“He wants you there tonight.”
“But I told Kara that I was going to help her prep for tomorrow as two ships are arriving.”
The Mackbaythes’ lands were not extensive, but they were strategically located. The focal point was Bàgh Fìon, a small port nestled on the eastern edge of Upper Loch Torridon. The inlet was not only protected by mountains, but it was unusually deep, enabling large ships to pull up to a dock to unload and load goods versus ferrying them by rowboat. As a result, Bàgh Fìon was one of a handful of ports that could handle larger ships and the only one along the western Highland shore that was not situated on the open coast and exposed to the turbulent seas between the Isles of Skye and Harris.
The port was defended by three structures. The first and most prominent was Mackbaythe Castle. Strategically located along the southern side of the inlet, it was originally nothing more than a large two-story bastle house, fortified with extremely thick stone walls and a vaulted ceiling. Her grandfather, however, had seen the advantages of a deep bay and, over the course of his lifetime, built the local area into a small but active port. With the profits, he built an L-shaped stone tower house for the laird, his family, and special guests to stay and turned the bastle house into a large great hall. Next to it were the kitchen, a small bakery, a buttery, stables, and even a forge—all the elements of a castle, just without the curtain wall and moat.
Instead, he had built two large peel towers. One was at the center of the port, where it could help oversee and protect those ships coming into the dock. Around it the village had grown, and therefore the tower was known as Baile Tùr—the Village Tower. The bottom and second floors were mostly used for storage and if necessary became bedrooms when the castle was overcrowded. The top floor, however, was hers. She had moved there to be away from her father and closer to her friends in the village, and thankfully, her father had not cared. If anything, he preferred her absence.
The second tower, Daingneach, was on the northern side of the inlet, across from the castle and next to some falls. Some called the tower the Falls but Adanel referred to it as the villagers did—the Fortress. It was the most formidable of the three and where the majority of the Mackbaythe guard, weapons, and the dungeons were kept. Its location gave the best view of incoming ships as well as the perfect setting to shoot at attacking vessels in the bay . . . something that thankfully had not happened in Adanel’s lifetime.
Scattered between the towers lived the heart and soul of the Mackbaythe clan, the village. Almost every Mackbaythe worked in and around the docks in some capacity, and her best friend owned the one and only respectable inn. It was also Adanel’s refuge for it was the one place she could go and be herself. It was where her mother had been the happiest before she died, and where her father and brother never ventured.
“Kara will have to wait until the morrow, but I’ll make sure she knows your absence was due to your father’s request. And in case you are thinking about how to get out of attending, don’t. You have no choice. You are to be there.”
Adanel’s brows furrowed. None of her father’s friends had paid any attention to her for years. She had been barely seventeen when one of them had made advances and her father had the man severely beaten. After publicly humiliating him and making him crawl on bloody hands and knees all the way out of the castle and through the village, not a single guest of his since had the nerve to even look her way, let alone show any interest. She would have believed herself to be repellent except for Daniel. And he had paid the ultimate price.
“Am I going to learn why I am being summoned after I am there or are you going to tell me why my father suddenly wants me at his table?”
“Willemus and his son Daeron are expected to arrive just before sunset,” Faden answered with a sneer, “so you know your father is going to want you to look especially nice.”
Adanel blinked. The MacCoinniches were coming, which explained Faden’s foul mood. He did not like them. None of the MacLeods did, and the feeling was reciprocated.
Though there were dozens, perhaps hundreds, of small clans littered throughout the western Highlands, only three were of significant size and power. The smallest of the three in size and power were the McTiernays of Torridon. Cole McTiernay had anchored his faction of the McTiernay clan on the southern side of lower Loch Torridon. They had a small port attached to his castle and would have been peaceful neighbors if her father had not made several threats when Cole had been named laird. The villagers whispered that her father had also made several attempts to stir up trouble for the new laird and tried to create rifts between him and the other neighbors. To her knowledge, it had not worked, but the resulting tension and distrust remained today.
The largest in size were the MacCoinniches, whose only disadvantage was being landlocked—something their laird was working to end. They wanted their lands to stretch from the western sea to Scotland’s eastern shores at Cromarty Firth.
The second largest clan, but arguably the most powerful, belonged to the MacLeods because they owned the sea. The seafaring clan held the lands hugging the northwestern shores but all their deep ports except for those in Loch Ewe were exposed to rough waters. However, because her father had married Laird MacLeod’s eldest daughter, an automatic alliance had been forged. As a result, it was their ships that took and brought most of the goods to and from Mackbaythe docks. That was why Laird MacCoinnich had been forced to work with her father to buy and sell his goods. Otherwise, without the protection of the MacLeods, the Mackbaythes would have disappeared long ago under MacCoinnich rule.
Still, because the feud between the MacLeods and MacCoinniches was well known, Adanel had always been in a little awe that her father had been able to maintain civil dealings with both of them. Then again, it was his connection to both clans that kept her father safe. Each clan knew that any move to take over the port would mean a costly, deadly war.
“Just when did you find out about Laird MacCoinnich’s arrival?”
