“I’m not speaking to you,” she shouted. Without sparing him a glance, she cut off the path and dashed into the trees.
Malcolm’s blood quickened as he gave chase. He headed into the woods at an angle, coming out in front of her. She gave a startled yelp and changed direction. This tactic of hers he knew well. Scooping her up, Malcolm turned her around and draped her over his shoulder.
“Put. Me. Down.”
“Nay.”
“I am not a sack of grain you can haul around at will.”
She struck at his back with her small fists and tried to lift herself up. He shifted her higher over his shoulder, dangling her lower down his back.
“Oh…this…is…not…good. Where…are…you…taking…me?”
She spoke in rhythm to his strides. He found it extremely amusing. “To our chamber. We need to talk.”
“I’m…going…to…be…sick!”
Malcolm froze. Sliding her down to her feet, he peered into her face. If he’d made her ill, he’d never forgive himself. “Take deep breaths.” Cradling her face between his palms, Malcolm studied her. “Are you going to cast up your morning meal, lass?”
“No.” She swatted his hands away. “I haven’t eaten anything. I wanted you to put me down, and you did.” She sprinted away. “You’re so easy.”
He growled and went after her. Catching her about the waist, he lifted her off her feet and started for the keep. “What do you mean you have no’ yet eaten? You will break your fast, and then it’s back to bed with you.”
“I’m not a child, so don’t talk to me like one.” She gasped in outrage.
“I dinna recall saying you were a child. These visions tire you. I will no’ have you making yourself ill.”
She gave him an angry scowl followed by a resigned sigh and remained mute as he carried her across the bailey, up the stairs and into the great hall.
His mother and sister sat at the table before the hearth. “Mother, would you please see to it something is put together for True to eat? She has no’ yet broken her fast. Elaine, fetch a fresh pot of tea.”
The moment Malcolm settled True on his lap, with the dark bread and slices of ham in front of them, she started to cry. Murmuring soothing nonsense, he fed her small bits of the meal.
“Whatever is the matter, dear?” Lydia asked, her brow furrowing with concern. “What have you done, Malcolm?”
“Nothing,” Malcolm answered. “She’s had another vision, there’s no food in her belly, and she’s no’ had enough rest.” True glared at him and opened her mouth to reply. He put more food into it.
“You must have done something.” Lydia took True’s hands, rubbing and patting them in sympathy.
His sweet wife nodded vehemently. Elaine returned from the kitchen with a fresh pot of tea. He could smell the chamomile and rose hips she’d prepared to soothe True’s nerves. He continued to feed his crying wife, who chewed and swallowed between her tears—and glares. “Elaine, I think the tea would be best served once True is settled in bed. Will you have it sent up?”
“I’ll bring it, Malcolm. Mayhap you have better things to do. I can see to her welfare.” Elaine gave him a pointed look, one that pinned the blame for her friend’s overwrought state squarely upon his shoulders. Aye, he would take the blame, and proudly. He was going to be a father.
He grinned at his sister. “Nay. I’ll see to my wife. Bring the tea, or have it sent.” Lifting True in his arms, he started for the stairs. The tears had ceased, and she yawned. Laying her head on his shoulder, her arms came around his neck. All he needed in this world to be happy rested right here in his arms. He bent his head and brushed a kiss across her brow.
“Not talking to you,” she whispered through another yawn.
“Mmmm.” He felt it best to refrain from comment. Once they entered their chamber, Malcolm set her on the bed. He moved to the hearth, where he stirred the few remaining embers to life and added a brick of peat. Beth came through the door with the tea and slices of toasted bread on a tray. “My thanks, Beth.” She lingered, glancing at True and wringing her hands. He pointed to the door. “That will be all. Close the door as you leave.”
Malcolm leaned against the wall and faced his distraught wife. He should have told her how he felt long ago—as he should have sent word to his father that he’d chosen the only woman he would ever take to wife. His neglect in these matters had hurt the woman he loved. She suffered needlessly because of him.
