Only a highlander will d.., p.14
Only a Highlander Will Do, page 14
Orrick frowned. “You turned them into spies?”
“Informants,” Alastair said. “While they cannot help Rowena escape without great danger to themselves, James and Agnes MacDonald can at least see that Rowena is unharmed until we can reach her.”
“Can we trust them?” Tormod asked.
“Rowena could be their daughter-in-law someday. They are highly motivated to keep her unharmed for the sake of their son.”
Tormod sighed as the immediate need to charge went out of him. “I trust you, Alastair. What’s your plan?”
Alastair took a deep breath, uncrossed his ankles, and stood. “My plan was to stop the isles from going to war with themselves and instead focus on the larger political issue that we face with England, but all that must wait now. It’s time to gather the clan support we have and use it in a show of force against the MacDonalds. Until they give up on their vengeance with us, and we stop our revenge on them, we have no hope of gaining our independence from England.”
Tormod allowed himself a glimmer of a smile despite their desperate situation. Alastair could be very diplomatic when he wanted to be, yet he also knew when it was time to fight back. “Which clans will fight with us?”
“I’ve sent word to the MacKinnons, the Nicolsons, and the MacLeans of Coll, though I doubt the latter can arrive here on the morrow. We may have to set out for Monkstadt without them.”
“We go to war then,” Orrick said, his face a tight white mask.
Alastair nodded. “We go to free our sister. If Alex MacDonald will not release her, then we go into battle.”
The proclamation of war did not fill Tormod with the usual exhilaration this time. Instead, a heaviness invaded his limbs. On the morrow he would once again face death. In the past, that was something he had anticipated, even laughed at. But now he had a reason to live, a reason to return from the battlefield.
Even if that reason lay abovestairs fighting for her own life.
*
The next morning Tormod stretched to relieve the tension in his back from sitting at Fiona’s bedside all through the night. Just as he returned to sit beside Fiona, the door of the bedchamber opened. Alastair stood in the doorframe. His gaze moved over Fiona’s body lying motionless on the bed. “Has she woken up yet?”
“Nay. The blow she took to her head must have been worse than we initially thought.” Tormod inhaled sharply and turned back to his wife and the livid bruises marking Fiona’s neck. She looked like a small, helpless child who had been mercilessly beaten. Sudden rage flared in his chest as he gently tucked the linen sheet closer about her abused throat. “I’ve done everything I can, but it’s been an entire day and she’s not much better. Do you think I killed her?”
Alastair wearily rubbed the back of his neck. “You didn’t do this to her. Alex MacDonald did.”
Tormod had never been able to bear cruelty to the helpless. When he went into battle, he fought men who were able to defend themselves, and if he found an option besides killing his opponent to stop the fighting, he usually took it. Despite his desire to save lives where he could, there was a dark side of him as well. He had tried to put aside his coarser tendencies for Fiona. He’d felt happier with her at his side than he had in a very long while. And still it wasn’t enough. “She ran away from me.” His gaze lifted to meet Alastair’s. “So aye, it is my fault she is hurt, and it will be my fault if she dies. It is also my fault that Alex MacDonald now has Rowena in his grasp.”
“Row . . . ena . . . Where . . . is she?” Fiona’s voice was a mere breath of sound. Her eyes were open, shining wildly in her white face.
“You’re safe. Rowena will be as well.” Tormod pulled Fiona into his arms, rocking her gently. God, she was no more substantial than a thistle fluff. He’d managed to get a little water down her throat but not a bite of food.
Tears fell down her cheeks. “Will be? Alex captured Rowena?”
Tormod framed Fiona’s face with his palms and looked straight into her eyes. “Rowena will be back with us soon. Until then, she’s a fighter just like her brothers.” His palms gently stroked the wetness from Fiona’s cheeks.
“This is . . . my fault. I should not have left . . . Dunvegan. My home was destroyed anyway. My people were injured.”
“Is that what your father whispered in your ear? That he would destroy Ulster Castle?” He had to swallow to ease the tightness in his throat. She hadn’t left because of him?
