“Aunt Iseabail expects an heir.”
“Aye, but ye donna fool me for one minute, Alex. I see the way ye look at the lass as of late.”
“I looked at Doireann that way, too.”
“My apologies. What did ye say? I couldnae hear through your complete load of hogwash.”
Their conversation was quickly cut off as five MacKenzie men thundered toward them. When the men stopped, Alex recognized his wife’s brother.
“MacDonell, what are ye doing here?” asked Colin.
“I come to speak with your father.”
Colin nodded. “Then come. I will escort ye and your men.”
As the MacKenzie men escorted them to Kintail, Alex looked at the sight before him. With MacKenzies and MacDonells riding side by side, he realized that not long ago, swords would’ve been drawn and fights would’ve ensued. MacKenzie and MacDonell tartans would have been ripped to shreds, the men with even bigger scars of their own.
When they reached the castle, Alex dismounted and handed his mount to the stable hand. With MacGregor and John by his side, Alex followed the MacKenzie’s son into the great hall. The space was somewhat larger than what he had expected. And although he was hesitant to admit it, the room was more extravagant than Glengarry. Fine woven tapestries, as well as painted portraits of past MacKenzie lairds, hung on the walls. A large stone fireplace took up the center wall, and the MacKenzie clan crest was imbedded in the middle. Alex slowed his pace and read the words carved from stone.
Luceo non uro. I shine, not burn.
If MacGregor was surprised by the MacKenzie’s apparent wealth, he didn’t say so, not that Alex thought he would. They continued into the MacKenzie’s study where the man looked up from behind his desk in surprise. The room was filled with dark furnishings, and two bookcases lined the stone walls. Two broadswords were mounted above one bookcase and a shield on the opposite side. When the MacKenzie turned his head and looked at MacGregor with further uncertainty, Alex spoke.
“Laird Ciaran MacGregor of Glenorchy, my cousin’s husband.”
The MacKenzie gestured the men to the chairs as Colin stood again by his father’s side. “Please sit. Ye are a long way from Glenorchy, are ye nae?”
“My wife visits with her seanmhair.”
“Ye are also the one who killed the hand of the king.”
MacGregor’s eyes darkened. “It was naught that wasnae deserved.”
The MacKenzie quickly turned his attention to Alex. “Laird MacDonell. And how fares my bonny daughter?”
“Sybella is the reason for my visit.”
The MacKenzie turned around and pulled ale from the shelf. “Can I offer ye and MacGregor a drink?”
“Nay, we will return to Glengarry.”
“Verra well.” The MacKenzie sat back casually in his chair. “I know my daughter is willful and rarely minds her tongue, but if ye give her time to adjust—”
“The MacLeod tried to kill her. Twice,” Alex blurted out.
The MacKenzie sat forward and folded his fingers on his desk. “What do ye mean?”
Alex continued. “The first time was when we walked in the forest. An archer took aim at her head and barely missed. I had my most experienced tracker search the trail, and it was if the man had simply disappeared. The man was good and left nay trace. I confined Sybella within the walls of the castle and there were nay other attempts.”
“But ye said there were two attempts,” said the MacKenzie.
“Sybella and I stood upon the parapet, and the archer—”
“God’s teeth!” The MacKenzie pounded his fists on the desk. “What are ye doing to protect my daughter? I placed her in your ca—”
Alex interrupted the MacKenzie’s words vehemently. “We found the man.”
The MacKenzie’s face clouded with uneasiness. “Ye did?”
“Aye. He wore the MacLeod tartan but wouldnae speak.”
“Where is he? Ye let me speak to him.”
“He is dead,” Alex simply said. “I donna know all of what went on between ye and the MacLeod of Lewis, but now the man has attempted to kill my wife. I demand justice.”
“What do ye propose?” asked the MacKenzie.
“I will travel to Lewis with some of my men. I will either bring the MacLeod before King James to pay for his crimes or dispense my own Highland justice—sword against sword, man against man. I havenae yet decided. One way or the other, I will have the man’s head.”
