Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
L ucy heard Tair swear under his breath before she looked over at the tall red-haired man who had approached them.
Now that she had time to actually take in his immaculate appearance, it startled her, for he resembled a white knight from a fairy tale.
His light cream-colored wool cloak, which matched his tailored tunic and trousers, seemed as if it had been spun from sunlit snow.
He carried no weapons, but wore a large gold filigree pin at the front of his throat that had been inlaid with strange amber and brown gemstones, and a crystal sparkling in the lobe of his ear.
Whoever he is, he’s minted, Lucy thought, wary now.
Two guards flanked him, both dressed in pale garments that looked expensive and a little fussy with intricate embroidery in gold, which matched the colors of the tartans they wore.
Compared to the MacRune clansmen, they looked as if they had come from another planet.
The guards also had odd bulges on their backs, and intricately-carved sticks strapped to the inside of their gauntlets.
What were they carrying under those tartans, armor of some kind?
“You’ve my attention, Fifer MacAlen.” Tair sounded like he wanted to spit on the man. “Say what you wish.”
“’Tisnae seemly, discussing such matters at the market,” the other man chided, as if he were amused. “Join me at Dun Maor, and we may speak at length in comfort. Indeed, I welcome you and your maid to spend the night.”
Lucy tried to appear suitably maidish by keeping quiet, but she couldn’t help looking over the red haired laird.
He was incredibly handsome, and seemed like someone who was dressed up to play a medieval man but like her belonged to a very different time.
Something about him also made her uneasy, as if his good looks and fancy dress hid something he didn’t want others to see.
Why does he want to wait and talk in private? What could be that secret?
“Aye, you in the comfort of your keepe, and me surrounded by MacAlen pledged to do your bidding,” Tair told Fifer. “Do you reckon me an eejit? Begone.” He flung his hand rudely at the other laird.
Both of the MacAlen’s guards snarled and reached for the carved sticks strapped to the inside of their gauntlets, but Fifer reached out and put his hands on their arms as if to gently restrain them.
“’Tis the MacRune’s right to refuse me. Dinnae overstep, lads.” His pale gray eyes shifted to Lucy for a moment. “The MacAlen dinnae leave helpless females at the mercy of brutes. If you wish leave your service, lass, I’d offer you sanctuary at my stronghold.” He held out his white-gloved hand.
“Dinnae touch the wench,” Tair said, pulling Lucy against his side. “She’s my property.”
Fifer glared back at him. “You cannae regard vassals the same as livestock, MacRune.”
“You forget to whom you speak, you prattling gannet.” He released Lucy and jerked off his tartan, but didn’t reach for any of his weapons. “My fists may remind you, or shall you scurry off like a coward again?”
Whatever Tair meant seemed to make the MacAlen laird snap, he lunged at him and both men went down. They pummeled each other with a flurry of fists, knees and boots, rising from the ground to grapple like wrestlers while all around them more villagers came to watch.
Did nothing in this time get settled without a brawl? Lucy wondered.
The wind was also whipping through the village now, sending some of the watchers running for cover. Both lairds got to their feet, unsteady now. When Lucy saw the blood staining the MacAlen’s tunic, and his guards reaching for their odd sticks again she knew it was time for another intervention.
“Please stop fighting.” Stepping between the men was not especially wise, but as she faced the MacAlen, she hoped Tair would be able to control his temper. “I thank you for your offer, my lord, but I do belong with the laird. I’m in love with him, so there’s no reason for me to leave his side.”
“Indeed.” Fifer took out a handkerchief and blotted some blood from his nose. “You may soon find your affections prove no’ enough to keep you safe, lass. When that time comes, seek sanctuary at Dun Maor.”
Lucy almost curtseyed, but with the way the MacAlen was behaving, thought better of it. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you, my lord.”
After giving her a long look Fifer stalked off with his two guards.
She turned to ask Tair about the other laird’s odd dress and the men’s concealed humps, but the MacRune took hold of her arm.
Without another word he marched her back to where the guard waited with the two horses.
He ordered the man to ride back to the dock and wait for him before he clamped Lucy against him and mounted his horse with her before taking hold of the reins and riding off in the opposite direction.
