Stepping back, she pulled her sword. "Perhaps I'll kill you now and be done with it." The briefest flash of a thought ran across her mind, but it came and went so fast it didn't remain long enough to create caution. She had said herself she couldn't fight the Black Wolf and win, but at that moment she didn't care. Never had she been so angry. Emotions churned inside her. She waited, but Blackstone made no move to draw his own weapon.
"I will not fight a woman."
His words were soft, unlike the fire that sparked in his eyes. Kolyn replied in the same gentle voice. "Draw your sword, or I'll cut you down where you stand." Still, he made no move. Kolyn didn't stop to consider what she was implying. It no longer mattered. If she must, she would murder him.
Ian just stood there, stunned. From the look on the woman's face, she meant it. She meant to fight him. Admiration gentled his anger. "Be sensible, Kolyn." "I am the MacGregor, and I challenge you. Does the Black Wolf accept or not?" She was pressing him, pushing him against a wall with no way out. To deny the challenge would be cowardly. To accept and fight a woman would make him unworthy of his own code of honor. "I will not fight you."
"Coward," she hissed.
It rankled Ian, but he would not take the bait. He turned to leave. Kolyn attacked, her cry as unnerving as that of any Highlander he had encountered. He twisted and pulled his sword, intending only to disarm her. Their blades
came together, clashing with the force of each swinging arm. In one quick jerk, Kolyn's weapon was dislodged from her hand. It landed with a thud somewhere in the soot and ash that surrounded them.
Yet Kolyn was not to be stopped. When Ian glanced away to see what Geoffrey was about, she lunged at him. His instincts took control, and he brought his hand up, piercing Kolyn's shoulder with the tip of his sword. This stilled her attack. "Damn it, woman. I could have killed you. Don't you understand that? This isn't a game, and it's time you stopped this tantrum of yours."
As if on cue, lightning lit the black sky, quickly followed by thunder. Rain splattered down. The storm echoed the emotions that warred within Kolyn's heart. "I hate you Blackstone. I will see you dead." Had he heard her threat? She couldn't be sure. He merely walked over to his horse and mounted. The other man leaned closer to hear what he was saying, then rode off, leaving Blackstone behind.
He looked back where she stood and hollered above the rain beating down on them, "You're mad, and I'll not fight you, Kolyn MacGregor." "I'm not mad!" Kolyn screamed at him as he rode away. "I'm not mad, you son of a . . ." Her curses trailed off when she realized he could not hear her. Wasting no time, she found her mount and followed.
It was difficult to keep him in sight, his steed carrying him with great speed. Storm clouds covered the moon, blocking the light it had given her earlier, making the ride dangerous. She would not give in to the elements. The anger inside her churned into a mighty force she could not deny, pushing her faster and harder.
He thought she was mad!
A dull ache finally reached her mind, an insistent throbbing reminding her she was wounded. Still, she did not let up. It wasn't until they were well into the forest that Kolyn realized the terrain had changed. Her horse slowed its pace, and she hung on with all the strength she had left. Cold numbed her, keeping her from feeling the limbs tearing at her from the never-ending wall of trees that surrounded her.
It was several moments before she realized she no longer knew where Blackstone was. It was too dark to find her way, let alone find him. Regretfully, Kolyn pulled her horse to a stop and wearily slid from his back. When her legs touched the earth they refused to hold her, and she fell.
She trembled, as much from the cold as from the loss of blood. Every part of her body hurt, but her shoulder was on fire. Unable to stand, Kolyn crawled to find a spot that might provide protection from the rain. She rolled beneath some heavy ferns and curled up into a ball for warmth.
Weariness overtook her, but she did not close her eyes. Something kept her alert. Finally, she saw the animal. His golden eyes glowed in the darkness, shining like small suns against a black sky. She recognized the black wolf. Stories flashed through her thoughts, tales of the Black Wolf her father and brothers had frightened her with. She recalled her first encounter with the wolf and quickly discounted the legend. Why didn't she believe her father and brothers? Had they used the wild tales merely to perpetuate the feud, to support the hatred they clung to so righteously?
