Page 20 of The Mad Highlander

20

T he thought of war was long gone from Iris’ mind. All she could think about as she walked slightly behind Cayden was how thick his forearm looked as he carried the large picnic basket. He had rolled up his shirt sleeves, and his muscles tightened as he took the weight of the basket.

They were alone, heading toward a secluded spot, and she could only think about his large arms lifting her into the air or doing other things. The warm feeling in the pit of her stomach became more liquid as she imagined what they would do when they got to the picnic area.

“How much longer until we get there?” Iris asked.

Cayden slowed a little so she could walk beside him—his strides were far longer than hers. “Are ye gettin’ tired?”

“Nay, I could walk all day with ye. I was only wonderin’.” She was not only wondering—Iris wanted to know, as she was longing to feel pleasure from him again. She was utterly convinced they would get to spend time off their feet.

“It’s nae too far.” Cayden looked at ease again.

Iris had no idea what was running through his mind, but she had seen him tense and relax a few times over the previous days. There was a good reason for that, but she liked to see him more comfortable as he was out on the castle grounds.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Iris admitted.

“Aye, it is. Me brother and me used to come play out here all the time when we were bairns.”

The words hung in the air as they walked, and Iris wanted to ask more about his childhood and what happened after that, but she knew better. She would let him tell her when he was ready. He didn’t add anything more about his brother.

“Afore I came to the castle, there were rumors that yer great hall was covered in blood,” Iris blurted.

“Covered in blood?”

“Aye.”

Cayden smirked a little. “Whose blood?”

“I dinnae really ken—the blood of yer enemies. There were a lot of stories like that. Tales of ye sittin’ on a throne made from the bones of yer enemies, how ye would chop a man’s head off for lookin’ at ye the wrong way, other stuff like that.” There were more stories, but she didn’t want to mention them.

“Now, a throne made from the bones of me enemies sounds interestin’, but it would start to smell if me great hall was covered in blood.” Cayden chuckled.

“Aye, I suppose it would.” Iris laughed along with him.

“I ken there are those stories out there,” the Laird admitted. “They call me the mad laird. I suppose there is some truth to everythin’”

Iris wanted to know what truth there was to it, and she almost asked. A crack to their right halted her words, and she immediately froze to the spot. She could smell again the breath of the man who had been atop her before the Laird had saved her.

Cayden dropped the picnic basket to the ground with a soft thud and whipped out his short sword. Once again, the muscles in his forearm tightened but for battle this time. He shifted his feet, taking up the fighting stance she remembered from when he had trained her.

Iris’ eyes darted to the thick foliage again when there was a rustling.

Cayden moved sideways to put himself between the threat and Iris.

“Get behind me,” he ordered,

Iris did as she was told and stood behind the Laird—not too close, so he could move and attack. They both stared at the spot where the noise had come from, and Cayden looked from left to right, checking the flanks for additional men.

The leaves before them opened, and a stag walked through. Cayden immediately lowered his sword and let out a breath. The stag stopped when it saw them, but it did not look surprised. It regarded them for a moment, its majesty amplified by the grooved white antlers on its head. It let out a satisfied breath through its nostrils and walked off the way they had come.

“He was beautiful,” Iris noted.

Cayden sheathed his short sword and placed a strong hand on Iris’ shoulder. “Aye, he was.”

The warmth of his hand penetrated her body, filling her up from the inside. He took back his hand and picked up the picnic basket.

“Come on, it’s nae far from here,” Cayden told her.

Iris followed him again, thinking about the stag. In many ways, Cayden reminded her of a stag. He stood tall, majestic, and strong. He might not have antlers, but she could see him wearing a crown of some sort. She also thought of his touch on her shoulder. She wanted his hand on a lot more than only his shoulder.

Not long after the interaction with the stag, they came to a flowing river. It stretched twelve feet wide, and the bank on the opposite side was as vibrant green as the one on this side. They followed the river upstream for a way until Cayden finally slowed. He looked back to make sure Iris was still with him, and then he stepped between two trees.

Iris followed him, and it felt like stepping into another world. The trees thinned out, and a small offshoot of the river led to a serene loch. The silver birch trees surrounding the loch painted the loch green with streaks of silver. The water was calm, mirroring everything. The trees did not go quite to the loch edge, but the verdant grass did.

Cayden walked to the edge of the lake, dropped the picnic basket to the grass, and stretched his arms toward the sky.

Iris could only admire his muscular form. He stretched up to the sky like one of the silver birch trees, except he was more pink than silver. His chest puffed out, and his body became triangular. Iris wanted to press her body to his back and wrap her arms around his elongated form.

She did not have time to.

The Laird pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the ground before kicking off his boots. Then, he dove head-first into the water. The Laird went below the surface, and Iris ran to the edge to see where he had gone. She became a little nervous when he didn’t come up straight away, but her fears were alleviated when the water broke in the middle of the small loch, and the Laird came up for air.

He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his wet hair. He looked back at the bank and smiled at Iris. She let out a gasping laugh to see him do such a thing. She did not expect him to dive into the water with no warning.

“Well, are ye comin’ in?” the Laird shouted from the middle of the loch.

“What? Nay way!” Iris replied. It was a warm day, but she didn’t like the idea of the cold water, even if it would take her closer to the Laird. Besides, she couldn’t remove her dress and dive in—it was not the same as removing a shirt.

“It helps soothe the body and mind,” Cayden claimed.