She looked away, pressing her lips together as if trying to decide whether to tell him something or not. Finally, she turned back to him and he saw pain reflected in her eyes. “Alex and my father . . . they wanted me to kill you. If I did not . . .” She drew a deep breath before continuing. “They would destroy everything precious to me.”
His grip tightened about her. She felt so fragile in his arms, but he knew she was not. Since the moment they’d met in the forest, she’d shown more courage and strength than many of the fiercest warriors he’d challenged in battle. “You left all alone to try to prevent that from happening.”
“I left so I wouldn’t have to kill you.”
“Always protecting others, aren’t you?” He moved his hand up to stroke her hair with extreme gentleness and a possessiveness that felt natural to him. He didn’t know when that shift had taken place, but his emotions regarding her were more intense than they had ever been for anyone else in his life. “Perhaps it is time for someone to protect you.”
She sighed and nestled more deeply into his arms. “And what about Rowena?”
“We are riding out to go get her later today. We’ve asked three other clans to join us for this battle. We are waiting for them to arrive.”
She stiffened, no longer at ease. “You’re going to war?”
Tormod closed his eyes. Lord, he was so tired. He hadn’t slept at all last night as he waited for some sign of improvement from Fiona. Fortunately, his prayers had been answered. He opened his eyes, straightened, then eased Fiona back onto the bed. He could focus on other things now that he knew she would be well, eventually. “There is no other choice.”
Fiona’s brow wrinkled in a frown. “Your mother says there is always another choice.”
Tormod’s gaze met his brother’s. “My mother knows many things. But none of the MacLeod children are going to take advice about war from a ghost.”
“If I had listened to her, I wouldn’t be in this bed and Rowena would still be here.”
When Gwendolyn appeared in the doorway, Alastair moved to her side. “Sorry to intrude,” she said. “I just wanted to let you know that clan Nicolson has arrived. The laird would like to speak with both of you to strategise.”
Tormod leaned forward and placed his lips tenderly over the bruises that marred her neck, and then briefly upon her lips, trying desperately not to show her the impending sense of doom that had settled inside him. “Rest. Regain your strength. I’ll check back on you before I leave.” Without looking back, he left the room, pausing at the door only briefly to ask Gwendolyn to keep watch over Fiona, then he was gone.
*
Tormod made his way to the solar, hoping to find Alastair, but the room was empty. He eyed a chair by the hearth, pondering if he should continue his search or simply wait for Alastair to appear. Making his way to the chair, he decided to wait. His brother would return any moment, he was certain.
In the meanwhile, he would sit here and allow himself a few moments of rest. His eyelids drifted closed. Behind his eyelids he saw a bright burst of orange and yellow. Probably the flames in the fire dancing as they consumed the logs someone else had tossed inside. Even as the colours of the fire reached out to Tormod, he shivered and the edges of his mind faded as he fell into a dream.
The smell of burning wood filled his senses, and the pop and hiss of the fire came to his ears. The brightness before him intensified and yet separated until he could see both the night sky filled with a thousand stars and a roaring bonfire like the one they usually built to celebrate Samhain. In his mind’s eye an image appeared. Nay, two. The blurred edges of the figures lessened and Tormod could see his brothers, Alastair and Orrick, standing before a burning pyre.
The savoury smell of roasted venison merged with the sweet scent of apples and the heady aroma of freshly made ale. All around him people danced as Callum played a lively tune on his mandolin.
Fiona appeared suddenly, standing before the fire dressed in all black. Why would she be wearing widow’s weeds when he was right there beside her? Except that he wasn’t. His body was stretched out in front of the fire on the grass. A bright red stain covered his white muslin shirt, and a dagger still protruded from his chest.
Tormod came awake with a start. The images of the vision faded from his mind, but not the tension it had created. The sound of his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Had his dream foretold his own death at the hands of the MacDonalds? Or was he so tired that fanciful imaginings had started to intrude from his thoughts to his dreams?
