Kilts and Kisses Page 3

  Ceana placed her hand on her aunt’s shoulder. “I’m afraid the only sin crouching at my door, Aunt Marta, is your daughter. I havenae taken anything of Sorcha’s.” Ceana entered her chamber and bit down hard on her lower lip to control her anger.

  “Where is it? What have ye done?” Sorcha whipped the dress that she held to the floor and stormed toward Ceana, closing the distance between them. “Where is my gown?”

  “What gown?”

  “The one that I wore last eve. The one ye admired.”

  Anna flanked Ceana, her face a glowering mask of rage. “Leave her alone, Sorcha! She doesnae have it! Tha sin gu leòr!” That is enough!

  “I donna have your dress, nor would I want it.” Ceana stepped around her pampered cousin and gazed at her once well-kept room. All the clothes from her trunk were scattered about. The blankets from the bed, including her mother’s golden embroidered coverlet, lay in a heap on the floor, and the edge of Ceana’s journal stuck out from under the feather mattress. But when she spotted her mother’s pendant, which had been thrown across the room with complete callousness, Ceana’s temper flared.

  Each stride was fluid until she dropped to her knees in the corner of her chamber. She cupped the jewelry in her hand, fingering the delicate object with fond memories. This was the only piece of jewelry remaining from her mother’s things. The gold pendant was set with a yellow-brown garnet and a deep yellow-green gem. A single sapphire teardrop hung on the bottom, a gift her father had given her mother on their wedding day. And her cousin had tossed the jewelry on the floor like it was nothing more than yesterday’s trash.

  Ceana’s expression darkened, and she rose. She glared at Sorcha with burning, reproachful eyes as Aunt Marta stepped into the room, waving her arms.

  “Sorcha, cease! Cannae ye see she holds the amulet? The power is within her to—”

  “Droch sgillinn ort!” May an evil shilling find you! Ceana declared.

  Aunt Marta raised her hands over her lips, and Sorcha gasped.

  “Aye, Aunt Marta. I hold the amulet that cursed Sorcha.” Ceana thundered out the door and down the hall as Anna followed in her wake.

  “Ceana, wait!” Anna grabbed her sister’s arm to slow her pace. “Please stop and talk to me.”

  Ceana didn’t pause until they reached the bottom of the stairs to the great hall. A score of men and women were now gathered at the tables for the meal. Ceana was so furious that she didn’t even notice Uncle John studying her from the dais.

  “Ceana?”

  “I have put up with our cousin’s wicked behavior long enough. Did ye see, Anna? Did ye see? She threw Mother’s pendant on the floor as if it meant naught. Naught! ‘Tis bad enough Uncle John had Mother and Father’s belongings removed from our home and their portraits taken from the verra walls on which they hung, but I will nae have our mother’s memory thrown away and banished from thought.”

  “Shhh...lower your voice. I know how much Mother’s pendant means to ye.”

  A hand clasped down on Ceana’s shoulder. “And why are my nieces so distraught, pray tell?”

  Ceana turned. Her uncle stood a head taller than she was, and even though he was five years younger than her father, the resemblance was discomforting. Uncle John’s dark hair was full with graying strands, and she could see her father’s eyes in his. But where her father’s eyes had held warmth, Uncle John’s did not. He wore the Gunn plaid of blue, green, and red, and affixed at his shoulder was the clan badge—her father’s badge—which read “Aut pax aut bellum.” Either peace or war.

  “Uncle John, I—”

  “Aye, Cousin. Do tell Father the truth of how ye stole my gown and then cursed me in my own home.” Sorcha, the dragon, made a grand entrance as she descended the stairs with Aunt Marta nipping at her heels.

  Ceana’s anger and hurt could no longer be controlled. “Och, I’m certain ‘tisnae the first time ye’ve been cur—”

  Anna stepped on Ceana’s foot at the same time Sorcha’s lady maid walked into the great hall, carrying Sorcha’s gown. The way the girl quivered in Sorcha’s presence incensed Ceana even more.

  “Please accept my apologies. The maids told me ye were looking for your lovely dress. After I helped ye remove it last eve, I noticed a small tear in the shoulder. I took your dress to mend it. I had hoped to replace it before... I’m sorry.”

