“You, too, are great, Keeley McCabe,” he whispered. “My clan is better for having you.”
She leaned into his kiss, tipping her forehead to his. She closed her eyes, savoring the sweet contact. She breathed, allowing him to wash away the fatigue and grief.
Then she pulled away and steeled herself against the pain in her heart. “I must go now. I must see to Mairin and the new babe’s needs.”
Alaric stroked her hair away from her cheek and then cupped the side of her face in his palm. “I love you. Remember it always.”
She covered his hand with hers and smiled achingly up at him. “Aye, I will.”
Slowly, he pulled away and then stepped back so she could walk by him back into the keep. She went without looking back but felt the wetness on her cheeks before she mounted the first step.
CHAPTER 32
Laird McCabe stood atop the stairs to the courtyard, the tiny bundle of his daughter cradled in his massive arms.
“My daughter!” he proclaimed and held her high.
The gathered clan roared their approval. Swords thrust upward, shields banged, and a resounding cheer echoed over the land.
Ewan cradled her in his arms again, and his expression was so tender and proud that Keeley could barely swallow around the knot in her throat. Maddie smiled broadly beside Keeley and reached over to squeeze Keeley’s hand.
“ ’Tis a wondrous day for the McCabe clan.”
The older woman wiped at her eyes and sniffed noisily even as she offered a loud cheer of her own.
Warmth traveled through Keeley as she realized that the clan’s joy was her own. She was a part of the McCabe clan now. Their triumph was her triumph.
Surely there wasn’t a better feeling. Acceptance. She belonged.
As the cheers died and Ewan returned inside with the babe, the clansmen went back to their duties. Maddie excused herself to the kitchens, and Keeley returned indoors, her intent to check on Mairin’s well-being.
She hummed to herself as she mounted the stairs. The hallway was empty, a surprise since Gannon had become a permanent fixture outside the chambers. It seemed he rotated his duty. It was a great comfort to Keeley. She’d grown used to the gruff warrior and liked his company.
She hadn’t taken more than two steps when a hand snaked out, grabbed her wrist, and she found herself yanked into one of the bedchambers.
Before she could cry out, defend herself, or even process what had happened, her lips were ravaged in a brutal kiss. The chamber door slammed behind her, and her back hit the closed door with enough force to knock the breath from her.
Through her muddled senses she recognized one thing: It was happening again, only this time there was no effort to woo a young, inexperienced girl. Laird McDonald had no care whether he hurt her or not or whether she was willing.
As soon as his lips left her, she opened her mouth to scream only to have his hand clamp over it with bruising force.
“I could not believe my eyes when I saw you here,” he panted. “ ’Twas fate. I always knew you’d belong to me. I’ve waited years for this moment, Keeley. Years. You’ll not say me nay this time.”
Keeley stared in horror at the older laird. He was daft. Mad! He would attack her inside the McCabe keep?
His free hand went to her breast and squeezed painfully. He loosened the hand over her mouth but before she could gather breath to scream, his mouth covered hers again.
With all her might, she jerked her knee into his groin and when he dropped his hands down to clutch himself in agony, she shoved hard. He stumbled back and went down on his arse.
She turned to fumble with the door, desperate to get into the hall. It was locked! She yelled hoarsely just as the laird grabbed her by the hair and threw her across the room.
She landed in a heap on the floor, all the breath knocked painfully from her chest. He stood over her, his eyes glittering with rage. Spittle frothed on his lips and his cheeks were red with exertion.
“You little bitch. You’ll pay for your defiance.”
Her eyes narrowed in fury and she flew at him. She hit him hard and he staggered back, shock reflected on his features. He actually held up his arms to ward her off, but her rage propelled her on.
The slovenly little bastard sickened her. For years she’d viewed him as some demon from hell. Larger than life. Evil. Powerful. She’d lived in fear of him, building him up in her mind to be something he wasn’t.
“You’re a pathetic worm who preys on children,” she hissed.
She balled her fist and swung. Her knuckles exploded in pain as she connected with his nose. Blood splattered and the laird’s head jerked back, his hand flying to his face.
He bellowed with rage and struck out at her. She ducked but not in time to keep him from striking her cheek. She reeled and tripped over the bed.