The flower tucked safely in one hand, she offered him her other palm before he gently raised her up. Holding her fingers, he pulled her toward the spiral granite stairway.
The impatience with which he moved while they charged up the steep steps spoke silently; he had felt the want to be alone strumming between them the same as she had. This is what she could have, and have it she would! Maybe…“Um, MacCade,” she whispered, breathless, when they took a second turn down a fresh passageway, “’tis rather unseemly to have bolted before the king returned.”
“Twowholenights, my Cluaran, and days of rain withnaeprivacy for us! The keep’s steward has showed me our chamber.”That was who he had vanished with.“It will remain a place for a few moments as our own while I savor a taste from your lips.” At his demand, her step quickened beside him down the deserted torchlit passage.Let’s go!
***
Keirah’s pace was swift. Aonghus gave an inward sigh from relief. Hopefully he had taken her mind from the pain he had seen in her eyes once the wee lassie had left.She would be a natural mother. It tore his gut in two at seeing her suffer.
They reached the chamber’s entry. As he encircled her waist with a growl, she leaned into him; her lips brushed his cheek. He grabbed her bonny curved arse, lifted her against him, kicked the damn threshold open they would be staying in, then dragged her inside. Facing the murky room, using his heel, he slammed the door shut.
Inspect the bedchamber. Keep her safe, then kiss her soundly then find a path beneath her gown then…His peripheral vision scanning the room for threats halted. The hairs upon the back of his neck prickled. What the hell was the shadow within the farthest corner from the lit peat bricks in the hearth opposite their canopy bed?
They werenotalone.
With a lone swift movement, he tore Keirah behind him, shielding her, and ripped the sword from the scabbard. “Show yourself!” he bellowed into the darkness.
His grip tightened onto the hilt when the shadow sprang to life and emerged from the inky abyss.
A warrior half a score older than him stepped forth. Broad as a longship, his shoulder length hair the same color gold as a polished coin matched a lengthy beard, face of a sadist, and eyes cold as a frozen loch. The stranger with paunchy jowls wore a massive bear pelt almost as a trophy to make his frame appear the largest man in the castle.
Keirah’s description of the North captor was precise.She gasped from behind, “Lord Kollungr.”
Kollungr’s thin lips turned up in a cruel grin at her for a second –Aye,ashite sadist– before the grin vanished when he looked at…“The Scotsman, Sir Aonghus MacCade.” Kollungr’s voice was thick with a northern accent and contempt. “The mercenary who was freshly knighted.” The Northman then returned his attention to eyeing the one he was shielding behind him. “Keirah, my lovely, it seems you have strayed from whereyoubelong.”
The words had barely left the adversary’s lips when Aonghus’s wrath ignited.Kill!His sword would be best, but to grip Kollungr’s trunk-like throat would be so much sweeter! His knuckles gave a crack when he warmed up his free fist. Keirah lunged in front of him to place both her palms firmly upon his torso, halting him.No, Cluaran, he must die – right now.
She pleaded, meeting his gaze: “MacCade,rememberyour vow.”Oh hell.
His eyes strayed to gauge the width of the Northman’s grin; aye, he could stuff that damn smirk right off the sadist’s face when the time came – good. He gave her a tiny nod, then saw the strain upon her features soften.
Her hands tightened on his mantle as she leaned up before pressing her lips over his shaven cheek to whisper into his ear: “Thankyou, my knight.” Her lips brushed his lobe, and his breath caught.
A grin found his face at her desire-filled gesture. He called out toward Kollungr but kept his gaze locked on Keirah. “Seems you are to be the one who has strayed, Lord Kollungr. ’Tis Scottish soil you now stand upon, or had the detail escaped your attention,Northman?” he asked as Keirah stood beside him. Both faced the opponent, becoming a unified Scottish front.
Somehow the enemy’s cheeks turned a shade brighter than embers in the hearth. It must have been the intimate gesture on Keirah’s part toward kissing him.“Lord Kollungr’s mind raced wild in an odd sort of way when she escaped; he will crush anything in his way to recapture her fate back into his grasp.”Sturan’s final warning about the Northman’s fixation on her echoed. Sturan was right. The raw emotion from this was directly before him. His arm came about her waist to hold her closer, with his fist tightening on the hilt.Just try it, Northman, and see the outcome.
“No detail has escaped me,Scotsman.” He ground out the words between clenched teeth. “The list is long, beginning with you taking her to your bed thus crushing her element as a fate-seer after stealing her from my grasp.”
No, it was more than a fate-seer.The Northman meant to have her for his own as a Scotswoman. It was obvious why; Keirah had a way in her manner. Could he describe it? There were certain things in life this way, like trying to understand why the dawn appeared each day or how the winter gave way to warm spring. Certain elements held a quality to them, andthiswas her.Thiswas shown to those around her, from challenging Sir Brayden to conquer his fears thus winning Lady Maise’s hand, to Callum bearing the first smiles he had seen in years at the archery lessons, to even the newly met Edina with whom, without hesitation, Keirah had cast aside formalities, taking a knee, engaging with the wee lassie when most ladies in the king’s court would laugh at getting such a tiny token as a lone flower. It drew others toward her, just as he had been, and the portrait in possessive rage before him showed the Northman was no exception. However, Kollungr had forced it in the darkest of ways to see it so, but not for long.
“He didnotsteal me, Lord Kollungr,” she declared, lifting her chin defiantly. “’Twas I who fled!”
“You?” His laugh sounded more like a snake’s hiss than a man’s. “Your graceful prowess is beyond compare!” He mocked her clumsiness, but the expression turned toward demonic in a blink. “Yes, you fled,myKeirah, but the journey would have been a mere trifle in length. A failure was the only outcome till this Scotsman appeared to steal you away into the night.”
Aonghus’s palm tightened about her when her delicate chin lowered, appearing shameful. “A lord of your station one would consider should be sharp in mind. Yet, a witless fool appears before me at the daft declaration. You believe my lady holds nae her abilities in her will for survival? Northman,meremoments upon Scottish soil she broke free fromyoursweated fist after all the years in Norway,” he retorted, pissed.
Her chin raised again.Good.He added, “Forthwith, ’tis Lady Keirah,notyour Keirah.” Lord Kollungr’s lips pursed at the bushy beard’s center.Kollungr is growingagitated – even better. Press more.“My lady harnessed elements in tactical deception when you and your ‘pack’ of Northern hunters foolishly charged blindly into an empty cavern. Tell me, Lord Kollungr, do you believe this offers a glimmer of her ‘graceful prowess’ or is it an example of your witless demeanor?”
Aonghus met Lord Kollungr’s eyes to find them burning with rage.Right back at you, swine shite.
Interesting – perhaps his lady was onto something; death right at the get-go with him snapping the Northman’s neck was too simple. Making Lord Kollungr enraged, with no means for a violent release given they were all obviously here for the discussions on each king’s behalf, was the path to choose.
Lord Kollungr replied darkly. “Sir Aonghus, Torsten has declared you yearn to hunt me the way you slayed my warrior, Rune.” At the steel’s glint flashing from under the Northman’s bearskin Aonghus’s grip tightened protectively on Keirah. “Scotsman, you left this on Svørn’s shield the night you took her from me. You will need it in your endeavor to keep her.”
Crack!Kollungr tossed down the double-sided axe onto the floor between them.
Lord Kollungr raised his arms. “I am directly before you, Scotsman, weapon offered; ’tis the time to see the deed done – or has that defiant Highland spirit taken a cowardly leave?” He was baiting him to attack.