“Tormod?”
At the sound of his name he turned to see Alastair standing beside him, looking down with grave concern etched on his brow.
“I was waiting for you to return. I need to talk to you about—”
“You look terrible, Brother. When was the last time you slept?”
Tormod straightened in the chair and pushed his hand through his hair. “A few moments ago.”
“Whatever happened when you closed your eyes, it wasn’t sleeping. You cried out like I haven’t heard since you were a child.”
“I died in my dream.”
The furrow in Alastair’s brow eased. “All men dream of dying before a battle.”
“Not me,” Tormod said. “Not until today.”
Alastair’s lips curled up in smile. “That is because until a few days ago, you didn’t have a reason to live. Marriage changes a man.”
A heaviness settled in Tormod’s stomach. Was that all this overwhelming sense of doom was? Just his fears playing themselves out in his dreams? “I hope you are right. And I certainly expect a funeral with far more fanfare than burning my body in the Samhain bonfire.”
Alastair laughed. “We’ll have a wake like no other when you are old and grey, and after you’ve sired a dozen sons and daughters.”
The sound of his brother’s voice warmed Tormod’s spirit. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“On my honour.” Alastair placed his hand over his heart. “But only if you go abovestairs and get some real sleep.”
Tormod stood, intending to leave. “I must go back and check on Fiona.”
Alastair stayed him with a hand. “Gwendolyn is with Fiona. You rest. Now. That’s an order from your laird.”
Tormod knew when he was defeated, so instead of arguing, he nodded and headed for the closest bed. Hopefully, he would find slumber this time instead of dreams that made him doubt his own longevity.
Chapter Fifteen
Fiona fought her way through the darkness once more and opened her eyes. The flesh at her neck felt raw and the rest of her body felt bruised. But she was comfortable, lying in a warm bed back at Dunvegan.
Then her earlier conversation with Tormod came back to her. He was going to war with the MacDonalds. Fiona tried to sit up but found she had little strength to do so.
“You’re awake.” It was Gwendolyn’s voice, low and melodious. She came to sit at the bedside and gazed down at Fiona with concern. “We’ve all been so worried about you. Can I help you sit and perhaps get you to take some broth to help you rebuild your strength?”
Fiona tried to nod, but that sent a jolt of pain through her throat, and simply said “aye” instead.
Gwendolyn tucked several pillows behind Fiona’s back until she was sitting upright enough to take the teacup her friend offered. The rich aroma of chicken broth woke up Fiona’s senses and she brought the cup to her lips to sip the heated liquid.
Fiona winced. Though the broth was not hot, it felt like it burned all the way down her throat. But once she got past the initial pain, the remainder of the cup went down much easier. When her thoughts were clearer, she sat forward under her own power. “Where are Mrs Bagley, Higgins, and Ginny? They didn’t . . . They aren’t . . .”
Gwendolyn smiled. “They are all recovering well. Mrs Bagley has been helping Mrs Honey in the kitchen. The two of them are like sisters they never knew they had. In fact, the two of them came up with a new assortment of spices and herbs with which to flavour this broth, hoping it would help you regain your strength and ease your pain.”
“It worked.” She did feel less pain now. “And Higgins? Ginny?”
“Your Higgins had a broken leg. Tormod sent for the barber in Kilmuir. The barber set the bone and your steward is doing much better though he must remain in bed for a while until the bone sets.” Gwendolyn offered a reassuring smile. “Ginny was hit on the head by a falling piece of stone. She is working through her nausea and dizziness, but is expected to make a full recovery.”
Fiona breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m so grateful for all the MacLeods have done to help them.”
Gwendolyn’s expression turned solemn. “You, Mrs Bagley, Higgins, and Ginny are all MacLeods now. We will do anything for family.”
Though Fiona had been trying not to think about him, her thoughts instantly returned to her father. “Did anyone find my father after the battle at Ulster?”
“Not yet. There are a few warriors still there who are looking through the rubble at Tormod’s request.”
