Gawen's Claim: Highlander Fate, Lairds of the Isles Book One Read online

  "I cannae fathom that. Feasting is commonplace at Carraig Castle,” he said, looking mildly horrified.

  “Not everyone has a castle, Laird MacRaild,” Lila returned, her lips twitching with amusement of her own.

  Gawen returned her smile. The smile lit up his handsome face, making his green eyes practically sparkle; a rush of warmth rippled through her at the sight.

  “Ye can call me Gawen,” he said. “I insist.”

  “Gawen,” she said, as if tasting the name on her lips. His gaze briefly lowered to her mouth as she spoke, before he averted it.

  The man seated at his other side drew him into conversation, and relief skittered through her as he turned his focus to the man. The way he’d been looking at her had made it difficult to breathe.

  Lila surveyed the great hall, wondering if the aingidh she sought was already in her midst. Could she be one of these unassuming-looking guests, using a glamour to disguise herself? But other than the curious, and mildly suspicious glances cast her way, no one seemed to bear any malice toward her. Well, no one except for the blonde who’d been glaring at her ever since she’d entered the great hall with Gawen.

  Gawen spoke to her sparingly for the rest of the feast, introducing her to several other nobles and his steward, Aonghus, a tall, dark-haired man with kind brown eyes, who sat at their table. She didn’t know if any of them knew who she truly was, but they all gave her lingering looks.

  When the feast came to an end and everyone began to drift out of the hall, Gawen escorted her to her chamber.

  “We ride out at first light tomorrow, tae the sights of the two murders,” he said, when they reached her chamber. “It will be a ride of some distance; we will have tae stay at an inn. How long do ye think it will take ye tae perform yer magic and locate the aingidh?”

  “It’s not that simple,” she hedged. “I don’t know which spells will work; she may have cloaked herself. I’ve already tried to locate her, as has my coven leader.”

  His brows knitted together in a scowl.

  “I thought ye could carry out yer spell, end this dark witch, and be on yer way. I donnae like kenning there are witches on my lands.”

  She stiffened, defensive anger swelling in her chest.

  “I am nothing like the dark witch. I’m here to help; she’s here to wreak havoc. The stiuireadh only want to protect the flow of time, to help people.”

  The smile Gawen gave her was edged with bitterness.

  “I think the stiuireadh serve their own purpose, same as anyone,” he bit out. “’Tis not natural tae travel through time. I’m assisting ye only because I’m honor bound tae do so.”

  “Speaking as a stiuireadh, I assure you I only want to help protect time,” Lila snapped. “I want to stop her. We’re not enemies, Gawen.”

  But his green eyes still burned with anger. He took a step closer, and despite her irritation, a current of desire swept over her.

  “What is it that makes you distrust us?” she asked, forcing herself to speak, struggling not to let his proximity distract her.

  He stared down at her, his square jaw clenched. He was standing so close that she could smell the sweet wine on his breath and see the faint flecks of blue in his eyes. Her breath hitched; despite their mutual anger, there was no denying the flame of desire that had roared to life between them. Lila’s simmering anger vanished, overtaken by desire, and she leaned ever so slightly forward, wanting nothing more than for him to seize her lips with his . . .

  But he took a jerky step back from her, swallowing hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

  "Ye should sleep. I'll have yer maid wake ye tae help ye get dressed," he said, before turning on his heel and disappearing down the corridor, leaving her trembling with remnant anger—and desire.

  Chapter 6

  Gawen gripped the reins of his horse, keeping his focus on the winding dirt road ahead as Lila rode along beside him. It had been exceedingly difficult to sleep last night, the memory of how close he'd come to kissing her searing itself into his mind.

  She's a stiuireadh, he'd had to repeatedly remind himself. A lass with the unnatural power tae move through time. A witch who can manipulate fate and destiny.

