Highland Persuasion (The MacLomain Series- Early Years)

by Sky Purington

  Frustrated, she continued walking, running almost.

  “So ye see her another way now?” Shamus asked, a smile in his voice.

  “The Sinclair is certainly not her rival anymore,” Adlin returned, equal humor in his voice.

  Iosbail ignored their chatter and made her way beyond the rock down into the forest. If Innis was here, Alexander couldn’t be far off. It was hard to imagine the Hebrides chieftain would travel far without him. But what did she know really? Not much. It all depended on what the Sinclair had bargained with when he allowed them their escape.

  It was only when near the field leading to the MacLomain castle that she turned and said to Adlin, “Is Alexander here?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “You know it does.”

  “Then why not say so from the start, lass.”

  “The same could be said of you.” She stood within a foot of her brother. “You’ve played games with me since the minute I went forward in time. I think verra lowly of it.”

  Though young now, his same blue eyes searched hers and she swore she saw compassion.

  “There’s a bargain to be struck,” Adlin said softly.

  “Is Alexander in your castle?” she asked again.

  “Why do ye keep asking, lassie, when even I can sense him?” Shamus asked.

  Iosbail kept staring up into her brother’s eyes. “Simple. I want to see if he can be as honest as he’ll be over a hundred years from now. Or was what I witnessed then just part of the man he’ll become.”

  So angry it hurt she closed her eyes. Of course Alexander was here. She opened her eyes to Adlin’s. “Why is truth so hard for you?”

  Adlin’s jaw clenched and his pupil’s flared. “Truth is something that is rarely mine to give.”

  Iosbail knew he struggled with his devotion to the old gods and the new but when it came to aiding family, no god should take precedence.

  Without giving his response another thought she turned and stared at the MacLomain castle. As always, it seemed a proud and massive structure perched against the darkening sky. The Sinclair was there not as a guest but as a prisoner. Once she set aside the turmoil between her and Adlin, Iosbail saw it clearly.

  “How dare you!” she hissed at her brother and started to run.

  As she neared the drawbridge, Iosbail slowed to a fast walk. When she confronted Innis it would be on her own terms, not Adlin’s. As suspected, everything seemed strained when she entered the courtyard. Instead of barging into the castle she walked through the stables and eyed the horses. Over fifty new steeds were stabled. Then she walked through the armory. Adlin always confiscated weapons. Hundreds of new blades amongst other weapons lined the walls. But Innis and his men would have so much more. Iosbail grabbed a few small blades, left the armory and was heading up the stairs to the main hall when Innis stepped out.

  Their eyes locked.

  Iosbail didn’t bat a lash but strode up the stairs, her voice loud and stern. “You dare imprison my husband in my own castle!”

  “Is this your castle then?” Innis said smugly.

  Without hesitation she pulled free a blade and whipped it directly at his head. One of his men threw up a blade and effectively stopped the weapon. Stride strong, she took two more stairs and whipped another. This too was stopped by another man’s blade. With a few final hops she landed in front of Innis, a blade in hand but not to his throat. Eyes narrowed she said, “You shame even the lowliest of highlanders.”

  Innis looked down his long nose, his black devilish brows rising. “Do I then? You didnae take down a man with your weapons.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Two men lay on the steps behind her. Down at last by not her blade but by her magic.

  “Why bother with the blade if you’ve your magic once more?” Innis asked, unimpressed.

  Iosbail grinned with pure malice. “Because it just felt good.”

  “They’re guests,” Adlin said loosely. “Forgive her impetuousness, Laird Innis.”

  The MacLeon Laird kept his eyes locked with hers. “If ‘tis a means to an end what are a few men lost?”

  About to launch at the swine, Iosbail was surprised to find Shamus usher her past him into the great hall. His whisper was urgent in her ear. “I’m here for my friend, as should you be, lassie.”

