Highland Seer (32 page)

He’d been a fool. Too certain her station put her so far above his that he could never be a match for her. Too loyal to a clan that valued him highly, though he knew Toran and Aileana would cheer to see him happy and would never stand in his way. Too stubborn in his beliefs to accept the love she offered. Aye, a fool. But no longer. Ellie would be his, and he hers. And her clan’s. They needed him now more than the Aerie did. There was no question about that. And this fierce, proud, wild woman wanted him by her side—forever. How could he refuse? He’d learned his lesson. It had taken a close call—a crack on the head by Lowlander bandits and nearly arriving too late to save Ellie from the MacDuff’s rough clutches, but in the end, he’d done what he set out to do. He’d kept her safe. Now he had to make her forget her fear and loathing for the man who’d meant to claim her without her consent. He’d love her pain away. Love joy back into her heart, possibly for the first time since she’d become laird. He’d help carry her burdens, lighten her load, and keep her people safe. Or he’d die trying.

But now was no time to think about dying. Life awaited him. Life and a future he relished, with this woman at his side. He had been awed to give her release, to hold her trust and love in his hands and know she’d allowed him to see her at her most vulnerable, to make her that vulnerable. Aye, she needed him, and wanted him. It was a gift that humbled him.

And made him crazed. Taking a deep breath, Donal stretched out on the bed and pulled Ellie into his arms. They had time enough to take this slowly, though he craved their joining more than anything he’d ever wanted. Sated, she lay her head on his shoulder and her palm on his chest, lightly running her fingertips across his nipple, shooting fire down his belly and making his cock vibrate with need.

He pulled her onto his chest so he could kiss her thoroughly. Instead of merely allowing his kiss, Ellie straddled him, resting her bottom against his straining shaft. It was all he could do to keep himself under control as she bent to kiss him, brushing her nipples across his chest as she moved.

Donal’s chest rose to meet her as his mouth claimed hers again and again. Then he lifted her up and suckled, first one firm breast, then the other, making Ellie groan and writhe. Donal could wait no longer. He urged Ellie’s bottom up and guided her over his shaft.

“Ach, aye, there. ’Tis up to ye how it goes,” he told her, expecting her to slide slowly over his erection, taking and testing little by little. Instead, she slid down and seated him fully within her moist heat, wrenching an oath from Donal that originated in his balls.

Then she started moving, lifting and lowering until he could no more hold still than stop breathing. His hips rocked and set their rhythm while her gaze bored into his, questing, loving, challenging. Aye, she knew exactly what she was doing to him. Paying him back for all the times he’d refused her. Showing him what he’d missed. Making him lose control as he had done to her in the moments before this. The bigger he got, the more she clamped down on him, wrapping him like a glove, squeezing until there was no room left in his mind, his heart, his soul, for anything but her. He erupted, and as he lost himself in the wave of sensation, he saw Ellie smile.

She stretched out on his chest, still holding him within her body, until he came back to himself.

“We’re to be like that?” he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face. “Tinder and a spark into flames fit to burn down the keep?”

“Oh, aye, I hope so,” Ellie replied, scooting down a bit to keep him fully within her.

With a growl, Donal rolled them until he lay on top, up to the hilt in her moist heat, ready again. Then he moved, just once, out then back in, and Ellie arched to meet him, her breasts an offering he couldn’t refuse. He bent to suckle while he built their rhythm then kissed his way up her throat to her luscious mouth. She gripped his backside, pulling him deeper into her body, her nails scoring his skin. He rocked them, capturing her breath with his own, until she gasped out his name and came apart under him. Only then did he explode, wrapping his arms around her and holding her to him as if she were the only thing that would keep him connected to this earth.

Chapter 21

Laird’s justice. That’s what the clan called it. Ellie hoped she had the wherewithal to dispense it fairly and without rancor. Micheil stood by her side in the great hall. Donal, not yet officially the MacKyrie consort, stood across from her and to one side, with Jamie nearby, lending his calm presence to this difficult and distasteful undertaking. She must interrogate the lads on duty and make them admit who had opened the gates two nights ago. Two nights? Aye, one spent in fear and loathing, anticipating the worst from Lachlan MacDuff. And last night? Ach, how different could two nights, two men, be?

