him as a child had never entirely left her. She had just denied them. But admitting to this man her girlish affection was not something she was prepared to do. Lying to her husband was not an unforgivable sin, was it? She would probably get some time in purgatory, but it might be worth it. Aila struggled with her conscience before resigning to her fate.

   "I went there to see ye."

   "Why? Who are ye working for?" MacLaren's voice was cold.

   "No one. I wanted to see yer progress in restoring yer lands. I felt bad for ye returning to so little after ye had been so good to my family."

   MacLaren shook his head in doubt. "Aila, I want the absolute truth. I will no' hurt ye, if ye tell me now. Are ye aligned wi' McNab or anyone else who is trying to help him?"

   "Nay," she said emphatically.

   "I wish I could believe that."

   Aila pointed toward the bloody mark on her neck. The small knife wound was beginning to scab. "Does it look to ye like I be wanting to return to McNab?"

   MacLaren grunted a reluctant concession to her argument. "So ye were spying on me because why, exactly?"

   "No' spying. I… I always liked ye, even as a young girl. When ye came back, I wanted to see ye… to be close to where ye were."

   "Are ye trying to say ye're sweet on me?"

   Aila winced. She'd rather do anything but admit to a man who held her in such disregard that she had been attracted to him and, despite it all, still was. But she had promised to be honest, and she would hold to it. She nodded with reluctance.

   MacLaren urged the horse forward, laughing sarcas tically. "Ye expect me to believe that? After ye ran away to the convent to have our marriage annulled and refused me my marital rights last night? Yer so full o' deceit ye canna even keep yer lies straight."

   Aila tried unsuccessfully to wriggle away from him again. Sitting on a man's lap on horseback left a lady very few options for a respectable retreat. Aila didn't know which was worse, admitting her childish romantic thoughts toward him or having them disbe lieved and mocked. "Ye asked me for the whole truth, and I told ye. If ye dinna believe me, then please forget I said it."

   Aila nursed her wounded pride and wondered about this man she had married. He had her emotions spinning round such that she didn't even know them herself. One moment she was desperately in love with him; the next she wanted nothing to do with him.

   
In love?

   Oh no, not that. Anything but that.

MACLAREN RODE SLOWLY THROUGH THE BRUSH AND glanced down at the unhappy lass in his arms. Aila looked miserable, and he felt rotten. Gone was the beautiful lass who had raced through the forest and smiled at him like some sort of wild nymph. He had taken that smile away, and only a knave would have done that. He struggled to know whether or not to trust her. Despite his inner conflict, his words always came out harsh. It didn't seem likely she liked him, yet how could he know her feelings? Women baffled him in general, and this one was a complete mystery. He had been easily deceived by a beautiful woman before, and now he didn't trust his own judgment.

   MacLaren sighed. He had bigger problems to deal with than discerning the emotions of this strange creature who happened to be his wife. Returning to Dundaff meant returning to the home not only of Graham, but a traitor, as well. Someone was after Aila and was ready to kill to get her. MacLaren shuddered at what would have happened had he not returned to camp in time to warn his men. They would have been slaughtered while they slept.

   McNab had declared himself MacLaren's enemy and would need to be dealt with. MacLaren's own life, the lives of his men, and quite possibly Aila's, hung in the balance. He needed to think clearly and not be distracted by personal concerns. Rory was right. As long as Aila was not working for his enemy, this squabble was a domestic matter, one that could be handled later or, better yet, never.

   "Aila, we will be returning to Dundaff soon, along wi' someone who wishes me and my men dead. I ask them to fight for yer clansmen to protect yer fields and to protect ye. But I canna fight both McNab and ye. 'Tis no' fair to me nor my men. If ye dinna wish to be married to me, tell me now."

   If MacLaren expected a quick response, it was not what he got. They rode on in silence, Aila frowning as if in deep thought. It was as he expected; she wished to end this sham of a marriage. Her response, when it came, caught him off guard.

   "Who hurt ye?" she asked softly.

   "I am uninjured," responded MacLaren, a bit confused.

   "Nay. Ye said ye woud'na be manipulated again. Who hurt ye?"

   MacLaren turned cold, as if he had been plunged in ice water. This was not something he wished to discuss. Ever. He cursed himself—his own words had betrayed him. "'Tis none o' yer concern."

   "If ye are comparing me to another, then it is. Ye've asked for my honesty, and I have given it. Now I ask for yers." Aila looked at him expectantly. Her eyes were two pools of water, brimming with anxiety.

