Highland Archer Page 12

  “And yet, it is known blood calls to blood. Can he be trusted to kill his own kin in battle now that he knows? I say he stays behind.” The McLeod frowned at him. “I do not trust him in battle against his own.”

  “I do.” Ceardac surprised Valent. Of the three brothers, he’d always been the one he respected the most.

  “What do you say, boy?” the McLeod asked.

  “I am thirty years of age. Not a boy. I will do as the McLeod wishes.” He looked to Ceardac whose eyes widened at being acknowledged as that. A reminder that his eldest brother was gone and he now stood as the laird over the keep.

  “You will remain here. Protect the keep, my sister, and…Lily, with twenty men,” Ceardac told him his eyes scanning his face. “Is it true you are identical in features to the McKenzie?”

  Valent nodded. “Aye.” He dared to question the man. “Were you not aware? I am convinced yer father and brother knew, had seen him up close.”

  Ceardac’s brows furrowed. “Nay, I was not aware. As an archer, like you, I remained too far behind to make out the likeness of him.”

  Valent took Ceardac at his word. The man had no reason to lie. “Now, you will face him and know.”

  “It would be interesting to kill the man, ye think?” the McLeod of Skye asked Ceardac.

  “Aye, it would be.” Ceardac studied Valent’s face.

  The thought of Steaphan being killed jolted him. Although Valent had but a passing acquaintance with his brother, the thought of Steaphan dead was confusing. He maintained a neutral expression and waited to be dismissed.

  It was curious that, once again, he was forced to remain at the keep, to ensure Ariana’s safety. The last thing he wanted was to stay there and have another opportunity to be near her. Each time made it harder to give her up, to accept they could never be.

  The clan going to battle meant he would have the perfect opportunity to leave. The twenty would be good protection. If the McLeod left ten archers, his departure would not make much of a difference.

  Just outside the great room in the corridor, Valent stopped and leaned against the wall. Emotions surged through him. On one hand, thoughts of his newly found brother dying and then, on the other hand, the idea that he had to decide when would be the best time to go from the McLeod keep.

  He’d already planned to go as far as possible. He’d take only his meager belongings, his dog and horse. One day, he’d start a new life far away, perhaps even marry and have children and this entire portion of his life would be left to be forgotten. The lowlands were a good place to begin anew.

  “Valent?” The soft touch on his shoulder was accompanied by the scent of a light fragrance. He closed his eyes for a moment to steel his reaction to her. “You will stay behind. It will give us an opportunity to escape together.”

  Ariana’s beseeching expression tore at him. Her beautiful eyes taking in his face, searching for what he thought.

  “You look beautiful today.” It was not a reply, but the truth. “If only I could show you how you affect me right now.”

  Her gaze traveled to between his legs and her lips curved just a bit. “You are avoiding my request.”

  She was a smart lass, never shirked from the truth. Valent nodded. “Aye, I am. It is difficult for me to even consider taking you with me. As I told you before, I have nothing to offer you, Ariana. Your life would change drastically and although at first you would not, after sometime, you’d resent it. You should go to your chambers. It would not be a good thing for someone to happen upon us.”

  The arch of her brow was a sign she was not happy at his words. “Have you considered waiting for all of this to end and for us to approach my brother together? We can ask for his permission to marry. Or it could just be you do not care for me as I do you. Tell me the truth, Valent. I would rather know that I am but making a fool of myself by coming after you.”

  Her words tore through him. The truth of how many differences stood between them was lost on her at the moment. She remained blinded by romantic notions of what could be. Not seeing the stark truth of what their life would truly be.

  “You are not a fool. It is hard for me to fathom that you find me worthy of your love. I do care for you, Lady Ariana. But I am not naïve to the fact that you and I are too different.”

  She slid her hands flat against his chest, her fingers curling on the fabric of his tunic. When Ariana lifted her mouth in offering there was nothing that could pull him away. He took her tender lips with hunger, teasing the bottom lip with his tongue before delving between them. With a soft moan, she fell against the wall pulling him to her.

