Tempting the Highlander (29 page)

He gazed down and his arm stole protectively around her. Need tore through him, ripping away all of his carefully constructed defenses. Raelynd had become the fire in his blood; she was now as necessary to life as the air he breathed. Which made the agony of knowing she could never be more to him than she was at this moment all the more painful.

Crevan lightly kissed her and in that small touch Raelynd knew something was wrong. Once again, he was withdrawing from her. “Don’t,” she ordered in hushed tones against his chest. “Don’t you dare tell me to leave, that you don’t love me and that this meant nothing. You’ve never lied to me. Do not start now.”

Crevan’s arm squeezed her as his free hand raked his hair. “I won’t.”

Raelynd lifted herself onto her elbows and looked down at him. “I love you.”

Crevan tucked back the thick strands of her hair behind her ear before tenderly caressing her cheek. “And I love you. I didn’t know it was possible to love someone this much.”

Raelynd swallowed and closed her eyes. Crevan had just uttered the very words she had longed to hear and yet something was wrong. “But . . .” she added for him.

“But there are things you do not know. Things that cannot be changed by what we shared or admitted tonight.”

Then the reasons she had snuck out to see him came rushing back to the surface of her thoughts. “Craig spoke with Meriel. What he said, what he asked didn’t make sense.”

Crevan’s brow wrinkled. “Craig came to you?”

“No, he saw Meriel. He wants me to handfast with him and my sister with you.”

Crevan lay completely still with the only exception of his hand absentmindedly stroking her arm. He had not considered handfasting. It was not permanent like marriage, but Craig’s idea had merit as for at least one year both women would be protected.

“Tell me,” Raelynd pleaded.

“I promised that if ever you needed to know I would no longer keep the truth to myself. Everything you suspected was correct. There was another reason behind your father sending you away and it was tied to why your departure had to be under the umbrella of impending marriage and not visiting neighbors.”

Feeling the need to hear this without distraction, Raelynd sat up. The breeze was light but without Crevan’s warmth, it chilled her skin and she reached for her chemise and quickly pulled the item over her head.

Crevan knew why she was taking such action but the thin material did very little to hide her form as the firelight lit her up from behind.

“What was the reason?” she asked.

Startled, Crevan realized it was the third time she had asked the question. He grabbed his leine and yanked the shirt on, needing any type of barrier to prevent him from ignoring her request and taking her again. “Your cousin Cyric.”

“Cyric?” Raelynd echoed, clearly unable to place the name.

“Your uncle’s only son, who until nearly a month ago lived in the Lowlands. He is now with your father, who is discerning whether or not he is a fit leader for the Schellden clan and a potential husband for either you or Meriel.”

Raelynd’s jaw dropped. She shook her head with increasing vehemence. “No,” she murmured. “My father would never do that. He would never make us marry. . . .”

“He might not, but the king would and there is not many a man who would defy King Robert, especially as your father happens to agree with him.”

“But . . . but . . . you . . . I want you . . .”

“Craig is right. The solution is for you and he to handfast and I with Meriel.”

Raelynd lifted her hand to stop Crevan from continuing. “Why is
that
the solution? Why can we not continue as we are for another month until my cousin leaves? Then we can do as we please.”

“If Cyric learns you are not married, he will come demanding his rights. Especially now.”

“What do you mean? Why now? Why not before?” Raelynd demanded.

“Because your father was trying to prove him to be unfit to lead a clan the size of his. Rumors arrived this morning that the outsider who at one time was ridiculed is now being reconsidered by all those in the castle, as well as the soldiers in the field.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that if Cyric wins over the people, which it sounds like he is close to doing, he will be positioned to be the next Schellden chieftain.”

Raelynd’s shoulders sank. “And my father expects me to wed the chieftain. But why Meriel then? Why do you have to handfast with Meriel and not me?”

“If you were not available, who would Cyric choose to solidify his rights to the title?”

Raelynd’s mouth slackened. “Oh.” He would choose her sister and then she would be in jeopardy of becoming mistress of Caireoch.

“If Meriel was willing to take on your responsibilities, then handfasting with Craig would be a possi—”

Raelynd waved a hand. “It is not. She made me swear to do whatever is possible to keep her from such a fate.” Silence filled the small area as Crevan gave her the time to digest what she had learned. “I understand that if Craig and I handfast, he would be positioned to be laird. I would retain my position as Lady of Caireoch and Meriel would be protected, but what about you? You gain nothing from this plan. Why would you agree to something you do not want?”

