Chapter 16 #2
“’Twas like thus the first time you forced yourself on a lad, I reckon” he said to the stableman, rolling his hips so that he could rub his limp cock against his skull.
Smothering the fool didn’t make him hard, but he wanted his last sensation to be of the suffocating horror of being used against his will.
“That’s the way,” he crooned as the big man thrashed under him.
When the bastart stopped moving, and his heavy body went limp, Kiamh climbed off the bed and watched the corpse for a long moment to be sure he wasn’t feigning death.
He then slipped out of the chamber, returned to the privy, and changed back into his robes.
The bundle of fleece and clothes he placed in a basket, which he carried back to the chamber he was sharing with a young gardener.
Bruce sat staring at the hearth, just as Kiamh had left him.
After casting the garments, cloak and fleece into the flames, he tossed a charm into the hearth that made everything burn swiftly to ash. He then released the gardener from the spell that kept him frozen, and Bruce blinked sleepily at him, unaware he’d left the chamber.
“Shall we sleep?” the younger man asked, yawning the last word.
Kiamh politely bedded down on the floor beside Bruce’s pallet, which was better than the days he’d spent sleeping on the ground while a captive.
He experienced no shame over strangling Dugal, as expected.
When he was younger he’d expected to suffer some remorse for his dark deeds, but since being outcast he’d left behind those ridiculous regrets.
This traitor was not the first man he’d ended, nor would he be the last.
Once Kiamh found the cluet, no one would ever again call him anything but Master.
I n the morning Garia came screeching into the laird’s chamber, begging Tair to come and see to someone named Dugal.
Lucy pulled on her clothes and followed both of them to one of the chambers reserved for the clan’s vassals, the door of which stood open.
The smell coming out of the room told her that Dugal was probably beyond help, but when Tair rolled the big man over and touched his throat she frowned.
That isn’t who I saw coming in here last night, Lucy thought.
Dorchad came to stand beside her. “Did that fool boak and choke to death on it?”
“Not with those bruises around his neck,” she said, frowning. “I saw someone come into this room last night when I went to get some washing water. It wasn’t one of your brothers or any of the vassals I know. He was dressed in a dark cloak and maybe some black trousers.”
“The sort our woodsmen wear,” the chieftain said under his breath, as if he were talking to himself. “What more?”
“He was short and a little plump—like some of the men I saw in the village,” she added when he frowned at her. “I don’t know for certain. It was late, I was tired and it was dark.”
“Mayhap you imagined such,” Dorchad said.
How could she convince him of what she’d seen? “Just after he went in there, he said something. All I heard was mow-grah.”
“Mo ghràdh,” he corrected her, and finally backed up. “You’re certain ’twasnae a wench?”
“He wasn’t wearing skirts. He had on dark trousers and men’s boots under that cloak.” She couldn’t recall the words he’d said after that because she’d gone by the room and had turned a corner. “What does mo ghràdh mean?”
His jaw tightened. “My love.”
At that moment Tair stomped out of the room and glared at Dorchad. “Why do you call my wench your love?”
“He didn’t.” As a show of solidarity Lucy tucked her arm through the chieftain’s. “We were just talking about something I saw last night. It’s okay.”
Tair glowered at her and then eyed his half-brother. “If I find a mark on her later, you die.”
“Aye, my lord. Happily.” He tugged free of her hold, bowed to her and then the laird before he went into the room.
“You are not endearing me to your brothers, you know.” She frowned at him. “By the way, what does ha gill ackam orsht mean?”
“Tha goal agam ort,” he said, as if correcting her. A sudden and decidedly sheepish look came over his face. “’Tis naught important.”
“Shall I go and ask Dorchad to translate it for me?” she asked sweetly.
“No.” His face reddened a little, and then he marched her away from the scene. Once they were out of earshot of Garia and the other servants, he told her, “’Tis how we say ‘I love you.’ ”
“Oh.” She’d never expected him to say it, but he had. “I really need to learn Scots Gaelic.” She glanced back toward Dugal’s chamber. “Someone strangled that man, didn’t they?” When Tair nodded she grimaced. “Why would someone want a stableman dead?”
“I cannae tell you,” the laird admitted, and then looked past her. “Druid, you slept close to here, aye?”
“Aye, my lord,” Kiamh said, and grinned at the young gardener beside him. “Bruce kindly permitted me share his quarters at the other end of the passage last night. ’Tis something amiss?”
Dorchad appeared beside Tair and murmured something to him before regarding the two young men. “Did you see a woodsman come into Dugal’s room last night?”
