Chapter Six
“Lilias…” A whisper called to her in the dark.
Lilias blinked open her eyes, no longer in bed, but in the woods and standing outside that same dark, haunted croft that she’d visited as a child.
The taibhsear.
“Come inside, Lilias…” The whisper could have been the wind. An indistinguishable voice, neither threatening nor comforting.
She floated forward, reaching for the door handle, but the door opened up all on its own, disturbing the air around the hem of her skirt.
“Mama?” Lilias called, hoping it was her mother she was going to see and not the old crone with more damning visions of her future.
Once inside, the door shut behind her, filling her senses with that same herbal-must. A flint was struck, the candle lit, and the taibhsear sat by the hearth. This was her past all over again.
“Ye have met the laird of twilight,” the crone said, sounding pleased that her vision had come to pass.
Lilias’s eyes widened. Was she right all along? Was it he? “Laird MacDougall?”
Her mouth, black and fathomless opened as she spoke, her lips barely moving. “Aye, child. He is the one.”
Pain clutched her heart. She lowered her gaze and shook her head. “But I am betrothed to another.” Everything seemed so impossible. Happiness. A life with Dirk. Olafsson would bring war to the MacDougalls, killing anyone in his path.
“Nonsense. Dinna despair all of that.” The crone waved away those details. “He is the one. Dark of hair. Stormy of eye. Fiercer than the most wicked of gale storms. The laird of twilight. The man ye were meant to marry.”
“’Tis not possible.” Lilias pressed her fingertips to her temples trying to rub away the sudden ache. “He is taking me to wed another.”
The old woman’s eyes, dark as the inky black sky, locked on Lilias. Her bony hand shot forward, grasping Lilias’s arm. “Do ye have feelings for Dirk MacDougall? Have ye felt that spark? The pull?”
Lilias bit her lip thinking back to the moment she’d laid eyes on him at Dunstaffnage, the way he’d kissed her in the woods, how he’d stayed up with her half the night to see her comforted, and waking to find him gently placing her into bed.
“Aye,” she whispered.
The old crone nodded as if she already knew. “Then ye must make him see. Ye must marry him.”
Lilias swallowed hard, a knot having formed in her throat. “He is an honorable man. He will not let his duty slide, simply because I tell him it is our destiny.”
The taibhsear chuckled. “Nay, most likely not. Ye’ll have to find another way.”
“Tell me how.”
“That is for ye to determine.”
The croft and the woman who resided in it slowly evaporated, leaving Lilias for the moment in a black void, filled with questions, before she bolted upright in bed, soaked with perspiration.
The dream had been so vivid. Sweat beaded on her brow and along her spine. The sun shone in through the single window, dim and pink with dawn.
Below stairs, she could hear the men readying for the journey ahead. Boots thudded. Cups clinked. Outside, horses snorted and pawed the earth. Peeling back the thick wool blanket, she stretched out the kinks in her body and rose from the warmth of the saggy mattress to begin dressing. The fire in the small hearth was out and the floorboards were chilly beneath her stockinged feet.
Lady Fenella knocked a few moments later, asking if she needed assistance. They plaited each other’s hair, and then packed up their belongings to hand to a groom who waited in the corridor.
“They’ve a small meal to break our fast downstairs,” Lady Fenella said.
Lilias nodded, searching the corridor for signs of Dirk. Where was he? She knew he must have slept outside her room, and yet this morning, he was nowhere in sight.
In the dining area, porridge was ladled into bowls and served with goat’s milk. Lilias ate without tasting, searching out every person that came in for signs of Dirk. Still, he’d yet to make an appearance. She despised the anxious need to lay eyes on him, but was powerless to make it quit. She yearned to see him. To smile and say good morn. To thank him for helping her fall asleep. When they finished their meal and headed outside to mount their horses, she finally caught sight of him, issuing payment to the innkeeper and then giving orders to his men.
Dirk’s stricken gaze fell on hers. Torment etched the creases of his eyes and the line of his mouth. A day’s worth of beard shadowed his strong jaw, and dark circles shaded beneath his eyes. The laird had obviously not slept a wink. Despite that, he’d taken the time to put on a clean shirt and tie his long, black hair into a neat queue.