  Anger seized him at the memory of his family's suffering before they died, and the stiuireadh’s refusal to help him prevent it. He tightened his grip on the reins. He needed to remain focused. Never mind that she looked even lovelier today in a gown of deep blue that emphasized her beautiful eyes, with strands of brunette waves falling loose from her braids as she rode, fanning around her face.

  He forced his gaze away from her, returning it to the road ahead as they made their way through the countryside dotted with rolling, green hills. Dampness hung in the air, potent with the promise of rain. Fortunately, the weather held during their ride, and they soon arrived at the outskirts of a small village on the edge of his lands.

  As they approached the thatch-roofed cottage, the home of Clinnen and Vika Moray, he dismounted, turning to face Lila.

  “Clinnen Moray's widow is still grieving," he said, giving her a sharp look. "If she doesnae want tae talk tae us—”

  "Of course," Lila interrupted, glowering at him. "I have no intention of making the poor woman suffer."

  He wanted to retort that stiuireadh rarely seemed to consider the feelings of others, but given the mutinous expression on her face, he held his tongue.

  They approached the cottage as Vika Moray swung open the door, her brown eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Gawen.

  "Laird MacRaild," Vika said. "I wasnae expecting yer visit."

  "I apologize for taking ye by surprise. How are ye, Vika?" he asked, with a gentle smile. "Did ye receive the bread and meats I sent over?"

  He’d known Vika and Clinnen Moray since he was a lad and would visit the surrounding lands with his father and steward to collect rents. His father had told him it was important to know the common folk who tended their lands. These are the men and women ye protect, who swear fealty tae ye for this protection. Ye will only earn their true loyalty with kindness and equanimity.

  "I did. I thank ye, my laird. It will help me get through the winter without—” Her voice wavered, and she swallowed, her eyes briefly shadowing with grief. "Is there anything I can do for ye while ye're here?" she continued, her eyes straying to Lila with curiosity.

  “This is Lila, a friend of my family’s, visiting from England," he said. “She accompanied me on my ride through the countryside today. I wanted tae see how ye were faring while I was out this way. I want ye tae ken I'm still determined tae find out what truly happened tae Clinnen."

  Vika’s eyes shimmered with tears, and she gave him a grateful nod.

  “I thank ye, my laird."

  "Do ye mind if I ask ye more about what happened that night? Lila doesnae have tae be present if ye donnae wish. And if ye donnae want tae—”

  “No,” Vika said firmly. “I want justice for my Clinnen. Please, ye’re both welcome.”

  They entered her cottage, and she poured them two cups of water she’d collected from the nearby well as they sat at the table by the hearth in the cottage's main room.

  “Clinnen would often go tae the tavern after a good day in the fields. This last time was no exception. I kent he'd be coming home late, so I went tae sleep. Had I kent what was tae come . . ." Her face twisted with grief, but she made herself continue. "When I awoke the next morning, he wasnae at my side like he usually is. I went out tae look for him, and when I found him . . . he was lying on the ground in the back. It looked as if he'd been struck from behind. There—there was a ragged slash across his chest. His eyes were still open, but he was gone."

  She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, tears streaming from her eyes.

  "Clinnen didnae deserve such an end," Gawen said gently. “I will find out who did this. Ye have my word."

  Vika offered him a shaky nod, but her expression was still grief stricken.

  "I'm sorry for
your loss," Lila said, and Vika blinked in surprise; he couldn't tell if it was from the strange sound of Lila's accent, or if she'd been so wrapped up in her grief that she'd forgotten Lila was there. "I know it's not my place to ask, but is there anything else you can remember? Was anything missing from his person when you found him?"

  Vika paled, and he shot a glare at Lila, but her gaze was fixed on Vika's face. Vika bit her lip, getting to her feet and disappearing into a back room before emerging once more, holding a faded bronze brooch.

  "He always wore two of these. One belonged tae his grandfather, the other his grandmother. The one that belonged tae his grandfather is missing. I told yer men about it, my laird. They assumed the person who murdered him took it. But I donnae understand why a thief would only take one. Or why they would murder him for it."

