Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Aoife watched with a frown as Deirdre walked past, her head down, not looking at anyone as she exited the dining hall. Nobody had said a word to Deirdre all day, and Aoife had expected some sort of tantrum in her response. Instead, though, Deirdre had seemingly reacted with grace, keeping to herself, not demanding conversation—not even bringing up Clan Brennan again, though Aoife knew she must be dying to do so.

"Maybe we're being too harsh on her," she whispered to Blair, who was helping Callum cut a piece of meat. "Maybe we should let her ken…"

Blair arched an eyebrow. "For ye of all people tae suggest we're bein' harsh is a little much," she said. "Are ye not the one who spends most of yer time these days criticizin' the lass and her choices?"

Aoife couldn't deny that. But…"I'm as angry at her as the rest of ye. More, even. But I just feel sad watchin' her wanderin' around alone."

Sighing, Blair said, "Och, me wee rose. I don't like it any more than ye do. I raised her frae a bairn, remember that. But that's why I ken that she needs to learn that her actions have consequences. If ye wish tae speak tae her, ye may—of course I'll not prohibit it—but I can't pretend everything is just fine right now."

Callum spoke up. "Auntie Deirdre is sad," he said. "But Mammy is sad too. I don't like it."

"I don't like it either, sweetheart," Aoife told him. "Blair, may I be excused?"

Blair nodded, and Aoife left the hall.

She had intended to follow Deirdre, perhaps even comfort her, but the second she stepped out into the stone hallway, something held her back. A familiar resentment built up inside her—always being the older sister to solve Deirdre's mistakes, but never one of the older girls to make the actual important decisions. Sure, Blair had said she wasn't banned from talking to Deirdre, but Aoife knew that she was simply placating her.

Wasn't that why she had been so eager to accept the marriage to William McLeod? To escape the eternal weight of being in the middle, never young enough to be the baby, never old enough to be appreciated as an adult? She loved her family, both her sisters and the extended family her sisters had married into, but where was she in all of this?

Deirdre seemed fine with her whole identity being wrapped up in an endless war, but not Aoife. Aoife wanted to be free of it, of all of it. It wasn't that she wanted to escape her family—it was just that she wanted a life beyond the only thing she'd ever known. Was that such a crime?

Blair and Jocelyn didn't seem to think so. Both were thrilled by Aoife's betrothal, though Aoife suspected neither understood her true motives. But Deirdre hadn't been able to simply be happy for her. Deirdre knew what Aoife was thinking, Aoife was sure of it, and the younger sister resented her. It broke Aoife's heart—but also strengthened her resolve.

But what about right now? Could her anger leave her little sister alone like this? She dithered on the spot, torn, until a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Aoife?"

She spun to see Liam approaching, a concerned look on his gentle face.

"Are ye all right?" he asked.

She put her hand to her chest, then nodded. "I'm fine," she told him. "Thank ye for checkin' on me. I just…"

"Ye're worried about yer wee sister, aye?" he asked. "Ye shouldn't put so much on yerself, if I may be so bold."

"Ye may," she told him quickly. "Any time. I appreciate yer boldness."

What made me say that?! she wondered immediately, but she knew that the words were true, and she couldn't help but smile at them. Something about Liam brought sunshine wherever he went, no matter how many clouds were in her head and heart.

He chuckled at that. "Well, if I may be bold once more, I was plannin' tae go have a look at tonight's sunset frae the roof. They say the moon will be full tonight, and I'd love tae watch it rise."

Aoife blinked. "That's…unexpected. More bard than soldier, are we?"

He laughed. "Perhaps I've a little of a poet's soul, I admit," he agreed, winking at her. "Will ye join me? Unless, of course, ye must go tae yer sister—I understand."

She glanced behind her to where Deirdre had long since disappeared. Should she follow? What good would it do? Likely, Deirdre would simply lecture her about duty, mope about the Brennans, and they'd be no further ahead than they were before. She thought of her betrothal to a man she'd never met and wondered what her future husband would say now.

Who kens? All he is for now is words on a page. That daring thought made her almost shocked at her own self, but as of this moment, she knew she had to do something for herself. Free of expectations for just once in her life.

"I'll come," she said, and took Liam's outstretched hand.

