by Gwyn Brodie
"Aye, it does. Do you ken a suitable dressmaker? It seems I'm in need of a handfasting gown."
With sudden tears in her eyes, Flora gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm most pleased—for the both of ye. The woman who made Lady Sorcha's clothing still lives in the village, and her ladyship was always delighted with her work. Would ye like me to send fer her?"
"Aye, but make certain your laird hasnae already made other arrangements."
She nodded, then hurried from the bedchamber.
Ceana looked out across the partially thawed loch. Did she dare allow herself to feel happiness, when there was always a chance Lyall Campbell might find out her whereabouts? Did she not deserve to have a life—a husband, children? Of course. But before she would be the cause of Alex, or any of the wonderful people of Blackstone, being harmed or killed, she would go away—even if it meant leaving behind everything she loved.
A KNOCK SOUNDED AT the door of the solar.
"Enter," Alex said, winking at Ceana.
She could hardly wait to tell her uncle the news of their upcoming union.
Art came through the door looking very much bewildered, and closed it behind him, then looked from her to Alex.
"The lass and I wish a word with you," Alex said. "Please, sit down."
Alex sat next to the fire, Ceana beside him.
Her uncle sat down on a chair next to her.
Ceana placed her hand on his. "Alex kens who you are, Uncle Artagan."
Art's eyes narrowed. "I see. Shall I gather my pack, and be on my way?" He looked at Alex.
Alex chuckled. "Nay. You're here because we have something to tell you. A handfasting ceremony will be held on Yule for Ceana and myself. I've asked your niece to be my wife, and she's agreed."
Her uncle's mouth spread into a broad grin. "I told you he cared for you, lass."
"You did at that. As my closest living relative, I'd like you to stand with me during the ceremony."
"Of course, I will. James and Eliza would be most pleased to have Laird MacPherson as your husband. From what I've seen, he's a fine man."
Ceana looked over at her soon-to-be husband and smiled. "He is."
"Please, call me Alex. And from now on, you'll be sitting at the high table along with us. You're as highborn as I am. The only difference being, all you had has been taken from you by the king, and the Campbells—same as Ceana. But if I were you, I'd continue to use Grant. It'll not get you killed, nigh as quickly as MacGregor."
He nodded. "Aye. I thank you, Alex. You're most kind. I look forward to having many a long conversation with my niece beside the fire."
"I think this calls for a dram of whisky." Alex rose from the settle, poured three cups of the liquid fire, and handed them one each. He raised his. "To Ceana, for making me the happiest man alive."
While the men gulped down the contents of their cups, Ceana sipped hers, praying Alex would not soon regret asking her to be his wife—or she regret agreeing to it.
Chapter Eleven
A week later, Alex lay awake in bed, staring at the sliver of moonlight streaming through a crack in the window coverings, still not believing Ceana had agreed to marry him. The lass was all he thought about, dreamed about. She had become a living, breathing part of him. Before she came into his life, he had only been going through the motions of living, but she made him feel alive, allowed him to once again see the beauty of the world around him.
A soft knock sounded at the door separating their rooms. It appeared he was not the only one unable to sleep. He threw back the covers, slipped his shirt over his head, and opened it to find Ceana dressed only in a chemise, her eyes filled with tears sparkling in the firelight.
His chest tightened. "What is it, mo chridhe?" he asked, gently drawing her into his arms. "Another dream?"
"Aye. 'Tis as if I watch my parents die again and again," she said, clinging to him. "'Twas frightening, and I didnae wish to be alone."
He held her away from him. "You're not alone, Ceana, and never will be again, if I have anything to say about it."
She smiled. "Might I sleep in here with you for a bit?"
Alex groaned inwardly. He should tell her no, for sleep would be the last thing on his mind if she were in his bed. But he could not. "Aye, whatever you wish, lass," he said, leading her to the bed. They crawled beneath the covers, and he drew her back against his chest, then slipped his arm over her small waist.
She wiggled closer to him and signed contentedly.
His eyes popped open, as his already heated body became fully aware of Ceana's shapely hips pressed against it. He clenched his teeth to steel his need, hoping his torment would be short-lived, as she would soon return to her own bed, but after a few minutes, she was deep in sleep and he refused to wake her. Alex blew out a breath. It was going to be one hell of a long night.
CHIEF LYALL CAMPBELL looked up at the gray morning sky and frowned. He, Gil and fifteen of his best men had left Kilchurn Castle five days ago, and by his estimates, they should have reached Blackstone Castle before now. He had never been to the MacPherson stronghold, but on several occasions, had seen the laird and his now deceased father, laughing and conversing with King James at Whitehall Palace in London. He had never cared for the whoreson and cared even less for him now that he knew he was harboring a MacGregor—and one who had stolen from him. He would make certain the king was made aware of MacPherson's outright disobedience.
The two men he had sent ahead to search out the lay of the land had returned, and he brought his horse to a halt to wait for them to reach him.
"Blackstone lies two mountains over, with loch and cliff behind it, moor and wood before it, chief." Angus pointed over his shoulder.
