The Magic of Highland Dragons (20 page)

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Perhaps only a half an hour went by before she was standing on the steps of the keep, waiting to meet the father she never knew she had, and could certainly never in her life have imagined. Bren came and stood beside her. He didn’t look at her, didn’t speak to her, and he held himself rigidly, his muscles taught, and his face dark and brooding. She could feel the dark energy of his anger and frustration rolling off of him in waves. She longed to reach for him, kiss him, tell him she would come back, but there was no time. The Laird Loghan McAlpin of Dunreven had arrived.

Her father rode into the yard, a warrior laird, still strong and tall, but with hair graying at the temples, making it look lighter than the chestnut brown it must once have been. She immediately looked for herself in this stranger’s face, but any resemblance was subtle. Behind him rode perhaps a dozen of his men, the massive war horses making the earth shake with their heavy hooves. She saw Bren move past her, going forward as was his duty to formally greet the other laird as a friend and ally. Her father dismounted and clasped forearms with Bren, a terse acknowledgement between warriors. One of which was none too happy to see the other. Then the Laird McAlpin turned his full attention to Faith.

“This is my daughter?”

Bren stiffened even further, but kept his composure. “Aye, so says the sorcerer, Dirc, though I kenned nothing of it until this day. Dirc asked that she have the protection of Creagmor, and this I granted her.”

Her father glanced over at the slightly challenging tone in Bren’s voice, but chose to ignore it. He nodded once. “Aye, this is my daughter, I ken it for the truth. She has the verra look of her mother.” He held out his hand. “Come, lass, I’ll take ye home now. Ye’ve been away far too long and Dunreven awaits yer return.”

Faith felt another moment of near panic. This stranger was her father, and he was going to take her away from this place, and Bren. She had only just begun to feel comfortable at Creagmor, and now she had to leave again. She looked at her father, Loghan McAlpin, and he looked back at her with a carefully stoic expression. She had already warned herself not to expect any sort of a joyful reunion. This was a very different time from the one she grew up in, and most men here did not concern themselves with the raising of daughters, and they were certainly not prone to be demonstrative of their feelings in front of a crowd of strangers. And now, she suddenly realized, even though she was a woman grown, she would have no real rights. Her chest squeezed tighter. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? This man, her father, now had complete control over her life until she was married. Then her husband did.
She has the very look of her mother
, he had said. She had always thought so, too.

She would go with him, for now. She was willing to bet she wouldn’t be given a choice in the matter, anyway. But she would memorize the route along the way, in case she needed to come back on her own.
In case he doesn’t come for me
.
He will come for me, won’t he? Dirc had said he would.
She turned to look at Bren. He met her gaze, but his face was carefully expressionless. And still, he was so very beautiful that her heart melted a little more.
I think I love you, Bren Mac Coinnach. Is that even possible, in such a very short time?

A groom came forward, leading a smaller mare that they had brought along to be her mount. Bren helped her into the saddle, his touch hot against her skin, and she wanted more than anything to turn and step into his arms. Why was he letting her go so easily, damn it! Why wasn’t he asking her to stay with him? Did he not want her after all? She looked at him for the space of two heart beats before she gathered up the reins, but he only stepped back from the horse and looked away.

Thanks to Bren’s expert tutoring, she could ride well enough now not to completely embarrass herself in front of everyone, as long as the horse cooperated. She urged the mare forward to join the rest of the riders, before she looked back at him again, one more time. This time her father took notice, his eyes narrowing, his gaze shifting suspiciously between the two of them. Bren still just stood there, impassive, arms crossed over his chest. Was he really just going to let her go? Had she imagined what was between them? Or was it nothing to him? Maybe, after he had had time to think about it, he had changed his mind. She had thought she could just leave, knowing that she would come back, but now that the moment had come… it wasn’t so easy. She wanted… she wanted Bren to beg her to stay, if she was being honest. Why wasn’t he begging her to stay?
Because now she belonged to her father. He would have to beg another laird, and he would never do that. He would sooner steal her away.
She had been so sure of his feelings for her only yesterday, but now doubt began to plague her mind. She desperately wanted reassurance that nothing had changed, that he still wanted her above all else, but none was forthcoming.

“Come”, Loghan said. “We need to leave now.”

She cast one last look at the Laird of Creagmor, and her heart broke a little, no, a lot. They rode away towards the north.

On the journey to her father’s home he said little, but then they were constantly surrounded by his men. They arrived at Dunreven Castle after dark. It was very late, and she was very tired after her first-ever full day in the saddle. When she tried to dismount, her exhausted legs and shaky muscles wouldn’t hold her, and so much to her humiliation she was carried directly to her room by a guard. Even then, she felt bow-legged, as if she was still astride her horse.

At Dunreven Castle, she had a large room all to herself. She changed into a night dress that had been laid out for her, and stretched out on a huge bed with a mattress stuffed with feathers, not straw like the one she had been sleeping on by the hearth in the maid’s chamber. Being the daughter of a laird apparently had its advantages. Despite all of the thoughts racing through her mind, her body gave out, and she was asleep within minutes.

The next morning, a maid brought food to her room, and water to wash with. After breakfast, when no one came to her room to retrieve her, Faith went down to the hall, and finding no one there either, she went outside to walk in the garden and think things through. She could see the guards on the wall watching her, and she couldn’t decide if their presence made her feel safe or trapped. Probably closer to trapped at the moment. She hadn’t gone far when she heard someone on the path behind her and spun around to see who had followed. It was her father. She was a little ashamed to admit to herself that she had hoped it was Bren.

