After a day spent traveling, and then dealing with stubborn cattle in fear of their life, Hugh was grateful for a hot bath before supper. He could have wished for Riona to attend him, but since he still had to maneuver to make that happen, he hadn’t been hopeful. He wasn’t even certain where she was, since he’d seen his mother and Maggie in the great hall when he’d arrived, but not Riona.
Still, he felt satisfied with his progress with the clan. He’d renewed ties with a dozen chieftains and gentlemen who’d known him only by his youthful reputation. He felt he’d strengthened their confidence, and had known they’d been impressed with Riona. For a woman who was still reluctant to marry him, she presented only a dignified, sweet countenance to the world.
Just not to him. But that was all right—he preferred her fiery and stubborn.
When he came downstairs for supper, the great hall was more crowded than normal, which surprised him. His mother and sister sat at the dais with Dermot and Alasdair, but Riona was still absent. He went to talk to his sister about that, and realized that his mother looked positively ashen.
“Mother, are ye well?” he asked, frowning. “Perhaps ye should retire and a tray could be brought up.”
She shook her head, bloodless lips pressed together. “I will be fine.”
Hugh glanced at Maggie, and though she gave a little shrug, he thought her gaze darted away from his a little faster than necessary.
“I’ve not seen Riona all afternoon.” He looked around. “Come to think of it, I’ve not seen Samuel either.”
It didn’t even occur to him that Riona might have run off. He no longer believed she could do it.
“Samuel accompanied Riona into the village,” Maggie said.
“She went to see Mrs. Ross?” he asked.
“I—I’m not certain.”
Again, she didn’t meet his eyes.
“Maggie, what is going on?”
But then the double doors at the rear of the great hall opened, and Riona and Samuel appeared. They weren’t alone. A young woman clutched Riona’s arm in fright, then lifted her chin as she moved farther into the hall. The woman was familiar, but he’d been gone a long time, and couldn’t quite place her.
His mother gasped and came to her feet as if she’d seen a ghost. But she turned away from the girl to grab Hugh’s arm. “I need to speak. I need to speak to everyone.”
As if people had suspected entertainment, heads turned toward the dais and conversations died to murmurs.
“Mother,” Hugh began.
“Nay, I must speak.”
With those words, her voice rang out, and the murmurs chilled to absolute silence. Riona, the woman, and Samuel froze on the far side of the hall and remained silent. Hugh saw Riona and Maggie exchange a confused glance, leading him to believe that even they didn’t know what his mother was up to.
“I need the people of my clan to hear and believe the truth,” Lady McCallum said in a loud voice.
Hugh tensed, ready to stop her and demand to hear in private what she planned before she said it. But Maggie grabbed his sleeve and shook her head.
“The late chief of the McCallums, my husband, was a cruel man. All of ye knew it, and many of ye suffered. There was little I could do.”
Hugh fisted his hands. People were just starting to forget what had happened, to trust him as the man he’d become. And his mother was bringing it all up again.
“But he’s dead now, and I can tell the truth without fear that the consequences will be visited upon my children. I took them away when they were young, I protected them, but I didn’t protect your children.”
Her voice broke, her head bowed, and Hugh saw a tear slide down Maggie’s cheek.
After a moment, Lady McCallum continued. “My husband liked young women and made . . . advances. It was an ugly, cruel thing. I didn’t know that he’d taken a fancy to Agnes McCallum until it was too late, and the girl was . . . with child.”
Hugh felt the same shock that was mirrored in the faces of his clansmen. Why had his mother, who’d kept this ugly secret all these years, decided to speak up? And then he noticed again the woman Riona had brought, and realized why he knew her—her sister had killed herself several years ago, a rare tragedy. Just seeing her had made his mother speak the truth, publicly, for the first time. Had the dead woman been his father’s victim as well? Had Riona discovered this and brought the sister here just to see what his mother would do?
And then Hugh saw Brendan standing at the back of the hall, eyes wide, mouth grim. Hugh didn’t know whether he should interrupt and protect the boy from whatever Lady McCallum would reveal, or let him hear the truth at last.