Lyall nodded. "We'll use the wood for cover then. I dinnae want MacPherson kenning we're about until I'm ready." He kicked the horse beneath him. The miserable cur he had taken from Teineaer did not come close to his warhorse. But if all went as planned, he would soon have his stallion, as well as the thieving MacGregor who took him.
Gil rode up alongside him but said naught for some time. "I fear ye're making a mistake. Alexander MacPherson is no green lad. His reputation as a fierce Highland warrior precedes him."
Lyall growled. "The whoreson is no more of a warrior than you or myself." It irritated him, to no end, that his own warlord was so unsure of his fighting prowess—or his own chief's—for that matter.
It was not long before the impressive castle, with its massive black stone walls, and monumental tower came into sight. Lyall brought men and horses to a halt in the thick wood at the far edge of the moor and dismounted. "We've a good view of the front of the castle from here. I want to get an idea of who comes and goes, when the guard changes, that sort of thing, and have a plan in place before seeking hospitality." He peered through the thick underbrush, silently counting the guards pacing along the ramparts, and those on the walk patrolling the outer wall.
"What if MacPherson doesnae grant the lot of us hospitality?" Gil questioned. "He'll not so easily allow seventeen men inside the protection of his castle walls."
Lyall frowned. Perhaps it was time he found himself another warlord, one who would not question his chief's judgment. "I ken men like him," he said, his gaze fastened on the portcullis. "He'll allow us inside, and when he does, I'll find out whether or not that bastard, Mungan MacDougal, lied about my horse, and the MacGregor lass being there. If what he said is true, then I'll not be leaving Blackstone Castle without them—no matter how many MacPhersons I have to take down to do it."
WITH YULE AND THE HANDFASTING ceremony only weeks away, Ceana walked on her own to the stables for the first time. Alex stayed diligently beside her, ready to catch her should she stumble. Thus far, she was doing just fine.
Regaining the use of her feet had come with no little effort. She had walked around the bedchamber, and up and down the corridor until her feet ached, and made her way down the stairs and to the dining hall for each meal—with Alex's help. Sh
e had been determined to walk across the great hall and stand beside him during the handfasting ceremony, and her steadfastness had paid off. It surprised even her how much her feet had improved in such a short time.
Renny stood next to the fence of the outdoor enclosure and whinnied softly when she saw her.
Ceana smiled. "I'm so glad that you're here, my bonnie lass." She patted the horse's nose.
Nearby, Saidear kept a close eye on her colt, Egan, as he kicked up his heels and dashed back and forth in front of her. She raced over to the fence, with the wee lad in tow. Alex had given Ceana the task of naming him the day of his birth, and she had chosen Egan, due to his lovely dark red coat.
"Good morn, sweet Saidear," Ceana said, scratching the mare behind the ears, before patting the colt on the head. "You're a lively lad."
The colt tossed his head as if in agreement, before dashing off on his long spidery legs. she laughed, as she watched him.
Cree must have heard her voice, for he let out an ear-shattering squeal from the stables.
After given the mares one last pat each, she and Alex went on to fetch Cree. Ceana had not ridden the stallion since the night they had reached Blackstone in the snowstorm, and she had been looking forward to it for a good while. With her daily visits to the stables, the bond between her and the horse had become even stronger. She loved him dearly, and he seemed to feel the same way about Ceana.
The stable lad retrieved his saddle, then hesitated. Though the stallion had calmed down greatly since he had been at Blackstone, his size alone was enough to terrify some, let alone his occasional burst of temper. But never with Ceana. He was always the perfect gentlemen whenever she was about.
Ceana patted Cree's nose, and spoke gently to calm him, while the stable lad cautiously laid the saddle on the horse's back.
Alex frowned. "Are you certain you're up to riding him? I've many other horses you could choose from. Why not ride Renny? You ken Cree will want to run, once you get him out on the moor," he warned while saddling Jet himself.
She fed the horse an apple tart she had slipped away from the table that morning. "'Tis Cree I wish to ride. I'm very good, Alex."
He snorted. "You'd have to be, lass, or else you'd not have made it here riding him," he said, watching Cree's every move.
She smiled. His hovering over her like an old mother hen made her daft, but it also told her he cared for her. A sudden lump formed in her throat as she looked up at him and smiled.
Once Cree's saddle was secured, the stable lad, who looked most relieved to be done with it, hurried off to perform his duties elsewhere.
Alone, Alex pulled her against him, then kissed her, adding to the undeniable desire he felt whenever he was near Ceana.
She slid her arms around his waist, kissing him with unbridled enthusiasm, and pushing him to the edge of control.
Alex growled. He had best stop now, for he could well image carrying her up the ladder and making love to her in the soft, sweet hay. Reluctantly, he took his mouth away from hers.
Ceana's brown eyes were even darker with need, her cheeks pink, and her lips swollen and wet with his kisses. Alex cursed beneath his breath. At that moment, Yule seemed a lifetime away.
He lifted her onto Cree, then mounted Jet. He was amazed at how different Ceana was now than when he had found her lying in the snow close to death.
Though snow covered the ground, the sun was out and the day warmer than usual, for that time of year. Once outside the castle walls, they raced across the moor, Ceana's laughter filling the air and his heart.