“I’m just fine where I am, thank ye very much. I will watch ye swim.”

The Laird smiled again as he trod water. He thrust himself to the side and moved through the water elegantly with angular strokes of his arms—one thick forearm after the other. Iris had not been entirely sure she would watch him the entire time he was swimming, but now that he was swimming, she could not take her eyes off him. Something told her she should have taken up the Laird’s offer to join him.

Maybe it would be refreshing.

The Laird moved across the loch a couple of times before swimming back toward Iris. He moved effortlessly in the water. Iris could not remember the last time she had swam, but she remembered it being enjoyable.

“Aye, that was braw,” Cayden announced when he got to the bank. The water was shallower near the edge, and he was able to stand up with the water only coming up to his waist. “Give me a hand up, will ye?”

Iris only realized her mistake when she offered him her hand, and he took it. As soon as Cayden had a hold of her hand, he pulled Iris toward him. Iris screamed out, but the scream was taken from her lips when she hit the cold water. She went below the surface, and all her worries and troubles were taken by the refreshing chill. All she could think about was the water.

Then, his strong arms took her, and she was lifted back above the surface. Iris almost cowered at the sound of thunder booming around them until she realized the Laird was laughing. She looked into his eyes, prepared to be annoyed at him, but she couldn’t be when he had such an impish smile on his face.

“Ye are a rogue, Cayden Hart!” she shouted.

“Didn’t I tell ye it would be refreshin’?” he asked.

“Aye, ye did, but ye dinnae just get to do whatever ye please with me.”

“Nay?” Cayden asked, the impish smile growing wider “I dinnae get to do whatever I please with ye?”

Iris bit her bottom lip. “Well, that depends on what ye will do to me.”

“Ye should come closer, so ye dinnae feel as much of the chill,” the Laird suggested. He didn’t wait for Iris to respond and pulled her tight into his embrace as he trod water for both of them. As soon as her body was against his, she felt some warmth on her front, even if the rest of her was chilled by the water.

“How does that feel?” Cayden asked.

“Aye, that does feel better,” Iris admitted. “Perhaps ye could have led with this being what ye had in mind and nae how refreshin’ the cold water is.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Cayden took a deep breath. “Just look around ye! Is it nae beautiful?”

Iris looked around, safely encompassed in Cayden’s arms. “Aye, it is bonny out here. Yer sister made a good recommendation.”

“Och, she likes to think that she found this place first as if me and me brother didnae come down here all the time when we were bairns. I let her think she found it first only because of how happy she was when she came back to the castle that day. She must only have been eleven.”

“She’s lucky to have ye,” Iris told him. “Ye protect her well.”

“Ye have to protect the ones who need it,” Cayden replied. “That’s the most important thing in the world.”

They stared into each other’s eyes as they floated on the loch, the sun beating down from above but doing far less to warm Iris than the Laird’s hard body against her. The cold didn’t feel as cold anymore.

“I ken ye have to go, and I ken it is to save me brother, and I appreciate that more than anything anyone has ever done for me, but I still wish ye didnae have to go. I wish ye could stay here with me.”

“Aye, I wish that, too,” Cayden admitted. “When I come back, we will have many more picnics together. We’ll explore the grounds and the countryside and enjoy each other’s company.”

“I would like that,” Iris agreed. She let out a small giggle.

“What are ye thinkin’ now?” Cayden asked, smiling at hearing her laugh.

“I was only thinkin’ about the stag. When I heard the rustlin’ in the trees, I thought someone had come to attack us. I had a panic in me breast. Thankfully, it was only the stag. Still, can ye imagine if we heard that noise now instead of back then? I think it might be funny as I ken me arms would be flappin’ around in the water like a bird about to drown.”

“That would be a sight to behold,” the Laird admitted. “I would be out of the water in an instant to take care of it.”

“I ken ye would. And even if I dinnae like ye goin’ after me brother, I ken ye will save him. I’ve never met another man like ye.”

Cayden’s blue eyes softened, becoming less bright and a little warmer. “I’ve never met a lass like ye,” he replied. “We were forced together, but if I had kenned ye afore that, I would choose ye over any other lass in the country.” There was a moment before Cayden added, “Course, it has always been near impossible to get any lass when most think ye are mad.”

Iris brought up her hand to Cayden’s cheek, holding it there. “Aye, but they only ken yer reputation and nae the man ye are. Ye are nae mad. Ye are strong and protective. Ye are nae what yer reputation suggests.”

Cayden pulled her toward him more. There was no gap between them, and Iris felt her breasts squashed against his chest. She gripped his back and pulled to squash herself even more against him.

His lips met hers, and he kissed her gently. He held his lips to hers, and the cold water was forgotten. Iris could not feel anything except his touch—she was numb to everything else. She brought one hand up to the back of his head, running her fingers through his wet hair. The kiss was not a passionate one, but it was far from emotionless.

Iris felt lost in the kiss. He was leaving her soon, and the kiss felt like a goodbye. It felt like the sort of kiss someone would give someone else if it were to be the last kiss they would share.

When they came apart, Iris thought she might cry.

“Ye dinnae really ken anything about me reputation, do ye?” Cayden asked. “The actual reasons they call me the mad laird. Not the blood in the hall or the bones of me enemies but the real reasons.”

He was scaring her now. She was convinced she knew who he was, but she was now doubting that. She didn’t know how to respond to him.

“Before I leave the castle, ye deserve to ken who I really am,” Cayden said.