Chapter 12
"We would do better to split up," Lex said to the men of his clan when they reached the edge of the woods. The weather had just turned for the worse and the flakes of winter's snow started to fall from the sky. The smell of pine and the cool drops of melting ice on his face brought back vivid memories of his childhood spent in these very woods. Unfortunately, not all of them were good memories. Many were marred by the presence of his father and his ruthless cruelty.
"I will be staying with Lex to assure my hide," Rory shouted to the others who were already heading off in groups of three.
"MacEwen be too ill to be worryin' over yurr skinny butt," a graying man named Oran yelled back at him. "You two handsome ones just woo the game out for us and we will be showin' the chieftain some real huntin'."
"We will see whose bags are filled when we meet up on the other side." The men were too far off to hear him any longer, but Rory kept on with his boasting. "None will bring back more than the MacLachlan. Never happened before and it never will."
"You are sure putting a lot of faith in a man who has not shot a bow in over twenty years. This is not how we go about getting food in London." Lex nudged his horse on through the thickening pines. He was sure they would come up empty-handed. Not because of his lack of practice with the bow, but because of Rory's insistent gabbing.
"Skill with the bow ain't somethin' you be forgettin' ever in your life. It is as natural to a Scottish chieftain as walkin'."
"I was not raised to be a chieftain, and I left Scotland and its ways behind long ago. This is not where my life is anymore." Lex wished everyone would stop being so welcoming to him and throwing him honors he did not want. As soon as his job here was done, he would be off to hunt down the next treasonous scum and they would be looking for another chieftain to shoulder their care. It was best he finished up here as soon as possible before they bled him dry as well.
"What da ya mean you have no life here? What about missy Sandra and your child? You are the only thin' she has now that her father has turned her out. Purr thin' was hurtin' from that loss somethin' bad before you and her came around. And no finer woman could a man ask for."
Lex studied Rory's features closely as he spoke of Sandra. It was obvious that the young man had deep feelings for her. But just how deep? "You seem to be awfully close to her for not being in her clan."
"She took us all into her clan and her heart the moment we asked." Again Rory's face hid none of his admiration for the woman. Lex had seen that dazed look in men's eyes before when they spoke of a woman, and always it was a man smitten in love. "We was all wary of our fate in the MacEwen's hands, but wee Sandra turned all our faces smilin' with her tender ways. She welcomed us all like family and gave each of us somethin' to be proud of after the tearin' apart we did of our clan, a real place in the MacEwen family."
Lex felt his jaw tighten with every kind word Rory said about Sandra. He had felt the same way Rory did each time she was near him, but he had held her away and thought it a trick to trap him. Rory and the others had taken her sweet kindness eagerly, and it looked like they had indeed been rewarded. Rory was not the only one he had seen that love-sunken look on. All of his clan was in love with the golden enchantress, and more than likely so was all of her clan. Everyone but him had been melted by her sunny smile, but now he feared more for his sanity after hearing Rory ramble off his praises of her. He had foolishly allowed himself a taste of her sweetness. He had allowed her in for the briefest of time. He had made love to her like the cherished wife of his dreams, yet his dreams had never included a wife. He had allowed too much already. He could not afford to bask in her kindness ever again.
"So she won the final feud for her clan and you all fell down before her the first time you laid eyes on her?" Lex could hear the sarcasm in his voice as well as a slight hint of jealousy he tried hard to ignore.
"It was not the first time I had laid eyes on her sweet face. We shared some time together before that."
With one hard tug the metal bit stretched back the horse's mouth until he had no choice but to rein in. The sudden halt startled Rory out of his glazed-over reminiscence and brought him face to face with Lex's rage. "I knew there was more to the two of you than friendly neighbors."
"Aye, there is. She be the first lassie I--"
Lex reached over and pulled Rory toward him by the collar of his tunic. His hand grasped the coarse fabric so tightly the skin over his knuckles turned white. The horse under Rory was burdenless. His rider's full weight was lifted by Lex's flexed arm. "Do not lie to me. She was a virgin when she came to my bed."
"I was goin' ta say the first lassie I wanted to marry." Lex let him go slowly and kept a watchful eye on his shaking sword hand.
"You thought to marry a MacEwen? The heiress, no less?"
"I did not know she was the MacEwen Charm the first time we met. She was but twelve and swimmin' naked in the pond one summer. Without our plaids there was no fuedin', but when the MacEwen came to retrieve her back to their castle there was no doubt left in my mind that she would never be mine. I am just pleased that she is again a part of my life. Wife or not, she is the best things of any woman all packed into one wee person with one very huge heart."
Lex should have been pleased that Rory had nothing but respect for the woman who was his current wife…or temporary wife. But inside he could still feel the remains of the emotions he could not explain. Emotions he had never felt before. He did not want her for his wife, but he did not want any other man to have her either. Just the thought of Rory or Mangus touching her the way he had...
"We best do less talking and more hunting if we want to eat tonight. The way this snow is falling, I doubt we will have any more opportunities to hunt." Lex took the lead again and heard no further comments from Rory on the subject of his adorable wife. But silence obviously was not something Rory could live with.
