The Secret of Skye Isle

by Dillon, Marisa

  A child?

  Ursula’s gut lurched. Could she be with child? It had been almost two weeks since she and Alasdair had joined as one for that purpose. She sighed. If she could not have him, at least she could have his child. The thought of it made her heart sing.

  After the exchanges were made, diamonds for flowers and a pretty piece of silk, Johnathan seemed more clearheaded than when he’d first reappeared. He and Ursula said their goodbyes and left the faerie glen.

  Could Alasdair have taken on her quest? Ursula would always be wary of what the faeries claimed. Had it been Alasdair or Ethan who had come to the pools? A lost love and promise of redemption?

  Now they needed to make haste and head for Fyvie to save Rosalyn. The flower could arrive in time, but what Alasdair did not understand was Ursula needed to be there, too.

  Chapter 41

  Lachlan paced in Rosalyn’s bedchamber. It had been well over three weeks since Ethan and Ursula had left Fyvie Castle for Skye Isle. He’d quietly regretted his decision, knowing Ethan was only out for himself, and he worried something terrible may have happened to Ursula. He’d expected she’d have returned before now.

  Rosalyn tossed and turned before him in the bed. As he sat by her, his frustration mounted, for there was little he could do to ease his wife’s discomfort. He’d been at her side every waking moment, and most nights, she had slept very little.

  Thea, the midwife Ursula had chosen to take her place, was at the ready, but she was not Ursula.

  Where was Ursula? Every morning and every night, that was the question on Rosalyn’s lips. Lachlan wondered if in some way Rosalyn’s pure will was keeping the babes in the womb.

  What disturbed Lachlan more was the unruliness of the outlaying clans. Lachlan didn’t regret it, but had called in his Garter Knight family, James and Elena, from King Henry’s court. Word that the gilded guards had arrived had settled some of the unrest.

  A sharp rap on the chamber door shattered his musings. He rose to his feet and quickly answered it.

  “What news have you?” Lachlan asked when he found his loyal castle steward at the door.

  “A visitor from Skye Isle,” Shawn announced. Lachlan’s heart sank with the news, but he refused to think the worst until he heard the words from the visitor himself.

  “Take me to him,” Lachlan requested, closing the door behind him, pleased Rosalyn had not been disturbed by Shawn’s visit for it appeared she had finally fallen asleep.

  Once in the great hall, Lachlan took ample strides to the head table. Giving the guest’s hand a firm shake, he invited him to take a seat, while one of his servers poured strong wine into their goblets.

  “Welcome back to Fyvie Castle, Laird MacLeod,” Lachlan said with a wide sweeping gesture, trying to hide his surprise at finding the Highlander in his great hall. “My steward, Shawn, said you have just arrived from Skye Isle.”

  “Laird MacPherson, I am honored to be back here.”

  “Please, call me Lachlan.”

  “You may call me Crotach.”

  Lachlan laughed and was immediately at ease with the Highlander. They’d met weeks ago when the Highlander had delivered the king’s missive. At the time though, Lachlan had been distracted by the potential threat of losing Fyvie. The unrest only exacerbated his already growing insecurities over his recent new role ruling over his wife’s homeland.

  The smile faded from his guest’s face. “As much as I wish to bring you all good news, I cannot,” Crotach told him. “I met Ursula on the boat to Inverness and traveled with her to Skye on her quest to help your wife.”

  Lachlan wanted to interrupt and ask about Ethan, but he was prepared to hear out the MacLeod laird. And as the Highlander explained what had happened over the last few weeks, he clarified what Lachlan had expected. A selfish and disruptive Ethan was missing, as was a courageous and selfless Ursula.

  Even though Crotach did not say he thought them both dead, there was little evidence to support they weren’t.

  “Here it is, the guelder rose,” Alasdair said proudly. The beautiful bloom, with its thick bark stem, appeared miniature in the Highlander’s hand.

  Lachlan plucked it from his guest and studied the fragile bloom more closely. “Thank you for carrying out Ursula’s quest,” Lachlan said.

