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“You go first,” Kieran growled, wary of yet another trap. Following Ellis into the warm, brightly lit chamber, he scanned it quickly, taking in the only inhabitants, a red-haired woman in a black robe and an old man propped up in bed.
“Please, please don’t hurt him.” Laurel’s nails dug into his flesh through the woolen tunic.
Kieran’s heart contracted as though she’d reached inside and clenched it. “I do what I must,” he mumbled, nearly dropping her in his haste to be free of this strange effect she had on him. Yet when she swayed, he reached out to steady her. After he let go of her hand and turned toward the bed he noted that, without her to fill them, his arms felt as empty as his soul had these past years. Nay, she wasn’t for him. No female was. Anger rasped in his voice as he demanded of Duncan, “Why did you ambush me?”
“’Twas a foolish mistake, naught more.” The old man smiled, but pain lined his leathery face. Though older and grayer, he looked much as Kieran’s grandsire had when he’d been brought low by a sword thrust...proud and unbowed in the face of death.
Damn. Kieran passed a hand over his face, but it couldn’t wipe away the memories. An unwanted lump rose in his throat. Damn. Damn. What was it about these people that made him remember things he’d sworn to forget?
“Pour him a bit of whiskey, Nessie,” Duncan said cheerfully. “The lad looks done in by our lass’s reception.”
Kieran welcomed the anger that drove out the soft sentiments. “Someone will pay for the attack on me.” He put on his fiercest mask and advanced on Duncan, only to be halted when Laurel moved to block his path. “Stand aside,” he growled.
“And leave my grandfather to your mercy? Nay.”
“Think you I’d strike a wounded man?”
“You assaulted me...a lone, defenseless woman.”
“Defenseless? Defenseless!” He leaned close, his breath hot on her face. “’Twas you ambushed me. And struck me unconscious.”
“That was Geordie,” Laurel yelled back, hands on hips, jaw tilted up to meet the aggressive edge of his cleft chin. “And only because you were shaking the living daylights out of me.”
“I thought I was protecting myself from a man.”
“And Geordie was protecting me.”
“Now that’s settled, here’s yer whiskey.” Her aunt thrust a cup between them. “’Twill chase the dust from yer throat.”
“’Tis not settled,” Kieran snapped, but he took the cup.
Someone had taught him manners, for he muttered a brief thanks. Laurel had hoped to goad him into acting the barbarian. He certainly had the look of one with that stubbled jaw and unruly black hair to match his temper.
“Ye’re most welcome, Sir Kieran,” her aunt cooed.
Was everyone blind to his threat but her? Laurel wondered. It seemed so, for her grandfather began making soothing noises.
“’Twas a mistake. The lass mistook ye for reivers. We’ve dire need of yer aid, lad,” Duncan said. “Draw up a chair and I’ll tell ye what we know of the fiends who did this to me”
Pity flickered in Kieran’s eyes. Wary, but less angry, he did as her grandfather bade.
Laurel repaired to a stool by the hearth to think things over. She still wanted Kieran gone from Edin, but there was something about him that confused her.
“What is it about Kieran that riles ye?” Nesta whispered.
Laurel flinched. “He’s an outsider, like Aulay.”
“Mmm. But he doesn’t look or act like Aulay Kerr.”
“He acts a dozen times worse.”
“I think there’s more to it than that,” Nesta whispered. “Tell me about this dream of yers.” She sat quietly while Laurel poured out the details of the vision and her frustration with not being able to understand it. “It takes time to learn to work the power ye’ve been given.”
“Did it take you a long time?”
“Nay, I was a lass when I did my first conjuring, but—”
“Then I’m hopeless.” Laurel hung her head.
“Never that. The dreams are different than the conjuring is all. Yer great-grandmam had them. I recall my mother saying old Nell had difficulty learning to make sense of her visions.”
“How did she do it?”
Nesta took Laurel’s icy hands in her warm ones. “First ye must come to terms with yer heritage, grow comfortable with it.”
“What if I never do?”
“’Twould be a loss,” Nesta murmured. “When I’m gone, our people will have need of yer special skills. But there’s time yet. Ye’re a MacLellan. We women have always had the gift”
Laurel nodded absently. “If you think of something that might help...some way I could learn to control my dreams.”
