despite his pack of soldiers on mules, he said nothing, and Aidan knew instinctively that he had been correct in his assumptions.
“ I am Aidan,” he revealed, looking away from David, meeting Iain’s gaze, “last of the blood of Giric, grandson of Duncan MacAlpin, brother to Kenneth and the last of the Kings of Dal Riata.”
The MacKinnon spurred his mount forward, his black horse prancing with a confidence that its master shared.
“ I have no quarrel with you,” Aidan was quick to say. “But the woman you hold is my sister. If you but return her to me now, we will take our leave and return to the Mounth.”
The ensuing silence was deafening as both men assessed each other. After a moment, the MacKinnon peered behind him. “Is this true?” he asked at large.
It was Catrìona who stepped forward, weaving her way out of the protective horseflesh mantle they had cast about her. “Aye, she affirmed to the MacKinnon. “This man is my brother.”
“ How is it you come to be so far from home?” the MacKinnon asked her.
Cat peered up at King David, who now suddenly seemed reluctant to speak a word. She weighed her own words wisely, sensing that she was surrounded by far too much male pride for anyone to leave unscathed if she but said the wrong word.
She held her head high, and lied through her teeth. “I went for a walk,” she said and peered at her brother. She lifted a shoulder, a bit of a shrug.
Aidan lifted a single dark brow. Her brother was darker skinned than she, with hair that flowed down his back as black as sin.
He knew she sought to avoid bloodshed and he graciously allowed it.
MacKinnon looked toward King David then. “What say you, David? You have yet to speak a word… is this the same woman you seek?”
David looked at her again, blinking, thwarted he realized.
She glanced at the one called Dùghall, the one she had smacked on the forehead in order to escape. The man glared at her, but said nothing, and in fact, looked away.
It took David a long moment to finally reply. He inched his horse forward and pretended to look her over—a ruse, because he had been the one to order his men to strip her bare so that she would be less inclined to escape. And then he had ogled every inch of her though to his credit he had forbade his men to abuse her. His horse pranced beneath him impatiently as he pretended to inspect her, and all the while the men formed a tighter band behind the MacKinnon laird—a move that was not lost to David.
It was clear to Cat in that moment where loyalties lay.
David’s men stood completely apart from the rest, a handful of riders who looked as though they would piss their britches if the wrong word were spoken.
And finally, the King of Scotia spoke. “Nay,” he said at last. “I do not know this woman. She is not the one we seek.”
Cat exhaled with relief.
There was a moment of silence, and then the MacKinnon asked, his tone low, but laced with sarcasm, “Are you certain?”
“ Aye,” David assured him once and for all, more firmly this time. “She is not the woman we seek. Come!” he directed his men, and they took their leave at once, though the MacKinnon’s, the Brodies and Montgomerie and his men all remained.
Once it was certain that David would not return, Aidan came forward on his white horse, and bade her, “Next time you take a walk, my dear Cat, remind me to give you a leash,” he said sardonically. “Now let us go home.”
Cat’s heart felt near to breaking. She shook her head, refusing to move.
Gavin had had quite enough. He pushed his way through his brothers and through MacKinnon’s men, moving into the forefront. “Nay!” he shouted. “You cannot take her!”
He strode directly before this man who called himself her brother but who spoke of putting her on a leash. He stood there in defiance, so angered that he had no notion that his breacan had come undone.
“ I will hear it from her own two lips that she
“ I am Aidan,” he revealed, looking away from David, meeting Iain’s gaze, “last of the blood of Giric, grandson of Duncan MacAlpin, brother to Kenneth and the last of the Kings of Dal Riata.”
The MacKinnon spurred his mount forward, his black horse prancing with a confidence that its master shared.
“ I have no quarrel with you,” Aidan was quick to say. “But the woman you hold is my sister. If you but return her to me now, we will take our leave and return to the Mounth.”
The ensuing silence was deafening as both men assessed each other. After a moment, the MacKinnon peered behind him. “Is this true?” he asked at large.
It was Catrìona who stepped forward, weaving her way out of the protective horseflesh mantle they had cast about her. “Aye, she affirmed to the MacKinnon. “This man is my brother.”
“ How is it you come to be so far from home?” the MacKinnon asked her.
Cat peered up at King David, who now suddenly seemed reluctant to speak a word. She weighed her own words wisely, sensing that she was surrounded by far too much male pride for anyone to leave unscathed if she but said the wrong word.
She held her head high, and lied through her teeth. “I went for a walk,” she said and peered at her brother. She lifted a shoulder, a bit of a shrug.
Aidan lifted a single dark brow. Her brother was darker skinned than she, with hair that flowed down his back as black as sin.
He knew she sought to avoid bloodshed and he graciously allowed it.
MacKinnon looked toward King David then. “What say you, David? You have yet to speak a word… is this the same woman you seek?”
David looked at her again, blinking, thwarted he realized.
She glanced at the one called Dùghall, the one she had smacked on the forehead in order to escape. The man glared at her, but said nothing, and in fact, looked away.
It took David a long moment to finally reply. He inched his horse forward and pretended to look her over—a ruse, because he had been the one to order his men to strip her bare so that she would be less inclined to escape. And then he had ogled every inch of her though to his credit he had forbade his men to abuse her. His horse pranced beneath him impatiently as he pretended to inspect her, and all the while the men formed a tighter band behind the MacKinnon laird—a move that was not lost to David.
It was clear to Cat in that moment where loyalties lay.
David’s men stood completely apart from the rest, a handful of riders who looked as though they would piss their britches if the wrong word were spoken.
And finally, the King of Scotia spoke. “Nay,” he said at last. “I do not know this woman. She is not the one we seek.”
Cat exhaled with relief.
There was a moment of silence, and then the MacKinnon asked, his tone low, but laced with sarcasm, “Are you certain?”
“ Aye,” David assured him once and for all, more firmly this time. “She is not the woman we seek. Come!” he directed his men, and they took their leave at once, though the MacKinnon’s, the Brodies and Montgomerie and his men all remained.
Once it was certain that David would not return, Aidan came forward on his white horse, and bade her, “Next time you take a walk, my dear Cat, remind me to give you a leash,” he said sardonically. “Now let us go home.”
Cat’s heart felt near to breaking. She shook her head, refusing to move.
Gavin had had quite enough. He pushed his way through his brothers and through MacKinnon’s men, moving into the forefront. “Nay!” he shouted. “You cannot take her!”
He strode directly before this man who called himself her brother but who spoke of putting her on a leash. He stood there in defiance, so angered that he had no notion that his breacan had come undone.
“ I will hear it from her own two lips that she
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