Chapter 18
She was still naked but no longer under Aonghus’s rapturous stare, no – where was she? After Aonghus had released a longing feeling she never knew existed at showing herself to a male, she had fallen into a restless slumber upon the bed as their passions could not be fully quenched.
A night-glance! This was where she had ventured. Her feet matched the rest of her body, which was always naked in the elements belonging to the night-glances at rest. Her nakedness in these was so odd; it seemed to forever symbolize baring her soul toward fate.
She blinked again. Here was the gray swirl engulfing her. Aye, definitely a night-glance at rest. The familiar fog, more like a mist, was present, almost like a blush by Mother Nature’s lips upon her flesh, when she took her first step.
The fumes from pine, like the tree bled sap, inflicted her nose, while the needles themselves were sharp beneath her toes.
A chirping from a sparrow’s sprightly singing was hinted in the distance.
This glance was the one from before; that sparrow is present once more.
There was a pull within as if fate had attached a string in her soul, compelling her toward the sounds which drowned out the sparrow’s song; it was the same familiar grinding at an unseen distance, almost like logs supporting an immense weight.
Ships. This was a second glance at the ships sailing upon dry land; the first she had beheld when she and MacCade were locked up in the tunnel after initially arriving at Stirling. Move it – get a better look at the enemy!
The fog grew into a heavy weight upon her back as if hands had formed from the vapors and began pressing her forward.
The sounds from wood, almost echoing like a painful groan, filled the air.
There. As if a hand brushed away the clouds, she spied the very edge of a ship’s hull, but an inward huff of frustration sounded when the low-lying pine branches blocked her view as the ship began to move at a swifter pace out of her line of vision.
Was that a dragon? She bolted forward, but the effort was in vain when the cloud swallowed her whole. No! She must see whose fleet or where or…
A scream tore her throat as her body caught air while she was falling. The bed! She was awake and had spun, flipping off from the bed violently…
Two hands captured her mid-air before the unforgiving floorboards slammed her bare flesh.
Looming above her was her savior. “MacCade,” she said, breathless.
“Aye, I have you, Keirah.” His worried tone matched his expression. “Are you well? You kept kicking the pallet as if racing then fell clear off.”
Resting her throbbing temple from the cost of measure against his naked shoulder, the words spilled from her in frustration while he tucked her onto the bed safely and into his embrace.
“Aye, ’twas a night-glance – ships sailing land once more, ugh!
I cannot see the terrain they cross but they are King H?konsson’s fleet, of this I am certain.
They do not bear the symbol from House of Kolbeck at the bow, but a dragon’s head carved, same as those that sailed from Bj?rgvin. ”
“Ships sailing land?”
Her eyes rose, meeting his. “When spoken, aye, the rendering does sound daft. The Northmen, they lay a series of logs upon the solid soil, then the ships are tethered to ropes as they are pulled across solid terrain. I fear for the purpose they call upon the feat unlike any other. The pace they travel in task is brisk, calling to…” Her voice trailed off, haunted.
“War.”
She rubbed her aching eyes. “Aye. ’Tis the second night-glance.
Yet all I see are only a forest filled by pines with a meadow beyond.
I cannot harbor any other markings in structures to render where they seek to siege.
” She buried her face in his bare neck; the strength he gave was addictive, his arms about her.
Every glance, she’d had to soothe herself over the years after portraits of blood or death, much worse than ships sailing across a meadow, had appeared.
Having him here, then having him catch her mid-air and keep her safe…
her lips pressed his tender flesh lining the curve belonging to his neck.
He gave a low rumble at her intimate touch.
“Thank you for catching me, MacCade.” She looked up again while asking, “How is it you were able to bolt from the floor so quickly?”
Her eyes darted toward the coverlet he had laid out on the floor after he had loved her with his kisses and his gaze. It was considered best by both to place a wee bit of distance after, or her veil would have been laid to ruin after her chemise had vanished.
“I cannot claim all.” He nodded toward the far chair by the hearth when a chirp echoed through the chamber. “I awoke from him singing in the middle of the night – very strange. I believe it is the same one I saw in the tunnel.”
“The sparrow.” She watched the tiny wings take flight, then angle sideways, sailing away by vanishing through the arrow slit back out into the moonlight.
Locking eyes again with MacCade, she explained, “There are times an element follows me from a night-glance. ’Tis hard to describe; they manifest themselves in all sorts of odd ways.
I refer to them as ‘remnants’. The sparrow has been present at both night-glances with the ships.
If only I could catch a glance upon a castle or abbey or burgh, thus it would ease for me the direction they sought.
Ugh!” Another huff of frustration blew from her lips.
“Lord Kollungr would claim a rage fit at such a lacking glance on my behalf.”
At the mention of Kollungr, a long silent moment proceeded as Aonghus’s brow furrowed. “My Cluaran, may I ask what the history is on how Kollungr stole you from Scottish shores?” he asked, his tone gentle.