“I was at that man’s mercy,” his mother said in a quiet voice that everyone strained to hear. “I was able to escape, to get my children away, but not far enough. I could never speak out for fear of what he might do to me or the children, but now—he’s dead. My words are too little, too late, I know, but I needed the truth to be known. My husband fathered a bastard, young Brendan, and I hope ye’ll be kind to him, for it’s not his fault—nor is it the fault of my son, who begged to help Agnes by marrying her, but was forbidden.”
Lady McCallum sank back into her chair as if her legs would no longer support her. She covered her face with her hands, and Maggie leaned to speak to her. But Hugh could only see Brendan, who now pushed past Riona and ran from the great hall. Everyone was speaking at once—Alasdair was trying to ask him something; Dermot leaned close as if he needed to be a part of it.
Hugh put up both hands. “I can’t discuss this now. Brendan heard it all.”
He left the dais and pushed through the crowd. People tried to talk to him, but he politely put them off. He reached Riona at the great double doors, where twilight had descended over the mountains like a purple curtain.
“Did ye see where he went?” Hugh asked.
“He’s just reached the entrance to the lower courtyard,” Riona said.
He briefly cupped her cheek. “Ye’ve had a hand in some of this, I believe?”
She blushed and nodded, then searched his gaze with worried eyes.
He gave her a faint smile and left the hall.
Riona hugged herself as she watched Hugh take the stairs two at a time and run across the courtyard. She’d hoped to influence Lady McCallum into speaking up on behalf of her son, but had never imagined the woman would be so kind as to spare Fiona, the sister of the woman who’d killed herself, the pain of having to relive in public what had been done to her sister.
Riona turned to Samuel. “I’m going to be with Hugh in case he needs me. Would you help Fiona find a meal and a place to rest?”
Samuel eyed her with interest, but only nodded.
Riona ran out into the evening, the chill mountain air seeping up beneath her skirts. She hurried across the courtyard, focused on following Hugh. More than one clansman stared at her as she went by, but she ignored them. When she reached the stables, breathing fast from her near-run, she stood outside the open door and peered in. Hugh squatted beside little Hamish the terrier, rubbing the overlong hair on top of his bobbing head. Brendan stood with his back to Hugh, his body tense, his hands fisted at his sides.
“Ye must have questions for me, lad,” Hugh said in the no-nonsense voice of a commander to a valued soldier.
Brendan turned around at last. There were no tears, but his face was set in lines of new knowledge and old pain. Riona’s heart broke for the poor boy who was trying to be so brave.
Brendan took a deep breath. “My granny would never talk to me about my da. She said it only mattered how much my mum loved me, and how mum wanted me. But now, to hear she didn’t want what was done to her . . .” His voice broke as it trailed away. After a moment to compose himself, he continued, “I’d hoped it was someone like you, that maybe ye loved her but couldn’t be with a simple village girl.”
Hugh continued to pet the dog. “We can’t choose our parents, Brendan. And since we have the same father, I speak from experience.”
Brendan shuddered. “’Twas ugly and wrong, what he did to her.”
“It was. I tried to make it right for your mother. We didn’t love each other, but we were friends.”
“I bet it was you who made sure we have the nicest cottage in the village.”
Hugh didn’t say anything.
“I know my granny appreciates what ye tried to do. I do, too. I guess . . . ’tis all right that ye’re my brother, not my da.”
Hugh looked up at him and smiled, a smile that made Riona’s heart near burst with love for him, for this man who tried so hard to make up for everything his father had done, and never felt he could do enough.
“Would you and your granny like to move into the castle?” Hugh asked. “We’re brothers, after all.”
Brendan shrugged his bony shoulders. “Thank ye, but I like where we live, and the friends who didn’t care if I was your bastard or not. But can I still come here and work with the horses?”
Hugh rose to his feet and put a hand on his shoulder. “Of course. I look forward to teaching ye to hold more than a stick sword someday, too.”
