Maybe This Time, page 12
Mayhap she was crazed. For when she’d looked to where his eyes should’ve been, she’d seen clean through to the land behind the stranger. Oh, if only she could have heard all their words.
She stifled a surge of shivers. Was it any wonder she was scared out of her wits? What she’d seen would scare the skin off the Apostles, for pity’s sake. She was an excellent warrior, but a mere mortal.
“Lady Alyssa.”
Recognizing young MacMillian’s voice, she turned to face him. “Yes, James.”
“The Buchannan says you’re to come now. It is time to wed.”
Panic seized her. “Duncan, I can’t do it,” she whispered.
Duncan nodded at James to leave them. When the boy had gone, he turned back to Alyssa. “You must.”
“No,” she insisted. “You don’t understand. He’s—he’s different. He’s not like you and me. He talks to men with—”
Duncan wrapped her shoulder with his arm. “Now, lass. You’ve made a bargain. He’s wedding you at your request. If you refuse, he’ll take revenge on your people. Do you want their blood on your hands?”
“No, but—”
“No buts, my lady.” He gave her a squeeze. “You’re just a bit jittery. All brides go through that.”
“They do?”
“They do.”
THE PRIEST STILL wore his funeral vestments.
David took one look at Father Aldwyn and said, “Father, you should change clothes. No lady wants the priest at her wedding dressed for a funeral. She’s bound to take it as an omen.”
“I have no others. When we were ordered to come back, I’d not yet returned to the keep.” Alden grimaced. “Mayhap the lady will take offense, Kevan.”
“Offense or no, she’ll not complain,” Kevan replied.
“Complain, nay, I imagine not. But my dress will offend, Kevan. Mayhap the lass will even suffer hurt feelings. I’d not want—”
“We wed now, Aldwyn,” Kevan interrupted. “She requested we marry, you forget. The woman won’t care if you’re stark naked.”
“We’ll soon see how she takes it,” David said, then groaned. “Sweet Christ! Nay, I don’t expect she will complain.”
Kevan turned and saw Alyssa. Dressed as she had been for battle, Alyssa wore her black breeches and boots, her hood, and her Cameron plaid. Kevan laughed at her deliberate attempt to goad him. She wasn’t fainthearted, he’d give her that. But she had much to learn about his ways. She couldn’t have done anything that would have pleased him more.
Her face was pale, her chin quivered, and, when she saw Aldwyn’s black and purple vestments, surprise flickered in her eyes but, without uttering a sound, she took her place at Kevan’s side.
Aldwyn cleared his throat.
“Laird,” she whispered up at him. “Before we wed, may I speak with you?”
Kevan started to refuse, but her hand on his forearm was trembling, so he granted her request. “Wait,” he said in Aldwyn’s direction, then led Alyssa away from the campfire.
Facing him, she looked up. Her emerald eyes clouded. He didn’t like it. “What is it, Alyssa?”
“Are you very devout, Laird?”
Her question was too forward, not at all modest, but the worry in her face told him his answer was important to her. He didn’t want the shrew in her to emerge before she’d even said the vows. Later would be soon enough to take her in hand. “Aye, I suppose I am.”
She gave him a little smile that sped his heart from its steady thump to a wild thunder. He frowned. “Come.”
When they again stood before Father Aldwyn, Kevan nodded. “Begin.”
The observing warriors fell quiet and Father Aldwyn started the ceremony. When he asked Kevan if he took the woman to wife, the laird answered in a shout. “Aye, I agreed, didn’t I?”
Alyssa prayed he was the angel she thought, and not the warlord from Hell he resembled, but the roar of his voice made her wonder. Yet, angel or warlord, the Buchannan was not a liar. And after telling herself so twice, she was convinced. He’d said he was devout, and she believed him. The shout obviously had been meant for Innes and his men.
Father Aldwyn, too, had grown wary at his laird’s bellow, and backed away. Reflex had Alyssa tugging him toward her.
Kevan frowned. “Unhand the priest, woman.”
Alyssa glared up at her laird. “Your roar sent him too near the fire. The tail of his cassock was in the bloody flame.”
