Dragon's Moon (6 page)

After seeing what the royal family of the Éan did for their people, Lais wasn't sure he agreed. Besides, Scotland's king had less sway in the Highlands than with the Lowland clans. “Laird Sinclair only submits to King David when he wants to.”

“He is a Highland laird and Chrechte as well.” Ciara gave Lais an almost-there smile. “How could it be any other way?”

He chuckled. “It could not.”

“And your prince? Does he intend to submit to Laird Talorc?” There was very real worry tingeing her tone now.

“As clan leader, yes.”

“As pack leader?”

“Only wolves belong to packs. Birds are flocks and ours knows no clan boundaries.”

“That won't be easy.”

“Eirik is aware.” Anya-Gra had not let the prince forget it, voicing her concerns right up until the Éan left the forest, each of three groups taking a different direction.

“Why don't you call him prince?”

“Because I am his friend.”

Ciara recoiled.

Lais sighed. “Eirik is no murderer.”

“That is your opinion.”

“It is yours as well, when you are thinking clearly.”

“Thank you for telling me my innermost thoughts.”

“I understand wanting to believe those you hold dear are good people…and having to accept when you realize they were not.”

“My brother
was
a good person. He was deceived.”

“Do you enjoy your life among the Sinclairs?” he asked, refusing to continue such an argument.

She might well be right. He knew what it was to be deceived. Would her brother have shifted his thinking if exposed to the truth? There was no answer to that quandary in the violence of the past.

“Laird Talorc and Abigail have been very kind to me.”

“You live with the laird?” Lais asked with surprise and humor he made no attempt to mask.

Eirik had agreed to make his home in the keep until the Éan were settled amidst the clan.

“I have a room next to their children.”

That was an interesting way of putting it. She could have said that she was part of the family, or treated like family, but she avoided doing so.

It probably made Lais a bad friend, but he could not help looking forward to the times to come with Eirik and Ciara under the same roof.

There was something there. Lais had never seen Eirik shift so fast and not once into a dragon in front of his people.

Eirik kept the dragon private and Lais thought he was probably the only Éan who understood why.

Everyone else speculated it had something to do with the power or pride of the dragon, but Lais knew Eirik feared his dragon as much as he embraced it. To burn another Chrechte to ash was not an easy event to carry on one's conscience.

“Eirik killed your brother in protection of the young of our race, but he saved your life this night. Will you let that go unremarked in your bitterness?”

Ciara jerked so hard she almost fell off her horse but shook her head. “No. I would tell him of my appreciation.” A moment of silence passed. “I am not bitter.”

“Good.” He thought about what he had to say next. “You can show your genuine appreciation and continue to maintain the secret of Eirik's dragon.”

“Laird Talorc does not know he is a dragon?” Ciara asked, anxiety coloring her voice and making her heart quicken.

“Aye, he does, but others do not. It is a closely guarded secret.”

“Because of Faol like Wirp and Luag.”

“Aye.”

“Perhaps news of such a being would frighten them off.”

“Or make Eirik the greatest target to them all.”

“I will not betray his secret.”

“Thank you.”

She was silent as they entered the lower bailey, the only clan there to meet them the night guard who spoke in low tones with Eirik before sending a young soldier running toward the keep.

E
irik's people had all dismounted and gathered their belongings by the time the Sinclair made it down the hill from the keep. His hair stuck up as if he'd been drawn from his bed and he wore only a sword and his kilt.

Nevertheless, he was smiling. “I'm glad you and your people have finally made it.” Like the friend that he was, the Sinclair reached out and pulled Eirik in a warrior's embrace.

Eirik returned it before stepping back. “I did not mean to pull you from your bed.”

“It happens.” The Sinclair gave the shrug Eirik knew could irritate the man's wife, Abigail, no end.

“We were going to camp outside the wall.” Eirik let some censure bleed into his voice. “I saw the drawbridge was down, so changed my plan.”

The smile the Sinclair gave was smug. “I had a feeling you would be here tonight.”

“The security of your people is more important than a little inconvenience.”

Instead of taking umbrage at Eirik's clear censure, Talorc merely let his grin grow wider. “You are all my people now, too. Abigail insisted you would feel more
welcome
if the drawbridge was down.”

“You allow your lady to dictate in matters of clan security?” Eirik asked with no little shock.

“You know Abigail.” But there was something in the Sinclair's voice and then he looked over Eirik's shoulder.

Eirik turned his head to see a group of warriors entering the lower bailey as the sound of the drawbridge being lifted could be heard.

“You had a guard on watch outside the walls.”

“Of course.”

Eirik almost smiled. “It seems your life is filled with headstrong women, but you know how to handle them for the most part.”

“Women?” Talorc asked with a puzzled frown that went dark as he seemed to comprehend all that Eirik had said.
“For the most part?”

Eirik indicated the woman Lais had been referring to as Ciara. The prince had heard her tell Lais she lived in the keep. He had not missed his second's amusement at that fact, either.

The Sinclair bellowed, “What in the hell is Ciara doing down here in the middle of the night?”

The woman in question jumped and then bit her lip before giving a small wave to her laird. The Sinclair did not look amused, nor did he look particularly surprised.

Eirik doubted the other man would take the rest of his ward's exploits with the same equanimity. “A better question might be: what was she doing on top of the west tower?”

Clearly able to hear them, though she stood several feet away, Ciara glared at Eirik as if he had betrayed her most bosom-held secret. He let his own disapproval show in the look he returned her.