She urged Cree into a run, and run he did, stretching his long black frame out full length, eating up the distance, whilst his mane whipped about in the brisk wind. And the lass was loving every minute. At the edge of the stream, she brought the stallion to a halt, allowing him to quench his thirst.
Alex came up beside her, grinning. "I've never seen a woman ride with such abandonment."
She smiled.
He leaned over and brushed a wind-loosened curl away from her face, then kissed her. His love for her was all-consuming, and made each day worth living because he knew she would be in it.
"Thinking of bedding the lass, are you now?" sounded a man's voice nearby, followed by the laughter of others.
Alex's blood turned to ice. He quickly unsheathed his broadsword and scanned the nearby undergrowth. "Who's there? Come out where I can see you. Or are you too much of a coward?"
Lyall Campbell rode out of the wood, followed by many men, each with a sword in hand.
He heard Ceana's sharp intake of breath and glanced over at her. She had turned the grey pallor of ash. "No matter what happens, do as I say. Do you hear me?"
She nodded, never taking her gaze from the men before her, who were now beginning to slowly encircle them.
How long had Campbell been watching Blackstone? Waiting to ambush anyone who came outside the castle walls? He had been waiting for Ceana, and Alex had led her right to him. A sharp pain sliced through his heart as solid as a blade. Where were the guards he had ordered to patrol the castle grounds?
"Dinnae come any closer," Alex shouted. Seventeen men, he counted. He might be able to take down a few of them, but not all. Their only hope lay in getting back to the castle.
Campbell smiled, but brought his mount to a halt, as did his guards. "Who's going to stop us? You, MacPherson? The MacGregor lass? 'Tis my stallion she's riding, the one she stole from me. I want him back and I'm going to see her punished for horse stealing."
Ceana found her voice. "How dare you accuse me of stealing your horse, after murdering both my parents and dozens of my people," she said angrily. "And 'tis my father's own stallion, Vala, that you're riding. If I'd not seized upon the opportunity to take this horse, and had stayed behind, I'd now be dead at your hands as well."
Campbell laughed, but his face had reddened considerably. "The lass is daft. According to the king's sanction to execute all MacGregors, I've murdered no one, only followed His Majesty's orders."
"You can deny it all you wish, but I saw it. 'Twas murder plain and simple," she declared, her voice trembling with emotion.
He snorted. "You saw naught, there's no way you could've."
She glared at him and slowly nodded. "Aye, but I did, from the laird's lug. The fight between the Campbells and my father was unfair, with several of your men rushing him all at once, and killing him."
Campbell's smile slowly faded.
Ceana continued to speak, even as the chief's rage grew with each word she spoke. "Then I watched you try to kiss my mother. 'Tis how you received that scar on your face. She used her sgian dubh on you, and that was when you slit her throat. You deserve naught more than to dangle at the end of a rope until you're dead. May you burn in hell for all the evil you've done in the name of the king."
Lyall snorted, but it was clear she had touched a sore spot. "I'm through talking. You and the stallion are coming with me."
Alex could not believe the man's arrogance. "To hell she is. You'll have to go through me to get to her." He raised his sword and made ready to do battle, for Lyall Campbell would take Ceana over his dead body.
Campbell raised a brow and smirked. "Then that's what I'll do." Without warning, they rushed Alex.
She screamed.
"Get back to the castle," he shouted to Ceana, as he brought up his targe, blocking Campbell's blow. Another man came up beside him, and Alex drew his blade across his forearm. The man yelped and dropped his weapon.
Whirling Cree around, she headed for the safety of the castle. "Run, Cree, run," she shouted to the stallion.
Before Campbell or his guards could come at him again, Alex swung Jet around and headed after her at a dead run. He pressed himself low against the horse's back, as arrows swished past, and he prayed none would strike Ceana. Blackstone was not far away, but it seemed an eternity before the guards on the ramparts saw them, and began launching their own arrows, picking off one Campbell after another.
Suddenly, Lyall Campbell appeared close beside her.
Sheer terror clutched at her chest, and she kicked at him, which served naught, but to anger him.
"MacGregor whore," he spat, as he tried to bring Vala up close to Cree.
With her fist, Ceana struck at Lyall over and over, while controlling the stallion beneath her, with her other hand. "Get away from me," she shouted, praying someone would hear her above the ear-splitting noise.
Ignoring her blows, he repeatedly forced his mount against Cree's side, driving him from the battlefield and into the wood, where the chief strategically wedged the stallion between Vala and a pine tree, before dragging her from her saddle and onto his lap.
She balled her hands into fists and beat him about the face and head, but he managed to pin her arms against her sides. "Let go of me, filthy cur," she screamed, kicking wildly.
He pressed the blade of his dirk against her neck. "You make another sound, and I'll kill you here and now, just like I did your mother," he growled in her ear.
Ceana went limp, as nausea swept over her like a cold, dark, wave.
"That's better." He removed the blade from her throat but kept it clutched in his hand.
They were no great distance from the castle but hidden from sight by the thick undergrowth. She prayed Alex was safe, for if anything happened to him, she would never forgive herself.