The stunned priest smiled his gratitude.
Her laird merely lifted a brow. “Get on with it, Aldwyn.”
“Don’t bother asking, Father,” Alyssa groused. “Since I must marry, aye, I’ll take him.”
Damn if she didn’t sound disgruntled! Kevan wanted to laugh. He wanted to throttle her. He did neither, but squeezed her shoulder and hauled her to his side. “She must marry. So, I guess, that’s that.”
The priest’s forehead furrowed. Kevan nearly chuckled. “Quit your frown, Aldwyn. She took me.”
“We are wed?” Alyssa asked the priest.
Looking like he was praying for patience, Aldwyn let out a resigned sigh. “Aye, you are wed.”
The Buchannan turned and kissed his wife.
Alyssa vowed her stomach had fallen to her toes. She felt the stirrings in their tips—and up through her body to the crown of her head. But Megan couldn’t have been talking about this. No man’s lips could steal a woman’s breath. It had to be the air. Of course, it did. Even so, lord, but this Highland air was thin.
Kevan grunted softly and deepened the kiss, rubbing his lips against hers in the most pleasant way. Her heart skipped, then thudded, pounding against her ribs. Dear God, maybe a man could steal a woman’s breath. Could he kill a woman with his kiss?
Kevan raised his head. Bemused, Alyssa looked up at him. Instead of the tender look she expected, he roared laughter.
Heat swept up her neck to her face. “What has amused you, laird?”
“None who look at you now would dare doubt that you are a woman.”
She gasped and shot him a fierce glare.
He ignored it. “My name is Kevan. We are wed now.”
Alyssa swallowed hard. The man in the wood had not called him Kevan. He had called him Prophet. That, she had heard. Was he a seer, then? And more importantly, seer or no, was he good or evil? “Aye, blessing or curse, we are wed.”
His hand tightened on her shoulder. “You will not speak so to me, Alyssa. You are my wife, and I forbid it.”
“I am not free to speak my mind?”
“Nay, nor are you free to speak my mind. Learn that now.”
Alyssa’s hands flew to her hips. “Are you trying to provoke my temper?”
He laughed at her. “Nay, you little hellion. I was trying to soothe it.”
Alyssa opened her mouth to let him know what she thought of that statement, but his lips came down on hers, and his tongue darted into her mouth. Stunned by the intimacy, she tried to pull away, but he tugged her closer, and the feel of him hard against her belly sent the fight flying right out of her.
When he raised his head, she found herself fitted against his chest. Her feet dangled far above the ground, and her hands were wound around his strong neck. When had he lifted her? When had she returned his embrace?
Dazed, she looked into his eyes. The color of heated metal, they shone with amusement. God help her, it wasn’t the air, after all. It was him.
With her still in his arms, he turned toward his clans. “My wife.”
Cheers rumbled through the hills, and Alyssa forced a calm expression to her face. It was most difficult. Her anger with him was gone, but her body shook with bloody stirrings.
Then she saw Innes in the crowd. The hatred in his glare joined the hot stirrings in her blood, and she shivered.
The Buchannan looked down at her. “What is it, wife?”
Now she saw his tender expression, his concern. And, suddenly, she was very happy for the security of her husband’s arms. In them, she felt safe. She smiled up at him. “‘Tis nothing, Kevan. Nothing at all.”
AFTER THE WEDDING, Kevan questioned each Cameron warrior in private. And from each warrior, he received positive responses regarding the status of his allied-vassal.
“You seem pleased, Kevan,” David said.
“Aye, I am. Alyssa has lorded Cameron well.”
“She has the loyalty of her men. That’s evident,” David replied.
Kevan’s mood grew black. “She was neglectful only of her own safety.”
“So they said.” David drank from a pouch and held it out to Kevan. “But that was told to you in confidence—for her own good.”
“That was told to me in confidence to spare the teller from suffering her wrath.” Kevan took the pouch and chuckled. “She has their loyalty, aye. But they’ve a healthy fear of provoking her, too. Admirable combination, that. Call Duncan to me, David. Let’s see what he’s about.”