“I’ve been practicing already,” Brendan said slyly.
Hugh laughed.
Riona crept away, leaving them in peace, knowing Hugh already possessed the strength and sensitivity he needed to deal with a confused boy.
WHEN Hugh returned to the great hall, he felt as if stones the size of the Grampian Mountains had been lifted from his shoulders. The truth of Brendan was out in the open, and he knew Riona had made that happen. After all this time, would his mother have come forward by herself, if not for Riona? Men who’d remained wary were now giving him respectful nods, but no one tried to stop him from returning to his meal.
He didn’t see Riona, but Maggie still sat on the dais, eating with hungry attention.
When she saw him, she smiled. “I don’t think I’ve eaten all day as I waited for this to happen.”
He eyed her sharply. “Ye knew this was going to happen?”
“Not ‘knew,’” she emphasized, “just knew.”
Hugh sat down and spoke softly. “Riona says she knew, too.”
“’Twas her idea.”
“She got Mother to speak publicly about what she considered a private shame?”
“Surprisingly, Mother didn’t need much prodding except the promise that Riona was going to find the sister of the girl who’d killed herself over Father’s behavior.”
“How did Riona find that out?”
Maggie’s expression turned pensive. “From a dream I had long ago—but I didn’t tell her that. I told her I heard rumors that Father was the reason this girl killed herself, and maybe the sister knew more.”
“Ye knew the secrets of that girl’s death?” Hugh asked gently. “Ye must have been young.”
“Fourteen. I dreamed she was wearing death clothes, but since I didn’t know who she was, I tried to forget about it.”
Hugh put a hand on hers. “I’m sorry, Maggie.”
She shrugged, and though she gave a wry smile, her voice trembled. “I tried not to pay attention to the things that happened in my dreams—I couldn’t change anything, and I didn’t want people to know what I was. They found the girl hanging the next morning.” And then her expression seemed to crumble in on itself. “I didn’t know it was because of our father.”
Hugh brought her bowed head to his shoulder, and she clung to him and trembled as she mastered herself. He saw more than one person looking their way with sympathy, saw Mrs. Wallace wipe a tear away before hurrying from the hall.
“He’s dead now, and his secrets are out in the light of day,” Hugh said. “He can’t hurt any of us again.”
Maggie lifted her head and stared at him with wet eyes. “Brendan?”
“He’s a braw lad. Shocked and sad, but he’ll be fine. I’m going to teach him to sword fight.”
Her smile trembled but grew wider. “Good. ’Tis rather strange to have a little brother. I hope he won’t mind us watching over him.”
Hugh nodded, then looked around. “Have ye seen Riona?”
“She went to console our mother in my place. She thought Mother might respond better to an outsider than her own daughter. And maybe she’s right.” Maggie sent him a secretive smile. “I like her, Hugh. How did ye get so lucky with a bride ye’d never even met?”
“She’s not my bride yet,” Hugh said, his own pleasure fading into worry.
Maggie touched his hand. “But she must love ye, Hugh. A woman doesn’t do all this for no reason. Maybe she doesn’t know that ye love her?”
He gave a start. “What?”
She laughed. “I’ve seen the way ye watch her. Your betrothal may be Father’s doing, but ye’re glad for it. Why don’t ye go talk to her? I’ll take her place with Mother and send Riona to you.”
“Ye’re a good sister.”
She shrugged. “I’ve spent more time with Mother than you have. Everything that’s happened these last couple days . . . well, it explains a lot of her behavior. She suffered being married to him.”
“I know. Tell her I’ll come see her in the morning. I have to be with Riona first.”
WHEN Riona returned to her room, only a few candles lit the gloom. She was grateful to be alone, relieved that at last she’d been able to do something here at Larig Castle to help Hugh. No one could look at him anymore and see a man who’d abandoned a pregnant woman. The evil that was his father was at last revealed to the light, and she hoped the scrutiny would release the last bad memories.
