The Highlander’s Challenge (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story) Read online

  “Your Uncle Brien is ambitious, I know,” he said gently, “but why would he refuse me permission to wed you? You think I am too poor a choice to be an aid for his ambitions?”

  Alina breathed out a shaky laugh. “I suppose not,” she said, and gave him a teasing smile.

  “That's better,” Duncan agreed, feeling his pulse thud with rising longing. He loved her wry grin. He loved every part of her, from the smooth rise of her breasts beneath the black velvet gown to the high arch of her neck and the dark red mouth. He loved her black eyes and pale skin, her quiet mysteriousness and her sweet giggle that was completely at odds with her wise seriousness.

  Alina laughed at his comment and Duncan lay back down on the settee, looking up at her. It was all he could do to avoid devouring her right then and there. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to erase the images his mind was conjuring. He cleared his throat. He could not let his mind take him down those avenues.

  As it was, all he had done was kiss her, once or twice. That was enough to make him know that soon, he would have to seek her hand in marriage.

  “I should go,” Alina said gently, shifting where she sat beside him. Duncan frowned.

  “Stay a while?” he asked.

  She nodded and he smiled.

  He and Alina had fallen for each other shortly after they met, nigh on half a year ago, at her sister's betrothal to his brother. They had faced immense hardship together and their love had blossomed even in that adversity. He had come here, accepting her uncle's invitation to spend a summer training his men, with the explicit intention of asking her to wed him. He had thought she wished to marry even as he did. However, ever since he had raised the subject, she had become distant. He could not understand the change.

  “Beloved?” Alina's gentle voice broke through the fog around him, and, surprised, he opened his eyes. He must have been lost in thought deeper than he realized, lying here in the solar beside her. The evening smelled of gardenias, summer, and the herbs she used to scent her clothes. It was a scent that warmed his blood. He sat up.

  “Yes?”

  “Bad things will happen. If you ask him, they will happen. I have seen it.”

  Duncan shivered and rolled his heavily-muscled shoulders, trying to settle the sudden discomfort he felt.

  “What kind of things?”

  His voice was hushed and serious. Alina was a seer. She knew things that would happen. Whether she was especially perceptive or the gift was from some Otherworld source he had never thought to ask. He just knew that when she spoke thus, or dreamed, he listened. “What did you see?”

  She sighed. Then she leaned back on the wooden settee, looking up at the vaulted ceiling of the solar. “I do not know. It was not clear,” she sighed.

  “For whom? For whom were they bad things?” Duncan asked.

  “You. Me. Amabel. All of us. Even Chrissie. I sensed, rather than saw, something...harmful. It lurked in the shadows and when you asked, it came closer. Started to engulf all of us. It was terrible,” Alina said, black eyes wide and blank as she looked into her memory.

  Duncan, sitting next to her, reached an arm around her shoulders. He meant it as a gesture of comfort but he tensed as his body throbbed with longing. He could feel her soft warmth seeping through his tunic and the velvet of her gown, and smell the rose-water that lent its delicate perfume to her white skin.

  He gritted his teeth to fight the rising longing. She moved closer, making a little sigh. His body ached and he tried to ignore the need to cover her with kisses then and there.

  “Duncan, you are sweet,” she sighed. “But you cannot shield me from this coming dark. No one can. All you can do is not ask my uncle, it was then that the darkness came.”

  “But I have to,” Duncan said. His gray eyes widened as he looked at her. “I want to wed you, Alina. I cannot live if I don't.”

  Alina chuckled. It was a dry sound, a sad sound. “I am touched. Truly. And if it were me alone who could agree to it, I would have wed you in a heartbeat. You know that.”

  Duncan sighed. He moved his arm so that his hand rested on her smooth shoulder, the rounded warmth of it in his broad hand.

  “I am honored.” He was. He sighed. “But I have to ask. Your uncle is the one who can say if we can marry. He will agree. I cannot see why not.”

  “I agree, there is no reason for him to say no,” Alina said. “But in the dream, the darkness came from him. I know that if you approach him, it will descend. And none of us can fight it.”

