And then he saw her. Right there. She was stretched out on the ground in the grassy shade of a rowan tree, propped on one elbow, a book open before her. The first thing he noticed was the look of near rapture on her face as she carefully turned each page. Then he noticed the soft curve of her hip and the long lines of her body. She pushed her hair back over her shoulder. Unbound except for a small twist on each side, it was long and thick and the color of sunshine. Bren couldn’t help it; he stared. Drust had been wrong when he said the lass was bonny. She was beautiful, exquisite. He could not take his eyes off of her.
He wanted her at once, in a most visceral way. Some kind of strange feeling flooded through him, tightening his chest, and his manhood. He didn’t know what it was, but the feeling put him on edge so much that he gritted his teeth. He had felt something shift inside of him, and suddenly he was the hunter and she was the prey. He wanted the lass in his bed.
She sighed and stretched, and still he watched her, mesmerized… until suddenly she looked up, alert, eyes scanning the trees. She had sensed him there, felt his eyes on her. He must have let his cover slip for a moment. He scowled. It was not like him to make mistakes like that, however slight.
Annoyed at himself, he broke the strange connection he had felt with her and moved away through the trees, as silently as he had come. But he was not done with this lass. Something about her just wasn’t… usual.
Faith had felt someone watching her, felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise in warning. She might have sensed it earlier, if she hadn’t been so engrossed in the book she foundin the cottage. She couldn’t read the words, but the pictures of plants and animals were breathtaking. All hand drawn, all perfectly detailed. She scanned the edge of the woods again. She couldn’t see anyone, but the feeling had been so intense, so jarring, that she got up and went into the cottage, latching the door tightly behind her.
Even safe within the four sturdy walls, she could not settle down. There had been something or someone out there, she knew it. Someone… unsettling. Dangerous. She did not go out again. Instead she put the book carefully back on the shelf and searched the cottage from floor to ceiling. She found nothing that could tell her any more than she already knew. In fact there was not much more than the jars and books and a single trunk full of clothing and one extra wool blanket. There wasn’t even any food beyond the lunch of bread and meat Dirc had left her. He must go to the keep for all of his meals, she supposed.
When he finally returned late that afternoon, she was sitting by the fire, lost in thought. She told him what had happened, how she had felt someone watching her and how the intensity of the feeling had sent her running inside. Now, telling Dirc, she felt a bit silly. Maybe she had just let her imagination run away from her, after all. It was probably no more than a deer or a hawk, if anything at all.
But Dirc listened intently to her story, and oddly, she thought she saw a look of deep satisfaction in his eyes. She must be reading him wrong again, he had said he wanted her to be safe, not stalked. Or… maybe nothing here was as it seemed, after all, she didn’t know Dirc at all, really. She would have to have her guard up at all times until she discovered the truth. He wanted her here, he had brought her here. There must be a reason, but she still had no idea what that reason could be.
***
Bren motioned to a guardsman, who hurried to his side, eager to do the laird’s bidding. The Laird of Creagmor, Chief of the Mac Coinnach Clan was both feared and respected by all of his men. He wasn’t cruel, but he was powerful, and he was just. No one crossed him and did not suffer for it in the end. Even so, countless men willingly gave him their complete loyalty. He was the kind of man that drew others to his side without even trying. He possessed an aura of magnetism and a natural strength of character that made him a natural-born leader.
“Find Dirc McInnes as soon as he returns from Ingarry and bring him to me in my study. Tell him there is something we must discuss. I’m quite certain he’ll be expecting my summons.”
Bren went to the study to wait, and to think, pouring a tumbler of ale and sipping at it impatiently, then pacing between the fireplace and the tall windows of the east wall as he pondered. He couldn’t figure out for the life of him why such a small matter of his lust for a beautiful woman had his emotions running so high. Contrary to the outward impression most people had of him as a hard, cold warrior and mighty chief of his clan, Bren was a man who felt things very deeply, and at times struggled to control his hot blooded and passionate nature. But this… unease… he felt was different somehow. After all, Dirc had done many such ridiculous things in the past and it had hardly been more than a mild annoyance. This felt as if…as if his life was about to change somehow, as it hadn’t changed since his father’s death, when at seventeen years of age, he had taken the mantle of chief. He had avenged his father’s death, taking the life of the power-hungry laird who had killed him as well as claiming all of his holdings. It was an overwhelming and bloody victory that secured for him the loyalty of the Mac Coinnach clan far more than his blood right to the title of Chief.
