Page 20 of It Began With A Kiss
Deidre caught up with her holding an empty basket. She was hoping to purchase vegetables for the evening meal for Cook. “Sorry for the delay, milady,” she said, slightly out of breath and with a frown across her brow. “I hate that crossing.”
“It takes some getting used tae even after all these years, but the narrowness of the path also keeps us safe,” Iona replied, picking up her dress whilst just missing a pile of manure.
A snort left the lady next to her. “Bah! It hardly protected us from the damn English who have taken over. Why my sire, God rest his soul, would have had a fit tae know the place he called home was no longer in Scottish hands.”
Iona came to an abrupt halt and turned to stare at her friend. “Ye cannae place blame on the new laird for obeying his king. ’Tis the way of the world. Lands change hands all the time,” she chided shaking her finger at Deidre.
For the briefest instant a flash of fury crossed the older woman’s face. “I can blame him! He is a traitor tae his Scottish ancestry, if what I have heard is true. If he had not come here, our men would not be buried in the cemetery and our true laird would as yet live. Ye remember him, Iona, do ye not?”
A gasp left Iona and she took a step back from the woman who had held her confidence for all the years she had been lady of the keep. “How dare ye say such a thing tae me! Do ye think I could forget my husband?”
Deidre started to walk, making Iona pick up her pace in order to continue their conversation. “I was just pondering the matter last eve, seeing as ye appear tae be very cozy with the new laird. Will there be a wedding soon? If so, some may also consider ye a traitor, too.”
A sob escaped Iona as if her very own words had been voiced aloud. She could walk no further, and she watched Deidre continue onward without her. She supposed she could have given her lady in waiting a scathing retort and told her to mind her place. However, was not this the very reason Iona was awake at night? Torn between her love of the clan and her budding feelings for Aiden? Or was it the kiss she and Aiden had shared but three nights ago. Whatever the cause, the cruelty of Deidre’s words made Iona wonder if she had lost the woman she considered her friend.
Iona had almost reached her cottage when the unmistakable sound of a whip, along with a man’s cry, resounded in the air. She picked up her skirts to run in the direction of the town square only to see Tavish raising his arm to let the whip fly again. She ran forward and foolishly stood between the huge man and his target. The leather whip barely missed her.
“What is the meaning of this?” she cried out with hands on her hips.
“Iona!” Aiden called out quickly stepping forward and taking her by the arm. “Are you daft, woman, to put yourself in danger like this?”
She wretched her arm from Aiden’s grasp. “Is this yer doing?” she bellowed pointing to Angus who moaned.
Aiden pulled her away to the edge of the crowd. “This is none of your concern,” he hissed.
“Ye tie up one of my clansmen and then spout nonsense that this is not my business?” she fumed. “Ye are wrong, Aiden, if ye think I willnae voice my opinion on the matter!”
“Then mayhap you should give me the benefit of the doubt and ask me privately what is going on before you meddle in the middle of what your own clansman felt was a just punishment!” Aiden replied before raking his hand through his hair. “’Twas not my idea to have the man whipped, Iona.”
“’Tis not right!” she said stomping her foot.
“Neither is helping Broden escape and keeping information on his whereabouts from me,” Aiden retorted, before turning his attention back to the happenings in the square. “Proceed, Tavish.”
Iona could not watch the rest of the proceedings and with a heavy heart, she continued to her cottage alone. The weight of her responsibilities to her son and clan consumed her entire being. She knew she could not help Angus but if what Aiden said was true, then the man held the answers as to where Broden was hiding. Once again, her heart was divided, and she could hardly begin to figure out where her loyalties should belong.
She opened the dwelling door and memories of when she had lived here with her parents filled her. She had been so young when they had perished of an illness Iona was lucky she did not catch herself. But she would not dwell on them now and instead begin to gather what she came for.
Inside the main bedroom, she went to a trunk sitting in the corner and lifted the lid. Her eyes misted when she espied Ewan’s shirts neatly folded, along with a signet ring that had belonged to his father. She held the silver in her palm. ’Twould be Gregor’s now, once he was old enough to wear it. The satchel she had left here still remained on her bed and she picked it up and began placing various items inside she had planned to take with her. Ewan’s things could remain here. She did not need his clothing as reminders of the time they had shared together.
She gazed toward the bed. Ewan’s sword stood up against the wall. She went over to stare at the weapon for several minutes before she wrapped her fingers around the hilt. She barely managed to lift the heavy blade and she quickly put it back up against the wall. There was no way she would be able to carry Ewan’s sword all the way back to the castle. ’Twould have to remain here until she could ask one of the clansmen to retrieve it for her. After all, ’twould also belong to Gregor one day.
Mayhap she should forget all that had transpired between her and the new laird and just remain here. She was so angry right now that such a thought held a fair amount of appeal. Yet, if she were to do so, then she would forget her original purpose and that was to unite the clan and Aiden’s men so peace could reign. She shook her head, took one last look at her cottage, and then opened the door to leave. She had just shut the wooden portal behind her when she was grasped in a fierce grip, pulled around the corner of the cottage, and thrust up against the wall.
“Ye been cozying up tae our enemy, Iona, my sweet,” Broden purred in her ear whilst his hand roamed over her body.
“Ye smell as though ye have been living with the pigs, Broden,” she hissed, whilst attempting to put some distance from him. She was not wrong that the man’s odor was horrendous and she almost gagged when his breath came near her mouth.
“Will ye not give me a taste of yer sweet lips, too?” His voice sounded strained, and Iona pushed at his chest, not that the man moved even an inch.
“Never!” she fumed angrily.
“I could take it from ye if I wished and no one would be the wiser,” he threatened.
“And all I have tae do is scream,” she warned and watched his eyes widened.
“Ye have not seen the last of me,” he snapped before letting her go and quickly disappearing.
“Mores the pity,” she murmured whilst picking up the satchel she had dropped.