Crevan leaned forward and held her chin gently in his hand so that she could not look away. “For you. To ensure your happiness or the closest thing to it. You are destined to be Lady of Caireoch and my brother desires the title of laird. I will not take that dream away from him nor deprive you of what you do so well. Could you be happy if your sister is miserable? Could I if Craig was?”

Raelynd began to breathe heavily as full comprehension of her potential future became clear. Then fear took over. “Is it for certain then? Do we have no choice? Is Cyric truly a threat as was told to you?”

“I do not know,” Crevan replied, pulling her into his arms, regretting that they were in such an unwinnable situation. “But I will find out.”

Raelynd held on to him. “Maybe you heard wrong. Maybe Father found my cousin incapable of leading anyone and forced him to return to his home.”

Crevan held her and said nothing. For even if Cyric did leave, he knew he could not seize the title his brother had craved for so many years.

Chapter 18

Crevan watched as Craig urged his horse ahead, quickening their already fast pace. The sky had turned cloudy once more and the way was poorly lit, forcing their already tired mounts to work even harder. Soon they would have to stop for the night.

After Raelynd and Crevan had left the loch to tell Meriel about Cyric, the three of them found Craig to discuss the situation. Coming to no other solutions, both men left just before dawn for Schellden lands to determine if the rumors about Cyric were true. Raelynd and Meriel had never met their cousin and the few stories they had heard were not flattering. Regardless, both women were vehemently against the idea of being coerced into a lifetime commitment with someone they did not know, let alone love.

That left the options of marriage or handfasting.

Crevan knew that if Craig agreed to handfast with either of the Schellden twins, Rae would put his brother in the role of becoming the next Schellden laird. So did Craig. And while he loathed the idea, he absolutely refused to force Crevan, quiet and reserved, who refrained from speaking unless necessary, into such a role. He also could not leave Meriel vulnerable to Cyric if at all possible, despite his vow against relationships that lasted any enduring amount of time. So when Raelynd again suggested her sister handfast with him, Craig rejected the possibility before Meriel could.

Meriel had her own reasons for refusing to handfast with her friend. First, her father would expect her to assume at least part of the role as Lady of the Castle and the prospect of doing even some of Raelynd’s responsibilities for a year filled Meriel with abject horror. But that paled to knowing that by being with Crevan, Raelynd would be tied to someone with whom she fought so often. The only possible,
survival,
arrangement for all four of them was the one Craig had proposed earlier. He would handfast with Raelynd and she would agree to do the same with Crevan.

Hearing Meriel talk before setting out on the journey, Crevan had inwardly cringed. He liked her, she was nice, but a future with her as his wife, even in name only for a year, was not one he was ready to accept. “Before we decide anything, Craig and I will ride out to your father’s and confirm the rumors, one way or another.”

With a look of relief, Craig had quickly agreed. “We will leave immediately and return with news.”

“And if what you learn is bad?” Meriel had prompted.

“Then we will do what we have to,” Raelynd had answered simply while staring unflinchingly into Crevan’s dark gaze. “We are strong and a year is not that long.”

Crevan knew that she was wrong. It would feel like an eternity. As he rode he considered all the possibilities and not a one that resulted in her with someone else was palatable for any length of time.

He knew Craig was thinking about the possibility of handfasting with Raelynd. His silence proved that. Normally one to fill the air with conversation, his brother had been unusually silent throughout the morning, lunch, and afternoon. Craig was only quiet for that long when in deep thought. It made Crevan wonder what he thought about. Was his brother eager to be positioned to become the next Schellden laird? He and Raelynd were cordial, even amicable, but Crevan knew that his brother did not love her. Did that weigh on Craig’s mind at all? Was he still attracted to Raelynd? He had been just a few weeks ago when this whole nightmare started.

The thoughts and questions kept racing through Crevan’s mind, tumbling out of control. It was unlike him, but he was not able to summon his normal emotional detachment to problem solving. “Are you sure?” he asked Craig without warning.

The cryptic question normally would have needed clarification, but as there was only one topic on either of their minds, explanation was not required. “Aye,” Craig answered.

“Becoming Schellden laird . . . is that w-what you w-want?” Crevan pressed.