If she had expected him to keep her dangerous actions from her laird, she was not only deluded about her brother—the woman was a fool.

The Sinclair's eyes began to glow with the wolf's light and the scent of his fury was so strong, Eirik wasn't sure the pack alpha would not shift right there. His own dragon roared for a chance to come out.

“Ciara was
on top
?” Talorc asked with deadly quiet.

“Until she fell.”

Talorc did not ask Eirik to repeat himself. He did not question how Ciara came to be in the lower bailey now, in one piece. He simply turned toward the tower and bellowed a man's name.

Seconds later a guard came running up, breathless and pale with fear. “Yes, laird?”

“My daughter was on top of your tower.”

“C-Ciara, laird?”

“Do I have another one I do not know about?”

“N-no, of course not, Alpha. It's just that, I didn't…she didn't…how did she…” Clearly overcome by too many questions and no answers his laird was going to accept, the guard's voice trailed off. “How did she get off, sir?” the hapless guard was foolish enough to make as his one complete sentence.

“She fell.”

Grief mixed with fear and the guard dropped to his knees. “I'm so sorry, Alpha.” He offered his neck for whatever the other wolf meant to do.

“She lives.” The Sinclair shook his head, his fury still strong, but a resignation about it.

Eirik lifted one brow in question.

The laird sighed and it was not a happy sound. “She is far too adept at masking her scent.”

“She's sneaky.”

“Aye.” Talorc sounded proud, despite his anger.

“How does she live?” the guard asked with a fair amount of trepidation.

Talorc turned his anger back on the still-kneeling guard. “Our new clansman saved her.” His tone and manner implied it should not have been necessary.

The guard seemed oblivious in his shock. The look of awe and respect he gave Eirik surprised him, but not as much as the gratitude wafting off the young wolf's skin. He bowed his head to Eirik. “Thank you.”

“You have a personal interest in the laird's daughter?”

The guard's eyes widened in fear as he slid a sideways glance toward his laird and then the huge blond man who had silently joined them just as Eirik had told the Sinclair of his adopted daughter's exploits. Niall, Talorc's second, glared at the guard with death in his eyes.

The young wolf vehemently shook his head. “Nay, 'tis just that she is favored by many in our clan.”

Niall nodded as did the Sinclair, but Eirik noted both men gave the guard matching looks of warning.

Dreaming of a tomorrow, which tomorrow, will be as distant then as 'tis today.

—L
OPE
DE
V
EGA

T
he Sinclair dismissed his guard with instructions to do better in future or risk losing his ability to procreate.

The wolf's clear acceptance of the threat as truth and fear because of it left a sour stench in the air after he was gone.

Talorc grasped forearms with Eirik. “Thank you for saving my daughter.”

“She is clan now.”

“Aye.”

The object of their discussion chose that moment to come up to them. Ciara looked up at the man who called himself her father. “Laird Talorc, I am sorry for the trouble I caused.”

Eirik was shocked to note the Sinclair mask his fury and his demeanor turn gentle. “It is all right, Ciara. I know you did not mean to cause grief.”

“I didn't. I thought I would return to the keep and no one would be the wiser.”

This was supposed to placate her laird? Her belief she could get away with it and thus cause no worry to others?

“I saw you,” Eirik corrected her. “Others could have as well.”

“No, they could not,” she disagreed in a soft but firm voice, her tone far too certain.

“You cannot know that.”

She just shrugged, the movement so like her adopted father that the corner of Eirik's mouth curved in an almost smile. But then, the truth hit him. She could only be so certain in one circumstance.

“You've been up there before. Many times. And never been caught.”

She glared at him, this time her expression leaving no doubt she had not expected that truth to be revealed. The anxious glance she slid toward Talorc said as much as well.

The laird frowned, some of his fury leaking through to scent the air around them as his demeanor lost a bit of its patient calm. “Is this true?”

Ciara bit her lip, clearly deciding whether or not to tell the truth. How interesting that she even considering lying to her pack alpha, much less laird. Did she think she could get away with it? Could she mask more than her scent?

Finally, she nodded. “It's peaceful. Quiet.”

“Ciara.”
The exasperation in Talorc's voice was laced with weariness. “I'm going to have to tell Abigail. She will wring her hands with worry. She will cry.”

The laird made it sound like such an eventuality was the worst possible outcome.

From Ciara's expression, she agreed with that assessment. “No, please. You cannot tell her. She already worries too much.”

“She loves you.”

Ciara shook her head. And like before, Eirik got the distinct impression she wasn't arguing her laird's words, but trying to negate their impact.

“Please, laird.”

“Promise me you will not do it again and I won't tell her. I'll know the problem is no longer there for her to worry about.”

Eirik wondered how Talorc intended to keep anyone
else from telling his wife and then realized, he probably had no intention of doing so. In fact, he was probably counting on someone letting the information slip.

“I promise.”

“What do you promise?” Eirik asked, when Talorc did not press for clarification.

Again, Ciara glared at him.

He simply stared back, waiting for her answer.

The Sinclair gave Eirik a look of respect and then turned one of expectation on Ciara.

She frowned, but then said, “Not to climb up on top of the west tower again.”

Talorc smiled and nodded, looking pleased.

Eirik simply shook his head. It was clear that while Talorc was a smart man when dealing with his strong-headed females, he had not lived his life with a sister like Sabrine.