Kilts and Kisses Page 2

  “Be that as it may, I know our parents would’ve expected ye to live your life. Ye need to smile, laugh... I cannae remember the last time I saw any of that from ye. There is naught we can do about Sorcha and her annoying suitors, but once she weds ‘the most powerful laird in the Highlands,’ she will nay longer be underfoot and causing trouble. For the moment, cannae ye be happy for me? I need this—Samuel—in my life.”

  “Let me get some sleep and we’ll talk about it on the morrow. But give me your word there will be nay more secret meetings with Samuel.”

  “A-mach à seo!” Out of here! “I cannae give my word for something I cannae do.”

  Ceana stood. “I’m going to bed. I’ve had more than enough this eve.”

  “Do ye think she waits?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Sorcha. Do ye think she waits for the apparition of her future husband to appear in her bedchamber?”

  “I think any man—or apparition—who is willing to take Sorcha to wife is a daft fool.”

  “Ye still donna believe Aunt Marta is a witch, do ye?”

  Ceana wiped her hand across her brow. “I think Aunt Marta believes in some verra strange things, but nay, she is nay witch. Ye best keep those thoughts to yourself. Get some sleep, Anna.” Ceana closed the door behind her and briefly closed her eyes. Not only were suitors scaling the walls in order to gain her sixteen-year-old cousin’s favor, but now Ceana had discovered that her fifteen-year-old sister was having nightly trysts on the parapet.

  Perhaps it was time that this eighteen-year-old lass did something different for a change.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Luthais MacKay reveled in the silence that surrounded him. He tilted his neck from left to right. As the cool night air blew tendrils of hair into his face, he secured the loose strands behind his ear. He took another swig of whisky and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Since he was a small boy, he had often found solace in this spot.

  The full moon cast a shimmering glow on the water as if it taunted him, making him believe this was the last moment of peace he’d ever receive. He rubbed his fingers over his tired eyes. In his sire’s absence, the clan felt compelled to have Luthais settle disputes. And not just any disputes—the petty kind over sheep and rents, and how could he forget the incident of the clansman who was cuckolded by his wife?

  The men demanded justice. They couldn’t even wait until his father returned from Edinburgh before they swarmed like a bunch of bees, sensing sweet nectar and then turning around and stinging Luthais in the arse. Then again, perhaps he shouldn’t be too eager to see Laird William MacKay. After all, his father would not be pleased when he found the clan in such disarray, although Luthais had tried his best to act in his father’s stead.

  He gazed up when he felt eyes watching him from the tree branch overhead. “I know ye’re there.”

  The only response was the sound of fluttering wings.

  “How could ye know? I made nay sound.”

  A figure approached in the moonlight, and Luthais held back a groan. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve been taken aback by the red-haired man who stood six and a half feet tall and carried a broadsword. “What are ye doing? I came out here to be alone.”

  “What kind of man would I be to let my best lad drink alone? I’ve come to share your drink.” Doughall extended his hand for the flask and then took a swig.

  Luthais knew when a battle was already lost. There was no sense in arguing for his friend to depart. Lowering himself to the ground, Luthais rested his back against the standing stones that had been there for centuries. He’d never understood the significance of the rocks, if any, but they were a common staple of the Scottish landscape. Although some clan members believed the formations had been left by the fae, others thought they were a relic left for young lovers to seal their devotion to each other. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe in such superstitions. But for some unexplainable reason, six giant rocks formed a circle on MacKay lands at the northern end of the loch.

  “I’m afraid to ask, but how did ye find me?”

  Doughall sat beside Luthais and handed back the whisky. “Ye’re always at na tursachan when ye’re troubled.” The standing stones. “What will ye do when your father returns on the morrow?”

  “Gladly hand back the reins.”

  “Ye know what I mean.”

  “Aye. I donna know. He will be cross.”

  Doughall laughed. “Think ye?”

  “I donna want to talk about it. I came out here to drink in peace. Na can an còrr.” Say no more.