  “’Twas my honor to do so.” He leaned in closer. “I didn’t think the Fae were going to tell me how to use the flower, but I tricked them into showing me.”

  Lachlan chuckled, imagining this gruff and seasoned warrior conferring with faeries. Although Lachlan had spent some of his early years with his Scottish mother, most of his rearing had been at the hand of his English father and the royal courts.

  Since that time, however, Lachlan had not heard much about faeries again until he moved to Fyvie Castle in Scotland.

  The two men drank more strong wine, and the fragile flower made its way into a safe container. It was getting very late into the evening when Shawn burst into the great hall.

  “My lord, your garrison captain sent me with-urgent report.” His steward was out of breath. “The south wall-under attack.”

  Lachlan rousted himself to his feet. Too much wine sloshed around in his gut and clouded his thinking. Could the clans have chosen tonight to lash out against his rule?

  Crotach was on his feet as well, sword drawn, looking as if he’d just awakened from a refreshing nap. “I’ll take care of Rosalyn. Send me to her room, and I’ll guard her with my life,” the Highlander pledged.

  Normally Lachlan would be suspect of such a promise, but he’d been fostered in British royal courts where snobbery was perfected. Crotach’s sincerity appeared genuine. Lachlan had no reason not to trust him.

  “Godspeed to us both,” Lachlan told Alasdair as the two lairds parted at the arched entrance of the great hall, the Highlander to protect Rosalyn and Lachlan to defend his castle.

  ~ ~ ~

  Once the guards had recognized her, and after seeing Johnathan off to a guest chamber, Ursula headed straight to Rosalyn’s room. Slipping in quietly, she found her sister of the heart sleeping peacefully. Where was Lachlan? She’d expected he’d be by her side, but then she was reminded of the clan unrest. Perhaps the defense of the castle demanded his attention.

  No matter. Ursula was home. Walking first to the table by the window, she picked up her favorite mortar and hugged it to her chest. After the boat, the castles, the wedding, the dungeon, the faerie pools, and the final ride to Fyvie, Ursula was thrilled to be with people she loved and a place she could call home.

  What sustained her over the last four days as she crossed Scotland on horseback with Johnathan was her hope of catching up with Alasdair. As much as she should be suspicious of anything the Fae had said, she was certain the Faery Queen had told her the truth about her Highlander.

  Ian MacDonald had done more than torture her physically, he had abused her mentally as well when he’d lied about Alasdair’s death. No doubt he’d lied to Alasdair about hers.

  Although she was elated he was alive, she feared he still thought her dead. He could have stopped by Fyvie to deliver the rose and left the same day.

  Her musings over his whereabouts were interrupted by an ear-piercing yell. Ursula quickly set the mortar down. No doubt, she’d gotten here just in time. Glancing over her shoulder, she found Rosalyn wide-eyed and clutching her bulging belly.

  “’Tis about time those babes came into this world,” Ursula said with a chuckle.

  Rosalyn squealed. It was a happy sound, and Ursula rushed to her friend’s side.

  Tears welled in Rosalyn’s eyes. “You are alive? I cannae believe my eyes.”

  “’Tis so.” Ursula nodded. “Just in time, for the babes, they must have known I’d arrived.”

  “You are alive?”

  She d
idn’t trust her ears, until she turned to find Alasdair standing in the chamber doorway.

  “You’re not the only one who cannae believe their eyes,” Alasdair exclaimed, rushing forward. “I was told you were dead, but I did nae want to believe it. In my heart, you were still alive.”

  Ursula hastened her steps, anxious to meet her Highlander. When they finally embraced, Alasdair showered her with kisses, from the top of her head to her lips, but another rousing scream from Rosalyn had them both scrambling.

  “I have the guelder rose,” he said, producing a vial with the young bud inside. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she had the same.

  “You thought me dead?” she asked, gazing into his eyes and taking the flower from him.

  He nodded solemnly. “But I wanted to honor your promise to Rosalyn.”

