Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (173 page)

Ronan glanced over his shoulder. “I vow he has no’ taken his gaze from you since the sun dawned.”

Aeden shrugged. “He may become cross-eyed from the strain if that is his desire. Come nightfall he will no longer be my concern.”

He pinned Ronan with a look. “I want all to go smoothly. If my brother so much as opens his mouth to draw breath, make certain he does no’ by any means fair or foul.”

Ronan nodded his assent and the two traveled along the hilly terrain in alert silence.

When the sun burned at its brightest, Aeden crested a rise that overlooked a bountiful valley. Beyond the river, the Kerr holding tunneled into the side of a mountain. He thought the construction of the holdings’ backside cunning. A sheer drop to the murky loch below awaited anyone foolish enough to breech the castle. A horn trumpeted in the distance to signal their approach. Within moments, they were encircled by guards, divested of their weapons and ushered into the great chamber where the chief of Clan Kerr made Aeden welcome.

Bran clapped Aeden on the back and clasped his forearm in greeting.

“How are you, my boy?”

Aeden returned the robust grip. “’Tis good to see you, old friend.”

Bran propelled Aeden to a chair. Ronan took up a position behind him and they made idle talk until Aeden broached the subject of Addis.

Bran nodded his head agreeing with Aeden and added, “It’s a shame you can’t kill him outright, or formulate a mishap.”

“Those stratagems would only thrust me into an inquiry. Unfortunately, Addis’s war arm is prized by our king. He knows of the dissension in our family.”

“Can you not task one of your men?”

Aeden shook his head. “I would never expect one of my men to do something that I myself will no’ do.”

Bran nodded his head. “I need a sheep-tender on the northern most sector of my land. The area borders the MacFarlane’s and we all know they be a bloodthirsty lot. Your brother steps a foot across the boundary line and he shall get a bludgeoning he won’t soon forget.”

“How far is this out-posting?” Aeden enquired.

“He will be well enough away from the holding, and nigh impossible a walk, so ’tis.”

Ronan scoffed. “A day’s walk is naught for a Lowlander, and in fair weather.”

“Aye, aye,” Chief Kerr agreed. “’Tis fair weather now, and assuming he makes a move, the far border-land is nothing save stony flats with nary a place to shelter. He won’t be able to build a fire without gaining notice of the guards on the battlements.”

“I thank you, Bran.”

The Kerr waved away Aeden’s gratitude.

“I gladly do this in payment for the service your Da, God rest him, performed for me. If it weren’t for his actions, my son would be dead.”

Aeden accepted the mark of respect, spending the next half hour trading stories about his father, both amusing and heroic.

“Come now, and let us eat. It will be half the day afore the other clans join us, and I canna speak for you, but I have a hard enough time listening to auld MacElroy natter away, and I don’t intend to do it on an empty stomach.”

Laughing, they settled themselves at the polished oak table situated atop a dais. Black crow pie, squab, suckling pig, and a vegetable pottage were served. They quenched their thirst with a fresh batch of honey-mint mead and passed around warm, crusty loaves of bread.

• • •

Aeden watched the servants pour drinks for the other chieftains’ settled around the table and waited for the salute. Bran shoved back his chair and raised his cup and clinked it against Aeden’s. Aeden turned to the chief on his right and repeated the practice until the last clan chieftain followed suit. With the formalities out of the way, he nodded to his men to take a seat at the opposite table and Ronan crossed to stand behind his chair.

Bran directed his comments to Aeden.

“Aeden, I understand you’ve taken a woman, and by all accounts she is quite comely.”

Aeden shifted in his seat. “Aye,” he confirmed, saying nothing more. The gossips were in full flag and he didn’t appreciate his wife’s attributes being bandied about.

Ronan expounded on Aeden’s curt reply.

“Comely? She is of a rare beauty the likes of which no man ever beheld, and gifted with healing hands imparted by the Almighty himself.”

Aeden swiveled in his chair and glowered at his friend. He was well aware he reacted like a jealous fool, but couldn’t do otherwise. He didn’t relish the idea of every lame man in the Lowlands showing up on his doorstep in the hopes of being personally ministered to by his beautiful wife.

“Rare in her beauty you say?”

Bran’s arched eyebrows would have retreated into his hairline had he still sported one. Enthused, he turned to Aeden.