  The softness of her curves enticed him, called for him to give her everything she asked. The feel of her sent every part of his body to harden in expectation. He pushed his erection into her, the friction of their clothing bringing only a bit of release. Valent reached under her skirts and skidded his fingers up her leg to her thigh before delving between her legs. Ariana suckled and nipped at his throat urging him to continue his exploration, her hand moving to caress his hardness.

  When her fingers curled around his shaft, Valent bucked into her hand, needing more. She moved her hand up and down the length until he was sure he’d spill.

  Ariana shifted her hips forward into his hand and Valent found the center of her folds and slid a fingertip down the center, flicking it up and down until she moaned and trembled as she climaxed, the nails of her left hand digging into his hip.

  She released his hard member and fell against him. “I want to be with you, Valent. Come to my bed tonight.”

  There was nothing he wanted more at the moment. A part of him wished he could throw caution to the wind and take her then and there and go as far away as possible.

  Valent cupped her face and lifted it to his, ensuring to keep the kiss from becoming too arduous. They’d taken enough of a risk already. “I cannot. It is too dangerous. Goodnight, Ariana.”

  “Valent?” she started, but he placed his finger over her lips.

  “I do love you, Ariana.”

  When she walked away, Valent fell against the wall, his breathing harsh when realizing it would be best to avoid her as much as possible. It would not do for someone to go to the new laird about their relationship. He refused to put yet another burden on the lovely Ariana.

  There was too much already on her shoulders.

  Perhaps it was true she loved him. Her words sounded sincere. However, no matter how much he wished it so, it couldn’t be. No matter how hard they fought, the road ahead was filled with heartache for them both.

  * * *

  Steaphan’s mother stiffened when he entered the study. From the set of her lips, she was prepared to fight him about his new wife. She would try to convince him to annul the marriage by the way she studied the family crest over the hearth, she’d bring up every instance of the purity of the McKenzie clan she could.

  Lorna McKenzie rarely exposed her softer side. If there was one. The only time Steaphan remembered his mother ever crying was when his father died. That he recalled, although no more than three years of age, she’d not cried when Darach was taken.

  “Mother, you wanted a word with me?” He poured two glasses of whiskey and placed one on a table for her while sitting down with his. “Are you unwell?”

  Her keen eyes met his. “I wish to discuss the matter of your marriage to that McLeod creature. After having time to consider and pondering on what you’ve done, I am sure you cannot continue to be set on remaining tied to a McLeod.”

  Actually, he had and, each time, his memory of the fair Fiona made him want to return with haste to collect his wife.

  “I made an oath and stood before a clergyman when speaking vows to her. So yes, I do plan to remain married to Fiona McLeod, now McKenzie.” He sipped, enjoying the heated trail the whiskey left as it traveled down his throat. “There are more important matters to deal with at the moment than my marriage.”

  She pursed her lips and let out an aggravated breath.
When she opened her mouth to speak, Steaphan stopped her. “I forbid you from interfering or daring to do anything that will harm my wife. Is that understood?”

  Her eyes widened slightly. “Do you actually care for her?”

  Of course, he didn’t. True, he was anxious to see her again. To lay with her and make love until his body could not move. But care, no. It was too soon to feel more than lust. “Of course, I do. She is my wife.”

  She lifted the glass and studied the liquid. “Nothing good can come of this, Steaphan. It was a foolish, rash decision.”

  “There is a more pressing topic I must discuss with you,” Steaphan told her, changing the subject.

  “Whatever could be of more importance than this…” she waved her hand in the air, “…this situation, son? We must at once settle things with the Grant, lest you have a second clan wanting to war.”

  It was hard at times to keep from losing his temper. It was his right to do as he wished. As laird of Clan McKenzie, he didn’t need her agreement to do anything. It was out of respect for her and his deceased father that he gave her consideration. Although truth be told, his patience was running very low.