He should know. She re-rested her cheek onto his shoulder, releasing a long sigh; the sprigs upon his torso waved like a midnight field in the wind.
“’Twas my own fault. The abbesses sought the burgh when delivering medicinals at a cottage belonging to an apothecary who had aided the abbey when a root fungus destroyed a portion of their garden’s reserves.
” Her fingers swayed over the blanket of muscle upon his forearm – Huh – it gave her the courage to relive the memory.
“Eager to be in attendance on such a journey, at the age of ten and five, I wandered away from them toward the bustle to admire all the sights surrounding the burgh. ’Twas market day; the trone gate was measuring all the fares from those seeking to purchase something.
A pair of young lads were practicing their archery nearby and it gave rise to a calamity in events leading to a wee lad, perhaps five winters old, being trampled by an ox cart belonging to a trapper.
My glance showed the fate about to befall the wee one, so I dashed toward him, dragging the innocent from harm’s way.
“I should have waited for the moment to strike closer before the events unleashed, as I had done many times at the abbey. Those present with the clergy never knew of my clan’s instinct in senses.
” She squeezed her eyes shut: raging hell, there she was once more in that moment at the burgh.
“In its stead I bolted too early before the event happened.
The lad hollered at my gruff grab; this claimed the attentions from all those in nearby attendance.
I simply could not chance him after the horror the shadow-glance had revealed.
“Once the cart charged by, in my line of vision appeared the Northman. The moment Lord Kollungr’s eyes met mine, I knew.
It became clear his cunning mind had deducted the events and what I was.
In the confusion unleashed by the oxen, Lord Kollungr grabbed me.
The ship for Bj?rgvin took to the sea that very eve as he took my spirit in his fist.” She opened her eyes and raised up, locking them on his.
“The very spirit you so admire and have placed back into my soul, Aonghus. To have you here with me, MacCade – words cannot give enough credence to the emotions it untethers. You spoke of strength earlier; I could not show any of this outward as I do now with you.” Her fingers grazed his torso.
Thank all above, it wasn’t a dream, he is here.
His tone was absolute. “You speak as if this was your own fault in being caught; nae, Keirah. ’Twas not.” He brushed the damp hairs from her temple. “Upon the morrow we shall commence regarding archery trainin’. Originally, I had considered Sir Brayden, but Alec is equally gifted with the bow.”
At the mention of his friend, she inquired, “Why does Sir Brayden find sudden interest in the terrain beneath his toes when I appear?”
Aonghus took a deep breath. “Well, Sir James prefers to hail him as Sir Shy – whenever a lassie draws near Sir Brayden, he tightens in a manner belonging more to an ocean clam than a knight,” he explained. “It has grown worse in times of late.”
Her curiosity was strong at a topic which did not include Northmen or war. “The reason?”
“A lady in waiting for Queen Margaret has returned to Stirling bringing with her word of the queen consort still residing in Edinburgh regarding the royal bairn to be.”
“The queen consort is with child?”
“Aye.”
Her eyes lowered. This will never be me.
“Cluaran.” She kept her gaze looking at the tiny sprig near his taut nipple. “You yearn for this as well?”
She peeped, “Aye.” Her eyes raised; his brow was furrowed.
“’Twill never come to pass, so dwelling may only unleash ill feelings.
” He opened his mouth to reply. There’s that determined expression in his eyes.
“Please, MacCade, I wish to speak upon it nae more.” Focus on hope.
“Sir Brayden, he fancies this lady in waiting to the queen consort?”
Aonghus paused, then nodded. “Very much, for quite some time now. Lady Maise.”
“How endearing.” A welcome smile graced her lips. “Then you must have Sir Brayden tend to my lessons regarding archery. The trade shall be even; he teaches me the art of the arrow, and I will help him conquer a conversation with this Lady Maise.”
“It shall be arranged.”
She pivoted onto the topic he mentioned.
“Queen Margaret,” she began. “To consider her maidenhead veil was broken in a bedchamber with a gathering of onlookers taking heed in the act belonging to consummation, as is a royal’s duties.
” A grim shiver took her. “She was only ten and one, with her husband a year younger, when they wed!”
“The act did keep till later in age,” he added.
“True,” she agreed. “Still” – she gave another quiver – “to be with your husband before a captive audience…I am thankful we are not of their station, when your hands found my flesh and removed my garments for your sight this eve.” She glanced at the nest on the floor, then his attire, which still consisted of braies and chausse and waist strap.
“MacCade, I would care a great deal to have you here with me the remainder of the eve till dawn. What say you?”
His hand found her bare backside, giving a squeeze in reply.
Releasing a gasp with a sigh, she laid her head once more onto his torso, finding the loveliest trench between the muscles lining his shoulder and collarbone which seemed created only for her – Ahh.
In three breaths, exhaustion claimed her after the disturbing night-glance. But had she ever felt safer? Never.