“Did you forget that the lake is that way?” she asked, gesturing after the leaving guard.
“Hold your tongue.” He pulled her back against him, and then said something in Gaelic to the horse that made it take off into the woods.
Lucy tried to appreciate the novelty of being on a horse galloping so fast the world seemed to blur, but she had to focus on clenching her teeth so she wouldn’t shriek in terror.
She was definitely not going to become a rider no matter how long she remained in the fourteenth century, because her bones would simply come apart.
That and the wooden saddle was now banging into her bottom so hard she knew she’d have bruises.
The forest surrounding the village grew thicker, but Tair deftly slowed and guided the horse along what had to be a cart path.
Just as Lucy was about to ask again why they weren’t going to the dock, the trees parted and encircled a beautiful flower-speckled meadow with a miniature waterfall and pool in its center.
“Oh, how pretty.” She smiled as Tair dismounted and lifted her down, and looked up into his dark eyes. “How did you know about this place?”
“Why did you claim you love me to the MacAlen?” he demanded.
“To stop you two from fighting, and to keep the weather from destroying the village.” When he swore and turned his back on her she sighed.
“I was just guessing about that last bit, but it’s true.
When you get angry, the weather goes crazy.
How is that even… It must be because of your father. He wasn’t human.”
“We’re halflings,” he said without looking at her.
“Sired by the dark Fae assassin Rune on mortal females he bedded while he hunted for the queen’s consort and the cluet.
His blood made us immortal, but our màthairs gave us weaknesses.
You already ken that Lochran’s blinded by sunlight.
My temper summons storms and whirlwinds.
We must conceal much of our nature from mortals. ”
“That’s why you let them think you’re heartless raiders when you’re not,” Lucy guessed, enjoying the incredulous look he gave her.
“Yes, I know about that, too. It’s why your castle is a mess and you’ve ordered your servants to behave like filthy, lazy fools—to hoodwink outsiders like me.
It’s all part of your efforts to cover up what you’ve really been doing all this time.
You’re not bad men. You’re good men pretending to be bad men.
” Nodding to herself, she walked over to the waterfall pool, which was steaming a little. “Is this too hot to swim in?”
Tair came and grabbed her, yanking her around to face him. “Who told you of our secrets?”
“No one.” She was tired of arguing with him, sick of this standoff and completely over his manhandling her. Why that made her put her arms around his neck, Lucy had no idea. “Here, I’ll tell you one of mine. I didn’t exactly lie to the MacAlen.”
“I did.” The laird splayed his hands against her back, and touched his brow to hers.
“I cannae own you, wench. Nor may I love you. ’Tis too much darkness inside me.
I gathered all my brothers so we might fight together our sire’s bloodline.
Protecting the weak and helpless, ’tis to honor our lady màthairs , which he never did. ”
Half of him was the same as the dark Fae queen, Lucy thought. What had he gone through to hold onto his humanity so he could be a better man than Rune? How had he convinced an entire clan to do the same?
“In my time we call that being caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. It’s where I am now, too.” The urge to burst into tears came over her, but she resisted it. “I don’t know what to do about this. About us. Help me.”
“I shall.” Tair’s hands went to the laces of her bodice, which he tugged loose.
Lucy knew surrendering to him might be the worst mistake she’d made since agreeing to date Justin.
She simply didn’t want to fight herself any longer.
All the emotion she kept hidden away cascaded through her, scalding her heart before flooding into her breasts and belly.
Between her thighs she nearly gushed with her own arousal, which he discovered as he unfastened her skirts and drawers.
“Your quim drives me mad,” Tair murmured as he put his hand there, not stroking her but just holding her so that her wet heat spread over his palm. “Never shall I cease wishing to touch and kiss and come inside you.”
When she stood naked Tair bent down to remove her boots, and did the same with his before he stood and tugged off his clothes.
Scooping her up in his strong arms, he waded out into the pool, the heat of which startled Lucy.
He slowly moved deeper until the very warm waters covered her body and lapped at his chin.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured against her ear, his hands turning and pressing her throbbing breasts against his broad chest. “Aye, just so. Let the wellspring wash away your worries. ’Tis only you and me here. No one shall see us.”