  “There, there, Beitris,” said Aunt Marta. “All is well.”

  Uncle John chuckled. “I’ll leave ye ladies to your dresses.”

  “Take the gown back to Sorcha’s chamber, Beitris.”

  “Aye, m’lady.”

  Aunt Marta turned, giving Sorcha a half-scolding look. “Sorcha, donna ye have something to say to Ceana?”

  Sorcha brushed Ceana’s arm as she passed. “Aye, we’re going to be late for the meal.”

  “My Sorcha has always been a willful child. Ceana, my dear, could ye please find it in your heart to remove the curse ye placed on her? She is looking for a husband, ye know. I’m certain ye were angry, but I know ye donna wish your cousin ill.” When Ceana didn’t respond, Aunt Marta lowered her voice. “I will have her clean the mess she made in your bedchamber.”

  “Nay.” Ceana didn’t need her cousin setting foot in her room again. “I’ll do it. And I already removed the curse, Aunt Marta. Sorcha is free to find her husband and start a new life far away from here.”

  “I’m verra proud to call ye my sister.” Anna smiled from ear to ear. “And I thought Aunt Marta was the witch in the clan.”

  Sitting in the ladies’ solar with her sister, Ceana placed her embroidery to the side. She needed a moment to think about how to broach the subject of Samuel. When she gazed around the room and noticed Aunt Marta’s more recent touch, she shook her head. “I suppose our cousin didnae see her future husband when she washed her sleeve after all. Aunt Marta has added something new for Sorcha’s luck.” She nodded to the table.

  “The heather?”

  “The white heather.”

  Anna lifted a brow. “Why would she do that? Ye told her ye lifted the curse.”

  “Malvina.”

  “Pardon?”

  Ceana studied her sister thoughtfully for a moment. “Ye donna remember Mother telling us the tale of Malvina?”

  “If Mother told us, I’d love to hear the story again.” Anna sat forward in the chair with her hands on her knees. “Tell me.”

  “According to legend, Ossian, the famous bard, told a tale of Toscar’s daughter, Malvina. Now Malvina was the bonniest lass in all the land. It wasnae long before she fell in love and captured the heart of a strong Scottish warrior named Oscar. The two of them became betrothed. In order to provide for his future bride, Oscar took his leave in search of coin to fill the coffers. But as time passed, Malvina missed him dearly.”

  Ceana continued. “One day she was sitting with Ossian in the Highlands talking about the love of her life, her Oscar, when a man staggered toward them across the moors. Ye see...the man was a messenger who had been sent by Oscar. He told Malvina that her beloved Oscar has been killed in battle, and then the man handed her a spray of purple heather. The heather was a final gift from Oscar, who pledged his undying love for her with his verra last breath.”

  “That’s tragic. What became of her?”

  “Malvina was inconsolable when she learned that Oscar had passed. She ran across the moors and through the glen, weeping bitterly. When her tears fell on the ground beneath her feet, the heather turned pure white. When she saw this, she dropped to her knees and prayed that others might ne’er be as unfortunate as her. The white heather is said to be a token of good luck and fortune to those who find it and pluck it. I’m nae surprised Aunt Marta has gathered some for her dear Sorcha.”

  Anna’s expression was grim. “Malvina loved him.”

  “Aye. We need to talk about Samuel.”

  “I was wondering how long it would take for ye to broach the subject.” Anna glanced at the door and then lowered her voice. “
I told Samuel that ye found out about us. He wants to speak with ye but nae in the castle. Can ye meet him at the loch in the morn after ye break your fast?”

  “Aye.” When the memory of the MacKay guard came to mind, Ceana pushed back the thought. She’d be certain to remain on her father’s lands from now on. “Please tell me Raonull, the rogue, doesnae know of your trysts. The man boasts of his conquests to anyone who will listen, and he has a loose tongue. Ye donna want the entire clan knowing about ye and Samuel.”

  “I asked Samuel nae to tell his brother. He gave his word that he wouldnae. I trust him, as should ye.”

  “With our parents nay longer here, ‘tis my duty to protect ye and do what’s best for ye. Samuel is courting my sister. I’ll be sure to give him the same courtesy our father would’ve given him.”