Why hadn’t he told her? How oft did he put things off? ’Twas a flaw in his character. One he’d work to improve. “What has upset you so, Alethia?”
“If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.”
“You are the truth-sayer, mo anam. I am but a simple man and an oxy moron at that.”
His wife’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. She snorted at his words. Malcolm fetched a scrap of linen for her to wipe her tears, placing it into her hand before going to the table to pour her a cup of tea. “Alethia, if you dinna tell me what vexes you, how am I to make it right?”
“You married me.”
“Aye?” He handed her the tea and took a seat beside her.
“You don’t love me.”
“Who told you this?”
“Liam. He said, you better than anyone should know you have no choice when your heart is given…”
“Aye. My heart is given.” He nodded solemnly.
She burst into tears. “Why would you marry me when you love someone else?”
“I would no’ do such a thing.”
“You’ve never said you love me. So, it must be…” She blinked at him and looked genuinely confused.
He put his arm around her shoulders. “Drink your tea, lass.”
She took a sip, opened her mouth to say something, and then shut it again.
“Do you no’ ken the meaning of mo anam?”
“No.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I assumed it meant ‘my burden to bear’…or…or…my responsibility.”
“Nay. It means my soul, or the very air I breathe.”
“Oh.” She glanced at him.
“And mo cridhe means my heart.”
“It does?”
“Alethia, with your powers to discern a man’s intent, have you no’ listened to what my heart and soul tell you every day?”
“I’ve tried,” she wailed. “What I get is a tangle. I have no idea what it means.”
“Aye, well, what I feel for you is no’ a simple thing. It goes deep, and it is tangled—with worry and desire. And there’s the instinct to protect, possessiveness, and you do aggravate me at times, woman.” Her eyes grew wide at his words.
“My heart beats only for you, Alethia. You are the very center of my world.” He took her hand, twining their fingers together. “Now and forever.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “’Tis you I love, lass. And Liam spoke the truth. I had no choice in the matter. I lost my heart the very day I found you by the side of the road.”
“Oh.”
She started to cry. Again. He took the tea from her and set it on the table by their bed. “Do you no’ have something to tell me as well?”
“I…love you too,” she sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck.
Malcolm lay back on the bed, bringing her with him, and tried to hide his smile. Tucking her body next to his, he rubbed her back until she yawned into his chest. “Is there anything else you wish to tell me?” He held his breath.
“Yes, Malcolm. I’m…”
He waited. “Aye?”
“I’m so very tired,” she whispered.
“Humph. To bed with you, woman.” He helped her out of her gown and tucked her in, stretching out beside her.
“Oh, Malcolm. I feel…another vision…coming.” She turned to burrow closer into his side. “This is becoming a real pain in the ass.”
And with that, she slipped from him, appearing as if asleep. Malcolm lay beside her and thought about her visions. Could it be the
bairn causing them? She’d said once before she’d never had visions. Why now? Mayhap they came to her only when those she loved were in peril. If so, she was certainly a treasure to the well-being of his clan.
Poor lass. Extra precautions would have to be taken to see she took care of herself. Wrapping his arms tighter around her, he nuzzled the crown of her head and dreamed about his son, calculating when the lad would be born.
“It’s a girl,” Alethia murmured.
He drew back and looked at her in surprise. She gave no indication she was aware she’d spoken. He didn’t doubt her words for a second. Och, well. There’d be plenty of time for sons. His thoughts drifted to the lass they’d have next fall. He smiled and played with a strand of his wife’s silky hair while imagining his wee daughter with chestnut hair and eyes like the ocean.
“Malcolm, I’m just saying I know more about the Comyn keep than you do.” Alethia rushed to keep up with his pace as he strode down the hall toward his father’s solar. “I need to be there while you and your men plan. There are things you have not thought of. I can draw a diagram.”
“You will no’ be coming with us to Castle Rait, True.”
