“Come,” Niall said, extending his hand. “Let us go out, and walk among our people.”
Our people. It was the first time in the two days since they had returned together from the cottage, that he’d said the words. Elspeth’s heart brimmed with happiness and pride she had not known could be possible. At last it seemed real that she and Niall were married, and they would build a life together, here in this place that they both loved.
As part of the agreement between Niall and her father, the MacClaren, Bridget and her sisters had departed earlier that morning to take residence some distance away in what had been Elspeth’s home when she was a child—the castle that had been part of her tocher. They had taken many of their servants and warriors with them, as well as all items of importance to the MacClaren clan. However, a good number had remained, making it known they wished to swear fealty to the laird of Kincaid and to be part of a new future with him as their leader. Conall, however, never wavered in his loyalty to the MacClaren, and followed his chief.
Even so, Elspeth knew the loss of the others’ allegiance had pained her father. But he was firm in his assertion that Niall was the rightful lord of Inverhaven and its surrounding lands. And so it had been a bittersweet good-bye, with many tears from Elspeth and her sisters, but not all unhappy ones as her family was not so far that she would not see them again soon, and she would, as she remained concerned for her father’s health.
But hours had passed, and with them any vestige of sadness. She felt at peace. With Niall at her side, she had received the Kincaid people into the castle, and walked with many through the halls where she listened as they talked of memories. Others came bearing meaningful Kincaid relics, ancient weaponry and tapestries and carvings that had once hung in honor on the walls of the castle. Elspeth had seen that they were returned to their rightful places, and was rewarded by the gratitude and love she saw reflected in Niall’s eyes. He had pulled her aside for more than a few ardent kisses.
With the falling of night, bonfires burned, and a celebration unfolded. They meandered through, talking to Kincaids and MacClarens alike, letting it be known that in the coming days, everyone would have an audience with the chief and his lady, and that all would soon be settled on a parcel of land.
It was then that Elspeth saw the face of someone surprising, in the light of a distant fire. It was Magnus.
She looked to Niall, afraid he would be angry by the presence of an Alwyn clansmen, so close to their home, especially when she knew Niall’s pursuit of justice was not yet complete and there was still conflict with the Alwyn to come. But he looked steadily back at her.
“Go on, just this once. But tell him not to return. Our clans remain enemies, and I cannot have him here.”
She nodded. “Yes, I understand, and I will.”
She crossed the earth to stand beside Magnus and smiled at him.
“Is he angry I am here?” he asked. “Is he insisting that I go?”
“No.” She moved closer, peering into his eyes. “Well, yes. But you understand, don’t you?”
He nodded. “I do. But I went to the cottage and you were gone, I had to make sure you were all right.”
“I am well, Magnus. He is everything to me, and I am very happy.”
“Then I am happy for you.”
Elspeth’s heart expanded with joy and fondness at hearing his admission.
She reached to touch his arm. “Niall told me why you tried to force me to elope that night. Because you were trying to save me from a marriage to Hugh. Is that true?”
He nodded. “Buchan’s ward refused to marry him, and he turned his sights on you.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
He smiled, and nodded toward Niall. “It appears that you saved yourself. You have a devoted beast to protect you now.”
She clasped her hands together, and a different emotion rose up inside her chest. “And he will stop at nothing to learn the truth of that night. Who was responsible for the deaths of his family. You know he will come for the Alwyn, eventually. And you, if you stand with him.”
“I know.”
“You would be welcome here.”
“I know that too.” He looked at the fire. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “But this is not my home. Even so, you must tell Niall that the Alwyn has sent a messenger to Edinburgh, formally challenging his claim on these lands.”
“On what basis?” she demanded, drawing her plaid around her shoulders against a sudden gust of wind.
He glanced sideways at her. “On the basis he is an imposter, and not the true son of the Kincaid.”
Her heart flared with anger. “But he is the true son of the Kincaid.”
Magnus shook his head, and stood, straightening. “I know you believe that, but the Alwyn has a powerful ally and unless there is a way to prove his identity beyond a shadow of a doubt…”
“Niall has his own allies, Magnus,” she said, feeling the heat of anger rise in her cheeks, hating the danger that even now threatened her and Niall’s happiness. “And there is proof of his birth.”
“What proof?” he demanded quietly. “Truly, I wish to know. I need to know, so I know what to believe.”
Had she said too much? She drew back, turning from him. “I can’t tell you,” she answered softly. “It’s a secret, and I have promised not to tell.”
She would never betray Niall’s trust, and part of that meant protecting his secrets. He wanted so desperately to find his brothers. To know they were alive. If there was any hope of that, she must do all she could to help him.
“Then by all means,” Magnus replied sardonically. “I won’t beg you to tell.”
But if there was a way, through Magnus, to make the Alwyn back down …
She took several steps toward him. “He bears a secret mark, known only by those few who survive from his father’s council. He, himself, did not even know the importance of the mark until they told him. More than that, I cannot say.”
Magnus’s brows gathered. “What sort of mark?”
“A very distinctive tattoo,” she answered in a confidential tone. “But I won’t tell you where and you mustn’t tell anyone what I’ve said. If you are my friend, Magnus, you’ll promise that you won’t.”
He blinked slowly, and swallowed hard.
“Where is this tattoo?” he asked in a low voice.