When the old soldier stood before his laird, Kevan leveled him with a hard glare. “You are more loyal to your lady than to your laird, Duncan. This does not please me.”
Duncan stiffened. “The lady is loyal to you, so my loyalty was never tested by conflict.”
“And if it had been?”
Duncan held his laird’s gaze. “Praise God, I did not have to choose. I’ve been with my lady since she was a bairn.”
“Answer my question, Duncan.” Kevan drummed his fingers against the tree stump—their makeshift table. “I lose patience.”
“If my loyalty to you would have been at risk, I wouldn’t have pledged to my lady. She’s a competent leader, Laird. Her skills are many, and she’s always been devoted to you.”
Though not unmoved by Duncan’s impassioned speech, Kevan forced his voice to remain firm. The warrior had willingly deceived him, after all. He couldn’t afford to look lightly upon that. “You need not defend the lady to me. I am her husband. But your own defense is another matter. You deliberately failed to report the incompetence of your lord, John.”
“Aye, it was deliberate,” Duncan confessed. “I have no defense.”
“None?” A sliver of surprise slipped through to Kevan’s tone.
“Nay, Laird. None.”
Lady Alyssa joined her husband and Duncan by the fire.
Kevan spared her a glance. “What do you want, wife?”
“As these matters affect—”
Her head was bowed and she spoke to the ground. Kevan groaned. “Cease your mumbling and speak up.”
When she looked up at him, her cheeks were rosy red. “As these matters affect Clan Cameron, I wish to offer my opinion—should you care to hear it.”
She wanted, to hear what happened. And because she’d twisted the truth about that, Kevan was half-tempted to refuse her. But this was the first request she’d made of him since becoming his wife, and he didn’t want to start their marriage with her thinking him unreasonable. With her skills, she’d likely avoid requesting anything further from him, and then he’d be spending the next fifty years running after her and insisting she should. “You may attend, but you will not interrupt.”
“Of course not, Laird.”
“Husband, Alyssa,” the Buchannan growled. “I am your husband. Call me that, or by my name. Hearing my wife call me laird grates at my ear.”
“Yes, husband.”
The old soldier’s faded eyes lit up with warmth. Kevan wondered why. “You stand before your laird, Duncan, and offer no defense for your actions. What punishment do you consider just repayment for your offense?”
Duncan stiffened. “Any my laird demands.”
“Even your life?” Kevan asked.
Alyssa whimpered and Kevan glanced at her. She’d grown pale, white as her mare. “Well, Duncan?”
“Aye, even my life.”
Alyssa clenched her hands into fists and her chin quivered, but she said not a word. Fear for her second’s life shone in her eyes. Kevan steeled himself against sympathy for her. “My anger is great, Duncan. In fairness, I will hear your lady before I decide your fate. You may leave me.”
Without a word, Duncan crossed his heart with his hand, dipped his head in salute, then took his leave.
“Alyssa, come.”
She walked the distance between them with her head down and her shoulders slumped. That surprised him. She was a proud woman. But it was also a telling sign of how deeply she was affected by the uncertainty of Duncan’s fate. When she stood before him, Kevan lifted her chin with his hand. “I will hear you now.”
“Do not kill Duncan.” Her voice was a strained whimper of sound, and her eyes openly pled.
“You may not direct me, Alyssa.” Kevan softened his voice. Though he wasn’t a man given to explaining himself—especially to a woman—he didn’t want her to cry. “Duncan failed in his responsibility to me. That cannot go unpunished.”
“But he did it to protect me. Please, Kevan. Duncan has cared for me my entire life. He’s guarded and taught me to defend myself—and you. It was he I fashioned myself after, his qualities I sought to make my own.”
Kevan glowered at her. “Do you love him, wife?”
“He’s been both father and mother to me. I trust him.”
Family. She cared for Duncan as a father. Kevan’s anger eased. “But do you love him?”
An uncertain frown wrinkled her brow. The wind tossed her hair forward, she brushed it back over her shoulder. “I know not what love is. But I do care for Duncan. More so, God forgive me, than for my blood father.”