“Just before we left,” Faden answered unapologetically. He had almost canceled their ride, but it had been two weeks since their last outing due to poor weather. When the morning rain had gone away leaving warmth and sunshine in its wake, he had not the heart nor desire to disappoint Adanel, not to mention his own physical need to visit his lady friend.
“I’m not sure if I should be angry with you or thank you,” Adanel playfully chided him.
“Thank me, of course. If I had told you, we would not have come today and you seem . . . let’s just say especially happy that we did.”
“I . . . did enjoy today,” Adanel replied just as carefully. “I just hope Father doesn’t look for me until after we return.”
Faden knew by keeping silent he had put Adanel in a difficult position, but he did not care. He felt no loyalty to either the Mackbaythes or his own clan, the MacLeods. The only one who had his fidelity was Adanel and she had needed today’s respite as much as he had.
When Adanel’s grandfather built the tower houses, the MacLeods had wanted guaranteed access to the port, but not until his death were they able to strike a deal with his son. Adanel’s father had negotiated a small percentage of whatever came through his port as a fee, and in return the MacLeods had unfettered access to the port. To ensure the deal held, Laird MacLeod sent his second child and oldest daughter, Faia, to wed the newest Laird Mackbaythe.
Not long afterward, Faden’s father had sent his eldest son as a “guard” for Faia, which Faden later discovered, was in reality the least of his brother’s responsibilities. Faden’s eldest brother fulfilled his role for two years until the second eldest MacLeod son turned twenty-one and took his place. This happened every two to three years until it had been Faden’s turn. He had come with the same instructions as all his brothers had before him.
Adanel had been twelve at the time and her mother had been dead for four years. Her one protector had been her best friend Kara’s mother, and she had passed just months before Faden’s arriv
al. His heart had wrenched at seeing Adanel so sad and scared, and he had vowed to do whatever he could to help her. He had promised that when it was his turn to return home, he would not leave her vulnerable.
Unfortunately, being the youngest son meant there had been no one to take his place; therefore, his father had denied his request to return. Later, after Daniel had been brutally executed right in front of Adanel, proving her father to be an unstable monster, Faden had tried again, asking for his father to intervene. His father had sent the same reply: “You have yet to fulfill your duty to me and the MacLeod clan.”
That day Faden stopped trying to do his duty, knowing that after nearly three decades, his father asked the impossible. None of his brothers could answer his father’s demand, and in his mind, nothing justified abandoning him and his granddaughter.
Adanel sighed. “Well, at least with tonight’s company my father will have to keep his cruelty to a minimum. Laird MacCoinnich was not amused during his last visit.”
Faden chuckled at the memory. “I expect your father will be wanting to leave a better impression.”
“I must admit to being a little surprised that they are returning. Does Laird MacCoinnich have a daughter I don’t know about? Then again, I would not wish my brother on even the most horrid of women. It scares me to even think of what would happen to the one who agrees to be his wife.”
Faden kept silent, but that did not mean he disagreed. Eògan was four years younger than Adanel, and while both siblings possessed the red hair of their mother, only Adanel possessed her spirit. Eògan looked like a MacLeod, but he was in every way his father’s son.
“I wonder why the MacCoinniches are coming here. They left so quickly last time, I thought never to see them again,” Adanel pondered aloud.
Faden wondered, too. Young Daeron MacCoinnich believed himself better and cleverer than any soul alive despite being only seventeen. Faden had only met him twice, and on both occasions, he had been surprised at the level of Daeron’s intelligence. Unfortunately, the young man’s undoubted genius was coupled with an inflated ego that made him ignore unwanted council and rush to incorrect assumptions as well as action. He mistakenly believed that being smarter than those around him meant his needs and desires had priority over all others. Simply put, Daeron was a pompous child in a man’s body, and Faden had no use for anyone’s arrogance, especially when it was not earned.
“I don’t know why they are coming. You’ll have to tell me tomorrow.”
“You are not coming?” Adanel asked, alarmed by the idea.
Faden rode on refusing to reply, knowing his silence alone answered her question.
Adanel twitched her lips. “As my guard, I could make you come.”
“Not even your father could do that.”
“I could guilt you into it.”
“Don’t have any use for that emotion. And you and I both know that as a MacLeod it is best if I am not around.”
“Aye,” Adanel huffed. “But with no one to help keep me sane, I might accidentally let slip what is really on my mind. I’m half MacLeod, too.”
Faden shook his head. “Then I suggest biting your tongue.”
Adanel snorted. “If I do that, it will be a bloody mess before the first course is through.”
“Do me a favor, Adanel,” Faden said, slowing his horse so that he could look at her. “Avoid young Daeron as much as possible. The MacCoinniches are not to be trifled with, and we have tempted fate enough today just by coming onto McTiernay lands.”
“Daeron’s only seventeen, Faden. I’m nearly twenty-six. He probably looks at me like everyone else does—as a spinster no one wanted.”
Faden shook his head but did not argue with her. “He’ll be eighteen come this fall, and boys at that age think themselves just as knowledgeable as the wisest of men. Not until much later do we realize how foolish the notion to be. Be careful of him.”