"How are the women in London? I hear they put colors on their skin like dolls and smell like flowers of spring all year round."
"Women there are called ladies but most of them are far from the minimum standard. They ride in carriages, have shoes on their feet, and wear creamy fabrics instead of wool tartans. Other than that..." he turned and gave Rory a sideways grin, "...they are exactly the same underneath it all."
Rory let out a roar of laughter that flushed out a pair of birds from a tree. "Take the shot!" he yelled to Lex.
By the time Lex fumbled with the awkward bow on his back and got his arrow loaded, the birds were already long gone. He saw Rory look away as if trying to find more game, but he knew what was going through the young man's thoughts. He was their chieftain and he could not even hunt to feed himself, let alone a clan of thirty. His skills with the bow had faded with time, just as his Scottish pride had sunk to the bottom of that mud puddle behind Corkie's tavern.
"I knew yurr purrty faces would bring us luck," came a raspy old voice from somewhere off the path in the brush nearby. When Oran and his partner stumbled out through an over-growth of blaeberry, they were proudly displaying Lex and Rory's two doves, as well as a bag stuffed full with other triumphant catches. "You boys just keepin' a feather off each of yurr birds?" Oran laughed and pointed to the flat bags hanging from both of their saddles.
"If we killed all we saw there would be nothin' left for you purr bastards. Then what would you have to brag about with that ugly mug of yurr's?" Rory laughed right along with them as they took his insult with good humor.
Lex began to feel the edge of a smile pull at the side of his lips as the men's infectious good humor toward each other soaked into his frozen skin. He had not known camaraderie like this with any of his acquaintances in England. Those men used him for his skills with a sword and paid him in gold for his troubles. There was not much friendship past a shared cup of strong ale wherever they met to exchange goods for payment.
But these men told no lies to each other and had no hidden reasons behind what they did or said. And why should they? They were clan, and clan came before everything else in the Highlands. Without a clan you were nothing, a lesson he had learned too well at a young age in the streets of England. But his clan was still here, and these men had welcomed him back as if he had never left. And all because he was a MacLachlan, one of their blood.
"What say we find our kin and head back for some good eatin'?" said Rory.
"We saw Derik and Erin just at the edge of the water with their eyes heavy on a red deer bigger than yurr horse. Probably still sittin' there on their frozen rumps just like we left 'em," answered Oran. "Come on, I will show ya how we wake up sleepin' hens around here."
Lex and Rory followed the other two men through the woods until they came to the edge of the riverbank on the far side of MacLachlan territory. When they broke through the trees on their horses they were greeted with a foul oath.
"God bless it!" said Erin from where he lay on the ground, his fingers relaxing his bowstring. "I about had her. Now look where she is. We will never be able to reach her that far on the other side of the banks." The black-haired man threw his bow to the ground with another Gaelic oath and used his freed hands to rub his frozen butt back to life.
"So you did not get anything but a numb arse either," Oran gloated in the same laughing voice he had used on Lex and Rory.
"I would rather have a frozen ass than a mug as ugly as yours on my head," Erin answered back with a quick flip of his plaid and a flash of his red butt to all.
"Butts and mugs ain't what gets ya the lassies' kisses. It be the meat-winners they want. My shanks are getting hot just thinkin' about Kate's sweet lips." Oran licked his lips with his eyes closed as if he were dreaming of a juicy meat pie. Erin lunged up from his bent-over butt-showing position. When the two thudded to the solid ground, Oran's eyes were definitely open.
"Do not ya be speakin', lookin', or even thinkin' of my Kate in that way, ya old hairy arse. If ya had anythin' under that skirt worth offerin' to a woman ya would have replaced Elizabeth by now." Erin grabbed Oran's plaid up with a laugh. "It looks like the nip of winter has finished off what little ya had, Oran. I am not worried about ya by my Kate after all." Erin got up off of the growling old man and extended his arm. Oran took it with a hard jerk and got to his feet.
"I will be pokin' her from across the tables once I get me butt warmed up again."
"No one told me we were hunting for kisses." Lex pulled his bow from over his shoulder, loaded his arrow, and aimed at the large red deer nibbling on the last of winter's leaves far off on the other side of the stream. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rory's nervous glances from him to the deer and back again.
"Them London women must have starved ya if yurr willin’ to waste a fine feather arrow on that shot." Rory's comment held a hint of merriment, but Lex could tell it was meant to lessen his disgrace when he missed.
"I have never lacked a woman to fulfil my appetites...and no one under my care will go hungry either." He gave the bowstring one last stretch back to ensure its power, then he let it whistle free of his hold.
No Scottish burr broke the cool breeze as the men stood as still as the trees and watched the path cut by the silver tip of the arrow. From the great distance that they were from the doe, it was hard to even see if the arrow found its mark. When the deer staggered and fell to its knees a loud hoot went up from all the men who had been holding their breath...including Lex.
"You'll not be lackin' in kisses tonight, that is for sure," said one of the men with a robust slap to Lex's back.