  At his side, Lila had gone still, her eyes trained on the brooch as Vika handed it to her.

  "If this will help ye find out what happened tae my Clinnen—” Vika began.

  “We can't take this from you,” Lila said. "Is there something else—”

  "I trust Laird MacRaild. I ken ye'll return it," Vika said, her eyes settling briefly on Gawen. The grief in her eyes dissipated, replaced by a flash of rage. "I want ye tae do what ye must tae find the person who did this."

  When they left moments later, Lila remained silent, her expression contemplative. It was only when they were on their horses riding back to the inn that Lila told him what she intended to do with the brooch.

  "I'm going to try several spells to see if I can learn anything about his murder," Lila said.

  Gawen frowned, wondering how a spell could help her glean anything about his death. But he held his tongue. Though he knew of the existence of magic, he'd never understand how it truly worked.

  Once they entered Lila's room back at the inn, he hovered by the closed door as she knelt on the floor, placing the brooch before her. She closed her eyes, murmuring the words of a spell beneath her breath. He couldn't help but feel transfixed as he watched her; he'd never seen a witch perform a spell. And Lila, as lovely as she was, looked even more so as her entire body seemed incandescent with the power of her magic.

  She repeated the words of the spell several times before looking up at him.

  “Nothing,” she muttered. “I felt absolutely nothing. This aingidh—she cloaked herself well.”

  Frustration marred her lovely features as she got to her feet.

  “Ye can try again,” he urged.

  “None of my spells may work," she said, expelling a sigh. “There's a dark witch in this time, killing the people of your clan—"

  “We'll stop her. Together," he insisted. "Ye havenae eaten, lass. Perhaps ye need tae take a meal and restore yer body before yer . . . magic comes tae ye."

  It was odd referring to “magic” as if it were a skill, akin to being a smith or a craftsman, but she looked mildly comforted by his words.

  "What do you know about Clinnen Moray?" she asked, as they sat down to a meal of roasted pork and bread the innkeeper, a portly, older man by the name of Bhreac, had prepared for them in a private chamber. "Was there any reason someone would murder him? You mentioned your men think it may have been over a land dispute?”

  “Clinnen never caused anyone trouble; he was a good man. I donnae agree with my men. As I mentioned before—land disputes are common. On my lands they've never come tae such a violent end."

  Lila considered this, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples.

  "Poor Vika," she said finally, opening her eyes. "You seem to know her well."

  Aye,” he said. “My—I was taught tae learn as much as I could about each and every person who dwells on my lands. For their fealty I protect them. ’Tis something I donnae take for granted. ’Tis something I intend tae pass down tae my sons.”

  She blinked at him, a startled look flickering across her face.

  “I didn’t realize you were married."

  “Nae yet,” he said. “Once I’ve done my duty and assisted ye, I intend tae marry and have heirs tae take over the lands of Clan MacRaild.”

  She cocked her head, studying him with an arched brow.

  “What?” he grumbled, unnerved by her stare.

  "You just described getting married and having children like it was a chore,” she said, her lips twitching with amusement.

  “’Tis my duty,” he insisted, a swell of defensiveness rising within him.

  “In my time, getting married and having children isn’t a duty,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “It’s something to be cherished. To look forward to.”

  Was there someone in her time waiting for her? He would be surprised if there wasn't someone, as bonnie as she was. A foreign emotion rippled through him, one he didn't like. He forced down a mouthful of bread.

  “Is there someone ye're betrothed tae? Or are ye already wed?”

  “No,” she said, and in spite of himself, relief swept over him. “I’ve been too wrapped up in time travel and getting stronger with my magic. But one day I want to marry and have a whole soccer team of children.”

  “Soccer?” he asked with a frown.

  “It's a—never mind,” she said, with a light chuckle. “I just want a large family. Children I can pass along this wonderful ability to. But first . . . I need to prove to myself—to my family and my coven—that I’m worthy of it.”

  "Why do ye think ye're nae worthy?"