Finally there was a firm knock at the door, and Dirc slipped into the room without waiting for a response fromwithin. Bren motioned for him to sit, and watched with a keen eye as he crossed the room to one of the elaborately carved wooden chairs. The man had to be at least ninety, no one knew for sure, but he looked barely fifty years of age. He had been sorcerer to his family for three generations, and now that his own father was gone nearly a decade now, and then his mother, killed not four years later, Dirc was the next closest thing he had to family, besides his brothers, of course. The old man watched over Bren and Drust and Eian, healed their wounds, warned them of danger, helped them to cast and keep wards and spells when necessary. And in all the years Bren had known him, Dirc had never kept a woman of any kind, not even a house maid, let alone a beautiful young lass.
Aye, the old man was up to something. And friend or no, it was his place as laird to know what. There was, after all, much at stake. He decided it was best to come straight to the point. The old man could be frustratingly wily.
“Who is she?”
Dirc looked right at him, his dark eyes looking so much older than the rest of his face that it was a bit disconcerting at times. But he did not bother to pretend innocence. He knew exactly who Bren was asking about.
“She is the daughter of an old friend, my laird. Her mother is dead. I came across her recently, in the forest outside of Creagmor, at the edge of the glen. She was on her way here to find me. She had journeyed far, and I took her in right away, for her own safety, of course. I had no’ yet heard the news of her mother’s death.”
He turned his gaze to the window, his eyes far away now. “I had sworn an oath, many years ago, to watch over the girl. I have nay choice but to honor that oath now, nor would I wish it differently”, he said with a stubborn note in his voice.
Bren leaned back in his chair. He knew the old man was telling the truth, or at least he wasn’t outright lying. He would sense that easily, as Dirc did not have the power to hide a lie from him. Very few people did. He was relieved that at least the old man wasn’t trying to play matchmaker again. It never went well when he did. In fact, Bren had long ago begun to suspect Dirc’s matchmaking went badly on purpose, though why, he did not know. But he was not such a fool to think that there was not more to the story than Dirc was telling him now. He played along for now; it was the only way to deal with the sorcerer, as he had long ago learned.
He rubbed his chin, as if in thought. “And just when were ye going to tell me about this new ward of yours, Dirc? After all, if she is on my lands, and truly without home or family, then by our laws she must give her oath of loyalty and beg the protection of Creagmor.”
Dirc gave him a complacent look. He may not be able to lie to Bren, but he did not need to, nor did he want to. He had known the laird since he was a babe in the cradle, knew the way he thought, knew exactly how to steer him to his own course. He almost always got his own way in the end.
“Ye are a busy man, my laird. I didna think it an urgent matter and likely would have mentioned it when next I happened to speak with ye. I truly saw nay harm in it. Although now that I think on it some more, she is a verra lovely lass, and perhaps it isna safe to leave her in the cottage alone while I go about my business between the villages. I shouldna want to think of a man finding her there alone. My protection spells can only do so much. They might hold out against one, but if there were several…”
He bit his lip in concern, waiting. He knew how the laird hated rapists above all others, especially after what had happened to his mother six years ago.
Bren’s eyes narrowed, full of suspicion, and rightly so. He leaned forward.
“Ye want a place for her at the castle?” He knew that was exactly what Dirc wanted. He could see right through the sorcerer’s carefully chosen words, obviously meant to bait him. But in truth, he couldn’t stop thinking about the lass. He could still see her in his mind, could still feel the incredible urge to reach for her and pull her close. There it was… that strange tightening in his chest again, and the restless energy that filled him, making it so difficult to sit still. As if he had something to do, something very important, and he was only wasting time.
Dirc looked up from where he had been contemplating his hands, folded neatly and innocently in his lap. “If ye could find a place for her my laird, I would be most grateful. To ken she is safe within the castle walls while I’m about my business… it would put my mind much at ease.”
Bren silently conceded this victory, sitting back in his chair again. Dirc had known he would take her in, and he had no real interest in proving him wrong.Not this time. He had other plans. Plans that involved naked flesh and sinful pleasure.
“Perhaps there’s a place for her with the other women. Bring her by this afternoon, so that I can meet her for myself, and I will give ye my decision.”
Faith paced the tiny cottage, which only seemed to become smaller with every step. Ten steps this way, ten steps that. She had long since investigated every clay jar, every book, every corner, and Dirc had asked her not to go outside until he returned. Since she had to assume he had a good reason, and remembering her earlier feeling of being watched, she stayed put.
Though it wasn’t easy.
