The Betrayal

CHAPTER Fourteen

As the night wore on and the ale flowed, the guests became more raucous. It was impossible to take more than a bite of salmon or taste of mutton before pausing for another speech and an emptying of goblets, only to have them filled once more by passing servants.

Though Hazlet never returned, her friend and cousin, Culver, moved through the crowd, head bent in earnest conversation with many of the men from the village.

“M’laird.” A bleary-eyed warrior shuffled to his feet. “It’s come to my attention that ye left yer people without protection for many days while ye were off fetching the lady seated at yer table.”

Grant nodded. “Aye. My journey took many days. But the lady kindly offered to accompany me to my home to lend her services.”

“And what would those services be?”

At his coarse suggestion, the crowd fell silent.

Anger flared in Grant’s eyes, though he managed to bank it. “The lady has the gift of healing and sight.”

“A witch,” someone muttered aloud.

“How do we know ye aren’t under her spell?” another shouted.

“Aye.” A barrel-chested warrior got to his feet and tossed aside his goblet. “How do we even know yer the same man who left Duncrune Castle all those days ago? If ye’re in the company of a witch, how do we trust that ye’ll still protect us? I say we should choose another laird from among those present. One whose mind isn’t clouded by witchcraft.”

The bleary-eyed warrior took up the challenge. “If yer father were alive, Grant MacCallum, we’d have no such decision to make. Now there was a man who knew how to fight his enemies.”

“Aye.” A shout went up that nearly shook the rafters.

“We deserve a laird who can make us all proud as well.” The warrior’s voice trembled with emotion.

The men and their ladies drank, then pounded their cups on the wooden tables to attract the attention of the harried servants.

“We demand an answer, m’laird.” The warrior’s voice was roughened by ale and anger. “Did ye tarry along the way with the witch? Is that why ye left yer people so long without protection?”

“You desire an answer?” When Grant’s hand went to the sword at his hip Kylia closed a hand over his.

Her voice was a low, quiet plea. “This isn’t the way, my love.”

“It’s the only answer I’ll give them. If they choose to turn against you, they turn against me, as…”

His words faded as a group of strangers strode into the great hall. At the sight of them, the crowd fell silent.

“I come seeking Laird Grant MacCallum.” The booming voice of the leader carried to the rafters of the hall.

Grant stepped closer. “I am the man you seek.”

The leader extended his hand. “I am Burke, laird of the clan Kerr. I was off in battle with an army of barbarians, and have only now learned that you and the lovely lady Kylia saved the life of my son, Ewald, and his wife and family. Had it not been for your kindness, I now know that they would have perished at the hands of the thieves who raided their flock and burned their cottage. My people told me of your goodness, and that of your lady. How the two of you stayed, without sleep or shelter, protecting them and their flock until my son was strong enough to be returned to his village. Even then you didn’t abandon him, but accompanied him home before taking up your journey once more.”

He turned and directed his men to step forward, bearing one cask of ale, and another of gold.

Grant couldn’t hide his astonishment. “You are too generous, Burke of the clan Kerr.”

“No more than you, my laird. For my son and his family are more precious to me than gold.” He looked beyond Grant to where Kylia watched in silence. “Is this your lady?”

“The lady Kylia of the clan Drummond.”

“Drummond?” Burke’s smile widened. “Your clan is ancient and noble, my lady. I have heard of your healing powers, and I am grateful.” He lifted her hand to his lips. Then he turned to Grant. “In gratitude for your kindness, I pledge my loyalty, and that of my warriors. Should you find your land under siege, you need only send word and we will come with all haste.”

He turned and, flanked by his warriors, began to withdraw.

“Wait.” Grant extended his hands. “Stay and refresh yourselves.”

The older man shook his head. “These are dangerous times in our Highlands. There are invaders everywhere. I dare not leave my clan without my protection.”

With that he strode from the hall.

In the stunned silence that followed, Dougal stood and faced the crowd. “Let this be an answer to any questions that linger. There can be no doubt that Grant MacCallum is the finest, noblest laird in the Highlands, for he risked his own life for that of a stranger in need. But besides being a noble laird, there’s also no finer brother in the Highlands than mine.” He raised his goblet. “To my brother. My laird.” He drained his ale before adding, “I pledge my heart and my sword.”

“As do I, lad.” Giles stood and raised his sword to the ceiling.

“As do I.” Finlay, looking grave, added his voice.

“Highlanders proud and free.” The men, caught up in the spirit of the moment, leaped up shouting the words over and over. Soon their women were standing as well, adding their voices to the chorus.