Deirdre took a deep breath, nervously checking herself in the mirror. She felt very strange to be dressed up in the way she was, with her hair elaborately tied up and wearing one of Aoife's pretty fashionable dresses. Aoife would kill her for borrowing it without asking, but never mind. She'd tried to put some make-up on as well, but had abandoned it after a few tries. She would need someone to help her with that, and she knew she couldn't let anyone know where she was going.

She'd never been one to pay so much attention to her appearance—that had always been Aoife's thing—but Deirdre found that she wanted to look the absolute best she possibly could when she met Ciaran tonight. Perhaps it was a little silly; after all, she had no idea if he was as taken with her as she had been with him based on just that meeting, but it didn't matter. She wanted to show him, and show herself, that she was a lovely woman, not just a pretty girl.

She fixed the pin in her hair, the same gold pin she'd worn yesterday, and tied the cloak around her neck to help her sneak from the castle. She was careful not to use the main entrance this time, though if she was honest, she believed nobody would have cared anyway. None of her sisters or brothers-in-law had spoken to her at all today. It stung, but it was also better this way—if they would not speak with her, then she needn't lie to them.

Deirdre made her way to the stables and was relieved to find that neither Maggie nor the stablemaster were present. She'd prepared a story about how she wanted to take Cider out for some exercise on the grounds of the keep, but the only attendant here was a stableboy, who'd fallen into a doze and didn't notice her enter. Silently, she retrieved the horse and they exited, managing to go completely unnoticed.

As soon as they were free of prying eyes, she mounted Cider and rode as fast as the horse's legs could carry them. It took a little time, but finally she saw the giant tree rising over the horizon, and, as she got closer, a lone figure beneath it, waiting alongside his own horse.

Ciaran walked out to meet her and helped her dismount, then led Cider to the tree where his own horse waited. They made sure the horses were secure, then Ciaran said, "Well, well. I didn't think ye were goin' tae come after all."

"Neither did I," she admitted, allowing him to lead her to the blanket he'd spread out over the grass. She settled down with her back against the tree, and he sat across from her. The look in his eyes was alight with joy, and she wondered if it was truly his excitement at seeing her or if she was just projecting how she felt onto him. "But here I am."

"Here ye are," Ciaran agreed. "And I may be the luckiest man alive." He smiled at her, then glanced at her dress. "What are ye wearin', anyway? Were ye not just mockin' me a day ago for dressin' as a Frenchman? Now here ye are, an English belle!"

She let out a little giggling laugh at that. "Well, between the two of us, we're travelin' the world in our silks and cottons without ever havin' tae leave."

Ciaran chuckled. "As ye say." He reached over to the middle of the blanket where a basket waited, and he drew out a bottle of wine and two earthenware goblets. "Care for some strawberry wine?"

Deirdre smiled. "It's my favorite. How did ye ken?"

"Well, it's red and sweet, with a little kick of course," he replied, pouring them both a glass. He gestured to her hair and said, "Same as ye, no?"

"Are ye callin' me a strawberry?" she demanded, accepting the cup with a silent nod of thanks.

"One any man would die happy if he had the chance tae taste," Ciaran replied.

After that, Deirdre knew that her hair was not the only thing that was red, but Ciaran did not comment on how pink her cheeks must have turned. Grasping for something to change the subject and distract her from the confusing yearning feeling that had suddenly filled her, she said, "Ye've changed clothes as well. What are ye wearin' now?"

He glanced down at his clothing, then back up at her. "This is what the men wear in Spain. Similar tae the French, but a little less gaudy. I thought it might be more tae yer taste."

"It'd be more tae me taste tae see ye dressed as a Scotsman," Deirdre replied, then took a sip of her drink. The sharp sweetness popped in her mouth, more delicious than she'd expected, and she let out a small noise of pleasure.

Ciaran's eyes focused on her, and she saw something change in them, then—something darker, but not dangerous, flickered behind his stormy eyes for just a moment. He moved a little closer to her and said, "I've disappointed ye, then. Shall I disrobe here and now for yer amusement?"

Part of Deirdre knew how wildly inappropriate this conversation was becoming. She could not allow a man, and a stranger at that, to say such things—she was the daughter and sister-in-law of two different Lairds, and she had a reputation to keep up.