  “Listen to me, Mother.” He locked gazes with his mother who leaned back with an apprehensive expression. “I have located my twin brother.”

  Her mouth fell open and she took a shaky breath. “He is alive, then?”

  “Aye. He is alive and very near.”

  It struck him as interesting when she scanned the room as if formulating her next question. “Did you speak to him?”

  “Only briefly. Darach calls himself Valent. He was raised as a foundling by the McLeods.”

  If possible, her eyes grew rounder and her mouth fell open. “Where is he now?”

  “With the McLeods of the south. The clan we are embattled with. He is an archer.”

  Her hand shook when she brought the whiskey to her mouth. “How can it be? All these years so close.”

  “I am sending men to capture him and bring him here.”

  His mother’s eyes snapped to his. “No. He is not a McKenzie, but a McLeod. Raised by them, he must hate us. To bring him into the fold now will only open this household to danger. He will be but a McLeod in our midst.”

  Steaphan leaned forward and studied her. “Do you not want to speak to him, Mother? Meet him and let him know we did not throw him away, but that he was snatched from your arms?”

  Lorna McKenzie straightened and looked to him, a look of disdain upon her face. “It was from your hand he was snatched. It is true, a tragedy it was. That your brother was taken from me was horrific at the time. Yet with time, I accepted it was meant to be. A seer once told me I would lose half of one. There is nothing to be repaired now. He is not my son, but a McLeod foundling.”

  She stood and went to the doorway. “Leave things as they are, Steaphan. Your priority should be to ensure this war between the clans be settled with as little bloodshed as possible and to make amends to the Grant regarding the marriage. Your brother should remain where he is. He belongs there now.” Her gaze held his for a long moment. “I am not sure you will ever be happy with a McLeod for a wife, but I tell you this. The last thing you need is your brother here to usurp you. Darach was born almost an hour before you, therefore, by birthright, he is who should be Laird McKenzie.”

  “How many are aware of this?” Steaphan wasn’t sure if he believed her or not. Her penchant for using words to get her way never ceased to astound him. She’d used this to convince him not to bring Darach back. For whatever reason, his mother did not want his brother to return home.

  “It was announced at the birthing, of course. Your father made the announcement right after you were both born. So for the first three years of your lives, everyone knew Darach would inherit your father’s place.” She crossed her arms. “You don’t deserve to lose your place after all this time. Think on it, son, you know everyone, have lived here your entire life.”

  “Is it my brother’s fault that he was taken? Did he have a choice in losing everything? You have not even asked how he looks, or if he was hurt. I wonder sometimes what really happened the night my brother was taken. Your reaction is quite astounding.”

  What was left of her color drained from her face and she gripped the doorway. “Whatever you think of me, I did not willingly give up my child. If I speak so now, it is because I have accepted that Darach is gone forever. This man who was born Darach is now Valent McLeod. He cares naught for us. Would probably kill you if you tried to kill a McLeod in his presence. Did he not kill some of our men?”

  It was a useless conversation. Steaphan was sorry he’d told her about his brother. His mother didn’t care to know about her own son. He, on the other hand, very much wanted to know his brother, speak to him and find out what his life was like.

  “Niven!” he called for his guard, who stood outside the door. The guard entered and looked to Lorna who remained in the room. “When do the men leave for the south?”

  “They have already, Laird,” Niven replied sliding a glance at Steaphan’s mother.

  Lorna glared at Niven then looked to Steaphan. “Trust me in this. For once, listen to my counsel. Leave things as they are, son. Nothing can be done to return that boy to us.”

  It was late when Steaphan finally went to his chamber. He lay in the bed and thought of Fiona. Did she think of him? Had she packed and prepared to come live with him in Gladdaugh? He turned to his side and stilled at hearing footsteps outside his door. With a dirk in hand he waited in the dark for whoever came.