Lilias offered him a smile, wondering if all the feelings she’d had last night, the tender way he’d tucked her into bed, had only been exaggerated by the wine. When he didn’t return her smile, it was almost confirmed.
Stupid, lass. Why would she ever think that there could be something between them, that there was a way to stop the marriage between herself and Olafsson? What made her believe that a marriage to Dirk MacDougall was even possible? That she had so quickly developed feelings for him, and he her? Nay. Impossible. She was only being silly. Wishing for things that were so far beyond her grasp, it was almost laughable.
Even her dream of the seer seemed like a far-flung fantasy, a way for her mind to convince her she and Dirk were supposed to be together.
Lilias turned away, sauntering toward her mare and mounting. Her body was stiff from two days of riding and from fighting off her abductors, however unsuccessful. She shifted in the saddle trying to find comfort and failing miserably.
“Are ye well?” Lady Fenella asked. “I can tell Dirk ye need more time.”
Lilias shook away her misery and flashed a half-hearted smile. “I am well. And ye?”
Lady Fenella nodded, her eyes skating toward her son. She opened her mouth to say something then seemed to think better of it. Shaking her head, Fenella clucked her tongue and urged her mount into line with the rest of their caravan.
No matter what she told herself, or how much he avoided her through the day, Lilias’s lips burned with remembrance of his kiss, her body ached to be held by his, and she smiled at the things they’d shared last night. Despite his seeming rejection, she yearned for him.
Hours later, when dusk approached, they finally stopped for relief. She and Lady Fenella made their way into the woods, several guards surrounding them at a decent distance. When she was through her business, she spotted a berry bush. Her stomach growled. She’d barely been able to eat much of her porridge that morning, and the berries looked incredibly appetizing. Approaching the bush, she made a little basket with one fold of her gown and began plucking, hoping to surprise Fenella with the delicious treat.
Lilias popped a berry into her mouth and stared dazedly at the bush as she chewed. What was she going to do? Marrying Olafsson was out of the question. She could attempt to escape but likely, that would only be asking for trouble. She’d already been adducted once. And besides, she didn’t want to escape Dirk. She wanted… She wanted him.
The night before had been eye opening. Thrilling. After kissing him in the woods, reminiscing with him half the night, she simply couldn’t imagine being with another man. To experience the sea through his eyes, through her own, to explore a world that had always been a mystery to her… To love, to laugh. These were the things that she would have with Dirk. No one else. Even if she didn’t marry Olafsson.
“Lady Lilias!” The frantic call came from the man she’d been thinking about.
Dirk crashed through the woods, breaking through the bushes, and caught her with a mouth full of berries.
“Dirk,” she murmured around the mouthful, swiping at the juice dribbling from her lips with the back of her hand. Eyes as wide as coins, she asked, “What’s happened?”
“Ye’re all right,” he said, shoving aside prickly limbs and peering behind trees as though in search of more outlaws.
“Aye…?” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. He’d been worried about her. Exceedingly so. And she shouldn’t laugh, because his panic was endearing.
“I thought…” He ran a hand through his hair, then settled his hands on his slim hips, the muscles of his arms pressing tightly against his shirt. His shoulders sagged with relief. He stared at her a moment, cursed under his breath and in one large step, he had her in his arms, his lips pressed to his forehead.
Her laird of twilight.
Lilias breathed in his scent, not caring that he was crushing the berries in her makeshift skirt, only sinking against him feeling safe and cared for. She wrapped her arms around his middle, her hands splayed to the wide plains of his muscular back. Exhilarated and relieved all at once. She’d not been imagining the way he felt about her, or the way she felt about him.
’Twas real.
“This is wrong,” he ground out, his lips skimming softly over her brow.
She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his lips on her skin. This was her chance to tell him, to make sure he knew, understood they were meant for each other. She swallowed the berries. “Why, Dirk? Because through some ridiculous alliance I’ve been promised to another?”
“Aye, that is exactly why. Peace is not ridiculous. Neither is honor.”