The MacKenzie nodded. “Give me three days to arrange your passage to Lewis. I will have a few of my own men at your disposal as well. After all, the man attempted to kill my own daughter. We shall place his head on a pike together.”
Alex stood. “I will return within three days.”
MacGregor and John stood, following Alex to the door. Damn. Alex had almost forgotten and turned in midstride.
“Colin.”
Sybella’s brother looked at Alex in surprise.
“My wife wanted me to tell ye that she will do as ye ask.” For an instant, Colin’s gaze sharpened. Alex added, “Ye asked her to make something for Anabel.”
“Aye. Thank ye for letting me know.”
***
As soon as the door closed, Colin attempted to speak but his father held up his hand to silence him. The MacKenzie stood from the chair and disappeared into the hall for a moment. When he walked back into the study, he closed the door behind him.
He chuckled with a dry and cynical sound. “Och, the MacDonell is naught but a daft fool.”
“What do ye mean?”
“The MacLeod archer was my own man, Fearghas MacKenzie. ’Tis a shame I lost a good man, but he accomplished what he set out to do, unlike ye. By the time the MacDonell figures out what is afoot, it will be too late.”
Colin started to pace and ran his fingers through his hair. “Father, what the hell are ye talking about?”
“Fearghas took the first shot at Sybella in the woods. And just as I figured he would, MacDonell confined her within the walls of Glengarry. Had ye done as ye were told, your sister would have already found the stone and it would already be back where it belongs.”
Colin was breathless with rage. “Ye had a MacKenzie take aim at Sybella? Ye could have killed her! What if he had missed? ’Tis one thing to use your daughter to hunt for the stone and entirely another to take aim at the lass’s head! When I talked with her and she told me about the archer, I didnae realize the man was our own kin! Ye didnae even give her time. She would have found the stone.”
“Colin, spare me your excuses. Ye do your tasks at one pace, always have. By the time my stone is returned, I will be an old man. I told ye I need that stone before the king’s men travel to Lewis.”
“I donna understand. The MacDonell said two shots were made. If the MacDonell kept her within the walls, why would ye have Fearghas take another shot?”
His father’s response held a response of impatience. “Fearghas obviously missed. The second shot was meant for the MacDonell.”
“When the bloody hell did ye decide to kill the MacDonell?”
His father shook his head and waved Colin off. “It doesnae matter now. Sybella searches for the stone. Things couldnae have worked out more perfectly, if I say so myself. Now I just have to simply sit back and donna have to do a damn thing. The MacDonell will take care of our problem on Lewis by killing that blasted MacLeod, and King James will nay longer bother us. ’Tis only a matter of time before we MacKenzies rule Lewis.”
Fifteen
Sybella fumbled for a plausible explanation and her voice broke miserably. “Rosalia…I was searching for ye. I thought mayhap ye were trying to put Lachlann to sleep so I opened the door.”
“My seanmhair watches him, and I came to see if ye were going to join us or if ye wanted me to bring ye a tray.”
“I will join ye and Aunt Iseabail to sup. The walls of my bedchamber have started to close in upon me.” Sybella led Rosalia away from the door, trying desperately to mask the guilty expression on her face. She said a silent prayer of thanks when Rosalia followed her and appeared to believe the words that had hastily escaped her lips. No matter, Sybella recognized that she needed to be much more cautious.
When they entered the great hall, they saw Aunt Iseabail sitting at the table and holding Lachlann on her lap. With a bright smile upon her face, she bounced him gently on her knee. As Rosalia and Sybella approached the dais, Aunt Iseabail looked up.
“My great-grandson is quite a delightful lad.”
Rosalia giggled. “Give him but a few minutes, Seanmhair, and he will be back to his ways. Just like his father.”
“Be that as it may, until then, I shall enjoy him.”
Rosalia pulled out her chair and sat down beside Aunt Iseabail. “Would ye like me to take him now? I know he can become quite heavy after a while.”
Aunt Iseabail kissed Lachlann on the head. “Nay, I am having a wonderful time with him. He loves his seanmhair.”
Sybella sat down at the table and smiled. “Of course he does. He is a wise lad.” She reached for a piece of bread and took a bite. All of this searching did wonders for her appetite.