“Aye.” A shadow crossed her face. “Though I want ye to develop yer gift, it has its dark side. Ye already know there are superstitious souls who fear me even while they seek the answers to their questions. Worse is looking into the future and seeing the death of a loved one.”
“Or sensing danger and not knowing its source,” Laurel whispered. Why had she dreamed of Kieran? Not once, but many times, each one bringing him closer till she’d finally seen him clearly. Seen his hunger and yearning. What was it he wanted?
“Laurel. Come here, lass,” her grandfather called.
Laurel jerked her head around, and her gaze slammed into Kieran’s. Cold as winter frost, it bored into her, freezing her to the marrow. Gone was all trace of the man who’d held her earlier, eyes hot with a passion that had sparked her own. Here was a warrior devoid of warmth or gentleness. ’Tis what he was destined to be. The insight startled and confused her.
“Go on, dearling.” Her aunt released her hands. “We’ll talk more of this later. I’m glad yon knight has come here. He looks fierce enough to defend us from the devil himself.”
Laurel grudgingly agreed, but as she hurried to the other side of the bed, ’twas Duncan she watched. The color excitement had lent to his skin couldn’t hide the circles under his eyes nor the fatigue in them. “You should rest now, Grandda.”
“Aye,” he said faintly. “I’m that tired, but I’ve a favor I’d ask of ye first before I can sleep.”
Laurel’s nerves went on alert. Duncan never, ever admitted to weakness or talked in that one-foot-in-the-grave voice except when he wanted to coerce her into something. “What?” Warily.
“Kieran desires to ride over Edin Valley and look to our defenses. And I can think of no better guide than ye, lass.”
“Nay!” Kieran exclaimed.
Laurel glared at him over the rumpled bed. How dare he refuse before she could? “Ellis knows the land better than I do.”
“But ’tis ye’ve been seeing my orders were carried out,” Duncan said smoothly. Too smoothly. He was up to something.
“She has?” Kieran’s scathing glance raked Laurel from head to waist and back up. She had a wholly feminine urge to smooth back the curls that had come free from her braid and brush the dirt from her baggy, cast-off tunic.
“Aye. She’s a braw lassie,” her grandsire said proudly.
Kieran’s lip curled. “Females have no business being about men’s work.”
“Defending the clan is everyone’s duty,” she replied.
“You haven’t the skills to—”
“I had skills enough to capture you.”
Kieran’s face turned a satisfying shade of red, and his mouth compressed into a hard line.
Her grandfather made a sound halfway between a choke and a cough. “Well, now. The less said about that, the better, I’m thinking. ’Twas just an honest mistake. All our nerves have been on edge, what with the raiders lurking about.”
“No need to make excuses for my behavior. And the only mistake that’s been made is hiring him,” Laurel replied. She turned on her heel and stalked from the room.
“I’d prefer to ride out on my own,” Kieran said stiffly.
“But ye’ll be needing someone to explain what ye see. And there’s no one knows Edin better than Laurel. Been riding the length and breadth of the valley for years.”
“Without benefit of bath or comb, from the looks,” Kieran muttered. “Very well, then. The sooner I see the lay of the land, the sooner I can set a trap for the raiders. As I said afore, they’re likely outlaws or deserters who came upon Edin and saw an opportunity for quick profit.”
Duncan nodded. “My thinking exactly, but I lacked the battle-trained men to confront them.”
“We’ll make quick work of them,” Kieran promised, then he cleared his throat. “As to money. I receive half the agreed-to fee in advance, the rest when the reivers have been killed.”
“Mayhap ye might waive the advance, since I’m a friend of yer family, so to speak.”
Kieran flinched and his gaze became even more distant and frigid. “I don’t have any family.”
“Was Lion Carmichael not yer sire?”
“So I was told.”
“And ye’re the spitting image of old Lionel Carmichael.”
“How do you know that?”
“We were fostered together. Fell in love with the same lass, we did. George Murray’s daughter, Carina. She is yer grandmam?”
“Aye.” This time Duncan detected a crack in Kieran’s stone facade. So, ho. He still cared for his grandmother. “But I expect half payment before I start a task.”