And yet, and yet…what harm was there in having a little fun? What was the difference in indulging in a little flirtation with this man, who, by any means, she was unlikely to ever see again after this one wonderful night?

"I'm sure that's an offer ye've made tae many women," she said, trying to keep her voice neutral and not allow any of the excitement or daring to enter into it. She wasn't sure she succeeded, as Ciaran's grin grew wider.

"Would it bother ye if I had?" he asked, then took a long sip of his own wine, watching her carefully over the rim. "What if I told ye I'd lain with a thousand women in Europe?"

Deirdre's heart hammered. "Well then," she said, as coolly as she could manage, "I'd ask how ye ever had any time tae get any travellin' done."

He blinked, then started to laugh. A moment later she laughed too. How absurd this all was! She realized that for the first time in a long time, she felt a sense of freedom, and she was desperate to hold on to it for a little longer.

"Really, now," she said, "If ye've spent so long travelin', how about ye stay a little longer here in the McFerguson lands? We've plenty tae offer, after all."

The look he gave her—so intense! Goosebumps covered the skin of her arms that had nothing to do with the chill of the night.

"A temptin' offer," he agreed. "And one I long tae accept. Sadly, though, not one within me power. But let's not talk of partin' now. Tell me about yerself, sweet Deirdre."

Deirdre leaned back against the tree and sighed. Tell him about herself? What was there to tell? She opened her mouth to explain that she wasn't so interesting, but what came out was completely different.

"I'm the youngest of four sisters," she told him. "The bairn, as they still call me, though tae be honest, I'm sick of it. I've got no identity outside of bein' the youngest, and I don't really think I ever will have."

Ciaran surveyed her carefully, then said, "And why do ye think that?"

"Because they can't see me as anythin' but a wee lassie," she explained. "I'm not a woman tae them, not even nearly. I'm just the same wee spoiled bairn they had tae take care of for years, and they've no interest in listenin' tae anythin' else."

"Ye look like a woman tae me," Ciaran said. It wasn't a flirtation this time; she could hear a seriousness in his tone that hadn't been there before. "And ye speak with the gravity of a lady who kens the meanin' and seriousness of yer words."

"Thank ye," she said. "If only me sisters could see that. I love them with all me heart, I truly do, but…the pressure is too much. I don't know how tae make them understand that I feel smothered."

"I'm sorry. Ye deserve more than that."

Deirdre gave him a faint smile, heartened by his comfort. "Never mind all that," she said. "What about ye? Do ye have brothers? Sisters?"

He shook his head, a faraway look of melancholy crossing his face. "No, I…me mother died when I was born," he explained. "I was the only bairn born of the marriage, and me father's only survivin' offspring."

"Oh no. I'm sorry to have mentioned it." Deirdre hesitated, then reached out and put her hand over his. He didn't move away. "I lost both me mother and father before I can really remember," she said. "It's a strange feelin', missin' people that I never really kent."

"Aye," Ciaran agreed. "But we miss them still."

They sat in silence together for a while after that, then conversation turned to lighter things. He asked about her dress again, and she told him about her sisters—how Aoife loved such pretty things, how Jocelyn spent all her time in the library, how Blair had always been their mother-figure. She talked about her nephews and her niece, and about life at the castle, and about Cider, even, as the horse napped nearby.

In turn, Ciaran told her stories of his travels through Europe and even farther. How he'd nearly married a woman in another country due to a linguistic misunderstanding. How he'd once had to pretend to be a priest to escape arrest due to a case of mistaken identity. She was fairly certain he was making some if not all of these stories up to entertain her, but she laughed anyway, gasping and applauding in all the right spots.

As the night wore on, they lay back together on the blanket, looking up at the stars.

"I love Scotland," he told her. "But me heart is always wanderin'. I need somethin' tae anchor it here."

"Maybe ye really are a pirate," she told him. "And yer love is the sea."

He laughed. "Or maybe me love is a darin' lass who speaks her mind without so much as a thought for what anyone else thinks."

Deirdre turned her head to look at him. "Ye'll not find a woman like that here," she told him.