“How do ye fare, my dear?” asked Aunt Iseabail.
Sybella nodded, wiping the crumbs from her chin. “I am much better, thank ye. I am surprised Alexander and Ciaran havenae returned yet. Do ye think it will be soon?”
“I wouldnae expect them until later this eve. They did ride the entire way to Kintail, ye know. And leave it to the men. Once they start talking amongst themselves, time passes and they pay it nay heed. Unless, of course, it’s time for the midday meal or time to sup.”
Sybella and Rosalia couldn’t help themselves as they burst out laughing. This was definitely one of Aunt Iseabail’s clearer days. The woman was pure delight. In truth, Sybella hated to see Aunt Iseabail’s mind falter. And not only because of how Aunt Iseabail’s decline affected Alexander. Naturally Sybella felt sympathy for her husband, but Aunt Iseabail was the type of woman that simply grew on a person. Sybella truly cared for her.
Aunt Iseabail waved her finger. “Ye laugh, but ye best remember that ye two havenae been wed all that long. I’ve had years to discover the ways of men.”
Rosalia leaned in toward Aunt Iseabail and gave the woman a conspiratorial wink. “It doesnae take that long to figure out our men. I think Sybella and I already understand what ye mentioned, though. Food is definitely the way to a man’s heart.”
Without missing a beat, Aunt Iseabail responded. “Well, that or tupping.”
Rosalia brought up her hand to stifle her giggles while Sybella was half laughing, half crying from Aunt Iseabail’s blunt declaration. The woman was obviously in rare form this eve.
“What are ye two laughing at? I may be old, but I am nae dead.”
Sybella sat back, watching the jesting between Rosalia and her grandmother. She couldn’t help it when her mind drifted back to the many conversations with her own mother. Sybella realized she’d been far too long without female companionship—even crazy Mary. In truth, Sybella simply enjoyed hearing laughter, any laughter. Something she’d sorely missed as of late. Everything around her had quickly become far too serious.
When a thought of Colin popped into her mind, Sybella hoped her husband had remembered to deliver the message. Hopefully, she’d bought herself more time before her father decided to do something rash—again. Praise the saints. Her nerves were on edge. She wasn’t masterful in the ways of deception and didn’t like it at all. She’d almost been caught rummaging through Rosalia and Ciaran’s bedchamber.
When the meal was finished, Rosalia placed a sleeping Lachlann in bed while Sybella retired with Aunt Iseabail to the ladies’ solar—another place Sybella had yet to search. Perhaps she could find an opportunity to discreetly hunt for the stone.
The room was similar to the one at Kintail, with dainty pictures of the fairer sex wearing delicate gowns. At least the conversation was better than the same boring subjects at Kintail. When Sybella thought of the many times that Mary had reprimanded her for her stitching, a shudder passed through her. Surprisingly, life at Glengarry was becoming more like home.
Rosalia returned with a wine sack. “Finally, Lachlann is asleep. I brought us something to relax.”
“What is that?” asked Aunt Iseabail.
“My husband’s ale.”
Aunt Iseabail held her hand over her heart. “My dear, are ye trying to kill me? That ale will knock me out for days.”
“Come now, Seanmhair, a drink will nae hurt ye. In fact, it might be exactly what ye need. ’Tisnae only a man’s drink. Can ye grab some cups from the shelf, Sybella?”
Sybella grabbed three cups and placed them on the table. She sat down beside Rosalia, who poured a healthy amount of MacGregor’s ale into each cup and handed one to each of them.
“Before we drink, let me make a toast,” said Rosalia. “To kin.”
“To kin,” answered Aunt Iseabail and Sybella in unison.
Sybella took a mouthful, clamping her eyes shut as she swallowed. The liquid burned down her throat like the hottest of fires. When she opened her eyes, Rosalia had already poured the women another.
“’Tis your turn to make a toast, Seanmhair.”
Aunt Iseabail lifted her cup. “To my bonny Lachlann, the dearest lad in all the land.”
“Aww…Who couldnae drink to that?” asked Sybella. She took another mouthful and closed her eyes again as she swallowed. The liquid was warm as it traveled down her throat but not quite as bad as the first time—or in Alex’s study.