Grant looked over at Kylia and saw the glimmer of tears on her lashes. He caught her hand and drew her up beside him before brushing a kiss to her palm. “Why do you weep, my lady?”

“I worried over you, my lord. And yet what I hear now tells me that your people have great affection for their laird.”

He continued holding her hand in his as he acknowledged the cheers of his people. Then, as they finally took their seats, he leaned close to whisper, “I can’t allow myself to forget that there is one among them who would betray me. And, despite the will of the people, there is the Council to consider.”

“The morrow is soon enough to think about that, my lord.” She smiled up at him, her tears forgotten. “Tonight you should enjoy the fruits of your labors. For you have returned to the bosom of your people, and they will sustain you through whatever trials are to come.”

Grant threw back his head and laughed. A rich, warm sound that wrapped itself around her heart. “How have I lived so long without your sweet goodness, my lady? You almost make me believe that you can soften even the most hardened of hearts.”

She touched a hand to his. “Believe it, my lord.”

As they returned their attention to the feast, the others at the table found themselves watching these two handsome young people, aware that their relationship was much more than that of two friends. For the love that gleamed in their eyes was impossible to hide.

The challenge boldly tossed by one warrior was now on the minds of all. Had their laird lost his heart to a witch?

Grant stood by the doors of the great hall, bidding his guests good-night. Servants scurried about fetching cloaks and shawls, while Gresham and the stable lads woke grooms who’d fallen asleep after finishing their pints behind the stables.

Those warriors who could still sit a horse were helped into their saddles, while the rest climbed into the backs of wagons and carts for the ride back to the village with their ladies.

Throughout all the commotion, Grant was aware of Kylia standing in front of the fireplace, talking softly to Dougal, Finlay and Lord Giles. The sight of her, so calm and serene amid the chaos, did strange things to his heart.

“I bid you good-night, cousin.” Culver accepted a cloak from a servant and started away.

Grant laid a hand on his sleeve. “How is my aunt?”

“She is calmer of mind now. A servant brought us a meal, and afterward she visited Ranald’s tomb to pray. I believe she regrets her display of emotion, cousin.”

Grant nodded. “Will I see you on the morrow?”

“Aye, for Hazlet has asked me to break the fast with her.”

“You are welcome at my table, Culver.”

“I thank you, cousin.” The man turned away and strode out the door to the courtyard.

Minutes later Grant joined the others by the fire. “Will you stay the night, Giles?”

The older man shook his head. “I have business in the village. But I’ll return on the morrow, for we have much to discuss with the Council before I leave for my home.” He offered his hand to Grant, and then to Dougal and Finlay, before turning to Kylia. “My lady, I am honored to meet you.”

“And I you, Lord Giles.”

He lifted her hand to his lips before taking his leave.

Kylia climbed the stairs between Grant and Dougal, who accompanied her to the door of her chambers, where she was greeted by Ardis.

“Good night, my lady.” Grant bowed formally over her hand before lifting it to his lips.

His brother did the same. “Good night, Kylia. I can’t wait to hear more about your kingdom on the morrow.”

When they were gone, Kylia walked to her sleeping chambers and slipped the shawl from her shoulders.

“You must be weary, Ardis.”

“Nay, my lady. Whenever there is a feast here at Duncrune Castle, I get the chance to visit with my kin from the village.”

“Are there many?” Kylia stepped out of her gown and petticoats and accepted the nightdress of softest lawn.

“Aye. My mother was one of seven, my lady. And my father the eldest of five. After the guests are fed, we gather in the refectory to eat and talk endlessly until we catch up with all the news of our families.”

Kylia found herself smiling at the image. “That sounds like such a grand time. Whenever my sisters and I get together, we never seem to run out of things to talk about.”

“Aye. It is the same with us. Will I help you into your pallet before I leave?”

“Nay, Ardis. I’ll see myself off to my bed in a few moments.”

“Then I’ll say good-night, my lady” Ardis picked up one of the candles and made her way out.

When the door to the chambers closed behind the servant, Kylia walked barefoot to the balcony to watch the clouds drifting across the star-studded sky.

It soothed her to know that those same stars were winking over the Mystical Kingdom.

“Are you watching, Mum? Are you missing me as I’m missing you?”

The light of one star seemed to grow brighter than all the rest, and Kylia watched as it began to dance in the night sky. It lasted for only a few moments, before the star returned to its place in the heavens, and its light gradually dimmed. But when it was over, Kylia found herself smiling.