  “I will nae stop ye from getting into your cups, but I suggest your head be clear for thought when ye speak to your father.”

  Luthais let the fiery liquid burn down his throat. “Aye, well, I’ll worry about that on the morrow.”

  “God’s teeth!” Doughall eyed the trees above with disgust and then wiped his shoulder. “Why do your vexatious birds always shite on me?”

  “They know the hand that feeds them.”

  “Be that as it may, mayhap ye can train them a wee bit better, eh? They’re only as good as the man who trains them.”

  “I’ll think about it. Do ye have anything to eat? I didnae sup.”

  “Aye...mutton.”

  “Arse. I told ye that I donna want to hear another word about the damn sheep.”

  A flash of humor crossed Doughall’s face. “Baaah.”

  “Ye know ye would’ve done the same.”

  Doughall shrugged. “In truth, ye did more than I would have done.” He gave Luthais a brotherly punch in the arm. “If it were me, I would’ve told the men to keep their squabbling to themselves and wait for the damn laird to return. But then again, I am nae the laird’s son and the one who had to listen to the whining in my ear every day.”

  “I donna know how my father does it. Who would’ve thought the MacKays could be so annoying?” When Doughall lifted his brow and gave him a knowing look, Luthais stood with the whisky in hand. “Bastard. I’m going home where I can find air to breathe. Do ye stay?”

  “Och, nay. I’ll return with ye.” Doughall pulled himself to his feet at the same time Luthais extended his arms in the air as if to embrace the moon.

  “Trobhadaidh.” Come. As the branches rustled overhead, he couldn’t help but chuckle when the mighty Doughall took a step back. Luthais ambled toward his mount as several talons descended upon him, gripping the leather straps on his shoulders and the one on his forearm.

  Laird William MacKay sat behind the desk in his study. He always had an authoritative manner, which was why he was a powerful laird. But this time his coolness was evidence that he was not amused. With his square jaw tensed, he exuded an air of command. Although Luthais’ sire used to have a wealth of red hair, those strands had grayed at the temples and looked unruly. Still dressed in his traveling clothes, his father didn’t even bother to remove the dust from his plaid before he called Luthais in to face the inquisition.

  “Ye did what?”

  Luthais winced. “Father, please let me explain.”

  “Ye better have a damn good reason... God’s teeth! What explanation could ye possibly give? Are ye daft? Sometimes I wonder if ye’re truly my son. I have nay doubt that your lack of judgment comes from your mother’s kin.” He paused. “Och, well, at least the lass had enough sense to wed the likes of me.”

  Luthais shifted in the chair and gazed at the shield and swords that hung behind his father’s head. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to grab something off the wall in order to defend himself from his father’s wrath. But when he saw the fire return in his sire’s eyes, he realized it was too late. He felt like he was a wee lad getting scolded in his father’s study for the first time.

  “The men wouldnae wait for your return. They came to me because they knew I acted in your stead.”

  “Ye should be able to act in my stead by now!” His father sighed with exasperation. “I want to know what in the hell possessed ye to do this.” Lutha
is was about to speak when his father held up his hand to stay him. “But more to the point, why did ye tie a rope around Dhoileag and John, and then tie one of John’s sheep to Thomas and have all of them walk around the village like a damn procession? Có thusa?” Who are you?

  When his father phrased it that way, Luthais realized perhaps that hadn’t been one of his best ideas. A lump formed in his throat. “Ye see, Father, John and Thomas plagued me every day of your absence. Thomas claimed Dhoileag had cuckolded him with John, and John said Thomas stole his sheep. I held off as long as I could for your return and grew tired of hearing their endless words about one another. I wasnae sure who to believe. There was nay proof that Dhoileag shared her favors with another man, and I wasnae certain Thomas stole John’s sheep. I donna think ye would’ve wanted me to cut off Thomas’s hand and John’s bollocks without knowing the truth.”

  His father rubbed his brow. “So ye bound them all together like haggis in the middle of the village and they walked around like idiots?”

