The Summer Star: One Legend, Three Enchanting Novellas (Legends of Scotland Book 2) Page 27

  “He does,” she rolled her eyes at her mum, “especially when he kissed me.” The warmth that had filled Elspet during the ritual turned to the roar of a fire within her. She pressed her palms to her cheeks to cool them.

  Her mother’s brows rose quickly in surprise. Elspet took that as a good sign that no one had witnessed their awkward attempt at courtship. It had lasted only as long as the quick kiss.

  “It is not usually thought kind to laugh when a man kisses you,” Mariota said.

  “Nay, but he laughed, too. We have tried, Mum, to see each other in a different way, but ’tis impossible. I will keep him as my friend and look for another to be my husband…no matter what Rab thinks is the right thing to do.”

  They walked in silence for a little while. Mariota looped her arm with Elspet’s, drawing them close.

  “Did you meet the woman who arrived last night? Brighde?” her mum asked.

  “Nay, though I saw her from the tower.”

  Mariota peered up at the sky peeking through the dense treetops, then down at her feet.

  “What do you wish to say, Mum?” Elspet tried to keep her face expressionless, but it was difficult. She knew her mum well enough to know there was something on her mind that she wasn’t sure she should give voice to. Elspet did not ken what she hesitated for, but she also knew eventually her mother would say whatever it was, and better now than to wait.

  “She, Brighde, says a wandering star will pass over us very soon. The Summer Star she calls it. She says it passes over only once every seventy-five years, and with it, it brings transformation.” Mariota looked away from Elspet, off into the woods. “Perhaps,” she said slowly, “the star will transform Uilliam into the man you will love forever?”

  Elspet covered her mouth quickly to keep from laughing at her mother’s hope.

  “If a star can do such a thing,” she said when she had herself back in control of her voice, “that might be best for everyone, but let us not raise anyone else’s hopes just yet.”

  Kenneth MacGregor stopped where the trail he had been following for the last several hours crested the shoulder of a small mountain. He took the stopper out of his water skin and enjoyed a long drink as he took in the beauty of the deep greens of the forest all around him. Birds sang overhead and a breeze found its way through the trees ruffling the leaves and cooling his skin.

  He’d been traveling for several months now, on the trail of his younger brother, Drostan, moving ever deeper into the Highlands as the weather warmed from late winter to early summer. In all his six-and-twenty years he had never traveled far from where he’d grown up, nor had he ever expected to.

  He pressed his fingers to the knot in his shoulder that had been his constant companion for as long as he could remember. Unfortunately, it never gave any indication of abating and had been growing steadily more bothersome since the day Drostan had left, promising to return before winter set in.

  Kenneth worked the knot in his shoulder harder, kneading it harshly.

  They had traded angry words when his brother had given Kenneth only a few hours’ notice of his departure. That he had not known where he was bound, nor even why he knew this was the time to go, had not made it easy for Kenneth to accept, but in the end, he had had no choice. He remembered standing mute as his his brother walked away from him.

  When Drostan hadn’t returned as he said he would, anger turned to concern. When winter set in, concern turned to worry. When summer returned, his worry over Drostan’s fate turned to a deep fear. It had taken most of a second year for Kenneth to discharge his commitment to the garrison at Kilstrae and then he, too, walked into the west, following his brother’s trail.

  Kenneth gave up on loosening the knot in his shoulder and took another drink of water as he considered which way to go now.

  A small path led straight ahead around the shoulder of the mountain, but the larger path he had been traveling turned to his right and descended. He considered which way Drostan might have gone…if he had even come this way. Kenneth had lost his brother’s trail days ago, but so far Drostan had moved west regularly, so Kenneth did as well, hoping some sign of Drostan would turn up soon.

  Backtracking, if it didn’t, would be frustrating and time consuming. He put himself in his brother’s brogues at each decision point, and so far that had served him well.

  The larger, more well-traveled, path beckoned to him, perhaps leading to a village where he could have a hot meal and discover some news of his brother.