"Aye. I have never seen finer shootin'," Rory added with his own wide grin. He was beaming with pride as if he had shot it himself. "Just like walkin' for a chieftain," he said with a wink, "ya never be forgettin' what is in yurr blood."
"A true MacLachlan indeed. Just like his father," roared Oran. The others supported his sentiments with a loud cheer.
Lex had always wanted to hear those words. He had tried his whole young life to be as tough and strong as his father. Now that he was here, back in the Highlands and surrounded by men who accepted him as their chieftain out of faith, he no longer had any desire to be anything his father was.
"I am not my father. I am nothing like him," he said dryly with no mirth in his tone or features.
"Of course yurr not, Lexxie, yurr heart's far larger and exactly what this clan has been needin' for decades." Again everyone joined in and supported Oran. "But tell me now, our good chieftain, who is goin' to cross over to the MacEwen's banks to get that fine piece of meat?"
Lex looked around at all the men and noticed they were no longer laughing. They were dead serious about not crossing the centuries-old boundary between MacLachlan and MacEwen lands.
"I have already breached the MacEwen boundaries last night in my chamber, but this I swear will not be nearly as pleasant." The men's hoots this time were like music to Lex's ears.
"I will fight ya for the job," Rory challenged with his sword blade already drawn.
Lex looked at Rory's large claymore as he slowly drew his short sword from his side. "I hope you enjoy gutting a doe," he said with a smile that accepted Rory's challenge. "I have grown rich from my talents with this blade."
"And I am alive today because of mine," Rory touted his skills.
Lex waited until Rory took the first jab. With a sword as large as that it would not be long before the young buck's arms lost their strength, and Lex knew that was when he would win.
Lex countered Rory's every attack with ease. He saw the weariness creeping up on Rory. His arms began to sag lower with each strike and his blade rested on the ground longer in between.
"I will get ya this time," Rory yelled out as he raised his huge blade over his head with both hands and charged at Lex as if he meant to kill him with one blow. Lex knew his wait was over.
Lex prepared to counter Rory's attack with his hardest defense yet, one that was sure to knock the blade from Rory's weak grip. But to his surprise, Rory dove for the ground, rolled over his own shoulder and kicked up into Lex's unprotected stomach with his feet.
When he caught his breath he was flat on his back and Rory's sword tip was at his throat.
"I thought this was to be a fair fight of chivalrous blades," Lex said as he pushed Rory's weapon aside and grasped his offered hand to stand up.
"I fight the Highland way. I am alive and you are dead. That is all that would have mattered."
For some reason Lex did not feel bested or cheated among these men. They ribbed him and slapped his back as if he had been the winner. They even rooted for him as he crossed the knee-high stream on his horse to gut his kill. He was not just an outsider listening to their jokes any longer. He was their chieftain.
How easily it all returned, he thought. It had taken years for the hurt of being sent away to fade. It never really went away, it was just covered over repeatedly by hardened lessons in his life. Like wondering where he would find food when the plants of the land were foreign to him and he carried no coin. Or when he learned to draw a man's blood to get that coin. The only reality that he knew now was that the strength of his sword could bring justice to those offended and reap payment from the offender. That was why he was here, he reminded himself. Nothing could erase the hurt of being cast out, driven from his family, nothing but seeing the MacEwen rot in the tower for murdering his brother.
The warm blood of the red deer spilled freely over the frozen ground as he made a quick slice down her belly. He saw the blood. He saw his brother. His father. The MacEwen. They were all there, and there was so much blood.
"Now there is only one thing left to do," Rory yelled across the stream and broke Lex free of the downward spiral that had threatened his sanity so many times since that forsaken day. He tried to remember, but he could not or would not. "How are you going to find a bribe in the middle of winter to get this meal cooked?"
Lex vaguely remembered the old custom of bribing the women to get them to clean and cook the catch. All the men had participated in the bribe with as much vigor as the hunt, all but his father. When the slaughtering was over so was the fun. He never brought back one bouquet, one sprig of pine, nothing. And Lex remembered all too well his mother's stiff smile masking the hurt in her eyes.
"I am nothing like my father," he swore to himself. There it was again. The shouting between his father, the MacEwen, and his brother. Then the scream of pain. It had become such a part of him that even now he felt as if he had taken the blade in his chest instead of his brother. And finally, the part that always followed the others, the blood, warm and wet on his winter-chilled hands. It flowed from his brother's wound no matter where he put his hands to stop it. "Let it flow," he had heard his father say. "He is dead to me already."
"No!" Lex said under his breath. His eyes flew open wide and his stared up at the swirling gray storm clouds overhead to clear his mind of the blood. Ever since his return, the images of that day were coming more frequently and with more gruesome detail he had thought long forgotten, forgotten with everything else he had been raised with.
He was no longer a Highlander, and he no longer wanted to carry on the MacLachlan name with his blood. But until the MacEwen was well enough to ride with him to London to meet his fate, Lex knew he was forced to play the role of chieftain and Highlander. As for his newly acquired role as husband, he felt no obligations at all.