“No, Chieftain,” Bruce said. “Maister Kiamh and I played quoits until we tired, and then slept until now.”
“I did hear footsteps in the passage near midnight,” the druid admitted. “Twice, I think, just after we went to bed.” He glanced at Bruce. “You heard them as well, I reckon, for you said as much to me.”
“Aye, I recall the noise.” The gardener grimaced. “I grumbled that they should be abed as well.”
“Summon our woodsmen to the great hall,” Tair told Dorchad. “We shall learn who had reason to slay Dugal. What of his lovers, then?”
“Dugal had no lovers, my lord,” Bruce said. “I dinnae wish speak ill of the dead, but he didnae care for females. When he drank too much, he spoke of a lad from his village that he loved and lost. ’Twas a sorrowful parting, I reckon.”
T hat night Lucy walked up to the battlements and looked out over the moonlit waters of the loch.
After a long day of questioning the woodsmen who served the clan, they still hadn’t discovered who had killed Dugal.
Since the men worked in the forests surrounding the loch, and had families and homes in the village, they could account for their whereabouts.
They also offered many witnesses to verify that they had left the island for the night, who were then summoned and gave their accounts.
It seemed that whoever had killed the stableman had only been posing as a woodsman.
Kiamh offered to stay at Gealladh until they determined who had killed Dugal, but since Bruce had vouched for him Tair allowed him to leave.
Before he did he told Lucy that he would be happy to help her adjust to living in this time in any way that he could, and to send word to Dun Maor if she wanted him to visit.
The young druid seemed like a sweet boy, Lucy thought, but she still wondered why she grew sad every time she looked at him.
As for her new immortality, if the cluet suddenly appeared and offered her a wish, she’d have nothing to ask for.
That was what weighed in her chest like a rock, because she didn’t know how to live this long life she’d been miraculously given.
What am I supposed to do here? Just look for the bloody rag? What happens after we find it?
“When Brenna told me that Rune’s blood would assure that I’d never grow old or sick, I didnae believe her,” Tair said from behind her. “’Twasnae until she grew old and frail, and I remained unchanged, that I came to understand the burden of my sire’s gift.”
“No one wants to die. I’m just not certain that I can manage living forever in centuries during which a cow has more rights than I do.” She turned around to face him. “You don’t have to tell me that you and your brothers will protect me.”
“You dinnae need our protection, my lady. Indeed, I’d ask you safeguard me and mine.” He held out his arms. “Come here. ”
Stepping into his embrace seemed like the only thing she’d done right tonight. “I’m scared to death, love.”
“Aye, so I reckoned when you left me sleeping.” His big hand stroked gently over her hair. “I cannae tell you what shall come for us. The dark Fae queen holds the mortal realm hostage. If we cannae return that facking rag to her, she will keep her word.”
“I’m not afraid of dying.” Not exactly. “I just hate how unfair it is. You and the clan have worked so hard to become good men. She doesn’t have the right to make any demands of you.”
“In truth she does. As queen she rules over all the dark Fae, even those with half-mortal blood.” He lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. “Me and mine, we’re her subjects. ’Tis why we must find the cluet, for ’twill free the MacRune and every other halfling in our realm.”
Lucy had never considered that. “Do you think there are a lot of halflings here?”
“’Tis of no consequence.” Tair shrugged. “They may remain in hiding, or step forward into the light. Our task, ’tis give them a world in which they may live and choose freely.”
She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his chin. “You know, you’re a much nicer chap than I thought.”
He caught her mouth with his before she could drop down, and kissed her until she shook with desire.
It wasn’t wine and roses, Lucy thought, and this man would never be a romantic. Yet in the honest heat of his desire for her she sensed something more. Like the words he’d only been able to say to her in Scots Gaelic, Tair was quite capable of love. He just couldn’t bring himself to admit it.
“You’ve never told me why you decided to form this clan with your half-brothers,” she said, tucking her arms around his neck.
“It seems like you all want to live decently, and use your powers for good, but it was more than that. You didn’t want them to be alone in the world after their mortal families died. ”
“You’re far too canny, wench.” He lifted her off her feet, sitting her on the top of the wall so that she was on his eye level. “Now you must wed me, and I shall do all I can so that you need never live alone in this realm.”
“Being immortal doesn’t mean we can’t die,” Lucy reminded him. “The queen killed your dad. She might do the same to you, me, and the rest of the world.”
He nodded. “We shall live each day as best we can. When the time comes that we must die, as all living things do, I hope we shall journey to the next place together.”
She smiled. “That sounds smashing.”
THE END