  “Aye, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Ceana wasn’t thrilled to be meeting the man who was courting her sister, but she had given her word that she would speak to him. She tied off her mount to a tree and sat on a rock at the loch’s edge the next morning. The water lapped gently against the shore and two big birds, perhaps hawks, flew into a branch not far overhead.

  “Thank ye for meeting me.”

  Ceana rose as Samuel approached her. He wore a loose tunic over the Gunn kilt, and a plaid hung over his shoulder. His wavy, reddish-brown hair touched the top of his shoulders, and she noticed his dimples when he smiled. From his boyish good looks, she could see why Anna favored him.

  He gestured toward the rock and sat beside her. “Please, sit.”

  “I’ve come to understand that ye’ve been courting my sister.”

  “Aye, your sister is a fine lass.”

  “And what exactly are your intentions with Anna?”

  His face reddened. “I can assure ye that I have the utmost respect for her. I enjoy our talks. She’s witty and makes me laugh. I donna know what the future holds for us, but I...” He lowered his gaze to the ground. “I love her. Ye are her sister. She wants your blessing.”

  “Your brother—”

  “Is a daft fool. I donna listen to his words, nor do I take his advice. I gave my vow to Anna. He doesnae know anything as long as ye donna want him to.”

  “My sister is all I have left in this world. If ye cause her harm, I will kill ye.”

  When he noticed the playful expression on her face, he returned her smile. “I understand. Your father was a good man, and he’s sorely missed.”

  “Thank ye.”

  They sat silently for a long time, and then he rose in one fluid motion.

  “Do I have your blessing to court your sister?”

  Ceana studied him for a moment. “And why is it that ye’re nae asking my uncle for such permission?”

  He lifted a brow and gave her a knowing look.

  “Aye, as long as my sister wants ye in her life, ye are welcome in mine.”

  “Thank ye.”

  “Samuel, how long have ye been in my uncle’s guard?”

  “I turned eighteen a fortnight ago so I’ve been with your uncle for nearly two years. I’m sorry to say that I ne’er had the honor of serving your father.”

  “I see.”

  He gestured Ceana toward the mounts. “Should we return together, Mistress Gunn?”

  “If ye’re courting my sister, ye may call me Ceana when we’re alone. I’ll remain here for a while longer.”

  “Having your blessing means a lot to us both.”

  As she watched Samuel, she noticed that even his walk had a sunny cheeriness. He mounted his horse and rode off. She had to admit, she couldn’t stay her smile that broadened with approval. When a large shadow loomed over her head, she gazed above her. Three birds were perched on a thick branch—close, almost too close. Perhaps they had a nest somewhere high up in the tree.

  “And we meet again, lass. Tell me, what are the odds?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ceana’s eyes darted back and forth. She knew Samuel had already taken his leave, but it was worth trying to look for him in the hope that he could rescue her. With no other choice, she gazed at the man who stood there tall and straight like a towering pine. Oh yes. He was without a doubt the same guard she’d met at the standing stones.

  He wore the MacKay plaid of blue, green, and black, and her eyes froze on his long, lean form. She tried not to pay any heed to the large broadsword that was sheathed at his waist. When she looked up at his powerful shoulders, she saw they were covered in leather. He was devilishly handsome. She was surprised she didn’t remember that from their first encounter, but she’d been trying to escape his daunting presence at the time. The shadow of his beard gave him a more manly air, and his emerald eyes were startling against his fair skin and light-brown shoulder-length hair.

  “What are ye doing here?”

  He gestured toward the tree. “I came to fetch my birds.”

  “The hawks are yours?”

  He walked around her. “Aye. They’ve been with me for quite a while.”

  “They’re beautiful. I can sometimes see them from the parapet flying in the distance, usually killing some poor animal,” she said with heavy sarcasm. “Ye better gather them before your men come to find ye.”

  “Nay one comes out here by the loch or na tursachan, but I’m sure ye already know that. ‘Tis why ye’re here.”

  “Ye best be on your way.”

  “I will nae cause ye any harm, but I’ll do as ye ask.” He held his arms up in the air. “Trobhadaidh.” Come.