  Before long, he began to notice two pairs of recent tracks, female, by the size of them, and that bolstered his hope that there was a settlement very near.

  As he rounded a bend in the trail, the view of the glen opened up before him. A long, narrow loch stretched out at the foot of the ben, its surface ruffled by a breeze, its water reflecting the color of the cloudless summer-blue sky above. A castle stood on the near shore, not far below his vantage point.

  The thought of sleeping within the comfort of stone walls for a night was more appealing than he expected. Perhaps it was just that he knew that the boredom of guards often led to a sharper focus on the comings and goings of those in and around a castle, than busy villagers might. If Drostan had passed here he would have been noticed, even if he didn’t decide to seek shelter.

  Kenneth set off at a faster pace, anxious to see if there was any evidence that he had found Drostan’s path again.

  As he came out of the forest he heard a whistle go up from the top of the castle wall and knew that he had been spotted. He scanned for a gate and saw none, but he did see two women disappear around the west corner of the curtain wall and followed them. As he turned the corner he saw the women stopped outside the gate. He slowed his pace as he approached them.

  Without any seeming concern, the two women stepped into the shadow of the gate and a grizzle-haired warrior stepped out of the shadows, into the sun. He planted his feet. His left hand rested on the sword at his hip. His expression was unreadable. It was exactly the stance Kenneth took when a stranger approached Kilstrae.

  A short, slightly bow-legged, guard, who had initially been hidden by the women, stood to that man’s right.

  The only odd thing about the smooth movement of them all was that the women did not go inside the castle, but appeared to be waiting to see who he might be.

  “Good day,” Kenneth said, stopping just out of range of the warrior’s sword. “I have traveled far and would ask for the hospitality of your chief. I am Kenneth MacGregor.

  “Of…”

  “Lately of Kilstrae.”

  The man considered him for a long moment, his eyes narrowed. Finally he said, “and before that?”

  “Once of a wee village on Loch Katrine you would never have heard of.”

  “Glasarnan?” one of the women asked.

  Kenneth rocked back on his heels but quickly regained his balance. He tried to see the speaker, but she stood in deep shadow and he could make out nothing of her.

  “How do you ken Glasarnan?” His mind was reeling with the possibilities. He tried to calm the pounding of his heart, the whoosh of its beat in his ears, but could not.

  “You are from—”

  “Elspet!” The warrior did not turn away from Kenneth but clearly he wished to quiet the woman. Instead she stepped out of the shadows, but still stood a little behind the warrior.

  “You are from Glasarnan?” Her pale hair was pulled into a long loose braid that draped over her shoulder, the tail dropping almost to her waist. Her gaze locked with his and the question hung in her strikingly pale-blue eyes.

  “Answer the question,” the warrior said.

  Kenneth glanced at the warrior and gave a slight nod, then turned his attention back to the person clearly in charge, at least in this moment. Elspet.

  “I am,” he said to her. “How do you know of it?” There was only one way, for there were only two survivors of Glasarnan — only two who remembered it.

  She stepped a little clos
er, even with the warrior now. The warrior took a step closer to Kenneth, bringing him within sword’s reach, but Kenneth stood his ground. He needed to know her answer.

  “How fares the planting there this year?” she asked instead of answering him. She watched him with all the focus of a hungry hawk ahunt. He almost smiled, but didn’t. She was testing him. He was sure of that, and there was no reason to do do if she wasn’t protecting Drostan. But why?

  “Your pardon, mistress, but if you ken aught of Glasarnan, you know ’twas burned to the ground many years ago and nothing has been planted since.”

  Elspet nodded slowly, but she still held his gaze.

  “Do you have a brother?”

  “Aye, six years my younger. Drostan is his name. You ken him.” It was not a question.

  “We do. He told us of a brother, but not that you would be following him here.”

  “He does not ken I have been seeking him. Does he bide here?”