“It seems I must plead an invitation to meet Lady Maxwell. And by the scowl on your face you just may refuse me.”

Bran laughed at his own jest.

“Mayhap, I’ll soon find myself plagued by an ailment.” He shook a finger in Aeden’s face. “You could not turn me away then.”

Before Aeden responded, a voice from the other side of the table called out, “Healing hands from God stretches the truth. Would you not agree, brother?”

“Hold your tongue,” Ronan barked.

Kiernan jabbed Addis with an elbow.

Addis shoved Kiernan and stood up to loom over the table.

“I’ll not keep silent. I think it only right Bran Kerr knows he has made an alliance with a man who harbors a witch.”

“That’s chief to you, boy,” Bran corrected.

The bustle and chatter in the hall stalled abruptly. All heads swiveled in Aeden’s direction. Aeden ignored every man in the room as he locked eyes on his prey.

“Repeat your words. I do no’ believe I heard you right.” His voice was deadly soft.

“Slandering a man’s wife is a serious offense, Addis. Honorable men keep women and children out of hostilities. Only a coward uses them to wage war,” Bran spat, his disgust evident.

“To defame a chieftain’s wife is folly indeed, but from the mouth of one’s own brother, ’tis an indisputable affront,” Chief MacCarry added.

Addis smirked at the other chiefs, but the arrogant smile faded fast when he turned his eyes on Aeden. His brother must have sensed the rage pouring off of him, and to Aeden’s satisfaction, he witnessed a true burst of fear in Addis’s expression just before the other dropped his eyes to the tabletop.

He also noted Addis didn’t retract the grave insult to Elisande.

“I’m sure my brother believes the clans present here this eve would take the word of a man who has proven time and again he would do anything to gain a title that was never his.”

Aeden treated Addis to a knifelike stare while he grappled with his seething temper. He did not want to demonstrate to his brother he cared for Elisande. Addis would use it as a weapon against him. Aeden shifted and sent a wordless signal to Ronan, who, drifted to the left and just forward of Aeden’s chair.

Addis slapped his hands on the table.

“The title of chief was never yours. You stole it from me. I am the next in line and it’s my right to claim that title by heredity. My father set a dangerous precedence by sidestepping me.”

“Heredity is not always an absolute. It’s at the discretion of the current chief to be certain his clan is passed into capable hands.” Bran paused before continuing. “And it is more than apparent why Gavin preferred Aeden’s leadership to yours.”

Addis’s face reddened.

“If my father were still alive, he would have never stood by to watch the clan be manipulated by an English slut.”

Aeden’s chair shot back as he launched across the table, upending goblets of mead and tankards of ale. He seized Addis by the throat and sent them both tumbling to the floor. He regained his footing first and dragged his brother up against the wall until the toe of Addis’s boots scraped the rushes for purchase. He was gratified to hear chairs shoved backwards as men jumped to their feet ready to defend his wife’s honor.

Ronan emerged at Aeden’s side, equally outraged by Addis’s accusations.

“Break the bastard’s neck,” he urged.

“Your suggestion has merit.”

Addis’s eyes widened. In desperation, he fought to pry Aeden’s hands from around his neck.

“I will have your apology … Brother.” It wasn’t a request.

“Aye, or you’ll be tasting my fist,” Ronan threatened.

“You will have naught from me,” he wheezed.

Aeden stabbed Addis with a razor-sharp glare. He enunciated each word so his brother and everyone gathered in the hall would not make the mistake of misunderstanding.

“Addis Maxwell, from this evening forward, you are forever banished from Maxwell lands.”

To emphasize the point, Ronan grabbed a handful of plaid and ripped it off Addis’s body, leaving him in his long linen under shirt.

In an abrupt motion, Aeden loosened his choke-hold on Addis’s neck. The unexpected move dropped him to the floor like a sack of dirt. He made one attempt to stand, but Aeden pinned him to the rushes with a heavy boot to the chest.

“Wallow in the filth where you belong.”

“You can’t banish me. Only the lawful chieftain of clan Maxwell has the right to banish his followers. And I am the rightful chief.”

Aeden shoved off from Addis’s chest. His brother’s grunt of pain brought a tight smile to Aeden’s face. Despite his bravado, Addis didn’t try to stand again. Aeden towered over him, arms crossed feet shoulder’s width apart. Without taking eyes from his brother, he gave a discreet nod to Ronan and waited.

