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

  When they entered the castle’s courtyard and handed their horses to the stable boys, Gawen dismounted and gave her another curt nod, murmuring that he would speak to her later.

  He’s laird, and his people are in danger, she told herself. She needed to keep reminding herself that their emotionally intimate night together had changed nothing—they both had duties to tend to.

  Lila returned to her chamber, where Mysie helped her unpack and change out of her traveling gown. As soon as Mysie left, Lila moved to the Arsa grimoire and flipped through it, forcing thoughts of Gawen from her mind. She needed to find a more precise Locator spell, to see if she could isolate the witch’s presence if she was here at the castle.

  Forcing aside her traitorous thoughts of Gawen, she closed her eyes, and began to recite spells.

  * * *

  “My lady?”

  Lila stirred, blinking up at Mysie. She’d fallen asleep after putting away the grimoire, exhausted from performing so many spells in such a short space of time. She’d gone through dozens only to come up empty. Her parents had always told her and Avery that performing spells was mentally taxing, but Lila was desperate to determine if the dark witch was within the castle walls.

  “’Tis time for the feast, or shall I tell the laird ye’re tae weary from yer travels tae join?” Mysie asked.

  Lila sat up to look out the window, realizing that it was already growing dark.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head as she stood, approaching the gown Mysie had laid out for her. If the aingidh was still in the castle, she’d done a fine job of cloaking herself. And if she was here, what was her goal? To murder someone else? What if her target was Gawen himself?

  The fear that struck her at the thought momentarily rendered her still, and Mysie gave her a curious glance. If something happened to Gawen, she’d never forgive herself. Determination gripped her. As much as she’d wanted to only use magic, she needed to use other means of finding the dark witch. She would get to know the wives of the clan; gossip was a viable way of gleaning information. The coven historian had told her that gossip and rumor was a vital way that information spread in the time before cell phones and the internet.

  As Mysie washed and dressed her, Lila studied her. Servants had to have an ear for the comings and goings within the castle. She bit her lip; she needed to be careful with how she phrased her next questions.

  “Mysie, do you have any friends in the castle?” she asked, hoping that her tone sounded casual.

  Mysie paused from her task of helping Lila into her gown, studying her for such a long moment that Lila shifted beneath her gaze.

  “No, my lady,” Mysie said finally. “I keep tae myself and do my work. Why do ye ask?”

  “I’m just curious about what’s been going on here in the castle,” Lila said, trying to keep her tone light. “There was always something exciting happening in my household back in England. I’ve just been starved for gossip, I suppose.”

  Mysie gave her another disconcertingly long look before she finished helping her get dressed and leaving her with a polite nod.

  Lila headed down to the great hall, wondering why Mysie had given her such a long, probing look. You confused the poor girl, she chided herself. She’s just trying to do her job, and you’re digging for gossip.

  She entered the great hall, searching for Gawen. He was seated at the head table next to that blonde woman who’d glowered at her during her first feast here. She was leaning close to him, murmuring into his ear. The jealousy that seized Lila took her by surprise, and she swallowed hard.

  Gawen looked up, his eyes briefly meeting hers across the hall. Something unreadable flared in them before he gave her yet another brief, but curt, nod of acknowledgment. The blonde woman at his side gave her a look of cold triumph.

  Forcing her gaze away from them, she took a seat at the opposite end of the table. Whatever was going one between Gawen and the blonde was none of her business. But jealousy still gnawed at her gut as she focused on her meal of roasted venison and bread.

  “The lass at Laird MacRaild’s side is his former mistress, Achdara,” the woman at her side murmured.

  Lila looked up, startled. She hadn't noticed the person who sat beside her, an older woman with dark, graying hair and shrewd brown eyes that were trained intently on Lila.

  “She’s recently widowed; I’ve heard they will soon wed,” the woman continued.

  The jealousy in Lila's gut sharpened; it took great effort to keep her hand steady on her bread. She gave the woman a forced, polite smile.

