MacDougall 01 - Laiden's Daughter (26 page)

Holding onto the reins of his mount he let out a slow breath.
 
He would surely lose his mind before he got his feelings for her sorted out.

“How do yer lessons go, lass? Are ya likin’ them?” he asked as they walked through the tall summer grasses.
Think pure thoughts. Think pure thoughts.
He repeated over and over in his mind.

She told him yes, she was enjoying them, though she was struggling with the Latin.
 
He told her the same thing that Isobel had; once she mastered the Latin, the other languages would be much easier to learn.

They walked at a leisurely pace while they talked about everything and nothing in particular, merely enjoying one another’s company.
 
The sun had peaked and begun its late day descent and the gentle breeze had begun to lie down.

“Have I told ya lass that Angus sent musicians with the messenger?” he said as he looked to her from the corner of his eye.

“Nay, I had not heard of it.”

“There’ll be a grand feast this night and a dance after,” he told her. He noticed that her gold hair held a slight tint of red to it when the sun shone on it in just the right manner.
 

“That sounds like much fun,” she said before taking in a deep breath of fresh air.
 

“Perhaps Isobel will allow ya to sit with me this night?”

She would very much like to sit with him again at the evening meals.
 
While she appreciated all that Isobel was doing for her, with teaching her to read and write and to be a refined and dignified lady, she truly missed spending time with Duncan and his men.
 
She hoped Isobel’s good mood and generosity would continue through the rest of the day and that she’d allow them to spend time together later. “Perhaps.”

“And mayhap,” he began, “ye’ll save a dance fer me?”

“Dance?” she asked.
 
She had never danced before.
 
There had been little time or opportunity in her life before coming to Castle Gregor for such things.

“Aye, a dance,” he said smiling as he enjoyed the thought of being able to hold her close with no one to question why.
 
He studied her for moment, noticing that her face had grown red.
 
“Would ya no’ like to dance with me?” he asked.

She would love to do more than dance with him she thought to herself.
 
Had she the courage to say what was really upon her mind she felt certain he would rescind his offer.
 
“Nay, I would enjoy it very much.”

Duncan could sense the apprehension in her voice. “Is there a problem with it, Aishlinn?”

She took a deep breath before answering.
 
“I do not know how to dance.” She did not like having to admit it.

Duncan stopped and turned to her with a warm smile and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Tis quite easy, once ya get the gist of it,” he told her as he dropped the reins to his horse and took her hands in his.
 
Her eyes flew open wide as he placed her hand upon his shoulder and his own on her hip.
 
Her stomach tightened and her heart began to pound in her chest.
 
She cursed the feelings wishing them to go away and never return for it was heartbreaking to know nothing could ever come of it.

“It be all in feelin’ the rhythm of the music.
 
The music be fast, yer feet will move fast,” he said.
 
“Now, pay close attention.” With a smile and a wink he began counting one, two, three, one, two three.

Soon, they were dancing in the tall grass without the aid of music to guide them.
 
Aishlinn stepped upon his feet a few times, apologizing nervously after each mistake.
 
Duncan was quite patient with her and encouraged her to not worry of it.
 
She could have stepped upon his feet a hundred times and it would have mattered naught to him.

Sweet laughter came from Aishlinn as she lost herself in the moment with Duncan.
 
It didn’t matter there was no music for it simply felt glorious to have his hand in hers, his hand upon her hip as he twirled her about the tall grass.
 
She could not remember a time in her life when she felt this gloriously happy. It mattered not that he could not return the feelings she had for him.
 
For the length of that one dance she allowed herself to pretend that he could.

Suddenly Duncan came to a complete stop.
 
Aishlinn’s smile slowly faded away to a questioning expression.
 

Duncan had that peculiar look to him again and for the life of her she could not figure out what it meant.
 
There was something to his smile, to the way his eyes looked that disquieted her.
 
As she studied his face she felt her stomach begin to bounce around again.
 
Taking a deep, slow breath in, she tried to quiet her stomach. It didn’t work, for her stomach still twisted and her fingers trembled.

Would it be so wrong to kiss her now, to tell her how I feel?
 
A fierce battle between right and wrong was taking place in his heart.
 
This was the woman he felt certain he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
 
What could be the harm in simply telling her that?
 
The fear that flashed in her eyes told him why he couldn’t.

How much time would the lass need before she felt safe with him, he wondered.
 
His strong sense of honor told him the lass needed more than two months to get over a lifetime of cruelty and one night of sheer terror.
 
Perhaps if he told her how he felt, and that he was willing to wait as long as she needed, that knowledge might help speed up the process of healing her heart.

As he battled with his conscience, he caught sight of a movement out of the corner of his eye.
 
He heard the sound of beating hoofs pounding nearby. He turned his head and reflexively reached for the dagger at his side. He heard Aishlinn gasp when she turned to see what he was looking at.
 