  “Aye, but they only had to stay that way until one of them spoke the truth, or they saw to it to forget this matter.”

  “But if ‘tis true and Dhoileag wasnae faithful to her husband, Thomas’s honor is at stake. Justice must be served.”

  “And what would ye have me do, Father? Is iomadh rud a nì dithis dheònach.” Two willing people can do many things.

  His father’s expression became pained. “How do ye expect to take my place one day as laird when ye make such foolish decisions? The men looked to ye to pass judgment. They expected ye to consider their words and didnae expect ye to make a mockery of their grievances. Ye are my only heir. If I die on the morrow, I cannae say that I would blame the clan for choosing Doughall over ye to be chief.”

  “Doughall? He doesnae want to be laird. His only purpose is proving to everyone that he’s the best warrior in all the Highlands.”

  “This conversation is long past due.” There was an edge to his father’s voice. “Ye know King James demands that the lairds travel to Edinburgh every year. Ye need to show the clan that ye’re able to make wise decisions in my absence. And contrary to what ye might think, tying a sheep to a thief and a wife to her lover isnae one of them. Ye need to think in the best interest of the clan, always. That’s what makes a good chief. ‘Tis time to change, Luthais.” His father stood.

  “Ye need to think of someone other than yourself.” He paused, tapping his finger on the desk and staring at it in a trance-like state. “Your mother was a good woman. Mayhap that is what ye need.”

  “I donna understand.”

  “A woman, one woman. Mayhap what ye need is a wife. Ye’re one and twenty. What better way to learn to be accountable for someone else than to have a wife?”

  “Surely ye’re jesting.” Luthais knew his father was not.

  “I’ve heard rumors that Laird Gunn seeks a husband for his daughter. Your marriage could bring an alliance between our clans.”

  “I’m able to have a wife of my own choosing.”

  “Then do so before I choose for ye.”

  Luthais stiffened as though his father had struck him. He knew his sire was tired of his careless behavior, but another pecking bird in his life was not what he wanted or needed. At least his own birds minded him. “Father—”

  “I just returned from Edinburgh and once again had to clean up your mess. I want to bathe. I want to eat. And I am done talking.” The laird walked around the desk and held up his hand, giving fair warning when he passed and walked out the door.

  “Damn.”

  “What did he say?”

  Luthais looked over his shoulder and growled at his friend who had just entered the room. “He wants me to wed.”

  There was a heavy silence.

  “I see that look in your eyes, Doughall. Out with it.”

  “As I said before, I’m thankful I’m nae the laird’s son,” his friend said with a chuckle.

  “That’s all ye have to say? Ye have nay advice to offer me?”

  Doughall shrugged. “I wish ye luck with that.”

  Luthais rode through the village, continued through the glen, and then made his way to the loch. He tied off his faithful mount, a beast of an animal. The sturdy chestnut warhorse never hesitated when given a command. Gazing around the loch, Luthais watched as one of his hawks skimmed the surface of the water with its talons and flew into a nearby tree. Luthais climbed the small, grassy knoll, realizing he hadn’t been here in the daylight for a long time. He always favored brooding alone in the darkness. But as he reached the standing stones, he stopped dead in his tracks.

  A woman sat with her back resting against his favorite rock. Her light-brown hair hung in loose waves over her shoulder and her brow was furrowed. She was so engrossed in the small journal she was reading that she didn’t hear him approach.

  “Ye’re clearly nae reading about the MacKays or ye’d know ye were trespassing on our lands.”

  Emerald eyes met his, and without warning, he felt like he’d been punched in the gut by Doughall. The woman closed the book and rose, smoothing the skirts of her day dress. The apricot and milky shades of her skin reminded him of light-colored cream. She had a genial mouth and sparkling eyes. When the wind picked up, tousling her brown locks, the faint smile that she gave him held a touch of sadness. Her steps slowed as she walked toward him. From her demeanor, she looked as though she could be as playful as a young lass or as composed as an intelligent woman.

  “Please accept my apologies. I was just about to take my leave.” She walked past him and around the circle of standing stones.