She poured herself a glass of wine and drank it standing before the fire. Glancing at Hugh’s door, she wondered if he was there, if he’d come to her. And then she heard a sound and turned swiftly, only to see Hugh lying in her box-bed, clothed in shirt and breeches rather than his plaid. And around his ankles, he’d tied the rope.
She burst out laughing, then covered her mouth.
He arched a brow. “I just can’t trust myself with ye, lass.”
When he reached a hand to her, she found herself running to the bed, and falling into his arms.
He hugged her hard for a moment, then said against the top of her head, “Maggie says ye made all that happen. Thank ye.”
Smiling, she kept her face buried against his shirt, breathing in the precious scent of him. “I had help from both Maggie and your mother. How is Brendan?”
“He’s glad to know the truth. I asked him to move here, but he’d rather have his old life.”
“I understand that.” With her ear on his chest, she listened to the solid, reliable thump of his heart. The wine had given her the courage to think of nothing beyond tonight.
“My Riona.”
His voice was low with yearning, and he lifted her face until their eyes met and their smiles died. When he kissed her, Riona felt every last resistance fade away into some distant corner of her mind. They kissed and tasted with a growing urgency that she didn’t question. Her hunger for him was insatiable, demanding. She came up on her knees over him and began to pull at the laces of her bodice, and then he was helping her. She’d never been undressed so swiftly in her life.
When she was standing, wearing only her chemise, she took the hem in her hands and met his suddenly narrowed eyes.
“Riona—”
She pulled it up and over her head, saw his indrawn breath as he took in her nudity by candlelight. He’d seen—or at least touched—her bare skin before, but there was something empowering about choosing to stand before him like this, unafraid.
And then he pulled off his own shirt and pulled her to him. The press of his hot skin along hers was wondrous. She clutched his shoulders and arched her back to be even closer to him. The hair on his chest teased her nipples, but that was nothing next to the feel of his hands sliding down to cup her backside. He separated her legs to straddle him where he sat on the edge of the bed, then arched her back so that he could take one breast into his mouth. She cried out and held him against her, unable to stop moving against his hips.
“Take me,” she whispered. “Hugh, please, don’t make me wait.”
Her fingers fumbled between them for the buttons on his breeches. He reached to help her, and when his erection was free, she briefly took it in her hand as he’d shown her how to do. Her thighs were spread before him, and she moved forward as if to put him inside her.
And then she found herself on her back, Hugh bracing his hands on either side of her head.
He stared hard into her eyes, his breath coming fast. “Ye’re sure ye want to do this.”
“We’re doing this,” she answered with no hesitation. “I just don’t know how best to—”
“Lift your knees,” he said between clenched teeth.
When she did, he settled between her thighs.
“The first time—” he began.
“—might hurt,” she finished. “I’ve been told. I don’t care. Do that part quickly.”
She felt the hard smoothness of him slide along her wet opening, and then he was deep inside her, filling her, the pain brief and fading compared to the incredible sensation of fullness and heat and dawning passion.
He kissed her then and she let her tongue invade his mouth as he was invading her body. For a long moment he didn’t move his hips, just kissed her and caressed her breasts until passion heated her skin. She needed more and she began to squirm beneath him to make it happen.
And then he withdrew and slid deep inside her again, and she gasped.
“Oh. Oh!”
He laughed against her mouth, and they began the ancient dance of lovemaking, surging together and coming apart. Desire bubbled up ever higher, overcoming her, heating her, until all she could do was focus on the friction of their bodies, the wetness of his mouth on hers, the feel of his callused palm kneading her breast.
The culmination swept over her in a flash of brilliant awareness, as pleasure seemed to infuse and sensitize all the way to her fingers and toes. He continued to thrust into her faster and faster, and her pleasure went on until it was almost too much. And then he groaned and found his own release, crushing her into the mattress, but oh, it was good to be beneath him, to accept all of him at last.
“I love ye, Riona,” he said quietly against her cheek.
And she burst into noisy tears.