She and Donal had loved each other, explored and learned and teased and, oh, her face must be flaming. Jamie had a very amused grin on his face. Donal had started to fidget under Jamie’s sidelong scrutiny. Imagine that. Donal fidgeting. If she wasn’t seated in front of her entire clan as laird, she might have laughed. But, aye, Jamie kenned why she blushed. And Donal paid the price for her lack of control. Not that he could complain, having lost his control so completely last night. Her soon-to-be husband. Ach, stop!

As unpleasant as this might be, she had to keep her thoughts on the task at hand. She dared not glance Donal’s way again.

Laird! She must be laird. So she would.

The door opened then and half a dozen lads trooped in. Older lads, who had been subject to Donal’s tutelage and were now subject to their laird’s justice. If it be called for. She hoped not. Why would they have opened the secured gate, unless an adult had told them to do it? But who? No one had come forward in the time since the MacDuff and his men had taken over the keep, and none since they’d been vanquished—killed, or turned out with weapons to defend themselves but without mounts, to carry the news back to their clan on foot. They would get there, but it would take them days.

She hid her clenched fist in the folds of her skirt. These lads must be made to understand they could not protect the person who’d done this terrible thing. The consequences had been too dire, and save for the Lathans, would have meant her death and the destruction of her clan, if not right away, then eventually. The person who’d ordered the gate opened had conspired with the MacDuff and betrayed his laird and his clan. The penalty was death. She must force herself to impose it.

Donal had wanted the wedding right away, this morning, but she had to do this first. Before the MacDuffs returned to avenge their losses, she had to know who in her clan could betray her. Only then could she and the clan put MacDuff’s invasion behind them and move forward to a happy occasion like a wedding. The laird’s wedding. She fought back a smile at the thought of it. Her wedding—to the man she loved and wanted. But nay, she must clear this worry from her mind before joining with Donal. The doubt and the anger plaguing her now would have prevented the sacred joy a wedding in the kirk—a true wedding in the kirk—deserved.

She had to deal with the betrayer, and the pain of betrayal, first.

The lads stood in a group before her. Silent, solemn. Did they know why they were here? Had Micheil told them? Or merely summoned them to their laird’s presence? She glanced his way. Micheil nodded, but said nothing. It was not his place to do so.

Rather, he bowed to her and went to the lads. Ach, of course, as captain of the guard, he bore responsibility for the watch. Ellie approved of his honorable act, standing with the lads. She saw Fergus’s nod from his place near the hearth. Then another thought occurred to her. Did Micheil stand with them to share their punishment because he was the one who had ordered the gate opened? Her breath froze in her throat. Not Micheil. He would not have betrayed her. He loved her. He’d been her friend all her life. Tried to defend her from the MacDuff and been wounded for his efforts.

But what if he was the one she sought? He had tried to convince her to consider the MacDuff. Had he been in league with MacDuff the whole time? Could she order the death of her oldest friend? She swallowed. Ellie could not. Laird MacKyrie might have to.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Donal shift his weight. She tore her gaze from Micheil to glance his way. He studied the lads and Micheil as if trying to scry the truth from their faces and postures before they said a word. Had the same horrible thought crossed his mind? He knew Micheil’s worth to her.

She fought to keep her demeanor calm though her pulse pounded and tears gathered behind her eyes. She must not cry. If she must condemn her friend, she would do him the honor of behaving as laird. She could cry later.

She cleared her throat. It was time to begin.

“Do ye ken why ye’re here?” Even though she kept her voice low and calm, it nearly cracked.

“Aye.” Most of the lads nodded. One shook his head, nay.

“I must ask ye a difficult question,” she continued in answer to the one lad’s unspoken question, sitting straighter. “I expect a full and honest answer from each of ye. One at a time.”

The lads nodded. Micheil kept his eyes front, focused somewhere over her shoulder. Ach, God. Not Micheil. Maybe no one had ordered the gates opened. Maybe the lads hadn’t understood how dire the situation had been and had opened the gate as they always did when travelers came calling. Maybe Micheil stood with them to take the blame for their mistake.

Movement toward the back of the hall distracted her. Ah, the last stragglers. Cook and Sawney and a few more lads. They must’ve found the lads wandering the halls and brought them, as she’d ordered the entire clan to be here as witness to the laird’s justice.

“Ye must tell yer laird and yer clan who ordered ye to open the gates the night before last. I’ll have the truth from each of ye. Who?”

A low rumble of voices started in the hall. Ellie saw several of the late lads shift closer to the adults they’d arrived with. Worried for their friends, were they? So was she.

