Charming the Chieftain (7 page)

Oatcakes.

If she heaped a handful of dirt and twigs onto the burnt, dry oatcake, she doubted there would be little difference in the taste. A lifetime might pass before she willingly ate another or, dried venison strips and berries for that matter. As she contemplated what to do about the noon meal, a low-pitched whistle floated on the air. Aeden’s head snapped around and she listened in trepidation as the same eerie signal penetrated the forest sounds. She looked over at Aeden to gage his reaction and noticed the tense set of his shoulders relax a fraction. And then to her astonishment, he cupped his hands around his mouth and whistled back.

All of a sudden, three men appeared at the mouth of the cave. Not thinking clearly, she crawled over to Aeden and used her body as a shield. Aeden’s exasperated sigh fanned the hair at the back of her head.

Laughter threaded the stranger’s speech when he asked, “What do you intend with that knife?”

“Come closer and I shall slice you from belly to brow.” Despite her bravado, her voice quavered.

“A blood thirsty wench, eh, Aeden?”

“’Tis all right, Elisande, this man is known to me.”

Aeden’s voice was whisper soft, and a jolt of longing coursed through her body. Still wary, she turned to keep the intruder in her line of vision as she moved off to the side. Aeden’s inscrutable gaze captured her eyes. He was a hard one to read. She had no idea if he was angry with her, or grateful, or both. To her surprise, he reached out, clasped her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before he let go. No doubt he meant to comfort her, but it only served to awaken a suppressed desire for him. Her shoulders drooped. Feeling foolish, she moved closer to his side and threw the knife down.

“Please forgive me, I had no idea you were expected.” She pursed her lips, giving Aeden a reproachful glance.

Fergal dipped his chin, yet made no acknowledgment of her apology. It was just as well. Her nerves were frayed and she had little patience for idle chat. She excused herself and walked from the cave into the sunlight. A bath, at last she would have a bath. Her spirits lifted when she feasted her eyes upon the glistening water that beckoned her weary bones, and she longed to sink into the river’s cool depths and soak her aching limbs. Her mind set, she hastened over to Aeden, who was now on his feet. She shoved down her anger at the man’s obstinance and marched over to him and tapped his shoulder. Caught off guard, he spun around and forced her backwards, her arms whirling as she tried to keep her balance. He lurched forward and grabbed her arm before she dropped to the ground.

Disconcerted by his touch she cast about for something to say. “Chief, you should not be up and about.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “We are back to titles I see.”

Watchful, he lowered the arm on his injured side and winced.

“Did you pull your threads?” Concerned she reached out to him.

He shook his head and took a step back. “I’m fine. What is it you wanted?”

Rebuffed, she stopped herself from asking to see his wound. “I should like to bathe in the river.”

He regarded her, his expression inscrutable while at the same time he instructed one of his men. “Fergal, see to the perimeter.”

He bowed, which sent his myriad of braids a-bob. After his departure, an awkward silence ensued.

“All is clear.”

“Do not stray from the inlet,” he ordered.

About to take her leave, his fingers caught the edge of her sleeve to trail down the back of her hand. She stared down at it expecting to see a line seared into her skin.

“Take care.”

The heat that forever emanated from him seeped into her clothes. She lifted her gaze. Unexpectedly, a wave of raw emotion overwhelmed her and she stood supplanted, unable to move fearing she would drown under the weight of its intensity.

• • •

“One thing’s certain. The lass will need patience and a high tolerance for shyte when she joins with your brother.”

Aeden frowned. The very idea that Addis would be allowed to claim Elisande as his wife set his teeth on edge.

“’Tis no’ settled who she weds.”

He pretended not to notice Ronan’s raised brow.

“No? I understood the lass were meant as a consolation to soothe Addis’s almighty vanity.”

Noncommittal, Aeden shrugged, but his friend pressed his point.

“A man is no’ likely to forget such a humiliation. An
áilleach
like your one will pacify him for a time anyway.”

“Any woman would do, you ken as well as I.”

Images of Elisande sharing a bed with Addis caused his stomach to roll. Addis didn’t deserve such a treasure. If a sour-tempered woman could ever be considered as such — but then, he always did prefer fiery to sweet.