  “And where do ye think ye’re going?”

  She laughed over her shoulder. “Mayhap ye’re the one who needs to pick up a book. I told ye I was about to take my leave.”

  “Dé’n t-ainm a th’ort?” What’s your name? When she paid him no heed and continued to place distance between them, he added, “Fuirich mionaid!” Wait a moment! Luthais ran to catch up with her. He grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. When she gripped the journal to her chest in a protective embrace, he instinctively rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  Her eyes widened. “Surely ye donna think I’m going to cause ye harm. Now if ye’ll excuse me, I’ll be taking my leave.”

  His hand came down on her shoulder as she tried to turn away from him again. “Are ye alone?”

  “And what gave me away, pray tell?” She exhaled with agitation.

  “Ye have a sharp tongue.”

  Her slender hand touched his forearm. “Please accept my apologies. I only sought peace and quiet. I’m afraid I’ve made a mistake. I will nae come here again. Ye have my word.”

  She grabbed the reins of her horse and mounted with ease as Luthais stood there like a dolt, trying to figure out why he didn’t move to stop her. In fact, he found himself at an actual loss for words, which was a rare occurrence.

  “Ye didnae tell me your name.”

  She straightened her shoulders and lowered her eyes to his. “Nay, I didnae.”

  The lass kicked her mount into a gallop. Thundering hoofbeats pounded the earth around the loch and into the dense forest. Luthais didn’t tear his eyes away until the woman passed out of sight. He’d never seen her before. Where did she come from? He couldn’t answer that question, but he knew the answer to another.

  She’d set foot on his enemy’s lands.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The wind whipped through her hair. A branch slapped her in the face. A thorn scratched her leg, and yet Ceana didn’t slow her horse. She needed to place as much distance between herself and that man as she could. Uncle John would serve her head on a platter if she was caught trespassing on MacKay lands. She turned her head over her shoulder, praying she wasn’t being followed.

  Who knew what had drawn her to the standing stones in the first place, but she wouldn’t make that mistake again. She’d always remained on Gunn property around the loch. But her father’s lands were becoming far t
oo crowded with Sorcha’s admirers of late. She needed a change of venue to escape the chaos inside and out. When her mind wandered back to the guard who caught her where she wasn’t supposed to be, she shuddered. Thank God she was able to talk him into letting her leave of her own free will.

  The MacKay guard was an imposing man, especially with the large broadsword that was sheathed at his waist. She could barely remember his features because her only thought at the time was escape. But she did notice that he wore a blue, green, and black kilt and had leather straps on his shoulders and forearms. He was battle ready. She tried to keep that in the back of her mind because the next time she saw the tartan, she’d be sure to flee. Not that there would be a next time, but perhaps his companions wouldn’t be as kind.

  Ceana slowed her pace when she cleared the trees. For once, her home was a welcome sight. She suddenly longed for the security of the stone walls, even with mad Aunt Marta and haughty Sorcha. In a way, her experience with the MacKay guard had both thrilled her and frightened her. She wasn’t sure how that was possible.

  As soon as she entered the bailey, Anna walked hurriedly toward her.

  “Ceana, make haste.”

  “What has happened?” She dismounted, handing the reins to the stable hand. She knew her short-lived adventure was over because she was instantly thrown back into her disorderly life.

  “Come with me, and we’ll kill her together.”

  Ceana followed Anna through the great hall. Seeing the servants readying the midday meal, Ceana prayed that the food on the tables wasn’t for another one of her cousin’s suitors. As the sisters climbed the stairs to their private rooms, Anna spoke over her shoulder.

  “‘Tis Sorcha. She ransacked your bedchamber searching for one of her dresses. She’s mad. She thinks ye took her gown because ye admired it.”

  When they reached Ceana’s room, they found Aunt Marta standing in the hall in front of the door. Their aunt began to shake when she saw Ceana. “But if ye donna do what is right, sin is crouching at your door. It desires to have ye, but ye must master it.”