Keeper of my Heart (17 page)

In the evening when the work was done, she would sit at Iain’s side and listen while the older warriors told tales of MacAlister glory. She listened with pride as they told of Iain’s victories and his father’s before him. Nowhere was the love and respect the MacAlisters had for their laird more evident than here.

When the hour turned late and the candles burned low, she climbed the stairs to wait for Iain to join her. Such was there routine. Each day turned more wondrous than the day before and each night more perfect. She thought of the night she’d spent making love and her cheeks blazed scarlet. Her skin turned hot just remembering the magic of Iain’s hands caressing her body and the fire of his naked flesh pressed against her.

She sighed. For the first time ever she was accepted without reservation and included as if she had always been one of them. She never dreamed life could be like this.

Without a care, she stepped through the arched opening at the top of the stairs leading to the great hall and stopped. Iain had just handed down a decision concerning a dispute between two MacAlisters, and from the look on the one man’s face when he stormed past her, he was not pleased.

“What is happening, Donald?” Iain asked when the two men had left the room. “This is the third dispute amongst our warriors in less than a week. And last week there were four. It’s as if there is a plan to intentionally cause dissension among us.”

Donald stepped away from the wall and uncrossed his arms from over his chest. “I have noticed the same.”

“Do you know who is behind the unrest?”

Donald shook his head. “Not that I can say with any certainty.”

“I don’t like it.” Iain braced his hand against the stones next to the long window that overlooked the practice area. “It’s easy to know what to do when your attackers come at you from the outside. There are thick stone walls and high buffeting fortresses to protect you from danger. It’s not so easy when the attackers come from within. Both your back and front are exposed to them and you are na sure which side they will attack first.”

Donald stepped forward. “I will keep a close watch. When I am sure, I will say so.”

Iain shook his head, his shoulders rigid with the weight of the trouble he could not understand. “The ground does na feel so secure beneath my feet, Donald. I fear a skirmish with the Cochrans is not the only trouble facing us.”

“I pray you are wrong,” Donald said wiping his hand across his bearded face. “The Cochrans could na do near the devastation as our own can do from within.”

“Perhaps Roderick will have news when he returns,” Iain said. “I am confident his efforts will na go for naught.”

With a curt nod, Donald left the hall, nodding as he passed her.

Iain stood with his back to her and when she stepped on the rushes to go to him, he turned. A warm smile slowly spread across his face and the look in his eyes was the same familiar gleam he’d had often of late. She loved that look.

“Does milady have a problem she needs to bring to her laird?”

She made her way across the long hall and stepped up on the dais next to him. “Aye, milord. A most grievous problem indeed. I have heard the MacAlister laird is the wisest man in all of Scotland, so I have come to seek his sage council and advice.”

Iain did not even try to hide the playful grin from his face as he sat down in his chair, striking the most regal pose possible. “Such a flattering compliment. What is your concern, milady?”

“It is my husband.”

He lifted his thick brows to a high arch. “You have a problem with your husband?”

Màiri frowned. “Oh, aye, milord. A most serious problem. He has caused me much distress of late and each day his inconsideration worsens.”

“How so, milady?”

“I have come to enjoy his company far too much of late and I miss him sorely each time he leaves me. It is most unkind of him to cause me such grief. Don’t you agree?”

His deep laughter echoed in her ears as he reached forward to grasp one of her hands. “Most unkind, milady.” He pulled her toward him. “As your laird, I feel duty bound to do all in my power to ease your distress.”

In one swift movement, he pulled her onto his lap and clamped his arms around her. She barely had time to take a breath before he covered her mouth with his own. He kissed her hard, then kissed her again. When he skimmed her lips with his tongue, she clamped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to admit him.

His kisses stole the breath from her while his hands roamed over her flesh, touching her and holding her and caressing her until her whole body burned as if she was on fire. She arched forward, pressing into the hand cupping her breast. A loud moan escaped from the back of her throat and she threaded her fingers through his hair and held him close.

“How touching,” a low voice rumbled from across the room. “It’s comforting to know my laird and his bride are so well suited to each other.”

She jumped with a start, and Iain lifted his mouth from her, but he held her tight when she tried to bolt from his arms. She wanted to die of embarrassment, but Iain looked at his brother and laughed.

“You could have given us a few more uninterrupted moments before barging in, Roderick,” Iain said, exposing the grin that wouldn’t leave his face.

“From the looks of it, laird, a few more moments and it is hard to say how much longer I would have had to give you. I did na want to wait that long. You forget, I have been gone what seems forever and am anxious to wash the dirt from my skin and sleep on something softer than hard Scottish soil.”

Màiri hastily straightened her clothing then pushed herself away from Iain’s muscled chest. She had every intent of fleeing to her chambers to escape Roderick’s evaluative look, but Iain whispered softly in her ear that he wished her to stay. With a reluctant nod, she rose from his lap and sat in the chair beside him.

Roderick made his way across the rushes to stand before Iain. Màiri focused her gaze on him. He portrayed a striking figure, proud and determined, his superiority and confidence spewing forth in abundance. He emitted the same powerful loftiness she found in Iain, but in her husband, it showed itself as noble strength and unerring courage. In Roderick, the effect lacked compassion.

“Welcome home, brother,” Iain said, sitting forward in his chair. “What did you learn?”

Roderick shook his head. “Nothing I fear you will want to hear.”

She knew whatever news Roderick had to share with his brother, it would not be welcome. The muscles on Iain’s forearms bunched as he tightened his grasp on the arms of his chair and waited for Roderick to relate his findings.

