by Willa Blair
“Friar Tam!” Ellie gasped. “Are ye well?” His florid complexion gave no indication, looking as red as usual. But his robe was soaked, and he had a small bump on the side of his temple.
“A bit of an ache in the head is all.” He struggled to his feet with Donal’s assistance.
“Did ye see who did this?”
“Nay, not really. They came up behind me. There were more outside. I didna see them, either.”
“Nay?” Ellie’s heart sank. She’d hoped he could confirm who the culprits were. But Tam had never met the MacDuff or his men. He spent nearly all of his time here.
He shook his tonsured head, then winced. “I’m sorry, Ellie. They were upon me before I could turn. I didna see their faces, nor any clan badges of any kind.”
“Whoever did this took care to conceal their identity,” Jamie commented, coming up behind them. “Innis says there’s nothing around the building but broken casks and a lot of spilled whisky.”
Ellie had to stifle a groan at the mess and the question she dreaded asking. “Tam, were any of the lads here during the attack?”
“Nay, lass. I’d already sent them back to the keep for their supper and bed. Whoever did this possessed the wisdom to attack at a time when there wouldna be any opposition, except for one broken-down old friar.”
“Ye’re certain ye didna ken them?” Donal asked. “How many were there?”
“I barely glimpsed two before one of them cracked me over the head with something, but I heard at least one outside, perhaps more.”
“More than two or three men were needed to do this much damage,” Jamie observed.
“Unless they took their time and worked through the night.” Donal planted his fists on his hips and looked around. “And why not? They didna expect anyone to come calling after they took care of the friar. I’d wager they kenned he was here alone.”
The friar looked around. “I couldha used ye here yestereve.”
Ellie’s eyes welled again. She fought back the tears. She dared not give in to girlish weakness. The men weren’t crying over spilled whisky, were they? Nay, they looked for answers to the riddle.
“Let’s clear out those damaged casks,” Jamie suggested, “We can see if there’s anything to be salvaged.”
Ellie offered him a tremulous smile. “Thank ye, Jamie, that’s a good idea.”
Donal and he started tossing cracked casks and loose staves toward the doorway to be carried out later, setting twisted metal hoops aside in a pile to themselves.
Friar Tam took her arm. “Come, Ellie, let’s discover what else there is to save.” They picked their way through the mess into the tumbled stack of casks and began rolling what they could out of the way.
“Oh ho!” Tam soon called out. “They didna get them all. Here are some still intact.”
Ellie’s heart lifted as she tossed aside the stave she’d just picked up. “How many?” She joined Tam at the back of the pile and groaned. “Six, maybe eight if we’re lucky.”
“There may be more, lass.” Donal joined them and heaved wood and metal out of the way so they could get to the unbroken casks.
“I count a dozen,” Tam announced.
“A dozen out of a hundred.” Ellie grimaced, her heart sinking yet again.
“’Tis better than none, aye, my lady? The Lord has preserved for us the least part of what we need to sustain us.”
“The least part, indeed,” Ellie groused, then sighed and fisted her hands on her hips. “Aye, ye have the right of it. This is better than naught. We can devote it to our biggest customers, or blend it with another year’s to stretch it.”
“That’s a decision for another day,” Friar Tam said, patting her shoulder. “For now, let us do what we can here.”
“I’ve sent Innis back to the keep to bring help,” Jamie added. “They’ll be here soon.”
Ellie wiped her face with her sleeve, gathering strength with a breath. “Then let’s see what else there is to see before they get here. There must be some clue as to who did this.”
****
Donal bent to clear the mess around the unbroken casks, fighting to hide the fury that threatened to consume him. Ellie shook, whether with anger, fright, or heartbreak, he could only guess. A host of emotions were all there to see on her pale face, in the tracks of her tears and the set of her shoulders. But he admired the way she tried to hide it. Her voice echoed strong and sure in the cavernous space as she moved about with Friar Tam, assessing the damage, seeing what they could salvage, discussing how to go forward. She focused on saving her clan, despite a disaster that would have left many lasses and more than a few lads weepin’ and wailin’ like a banshee. Nay, she behaved as a laird should, assessing, thinking, planning—not running off to start a war with Clan MacDuff without solid evidence a war was warranted.