  She grinned until another screeching outburst from Rosalyn had Ursula jumping. She squeezed his hands. “Thank you for risking your life for me and Rosalyn. I will never be able to repay you.”

  Now it was Alasdair’s turn to grin. “I will figure out a way to get payment.” Then he turned toward the door to answer the brief but persistent knocking.

  “We heard screams coming from the mistress’s chamber,” explained the one of the two knights who looked like the leader.

  Alasdair chuckled nervously. “Your mistress is in labor. All is well here. How goes it on the parapets?”

  “Not well, mi lord, many men are lost.”

  Ursula was at Alasdair elbow in moments.

  “James,” she cried. “Elena.” She glanced over at Rosalyn. “Come, you two are not midwives, but I may need your help.”

  James raised a brow but entered the room as if he was commanding it. She and Elena followed him to Rosalyn’s side.

  Elena smiled at her sister-in-law and smoothed back Rosalyn’s untamed red bangs. “Lachlan sent a messenger for us not long after you left for Skye Isle,” she said, looking up at Ursula.

  James turned away from the screeching Rosalyn. Although she was certain he’d never be squeamish on the battlefield, his tolerance for birthing seemed lacking. “I’m needed on the parapets. Rosalyn is in good hands with you both.”

  Ursula turned to Alasdair. As much as she wanted a reunion, now was not the time. “Go with James,” she urged. Elena will stay with us. We have our own battle to fight. Lachlan needs you more.” She quickly gathered up her skirt and loosened a satchel tied there, then pushed the bag into Alasdair’s hands. “You left something behind on Skye. You may need it.”

  His face twisted into a confused expression, making her laugh through all the chaos. “A bit of Faery magic,” she promised, “now go.” Without any further encouragement, he was out of the chamber room with James on his heels before Rosalyn screamed again.

  Ursula turned and exchanged grins with Elena over Rosalyn’s riotous, bulging belly.

  “The last time we were together like this, I was at your other end helping your son into the world.”

  Elena glowed.

  “Motherhood suits you.”

  The next screech from Rosalyn was louder and longer than the last. A signal to Ursula the babes were on their way.

  After telling Elena what to prepare, Ursula quickly walked to the worktable. There, she took the guelder rose and began plucking the thorns from its stem. When it was clean, she took her dirk and stripped the stem of its bark. Once she had ground the bark into a fine paste, she added the rose petals and mashed them with some water until she had created what she needed.

  With a goblet full of the concoction, she made her way to Rosalyn’s bedside. Tilting Rosalyn’s head back, Ursula set the goblet to her lips and helped her friend down the amber liquid.

  In just a few short moments, the yelling subsided and Rosalyn began breathing more deeply, allowing Ursula to attend to another visitor at the chamber door.

  It was Thea, her distant cousin. “I received word from one of the guards the labor has begun.”

  She gave the midwife a hug. “Aye, I can use two sets of experienced hands, for two babes are twice the trouble,” she said with a grin.

  Thea joined Elena, and the three women prepared to guide two new souls into the world.

  ~ ~ ~

  After Alasdair and James walked out on the castle’s parapet, it did not take the Highlander long to assess the situation was grim. Bodies lay scattered about the narrow walkway, while a handful of soldiers continued to defend the castle with bows and arrows from where they stood.

  After observing the defenses and assessing the ammunition, Alasdair solved the quandary. While Lachlan’s clan fought with the traditional longbow, the attackers used a combination of catapult and flaming arrows. Similar tactics he had used himself when storming the MacDonald-occupied Eilean Donan Castle.

  James had joined the soldiers, shooting arrows with his longbow in an attempt to stop the advancing clansmen, who were at the main gate with a battering ram.

  When Lachlan noticed Alasdair, he met him at the parapet entrance. “This is not your battle.”

  “Any battle that involves family of the woman I love becomes my battle,” Alasdair declared in earnest.