He smiled at her, a bit warily, but overall his face seemed kind enough. “May I walk with ye… Faith? I think we have much to discuss.”

“Yes, of course. I… need to talk to you, too.”

She glanced up at the guards again. They seemed to be watching her a bit less closely now that her father was with her. Did he think she would try to run away? Or perhaps
—
her heart sped up eagerly at the thought
—be stolen away?

“It’s good to have ye home, lass. I… I have thought of ye often over the years. I always wondered how ye fared, and if ye were safe and happy.”

She looked down at her feet, now clad in the finest of shoes. New clothes had been laid out for her this morning as well. “I can’t say the same, though I wish I could. Because I never even knew about you. I never even knew about… here.”

Loghan’s mouth pressed into a grim line for a moment, and he seemed to struggle with some unknown emotion. “Yer mother was going to tell ye, when ye were old enough. When she thought ye would understand, or when it was near time for ye to return.”

“Well she never told me. Then she died, and I was all alone.”

He nodded, and she thought she saw a flash a sorrow in his eyes. “How… how did she die?”

Faith hesitated.
Car crash
would mean nothing to him. “It was in an accident, while travelling.”

He was staring straight ahead, his gaze far away as if remembering. “I loved her, ye ken. I never wanted either of ye to go.”

Faith’s lips curled in a tiny smile. It was good to know her mother had been loved. Perhaps she had loved him too. Perhaps that was what she held onto all of those years. She must have held onto something, to make her so strong. Much stronger then Faith had ever realized.

She shook her head. “I can’t even imagine what it must have been like for her. Going to another time, raising a child all on her own. She had more strength than I even gave her credit for.” How on earth had she done it? Faith smiled, a little sadly. “I guess that explains my life-long passion for history. More than explains it.” She looked around, took a breath. This man who was her father, in time she would come to know him, maybe even to love him.
I belong here. I’m finally home.

“She was not completely alone”, he said almost as if to himself. “She would have had help, now and then. Dinna worry that she went with nay help.”

Faith wondered what he meant by that, but did not press further. The moment did not seem right, and there would be time enough later, when they knew each other better, to talk more about her mother and all she had gone through to keep them both safe.

They walked in silence for a moment, still strangers, not really knowing what to say, or how to begin, until Faith finally turned to him with a question that had been burning in her mind for some time.

“Father…”
God how strange it was to say that
... “Who is the Laird of Creagmor, exactly? Do you know much about him?” She thought she saw a slight look of amusement at her question pass across his face, but she may have been mistaken.

“He is Chief of the Mac Coinnachs, a verra ancient and powerful clan, as was his father before him. And Laird of Creagmor Castle, of course.”

“No, I mean, there’s been all this talk at Creagmor about dark wizards, and… and magic. I don’t know anything about any of that.”

“Ah, ye want to ken if he’s a dark wizard?” He shook his head. “Nay he’s no’.”

She hadn’t thought so, but that wasn’t exactly what she meant. “Then what is he? How is it that he can do… things?”

Her father laughed softly at her question, as if it bordered on the ridiculous. “He’s a Mac Coinnach, they are just born that way.” He sobered as he regarded her still pensive face. “Has he been good to ye lass? Has he hurt ye in any way?”

“No. No, he hasn’t hurt me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Has he had his hands on ye then?” he asked through a heavy scowl. “Do I have need to avenge yer honor, daughter?”

Faith looked at him, her own eyes widening. “No, he hasn’t… dishonored me.”

“Hmmmph”, her father said. “Ye said nothing about his hands.”

Chapter 11
҈

Bren had stood and watched another man taking away the woman that was his. His by rights, and his by destiny. He didn’t give a damn if the man was her father or God himself; he was taking Faith away from him, and he wanted to kill him for it. It was all he could do to stand there with pure hot rage boiling in his veins and not let it show. He could not even look at her for fear of losing the already tenuous grip he had on his control. He had no choice; he had to let her go with her father or risk starting a bloody feud. Loghan was a powerful laird, and Bren wouldn’t ask his own men to risk their lives when he could simply wait and have her back without a bloody battle. Had he refused to give her over to her father, Loghan would have been forced to defend his daughter’s honor. But he would have her back. No matter what happened, Faith belonged to him and him alone. He would
never
let her go!

In a few days time, he would make a formal visit to Dunreven Castle, and ask for her hand in marriage. He cursed himself for not binding her to him sooner. If he had wed her already, no man, not even her father could take her away from him. But Faith would never have agreed. He would have had to force her, and that would have ripped his heart out. He pushed his hands through his hair. In the hearth, the fire flared up to an inferno. It had been just two days since she left and already he was utterly beside himself. He wanted her with him, wanted her heart for his own, and wanted her naked and willing in his bed. The memory of the night in the forest when he had come so close to taking her suddenly assaulted him. His body hardened. His pulse beat in his temples. He roared in anger and frustration, uncaring who heard him. In the hall, the servants whispered to one another and stayed out of his way.

Bren waited the two agonizing days he thought proper, or bloody well proper enough, then on the third day set out for Dunreven, unable to hold out another moment. His brother Eian went with him, as well as a small contingent of his best warriors. He wanted Faith to be safe, when he brought her home to Creagmor, because he wasn’t leaving without her. It had been a shock to learn her true identity, and he was still a bit angry at Dirc for keeping the whole truth from him. Even if, as he claimed, his intentions were good. Faith McAlpin. The laird’s own long-lost daughter. Heiress to all of Dunreven, since Loghan had never remarried or had any sons. And yet it wouldn’t have mattered to him if she were the daughter of a pauper; she was the only woman he wanted. She was the one chosen for him, the one made for him in every way.