  “Then I’m glad for him. I’m Lila,” she continued, putting down her bread. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

  “Inghean,” Inghean replied, looking slightly disappointed, and Lila realized that Inghean had hoped for a more dramatic reaction at the news about Achdara and Gawen. Was her attraction for Gawen so plain? “Wife of Baloch,” Inghean continued, gesturing toward a stout clan noble who stood at the opposite end of the hall, conversing with several other nobles.

  Lila eyed her. She could already tell that Inghean was a gossip, precisely what she was looking for.

  “I haven’t had the chance to make the acquaintances of many women here,” Lila said, hoping that Inghean would take the bait.

  “I’d be happy tae make yer acquaintance,” Inghean said, her eyes lighting up. “Ye should come tae my home on the morrow.”

  “I’d like that,” Lila said, her heart picking up its pace. She could only pray that Inghean had some valuable gossip she could use—especially about any mysterious newcomers to the castle.

  The musicians began to play, and the guests stood to dance. To her surprise, Gawen stood and approached her, to Achdara’s visible dismay.

  “Will ye honor me with a dance, my lady?” he asked.

  A rush of delight coursed through Lila as she took his hand and stood, aware of everyone’s curious eyes on them.

  He led her to the center of the hall. Lila’s pulse fluttered wildly at the base of her throat at the feel of Gawen’s hand on hers. He began to lead her in a dance that Lila was thankfully familiar with thanks to the coven historian and her former visit to this time; the Basse dance.

  “I’m sorry I’ve nae come tae see ye; I’ve been discussing what we’ve learned with my men. They’ve informed me that no one new has come tae the castle,” he murmured.

  “My spells still haven’t worked, so I’m going to use one of the oldest means of information sharing—gossip,” she said, with a subtle gesture toward Inghean, who was watching them with interest.

  “Inghean trades gossip like a greedy merchant," he said wryly. "I donnae ken how much of what she speaks is truth. Take care as tae what ye believe from her lips."

  “I will,” she promised, returning his amused smile as a searing awareness spiraled in her belly.

  “Ye dance well for a lass from a time nae yet come tae pass,” he observed as they moved together.

  “I’ve been to this time before. And the coven historian Madeline made certain I was familiar with dances of this time,” she returned with a smile.

  “How is dancing in yer time?” Gawen asked.

  “Scandalous,” Lila replied with a light chuckle. “You would have a heart attack if you saw how young people danced in my time.”

  “How so?” he asked, his voice dropping low, and the deep timbre of his voice caused a multitude of sparks to dance along her skin.

  “Dancers move closer together,” she said, her mouth going dry. “With more . . . sensuality.”

  “Aye?” he asked, his stunning green eyes locking with hers, his voice becoming even huskier.

  Everyone else in the great hall seemed to disappear around them as she took him in, the moment becoming suspended in time as her breath hitched in her throat, her eyes scouring his handsome face, aching for him to kiss her . . .

  But the music changed, and the couples moved into a circle formation; they were forced to move apart.

  Ga
wen blinked, stepping back from her with an abrupt nod. His curtain of politeness returned, and that fiery desire that had briefly flared to life between them was stamped out.

  Lila fought back her disappointment, dutifully dancing with other couples in circle formation before the music changed again, and she excused herself from the great hall, aware of Gawen’s eyes on her back as she left.

  Once out in the corridor, she took several deep breaths, willing her raging heartbeat to calm. She needed to quell her desire for Gawen; if what Inghean said about him and Achdara were true, it would only cause her heartache. And even if there were no Achdara, her time here was for one purpose only.

  With renewed resolve, she headed down the corridor, but froze at the feel of eyes on her. She whirled, scanning the dimly lit corridor. She was alone. Yet the feeling remained.

  Someone had been watching her.

  Chapter 12

  Over the course of the next fortnight, Lila made several visits to Inghean’s manor home, located not far from Carraig Castle. She learned that Inghean and her husband had several grown children who now lived on the mainland, and her husband spent much of his time at the castle with Gawen attending clan meetings and going on hunts while she tended to the household. Lila got the sense that Inghean was bored; her incorrigible gossip seemed to be the only bright spot filling up her days.

