You can walk just fine,Adam thought as he hung back to admire her. Those swaying hips could make a man crawl and beg to hear even one pleasant word uttered from her delectable mouth. And that mane of wild curls. He wanted to touch a strand, to smell the honey-sweetness he already knew lingered there. He hadn’t been prepared to meet the likes of Kali Bane. No. He’d expected just what her sire had warned his father about. An unattractive wayward lass in need of correction—severe punishment to teach her to be obedient—before she was sent home.
Adam had left that part out for her benefit. The mere mention of her sire had seemed to set her off, and he wanted to know why. She was no witch. Willful and intelligent, beautiful and perhaps a little dangerous, aye. And he liked his women spirited. But she wasn’t his… Never would be, he assured himself, as he strode to catch up with her.
As they passed by some men from the ships anchored at the docks, she earned a suggestive call or two, and a lingering stare that made Adam’s skin crawl. He growled resentfully, protectively, ready to fight a sailor off, if need be.
They made it safely to the horses, where three MacKay soldiers waited.
“Lady Kali,” Adam said. “Meet James and Joseph, twins as ye can see, and Sam.”
The men had the same reaction to her as every one of the male persuasion. They gawked, quickly recovered their senses, then properly greeted her.
“Yer trunk is secured on the packhorse,” Adam said. “And this is Fern, my sister’s mare.”
“Ye have a sister?” Kali asked.
“Aye. She is the youngest. There’re four brothers, of whom I am the eldest.”
“Ye are fortunate to have such a large family.” She tried to hide the tears welling in her eyes, but Adam saw the pain in them already. He didn’t wish to upset the lass.
“Ye have sisters.” The least he could do is distract her from whatever made her sad.
“Aye. Ariana and Keara. The sweetest girls ye’d ever meet.”
He hoisted her into the saddle, her skirts riding up her legs. She blushed and repositioned herself, demonstrating her modesty, which pleased him. He cursed himself for admiring her slim ankles, and then mounted his horse. “Ye can ride, lass?”
“Aye.”
He raised his hand and gestured for them to go.
Within an hour, an ancient-looking, gray-stoned castle loomed before them, a sight he never tired of seeing. ’Twas his beloved home, the place his clan had lived for hundreds of years, out of reach from even the ruthless English. The rugged northwest coast and cliffs provided natural protection from the north, and the unpredictable weather and unforgiving terrain served as a deterrent for would-be attackers from the south. The barbaric nature of the most northern clans provided the rest of the protection needed to guard his home. The English considered the MacKays and their neighboring clans little more than savages and left them alone.
He rode alongside Kali. “Construction on the new tower was completed only a year ago. That one”—he pointed—“is the original tower, long abandoned by the lairds of Clan MacKay.”
“Does it serve any use now?”
“Only by those who wish to be forgotten.”
“And where did I live?”
How could she not know, even if her father had been shamed and stripped of his lands and title? She had been born in the Highlands. That meant something, even for a troubled lass like Kali. Good thing his father had relayed the whole story to him after they’d received Bane’s request to take Kali in.
“Ye lived twenty miles southeast of here. On a small but prosperous tract of land situated between the MacKenzies and Munros. A strip of land coveted by both clans. ’Tis why our families united long ago, to provide mutual protection. Unfortunately, the MacKenzies won the ear of the king and were able to convince him to dissolve yer clan.”
“My mother told me my sire used to work hard before we moved away from here.”
“Aye, he produced the best honey a man ever tasted.”
“Honey?” She appeared disappointed—her tone disbelieving.
“Aye.”
“B-but… It seems so insignificant. No wonder my sire never shared this information with us. ’Twould be an embarrassment for him to admit.”
“Nay.” Adam gazed at her, critical of her own embarrassment. “We take what our land gives us, lass. Some get more than others. And yer family was blessed with what some call a fairy wood where the bees gathered en masse. The honeycomb from their hives sweetened the cider and mead of many lairds—even our bread. Though yer da could produce only so much, ’twas where he gained his wealth, for even the king bid for it every year.”
“I never knew. Never suspected…”
“Ye were but a wee thing then. And maybe yer mam, God rest her soul, dinna want to dredge up old memories. Ones that would make yer sire angry.”