Craig held his breath. He did not want to lie, but he refused to shift the weight of that responsibility to his brother. Furthermore, the expectation of his family to seize such an opportunity was enormous. To turn down the chance of becoming a laird—a privilege a fourth son was unlikely to ever have—would disappoint everyone. And to Craig, failure in the eyes of his brothers was a much heavier burden to carry. “It would be a great honor to lead such a powerful and well-respected clan,” he finally answered, hoping the half answer was enough to satisfy his brother.

Crevan said nothing and kept moving. “Stop up ahead?”

Craig nodded, knowing the clearing to which Crevan was referring. It was one they used often when journeying between the two clan headquarters. “The horses can drink their fill and I know I need some sleep,” Craig said somberly, hinting that his normal jubilant thoughts had been replaced with darker ones.

A flash of silver was all the warning they received before a heavy blade was being swung in their direction. Another quickly joined it and instinct took over as the brothers unsheathed their broadswords to deflect the unexpected attack.

“Halt!” came a piercing bark. “It’s the McTiernays.”

Crevan waited for the opposing blades to be resheathed before he slowly lowered his weapon. Only then did his eyes adjust enough to see that the attacker was one of Rae Schellden’s guards. “Callum, I didn’t know someone w-w-was on guard in this area.”

“There’s been a lot of company lately,” the Highlander grunted, and gestured to his three companions to continue their watch duty. “The laird aware you are coming?”

“It was not a planned visit,” Craig answered indirectly, sheathing his own sword. He was just about to dismount when Callum stopped him.

“I suggest riding on ahead for another half hour or so and making your camp down the river. There has been some animal activity here lately and it is not safe.”

Crevan studied the man to see if he was earnest. This clearing had strong currents and the rocky shoreline kept it from becoming a favorite among larger, predatory animals. Still, Callum’s desire for them to keep going was sincere.

“So what brings you both back so soon and without brides?” Callum asked, posing the one question Crevan hoped to avoid.

“Personal reasons,” Craig muttered for both of them.

Callum chuckled. “Let me guess. You want to know about our visiting Lowlander.”

The slight insult gave Crevan hope and he joined his brother on the ground, freeing his horse so it could wander to the water for a drink. “Aye.”

“And just what is your opinion of Schellden’s nephew?” Craig pushed.

Callum sighed and Crevan wished he could discern details of the guard’s other body movements, but the moonlight was too dim. “The man is a Lowlander and knows nothing of our customs and ways.”

Hope again began to rise within Crevan.

“But I will admit to being surprised by his skills with a blade,” Callum added. “And he did prevent our clans from going into battle with the McHenrys north of us.”

Crevan raised a brow, for the man he had briefly met did not seem capable of such a feat. “Cyric did that?”

“Aye. And gossip has that he also provided input about the war with Ireland and England. I was not there, but I understand his words were well received.”

Craig exhaled and Crevan felt his insides collapse. Still, participating in a couple of meetings without embarrassment was not enough to warrant the position of laird of such a large clan. The weak point enabled Crevan to still cling to his hope. “W-we w-will ride f-for ourselves and see.”

“I suggest you go to the training fields in the morning,” Callum hinted, pulling the reins on his horse in preparation to leave. “Cyric is usually out there at dawn for drills. I will be interested in your thoughts on our southern relative. Will you be long at Caireoch?”

“W-w-will there be a need?” came Crevan’s quick counter.

“I cannot say,” Callum replied, and although Crevan could not see the man smiling, his voice indicated that he did find some humor in the situation. Another hint to be prepared for the unexpected. “I’ll send word you are coming. And don’t forget, move downstream to camp,” Callum added, and then left without waiting for a reply.

Dawn peaked over the horizon and found both Craig and Crevan on the outskirts of the Schellden training fields. The area was wide open and there were few places to hide within hearing. Consequently, the brothers opted to remain farther back, where there was thick foliage to block their presence. They could not hear everything, but they would be able to see and remain out of sight.

They had risen hours previously after only a short nap, but sleep no longer plagued them. Adrenaline surged through their veins as they waited to see the man who held their futures in his hands. It was not often Crevan prayed for someone to perform poorly, especially if they were not an enemy, but deep down that is exactly what he hoped to see. A Lowlander fail miserably.

Pink clouds started to fill the horizon and Schellden’s men began to gather in the distant field in various groups. “Do you see him?” Craig asked, knowing Crevan had met him once before, though only briefly.

Crevan shook his head. But they did not have to wait long. When Cyric arrived, Craig did not need to ask if it was him. After spending recent months with Schellden and helping his commanders train dozens of new recruits, Craig recognized everyone on the field—except one.