Ronan shook his head. “Onora has spoken of her niece’s winsome ways for far too many years. You are fooling yourself, brother, if you do no’ believe those stories have whetted the appetite of every able-bodied man in the clan.”

Aeden skewered his friend with a menacing glare.

“And your appetite, has it been roused as well?” His tone was deadly quiet.

Smiling from ear to ear, Ronan replied, “Aye, Chief. Greatly — any man would be pleased to entertain such a lively woman in his bed.”

Aeden scowled, unimpressed with Ronan’s glib tongue. He could not bear the idea of Elisande giving herself to any man except himself. Just the vision of her naked and in the arms of another man filled his belly with bile.

After some moment’s contemplation, he looked at Ronan. An unspoken agreement passed between them.

“We’re going to have a devil of a time with the details, my friend.”

Aeden grinned. “Well, the devil is always in the details, brother.”

When their laughter died down, Aeden thought he heard singing and glanced around the forest until he pinpointed the source of the song. He turned back to Ronan.

“Stand watch. I am going to her.”

Oblivious to her environs, Elisande reached up to examine her loose mound of abundant hair precariously perched atop her head. Immersed to her chin in the calmer waters of the firth, she groaned as the cool water sluiced over her aching bones.

Suddenly, she jumped up and slapped a hand to her backside. “Blasted rock!”

Up to her knees in water, she bent at the waist, glaring at the large jagged rock in her hand while she rubbed her abused bottom with vigor. A twig cracked behind her and she froze. Fearful, she forced herself to look to the side and scrutinize the trees near the embankment. To her horror, the dark outline of a motionless figure stopped under an ancient elm filled her view. Petrified, she lurched upright and hurled the stone with every ounce of energy. It landed a few feet shy of its target and she cursed. Cool air drifted across her bare breasts, a latent reminder of her state of undress. The idea that her breasts had been well-illuminated by the shaft of light poking through the canopy of leaves mortified her to her marrow. She plunged neck deep into the water and screamed.

Aeden barked rapid-fire orders to his men as they neared the area and as quickly as they appeared they were gone. Once her heart calmed to a normal beat outrage set in.

“Chief Maxwell, you must leave now — this instant!”

His silence unsettled her.

“This is beyond indecent, Chief Maxwell, please leave.”

With a purposeful stride, he reached the water’s edge, loomed over her, and extended his hand.

“Oh no, no you don’t. You just stay away from me.”

“Come now, do no’ be stubborn. Your skin must resemble a dried apple by now.” He jabbed his hand in her direction once more.

“You may as well withdraw your hand for I will never take it.”

“Do no’ be foolish, woman,” he said exasperated. “Grab it afore you drown under the weight of your sodden hair.”

She opened her mouth to argue, and swallowed half the river water instead. She shoved the soggy mass out of her eyes sputtering.

“I-have no in-ten-tion of … drowning.”

He stared at her, incredulous. “What in the hell do you call that then?”

Wooden, she turned her head and fixated on a sagged branch beyond his left shoulder.

“Come now, lass, ’tis nothing I have no’ seen afore.”

Despite the cold seeping into her bones, her face flamed at the ungallant comment and she speared him with an outraged glare.

“If that was meant to reassure me then I suggest you try once more.”

How dare he speak so indelicate?

With that thought, her indignation intensified. “I am a gentlewoman, you … you debaucher.”

Aeden rolled his eyes and withdrew his hand. “Lass, ’tis unlikely I shall ever forget you are a woman to be respected.”

“Thank you.” Her response pushed between stiff lips. Good Lord she was miserable. If he didn’t leave soon she wouldn’t be able to move her legs.

“However,” he continued, “Now is no’ the time for your female modesty to overtake good sense. Your lips are blue.”

His hand shot out again.

She stared at the offending appendage.

“Now, if you do no’ wish to find yourself in a worse position, take my hand.”

She snorted at the empty threat.

“Naught could be more humiliating than the position you have thrust upon me, rest assured.”

He pounced, cutting through the water like a hot blade through goose fat. His jaw set, head down, determination etched into every feature as his body pushed away the water.