But he’d kill the man who’d caused her such pain if it was the last thing he did. He just needed proof. They’d been careful to leave a few casks unbroken. Or had they been interrupted? He caught Jamie’s eye as Ellie and the friar moved farther away to search the rest of the building and gestured at the much-diminished stockpile. “I think they left this on purpose.”
“Another message?”
“Aye. If she doesna do what the MacDuff wants and marry the bastard, he’ll be back to destroy the rest of the store.” Donal’s gut clenched at the thought of Ellie bound to that man, but he kept his mind on the immediate danger. “If that doesna do it, then he’ll set fire to the building. This place is whisky-soaked enough to go up like a torch despite the stone walls.”
“Too dangerous to use in the future?”
“Given time and a lot of washing down, it can be made safe again.”
“Then we’ll have the lads bring in clean snow and start scrubbing down the walls and floor. It’ll be cold work,” Jamie said with a shiver, “but we darena build a fire to melt the snow. There’s too much whisky spilled everywhere.”
“Aye, as soon as we clear the mess, that makes sense to do, though I doubt much has penetrated these stones.” Donal tapped the floor with a stave. “But it’ll wash down much of the whisky that’s soaked into the mortar. They’ll have to leave doors and windows open for days or even weeks to air it all out, before they dare start the still to cooking again. We’ll have to set a watch here, too, not just at the keep.”
“That’s something we shouldha done before this happened.”
Donal pursed his lips. “Aye. I blame myself for that.”
“Nay, no’ just ye.” Jamie wiped a hand down his face. “I shouldha realized the importance of this place after hearing her talk about the dangers to her clan from the neighbors. But they’ve gone four years without much violence.” He shook his head. “Because no one disturbed it before didna mean it wouldna become a target. Ellie Saw this, but too late to prevent it, no’ that she understood the meaning of the dream until she saw the result.”
“What’s done is done.” Donal shrugged off the comment about Ellie’s vision. He was in no mood to deal with the subject of her unreliable talent. “But I swear to ye, Jamie, whoever did this is mine. He’ll pay for it with his life.”
“That’s Laird MacKyrie’s decision, no’ yers,” Jamie admonished.
Donal tossed the stave he held toward the pile near the door. He hated this feeling of helplessness. Hated even more that someone had done this right under their noses. But Jamie had the right of it. Ellie must make the decision, unless whoever did this chose to attack more directly. Then Donal would act.
Unless he acted first. If he became Ellie’s consort, he would be responsible for pursuing whoever did this. Nay, he dared not think about that. He preferred a nice clean sword fight to the complications that idea would bring into his life.
“Let’s get to work,” he growled and went back to tossing the detritus toward the door. Jamie moved off to another area and did the same. For a while, the structure echoed with the clatter of wood landing on wood, counterpoint to the clang of the
metal bands that had once bound the now-broken staves into kegs.
Ellie and Friar Tam came back subdued from their survey and set to work helping remove the smaller pieces.
Donal couldn’t help but notice how her movements slowed as the day progressed. He feared her exhaustion and grief would overcome her. Finally he could no longer stand watching her wear herself out. He sent her out to get something to eat and drink from the packs on the horses. That she complied without argument confirmed his fears.
Within moments, she came back. “Some of yer men are on their way down the hill with a group of MacKyrie lads.”
That was good news, despite the fact she was chewing on her lip. Why? With help, they’d make faster progress here.
“And the MacDuff,” she added. Donal stilled. Jamie had apparently heard her, for he came to stand at Donal’s side. Friar Tam joined them.
“The MacDuff?” Donal asked, unable to believe he’d heard her correctly.
The low rumble of fast moving horses intruded under the din of young lads’ shouts of surprise at the scene they encountered outside. There were more than a few oaths mixed in.
