Chapter 6
The thud of hooves against the packed earth echoed in the air as Caden raced Finlay. It was a silly, childish tradition, but it filled Caden’s lungs with fresh air and his heart with the little bit of joy it was capable of containing.
Once they reached the old yew tree at the entrance of the village, they would start their rounds.
However, this was one of the few moments that Caden allowed himself to forget his responsibilities as Laird.
He was able to enjoy his time with his brother, his horse’s powerful body flying him through the Highlands and the wind washing away any emotion.
It was a slice of heaven on earth.
Finlay’s horse, a black beast named Argus, pushed through the final leg over the bridge that crossed the river that led to the loch and arrived at the yew tree first.
The tree had been there for hundreds of years, guarded by Clan MacCabe, and would be there for hundreds more. Its twin stood in the castle’s outer courtyard.
Legend had it that the spirit of the loch, a lady in white, gave an ancient king and his bride two trees to mark their love for each other and her land, which she let them steward. She charged them with caring for the loch and the people who lived off of it.
So they took that responsibility to heart and planted a tree at the entrance to their kingdom and one in the courtyard to remind them of their duty to the people and the land.
The king and queen’s descendants lost land and power throughout the years, but never faltered in their duty.
Eventually, their kingdom became a clan called the MacCabes.
Caden studied the tree. He remembered his father sitting him and his siblings down beneath it, and telling them the story of the kindly king and queen. He had charged them with the duty of caring for the land and people, just as his father had done, and his father before him, and so on.
It was the greatest honor. Indeed, Caden would guard this land until the day he died. He could almost see his father sleeping under the tree. It brought a nostalgic smile to his face.
“Och, Braither, ye’re nae listening to anything I have to say!” Finlay protested.
“Ach, I’m sorry.” Caden rubbed the neck of his beloved white mount he called Michel, and urged him to follow Finlay’s horse.
“Where’s yer head at, Caden?” Finlay looked at him quizzically.
“I was thinkin’ about the day Faither told us the story of the tree.” Caden smiled sadly.
“A good day.” Finlay smiled back.
It had been a very good day, indeed. Perhaps they could tell Nathan the story of the tree when he was a little older. Perhaps Ava could be there too. Ah, there it was. She found a way to sneak into his thoughts when he was actively trying to think of something else, anything else.
In fact, he had only managed not to think of their conversation earlier that morning during the race.
“Now, will ye pull yer head out of the loch? I’m tryin’ to tell ye that some men were spotted in the village yesterday.” Finlay looked at him gravely.
“What? Why did ye nae tell me sooner?”
“I did, but ye werenae listening!” Finlay sighed. “I only just got word from the guards this morning. They werenae suspicious at first, but the men overstayed their welcome at the tavern.”
“Do ye think they’re his men?” Caden steered his horse around the village, his eyes peeled open for anything unusual.
“Aye, I have nay doubt about that. But the pub owner said they could have just been drunk guests. They made nay moves to break into the castle or disturb the cèilidh, but I still have me suspicions,” Finlay said.
Caden nodded his head. “It’s unusual to have travelers this time of year, so tell the guards to watch out for people who say they are family or relatives of the villagers. Tell them to report anyone who looks suspicious.”
They spent the next hour circling the village and castle grounds, discussing the strategy for guarding the land, who needed assistance in the village, and how to prepare for the rest of the winter.
Once they had arrived back at the yew tree, they paused and looked at the ancient gatehouse that guarded the castle. It was wood and wrought iron, and had stood guard with the tree.
But it could not shake away the question that had been burning in the back of Caden’s mind for hours. Now that he knew the clan was taken care of well, it returned.
“Tell me, Braither, do ye regret sendin’ me in yer place yesterday?”
Finlay remained quiet for a moment, studying Caden’s face.
A gust of wind blew past them, rustling the tall grass. The sun had poked through the clouds ever so slightly, but Caden barely noticed it.
“It’s a solution that helps us all.” Finlay said finally, shrugging as if it did not matter at all.
What does that mean?
They sat in silence, listening to the birds and the bugs go about their daily business.
“Ye didnae mention that me bride would be so bonny,” Caden said after a while.
“I hadnae noticed.” Finlay wrinkled his nose.
Argus flicked his tail as if to concur.
“Ye? Ye hadnae noticed? Ye, who has slept with every available woman in this village.” Caden raised an eyebrow, incredulous.
“How did ye ken about that!” Finlay gasped, pretending to faint.
Caden had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.
“I’m nae a moron, Braither. I pay attention to yer ways.” He looked out over the river to hide his amusement.
“Wouldnae kill ye to mention it every once in a while.” Finlay sighed. “Look, Ava is a friend. I wouldnae want to marry her and then hurt her with me ways, as ye put it.”
“And yet ye seem pretty close.” Caden looked at his brother, unable to believe that his brother did not care for Ava. If anything, it made it look more suspicious, that he did not want to hurt her. And the way she had been so hurt yesterday…
“We are pretty close, Braither. She is like Joanna to me. I’m the closest thing she has to a braither.
I’ll never forgive meself for failing her, but truthfully, I was just looking out for her.
Just daenae tell anyone I really believed ye were a better choice than me.
That would ruin me chances with the lassies from the nearby villages,” he joked.
Relief washed over Caden as he smiled at the jest. “I see.”
Then maybe Ava is free to—Nay, nay.
He could not go back on his word. He was Caden Hunt, Laird of the oldest and proudest clan in all of Scotland. He was the descendant of a king. He would not break his vow. It would be dangerous if he would.
They rode the rest of the way together in silence.
As they approached the castle, Caden heard laughter from the garden. The afternoon sun had cleared the haze away. He could see Ava hiding and Nathan’s little body bolting through the bushes, a giant smile on his face when he found her.
“I think our nephew likes her,” Finlay noted.
Ava hid again, and the little boy ran around the garden, trying to find her. She gave a melodious laugh, and he ran straight toward her.
Nathan grinned as he rounded a corner and followed her laughter. She shot out of her hiding spot, making him giggle and run away. She chased after him.
Caden could not take his eyes off her until she disappeared from view. He caught Finlay staring at him, waiting for a reply.
Shite.
“What?”
Finley raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in disbelief. “I said, I think he likes her.”
“Oh, aye, I hope so.” Caden shook his head and dismounted his horse.
He needed to see his wife.