“Thank you, Mum. I don’t feel quite as lonely now.”

She turned and was startled by a tall, shadowy figure behind her. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the little cry that sprang to her throat, then slowly let out a sigh of relief. “Grant. You startled me.”

“Forgive me, my lady. I wanted to be certain your servant was gone before showing myself.”

“You shouldn’t be here. Surely someone will see you, and by morning we will be the talk of the castle.”

“Trust me, my lady, we are already the talk of, not only the castle, but the entire village of Duncrune. Do you mind?”

She shook her head and the dark silk of her curls drifted like a veil around her shoulders. “Not for my sake. But for your sake, you should leave, Grant. After all, you are laird of the castle.”

“And as laird, I choose to be here with you.” He reached out a hand to her hair and watched as the strands sifted through his fingers. “All night I wanted this. Only this.” He took her hand and placed it over his heart. “Feel what you do to my poor heart.”

“It’s thundering.”

“Aye.” He looked into her eyes before drawing her close and brushing her mouth with his. “The need for you is such, my lady, that I couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping alone.”

He kissed her long and slow and deep, until she sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving herself up to the pleasure.

It was what she wanted, as well. Just this. To be held in this man’s arms. To feel treasured above all else. To be loved until they were both sated.

“My people were charmed by you, Kylia.” He ran soft kisses across her temple to her cheek. “My brother Dougal could hardly contain his excitement at meeting you.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “It was clear that Finlay and Giles were enchanted by you.”

She moved until her mouth found his, hungry for more of his kisses. “And their laird?”

“Has lost his heart to you completely, my lady.”

They came together in a kiss so hot, so hungry, the very air around them seemed charged with energy.

“So.” The sound of Hazlet’s voice had their heads coming up sharply. “This is how the laird of Duncrune Castle behaves when in the company of a witch.”

Kylia started to step away when Grant’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. Holding her close, he looked over. “You are intruding, Aunt.”

“I can see that, for I have eyes. But it seems my nephew has been blinded by witchcraft.”

“I prefer to call it love.” His tone was soft, but there was no denying the barely controlled anger that lay beneath.

“Do not debase the word with such as I have just witnessed, nephew. Love is only true when blessed by the sacraments, and witnessed by a man of the church. What you and this witch share is coarse and base, and mocks everything that is good and decent.”

Grant heard Kylia’s little intake of breath and absorbed her pain to his own heart. With an oath he set her behind him before advancing toward his aunt. “You will leave these chambers, never to return. Do you understand me?”

“You need not bar me, for I have no desire to see this woman, or speak to her again. She is a vulgar woman who is leading you down a path of destruction, nephew. Fool that you are, you are so blinded by her beauty, you fail to see the evil that lurks in her heart.”

As she turned away, Kylia hurried across the room to bar her exit from the room. “Wait, Lady Hazlet, for there is something I must tell you.”

The older woman shoved her aside and flung open the door. On the threshold she turned. Though it was impossible to see her eyes through the ever-present veil, the venom in her voice was plain enough. “You are dead to me. As is my nephew. I will hear no evil words from your lips. Nor will I acknowledge you in any way.”

She turned to Grant. “Beware, nephew. I wield great power with the Council. Greater than any witch.” She turned away and called over her shoulder, “You will rue the day you brought this creature to Duncrune Castle.”

As her footsteps echoed in the dark hallway, Grant closed the door and drew Kylia into his arms. Against her temple he whispered, “I misjudged the depth of my aunt’s grief. Giles was right when he said it had taken over her mind.” He tipped up Kylia’s chin and stared into her troubled eyes. “Don’t let her words turn you against me, my love.”

“How could I ever?”

“Promise?”

“Aye. But I ask a promise of you in return.”

“Anything.”

She sighed. “Don’t shut your aunt out of your life.”

He drew back. “You heard the words she hurled at me. At us. She insulted the woman I love. How can I continue to allow her to do so?”

Kylia touched a finger to his lips. “Listen to me, my love. For all Hazlet’s anger, I feel she is deeply troubled by something from her past. Perhaps she fears that Ranald didn’t love her enough. If that’s so, I can assure her he did.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Come.” She caught his hand and led him toward her pallet. “I’ll tell you about my dream.”

The smile was back in his eyes; the warmth in his voice. “Aye. I’ll gladly listen.” He drew his arms around her waist and pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat. “And when you’ve finished, I’ll show you all the wonderful things I’ve been dreaming about.”