  Ceana stood in awe as three hawks flew out of the tree and flocked toward the MacKay man. Two of the birds landed on his shoulders and the other on his arm. “Magnificent.”

  He gave her a warm smile. “Would ye like to touch one?”

  “May I?”

  “Aye. Come slowly toward me, and keep your hands and arms down at your side. Donna make any sudden movements.”

  Ceana walked at a leisurely pace and stopped beside him. “I’ve ne’er seen one this close before. Do they have names?”

  “Aye.” He lifted his left shoulder. “This one is Mac na Bracha.” The son of the malt. He lifted his right shoulder. “This one is Mac na Praisich.” The son of the still. “And this one,” he raised his arm, “is Mac na Diobhail.” Son of the Devil.

  Ceana bit her lip to stifle a grin.

  “I call him that because he bites. The other two recognize the hand that feeds them. Ye may touch the one on my shoulder if ye wish.”

  “Are ye certain?”

  “Aye, that one doesnae bite.”

  Her raised fingers caressed the soft feathers of the hawk. She couldn’t believe she was touching a bird of prey, let alone that the man before her held three. “How do they know to come to ye when ye call for them?”

  “Many hours of training and cursing.”

  She was startled when a laugh escaped her. “Thank ye, truly.”

  “‘Tis my pleasure, lass.”

  When she realized she didn’t know this man at all and was consorting with the enemy alone, she pulled her drifting thoughts together. “Ye best take your leave before—”

  “Now why did ye have to do that? We were getting along so well.” He cast a roguish grin. “Besides, I cannae yet take my leave. Ye havenae gifted me with your name. What am I to call ye? I am Luthais MacKay.”

  “If my father’s men find ye here—”

  “Ah...Mistress Gunn. ‘Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He looked directly at her, and she suddenly felt light-headed. “Tell me. What were ye doing on MacKay lands?”

  To her annoyance, she found herself starting to blush. “I was reading my journal.”

  “But ye could have read your journal here on your own lands. Why were ye on the MacKay’s?” When he saw her hesitation, he added, “What do ye think I’m going to do with your answer, lass? ‘Tis but a simple question I’ve asked of ye.”

  She took another moment, trying to weigh her response. Perhaps a bit of the truth wouldn’t be harmfu
l—at least, she hoped not. “As of late, we’ve had many visitors and I needed a respite, a change of view.”

  “Too many suitors storming the gates, eh?”

  At the remembrance of Sorcha’s line of men, Ceana’s voice was hoarse with frustration. “Ye have nay idea.”

  “Och, aye. I understand now. Ye were at the stones to find your husband.”

  She looked at the man like he had three heads. “Pardon?”

  “Come now. Ye must know the tale. Everyone does.” His eyes grew amused when he realized she had no idea what he was talking about. “‘Tis said that if a man and a woman touch na tursachan at the same time and share a kiss, they are destined to be husband and wife.”

  “And who says that exactly?”

  “My clan.”

  “I see.” Her response held a note of impatience. “Most of my clan think the stones have healing properties, while others believe the stones are the home of the fae.”

  “And what do ye believe?”

  “None of it.” Without warning, Mac na Diobhail pecked her and she jerked her arm away.

  “Na dean sin!” Don’t do that! “Are ye all right?”

  Pain shot through her flesh, and she pulled up the sleeve on her dress. Blood was trickling from a small wound on her forearm. “He bit through my dress.”

  “Dèan às!” Be gone! As the birds flew away, a feather caught in the wind and floated to the ground. “Please accept my apologies.” He pulled a piece of cloth out of his sporran and applied it to her bleeding arm. “I told ye his name suits him.” After a few moments, he lifted the material and ran his finger gently over the wound. “The bleeding has stopped.”

  The mere touch of his hand made Ceana’s skin tingle, and she was suddenly conscious of where his warm flesh touched hers. The pain in her arm had turned to a dull ache, and all she was aware of was her racing heart. She was also having a difficult time catching her breath. That was the instant she knew she needed to return home.

  The hawk had made her ill.

  She pulled her arm from his grasp and took a step away. “Pray excuse me. I’m nae feeling verra well.”