Shona directed him toward a tree. “Lean here.”
He stumbled forward, grateful when his back was against the solid trunk.
He was always dizzy after shifting from his conriocht…and hungry. He could eat a boar.
Talorc gave him a sympathetic look he was sure no one else saw—and if they did, would not understand.
But Talorc and the Balmoral pack alpha had also been chosen through the sacred stone as protectors of their people.
Not all on the Chrechte council were aware of this fact, which only went to prove that despite their efforts to live as a single people, trust between them all was not assured.
Thus far, there was only complete disclosure between the lairds of the Sinclair, Balmoral and Donegal clans. The others on the council only knew the barest facts about the Éan’s return to the clans.
None of them knew about Prince Eirik’s dragon form or about the return of the Faolchú Chridhe to the Faol.
Ciara, the newly appointed celi di of the Faol, followed advice given to her through visions by an ancient celi di. She was insistent the time had not yet come to reveal the sacred stone’s return.
Unlike the Éan who only had one protector in a generation, the Faol could have many.
Right now, they had three.
The Éan’s prince was a fearsome beast in his dragon form, more than capable of taking on an entire pack of conriocht, though.
It was a good thing they were all allies.
And if Caelis had his way, the MacLeod clan would join that group, its pack submitting to the authority of the Chrechte council as the others did.
As much as any Highlander submitted to another.
Most important, the MacLeod Faol would begin training in the true ancient ways of the Chrechte. His brethren would learn, as he had, that there was no honor in killing Éan simply because they shifted into birds.
Many would resist the truth that they were not superior to other Chrechte or humanity, but Caelis had faith in his fellow wolves.
Some would be like Sean, but more would shift their thinking just as they shifted forms.
“Are you well?” Shona asked, her tone filled with worry.
Caelis allowed himself to secretly enjoy the concern in her demeanor and leaned more heavily against the tree. “Aye.”
“He’ll be hungry,” the Sinclair informed her, with a look of knowing for Caelis.
“Because of your transformation?” she asked.
“Aye.” His stomach gave an angry rumble. “It’s always worse after I shift back from conriocht.”
“Then let us get back to the keep.” She looked expectantly at Talorc.
The laird shook his head with a smile. “I’ve a feeling you’re going to be every bit as managing as Abigail.”
“Your wife seems all that is amiable to me.”
“Oh, aye. When she’s of a mind to be, there is no one more charming or pleasant.” The pride in Talorc’s voice was unmistakable.
“Women have to be strong in this world if we do not wish to be crushed under the plans of men.”
The laird grunted surprising agreement, though Caelis couldn’t deny Shona’s words, either. She’d paid the price for Uven’s machinations and then her own father’s plans. Whether the man thought his arrangements for her were for Shona’s benefit, they had caused her a great deal of pain.
They retrieved his sword and kilt on the way back to the keep, as well as the dead wolves. The Sinclair soldiers wrapped the bodies in MacLeod colors for transport, as was proper. There would be a joint funeral pyre lit that night on moonrise.
Sean’s carcass was left in the forest for the animals and carrion birds, his treachery bringing its own reward.
Audrey watched the man Laird Sinclair had just declared her husband before he would allow Vegar to accompany her abovestairs. Things had happened so fast, but then, they could between wolves.
The Faol understood the base drives in nature and didn’t fight those that were paramount, like that of mating.
Besides, Audrey preferred “wife” over lehman any day.
Vegar turned back from having dropped the bar on the door. Abigail had left some time ago, but she’d sent Ciara up with a healing tea, which Vegar had insisted on tasting before passing onto Audrey.
Thankfully, the laird’s adopted daughter, not to mention celi di to the Faol, had not appeared offended by Vegar’s precautions.
“She was not trying to poison me.”
Vegar’s brows drew together in confusion. “I did not say she was.”
“You insisted on tasting the tea before allowing me to drink it.”
“I wanted to make sure it was not too hot.”
“Oh.” That was…actually incredibly sweet.
And sweet was not a word she thought of in association with her mate.
“You are not as I expected from our first meeting.”
He grimaced. “I believe that is a good thing.”
She found herself smiling. “Yes, I do believe it is.”
“I am not a bad man,” he said, clearly offended.
Men could be so touchy. Her brother was more easily offended than either Shona or Audrey.
Deciding words were best left at present, Audrey took a sip of the honey-sweetened beverage made from what tasted like a combination of valerian root and chamomile. She would be asleep soon.
She wondered if Vegar realized what the tea was intended to do.
It would seem not.
He watched her, his hazel eyes dark with emotion she had never before welcomed in a man. Lust. She could not welcome it now, either. Audrey gripped the cup of hot drink with both her hands. She was not at all sure how he would respond to that knowledge.
Chapter 16
There is no greater gift than to be accepted by one’s mate.
—NIALL OF THE SINCLAIR
“You nearly challenged the pack alpha,” Audrey remarked, trying to understand Vegar’s irrational behavior and avoid her own contemplations.
His insistence on caring for her had led to a near challenge and a very hasty marriage.
“You are my mate. Mine to protect. Mine to care for.”
She could not deny his words. Despite the fact that Lady Sinclair had followed them to Vegar’s room and insisted on treating Audrey’s injuries, he had done most of the actual tending.
“Is that the way it is among the Éan?”
“Mates take care of one another, no matter their race of Chrechte.”
“My father never played nursemaid to my mother.”
Vegar shrugged. “He is English and human.”
“He was still her mate.” And though it was uncommon enough for a human to mate a Chrechte, when it happened, the bond was every bit as irresistible as it was between two of the Faol.
“Not a good one, by the sounds of it.”
“He had a wife,” Audrey admitted with shame even as she revised some of her own perceptions about the mating bond.
It inspired lust and an overwhelming need to procreate, but the tender touches and acts of kindness she’d witnessed between the laird and his lady were not a result of it. Emotion caused that behavior and attitude.
Would she experience that same emotion with Vegar?
“Not your mother.”
“Not my dam, no.”