Aunt Iseabail placed her cup back on the table. “That is it for me, Rosalia. I am off to bed.”
“Ye cannae take your leave just yet. Sybella hasnae made a toast.”
Aunt Iseabail sighed. “All right. One more, and then I go to bed.”
Rosalia refilled the cups and then nodded to Sybella. At this rate, Sybella would not be able to search for the stone. She’d be surprised if she could make it to her bed on her own accord. Perhaps Aunt Iseabail had the right idea and Sybella should flee while she had the chance.
Lifting her cup, Sybella smiled. “To new beginnings.”
“To new beginnings,” Rosalia and Aunt Iseabail said in unison.
Aunt Iseabail stood. “I am walking to my chamber before I am unable.”
“Do ye want me to walk ye?” asked Rosalia.
“Nay, enjoy your eve while ye wait for your men to return.”
Aunt Iseabail bent and kissed Rosalia on the head. “I love ye, my sweet lass.”
“I love ye too, Seanmhair.”
Aunt Iseabail walked over to Sybella and also kissed her on the head. “It warms my heart to see ye make my Alexander so happy, dear Sybella.”
Sybella reached out and grabbed Aunt Iseabail’s hand. “I am glad to be here, Aunt Iseabail.” To be honest, Sybella meant what she said. The MacDonells were quickly becoming family. Home.
***
Alex was tired, but at least he’d received the answer he sought from the MacKenzie. The man had arranged passage for him to Lewis and agreed for Alex to bring back the MacLeod’s head. A good day’s work, if he did say so himself.
As they approached Glengarry, the sun started to set below the horizon, casting Alex’s home in an orange glow. The castle looked warm, welcoming. He thought of Sybella and wondered if she would be the same. He was particularly fond of how the sunlight reflected on her golden locks, and he could not easily forget her skin of rose and pearl. Not being able to stay his thoughts, Alex shifted in the saddle. His wife was a rare beauty. And frankly, he missed her.
The men rode into the bailey, and Alex hoped that Cook had kept them something for sup
, or he and his men would surely be raiding the pantry. The stable hand took their mounts, and Alex entered the great hall with MacGregor and John. They were starting to make their way toward the kitchens when the clanking sounds of metal against metal rang throughout the hall. Without hesitation, the men unsheathed their swords, running toward the sound of men in the heat of battle—under Alex’s own roof no less.
They abruptly came to a halt.
What the hell?
The commotion came from…the ladies’ solar. If Alex had not witnessed the sight before him with his own two eyes, he would never have believed it. His cousin and his bonny wife wielded their daggers while the men stood in the hall and merely gaped.
“I am the fierce Laird Ciaran MacGregor of Glenorchy. And I will be obeyed,” slurred Rosalia, her voice deep.
“Give me but a moment while I fix my hair.” Sybella held her dagger under her arm while she placed an unruly lock of hair behind her ear.
Rosalia laughed. “Aye, my cousin would say that.”
The men lowered their weapons and sheathed their swords.
With his laugh barely contained, John said, “They are your problem. I go to eat.” And with that, he waved Alex and MacGregor off, ambling to the kitchens.
MacGregor stepped in the door and folded his arms over his chest. “I donna sound like that, Wife.”
Rosalia looked up and smiled, blowing her loose tresses from her lips. She stumbled over to MacGregor and placed her hand on his arm. “Ye are back.” She turned to Alex and almost fell into him. “Cousin, ye need to take care of your-r-r-r wife.” Rosalia lowered her voice to a whisper. “She is in her cups.”
MacGregor chuckled. “Sybella isnae the only one.”
Rosalia looked offended. “I am nae drunk. Remember, Ciaran, I am used to your ale.”
MacGregor looked at Alex and rolled his eyes. “Aye, I can see that. Come. I will take ye to bed.”
She threw herself into MacGregor’s chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I would love for ye to take me to bed, Ciaran.” She stood on the tips of her toes and placed her lips to MacGregor’s.
Victoria Roberts - [Bad Boys of the Highlands 03] Page 16