  “Laird?” It was Niven. “The McLeods are moving this way and will be on our lands at daybreak.”

  * * *

  The morning fog barely lifted over the glen, enough to make out the lines of McLeods. Atop his horse, Steaphan looked to see that a McLeod who resembled his prisoner rode to the front of his men.

  Ceardac McLeod, the second born son. He’d seen him once at the games, competed in a timber toss, which he’d won. Although Steaphan had never been close enough to the man to speak to him, he seemed to be very different than the other brothers by the way he interacted with the guards. Almost as an equal. If not for this clash, he would have considered getting to know the man better.

  As things were, it would be years before the clans would ever consider charting into any kind of friendliness.

  Steaphan scanned the lines of McLeod archers behind the two ranks of warriors, but at the distance it was impossible to see if his brother was amongst them.

  He lifted his sword, signaling for his men to hold steady and wait. The horses pawed at the ground and nickered, the only sounds as both sides studied the other. “McLeod!” Steaphan shouted and moved a few feet forward and the McLeod did the same. “Your men killed my men. We avenged. If you want to fight, we will fight. But if you withdraw, then we shall as well.”

  “You killed my eldest brother,” Ceardac yelled back scanning his face. “Where is the other?”

  Steaphan looked over his shoulder to where the young McLeod was held by two men. His head flopped forward, as he’d been beaten and not fed so he barely had the strength to even stand. “He is here. Alive. But not for long.”

  “Allow him to come forth. Let him go!” Ceardac called out. “We withdraw when he gets to me safely.”

  “Is that your only offer? I decline,” Steaphan replied. “However, I will exchange him for my brother.”

  “You do not have a brother with us.”

  Steaphan moved back to where his first line stood and motioned for the men to release the prisoner. The man stumbled until he was alongside Steaphan’s horse. By the dazed look, the man would barely be able to walk a few more steps. Steaphan felt no sympathy for him.

  With a swift swipe of Niven’s sword, his first beheaded Beathan McLeod.

  Ceardac released a battle cry and the McLeods rushed towards them.

  “Hold!” Steaphan called, forcing his men to wait until they came closer. “Hold!”

  When
the McLeods were at ten feet he signaled his men forward.

  The first lines clashed. The sounds of grunts and swords filled the air.

  Soon the smell of blood was thick in the air. Steaphan rushed Ceardac who fought hard, his face raw with rage.

  “McLeod!” Steaphan called getting his attention away from his men on the ground. “It is me you are angry with. Face me!”

  The loud roar the man released was followed by two slashes of his sword, which Steaphan blocked and returned. Both fought until he cut Ceardac in the side. When the McLeod fell off the horse, Steaphan was forced to retreat as he was too deep into the ranks of the enemy and they could easily circle him.

  Arrows rained over them and he held up his shield while moving backwards.

  “Retreat!” an older man on the McLeod side called and both sides moved away from each other, grabbing whatever injured they could and dragging them away.

  “You are bleeding,” Niven scanned the area and kneeled next to a fallen man to check him for signs of life. “Need to see about binding it.”

  “Why did they call retreat? They were holding their own.” Steaphan looked to where the McLeods had gone. “Strange, don’t you think?”

  His friend looked up at him and then his arm, which now began to throb. “Aye. However, I think he wanted to avoid the last of the brothers being killed. And I doubt he wanted to lose many of his own. They do not have a grudge with us.”

  “Is he alive?” Steaphan looked to the injured man.

  “Aye.” Niven motioned for him to dismount. “Help me with Barclay. He still lives.”

  Steaphan looked across the field. It looked like they’d fared not too badly in spite of being outnumbered. The McLeods of Skye had no quarrel with them, so they’d fought with restraint. They only came to help their own clan. An attempt to rescue the dead man.

  “Do you think the men you sent had enough time to get my brother?”

  “Aye, they left two nights past. Probably got their eyes on him now.”