  At first, Inghean asked her many probing questions about where she was from and her family, which Lila answered with ease; she’d already practiced her backstory with Madeline and was prepared for most of her questions. After Inghean seemed to accept her answers, she launched into rumor mongering and gossip, mostly about other nobles’ wives and the affairs their husbands were carrying on.

  Lila would feign intrigue, trying to figure out how to glean the information she truly wanted to know without appearing suspicious. But whenever she asked a probing question about any newcomers to the castle or the lands, Inghean replied that she’d not noticed any new arrivals.

  In her chamber at the castle, she continued practicing her Locator spells, but it was as if a door had shut on whatever she’d sensed in the countryside; there was no sense of darkness, no awareness of the aingidh. She recalled the sensation she’d felt when leaving the great hall after her dance with Gawen, that unnerving knowledge that someone had been watching her. But she hadn’t sensed anyone following or watching her since that moment, and her magic remained frustratingly unresponsive, causing her old insecurities about her lack of power to come racing back to the surface.

  She wondered if her lingering, unrequited desire for Gawen was the reason her magic had seemingly dried up. After their dance during the feast, Gawen had returned to being a polite stranger; he hadn’t shared another dance with her since, and when he sent for her to inquire about the progress she was making in finding the dark witch, Aonghus was always in his study with him. She got the feeling he didn’t want to be alone with her, something that caused hurt to pierce her chest. She tried to tell herself that Gawen’s distance didn’t matter, but thoughts of him still occupied every corner of her mind.

  When Lila went to visit Inghean on a drizzling Tuesday afternoon, she’d decided that she was making no progress with the gossip angle. Inghean’s gossip was just that, gossip, and Lila ended up spending her entire visits fantasizing about Gawen. She was going to politely end her visits with Inghean and return her complete focus to her magic. Maybe there was some spell she hadn’t yet uncovered.

  But as soon as she sat down opposite Inghean, she barely got a word in edgewise as the older woman launched into her customary deluge of useless gossip.

  “—And then there’s that Coira. She’s kept tae herself for as long as I can recall and refuses tae remarry. ’Tis nae natural. There are many who say she's a witch—I’m inclined tae believe them."

  Lila, who usually half-paid attention to Inghean’s ramblings, froze at these words.

  "Did ye ken that Colin McDonald has taken yet another mistress?” Inghean continued, her entire focus on the piece of embroidery she was working on. “I ken that wives must turn a blind eye, but he doesnae even—”

  "I'm sorry," Lila interrupted with a polite smile. "Who is this woman you speak of? The one who refuses to remarry?"

  “Lady Coira Ardis, widow of Raibert Ardis,” Inghean said, her nose wrinkling at the very mention of the woman’s name. “She's lived on the edge of these lands for years. Her husband died some time ago, yet she's since turned down all offers tae remarry. She never comes tae the castle except tae attend the Yule feasts.”

  Lila leaned forward, feigning intrigue.

  “People say she's a witch? Why?"

  "Well, I donnae share the company of such a person,” Inghean said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, though they were the only two people in her drawing room. “But I hear she kens a great deal about stiuireadh, more so than anyone on the isle. She has tae be in her fiftieth year, yet she never seems tae age. And she’s been seen heading tae the forest where the old druids used tae worship.”

  Lila's heart hammered as she listened. Inghean didn’t know how close she was to describing an actual stiuireadh. But Siobhan would have told her if there was another stiuireadh on these lands in this time. Then again, if this stiuireadh wasn’t practicing magic, Siobhan wouldn’t be able to detect her presence here.

  Lila endured the rest of the visit, eager to get back to the castle to ask Gawen about this Coira Ardis.