Lilias gripped tightly to his shirt, gazing up at him. “I am not discounting peace, nor honor. But, what if that is not the future that was meant for us? What if Fate wanted something different? What if I want something different?”
Dirk searched her gaze, pain etched into the creases of his eyes and the downturned corners of his mouth. “What do ye want, my lady?”
Her mouth was suddenly dry as she gazed into his stormy eyes. Days ago, she’d been prepared to hate him for delivering her into the hands of a man she didn’t know, a marriage she didn’t want. And now… she never wanted to part from him.
“I want…” She licked her lips, her gaze falling to his mouth. That’s what she wanted. His kiss. His solid arms wrapped around her. The warm glow of safety and wonder she felt whenever he was near. The flutter in her belly to never cease.
“Dear God, lass, dinna…”
He must have been able to see in her eyes, just what she wanted.
“Take me back.” She clutched at the back of his shirt. “Dinna make me marry Olafsson. Please.”
Dirk sucked in his breath, his body shuddering, and his grip on her momentarily tightening. Where he held her burned. Hands over her shoulders, down her spine. Every part of her felt warm, and she wanted to sag against him, nuzzle into his chest. To beg if need be. Let me be yours.
“We’ve both a duty to our country.” The muscle in the side of his jaw ticked, and she could see the war between duty and desire full on his face. His hands slid from around her waist to her elbows.
“And what of our duty to ourselves?” Tears pricked her eyes. She was in danger of falling apart right then and there.
“Country must always come first.” He sounded strangled as he spoke, and he avoided her gaze, though his hands till gripped tightly to her elbows, not letting her go.
She clung to him tighter, praying he didn’t push her away. Angry tears fell then, and she looked to the ground, frustration mounting. “I didna agree to that.”
“Ye didna have to. ’Tis your fate.” His voice was so soft, so dejected, mirroring perfectly her sentiment.
She jerked her gaze up then, and Dirk’s frown deepened as he wiped at the tears on her face with the pads of his thumbs.
“That is the thing, Dirk, that is not my fate. Ye are.”
He didn’t answer, simply studied her face harder, waiting patiently for her to make herself clear. Lilias glided her hands from his back to his chest. She reached to slide a finger of his strong jaw, his stubble scraping against her fingertip.
“Remember that I told ye when I was young, my mother took me to a taibhsear, not only to find out about her dreams, but to reveal what my fate would be.”
He cleared his throat and asked hesitantly, his grip tightening marginally. “What did she say?”
Lilias tunneled back to the eerie croft in the woods. “She said I would marry a man who commands twilight. Dark of hair.” She wrapped a tendril of his hair around her finger, gave a little tug. “Stormy of the eyes.” Cupping his cheek, she stroked his brow. “And fiercer than the wickedest gale storm.” She gripped his upper arms and squeezed. “That is not Olafsson…”
“Ye’ve never met the man, it could be him.” His words were spoken gruffly, as though shards of metal filled his tongue.
She shook her head, her hand falling to where his heartbeat thumped. “’Tis ye, Dirk. Ye command me at twilight. And ye’re the fiercest of warriors I’ve ever known. Whenever I’m around ye I feel like I could do anything, that I could dive into the sea and explore its depths, that I could sing from the rooftops. When ye kissed me—”
“Dinna say it. ’Tis treason.”
“Is it?” She fisted his shirt in her hands. “I think not saying it is treason against my heart.” She stepped closer, her toes touching the tips of his boots. “Kiss me, Dirk. Kiss me like there’s no alliance.”
Dirk let out a low growl in his throat, his eyes filled with torment. She was certain he’d deny her. But then he did the one thing they both wanted, he crushed her to him and claimed her mouth. She parted her lips on a sigh, and his tongue swept through the opening to slide with velvet softness over hers. Arms wrapped around one another, they drank of each other. Frissons of pleasure curled around every inch of her skin, connecting her forever to Dirk MacDougall. He slid his mouth over hers again and again, consuming her.
Saints preserve her…. Lilias loved him. And that was the saddest thing of all, because even though he was kissing her, she knew he’d made his choice. And doing his duty to country, what he thought was honorable, meant he would soon deliver her into the hands of another.