Page 62 of Highland Storm

And then there was this: Any other man might have taken the king’s bribe, and in order to secure the alliance between their houses, he would have forced Lianae to lie with him by now. Keane had yet to even touch her… and even now, if she chose to, she could declare herself unwed, for she was a maiden still in the eyes of the law.

But she wanted to be Keane’s wife in truth.

Alas, he thought her defiled, and worse, he suspected she carried another man’s bairn. Another lie—the greatest lie of all—one Lianae longed to bring into the light.

He stood so close now—so very close—and yet they might as well have been standing leagues apart. Longing for the merest brush of his skin, Lianae moved closer, and once the initial greetings were done, her husband drew the woman aside, introducing her to Lianae.

“Cailin, greet my wife,” he said without flourish.

The girl’s eyes widened. Her gaze snapped to Lianae. “Wife?”

Belatedly, he took Lianae by the hand, but the gesture seemed perfunctory. “Lianae, this is my sister Cailin. She will see to your comfort and I will join you anon.” He bent to place a chaste kiss upon Lianae’s forehead and she pressed her face into the warmth of his lips, but he broke free and moved away, abandoning her to his sister.

Cameron was quick to follow at his heels.

“Where are you going?” Cailin called after them. When Keane didn’t reply, she turned to give Lianae a strange look.

“David comes,” Lael said, and bolted after them.

Cailin opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again and merely watched her brother and sister take their leave, seeming to comprehend something Lianae did not. Though she had the immediate sense that whatever it was… it had everything to do with David’s imminent arrival in the vale.

Chapter

Twenty-One

Auld Fergus stood guard at the crannóg door whilst the men all circled the pit, warming their frozen fingers. The dancing flames cast a capricious light over each of the surrounding faces. In the shadows, near the long table, Lìli quietly rocked her newborn babe, listening with trepidation to their discourse. Along with the elder Lachlann, Aidan, Lìli, Sorcha, Cameron, Keane and Lael had all closeted themselves to discuss what was to come. Sorcha and Lael stood arm in arm, grateful to see one another after so many years, but their attention remained riveted on their brothers. For more than two hundred years the dún Scoti had not called attention to their vale—for a good cause—and now, the king and his men were on the way.

“How many ride with him?”

“Five hundred, now.” It was Cameron MacKinnon who provided that information. “He intends to meet another two once we leave the vale, and the rest will join us in Northumbria.”

Keane more than anyone understood the coming confrontation in Northumbria was not Aidan’s primary concern. “Five hundred of the king’s men will convene here?” his brother asked, his tone clearly displeased. His gaze narrowed on Keane, clearly holding him responsible.

“I encouraged him to forgo the journey,” Keane said. “He insisted. What would you have had me do?”

The two brothers locked gazes, Aidan furious and Keane unflinching. He well knew his brother’s fears, but after all was said and done, what difference would it make now?

“We all ken David mac Mhaoil Chaluim isna come to pay respects,” Aidan suggested. “So, tell me, what does he want?” He was angrier now than Keane had ever heard him be—more so than he was on the day Lael rode out from the vale. The fact that his voice was calm did not conceal his fury. It was there in the glint of his steely eyes.

The only man Keane had ever knelt before was his own brother, but not today. Unaccustomed to Keane’s diffidence toward anyone, and sensing a row, Cameron moved to diffuse it. “I believe he means to ask you to join the campaign. If we are to succeed in Northumbria, we need all the men we can get.”

Aidan’s pupils dilated as they met the MacKinnon’s cousin, until his green eyes were overshadowed by the black. “We?” he asked carefully.

“Aye,” Cameron said.

His brother’s temper was barely contained. “Northumbria is not my concern, it is not my war,” he snapped.

For all the talk he’d heard from outsiders—that Aidan coddled their women too much—Keane had never met a man yet who wasn’t ready to piss himself when faced with his brother’s wrath, including King David himself. But for the first time in all the years they’d known each other, Cameron MacKinnon stood his ground, straightening his spine, facing Aidan squarely. “Neither is it the MacKinnon’s fight, and yet I am told he will join.”

Aidan took a step toward Cameron. “Regardless, you have no business in my council, Cameron MacKinnon.”

“Aidan,” Lael interjected, moving between them, and splaying a hand upon Aidan’s chest to shove him back. “Come now,” she said. “He is our guest and we have lost too much already. Let us not fight,” she pleaded.

It took Aidan a long moment to compose himself, but when he looked again at Cameron, there was new respect in his gaze. “Chreagach Mhor lies in ruins,” he informed him, somewhat more calmly. “It will take months to rebuild what they have lost.”

“Even so, Aldridge Castle lies vulnerable now that FitzSimon is dead, and I dinna believe my cousin will allow his wife’s patrimony to be so easily remanded. He will come.”

“Aye, well, whatever Iain MacKinnon does is Iain MacKinnon’s concern. I will not lend good men to defend a crown we have not supported in more than two hundred years.”