Ronan leapt onto a nearby table effectively capturing the attention of the various clan members. He waited for the men to quiet down before he put a question to them.

“Who amongst you believe Aeden Maxwell, second son of Gavin Maxwell, should forfeit chieftain, stepping aside to make way for the first son, Addis Maxwell?”

Immediately a voice from the back of the chamber bellowed, “We follow Aeden!”

A cacophony of voices shouted in agreement.

“The second son is the rightful heir — ”

“Gavin Maxwell named Aeden as his heir — ”

“The title belongs to Aeden Maxwell — ”

Not one opposed.

Addis erupted. “You have turned them against me!”

“You accomplished the deed on your own,” Aeden barked.

“Mark my words, brother. I will take everything away from you, just as you have taken all from me. No one and nothing in your possession is secure.”

Unconcerned, Aeden calmly turned his back on his brother and walked purposefully to his seat. The clan surrounded Aeden, slapping him on the back, confirming their support. He accepted his men’s good wishes, all the while dismissing Addis from his mind. Not one follower spared his brother a glance. To them, he no longer existed.

Aeden nodded his assent to Bran’s unspoken question, who in turn, gestured for his guards to remove Addis from the great chamber. Two men flanked him on either side, lifted him to his feet and restrained his movements.

“Take your hands off me. I don’t need your assistance in leaving,” Addis sneered.

“Bran — ” Aeden shouted over the din.

“I hear you are in dispute with the MacFarlane, is this true?”

“Aye, Aeden,” he hollered in return.

“Everyone knows how murderous they be, and I lost a good sheep-tender during a border dispute. Mayhap you know of a man who might enjoy such a lonely, desolate abode? You see, ’tis a good week’s stroll to the northern boundary, and not an assignment relished by many men.”

Aeden swiveled his head and nailed Addis with a pointed look.

Addis sputtered and struggled against his captors in earnest.

“You are crazed to think you can enslave me. I am of noble birth.”

“You have no choice!” Aeden roared, all pretense of impassivity vanished.

“The moment you slandered my wife, you sealed your fate. Bran,” he turned to the Kerr chief, “I ask your guards to remove this pitiful man from my sight.”

Bran shooed the guards with a wave of his hand. “You heard Chief Maxwell. Addis, enjoy your new post.”

Addis spewed threats and brought curses down on Aeden’s head, but the closed doors soon drowned out any further words.

“Let us celebrate,” Bran suggested.

Immediately servants rushed forward to clear away toppled jugs, and spilled drink, resetting the table in record time.

As Aeden hoisted a silver stein to toast his host, his thoughts unerringly drifted back to his wife and her declaration of love.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Trilling birdsong awoke Elisande. She rolled to Aeden’s side of the bed and almost ended up on the floor. The only proof he had been in their bed was the indent left on the pillow. She hugged it to her face, breathing in his spicy scent, missing him fiercely. She stretched her languid limbs, reliving their night of untamed passion, and her sated body instantly responded to the memory of his voracious loving.

All of a sudden, she sprang up. Mother Mary and all the saints — she’d professed her love to Aeden last eve. She collapsed back on the mattress, desperate to reconstruct the night’s events in her mind. She vaguely remembered saying words of love to him, or something close to that effect, possibly before drifting off to sleep. Blast her loose tongue. She rolled the idea around in her mind and considered the repercussions of her ill-timed declaration.

Well, if he happened to hear her pronouncement, at least he had not charged from the room. If she credited Onora’s insights, the man seemed to view love as a serious personality flaw, and while she was inclined to view the situation as hopeless, she thought that if he cared for her, then love would certainly follow.

If that be the circumstance, than asserting her feelings could be viewed in a positive light. Really, it had been too easy to love Aeden and possibly from the very beginning. Well, surely not the first few days, she amended. He was a tad overbearing. He proved himself a man worthy of her love time and again. It mattered little he’d yet to return the sentiment, or at all. Granted, he never voiced the words, but his actions revealed he cared for her well-being. In spite of the persistent rumors swirling around her, he had given her an honored position by taking her to wife. He allowed her a free hand running his household, insisted she not waste her abilities and tend his people’s ailments, and displayed a ferocious hunger for her alone.