  Duncan breathed out. He loved Alina. He respected her. Nevertheless, he did not want to believe this. At least, he did not want to believe that what she saw was unchangeable.

  “I will try,” Duncan said. “Perhaps if I do not ask him directly, it won't happen?” he smiled at her encouragingly.

  Alina laughed again. “Duncan, I want to wed you. Deeply and absolutely. But I know there is no way to stop this from happening. All we can do is, if we take this path, pray there is light at the end of it.”

  Duncan shivered again. It was not cold at all. He was frightened. Duncan MacConnoway was a brave man – none would say otherwise. However, the closeness of the spirits, the making of curses, and the workings of fate...these were things he did not want to know of. They scared him and he was not ashamed to admit that.

  “I would do as you say,” Duncan said gently. “But I cannot put aside my dream to wed you. You are my whole heart, Alina, and I cannot cast it aside.”

  Alina chuckled. This time, it was a rich sound, full of warmth and love. It filled his heart with light.

  “Duncan, my dear. You are my heart, and have been since shortly after I first saw you. I would no more think I could dissuade you than I would try and stop a wildfire. You ask. I will pray. That is all we can do.”

  Duncan looked into her eyes. He could not quite believe she was giving him permission. The fact that he was so close to achieving what he had wanted for so long did not seem possible.

  “Alina,” he breathed. He looked up into that perfect oval face, into those long-lashed, black eyes. She smiled. He smiled and leaned forward.

  His lips touched the soft, plump cushions of lips and he thought he would catch fire with longing. He allowed his tongue to probe them gently and when she parted her lips, letting him enter, he could not help it. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her tight to his chest, feeling her body meet his even as his mouth probed hers.

  He could feel his body shake with longing and he knew that if he did not stop this soon, he would find himself pushing her back onto the settee and doing things he knew he could not, and would not, do before their wedding night. He forced himself to stop.

  His lips moved wetly away from hers.

  He sighed.

  “Alina.”

  She smiled at him. Her lips were moist and red, and he felt the little smile move through him like wildfire.

  “I trust you,” she said softly. “Go. There must be a way through this darkness.”

  Duncan bit his lip. “I am honored by your trust in me.”

  She smiled. “I do trust you. Now go. Before I kiss you and we end up doing things we regret.”

  He grinned, shaking his head. Alina was so perceptive it scared him. Though he knew she was as inexperienced as he himself, he could not quite believe it, so observant and wise was she. He was sure sometimes that there was no knowledge she could not access. Not even his thoughts.

  He sighed. “I will go,” he said. “Or I truly shall live to regret it.”

  He chuckled, meaning it as a joke. She looked up at him, black eyes level, and then down at her long, tapered fingers. Sighing, Duncan went out of the solar and headed off to find Brien. Thane of Lochlann and the ruler of this castle and all the lands around.

  He headed down the long staircase towards the great hall and then crossed to the west tower. From there he could find the turret room where Lord Brien oversaw the running of the estates. If he wasn't there, he would try the audience chamber
.

  Someone was coming up the stairs – in the darkness he could not see who it was. He moved sharply left and the figure still succeeded in bumping into him.

  “Oh!”

  Duncan turned and looked into the face of Alina's little cousin, Chrissie. Now fourteen and earnestly pretty, Chrissie looked up at him, a hand covering her pale lips in shock.

  “Apologies, Lady Chrissie,” he said and gave her a bow. Chrissie giggled.

  “Duncan! It's you. I thought it was a ghost.”

  Duncan smiled, though the words did make him uneasy. “You wouldn't be the first.” he said quietly. Alina's words of doom and dark had troubled him, perhaps more than he knew. The fear on her face had cut deeply.

  Chrissie frowned at him, but, naturally high-spirited, laughed again. “Only because you creep about in the dark! Is Alina upstairs?” she asked, changing the subject again.

  “She was in the solar,” Duncan said. “Is your uncle downstairs?”

