The Betrayal

CHAPTER Eight

In the heat of the afternoon Flora lay the sleeping infant beside Ewald, who was also asleep. She glanced at Grant, naked to the waist, busily repairing a wooden cart that had been damaged in the fire. “The laird of the MacCallum clan is a good man,” she said to Kylia. “There aren’t many men who would give such care to strangers.”

“Aye. A good man.” Kylia couldn’t seem to look away from the play of muscles that bunched and tensed across his back and shoulders with every movement.

She’d dreamed of him last night. Holding her. Kissing her. The images had been so real, she’d awakened with a start only to see the object of her thoughts keeping a lonely vigil across the meadow, near the flock of sheep.

What was she to do about these feelings? There were times when she thought she just had to touch him, to assure herself that he was real. After a lifetime of seeing his face in her mind, she feared he might disappear before she had a chance to tell him just what was in her heart.

What was in her heart?

She wasn’t certain if what she was feeling was true love, but she cared deeply about him. And with every day spent in his company, those feelings grew.

“Is the laird taking you to his home to be his wife?”

Flora’s words broke through Kylia’s reverie. She looked over in surprise. “Nay. I accompany him because he needs my help.”

“How can you help such a great laird?”

Kylia’s cheeks felt warm. What could she possibly say to this woman that would make sense? “I have certain gifts which the laird has need of.”

“Gifts, my lady?”

Kylia’s flush deepened. “I can see things.”

“What things do you see?”

“The past. Occasionally the future. It comes to me in visions.” She waited, afraid to breathe, for fear of this young woman’s reaction. Instead of the rejection she anticipated, the young woman accepted her explanation without question.

Flora’s mouth was split by a wide smile. “Oh, my lady, my grandmother was also thus blessed. She told me, when she first met Ewald, that he would ask for my hand. Though I didn’t believe her at first, I was later persuaded just how wise a woman she was. Our family always knew that she had special gifts which the rest of us didn’t possess.” She looked down, avoiding Kylia’s eyes. “Since you’re blessed, could you tell me…” Embarrassed, she swallowed back her words.

Kylia reached a hand to hers. “You needn’t ask. I can read the question in your heart. This will be the daughter you desire.”

The young woman gave a soft laugh. “Not even Ewald knows about it yet. I wasn’t even certain myself.”

“Believe it,” Kylia said gently, touching a hand to the young woman’s abdomen. “She will be a beautiful child, and will bring you much happiness in your old age.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Flora clasped her hands together.

As Kylia got to her feet and started toward Grant, she caught a glimpse of the young woman wiping a tear of joy from her eye and was forced to whisper a word of thanks to the Fates that had given her this strange gift of sight. Though such a thing set her apart from many, it was as much a part of her as the color of her eyes, or the texture of her hair. And not something she would ever care to deny. Though her family had been forced into exile because of their extraordinary gifts, Kylia wouldn’t change a thing even if she could.

While Grant readied the cart for a journey to the distant village, Kylia took comfort in the water of the bubbling stream. It had always been her refuge and her greatest pleasure. Even here, so far from home, she felt connected as she stepped into the clear, cold water. As she splashed deeper she spied the fat salmon lurking in the shelter of submerged rocks. It took her less than a minute to snatch the fish from its lair and toss it onto shore. While she made several leisurely turns across the stream she caught sight of more salmon. By the time she walked from the water and hurriedly dressed, she was able to fill her skirts with enough salmon to feed them all.

At the campsite Ewald lay talking softly with his wife. It was clear that he was in a great deal of pain, but he managed a smile as Kylia approached.

“My lady. Flora tells me that I owe you my life.”

“Nay, sir. If it hadn’t been for Lord MacCallum’s quick thinking, neither of you would have survived the fire. All I did was try to ease a bit of your suffering.” She knelt down and showed them her catch. “With such as this we’ll dine like royalty tonight.”

“Let me help.” Flora knelt beside her and the two young women began scaling the fish before setting them to cook over the hot coals.

From the ruins of the cottage Flora retrieved the remains of flour and sugar stored in a small dirt cellar. Soon the air was redolent with the fragrance of biscuits baking.

By the time Grant laid down his tools and joined them, their mouths were watering.

Though the fare was simple, they sat around the fire, savoring the food, and the chance to finally relax in one another’s company. Soon the children were asleep, tucked into the folds of Kylia’s cloak. Grant and Ewald shared sips from the jug of spirits, while Kylia and Flora drank strong tea and chatted softly as darkness gathered over the land.

Later, as Kylia drifted off to sleep beside the fire, she saw Grant take up his vigil near the flock. Though she longed to join him, she was forced to give in to her weariness. She slept in the knowledge that he would keep watch through the night, and see to their safety. There was such comfort in the fact that this strong man was watching out for all of them.

At first light Grant hitched his horse to the cart before helping Ewald and the children into the back, which was lined with Kylia’s cloak. Then he helped Flora up to the hard seat and handed her the reins.

As the horse and cart started forward, Grant and Kylia urged the flock to follow, while they walked slowly behind, keeping an eye out for any stragglers.