  When Lachlan appeared confused, he offered an update. “She’s alive.” He slapped Fyvie’s laird on the shoulder. “Ursula is alive.”

  Lachlan’s heavy concern lifted for a moment, lightening his expression. “Aye, it’s good news and more reason to fight to defend our women and the castle.”

  Alasdair waved the laird into the alcove away from the fighting. “Lachlan, you may not have the same experience in battle as I, but you’d have to be blind not to notice your main gate is about to be destroyed. It’s no longer protected, and even with our efforts on the parapets, the garrison here cannot stop what’s happening below. The women we love are at risk.”

  “Then we continue to fight,” Lachlan vowed. “There is a secret tunnel. You can take the women to safety,” Lachlan suggested, his eyes wild with concern.

  Alasdair didn’t want to break his spirit, but Rosalyn was in no condition to be moved. “You are about to become a father, Lachlan.”

  The Fyvie laird stumbled backward, but Alasdair grabbed his arm before he fell, lifting him back on his feet, anxious to share more good news. “Your midwife has returned not only to deliver your babes, but also to deliver this.”

  Lachlan appeared perplexed until Alasdair produced the secret of Skye Isle, the yellow silk flag from the satchel Ursula had handed him earlier.

  Then his confusion lifted. “The Faery Flag?”

  Alasdair nodded. “And Godspeed,” he promised, unfurling the legacy of the MacLeod clan with pride.

  Chapter 42

  The great hall at Fyvie Castle had been cleared of the cursory royal courtesans, and those who remained were bound by blood or oath. Tossing a handful of gold coins in the middle of the rough trestle table reminded Ursula good luck was never random and the quest for power ever present.

  Two days had passed since the clan uprising had ended with the unfurling of the Faery Flag. Rosalyn had been blessed by two healthy twins, and Ursula had reunited with her Highlander.

  She counted those blessings as Alasdair counted his coins before tossing them in the center with her own. Ursula never liked to gamble, but once again, she’d found herself at the table rolling dice and playing thirty-one with three men.

  “Ursula, you’ve been unusually lucky this evening. Let me examine those dice,” Lachlan requested, grinning at her from across the table.

  “It’s just witchcraft,” she answered with a wicked smile, handing the dice over anyway. “They are the same you rolled afore my turn.”

  James pushed her hand back. “Lachlan is a sore loser,” he told her, counting the few coins he still had. They were dwindling.

  Lachlan
tugged on his dragon tail ring. “Let’s up the ante for Ethan’s sake,” he challenged those at the table, setting his ring in the center.

  Lachlan’s half-brother James pushed away from the trestle table and turned to his wife, Elena, who’d been standing behind him. “My Garter knight wages are still not large enough to keep up with the likes of you,” he said, standing and putting his arms around her.

  “Elena and our new baby boy are my fortune,” James said, kissing her atop of her head. “Those I will never gamble away.”

  “Is there an empty seat at the table?” The question came from across the great hall, and they all turned to gape at Ethan, especially Ursula.

  As he sauntered across the expanse of the great hall in his usual way, Ethan kept his eyes planted on her. How could it be that things never changed with this one? She’d thought he was dead, and he deserved to be. Yet, here he stood at the table to prove her wrong.

  “Missed me?” he asked, taking the seat across from her, the one James had vacated.

  Alasdair rose to his feet, the chair he’d sat in bouncing to the floor. Before anyone could say a word, his hands were around Ethan’s throat.

  “I thought you said this seat wasn’t taken,” he choked out with little air, his eyes bulging.

  “He’s harmless,” Ursula said, although she shouldn’t have. She hated Ethan for so many reasons, but he’d always survived his misadventures like a cat with nine lives.

  Alasdair gave her an apologetic shrug when he released Ethan and returned to his seat.

  “What are we playing for?” Ethan asked, smoothing his embroidered collar back in place and eyeing Alasdair, who’d sat back at the table again.

  Before anyone else spoke, Ethan spotted the dragon tail ring in the center of the table. “Is Fyvie Castle in play?”