Cyric looked like a Schellden. Tall and wide, the man handled his mount effortlessly, which was a surprise. Gossip had it that Cyric was unaccustomed to the prickly bushes of the Highlands and it made him a timid rider. But that was not an accurate description of the person who was joining the group practicing with broadswords and targes.

For a while, Cyric was content to just watch and Crevan was beginning to wonder if that was all he did, when Cyric stepped in to give instruction. The boy was young and was struggling with the switch between using the targe alone as a defensive shield and coupling it with the broadsword in an attack. Crevan was unsure of what Cyric said, but the short exchanged worked, for there was immediate improvement.

Cyric stayed there offering several more tips before moving to those practicing close combat. The
biodag
was the one weapon everyone carried, whether a farmer, carpenter, baker, or soldier. The long stabbing knife typically was hung round the waist or attached to the belt and most soldiers carried more than one.

It was dangerous training and often men got injured, but too often the knife was key to winning a battle. Broadswords broke or if an unlucky strike took one unaware, it could knock the larger blade right out of the hand, but not a dirk.

“Look,
sgian dubhs,
” Craig whispered, pointing to what Cyric was having the men do.

Crevan nodded and continued to watch, frowning. The men were returning the small killing knife to their holsters placed high on the sleeve near the armpit. The small knife was used not as often in battle, but in unexpected times of defense. Cyric was training the men on not just how to use the miniature blade, but on how to rapidly draw it, and then quickly turn it in their hand so that it was ready for attack. It was brilliant as those fractions of a second could be the most lethal. A man wary of a situation could fold his arms, placing one hand on the
sgian dubh
so that he could pull it out in a flash if needed.

For the next two hours, Crevan studied the Lowlander as he made his rounds in weapon after weapon. The halberd, a combination of spear and ax on a long handle, was a difficult and unwieldy weapon for some, but Cyric looked not only graceful but deadly as he demonstrated how a foot soldier could effectively cut and thrust with it, killing a horseman. The Lochaber ax with its rounded edge and waved ends was also of no challenge. And Cyric’s ability to manipulate a spear with speed and accuracy was on par with old Olave’s skill at his peak. The only weapon they did not see Cyric use was the longbow, but Crevan assumed the man was not only familiar at shooting an arrow but quite proficient at it.

The Lowlander was impressive with weapons, but training was the ultimate responsibility of the commander, not the chieftain.

“I’ve seen enough,” Crevan muttered, and was about to leave when Craig grabbed his arm.

Crevan scanned the field to see what got Craig’s attention. A fight had broken out where they were using claymores, the heavy two-handed sword. The stance of the men was no longer one of challenge and seeking ways to distract and defeat as part of a training exercise, but of true battle. Such situations had to be resolved quickly before someone got seriously injured or even worse—killed.

Crevan could feel Craig rising and was about to join him in racing out to the fields in hopes of reaching the men in time to stop them when they suddenly saw Cyric on the scene. Within seconds, both men dropped their swords and a minute later headed toward opposite training areas. For the first time, Crevan regretted not being able to hear what was said. But one thing was clear. Cyric had stopped the fight and somehow convinced both men to move on with relatively little argument.

All morning he had been watching the Lowlander, but it was only in the last handful of minutes that Crevan become truly concerned. What he just witnessed was not a skilled fighter, but a leader. Those men did not capitulate because of who Cyric was, but of what he said. If the soldiers respected Cyric, then the prospect of Cyric being proved an unfit leader was very unlikely.

Crevan moved away from his lookout spot to retrieve his horse.

Craig joined him and mounted. “To Caireoch?”

“Aye,” Crevan said. “Schellden is probably w-waiting f-for us. I doubt Callum kept quiet about our arrival.”

“The old man should have a lot to say.”

Crevan grimaced. He was afraid of just the opposite—that Rae Schellden would have very little to say. For what they just witnessed was pretty self-explanatory. Cyric was obviously fit to lead or at least could be trained to do so. Question was, did Rae now want his nephew to inherit his title?

The doors to the Great Hall opened and two large, dark-haired Highlanders entered. Rae Schellden watched as the men walked toward him, both with stern, unhappy expressions. Normally, he found feigning emotion to achieve a strategic advantage to be fairly undemanding, but today the effort was quite difficult. It was also imperative that he was successful in giving the right impression, otherwise this month, his plans, and the future of his clan could be in jeopardy.