  “This man is most welcome.” The other woman stepped out of the shadows and stood next to Elspet before Elspet could answer him. This woman was shorter, darker, but there was something about her eyes, and her carriage, that made him think she was Elspet’s mum.

  “Lady Mariota,” the warrior said, “we do not ken this man.”

  “No, Rab,” she, Mariota, replied, “but we ken his brother well. I give him leave to enter the castle. My husband will grant him hospitality.” She spoke like a woman well used to getting her way.

  Rab scowled at Mariota and seemed about to refuse to accept her decision. His mouth was pinched, but when she did not waver he stepped aside, allowing a clear way through the gate.

  “Let us find the chief and get you settled,” Mariota continued, “then there will be plenty of time to speak of your wayward brother.”

  “Welcome to Dunlairig Castle.” Elspet gave him a brilliant smile this time, a smile so sunny and bright that he could not help but return it. She hesitated, a bemused look on her bonny face, before she turned and led the way into the castle.

  Rab stopped Kenneth from following Elspet and her mother with a hand to the center chest. “Mind your step, lad. Elspet is promised.”

  Kenneth shook off the man’s hand and matched his stance, warrior to warrior. “I am here for my brother, nothing more.”

  Rab stared at him for a long moment, then stepped aside one more, but followed close on Kenneth’s heels as they passed through the gate.

  Chapter 2

  Elspet led the way across the bailey, her mother and their visitor following just behind and to either side of her, with Rab bringing up the rear. She tried to catch her breath and still her heart, which had begun pounding erratically the moment she had seen Kenneth McGregor rounding the corner of the castle wall. It was as if she knew him, had always known him, and had only been awaiting his return to her.

  But that was utterly daft. She had never met the man before, though she did know his brother. Elspet quickly discarded that as an explanation.

  Kenneth and Drostan did not favor each other enough to have created an instant recognition. Where Drostan and was lean and carried a head of curly MacGregor-red hair, Kenneth was taller, broader, and built more like a warrior—a warrior with raven-black hair, emerald-green eyes, and a smile that felt like it was just for her. She glanced over her left shoulder at the man only to find him watching her, as if he knew her thoughts, that very expression playing softly on his lips. She stumbled over her own feet and he reached out to steady her with a hand to her elbow. His touch created a potent combination of intense awareness and a wish to lean into his strength.

  “I thank you.” She smiled at him, then quickly returned her attention to crossing the bailey without another misstep. When they reached the tower, she opened the door at its base and allowed her mother to lead Kenneth MacGregor the rest of the way to the chief’s chamber, Rab still hard on the visitor’s heels.

  Elspet needed a moment to clear her mind of fanciful thoughts about Kenneth MacGregor.

  Kenneth tried to keep his attention trained on the grey-haired chief, the MacAlpin, who sat before him, but he was distracted by Elspet’s proximity, by her scent of heather and something earthier—rosemary?—that surrounded him, muddling his senses. Never had he felt so immediately drawn to a woman. Her voice had captured his attention, as had her gaze, but there was something else, something he couldn’t even describe, that called out to him.

  Now she stood a little apart from him and to his right, just at the periphery of his vision. The Lady Mariota stood on the other side of Elspet, and Rab remained just inside the chamber door.

  Rab’s warning arrowed into the midst of Kenneth’s thoughts of Elspet, a sharp reminder that she was not the reason he was here. Remembering his quest, his vow, helped him finally force his thoughts into order, to only observe the chief, and the chamber.

  Not the women.

  Not Elspet.

  He stood as tall as he could, calling on all his training as a warrior, as captain of the guard at Kilstrae. He began to catalog his surroundings, something he should have been doing from the moment he entered the castle, but had not. It shocked him how easily everything he knew, everything he’d spent years training for, had been set aside by the presence of…

  Once more he forced his attention back to this moment and this place. He took note of what he knew so far. The chief’s chamber was neither large nor small, nor grandly furnished. The man who sat by the hearth did not seem the sort to need trappings to establish his position. Rab was clearly the chief’s champion: his battle leader and the one in charge of the security of the castle.