   MacLaren rode in silence, looking beyond her at the road. He never wanted to think of Marguerite. He never wanted to speak of her. He never wanted to be reminded of his greatest mistake, the one that had ripped his soul and killed his cousin. Yet, he had brought this on himself. Aila was too clever not to notice. He groaned inwardly. Best to make a quick confession and move on.

   "I was betrothed when I was in France." MacLaren spoke without emotion, continuing to look at the road ahead. "She was verra beautiful, and she led me to believe her feelings of affection were similar to mine own. It was a lie. She used me to defend her land to gain better terms in submitting to the English crown. I wager my defense gave her quite a bit more coin. Afterwards, she had no more use for me, so I returned to my clan."

   "'Tis horrible anyone could be so deceitful."

   "Nay, dinna be too harsh on her." MacLaren could not keep the chill from his voice. "Like most females, she thought only to her own comfort. Words to her were just words, easily spoken, easily broken. Making love to me was part of the price she paid to get what she really wanted—gold."

   "Ye ken all women to be like her?"

   "Nothing in my experience o' this world has proved different."

   Now it was Aila's turn to be quiet. MacLaren rode along, waiting for her answer. In the silence, he recognized his words again as harsh, but what else could he say? She had asked for the truth, and he had given it to her.

   "I do wish to be married to ye," Aila said slowly, seeming to weigh every word. "I value yer alliance with my family and yer defense of our clan. But I would ask ye one thing."

   "Ye've asked for much already, lass."

   "Aye," said Aila, sitting straighter and looking him in the eye. "And I ask for this, too. I ask for ye to judge me by my own words and deeds, no' by those o' another."

   MacLaren looked down at Aila. He had always believed in judging a man by his actions not by his family. He nodded. It was a fair request. "Aye, I will try to do so. If we have made peace, I propose a truce between us. At least until the danger has passed."

   Aila nodded.

   "It is clear McNab means to take ye by any mode possible," said MacLaren, getting back to their imme diate situation. "I can easily see why he would want to claim yer inheritance, and it is also equally clear he has been given help from someone inside Dundaff. From what ye said, yer maid admitted to working for McNab and being afraid of someone at Dundaff. Considering the way she died, I expect the traitor is among those who accompanied us. Do ye ken anyone in the party ye might suspect as a traitor? Any disagreements between any of these men and yerself or yer father?

   "Nay, none that I ken. But I would like to tell ye about the stable master. It happened in the early morn after my ride on St. John's Eve. I returned to the stables to find Fergus, our stable master, lying on the floor, his head bloodied." MacLaren felt Aila shiver and held her closer. "There was an iron bar next him, blood on one end. I heard someone coming toward me, and I almost called for help, but it felt wrong. I've been riding that early for many years, and I never have seen anyone in the stables at that time besides Fergus. So I ran back up to my tower. The man ran after me up the stairs, it was… I was verra much afraid."

   "Did ye ken who it was?"

   "Nay."

   "Did he see who ye were?"

   "Nay, well, I'm no' sure. I was wearing my riding clothes at the time."

   MacLaren nodded. "I'm glad for that. I heard about the stable master when I returned, but I was told it was an accident."

   "Aye, I heard that, too. My maid said he fell from a chair and hit his head, but there was no chair that I saw."

   "So, 'tis possible someone tried to kill him and make it look like an accident. Who have ye told about this?"

   "None but ye and Sister Enid. It was one of the reasons I was returning to Dundaff, to tell Father o' what I saw."

   MacLaren rode in silence, thinking on this new bit of information. "Every time ye open yer mouth, I hear something unexpected. Do ye have any more surprises for me?"

   "Nay, och, well, I should tell ye about the message."

   "The message?"

   Aila told him about the missive that had been sent by someone impersonating Sister Enid.

   MacLaren considered her words. Her actions were starting to make a bit more sense. Someone was indeed playing with her loyalties. "So someone wanted ye to join the convent or at least leave the safety of Dundaff. Was it on the road from St. Margaret's that McNab seized ye?"

   "Aye."

   "Maybe McNab was afeared ye would marry another and forged the letter to get ye to leave the castle so he could capture ye."

   Aila thought a moment. "Aye, 'twould be possible, I suppose."

   "Any other confessions for me?"

   "Nay," said Aila, frowning. "Well, there is another secret, but it belongs to my mother no' me."

   "What is it?"

   "'Tis no' important."

   "I'll be the judge o' that."

   Aila sighed. She had never told anyone about her mother before. "My mother's hands and feet are diseased, like Sister Enid's, ye ken? She wants no one to know. That's why she refuses to leave her tower. I have to feed her every day, because she canna do for herself."