“Who, lads?”

Still they didn’t speak. Finally, Micheil tore his gaze from the wall behind her and turned to them. “Tell the laird, lads. Ye must. She deserves to ken the truth. ’Twas no’ yer fault.”

Oh, nay. Micheil had ordered them to betray him. He had been the one. Ellie’s throat closed. Her heart breaking, she started to stand, but Donal shook his head. Wait.

The oldest lad spoke first. “’Twas Sawney, Laird.”

The breath gushed out of her lungs. Sawney? Not Micheil? For a moment, she didn’t understand what she’d heard. Then it hit her. Not Micheil. She inhaled and looked to the back of the room as the other lads repeated the word.

“Sawney.”

“Sawney.”

“Sawney.”

The crowd parted. The lads whom she’d thought gathered up and forced to the hall by her cook and steward were instead ushering Sawney forward, a phalanx around him he could not escape if he tried. Which he did not do. They kept him moving until they reached the rest of the lads and Micheil, then they stopped.

Cook stood at the back of the hall, tears streaming down her face, shaking her head. Nay, she’d not known. But she and Sawney had worked together for years. This must pain her much as it did Ellie. Fergus looked on with his disgust plainly written on his face. Aye, Sawney’s treachery had harmed many more than Ellie.

Micheil, as grim as she’d ever seen him, turned to confront the clan’s steward. Ellie allowed it. Sawney had subverted his watch that night. Micheil had the right to speak first.

“Ye stand accused, Sawney MacKyrie, of betraying yer clan and yer laird by ordering these young watchstanders to open the keep’s gates to an invader. Do ye admit it?”

Sawney drew himself up, oaken straight, stiff and hard as the glare on his face. For a moment, Ellie was sure he would deny it, despite having been named by each of the lads facing him. Then he crumpled. Micheil grabbed his arm to keep him from falling to his knees. Donal started to go to his aid, but Ellie raised a hand, holding him in place.

Sawney must speak, aye or nay. She would hear it from him before anyone else moved.

“Aye, lass,” Sawney whispered. “’Twas I.” Then he straightened and his voice strengthened. “Because I thought it the best for the MacKyries. We need a strong man as laird, like yer da and his before him. So things can get back to the way they were before Flodden. We were a proud clan. A prosperous clan. Now look at us.”

Every word lashed her as surely as a whip to her back. He’d betrayed them to the MacDuff because she was too weak to protect them.

Donal’s gaze bored into her as if to say, Ignore him. Ye have a strong man now. I’m here. His green eyes were narrowed, intense in their regard of her. Ye are laird. He said it without words, but his confidence in her gave her the strength she needed. Jamie also watched closely, nodding, lending his support. Her clan was silent, still, shocked.

“Aye, Sawney,” she said, gathering herself and rising to her feet. He was wrong. “Look at us. We have allies, more than ever in the clan’s history. We have wise old men to guide us. Lads growing into strong young warriors. We have land, a strong keep, clean water. Cattle. And whisky.” She emphasized each word, her voice echoing from the back of the hall, then softened her tone. “Have ye forgotten?” She took a step toward him, but stopped as the old man blanched. “Did ye think on what we had before ye decided what we lacked was more important?”

She took the steps necessary to stand in front of him. Micheil moved behind Sawney, ready to aid him, or prevent him from moving against his laird, should he be so foolish as to attempt it with Donal and Jamie also close at hand. Sawney kept his head down, refusing to meet her gaze.

Her heart broke at his betrayal. This old man, among all the others, had been a key part of the clan since before she was born. But perhaps that gave her the excuse she needed to spare his life. She stepped closer and took his hand in hers. A sob at the back of the room echoed around the hall. She ignored it. She had to, or she’d be crying, too.

“Yer motives were good, man,” Ellie continued. “I canna fault ye for acting for what ye thought was the good of the clan. Ye always have. Ye have served Clan MacKyrie well since the time of my grandsire. But Sawney, ’twas no’ true. Ye were wrong to think the MacDuff would be good for us. He wouldha broken up the clan, put MacDuffs in this hall. MacKyrie wouldha ceased to exist. He wouldha killed me eventually, if not by bearing his children, then by the knife or the sword or a tragic fall down the stairs. And these lasses ye see here, mothers and daughters, he wouldha taken them all, he and his men, used them most brutally, and made them slaves to MacDuffs. He was that kind of man. Is that what ye wanted for yer clan?”