Her eyelids fluttered closed but she forced them open, trying to stay alert against their stronger will. They drooped, defying her intention. "I hope that I am right, that you are my friend and not my foe. You protected my son, now I must trust you as I sleep. I pray it is God's wisdom that has given me this thought."
Chapter Six
Ian moved through the darkened forest with ease, the trail he followed familiar. Anger surged inside him, firing his blood. He couldn't believe the nerve of the woman. She actually had expected him to fight her. She must be crazed. Mad! Yes, he decided. She was mad.
The terrain became steeper and his mount carefully picked its way along the rocky path, which twisted and turned. They climbed continuously, finally arriving at a stone cottage nestled in the trees on the mountainside. Smoke drifted up and curled before disappearing into the dark sky. Geoffrey had already arrived. Ian eased from the saddle. He led his horse to the lean-to attached to the house.
''I thought you would come up here, to work the anger out."
Ian finished pouring the bucket of oats into the feeder before he turned to face his friend. "She must be mad, Geoff. I don't know what to do with the woman." "Aye, she does pose a problem." Geoffrey and Ian walked into the cottage in silence. Ian stood by the fire and watched the flames take hold of the dry wood. Geoffrey sat upon a bench at the trestle table.
"You were right not to fight her. You cannot fight a woman, even if she is the clan chief" "I've never seen such anger in a woman's eyes." "Her father and brothers have passed on a legacy of hate, a feud of honor they couldn't finish. This is a heavy burden for a woman to carry in her heart." "Aye," Ian mumbled, his mind recalling the MacGregor as she stood facing him, defiant and angry. The remaining anger eased from him, and he laughed. "She looked quite ugly. She looked manly in those pants."
Geoffrey laughed too. "There wasn't an inch of the lass that wasn't covered in soot. It will take her many washin's to scrub the filth from her." "I don't think it will help much." Ian grinned, still amused by his vision of the MacGregor. "She's a homely maiden in need of a man to put her mind right and to give her other things to think about than killing me."
This brought a frown to Geoffrey's face. "Do you think she really wants t' kill you, Ian?" "I've no doubt, my friend. No doubt at all."
Kolyn opened her eyes and saw a woman sitting beside her. Confusion played havoc with her muddled mind. She looked about, trying to determine where she was. It was all unfamiliar. A large, stone fireplace dominated a single wall of the small room, a table and benches placed in the center. A rocker sat near the fire and a worn sideboard braced one wall. The outside door was next to a large old chest.
The woman was young, yet a hard life had left its marks upon her face. She was getting close to childbirth, her extended belly obvious as she reached to wipe Kolyn's brow. Her touch was gentle, soothing. Kolyn liked the kindness in her dark brown eyes, the look on her small, round face. She trusted her.
"Where am I?" Kolyn whispered, her voice hoarse and dry. The woman pulled back in surprise. "Thank the Lord," she whispered, tears shining in her eyes. Kolyn smiled. "I think I owe thanks more to you than the Lord." The woman looked horrified at first, then smiled. "It wouldn't hurt to thank the Lord too. You've been terribly ill."
"I feel as if I'm dead." You came close, lass." Kolyn closed her eyes, weary beyond description. "I am grateful for . . ." were the last words she spoke as she drifted into sleep once more.
"Perhaps she has realized the futility of the feud, Ian. It's been over two weeks since the grana
ry fire."
Ian looked up from the rose he carefully trimmed of thorns and shrugged at his mother's statement. The flower's scent was sweet, but today it brought him no pleasure. The garden, usually a source of comfort and peace, could not help him. Over and over he continued to relive the ugly scene at the fire. "Perhaps. But somehow, I think not. I saw the look in her eyes plainly."
Ainsley took the rose and added it to her basket, already overflowing with beautiful buds. "It could be that Kolyn MacGregor is much like this rose. Once the thorns are removed, she is harmless. Your encounter has removed her thorns." "I harmed a woman with my sword," Ian said with disgust. He worked on the bush, trimming away dry, faded blooms. "You . . ." His mother laid her hand upon his, stopping him. Ian turned to look into her eyes.