The journey took the better part of a day, and they reached the village of the clan Kerr shortly before dusk. Long before they arrived, men on horseback had spotted them. While some remained to accompany them, others raced ahead to carry word to their families that they were on their way. By the time they arrived, the entire village had assembled on the green to greet them with a feast.

And what a feast. There were platters of mutton and fish, as well as a whole roasted stag. There were tarts and biscuits, and scones heavy with currants and berries. There were hundreds of questions, and warm embraces from the young couple’s family, as Grant and Kylia were warmly thanked for saving their lives and returning them safely to their village.

Through it all Grant and Kylia smiled and acknowledged their words with as much grace as they could manage. But soon the heat and the food and the knowledge that they were finally safe had their eyes heavy and their heads bobbing.

With much ceremony they were escorted to the finest hut in the village and taken to separate sleeping chambers, where they were helped out of their filthy clothes and into warm baths before being offered beds of softest fur.

The women of the village vied for the honor of washing their clothes and preparing them for the morrow’s journey. But while the women chatted, and the men drank their spirits and spoke in whispers about the beautiful young woman and great laird who had rescued one of their own, Grant and Kylia were oblivious to all but the sweet dreams that played through their minds as they slept.

“How can I ever thank you, my lady?” As the entire village gathered to bid goodbye to their visitors, Flora stepped forward to catch Kylia’s hand and lift it to her lips. “Without your kindness, we would have surely perished at the hands of the barbarians.”

“I require no thanks, Flora.” Refreshed from her night of sleep, restored by the luxury of a bath and fine food, Kylia embraced her new friend. Her clothes, and even her hair smelled of rainwater and evergreen. Her smile was as bright as the sun. “I rejoice that you and your family are now safely home with your clan.”

“That is my wish for you, as well, my lady. May you soon be safely home with those who love you.”

Klyia thought about the sweet paradise she called home, and realized with a pang just how much she missed it. Though she had willingly undertaken this journey, her beloved Mystical Kingdom was never far from her thoughts.

She accepted the hooded cloak from one of the women and tossed it over her shoulders before being helped into the saddle of Grant’s steed. After taking leave of all the men who stood in a circle, Grant pulled himself up behind her and caught up the reins.

“Watch your back,” Ewald called, offering his hand in friendship. “The barbarians may come seeking revenge.”

“I’ll take care. Now I must return to my own people, for I’ve been away from them too long.” Amid calls from the villagers, Grant flicked the reins and the horse took off with a flurry of hoofbeats.

As they left the village behind, Grant couldn’t resist pressing his face to Kylia’s hair. It felt so good to be holding her again. To be breathing in the soft, womanly scent of her that had become such an important part of him on this journey.

She turned her head slightly and found his lips brushing her temple. It was a jolt to her system.

“How far to your home, my lord?”

“Another day.” His voice lowered with feeling. “Another night.” The thought of spending another night alone with her had his blood heating.

Kylia felt the skitter along her spine and wondered, as she did so often, whether he felt such things, too. Or was it different for a man? Especially one as worldly as Grant.

She glanced at his face, but could read nothing in his eyes. She turned her face to the wind and breathed deeply, filling her lungs.

“Tell me about your home and family, my lord, for I’m eager to know all I can about them.”

“I don’t recall my father or mother, since both died before my second year of life. But I’ve been told that my father was a great warrior. His name is still spoken with awe among our kinsmen. It’s said he was fearless in battle, and a fearsome foe to those who crossed him. Still, he was a fair man, and a kind one, who opened his home to widows and orphans.”

“You mentioned an aunt who lives with you.”

He nodded. “Hazlet, my father’s sister. She was betrothed to his trusted friend, Ranald. When both men died on the field of battle, she was filled with grief, and took to her chambers. But when Hazlet learned that my mother’s grief had brought the birth pains too soon, she went to my mother’s room and stayed with her—” his tone softened, and Kylia could hear the warmth of affection in it “—until she was safely delivered of my brother, Dougal.”

“You love him very much.”

“Aye. How could I not? He and I have spent every waking hour together since the day he was born.”

She nodded in understanding, for it had been the same with her and her sisters. “And your aunt? Did she never marry?”

“Hazlet’s love and grief were such that she would never permit another man to win her heart. She was nurse to Dougal, and trusted advisor to us both as we grew to manhood.”

“She must be very proud that you have been elevated to laird of your clan, as your father before you.”

He was silent for long moments before saying, “Perhaps, by the time I return, I will no longer be laird. The council of elders has the power to bestow the title on another in my stead.”

“Would they do that without giving you the opportunity to speak in your own defense?”

“I know not. But this I know. I would rather die than bring dishonor to my father’s name.”

Kylia fell silent, for she understood the depth of his pain. The love she felt for her family was so great she would gladly face death over dishonor.

It was, she realized, one more reason why this man had begun to mean so much to her. They shared not only a love for family, but also a fierce desire to do the right thing, the honorable thing, for the sake of those who loved them.