The terror on her face matched what he was feeling in his stomach.

Riders approached and there were many.
 
Far too many for him to battle alone.
 

******

Duncan’s heart momentarily seized with dread at the sight of so many riders.
 
He cursed himself for bringing Aishlinn so far from the keep. The only weapons he had were his dirk and his sword. Too far from the castle for his war cries to be heard, his only choice was to mount quickly and fly back to Gregor.
 
As soon as he got close enough, he could let loose with a warning cry and signal to his men to ready for battle.
 
He could only pray that he made it to the keep in time to warn his men and that he could keep Aishlinn safe until they were safely behind the castle walls.

As he was about to throw Aishlinn up on the saddle, he took one last look back at the approaching party.
 
The moment he saw the green and red colors of Clan McDunnah waving in the wind, a great sense of relief washed over him.
 
His shoulders sagged and he put his hands on his knees, breathing in deeply.
 
For a moment, he had been certain it was a hundred English soldiers coming for Aishlinn.

Aishlinn put her hand on Duncan’s back as he was stooped over, catching his breath.
 

“Duncan!” her voice was filled with fear. “We must ride back to the castle straight away!”
 
She was certain he was ready to faint, probably from the same fear she felt at seeing so many men and horses coming their way.
 
And for a brief moment, she worried that her brave warrior wasn’t as brave as she had originally thought.

“Nay, lass,” he told her as he straightened himself and tried to catch his breath.
 
“That be the Clan McDunnah!”
 
He gave her hand a squeeze.
 
“Aric told us they’d be comin’.”

Though she was quite relieved to know it was a friendly party approaching, she imagined it would take a sinnight to get her heart to quit pounding so fiercely.
 

Duncan quickly mounted his steed and bent down to take Aishlinn’s hand.
 
He pulled her up into his lap and headed out to greet the Clan McDunnah.

******

The Clan McDunnah was smaller by half, than the Clan MacDougall, but that did not mean they weren’t a fierce lot of men and women.
 
They had fought alongside the MacDougalls in many a battle against the English as well as other clans with which they both feuded.
 
They were as loyal to King David as the MacDougalls were and like the MacDougalls they were fiercely loyal to Scotland.

Duncan yelled out a Gaelic greeting to the McDunnahs as he and Aishlinn rode towards the band of mounted men.
 
Caelen, Aric and three other McDunnahs broke away from the pack and met Duncan and Aishlinn.

“
Tapadh leat!”
Caelen greeted them with a smile as he grasped Duncan’s forearm with his own.
 
He did not look at Duncan, but instead focused on Aishlinn.
 
“What a bonny young lass!” he said in Gaelic.
 

Uneasiness washed over Aishlinn.
 
She understood most of what he said, the rest she was able pick up on from his expressive eyes.
 
He was a fierce looking man, with long black hair and very dark brown eyes, and appeared to be around thirty years old.
 
Braids framed his temples and a long scar ran down from his forehead, trailed along the left side of his face and down his neck before it disappeared under his tunic.
 
Thick, well-muscled bare legs were tucked into leather boots.
 
He had dirks tucked into each of his boots, two more, along with a sword, hung at his waist, and a broadsword was strapped to his back.
 
Lord only knew how many more weapons the man had hidden on his person.

“She speaks only the English,” Aric offered to Caelen.
 
The McDunnah raised an eyebrow as a roguish smile formed on his lips. “What a pity,” The McDunnah said in the Gaelic.
 

Aishlinn understood that as well and made no attempt at correcting Aric.
 
She’d let them think she was completely ignorant for now.
 
The longer he stared at her, the more uncomfortable she became.
 
She felt Duncan’s arms tighten around her as he pulled her in closer. She cast a glance up at him. His jaws were clenched and his smile had quickly disappeared.

“Tis good to see ya healed nicely, lass!” Aric said, apparently oblivious to the angry glares being cast between Duncan and the McDunnah.
 

“Tis good to see you, Aric.” Aishlinn smiled at him.
 
“Are Rebecca and the children with you?”

“Nay, they’re no’,” he told her. “I’m afraid ’tisn’t a social call that brings us here this day, lass.”
  

Aishlinn was disappointed.
 
She hoped that she would see Rebecca and the children again.
 
“Are they well?” she asked.

“Aye, they are, lass.” Aric finally took note of Caelen and Duncan staring each other down.
 
“Duncan,” Aric began.
 
“Ya wouldn’t have a wee nip of the chief’s whiskey with ya, would ya lad?”
 

Duncan finally broke his eyes away from Caelen.
 
“Nay. No’ on me.
 
But we’ve plenty back at Gregor.”
 
He spoke in English out of respect for Aishlinn.
 

He smiled at his friend and turned his horse around.
 
“Angus is still in the far north,” he told Aric as the group headed back towards Gregor.
 
“We’ve just received word that he’ll be delayed a bit.”