“After a long reign of peace and prosperity, the High King Lugh died and was laid to rest. He left his powerful Wheel to the priests to safeguard for generations of future High Kings. But when the new religion of Christ Jhesu came to those shores, great battles raged across the land for the souls of the people, and the Wheel fell into the hands of a missionary. Knowing its power, he smashed it and hid the four pieces away from the eyes of men . . .”
From the Chronicle of Lugh
Sinclairs crowded the Great Hall, and Innes knew the reason. Conall.
Whatever the expectation of the clan, however, the earl of Caithness stood handsome and aloof in a corner, deep in conversation with a swarthy, battered warrior, paying no attention at all to the hopeful glances of others who sought his company.
In the role of laird, his brother Bryce played his part well. After opening the gathering from his great chair and receiving the greetings of his people, he moved from table to table, addressing people by name, asking questions and listening to the answers, laughing at jokes, drinking to their toasts. He was the perfect host.
But Innes’s gaze never strayed too far away from the earl. His reaction to this event matched what she expected of him. He was injured—not just in body, but in soul.
“You’ll notice that they’ve moved our table from the dais,” Ailein said. “We’ll be eating there.”
She pointed to a table to the side beneath a tapestry. Innes didn’t have to ask why. That was certainly the work of the earl. He stood near it, close to the door through which he could escape to his lair at any time.
As she was looking at him, he glanced over and, embarrassed to have been caught, she looked up at the tapestry. It was a highly imaginative and colorful work, depicting two monstrous, bearded, club-wielding creatures holding between them a shield with the Sinclair coat of arms. This was a much newer piece than the ones she’d seen in the gallery. Displays of gleaming weaponry flanked the tapestry.
Bryce crossed the Great Hall and joined his brother and the warrior. The two men exchanged a few words, and Conall’s gaze swept across the packed hall. He shook his head.
“You were correct. He’s taller than Bryce,” Ailein whispered in her ear. “And broader in the shoulders.”
Innes felt the small nudge, pushing her toward the men. Before coming down, she’d warned Ailein that her stay at the dinner would be brief. Now she wished she hadn’t come at all. A skittish feeling deep in her stomach unsettled her. She was nervous, excited, out of her element. Would he remember every word they’d said to each other on the strand or would he only recall her sharpness? She dug in her heels, refusing to be moved toward them.
“He has beautiful eyes,” Ailein whispered. “Very intense.”
Innes wholeheartedly agreed, but she wasn’t going to admit it. “And how would you know? You haven’t even been introduced to him.”
“Look at the women standing by those tables near them. Look at the way they try to get his attention.”
Innes didn’t care for the unexpected stab of jealousy that went through her like a hot blade. She glanced at the nearest door but before she could move in that direction, her sister grabbed the back of her dress, steering her toward the three men.
“I think I like his beard and that wild mane of hair,” Ailein added. He hadn’t tied it back for the occasion. “It definitely gives him an air of danger and mystery.”
Innes looked from Bryce’s clean-shaven face to Conall’s. Beauty and the Beast. Still, she agreed with her sister. And, though she’d never let on to Ailein, she preferred the Beast.
Bryce said something, and a rare smile appeared on the older brother’s face. He had perfect, straight teeth. But as quickly as the smile surfaced, it disappeared.
They were near enough now that Innes had an uninterrupted view of the men.
Ailein took hold of her arm, stopping her. “Let’s wait here for a moment, shall we?”
Innes nodded, turning to her sister and trying to look at anything but Conall.
Wynda, the matriarch of the clan, was circulating in the hall as Bryce had been doing. The steward Lachlan limped about on the periphery, ordering the servants. The only other Munro in the hall was Jinny, who appeared to be happily settled at Girnigoe. Innes watched her laughing with a group of women at something one of them was saying. The priest Fingal sat nearby, drinking steadily as he lectured men sitting at the far end of the table. None of them appeared to be paying the least attention to him.