“I haven’t said anything about coming with you.” She threw her hands up in exasperation.
He stopped and swiveled to face her. “Are you saying you’ll agree to stay here where ’tis safe while I am away?” His gaze bored into her, and he gripped her upper arms.
“I haven’t asked if I can come. I know it’s pointless.” She looked him square in the eye. It wasn’t really a lie; she did know better than to ask. Besides, she knew their plans backward and forward, including the errors. She’d be there, all right. And she’d help them with the flaws, ensuring their success.
Studying her face for several tense moments, he finally grunted. “Mayhap you can be of help. You ken the keep, you say?”
“The last vision I had I made a point of getting to know the place. Remember I told your father I can commit to memory anything I study? Well, now’s the time to put that talent to use.” As the words left her mouth, Giselle’s prophecy came back to her in a rush. Had the gypsy known this talent would be needed? She sucked in a breath. Had she also known she’d start having visions?
“What is it?”
“Giselle said I had hidden talents, and that I would need them all. Malcolm, this is what she sent me here to do. Don’t you see? I can give you information that will save your life. Yours, Mairen’s, and every MacKintosh warrior in your company.”
“Come then.”
Once all were settled around the large, rectangular table, she began to draw a map of the Comyn keep on a large square of vellum. “Their kitchen is not attached. It’s a separate building, here.” She sketched the building where it stood behind the castle. “This is the door they use to transfer food into the great hall. Mairen’s chamber is here at the east end of this corridor.” She pointed to the spot. “She’ll be locked in, but not guarded. Liam.” She paused to look into his attentive gaze. “Can you get word to her?”
“I’ll find a way.”
“Tell her to bar the door from within. You must somehow get a rope ladder to her, and instruct her to hide it well. The only way for her to escape will be through her window. The small gate built into the curtain wall lies not far from where she’ll come down.”
Alethia looked around the room at the men hanging on her every word. That she could aid them against the Comyn’s murderous plot gave her a sense of purpose—it humbled and frightened her at the same time. She cared about these people, and more than one life hung in the balance. They’d come to be her family. All of them had a place in her heart.
“You need to know this—the villagers, bakers, blacksmith, craftsmen and shepherds—they know nothing of the planned treachery. They think the reconciliation is for real, and they welcome an end to the bloodshed. They must not be harmed.”
“I agree.” Malcolm nodded.
She smiled at him and continued. “Once the signal is given, one of you must see to it the doors to the great hall and the kitchen are locked. Only the men the Comyn has with him know what is to come. He planned it that way so they can claim it was you and your men who attacked them first.”
A cry of outrage erupted in the small room.
“Let us hear the rest,” Malcolm commanded, and the noise stopped.
“This is where Mairen comes in,” she added, her eyes on Liam.
“I dinna ken your meaning,” Liam said.
“Mairen knows her father’s plan,” she said. “That’s why he keeps her locked in her chamber. He caught her listening as he discussed it with his men shortly after they received word of the edict from King James. He already suspects she has a lover within our ranks. And though he’s not certain, he believes Mairen told us where to find the Comyns who rode on to Nairn after we retook Meikle Geddes.”
“Aye, but that does no’ explain—” Liam began.
She flashed him an exasperated look. “Liam, your king has issued an edict forbidding the clans from fighting amongst themselves. The Red Comyn’s plan is very clever. Not only does he kill all of you, but he casts our entire clan as insurgents.” She glanced at Malcolm. “Your father would have returned to find his only son and nephews slain and his clan disgraced.”
“Och, I ken your meaning. Mairen will provide testimony to the contrary.” Malcolm turned to Liam. “She’ll prove her loyalty to you by doing so, which will ensure her acceptance by our people. How have you come by this information, True? Can we trust it, or are you speculating?”
