The bench creaked under her, and Fiona’s breasts bounced up when they both jumped as Aonghus smacked his hand on the table with aclap, sounding of thunder, and turned the common room silent.
“Fiona.” He cut the words between his teeth at her. “Do not speak to her in this manner, ever!”
A long stretch filled by tense silence held supreme while Fiona’s eyes grew big as her chest before she gave a mocking curtsy at him then took her leave toward the common room’s rear. The conversations reconvened around them in a steady buzz like bees.
“Much appreciated, MacCade,” Keirah whispered, leaning forward to counter. “Fiona is hurt. Nae matter wed or not, you lay with a lass, she gives a bit of herself.”
Aonghus’s eyes turned dark. “I never ‘laid’ with the lass.”
She lowered her gaze to hide the shock; it seemed it wasn’t quick enough. “The only feature with a grander size than her breasts is the opinion of herself.” He grumbled the words. “Pits one lad against another. I do not care for this trait; a true adder snake. Never trust another, Keirah MacThistlen; it will lay you onto a path toward ruin.”
It seemed she wasn’t the only one with trust issues. A clear look of disgust was written in his eyes.
“MacCade, you speak with such conviction in your tone; may I be so bold as to inquire why?” She tilted her head slightly to the side. “Earlier, in the training with the blade, you brought forth a consideration there are those ‘lassies’ who seek only a lad with title or land or fortune. A resentment claimed your tone. I have been in a high-born lord’s company for more years than I care to declare. Titled and lands and fortunes abound directly to his rotted core.” She raised her goblet toward the Scotsman, whose lashes turned wider at her words. “These matter not to me – ’tis thesoulI look at. Yours is a grand sort, worth more than any stated glories just mentioned. So, I say once more, why would a mercenary who is honorable be banished by his clan? The reason is a noble one, this I am certain; care to share the history seen to your past?”
His expression changed from anger to guarded; the muscle on his neck twitched as he clenched his jaw. Huh, he appeared to be considering a gravely important matter. Taking a long hard swig on his mead, the Adam’s apple bobbed several times, before he wiped the back of his palm across the frothbeads upon the stubble under his chin to begin. “You are certain?” he questioned, deliberately.
She nodded.
“This consideration paramount, what do you believe may force brothers apart?”
She heard his tense voice. “A lassie?” she guessed.
He nodded. “My wee brother Alec fell in love with a Deirdre McMaley,” he began, setting the tankard down, “a daughter to a favorable clan our sire was keen to set an alliance with. I was betrothed to Deirdre at five winters old; the lass was younger than I. We grew up together, Deirdre, Alec, and I. The years passing, it became clear Deirdre was not the lass for me – she always was more wee sister than lover – but Alec, three years younger than I, adored the lassie, as she did him. When my sire passed, our eldest brother Callum became chief. As time grew short for the betrothal to step forth, I made it known to Callum I would not be fulfilling this one duty as a future clan chieftain; I was ten and six years old. The result from Callum was more volatile than Alec or I imagined. Callum called me a traitor to my clansmen and cast me out.” He paused to take one more gulp from the tankard. “I set off for Stirling seeking the post of a mercenary to the king’s men-at-arms in any wretched task they sought – the more ravenous in danger, the more I leapt at the opportunity.” He leaned back and threw his hand in the air purposefully like he was throwing a gate open between them. “See, Keirah, in the moment when my brother shunned me, a raw feeling blanketed over. Since that night, four years agone, only when I am charging into danger do I feel any speck regarding emotion.”
Seeing his state, she asked cautiously, “What became of Alec and Deirdre?”
He smiled; she leaned closer. “Alec is now a chieftain; he married Deirdre and his last words to me were he would forever be in my debt. But our elder brother still will not bend. Stubborn to his core.”
“Fool.” The single word left her lips; his eyes grew. “I know to break a betrothal late opens a chance for clan warfare, but, aye, a fool to his core.” She pressed her palms firmly onto the table. “Again, I beheld a Northman who commands all in his palm; never have I seen a crueler soul. ’Tis more honor,purehonor in what you have told in care for your wee brother than any tale I have ever heard.” She spoke with admiration, but then arched an eyebrow at his bitter laugh.
“Ohhh, Keirah, courtiers would think your sentiment that of a fool. They would never hear such rantings regarding honor, particularly a certain lady in waiting for the queen consort.” It was what she thought at the cavern – a lass. The lass must have rubbed salt in the wound opened by his brother.
“A year past, I discovered a Lady Morag had become with child, unwed. I saw the fear she harbored, so I offered to give her my name in wedlock.” He paused; she tilted her head more to catch every word as his voice became lower in a shameful tone. “The lady…well…the lady spat in my face, called me nae more than a bastard at being banished by my clan.”Lady? No, what a vile creature!“Lady Morag vowed she would never lower herself and took up with a lord from the Lowlands who I am considering does not know the ‘pre-mature bairn’ is not his heir.”
“Oh, Aonghus,” she said aghast. “The lady was mistaken in her manner,notyou,” she advised sternly. At the doubt-filled expression he wore, she went to press her point harder, but before she could, a grizzled-looking Scot whose beard seemed to blend into the furs, making him appear a colossal bear,approached the table. Her guardian seemed to know him on sight.
“Good eve, Clyde.” Aonghus gathered himself to stand, acknowledging the new guest.
“Aonghus.” Clyde grinned, showing a missing front tooth. “Good to see you are well.” He took a seat next to the mercenary, who did the same.
The inquisitive brown eyes studied her before his face broke into a newfound smile. “You were seekin’ Sturan and his brothers but return with a bonny who appears to have enjoyed a roll in the mud with you. Well done, but our lord king will not be pleased,” he said with hushed tones.
Aonghus lowered his voice. “Your direction in Sturan’s plans led me to the traitor, but a wee bit of turn came to be.”
She nodded toward Clyde. “I would be the ‘turn’. Keirah MacTh…MacCade,” she introduced herself, almost slipping about their ruse; however, once said, it rolled off her tongue – huh. Aye, Lady Morag was cruel and mistaken to turn away such a gem as he. “Freshly handfasted.” She smiled.
“Clyde O’Tunnle.” He stood to bow her direction before sitting and slapping Aonghus on the back to holler, “You grand hound, look at you!”
“Clyde has always bestowed a giving hand to me many times past about the general direction of those I sought in the more remote Highlands,” her new ‘husband’ said, explaining the relaxed atmosphere.
Cheeks rosy and plump as raspberries, hands wringing before her, the innkeeper’s wife joined the assembly. “Mistress MacCade,” she greeted her, her teeth white as the hair tucked in a knot peeking out from under her wimple at her neck. “I haveyour chamber prepared; the bath is a-steamin’ if you care to follow me?”
Keirah opened and closed her mouth a few times; she probably looked like a fish from a loch. Gathering her bearings, she stood, pulling the mud-crusted cloak about her with as much dignity as she could muster. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said toward Clyde, departing.
Smoothing his hand formally over his wiry copper hair, Clyde said, “You as well. Good luck taming this lad.” He chuckled at the last point.
“Keirah,” Aonghus called and stood to take his place beside her. “Clyde, I shall return in a moment.”He means to see me safely above.Her step fell easily into stride next to his.