“I already told you, I won’t tell you where,” she retorted. “To do so would be disloyal to my husband. It’s a secret that only a few Kincaid men know, and would swear to, that identifies the ancient line of the Kincaid.”
His shoulders straightened, and he searched the darkness, as if for Niall. “Take me to him.”
His voice was strange … intense.
“Why?” she asked
“I’ll only tell you both.”
She led him over the stony earth, to a smaller fire a distance away, where Niall sat with the Kincaid council, three old men who elbowed each other and smiled when she came near. Only for their smiles to fall away when they realized it was an Alwyn who accompanied her.
Her husband stood, looking sternly at Magnus.
“Niall,” she announced. “Magnus wishes to speak to you.”
“Yes?” he asked, his eyebrow going up dismissively.
“I would speak to you alone,” Magnus said, glancing at the men sitting there. “You and Elspeth.”
Niall set off across the grass, but did not go far, only a brief span of paces. Magnus and Elspeth followed.
“This is far enough,” said Niall.
“Whatever,” snapped Magnus. “Have them all hear, if you wish.”
He covered his mouth with his hand, and looking at Niall warily, he said, “Elspeth says you bear a distinctive tattoo, identifying you as a son of the Kincaid.”
Niall glanced darkly at Elspeth. Instantly, she was filled with enormous guilt. Why had she even mentioned it?
“I did not describe it,” she said defensively, lifting a hand. “I would not do that.”
“You must tell me what it looks like,” Magnus demanded.
“I will not,” answered Niall sharply, his eyes flashing a warning.
Magnus closed the distance between them, and the two men stood looking eye to eye.
“It’s very important. I need to know.”
Elspeth looked at Magnus in confusion.
“I can’t imagine why,” Niall answered, looking angry now—so angry Elspeth feared he would tell Magnus he had to leave, and that they would part as enemies.
“Curse you, Kincaid.” Magnus tore at his own tunic sleeve, wrenching the loose linen high to reveal his muscular arm. Lifting his elbow over his head, he stepped closer. “Does the damned thing look anything like this?”
Niall stared at his arm, his eyes widening.
“Good god,” her husband uttered hoarsely, lifting a hand to his mouth, his eyes shining.
“Oh, Niall.” Elspeth whispered, her heart pounding. “Magnus?”
At a distance, the Kincaid men rose to their feet.
* * *
Hours later, Niall pulled Elspeth into their chambers, which were dark save for the fire. Stopping there, at the door, he kissed her before leaving her to go to the window, where he pushed open the shutter and looked out on the night landscape of his lands.
Elspeth joined him there, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“My brother,” Niall said, holding her, his voice hushed. “I still can’t believe it. Magnus … Faelan, is alive.”
So many questions remained unanswered, such as how Faelan came to be living among the Alwyns, and known as their laird’s bastard son. They were answers even Faelan did not know.
“I’m so happy for you,” Elspeth whispered. “And him. My friend, all these years. What a wonderful shock.”
“Indeed.”
Though their reunion had been a happy and emotional one, Faelan had been understandably shocked and had insisted on secrecy for now. He had left Inverhaven in the night, just as he had come. But he and Niall would soon meet again, as brothers, to decide what must be done.
“If he is alive, then perhaps Cullen is as well,” she said, looking up at him.
He kissed her head, and stroked her hair. “I fear it is almost too much to hope for.”
“But hope, we must,” she answered, going up on her toes to kiss him.
He bent, and the smile left his face. He drew his thumb along the underside of her jaw.
“There is something I want to give to you,” he said. He took something that had been tucked into his belt. Holding her hand in his, he closed something hard and smooth inside her palm.
Opening her hand, she saw that she held a Kincaid badge. A smaller version of the one he wore. The wolf’s emerald eye glimmered in the night.
“It is the badge I wore as a boy. I want you to wear it, if you will.”
“Of course I will,” she said, smiling.
“Even though you are a MacClaren,” he teased.
“Nay, Niall,” she answered. “I am a Kincaid.”
He helped her fasten the brooch to the bodice of her gown, his touch slow and lingering, transforming into a caress against the upper swell of her breast … her throat … her cheek. Going up on her toes, she kissed his jaw.
“I love you,” he said, his hand touching her hair. “More than myself. Because of you … everything seems possible. I still don’t know what will happen. What our future will bring. But for now, this is all that matters. This life we are beginning together, you and me, and our people. Our daughters and sons. I will do everything within my power to protect and defend it.”
“As will I.” Bringing her hand up beneath his, she pressed a kiss to his palm. “I love you, Niall.”
He let out a low growl of pleasure, and bent to kiss her. She sensed the arousal growing up between them, and as proof, he urged her gently … seductively … backward toward the bed.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he murmured huskily. Catching her waist, he kissed her lips, more urgently. “I will never have enough of you.”
“Nor I of you,” she answered, her body and soul responding. “Take me to bed, husband.”
She gasped as he lifted her off the ground and carried her the rest of the way. There, in deeper shadows, he kissed her gently … sweetly, and she sighed, feeling blissful and utterly complete.
“I love all of your kisses,” she murmured, her eyes aglow with love.
“All of them, you say?” he teased, pressing her back against the pillows.
“Every … single … one.” She pulled him close and kissing his face, pressed her lips near his ear and whispered. “But truth be told, I like it best when you kiss me like a beast.”