“Alex MacDonald said he killed him.”
Gwendolyn frowned. “The MacDonalds say a lot of things that aren’t necessarily true. What does your gut tell you? Is he alive or dead?”
Fiona pursed her lips. She and her father had been so disconnected for years, she wondered if she could feel anything but pain when thinking of the man. Nothing came to her. No feelings either way. “I honestly don’t know.”
Gwendolyn gently touched Fiona’s hand. “We will find the truth eventually. In the meanwhile, you must stop worrying. It will only set back your recovery. Focus on getting well. We saw the MacKinnon clan approaching a short time ago. They will be here within the hour.” She tucked a strand of red hair behind Fiona’s ear. “When you feel strong enough to take a bath, let me know and I will have water brought up for you. Until then, you should try to get some sleep.”
Fiona nodded and settled into the pillows at her back as Gwendolyn stood to leave. “Thank you, Gwendolyn, for everything.”
“You are welcome. Now rest.” She moved to the door and after a final look back, left Fiona alone.
Taking Gwendolyn’s advice, Fiona closed her eyes, but all she could see was Alex MacDonald’s hard, cruel eyes staring back at her. There was no kindness in the dark depths, only a desperate need for revenge. The man was determined to do anything he could to get back at the MacLeods. What had the vile man done to Rowena since he’d had her in his grasp?
Fiona bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. It was her actions that had led to Rowena’s capture. Was it up to her to fix the situation? If so, how? She was but one woman. She had no fairy magic on her side.
Fiona paused in thought. Or did she?
Her gaze shifted to her feet hidden below the covers. She tossed the coverlet back and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw whoever had changed her from her gown earlier had left her stockings on. The pebble from the Fairy Cave and the Grey Lady’s strand of hair were still safely tucked inside.
No sooner had the thought occurred to Fiona than an icy chill whispered through her bedchamber, followed by a frothy grey mist that moved across the floorboards before gathering into the visible shape of the Grey Lady. I am glad you came back to Dunvegan, to Tormod.
Fiona heard the words in her mind as the mist surrounding the spectre lessened and her image became more solid. “I wish I’d never been forced to leave. I wish Rowena was still here with all of you and safe from Alex MacDonald.”
As terrible as this situation is, I know my sons will see Rowena returns soon. The Grey Lady’s features pinched with anxiety but her voice was smooth, revealing no distress.
How could the Grey Lady be so calm about Rowena’s capture? Did she not know what horrors Alex MacDonald was capable of unleashing on her daughter? “Why are you not unsettled by this? And why are you being nice to me? I am the reason Rowena is gone. I am the one who added more fuel to an already overbright fire of animosity between the MacDonalds and the MacLeods. You should despise me.”
None of this is your fault. You might have helped the situation come to a head a little faster, but Alex would have eventually found a way to strike back at Tormod and all my sons with or without your help. The Grey Lady floated a little closer and a genuine smile came to her lips. Were you able to save your home?
Fiona dropped her gaze to her feet. “The castle was destroyed by the MacDonalds, but I was able to save—” Her voice faltered. “I saved . . . my servants.”
Homes can be rebuilt. People are what truly matter. Besides, your home is here now, with your husband and the people who care about you.
Care about you. Fiona’s throat tightened. Someone else caring about her was more than she’d had in a long while. “I appreciate your support, Lady Janet, but why have you come to me when your children need you more right now?”
You are one of my children. I’ve been checking on you all night to make certain you would return to us.
Fiona brought her fingers up to gently touch the bruised flesh at her throat. Her skin was tender to the touch, but it no longer throbbed, then she touched the lump on the right side of her head. “I will heal in time.”
The Grey Lady’s gaze moved from Fiona’s head and throat to the stockings on her feet. You must still possess the hair I gave you and the pebble from the Fairy Cave in order to still be with us in this world.
Fiona wiggled her toes, feeling the pebble rub against them. “They are safe. What am I supposed to do with them now? Keep them on me always?”