  The feeling of Rab’s stare boring into Kenneth’s back was palpable, making it hard not to turn around and face him—which would be an unforgivable insult to the MacAlpin. Kenneth stood his ground, accepting that Rab was no threat to him at this time, though he would tread lightly around the man. With luck, Drostan was here. Finding his brother was worth the temporary discomfort of allowing his back to be unguarded.

  It was only then, when it seemed his quest might be nearing its end, that he realized he had not thought beyond finding his brother.

  And it was then that the MacAlpin finally broke the silence.

  “Why do you seek Drostan?”

  Kenneth was sure the chief had been taking his measure in the long silence, just as Kenneth had been trying to do.

  “He is my brother,” Kenneth replied.

  “Many have brothers wandering the breadth of Scotland and beyond. Why do you search out this one?”

  Kenneth studied the chief as he tried to discern what the man was searching for, but he could not tell. Canny, that one. Even as he admired the trait, his frustration rose with each moment that passed without any answer as to what these people new of his brother and his whereabouts. He raised his chin and took a long breath, determined to hold to his quest, whether it ended here or continued onward.

  “Does Drostan yet live?”

  “Answer my question to my satisfaction and I will consider answering yours.”

  “Da, do not keep the man waiting.” The bonny Elspet stepped up beside Kenneth and placed her hand tentatively on his forearm. Her touch sent a heady rush throughout his body as she gave him a sweet smile accompanied by a strong message in her pointed gaze—let her help. He dipped his head ever so slightly, welcoming any aid she could provide. “’Tis his brother he searches for. His family.”

  Rab cleared his throat. The MacAlpin said nothing, nor did Elspet’s mum. Elspet let her hand drop to her side, but did not step away from him. Kenneth did his best to keep his feet planted, and turned his attention back to her father. The loss of her touch unsettled him, and that reaction unsettled him even more, but he was careful not to show anything but calm resolve to learn of his brother’s fate.

  “He is my only living kin,” Kenneth said. “I have had no word from him since he left over two years past. I need to make certain he is well.” He tried to keep the strength of that need in che
ck, but he suspected he did not when the chief leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the carved arms of his chair.

  “So you tramp all over the Highlands hunting for him?”

  “Would you not do the same were Mistress Elspet your only living kin?” The words were out of his mouth unbidden and unconsidered.

  “Aye,” the chief agreed. “But she is my daughter, not my brother. My brothers were warriors well able to take care of themselves. I would not have sought them out in such a way merely to assuage my concerns over their welfare.”

  “Drostan and I were orphaned when I was ten-and-two and he was not quite six. The last time we saw our mum, she made me vow to keep my brother always safe. I have trained him in the ways of the warrior, but that vow still binds my responsibility to him.”

  “And what did you leave behind to search for him?”

  “I was the captain of the guard at Kilstrae Castle.”

  “And you left behind responsibility for the safe keeping of all of Kilstrae to seek out one wayward brother. Was not your vow to your chief stronger than a vow made when Drostan was little more than a bairn?”

  “I did as I pledged to Kilstrae, until I could take my leave appropriately. ’Tis why I have not searched out Drostan sooner. I ken well that he is a grown man, capable of keeping himself safe, but the vow I made was to our mother, the last thing she ever asked of me, and I am once more free to take it up.”

  The chief nodded his head slowly, as if he found satisfaction with Kenneth’s answer. “He bides not far from here.”

  It took a moment for the news to sink in. “Not far? Where?” he finally asked, his voice quieter than he expected, in spite of the surge of excitement that had his heartbeat pounding in his ears again.

  “I canna say.” The chief leaned back in his chair and relaxed. “Drostan is quite canny with the particulars of his life. Elspet knows him better than most. What can you tell this man, daughter?”

  Elspet still stood next to Kenneth. She looked up at him again with clear blue eyes, and for a moment he was once more distracted from his purpose here.