  When she returned to the castle, she immediately sought him out. For the first time in days, he was alone in his study, and a heated awareness flared to life at the sight of him. He was leaning against a table, studying a piece of parchment, looking especially dashing in his white tunic and forest-green belted plaid kilt. When she entered, his green eyes took her in, and she felt tongue tied. For the millionth time, she inwardly railed at the unfairness of Gawen possessing such masculine beauty.

  “Lila?” he asked, arching a brow, the sexy rumble of his voice pulling her out of her stupor.

  “Coira Ardis,” she finally managed to say. “What do you know about her?”

  “She’s a widow who's lived on these lands for years,” Gawen replied with a frown. And then his frown disappeared, an understanding forming in his eyes. “And aye, I’ve heard rumors about her being a witch.”

  “Is she?” Lila pressed.

  “Coira?” Gawen returned with a short laugh. “No. She’s just a widow who likes tae keep tae herself. Inghean thinks that anyone who doesnae come tae regular feasts is a witch.”

  Lila’s heart sank. She bit her lip and gave him a grudging nod.

  “If it helps, I can take ye tae see her,” Gawen continued, his expression softening. “Perhaps I’m wrong and she is indeed a stiuireadh.”

  Delight raced through her veins, and she realized it wasn’t at the prospect of visiting this Coira; it was at the thought of spending time with Gawen.

  “I take it yer spells havenae been able tae locate the aingidh?” Gawen asked.

  There was no judgment in his tone, but Lila still felt shame coil around her.

  “No,” she said. “But I’ll keep trying. There—there’s no need for you to accompany me tomorrow. I can visit her on my own.”

  “She’ll be more receptive tae any questions ye have if I’m with ye. She doesnae take kindly tae strangers,” Gawen replied. “We can ride out after I have my morning counsel with my nobles on the morrow.”

  “Thank you,” she said, starting to leave, but he strode across the room to approach her.

  “How—how have ye been faring?” he asked.

  “Inghean hasn’t proven as useful as I’d hoped,” she replied. “And my magic is still—”

  “I’m nae asking about yer magic or yer search for the aingidh. I want tae ken how ye’re faring. Here in the castle. In—this time,” Gawen pressed, his eyes searching hers.

  Lila looked at him in surprise; he’d been nothing but distantly polite to her and hadn’t seemed at all conc
erned with how she was faring on a personal level. He seemed to read her thoughts, giving her an apologetic smile.

  “I apologize for nae asking ye before.”

  “You have duties to tend to. I understand,” Lila said. “I’ve been well. I’ve been to this time before, so it hasn’t been too difficult to adjust.”

  She’d thought she would miss the modern conveniences of her own time while she was here, but it had been surprisingly easy to adjust to this time. It didn’t hurt that she got to live in a castle as an honored guest of the laird's with her own dedicated maid, which was far better than living in her tiny studio apartment back in her time.

  “I’m glad tae hear,” he said, his eyes still trained intently on her face, and she realized how close they stood together, and that they were completely alone. Heated awareness shifted into desire. She needed to leave, but her body was rooted to the spot, unable to take her eyes off his handsome features, admiring the way the firelight caused his coppery hair to glisten, the way his thick lashes framed those startlingly green eyes of his. He was even more beautiful up close.

  “Lila,” he rasped, his hands reaching out to frame her face. Her heart was battering against her rib cage as he pulled her closer, until his lips were on hers, and he was exploring her mouth with a soft, sexy growl.

  His hands wrapped around her waist, yanking her against his muscular frame as her mouth opened beneath his. She wound her arms around his neck as her nipples brushed against his hard chest; she could feel his hard arousal against her belly. He tasted of ale and smelled of honey and sandalwood; she pressed herself closer as he continued to claim her mouth with his, needing—aching—for more of him, for this glorious buzz of desire to never fade.

  “Ah—my laird.”

  Aonghus’s voice behind them was like a bucket of cold water splashing onto them both, and they abruptly broke apart. Lila’s face flamed as she gave Aonghus a hasty nod before practically running out of Gawen’s study, her body still humming with desire.