Innes’s gaze uncontrollably returned to Conall. Tonight he wore a white shirt under his tartan. She admired the fit of it on his chest. Her gaze moved downward. He had one foot up on a stool, exposing a knee and the muscles of a powerful calf. She stared at his leg, unable to understand her fascination with this man’s body. Twenty-seven years of age. She thought she was immune to such a reaction to a man. Why now? Why him?
“He’s staring at you.”
Innes glanced up into his face, realizing she’d been caught again. She turned to her sister. “Can I go now?”
“You are not going.” Ailein grabbed her by the elbow. “You’re here for me, remember?”
The third man walked away, and Bryce and Conall approached them. Introductions and formalities were exchanged between Ailein and the earl. Innes thought about their conversation this morning. She stayed behind her sister and listened.
“I want to apologize, m’lady, that this is our first meeting and for missing the opportunity of meeting your father at the wedding.”
Though his face was stern, neither his words nor his tone revealed any hint of accusation. She relaxed slightly.
Her sister was at her gracious best. “We’re brother and sister now, so please, no more formalities. I am just Ailein. And I’m certain you and our father will have many other occasions to meet.”
“I hope so,” Conall said with a slight bow.
At that moment, their aunt Wynda called to Bryce. He excused himself before crossing the room to her.
Ailein moved to Conall’s side and gestured toward Innes. “I understand that you’ve already met my sister.”
His gaze traveled from the hair that Jinny had insisted on braiding, down the length of her black dress to the tips of her shoes, and then back up. When he reached Innes’s face, he lingered over every flaw.
“Indeed. I’ve had the pleasure.”
Innes let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding.
“Very good. Then I can leave her in your hands. Watch her. You’ll find she’s a slippery sort, and I know she’ll try to escape the hall before dinner is served.”
Innes sent her sister a baleful glare, but she had no chance to respond before Ailein ran off to join Bryce and Wynda. Conall stepped over beside her.
“She’s not what I expected,” he said in a low voice. “She’s quite pleasant.”
Innes had a hundred and one complaints about her sister right now, but she held her tongue. This was Ailein’s new home. She needed to be accepted, and the Sinclairs only needed to see her virtues.
“Aye, she is pleasant,” she agreed. “And Bryce is clearly a patient man. That will be a blessing for both of them.”
“She’s also beautiful. They’re well suited.”
“The two of them make a striking pair.”
“And they need to settle whatever this quarrel is between them.”
Her resolve this morning that she didn’t want to get involved evaporated, considering what she knew. “I believe their relationship is already mending.”
“How do you know?”
For a lengthy moment, Innes struggled trying to come up with a logical answer.
“Did your sister say something?” he pressed.
Innes shook her head. “I can tell from the way she talks about Bryce. She is definitely smitten.”
“Good. Because I believe he is, too.”
Their gazes were drawn to Bryce escorting his wife to their table. The newlyweds smiled and talked to a group as they passed, but there wasn’t a word spoken between them. There were no smiles. No touches. No displays of affection.
“They still need more fixing,” he said close to her ear. “Are they always this formal?”
“I believe so,” she admitted, her skin tingling from the brush of his breath. “Although I am rarely here to witness it.”
“But you made an exception tonight.” He looked at her.
Innes was running the risk of drowning in those eyes. “I was forced to attend.”
“So was I.”
“I can’t imagine anyone forcing you to do anything against your will.”
“Very well. I felt obligated.”
“You mean Bryce asked, and you came.”
“The same with you?”
“Hardly. I screamed and fought, but Ailein wouldn’t hear it. She brought in a small army of servants, who bound and gagged me and dragged me down here. I only slipped my ropes at the door of the Great Hall, but by then it was too late.”
There was a brief flash of white teeth again, and her heart beat faster in her chest.
“Bound, you say.” He leaned closer and whispered. “I had no idea of how interesting your sister’s approach could be.”