“When I have a vision, it’s like being a ghost.” She smiled at the sudden flurry of movement as many of the men made the sign of the cross. “I seem to land in the future or the past as needed. I’m free to walk around, listen in on conversations, and explore the grounds. Like Mairen, I gathered the information by listening in while they plotted.” Alethia met each of their looks. None challenged her word. Satisfied, she went back to her diagram.
“Most of you will go through the main entrance. Liam and Galen, here’s where you must enter. Liam, have your man—”
“His man?” Malcolm frowned.
“Yes. Liam planted someone he trusts inside the keep long ago to look out for Mairen and to carry messages between them.” She glared at Malcolm for interrupting. “Liam, have him see to it the small door in the curtain wall is unlocked. And of course, he’ll return here with us.”
“You are no’ coming, lass.” Malcolm scowled.
“Of course not. I only got caught up in the plan.” The heat of a blush rose to her cheeks at her inadvertent slip. “I meant with you,” she muttered.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Wake, mo céile.” Malcolm nudged her.
Alethia stretched and turned to him. “Is it time?”
“Aye.”
She pushed the warm furs back and sat up. Swinging her legs slowly to the floor, she gave herself a few moments to adjust. She’d made Malcolm promise to wake her before he and his men left for the Comyn keep, a day’s ride east of Loch Moigh.
“Go back to sleep, True. ’Tis no’ yet dawn.”
“No. I want to see you off.” She stood up and accepted the robe he offered. Malcolm had already dressed. She stepped into his open arms. His broadsword hung down his back, and a multitude of daggers were hidden all over his body. “Please be careful.”
“Always.”
“Remember everything we talked about when we planned.”
“I will.”
“I love you, Malcolm. Remember that.” She felt the rumble deep in his chest as he chuckled.
“How could I forget?” Lifting her chin, his mouth found hers in a lingering kiss. Stepping back, he ran a knuckle down her cheek. “Best leave now while I’m still able.”
Clutching the front of her robe together, she watched as he walked out the door, waited several seconds to be sure he’d really left, and then rushed to her trunk. She pulled on a pair of jeans and a leather tunic and slip
ped into her moccasins. Next she gathered her bow and the quiver of arrows and retrieved the pouch full of supplies she’d hidden under the mattress.
Wrapped in her wool cloak, Alethia crossed to the door and stuck her head out cautiously. She stepped into the deserted corridor, ran to the garderobe and cursed under her breath about the constant need to visit that particular room.
Near the kitchen, she hid in the shadows, peered inside and waited until backs were turned to slip past and out the back door, taking cover where she could along the path toward shore.
It had been easy enough to secure Ian’s skiff again. She had claimed she wanted to gather healing herbs on the mainland and explore the lake a little. No one had doubted or questioned her request. Her plans were a secret even from Hunter. If anyone had known, they would have stopped her. A pang of guilt sluiced through her for the worry she’d cause.
It was her job save Malcolm’s life, even if it meant putting herself and their child at risk. She could not remain behind knowing what she knew. And trusting someone else to perform the deed was out of the question. Only you can tip the scale, Alethia. Giselle had said the words sealing her fate, and now the time had come. She swallowed her fear and prayed for courage.
When she reached the shore and the hidden skiff, she took deep breaths to slow her racing heart and watched as the ferry loaded with men crossed the lake. She knew where Liam and Galen would split off from the rest of the party. They would approach Castle Rait from the rear. She planned to stay far enough back to escape detection. She’d join them once it was too late to be sent back.
Malcolm would be furious, but he’d be alive. She could bear his fury—not his death.
The ferry landed, sparking a flurry of activity as the men left the village. As soon as they rode over the crest of the first hill, she launched the boat, tossing her things into a heap on the bottom.
Other than a few tense moments trying to avoid detection by the stable master, everything went according to plan. She led Ikwe to a mounting block and climbed onto her back. All she had to do was remain hidden, and everything would be OK. Keeping her mare close to the forest, she stuck to the shadowy regions off the main trail and hung well back.
True to the Highlander (The Novels of Loch Moigh) Page 24