  "If you met my sister—or any other member of my family—you'd understand. I'm by far the weakest. You just saw an example of my weakness," she said, shame filling her eyes.

  "Lila, I saw ye appear out of thin air. Ye just traveled through centuries. That tae me is nae the act of a weak witch."

  But Lila didn’t look convinced as she got to her feet. She moved over to the window, looking out at the darkening sky.

  “My sister would have found the dark witch by now," she said, envy flitting across her expression. “My parents, and the coven, would have been happy to send her here instead of me. I love my sister, but she's always been . . . more than me. More beautiful. More powerful."

  “She cannae be more beautiful than you,” he said without hesitation, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them.

  Lila looked at him in surprise, a lovely blush staining her cheeks. He stood and approached, holding her gaze. He couldn't stop himself from reaching out to gently stroke her cheek. Her skin felt like silk beneath his fingers, and he wondered with a surge of arousal what the rest of her body felt like.

  “Ye’re verrae bonnie, Lila,” he murmured. “Ye must ken that.”

  The moment between them held and stretched into a long, potent silence. His gaze dropped to her lips, the lips that had tempted him since he’d first laid eyes on her, and it was as if an invisible force propelled him forward, until he was reaching for her and claiming her mouth with his own.

  Her mouth opened up to his and he tugged her close, relishing in the feel of her curves against him. She kept up with the urgency of his kiss as his tongue delved into the sweetness of her mouth, probing its depths. He could feel her nipples straining against his tunic, and he let out a low groan as he kissed her, pulling her more firmly against him, his arousal evident by the strain of his cock against his kilt. He kissed her as if he could never—would never—get enough of her, as if they were the only two people that existed in this world, and for a precious few moments, they were. Nothing else existed outside of her body against his, her mouth yielding to the demand of his kiss.

  When he released her, they were both breathless. He swallowed hard, trying to form a coherent word, or at the very least an apology. But no words came; his heart still hammered against his chest, and desire still flooded every part of his body. One kiss, he thought in a daze, wasnae enough. Will never be enough. He took another step back, as if distance alone could ebb his desire for her.

  “I bid ye good night,” he whispered hastily, and turned to hurry out of the room, his body st
ill pulsating with unrequited desire.

  Chapter 7

  "The home where the murder of Daimh Singleir took place isnae far from Vika's," Gawen said, barely looking at her as they headed out to the stables.

  Lila nodded, trying not to let his distance affect her. It was just past first light the next morning, and she’d spent most of the previous night fantasizing about Gawen, a painful ache between her thighs, replaying their kiss over and over again in her mind. When she’d come down to the main room to meet him, her heart had hammered in nervous anticipation. But he’d only regarded her with stiff politeness, offering her a curt nod.

  When they reached the stables, he didn't help her onto her horse, instead allowing the young stable boy to assist her as he fixed his gaze anywhere but on her. She suppressed the wave of hurt that threatened to swallow her; it was as if the kiss they'd shared had never happened and they were polite strangers who'd only just met. But she shouldn’t be surprised, given how quickly he’d fled her room after kissing her.

  Maybe it's for the best, she told herself. The kiss, as searing and passionate as it was, shouldn’t have happened. She needed to focus on locating the dark witch.

  They rode in silence due west until they reached another thatch-roofed cottage adjacent to a small patch of empty farmland. There was no sign of life anywhere; the cottage and surrounding land looked abandoned. Lila gave Gawen a questioning look.

  “Daimh's murder devastated his family. They returned tae the Highlands. Tae the lands of his wife’s clan,” he said. He heaved a sigh, raking a hand through his hair. “I've nae been able tae get anyone tae settle here since. There are many who believe this land is cursed after what happened."

  Lila dismounted, unease settling over her as she looked around. While she didn't know if this place was cursed per se, there was a sense of pervading . . . darkness here. A sense of evil. Unable to stop the shudder that rippled through her, she tugged her cloak close around her body, though it wasn’t the brisk morning air that gave her the chill.