"You had no intention of harming her. Surely you do not blame yourself for what happened." I do. I should have more control of my temper."
"And what of her temper?" Ainsley asked. "You cannot be responsible for her anger and her actions. It was her own doing that caused her injury. Besides, you said it was but a scratch." Ian said nothing. "The roses are beautiful this year. If only your father could see them." Ainsley caressed the velvety petals with reverence. "He did love his roses."
"I remember him best right here in his garden." Ian's voice had taken on a soft, longing tone. "Yes." she smiled, remembering too her husband's love of flowers. "When we married he vowed he could leave England behind as long as he could have me and his roses."
"My men find it amusing that I tend his garden." "Does that trouble you, Ian?" This time he smiled. "'Tis no trouble. We all must have some sort of amusement. I'm glad to be theirs." They walked up the path that would from the castle into the gardens Blackstone had created. They paused before going inside. Ainsley looked up at her son, towering above her petite form.
"What sort of amusement do you allow yourself, Ian?" A shadow descended over his face, his eyes becoming hard and unreadable. "I've plenty to amuse myself. You needn't worry yourself, Mother."
She understood his way of keeping his heart closed to her. Someday he would allow her in so she might share his pain. "That's good, Ian. That's good," she said. Someday.
Kolyn walked to the small shed where the cow and horse were kept, the scent of hay and animals drifting to her. It was pleasant. She saw Daniel, the son of the couple who had taken her in and had tended her. The little boy brushed his horse, his strokes loving and gentle. Kolyn guessed him to be eight, maybe nine. He looked up when Kolyn approached, her steps slow and shaky.
"'Tis good t' see you up and about, miss." "I have you to thank for that, young man. If you hadn't found me, I would have died." He smiled, blushing at her praise. "I dinna ken how I found you. You were curled beneath some ferns, hidden from view." "I am very glad you did."
They were silent for a moment, each at ease with the other. Kolyn spoke first. "Could I ask another favor?"
"Anythin', miss."
"I need to get a message to someone. To Father McCloud in the village at Gregor Castle. Can you do this?"
"Aye, I can go tomorrow, miss."
My name is Lynn." Kolyn felt a twinge of guilt at not being totally honest with the boy, but she was uncertain where this family's loyalties lay. Again he smiled. "'Tis a pleasure, Lynn, miss."
This made Kolyn laugh. "Mine too, Daniel, sir." "There you are," his mother, Jean, called out, walking toward them, drying her hands on her apron. "I needed some fresh air," Kolyn offered, seeing the look of worry upon Jean's brow.
She nodded. "Aye. The cottage can get cramped and gloomy. My husband has filled our tub. I thought you might enjoy a bath." Kolyn pulled at her filthy hair and grinned. "Do you think I can possibly get the grime washed away?"
"Aye, but it will take the two of us, I'm afraid. Daniel, your father is waiting to go huntin'. Find us a plump bird for the pot."
Kolyn and Jean watched Daniel scurry off in search of his father, his face bright with exuberance. Kolyn could see a mother's pride on Jean's face, her hand folded and resting upon her belly. She was dressed in a simple wool dress, her feet bare, her brown hair neatly pulled back into a braid that fell down her back. It was the gentleness of her eyes that made Kolyn feel welcome and at home. Ronald and Jean were strangers, perhaps even her enemies, but Kolyn felt no fear. She trusted the couple, and so far they had asked no questions of her.
"I have a dress you can wear if you'd like. As you can see, I am unable to wear it." "You've been most kind."
Jean shook her head, then took Kolyn's arm to walk back to the cottage, making certain to give her support should she need it. "I find it a pleasure havin' another woman's company." "Isn't it dangerous, living so far from the villages?"
"No one bothers with us." Jean stepped inside the cottage, her hand sweeping about to make her point. "We've little enough for thieves to take." "It is peaceful here." "Aye. Ronald and I have chosen to live away from the feudin'. The troubles of others are no business of ours." Kolyn smiled, understanding her meaning. "You are both good people. I shall always remember your kindness."