She dropped to her knees, and put her hand on his thigh. “Please, husband. Please, do not kill him.”
The pain in his wife’s voice hit Kevan like a stallion’s kick to his stomach. “You beg on your knees for his life?”
Her eyes were bright and glossy, and tears clung to her lashes. “I beg on whatever I have that will allay your anger.”
Her answer infuriated him. When she bowed her head to her chest, he glared down at her crown. If she gave her life for any man, it should be for him, not Duncan. He was her husband. The wind carried her fresh, soapy scent to him, and his throat muscles seemed to thicken. “On your own life, Alyssa? Will you give your life for his?”
She didn’t look up at him, as he’d hoped she would. Her expression often spoke more than her words. But her hand squeezing his thigh, fell slack. She probably didn’t realize that she’d given him his answer.
“Aye,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “He’s more valuable to you.”
She spoke to his knees. He cupped her chin and lifted so he could see her face. His heart slammed into his throat. “Tears? Do you cry for yourself, wife, or for your warrior?”
“Kevan, I give you my word. Duncan has served you well. If one of us must die to appease you, take my life. Not his.”
“You are no longer Lady Alyssa, nor a Cameron,” Kevan said softly. “You are Lady Buchannan. My wife.”
“Aye,” she sobbed. “But even as Lady Buchannan I’m worth less to you than a trusted soldier such as Duncan. Please, Kevan. I—I beg you.”
Hearing broken sobs from his proud little warrior wrenched Kevan’s heart. She’d sacrificed her pride, and he knew that had cost her mightily. He hugged her to him and lifted her into his arms. “Hush your tears.”
She clung to him and cried. He tightened his hold. She fitted in his arms like she was born to them, and a protective tenderness he didn’t understand surged up from deep inside him. “Shh, enough. Enough. Duncan is safe.”
She looked up at him and sniffled. “You will not kill him?”
“Nay.” Kevan brushed at a tear clinging to her cheek with his thumb.
“Or me?”
The joy on her face stole his breath and set his heart to pounding wildly. That irritated him and he snarled at her. “Nay—not just yet.”
“Oh, Kevan.” She buried her face in his neck and showered him with tiny kisses. “Thank you.”
Her affection stunned him, but it pleased him, too. It was a wife’s duty to cling to her husband, to show she cared for him. “Alyssa. Alyssa.” He reared back. “Quit your kisses, woman. I wish to speak to you.”
She stilled in his arms, and he smiled to soften his reprimand. “First, never underestimate your value to me. You are my wife. Second in my heart only to my God and my King. And next, never kiss me like that—”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kiss you at all. It just—”
She meant never to kiss him? Not bloody likely. “Hush, damn it.”
Her eyes grew wide and worried. She was nervous, he realized. He frowned at her. “You’re supposed to want to kiss your husband, Alyssa.”
“Oh.”
He couldn’t tell if that pleased her or not, and decided it did. She’d take years of instruction. And surprisingly, he was quivering with anticipation at the thought of teaching her. “Never kiss me like you did.” He brushed her lips with his words, teased her lips with the tip of his tongue. “Kiss me like this . . .”
Her every thought fled her mind. The sounds of the crackling fire, of the men readying to leave and the steady whistle of the wind all disappeared. She heard only her husband’s assurance of her value to him, and the soft murmurs of pleasure vibrating deep in his chest.
“A man can only clear his throat so many times without choking to death, Laird.”
Without setting Alyssa from him, Kevan turned to David and growled. “You’d best have good reason for—”
David grinned. “The clans are waiting to pay their respects before they leave. If you’ve time for them, that is.”
David’s goading hit its mark. Kevan laughed deeply, his chest rumbling against hers. Heat surged to her cheeks.
He set her down and pulled her to his side. “Aye. We have time, don’t we wife?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “We have time.”
Outside, Kevan accepted the clan’s respects and the well wishes on his marriage with Alyssa standing at his side. Grant and Lindsay pledged their loyalty to his wife of their own accord, greatly pleasing him. But Clan MacMillian was less enthusiastic. Its lord was still smarting over his second son, young James, being fostered for training to a clan being led by a woman.