“They’re here,” Jamie said and put a hand on Donal’s arm. “Remember, we’ve no proof.”
“Yet,” Donal added. He and Jamie exchanged glances, then Donal turned his attention to Ellie as Jamie released him. “Are ye ready, lass?”
“Aye.”
She didn’t look ready to Donal, but he took her at her word and stood aside to allow her to pass through the open doorway first, her due as laird.
“Wha’ the hell?” Forbes exclaimed as he spotted them. “Who did this?”
“Who indeed?” Ellie’s regard turned to the MacDuff, still ahorse and looking down on the destruction with a satisfied smirk. “Who indeed, Lachlan?”
His eyebrows arced disarmingly. “Why ask me, MacKyrie? I have no knowledge of how this came about.”
His brazenness infuriated Donal, but he bit down on his oath. It was Ellie’s place as laird to deal with the MacDuff.
“Do ye no’?”
“Ye wound me, Ellie. Nonetheless, I’ll help put it to rights. I’ll just ride back to the keep and send a pair of my men to assist ye. It appears there’s work for many hands here.”
With that, he turned his mount and rode away before Donal gave in to his urge to pull the bastard from his horse and beat the smile from his face.
“‘Work for many hands,’” Forbes muttered. “The man has stones, I’ll give him that.”
“I’ll give him the edge of my blade,” Donal swore and turned to Ellie. “Are ye all right?”
“Aye,” she answered with a shudder. “Nay. I’m furious and I canna do anything except clean up the mess that man made.”
Donal put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “’Tis hard to see, I ken that. But ’tis only a year’s production. There will be other years, better years.”
Ellie pulled away and started pacing. Donal stood back to let her walk off the emotions plaguing her as Jamie set the lads and other Lathans to working.
“Perhaps,” Ellie finally answered, “though ’tis hard to see at the moment. Donal, this makes it even more important to get those casks to market that ye saved when Fergus and the lads were attacked. Without that income...” Her voice cracked as she shuddered again. “Without that income, we’ll no’ be able to replace the casks he destroyed, much less buy seed and cattle as we’d planned.” She paused, staring off into space, then resumed pacing, changing direction with each thought that occurred to her. “Thank goodness, the older whiskies are stored in the keep, not here. But this means extra work to make up what we lost today. We need more men. It won’t get done with just laddies and coos. The deliveries need armed escorts. We need so much and I canna provide any of it for my people.” She turned to face him, fists clenched at her sides. “If I wasna so sure MacDuff was behind this disaster, I’d consider his suit.” She shook her head and sighed. “I’m running out of options.”
Donal clenched his teeth against the anger consuming him, sick at the thought of Ellie giving in to the MacDuff. He fought it down. She didn’t need his anger right now. She needed his help. “Nay. Calm yerself, lass.” He reached for her but she paced away from him, still counting her troubles. “’Tis too soon to think like that. He’s done this to force yer hand, Ellie. To make ye think no treaty can protect ye if he can get into yer glen to do damage like this.” He grasped her arms when she neared him again and pulled her around to face him. His heart squeezed at the determined frown on her face. “But that’s about to change, lass. The wagons will go with Lathans in escort as soon as the pass opens. Ye ken that. They’ll go through.” He brushed a windblown strand of ebony hair out of her silver eyes. “There will be Lathans here, and men from treaty clans. This willna happen again.”
“It canna. My people wouldna survive it. My only option to save them would be to submit to Lachlan’s desires.”
Donal’s gut roiled at the thought of Ellie in Lachlan MacDuff’s arms. “Dinna speak of it, lass. It willna come to that.”
Ellie leaned into him.
He wrapped her in his arms, suddenly fierce in his determination to hold her safe from harm.
Chapter 11
Three days later, Donal awoke to bright sunlight streaming in the window of his bedchamber. Good, the snow had stopped. A few hours of this and maybe that infernal pass would open up. Not that it made a difference to him. He would not leave. But it did matter to Ellie. With the damage done to the distillery, the MacKyries were in even more trouble than when the Lathans arrived.