In answer, he leaned over and pressed his lips against hers, just once, in a gentle kiss. Deirdre closed her eyes, the new, unexpected feeling overwhelming her. She'd never been kissed, never really thought she'd find someone who wanted her, and even that brush of the lips was enough to change something in her forever.

When she opened her eyes, he was watching her.

"Forgive me forwardness," he whispered, "But ye're just so bonny layin' here in the moonlight."

In response, she moved closer, raising a hand to touch his cheek. "Kiss me again," she spoke into the night.

He did, this time more deeply, his arms pulling her tight against him, their mouths parting, moving in sync. Deirdre allowed the sensations to overwhelm her, shivering when his tongue brushed her lips, letting out a pleased little moan when he ran his hand down her back.

After some time, he pulled away again and they lay there, foreheads together.

"Don't ye want…" Deirdre started, then trailed off. What was she saying? She was so new to this, all of this. She'd heard from some of the servant girls that men only wanted one thing, and though James and Lachlan both seemed different, she'd thought them exceptions. She'd never expected this to be so…tender.

He chuckled, kissing her forehead. "Believe me, I want ye," he told her. "But I willnae have ye like this, new and unsuspectin' and unsure."

Ciaran shifted onto his back once more and pulled her gently so that her head was resting against his chest, her arm draped around his waist.

"What about all those thousands of women in Europe?"

Smiling, Ciaran said, "However many women I may or may not have lain with, none of them holds a candle tae ye," he told her, running his hand through her hair. "A woman's virtue is precious tae her. I will not take yers on a whim. Ye deserve tae wait for the man ye love."

"I could love ye," Deirdre told him, feeling lightheaded as the words escaped her. "If we had some more time together, I could love ye more than the world. I ken it."

She expected him to laugh again, but he didn't. In fact, he grew strangely quiet, almost solemn.

They lay there together in silence once more for quite some time, so long that Deirdre began to feel herself dozing off in his arms. But then he shook her and whispered, "Look."

Deirdre turned to see the sun rising over the horizon, the sky a stunning landscape of pinks and purples and reds and blues. He held her close as they watched the sun make its way into the sky, signaling the end of their special, secret night.

"I should go," she whispered.

"Aye," he replied. "They'll be missin' ye."

But she didn't move, and he made no move to encourage her. Five minutes passed. Ten.

"I don't want tae leave ye," she admitted.

Ciaran seemed to consider her words for a moment, then said, "All right. Come with me, then."

Deirdre sat up straight, shock driving all the sleepiness from her system. "What?"

"Ye heard me. Come with me back tae me clan. Get away frae all of this." He sat up too, taking her hands in his. "I mean it, Deirdre. I can't stand tae think of leavin' ye here so unhappy. Actually, if I'm truthful, I can't stand tae think of leavin' ye at all."

Deirdre didn't know what to say. A part of her screamed about how ridiculous this all was—while another part screamed quite the opposite.

"I can't just leave," she told him quietly. "I have a duty."

"And what of yer duty tae yerself?" Ciaran asked earnestly. "When the original Deirdre ran frae everythin' tae be with her Naoise, did it not result in the happiest years of her life? In her findin' freedom for the first time?"

"It did," she agreed, wavering. "But ye're forgettin' her story ended in tragedy. Naoise died. Deirdre too."

"Then let's rewrite it," he insisted. He stood, moving toward their horses. "Let's tell the story anew, but with the right endin' this time."

Deirdre's heart was racing, her mind whirling, and the weight of the decision was almost too much to bear. She was ready to tell him no—he couldn't—when suddenly loud sounds filled the air.

Hoofbeats and men shouting…shouting her name! James's men were looking for her. There was no more time.

Ciaran seemed to know it too. "Are ye comin' with me?" he asked her. "It's now or never."

Deirdre helplessly looked out toward the direction where the men were approaching. Then, without a word, she started to gather the blanket.

"Leave it," he said. "There's no time."

She nodded, and hurried to help him untie the two horses. Cider whinnied as she mounted, getting comfortable in the saddle, then looked back toward the castle.

Ciaran was on his own horse, and he was watching her.

"What's it tae be, Deirdre?" he asked her.

"Lead the way," she told him. "I'll follow."

They set off into the sunrise, horses galloping at top speed, and Deirdre did not allow herself to stop and think about what she was leaving behind.