True to the Highlander(31)

“Alethia was quite upset with you earlier today. Is it true you won’t allow her to carry a weapon of any kind?”

“Aye.”

“To what end?” She looked up at him, her head tilted in a way he knew well. She’d made up her mind, and he was in for a battle of wills.

“There is much you dinna know. There are things I have told no one.”

“You will tell me.”

He chuckled. “Aye, I will. I ask that you keep it to yourself until such time I am certain any danger has passed.” He waited until she nodded her agreement. “The fortune-teller who sent her to us is the same fortune-teller I saw as a youth. She told me ‘truth’ would save my life, and referred to truth as a ‘her.’ Aleth is Greek for truth. I am certain Alethia is the one the old woman referred to.”

“How can you be certain?”

“True called the gypsy by name, Madame Giselle. ’Tis the same woman.” Malcolm shook his head. “I canna allow her to put herself in harm’s way for my sake. If she is no’ armed, she will be less likely to jump into the fray should the need arise.”

“We’re calling her True now?”

Malcolm shrugged. “’Tis fitting.”

“Is this why you will no’ allow her outside the curtain wall?”

“There are men I trust looking after her within the confines of the bailey and keep.”

“What if harm should find its way to her within our walls? Hugh managed.”

“Aye, and he is gone. Until I know what the threat is, she will remain inside or within my sight. She will be safe.”

“What if saving your life has naught to do with ‘jumping into the fray,’ as you put it?” Lydia argued. “Alethia has already proven herself an able healer. The weaver’s son lives because of her. Mayhap you will fall ill, and she will nurse you back to health.”

The notion had not occurred to him. He groaned in helpless frustration and gripped the hilt of the dagger at his belt. An enemy he could face was one he could fight, but an illness? How could he keep Alethia safe from harm if he were laid low? “Then I shall have to see to it that I don’t fall ill.”

“Oh, Malcolm,” she chortled. “Have you told your father?”

“Told him what?”

“That you’ve chosen your bride.” She patted his arm.

“Nay, I…What makes you say such a thing?” Had he chosen? There was no denying the attraction, and he did find her pleasing in many ways. Still, she was obstinate and far too independent in her thinking for his tastes. What did he really know about her?

“We’ve all seen the way you look at her. The signs are unmistakable. You’re both twisted into knots around each other.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “The clan gossips tell me you canna keep yourself from kissing the lass whenever she’s within reach.” She chuckled at his chagrin.

“She has naught to bring to a union   between us. Father would never agree to the match.”

“Aye, but she’s the daughter of a king. ’Tis certain your father will object at first, but he’ll soon see the soundness in your decision. You have my blessing, such as it is. She’s a braw lass and a match for you in wits and will. She’ll give me fine, strong grandchildren.”

“Dinna speak of grandchildren just yet, Mother. I scarcely know the lass, and she may return to her own people ere long.”

“As you say.” Lydia folded her hands before her with a knowing smile lighting her features. “Elaine and I wish to take her to the village on the morrow. I would have your permission. If you deem it necessary, send a guard with us. We need to introduce her to our people. The sooner our clan comes to know her the better.”

It went against the grain, and his gut told him to keep her on the island. Yet his mother was right. “Aye. You may take her. I’ll send Robley, mayhap Galen as well. Come.” Malcolm took his mother’s arm. “Let us return to the hall.”




Alethia tightened her bow, tuned her violin and glanced at Liam and Robley, who accompanied her. The hall had grown warm and stuffy from the sheer press of bodies packed inside, and both of their brows were beaded with sweat. The two brothers were accomplished musicians able to follow her with ease. The three of them had not practiced together before tonight, yet they jammed along with the jigs and reels she played as if they’d known them all their lives. Maybe they had.

Beth caught her eye, and they exchanged a smile. Her friend had never been without a dance partner. Her hair, shiny and clean, fell around her shoulders in golden waves. Beth’s cheeks glowed with color, and she sparkled with happiness.