Before she had time to react, he leaned in, swept her up in his arms and pitched her effortlessly over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Speechless, she wanted to shriek, but the words were locked inside her throat. The oaf had been right about one thing. There were worse positions to be in.

“Put me down this instant.”

She smacked her palm against his back though it made as much impression as a lone rock tossed into a gravel pit. He hiked her farther onto his shoulder and she tried to slither through his arm deciding she’d risk the fall — at least she’d be on the ground. To her mortification, she became conscious of his ear flush against her cheek bottom. Her degradation complete, she gave up the struggle. Once he dumped her atop a mound of spongy moss, he gathered her scattered garments, and tossed them in her general direction.

“Clothe yourself, woman,” he ordered gruffly, about to turn away from her.

In disbelief over his treatment of her, she gripped the linen blouse to her breasts and bit out, “You dare to subject me to such despicable act after I nursed you back from the veil of death?”

A flash of something unfathomable in Aeden’s sky-blue eyes stayed her tongue. She stared up at him from beneath a wall of sodden hair sprawled in a puddle of water. After a few tense moments, he leveled a look at her. “Woman, I suggest you make haste.”

Frustrated, she stuck her tongue out at him.

A grin creased his cheeks as he bent over, retrieved her plaid, draped it around her shoulders and retreated. She pulled on her clothes and wrung out her hair having no idea what to think. Disarmed and discomfited, she scooped up her belt and cinched it tight around her waist wishing it were his neck. Befuddled, she exhaled a defeated breath. The peculiar jumble of reactions he drew from her upset her ordered mind.

“And this is the thanks I am to expect for saving his wretched hide,” she grumbled to the sky.

Dressed, she had no choice except to join the insensitive lout.

• • •

Aeden scrubbed a hand over his ear in a bid to rid himself of her touch. The impression of her soft, naked bottom against his skin roused a depth of desire he had no idea existed. His behavior toward her was more about self-preservation than her eventual embarrassment. She came up from behind, her peeved mutterings punctuated by noisy footfalls as she stomped over to him. It seemed her ire might take some time to wane. Better her anger than tears, he reasoned to himself. Anger, he understood.

“Come, you’ve wasted enough time with your stubbornness.”

He lips thinned and she planted her hands on her hips. “Ha, ’tis rich coming from a man who epitomizes the very word.”

Although his eyes narrowed, he allowed the insult to pass.

He noticed her shiver. Gratified that she finally understood her precarious position, he watched while she plucked a thick stick from a yew tree and jabbed it into the ground.

“Dare I ask what significance this holds?”

She ignored his sarcastic drawl and answered, “I believe there may be evil afoot.”

He crossed his arms and shook his head. “Just how many encounters with evil do you claim in a day?”

“Hardly ever, until I took up with you.”

His brows arched at her odd choice of words yet he let the remark pass since she started to chant. He sighed. At least she refrained from the spinning.

Finished, she grabbed the stick and snapped it in half over her raised knee.

“Goodness, I had no idea the Lowlands were so riddled with restless spirits.” Deep in thought, she chewed her bottom lip.

“Restless? I thought they were evil. So, which is it, lass?”

He really shouldn’t bait her, but it seemed he retained little self-control where she was concerned. Besides, her responses always intrigued him.

“Why, evil of course, what other uses have I for a yew stick?”

Engrossed by her own question, she ticked off an invisible list on her fingers.

“The only other use is to lay it across the threshold of a house plagued by bad luck, or, one might bury it in the back garden to keep stoats at bay.”

“True, though there is another possibility you have overlooked.”

She fixed him with a skeptical look. “Truly? Pray, enlighten me.”

“To light a fire or play fetch with a hound? Younger brothers might poke their little sisters or get up a game of swords.”

Her mouth formed an O. Tentative she studied the gnarled, warped wood as if any of his suggestions never before occurred to her.

“’Tis true. There are many uses for a yew stick.”

He gave her a conspiratorial wink. She blushed red to the roots of her hair and he tried to quash the urge to lay her down and plant himself between her supple thighs. Shifting positions, a twinge of pain put an end to his lust-filled daydreams and he recoiled.