‘Is there someone else you would rather wed?’ her brother asked. With a light teasing tone, he added, ‘Someone you have your eye on?’
The image of Gavin MacAllister suddenly invaded her mind. His body had filled out the MacKinloch clothing he wore, and she had welcomed the feeling of his arms around her. Even his kiss had captivated her senses.
Her face flushed, and her brother’s expression gleamed. ‘Who is he, Lianna?’
She covered her cheeks and shook her head. ‘No one.’ To avoid answering questions, she turned her back.
Sían laughed quietly. ‘You will not tell me, I see.’ He only ruffled her hair and said, ‘Don’t fear, Lianna. I will handle everything. You need not wed this man.’
‘What will you do if the Normans will not listen to reason?’ she asked. She knew better than to think it would be an easy escape.
A sly smile came over her brother’s face. ‘Don’t worry your head over that. Trust that I ken what is best.’
She wanted to trust in him, but could not quite bring herself to do so. Sían never prepared for the future, but made decisions depending on his moods—and his decisions changed by the hour. Although she might love him as her brother, he was utterly unreliable. But she wanted to believe that he would intervene on her behalf, if she asked it of him. She had to hold on to her faith.
Worry gripped her with the fear of her father dying. After her mother’s death in childbirth when Lianna was eight years old, he was all she had left. Although she had never understood Alastair’s fierce desire for a Norman alliance, he had been a kind and loving father. More than once, he had confessed that he wished she had been the firstborn son.
‘I know that you care for our people,’ he’d said. ‘You see what they truly need, instead of what they tell others to salvage their pride.’
His praise had warmed her heart, and because of it, she’d tried to fill the emptiness left behind by her mother. Davina had kept their house immaculate, and Lianna had tried to do the same. By holding on to her mother’s ways, it was a means of remembering her.
Sían walked back with her to the fortress, and Lianna parted ways from him, moving towards the thatched shelter that housed the entrance to the underground storage chamber. She climbed down the ladder, adjusting her woollen brat against her shoulders. All along the stone walls, she had organised food stores by grains and fruits. Now, she wondered if it might be better to sort them according to the month the foods had been harvested. It was nearly autumn, but she was well aware that there was a dire lack of supplies.
After an hour of sorting, she had regained command of her fear. It was frigid below the ground, and she climbed back up the ladder, only to see her brother on horseback with several men. They were gathering weapons, and she overheard one of the men jeering about the Normans. Her brother had a bow and quiver of arrows strapped across his shoulder.
Had Rhys de Laurent arrived, then? A sudden uneasiness caught her heart, and she picked up her skirts, hurrying towards them. ‘Sían, where are you going? Why do you have weapons?’
He wasn’t planning an attack, was he?
Her brother only smiled. ‘We’re going hunting, Lianna. You said yourself that we’ve a lack of food.’
She wished she could feel a sense of relief, but one of his kinsmen had an axe strapped to his waist. It was not a weapon meant for hunting animals, and she could not relinquish her suspicions, despite his words.
Sían smiled at her and added, ‘Don’t you want fresh venison or pheasant?’
His tone bothered her, for she was deeply afraid that he meant to attack the Norman travelling party. If he did, it would bring war among them, and she had no doubt the soldiers would slaughter any man who raised weapons.
In a low voice, she warned, ‘Sían, don’t do anything foolish.’ She didn’t want to outwardly accuse him in front of his men, but she sensed his lies.
His thin smile transformed into a sneer. ‘I am doing what is best for all of us, Lianna.’ With a mocking smile, he added, ‘We wouldn’t want any predators threatening our people.’
She needed to speak with Alastair, in the hopes that someone could deter her brother. He might be able to reason with Sían, to make him see that violence would only beget more fighting. And if he threatened the Normans, it would undermine her own chance at freedom.
Her brother was already striding towards the others, and she called out, ‘Sían, wait!’
He only raised his dagger in a mock salute, while his kinsmen laughed and mounted their horses. A flock of crows flew over their heads, and a premonition passed over her. If they attack, they’re going to die.
She knew better than to think that she could stop them from whatever they planned, but perhaps her father could. Lianna hurried back to the house, not knowing what would happen.
But Sían had to be stopped.
* * *
Rhys de Laurent sat among his men by the fire, watching the golden flames flare amid the peat. Although the clan chief, Alastair MacKinnon, had offered them shelter at his home, he’d wanted to bide his time a little longer. He knew better than to think the Highlanders would welcome Norman soldiers among their clan. But now that he had decided to go through with the betrothal, they would travel to Eiloch in the morning.
He was glad to have these last few hours to clear his head. His mind was caught up with a thousand questions he could not answer. He had gone to meet with Lianna MacKinnon to see what sort of woman she was. He’d predicted that she would be soft-spoken and timid, obeying her father’s bidding. Instead, she had met his gaze with her own courage. There was something about her that intrigued him—and now that he’d had a taste of her, he wanted more.
Once, he’d thought about switching places with his brother, allowing Warrick to wed Lianna in his stead. Yet, now that he’d tasted her lips, he wouldn’t even consider it. He had kissed her to satisfy a curiosity, to see if there was a woman of fiery spirit to match her red hair. Instead, he had found that she was innocent, confused and scared. Her kiss had been sweetly unknowing, as if it were her first. But in time, she had warmed to his touch, and he now believed that she would make a good wife for him.
God in Heaven, it had aroused him beyond all imaginings. Her palms had rested upon his chest, and she had opened to him, offering him her own yearning. When she had straddled his leg, allowing him to stroke her mouth with his tongue, he’d nearly lost himself. He had become a different man, one caught up beneath her spell.
He would indeed accept this woman as his bride. And although he had once imagined leaving her behind in Scotland, now he was reconsidering. It might be best to take her back to England with him.
And more than all else, he was looking forward to claiming her as his own.
‘You look besotted,’ his friend Ailric remarked. ‘Was she fair of face?’
If fair of face meant hair like a sunset, and skin that resembled the petals of a rose, then yes.
‘She was,’ Rhys agreed. ‘In the morning, we will go to Eiloch and you can see her for yourself.’
Ailric