There was a delicious twist low in her belly. “I don’t recommend that you use her methods,” she told him, feeling bolder. “I have claws.”
“I’d be willing to feel your claws, under the right circumstances.”
Her cheeks caught fire, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his. “Beware, Conall Sinclair. You’ll find my teeth are sharper than your wolf’s.”
“I taught Thunder to kiss, rather than bite.”
“He’s still barely more than a pup. I, on the other hand, am well past the age of instruction. You know what they say about teaching old dogs.”
“Old? You? If you’re old, then Hell’s lake has iced over. And I could fly this castle to Jerusalem. You, old?” He snorted. “Hardly.”
“Is this your idea of sweet talk?” She smiled. “I may swoon at any moment.”
Bryce and Ailein were already seated at the table. Conall extended his arm for her to take. “So another challenge. I’ll show you sweet talk and look forward to seeing how strongly you resist my charm.”
“Did you say ‘charm’?” She put a gloved hand on his arm. He looked down at it. “You underestimate my defenses.”
“I find it interesting that you wear gloves at all times. Much like dressing in black. No doubt, they form a part of your armament.”
Innes said nothing. He had no idea how close he was to the truth.
As they neared the table, the exchange between Bryce and Ailein reached them.
“Bueford is a fine name,” Ailein said.
“For a horse, maybe,” Bryce retorted with a huff. “Nay, I wouldn’t even use it for a horse.”
“Osnot?”
“Osnot? By all that’s holy, what are you thinking? Would you condemn the lad to a life of mockery?”
“You’re never satisfied with anything I say.” Ailein spread her hands in frustration. “Very well. What about Frang? You surely can’t object to Frang.”
“Are we deciding on a name for our child or a gargoyle?”
Innes and Conall exchanged a look as they arrived at the table.
“I have the perfect name.” Ailein smiled. “Nevaeh.”
“What does that mean?”
“Heaven, said backwards.”
“Heav . . . ?” Bryce slapped the table in obvious exasperation. “Woman, why don’t you just call him Hell, or Lucifer, or Thunder’s Arse?”
“Are they really arguing over a name for their bairn?” Conall whispered in Innes’s ear as she sat.
Innes knew her sister well enough to recognize that Ailein was attempting to act. But for what purpose? “I believe they are.”
“Well, Thunder’s Arse won’t do,” he murmured. “I won’t have them naming their child after my wolf. It would be too confusing.”
She bit her lip to keep from laughing.
He sat himself next to her, continuing to speak in a low voice to her alone. “I could be mistaken, but I always thought the birth of a child required a certain physical activity for the joyous event to take place.”
“I believe you’re correct in that.”
“Well, listening to them now, I’m not holding out much hope.”
“But I am,” Innes replied, and turned to Wynda on her other side so she wouldn’t have to explain further.
The feast is long over, the castle slumbers, and the morning breaks. I watch the bloodred dawn and remember.
This is the day—so many years ago—that my love was taken from me. Aye, they took him from me. My own blood kin tracked us down, seized him in his own great hall, tore him from my arms, dragged him into the courtyard, and killed him.
He was dead. Never to return to me. I was already carrying his bairn, but he was a good man and we would have married. I cried out, “Our love is true!” But the laird would hear none of that. He looked at me with blind rage. I thought he would kill me then, as well. How often have I wished he’d done it! How will I ever blot out the memory of those screams, of his life’s blood running down between the stones?
I see him still. His beautiful face, now battered; his eyes that once looked at me with nothing but love, now lifeless and blank. Aye, all that was left of him, lying there in my lap, staining my apron and my hands and my cheek with his thickening blood.
They looked on me with disgust, as if it was I who’d gone mad. I, who simply wanted to be with the man I loved. And later, when darkness fell and they stood around me—a circle of torchbearers afraid to come closer—I realized that the cries echoing in the Highland hills were my own.