They’d finished setting the distillery to rights, though it was still airing out. True to his word, two of MacDuff’s men had arrived in time to help finish sorting salvage from unusable bits of staves, and to assist with the washing down with clean snow that Donal hoped would help clear the spilled spirits from the interior.
MacDuff and his men had behaved since the destruction at the distillery had been discovered. Since then, they’d kept to themselves for the most part, though Donal had seen some of MacDuff’s men in conversation with Sawney, which didn’t bother him since they were likely discussing their accommodations. But he’d also seen them with Micheil, which did bother him. What interest did Ellie’s closest friend have with the MacDuffs?
Ellie had spent a little time with the MacDuff which seemed to please him. But Donal knew her real purpose was not to mend fences, as the MacDuff likely thought, but to see if he’d slip up and admit to being involved with the damage to the distillery. Donal expected he’d be too crafty to blunder like that.
At least she hadn’t mentioned any more dreams. Perhaps the MacDuff was done with mischief for a while, having delivered his message at the distillery.
Donal made is way down to the hall to break his fast. The rest of the Lathan contingent arrived as he ate. By the time he finished, the MacDuff strode in with his men.
Donal saw them looking up at the sunlight streaming through the hall’s upper windows before they settled themselves at a far table and began a low-voiced conversation. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he hoped they were discussing travel plans. Would they go? Or would they stay and try to make trouble? Or more trouble than they already had?
Ellie entered the hall with Micheil. She looked tired, distracted. Ever since the attack on the distillery, the worry lines between her brows had deepened. Donal heard her mention whisky and wagons as she pointed to the windows.
As they moved nearer to where the Lathans sat, he also heard Micheil’s answer.
“Aye, if the pass is clear, we can take the wagons out again. We’ll only be a week or so late in deliveries. Most of the private buyers willna mind, but the pubs and inns may be runnin’ short by now and eager for our arrival.”
“True,” Ellie replied, lifting a hand to greet the Lathans as she and Micheil passed to take seats at a nearby table. “But I worry the bandits who attacked our wagons are still out the
re. Ye’ll be no more able to fight them off by yerselves than ye were the last time. Ye still need an escort.”
Donal grimaced. So Micheil was still determined that the MacKyries do everything for themselves? That was foolish, though he doubted Micheil would agree, even though the proof approached.
The MacDuff walked up to Ellie’s table as she mentioned an escort. “I’d be happy to have my men escort yer wagons,” he offered. “They can ride with them as far as the first village. That should get them out of reach of the bandits who attacked them the last time.”
Ellie turned slowly in her seat to regard the MacDuff. Surely she wasn’t considering his offer? She cocked an eyebrow at the man looming over her, holding his gaze for a moment.
“Thank ye, Lachlan, but that willna be necessary.” Her smile looked forced. “MacKyries can take care of themselves. And look,” Ellie continued, gesturing to the windows at the top of the hall, “the sun is shining. I’m told ’tis a warm and windy day, perfect for melting snow. I think ’tis time ye found yer way home. The pass will surely clear enough by the time ye get there for yer horses to get through.”
“Lass, if ye could take care of yer clan, ye’d still be makin’ MacKyrie whisky.”
Donal tensed. Jamie, beside him, leaned forward but made no other move.
Ellie gasped. But somehow, she kept her head. “I’ll say it again, Lachlan. We willna require MacDuff assistance.” She rose to her feet and lifted her chin. “Now, or in the future.”
Donal held his breath. Micheil rose beside her, a crease marring his forehead. Ach, she’d surprised even him, openly defying the MacDuff.
The MacDuff got red in the face, but he didn’t charge forward as Donal had feared. He merely spoke. “Dinna be so sure, Laird MacKyrie.”
“I am quite sure, Laird MacDuff.”
The MacDuff planted his fists on the tabletop and leaned toward Ellie. Donal gathered himself, prepared defend her. “Our day is coming, lass, yers and mine.”
Ellie blanched but stood her ground. “Laird MacDuff, please leave MacKyrie, and take yer men with ye.”