  “Oh. No,” she said, thinking. “I've not seen him for ages. I think he's in the turret room. Is Alina alone?”

  “She was when I went,” Duncan said.

  Chrissie giggled and the lightness of it followed him as he headed quickly downstairs. He headed along the corridor to the west tower.

  Upstairs, Alina was still sitting on the settee. She felt exhausted. She looked across at the fireplace. The fire had burned down, leaving red coals.

  “Alina?”

  Alina jumped. She turned to see Chrissie in the doorway.

  “Oh. Chrissie,” she said gently. “You startled me.” She had been sitting quietly alone, lost in thought, watching the flames.

  “Sorry,” Chrissie said apologetically. She stood in the doorway, hands wringing the white linen of her long dress. “Are you busy?”

  “Not really,” Alina said dryly. She had been trying to discover anything she could about the darkness she had dreamed, sitting quietly and letting pieces – both knowledge and inspiration from Heaven alone knew where – fall into place. However, to Chrissie's eye, she would have been doing nothing and so she did not try to explain.

  “Oh,” Chrissie said. She plopped into the chair across from Alina, a carved upright one. “I wanted to find you to talk to you about Heath.”

  “Oh?” Alina frowned, a thin line on her clear, high brow. She had played the role of Chrissie's mother, almost since the girl's true mother, Alina's aunt, had died ten years ago. There were only six years between her age and Chrissie's, but the role had stuck. When Chrissie was happy, sad, or worried, she confided it in Alina. Chrissie's latest dilemmas were all concerning Heath.

  “I was talking to him yesterday,” Chrissie began, “and when he was in the practice yard and someone hit him, I giggled. He didn't want to speak to me.”

  Alina smiled. “He was embarrassed, Chrissie,” she said gently. “He cares about what you think. That shows it.”

  “Really?” Chrissie's brow shot up. “You think he doesn't hate me?”

  Alina had to laugh. “Of course not! If he hated you, your giggling when he was beaten in the field wouldn't matter to him. He wants you to think well of him.”

  “Oh!” Chrissie covered her mouth with her hand again. “So...well, that explains so much!” she smiled. “That's why he always fights so fiercely when I'm there, and why he tries so hard at lessons, that even Father Padraig says he is a good learner. He always wants to look clever.”

  Alina laughed. “He wants you to think that, anyhow.”

  Chrisse grinned. “Oh, Alina. What would I do without you? You're wise.”

  Alina smiled. She reached across and took the girl's pale hand into her own. “I wouldn't want to do without you either, Chrissie,” she said gently. “You are so full of hope. So full of light.”

  Chrissie beamed. “Thank you, Alina!” she squeezed her hand and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. She smelled of honey and lavender and Alina sighed, drawing her into an embrace. She felt almost as if Chrissie, earnest and golden-haired, were her own daughter. She was sure she would not feel any more fierce a love for her own child.

  “Thank you, dear,” she said into the curls. “I like talking to you.”

  “Will you go away, when Duncan weds you?” Chrissie asked curiously.

  Alina paused. She leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, then closed her eyes. She did not want to talk about Duncan right then. The last thing she wanted to contemplate was that marriage. This was sad, because it was also a matter dearest to her heart. She loved Duncan and had done so for over half a year now. Nevertheless, she did not know what would happen if that love became a wedding.

  “I don't know, dear,” she said gently. “I miss Amabel, so that is one good thing about my going, not so?”

  “Amabel!” Chrissie said with enthusiasm. Amabel was Alina's older sister. She had been married to Duncan's brother a year ago and had left Lochlann castle to live at his castle home. Alina missed her sorely.

  “I want to see Amabel again, too,” Chrissie continued, looking at her hands. She looked up at Alina.

  “When the wedding happens, Amabel can visit.”

  Alina softly smiled. “Yes. That is true.” She sighed. There were so many good things that could come from her wedding Duncan. She knew, now. She had forgotten them beneath the fear. Chrissie was right. Perhaps there was something in the fact that the joy should outweigh the sorrow. Perhaps that light – her love for Duncan, her love for Amabel, and also Chrissie – could outweigh the impending dark.