Jean moved to the fireplace and removed the large kettle, then poured the bubbling water into the small, wooden tub that sat in the center of the floor. "That should make it plenty hot for you, lass." She set the kettle aside and moved to stand beside Kolyn. "Here, let's get them filthy clothes off you."
Kolyn allowed Jean to help her undress, her strength failing her after the short foray to the shed. The tenderness of her hurt shoulder seemed to keep her an invalid. So for the moment, she gave in to Jean's mothering.
The water was heaven, the warmth seeping into Kolyn's sore muscles. It felt wonderful to let Jean wash the soot and dirt from her stringy hair. The steam drifted about her, her mind relaxing, her eyes closing. Then they were there. Golden eyes watched her, studied her. Kolyn jerked, swinging at the air with her fist. "What is it, Lynn?"
Jean's question penetrated Kolyn's sudden anger, and she took a deep breath. "Nothing," she lied, quickly covering up her distress. "Here, wrap up in this before you catch your death." Jean bundled Kolyn up when she stood, then sat her before the fire.
Kolyn started to brush the tangles from her hair, but found it difficult with her sore arm. Gently, Jean took the brush from her. "Let me, before you tear it out by the roots." Putting her mind on other things, Kolyn made idle chatter. Anything to put the golden eyes of the Black Wolf from her. "How far along are you, Jean?"
"Nearin' my eighth month. Won't be long now." Kolyn couldn't hold her head up. She found it difficult to concentrate. "Do you want a girl or another boy?" "You need to get back to bed, lass. You're tired out." Jean helped Kolyn to stand. "A little girl would be nice, but I'll be happy if God blesses me with a healthy child." She tucked Kolyn into the bed. Kolyn fell to sleep immediately.
Chapter Seven
Only a soft spray of light touched the sky, the early morning hour cloaking Kolyn and Ronald in darkness. A hard November frost cloaked the trees and road, casting the world in a chilling white blanket. The wagon lurched and bumped over the rough road, and they did not try to speak above the noise. Kolyn welcomed the sense of solitude.
Her mind dwelled on the day to come. When Ronald mentioned the night before he would be going to the village the next morning to deliver the tables and benches he had made for the innkeeper, she had asked to go along. Jean had fretted, saying she was not well enough for the long trip. Kolyn was not to be swayed, a strange determination claiming her. What did she hope to accomplish by going? The village lay at the base of Blackstone's castle . . . enemy territory. Yet something made her want to go, and she followed that feeling.
Slowly the day dawned, as did her doubts. With the light of day came apprehension about what she was doing. Still, she was determined. She must learn about the Black Wolf; then she could kill him. Kolyn made her plan. Ronald maneuvered the wagon past the vendors and stalls that lined the busy streets. It took most of the morning to get to the village, and he wasted no tim
e pulling up to The Raven. Kolyn knew Ronald wanted to turn around and start home as soon as he could, his worry about leaving Jean alone too long apparent. He was a quiet man, a man of few words. But the love the couple shared was obvious to Kolyn. It was a love she envied, a love she longed for.
Kolyn brought her thoughts to a halt, surprised at the path her mind wandered on. She climbed down from the wagon, her legs numb from the long miles they had traveled without stopping. She followed Ronald inside. The tavern was busy, most of the tables full of patrons. Kolyn scanned the room, then turned away when she found herself the center of attention. The owner was easy to find, a burley man with an apron tied about his rounded belly. He seemed glad to see Ronald, and quickly disappeared to the back room.
''You'd best have a seat while I help Mr. McNeil unload."
She looked up at Ronald and smiled. "I think I've sat long enough. I'll stand while I have the opportunity." "Damned women," cursed the innkeeper, returning. "Me wife's gone t' the market and who know's what that girl Leslie's about." "Probably still abed, she is," said a man who stood nearby "'Tis always abed, that lass."
The innkeeper's face puckered as everyone laughed. Kolyn was embarrassingly aware of their joke.
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