She leaned closer toward Callum. “Let us move closer, please, we cannot see.”
He gave a low chuckle.
“Callum MacCade,” she roared, enraged, “how could you find jest in this moment?”
“You are now the same as me, my lady – nae shadow-glance with this blinding rain. You must learn to trust your other senses, and one of those is logic,” he advised. “You charge into battle – what of Aonghus then? Your presence will only serve to distract him. Leave him to finish this. Do not question my resolve; if anything were to happen to you on my watch, Aonghus would suffer as I have all these years, andthisI shall not have befall him.”
He was right, but her pride still gave a snort. What if her knight needed her?
Looking back toward the shore – at least thatshouldbe the shore – all which appeared was rain thick as a waterfall. If only she could halt the portraits painting her mind from the sounds of steel clashing or injured wails or horses screaming from fear or pain. This was raging hell in a downpour!
“CHARGE!” A lone shout tore above it all – Stewart.
The same moment the clouds slowed their gush, the sight which greeted her was Northmen scattering. Where was her knight? There? No, too wee. There? No, the horse was gray, not Laoch. There? No, the knight dead on the ground has a full beard. She swallowed hard. A Scotsman dead. The numbers may have been in their favor, but battles fought still carried a cost of measure onto both sides. WHERE WAS HE?!
A flash of raven hair shocked the breeze by a knight charging toward those Northmen bolting for the boats. Aonghus.Tormented yells carried the air as those very same ships, having carried the Northmen ashore, now became their doom and sank, drowning the enemy. This. This was a defining moment.
Someone else knew it too.
“Lady Keirah,” the king’s summons sounded. “They are driven from the shores.”
Her eyes never left Aonghus. He was safe. A bruise to the temple – perhaps this was how the helm was forced off his skull…
The Lord Constable’s voice boomed as though it were a thunderclap: “Victory to the King of Scots!”
Chapter 45
Royal Castle at Ayr, Scotland
Six Days Later
Keirah looked at her fingers intertwined with Aonghus’s as he raised her hand to his lips. A kiss upon her fingers. Her cheeks warmed. Gracious! All their passionate times together when they had a stolen moment alone the past days and her desire had only grown stronger. Sophisticated temptress? Naw, possibly never. Naughty wanton lass? Forever!
He set their joined flesh back on the table. Huh, his knuckles – they were still raw from warfare.Some honey upon those later.A reminder of the Northmen, their fierceness still shown when giving one final charge. King Alexander had been wise to order them and his forces back into the mountains, sparing more bloodshed with victory already in the Scots’ grasp.
The roar within the great hall seemed to rattle the cornerstone. Wine and mead flowed quick as grins and boasting after the battles upon the shoreline. Edina snuggled closer on her lap the entire feast as they sampled together all the platters.
“You care for a second spiced apple?” Keirah asked of her wee feasting companion.
A yawn met her query. “Nae, my lady.” Edina rested her curls against Keirah’s breast.
Looking up, she discovered each time her eyes found Aonghus’s he simply smiled at them.Aye, soon it shall be a wee one of our own if deemed fortunate.
Edina’s cheek weighed heavier. “You sleepy, wee lamb?” she whispered.
A colossal yawn met her question. “Nae,” she peeped back, and Keirah bit her lip, halting a grin.
Gazing toward her knight, she spied Aonghus’s eyes staring behind her at the king. Her mirth vanished at the sight of a Scot she hadn’t seen before stepping past.Alec– they had no word on what had come about regarding the battles near Loch Lomond. Perhaps now?
The messenger whispered urgently into King Alexander’s ear before handing the sovereign a folded parchment. The king looked at them with an expression she understood to meanFollow directly.
They rose; Edina’s mother took a snoring wee lass back with her. Aonghus claimed her hand in his once more as they followed Callum directly with Sir Brayden on the heels of the king. The eldest MacCade had taken a strong post in Sir James’s absence. Neither shadow-glances nor night-glances were needed to tell her there seemed to be a hint on the future to come for the Clan MacCade chief; perhaps this was why he was present at the treaty signing seen in her previous night-shadow.
Before the door barely shut behind them, the king handed the parchment to the MacCade brothers before taking his throne while stating, “’Tis a message from Alec MacCade regarding those who battled at Loch Lomond.”
Keirah swallowed hard as the pair unfolded the message. “Are Alec and Deidre well?” she asked after moments seemed hours.
Aonghus replied, his eyes still upon the page. “Aye.” At his answer she drew breath, unaware it was being held till he spoke. “Ivar burned Castle MacCade and there were heavy losses, but many survived, including” – he looked up at her – “the wee bairn. You are an auntie to a wee strapping laddie.”