  She sighed. Rubbing her temples beneath the fillet of silver that bound her hair off her face, she felt some of the tension of the last days recede. Perhaps she did worry too much...at the moment, as things stood right now, all she could do was hope.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A TASK IS LAID OUT

  A TASK IS LAID OUT

  “No, Lord Duncan.”

  Duncan stared.

  Brien, thane of Lochlann, stood before him, his thin face implacable. He stood against the high window, his posture still upright despite his advancing age, white hair brushed to smoothness down his back. He was unbending.

  “But, my lord...” Duncan began.

  “I will brook no argument, young man.” The voice was firm. “I have explained to you my reasoning. That will be sufficient.”

  Duncan swallowed. He wanted to shout at this man, to rail against his unreasonable words. However, Brien, thane of Lochlann, was a respected lord, head of a powerful fighting force and also Duncan's brother Broderick's strongest ally. He was also the only route for Duncan to wed Alina. He could not afford to offend him, in any sense.

  “My lord, I have not said I disagree,” he said at last. “But I may say that I find your ruling to be...inequitable,” he supplied cautiously.

  “Inequitable?” the old man gave a harsh laugh. “Who said policy must be equitable, young man?”

  Duncan stared at him. His own father was fair, first and foremost. He taught that leadership required fairness, or people would cease to listen to their lord and learn to disrespect him. He appreciated anew the wisdom in his father's argument.

  “I have risked my life,” he said in a choked whisper. He had risked it to save Alina, not in the service of this man, and he would do it again, a thousand times, without thought. Nevertheless, Lord Brien's words were unfair – he could not doubt that.

  “As I am aware,” the old man said airily. “And so, I ask you to risk it again. What matter?”

  Duncan blinked. He could not believe what the man was saying! He must be entirely insane. “But...but these tasks you set are madness!”

  The old man laughed, sounding genuinely amused. “I have been accused of many things, young man. Impassivity, cruelty, even...what was it?...inequity,” he added wryly. “But never of having taken leave of my wits. I am in full possession of them. And these tasks are not insane.”

  “But...”

  “Find the sword that was taken. Return it. Find the pearl that was lost a
nd ask the question that has been left unsaid. Do it and you shall wed Alina.”

  Duncan stared at him. This was wild. This was like something from the tales of ancient times. He was not an ancient prince and this was not the age of magic. He could not do it.

  “I cannot do this.”

  The old man shrugged. “As you wish,” he said. He turned around and walked to his desk. “Leave, then. I am weary. I must finish my tasks of husbandry...castles do not maintain themselves, you are aware?”

  Duncan sighed. “Certainly, my lord.”

  “Good,” the old man said firmly. He reached for a quill and looked down at a ledger. Duncan was, to all purpose, made invisible.

  Duncan sighed again. He ran a hand through his tawny hair, feeling the bitterest defeat. He looked up at the old man, but he was working steadily, checking his steward's work. He would not interrupt him and risk his ire.

  He walked quietly out, his footsteps echoing in the quiet space of the office.

  He headed downstairs. He felt as if his heart had been encased in lead. It was dark, the night settling on the castle. He was tired, weary, and utterly lost.

  He walked despondently through the hallway, past the great hall where the men were settling on the benches, preparing for the dinner, and out into the courtyard where the men-at-arms had, not a few minutes ago, been practicing with sword, spear, and wrestling.

  He should have joined them. He should not be here. He should, he realized now, have listened to Alina.

  He should have learned that months ago. Alina knew things. He should have respected that. He sank down on a stone bench at the edge of the practice ground. He breathed in the scents of lavender and dark.

  “Why don't I run away?”

  He sighed. It was a good idea. It was the only solution left. If he was not given leave to wed, he could run. He could take Alina with him. They could flee and reach sanctuary in some other territory where Lord Brien, thane of Lochlann, held less influence. They could live there, as outlaws, content with each other.