Disaster. Faced with it, Duncan fell back on the surest of weapons. He shifted in bed and groaned as though he’d ripped out every one of the scores of stitches Nesta had taken putting him back together again. Bless her, she flew to his side.
“What is it, Da?” she cried. To which he made a gurgling, inarticulate reply. “If ye’ll leave us, Sir Kieran, I fear my father’s overextended himself... as usual.”
“Of course.” Kieran quit the room in a flash.
“Ye can stop the moaning and thrashing about now, ye old fraud,” Nesta said when the door closed. “Else ye really will pull loose my fine needlework.”
Duncan went limp. Lord, he was tired, but there was still so much to do. If only he could get up and see to things himself.
“Don’t even think on it.”
He opened one eye. “I wasn’t...exactly.” He stayed quiet while Nesta fussed with his pillows and fetched him a cup of wine...laced with a sleeping powder, if he knew his lass. And he did. “What’s troubling ye?”
“Ye laid up with more thread in ye than a fine lady’s wedding gown. Greedy thieves baying at our door, and he wants to know what’s wrong.” She threw up her hands.
Duncan wasn’t fooled. “’Tis Laurel.”
“Aye, well. ’Tis a heavy burden she’s shouldered.”
“And now I’ve taken steps to relieve her of it, only look how she’s acting,” he grumbled. “Ye’d think young Kieran was our enemy the way she’s set againt him.”
“To her, the fact he’s an outsider’s reason enough.”
“Curse Aulay Kerr.” Duncan drained the cup and grimaced. “He’s a year dead, though.”
“But not forgotten...at least by Laurel.”
“What she needs is another man to take her mind from the one what did her wrong.” His daughter made one of those infuriating female sounds. “What does that mean?”
“Only that I think ye’ve already found Aulay’s replacement.”
“What if I have?”
“They don’t seem to get on overly well.”
An understatement, that. And a pity, for it put a hitch in Duncan’s plans. “He’s a strong lad, not uncomely to look upon and he comes of good stock.” The best, as far as he was concerned.
“He’s estranged from his kin, which doesn’t speak well.”
“There’s usually more to such things than meets the eye,” Duncan said cryptically, knowing ‘twas true in this case. He was glad he hadn’t told anyone how he’d known where to find Kieran. Bitter as the lad was, ’twouldn’t do for him to learn his new employer had been secretly wooing his grandmother from afar.
“He seems a cold man. Not at all the sort to cherish our Laurel or appreciate her loving nature. When he isn’t glaring at her, he stomps around like a bee-stung bull.”
“So would I if a lass bested me as Laurel did him. But ’twill sort itself out,” Duncan murmured as he felt an herbal haze settle over him. He’d sleep a bit, then pen a message to Carina and send Thomas on his way with it.
“What of the coin Kieran expects to have of ye?”
Duncan groaned. ‘Twas what came of making the womenfolk privy to your business. They stuck their noses in where you least wanted them. Laurel was a prime example. Fancy capturing young Kieran so she could prove he wasn’t worthy of hiring. Duncan smiled. He’d have given much to witness that set-to. ’Twas clear Kieran had inherited his grandsire’s hot temper, but he’d also learned to control it, else he’d have taken the flat of his hand to Laurel, and likely gotten the edge of her knee in return.
Aye, they’d lead each other a merry chase. But he had hopes as to the outcome. “Young Kieran’ll get his due...eventually.”
“He wants half now. When he discovers ye don’t have the silver, he’ll ride away again.”
“I’ll just have to find something else to keep him here,” Duncan replied sleepily. He wasn’t worried. Men had gone to war over the kind of passion he’d seen brewing in Kieran Sutherland’s violet eyes when he looked at Laurel. Aye, he’d write to Carina and tell her things were shaping up better than they’d hoped.
Chapter Three
Still smarting from Kieran’s set-down and her grandfather’s orders to accompany the wretch on his inspection tour, Laurel sought refuge in the stables. There, in the back corner, Freda had decided to birth her five pups. Half wolf, half hound, they were the one bright spot in a sea of misery. At the moment, they slept peacefully, bellies bloated with the milk that still clung to their muzzles. Their mother lay nearby, her head on her paws.