“Two cottages were burned and a field of oats in retaliation of the Cochran’s attack against us,” Roderick said.

Iain held his silence for a long time. “Did any of the Cochrans lose their lives in the fire?” he asked finally.

“Nay. All escaped unharmed.”

Iain rose from his chair and stood beside the long window in the hall that looked out over the practice area where many MacAlister warriors still trained. “Is there more?” he asked.

Màiri held her breath. She’d gone all this time without letting her gift intrude even once, but the moment Roderick interrupted, the warnings came to the forefront with blaring clarity.

“The Cochrans whose cottages burned swear they were attacked by MacAlisters.”

Iain closed his eyes as if to block out the possibility. “Could they have been?”

Roderick’s stunned expression seemed sincere. “God’s teeth, Iain. The MacAlisters who follow you are as intent on having peace as you.”

Iain spun around, the look in his eyes lethal. “If a MacAlister was na responsible for what happened, then who was?”

Roderick stepped forward and braced his hands against the top of the trestle table that separated the two of them. “Perhaps the Cochrans themselves.”

A lie.

Iain stared at his brother in disbelief. “For what reason? What purpose would be served by burning their own homes and crops?”

“To blame us. Canna you see, Iain? Perhaps the Cochrans do na want peace. Perhaps you are the only one who does.”

A lie.

“Nay! Angus Cochran wants peace, too. Scotland is changing, Roderick. Our king is leading the way toward peace, not only between the clans in Scotland, but with England as well.”

Roderick threw back his head and laughed. The sound of his laughter rang false to her ears.

“All that concerns our James is continuing his father’s love for art and music and poetry. He is mistakenly devoted to everything but the ways to strengthen and protect Scotland from the English.”

“He has done much to make a place for Scotland,” Iain argued.

“How? By ignoring the attacks of the English at our borders? By letting Henry and his army thwart him at every turn?”

“James wants peace, Roderick. He is na hungry for war like some of the Highlanders. Our king has joined the rest of us who are tired of the killing.”

“I want peace as badly as you, Iain,” Roderick bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls in the hall. “But mayhaps the Highland lairds are right. Mayhaps embracing peace so wholeheartedly will weaken us. Will make us so soft with the notions of living in harmony that we choose to ignore the dangers that are encroaching from all sides.”

“And you think I have become so soft?” Iain asked.

Couldn’t Iain hear the contradiction in his brother’s words?

A cold void of strained silence followed the heat in their exchange. She waited, but for an interminable length of time neither spoke. Roderick was the first to bridge the chasm that separated them.

“I am your brother, Iain. I have sworn fealty to you and to our clan. There are na bounds to what I would do to protect you or our people. Even if it means speaking words you do na want to hear. I am only pointing out the dangers that are there. I would not serve you well if I did not.”

Iain released a harsh sigh as if a heavier weight had been placed on his shoulders than before. The look on his face reflected his apprehension.

Could he not hear the falseness in Roderick’s words?

“I do na like fighting any more than you, Iain, but if we want to hold on to what is ours, we will have to fight the Cochrans eventually. It is our land they are after. James has taken advantage of the long years of internal strife in England to expand Scottish trade. Our land, combined with what the Cochran’s control, include all the major trade routes south into England.”

Iain shook his head. When he spoke, his voice lacked the rancor it had earlier. “I see only the opportunity this affords to elevate Scotland to an indomitable position in commerce and trade. I see a wealth of possibilities open to the MacAlisters to be leaders in making Scotland a better, more prosperous land.”

“And you think the Cochrans are willing to share this opportunity on equal footing with us?”

Iain raked his fingers through his hair. “Aye. I have na reason to believe otherwise.”

Roderick stood staunchly in front of Iain, his interminable silence an unreadable affront. “Let us pray you are right,” he said finally.

“But you do na think I am?”

“I think you are so desperate for peace you do na see all the dangers.”

“Mayhaps it is because I am sick to death of burying our young MacAlister warriors cut down in their prime for na real reason. I’m tired of facing the mothers and fathers and wives and children of those who have died, and promising I will na rest until their loved ones’ murders are avenged, like I did to the families of the four lads who went with me onto MacBride land.”

Roderick walked over to the hearth where a lively fire blazed to take the chill from the hall. He lifted a long stick from the stones beside the fire and shoved at the glowing logs, causing a barrage of sparks to explode in the grate. The blazing embers died as quickly as they hit the ground and all that was left after his attack was the peaceful crackling of the confined fire. When Roderick turned around, Màiri noticed a strange softness to his features that did not match the look in his eyes.

“I want peace as badly as you, Iain…”

Lies.

“…and I will do everything in my power to strengthen the MacAlisters so we will be equal to the challenge of leading Scotland. If peace is your goal, then peace we shall achieve. I will na rest until I find out who was responsible for the attacks on the Cochrans. I will na let the MacAlisters be blamed for something they did na do.”

Iain clasped Roderick on the shoulder. The show of friendship and loyalty was unmistakable.

Màiri pushed the truth her gift told her to the back of her mind. She did not want to face what it told her. How could she ever convince anyone to believe her if she spoke its warnings out loud?

“Peace will be best for the MacAlisters,” Iain said with confidence. “And for Scotland.”

Roderick nodded. “You know you can rely on me to help you gain the peace you are after. Perhaps this trouble with the Cochrans is nothing more than some minor unrest on our borders.”

“I pray you are right,” Iain answered.

“Let me rest a while and I will go out again to try to heal the rift these attacks have caused.”