“You worry needlessly. I doubt Daeron will look in my direction. Last time, he was very haughty and only impressed by his own intelligence. The rumor is that he remembers everything he ever sees, hears, or reads.”
Faden looked unimpressed. “No matter how clever a man may be, there is always someone smarter. Daeron might remember a bunch of facts, but he doesn’t know what to do with them.”
Adanel threw her head back and laughed. “You speak as if you believed the rumor were true!”
Faden pursed his lips together. He had overheard the young man speak a few times, and based on the little that he had caught, Daeron MacCoinnich did have an unbelievable memory and possibly could do just as the rumors said. That made him incredibly dangerous and someone to avoid. “Just don’t talk to him.”
Hearing the seriousness of Faden’s tone, a lump of fear began to form in Adanel’s stomach. “Do you know something about why they are coming, Faden?”
“Nay, and that bothers me. Powerful leaders like Laird MacCoinnich demand people come to them. Normally, he would never travel to see someone like your father, so something is driving this visit. Pay attention and hope your father does not do something unwise. Laird MacCoinnich has a large army that few can defend themselves against.”
Adanel looked straight ahead, not wanting Faden to see her frightened expression for her uncle was right. If Laird MacCoinnich was coming, that meant her father had brought him here. They were making a deal and that could only be for the control of the port. Her home.
Once again, the need to escape her life rushed through her. But to where? The only clan that would not simply return her back to her home was the McTiernays, but they would declare her an enemy. As a Mackbaythe, they would have no reason to see her otherwise.
Adanel blinked. As a Mackbaythe, she was an enemy. But what if she wasn’t Mackbaythe? What if she could convince a certain McTiernay soldier to handfast with the promise to let him free after the obligatory year? Today proved they were very compatible and if not, she could always live elsewhere. And his actions alone proved he was not committed to anyone. Best of all, a skilled McTiernay soldier was someone her father would not be able to so easily kill or intimidate.
Unfortunately, she had no reason to believe she would ever see him again. Then again, she had mentioned her visit to the loch was a weekly one. If he returned next Tuesday, the idea was not impossible. Thank God, she had never told him her name.
* * *
Dugan sifted his fingers through his mystery woman’s hair, watching how it played in the sun. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s red,” came a muffled correction against his chest.
“It’s red if you mean every shade of red known from darkest to lightest, all mixed up together. And that, my aithinne, is beautiful.”
She shifted and raised herself up on one elbow to look down at him. Never had anyone robbed him of breath, but this lady did every time. Even now, with one brow arched in a way that silently called him a liar. But he wasn’t lying. He was not even exaggerating. He actually meant every compliment he had ever given her.
“Flattery is something a man typically offers before he grabs a woman and kisses her senseless,” she said.
Dugan smiled and easily reversed their positions so that he was looking down at her. “I think it was you who did the grabbing and me who was kissed senseless.”
Her soft laughter filled the air. “I doubt a woman has ever made you senseless, let alone with a kiss.”
She was wrong. These past two weeks Dugan had been nothing but senseless when it came to her. To the point he had been practically useless when it came to his duties.
He had been preoccupied before, but that had been due to clan situations, politics, or even a good rivalry during planned Highland games. Never had his mind been so fixated on a woman.
For years, he had unapologetically enjoyed the attentions of many lovely and eager women of all ages. He followed only two rules: they could not be married and no virgins. And while some might have hoped their physical relationship would progress into somethi
ng more permanent, Dugan had never given them any reason to think it was even a possibility. Commitment was not for him.
To him, marriage was sacred. Honor required vows made between men to be upheld, but those made with a woman and to God were for life. Not only did he not have the capacity for such loyalty, experience had shown him that he did not inspire fidelity in others. In the end, people always chose what was best for themselves regardless of their promises, alliances, or even beliefs.
Though he would have never dreamed it possible when they first met, Cole McTiernay was one of the few men Dugan trusted with his life. The McTiernay laird was abrupt and could even appear cold and heartless at times, but he was fair and one always knew exactly where they stood with him.
Surprisingly, Cole’s wife, Ellenor, was also one of the few people Dugan trusted, and if she was not completely besotted with her husband, she might have made him reconsider his opposition to marriage. Then there were Donald and Jaime, Cole’s commanders. Both men had been wary of Dugan and he of them, but time had erased their distrust and forged their initially tenuous relationships into surprising but solid friendships.
Never would Dugan have dreamed that he would ever have the strong bond he had with these four McTiernays. They absolutely had had his loyalty. Trust, however, was something very different. He had learned the hard way that there was only one person he could ever completely trust—that was himself.
And that was why he had been useless.
His secretive redhead was stirring primal emotions deep inside him that he had never felt before—unyielding desire mixed with the need to protect, possess, and claim. But his firebrand was determined to remain a mystery, which required a level of trust from him based simply on faith and hope, not history and experience.
The first time Dugan had left her side he had told himself that his anonymous aithinne had offered nothing but a fun, unexpected divergence, and he wished her well. Less than an hour later he realized he was already devising plausible excuses to come out this way again the following week.
How to Marry a Highlander Page 5