  She pulled free from the Irishman. “This is my home and yet here you and Adlin are trying to make right with the enemy. Tell me, where is our friend, Shamus? Because if I had my way he’d be comfortably chambered upstairs bathed and well fed!”

  Furious, she didn’t wait for a response but headed for a place she’d never been before… the dungeons. Beneath the second staircase the dungeon stairs awaited. Pressing past the first barred door she started to travel down. Long and dank the descent reminded her much of the treacherous route they’d taken to the Stonehenge in the Hebrides minus the roaring ocean below. Instead, the drop was dark and echoing.

  She grabbed the first torch from its bracket and continued.

  Iosbail had several thoughts as she made her way down. The most pressing, why had she never explored down here? She’d investigated every tucked away room and hall, every wall walk that made up the MacLomain castle. Her second thought was far darker and born of what she saw as the stairs continued down.

  How could the MacLomains ever have subjected any prisoner to this?

  No sooner had she made it to the bottom of the stairs when she saw him. Torches burned on either side of Alexander so Iosbail found a spare bracket for hers. Strung up by the arms, his legs still seemed to support him. He wore the MacLomain plaid around his waist, nothing else.

  “’Tis too cold, even for you,” she whispered.

  When his head rose she found his face to be better intact than she’d anticipated. Though his upper cheek was bruised, the Sinclair looked fairly good.

  “You’re here,” he croaked.

  “Aye.” She took his cheeks in her hands. “So are you it seems.”

  “Thirsty,” he whispered.

  “Nothing I can do for that.”

  Iosbail focused on the feel of his skin against her palms. He wasn’t feverish, just tired.

  “There,” he whispered and looked over her shoulder.

  Iosbail glanced in the corner. Surprised, she saw a skin on the ground leaning against the wall.

  “I’ll be right back.” Iosbail gently released his head and retrieved the offering. Not thinking twice she took a deep swig and swallowed. If anyone meant to kill the Sinclair they’d go through her first. Even though her magic told her the water was good she needed to be sure. While she waited to see if the fluid was poisoned she stroked his hair back from his face.

  When convinced it was safe, she tipped back his head and held the skin to his lips. Once he’d had his fill she poured some water over his upper chest and spread it over his shoulders and neck. “How long have you been here?”

  Already, he looked better and his voice stronger when he said, “Not long. A few days at most.”

  Iosbail was surprised how content she felt when she looked into his gray eyes. More than that, she was shocked at how her muscles seemed to unlock. How tense had she truly been? She wet her hands again and ran them over his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

  Alexander clenched his jaw. His eyes turned that sharp silver hue that said his emotions were high. “Verra angry, lass. Innis is nay as honorable as he seemed.”

  Iosbail huffed. “Did ye for a moment imagine he was?”

  “’Tis my hope honor is at the heart of all men. At least a small part.”

  “Then you’re a fool,” Iosbail said. “For more reasons than one. What did you promise the man to allow him to release the rest of us from the Hebrides? And why are you now imprisoned in my brother’s castle?”

  “What does it matter?”

  With her magic intact, Iosbail sensed new things about Alexander. There was a power about him that felt different. “You are more than what I thought you.”


  “Not entirely sure how I should take that, lass.”

  Water skin set aside she put her hands on either side of his torso. Though she truly appreciated the muscular cut of his body something else made her magic hum… something very interesting and ancient. Eyes closed, she slowly ran her fingers up his stomach and over his chest then up his arms so far as she could reach. On the underside of his arms she stopped. The fingertips of her right hand tingled and a bright light flared within her vision.

  “Alba,” she whispered. Her eyes shot open and she stared at the mark on his skin. Iosbail’s eyes flew to his. “You’re of Pict royalty!”

  Steady, his eyes met hers. “I’m one of the last of the royal line. ‘Tis the only reason I have to be thankful I was born a Sinclair royal bastard. Their very arrogance protected my Ma’s heritage.”

  “Nay, you’re no bastard,” she murmured softly. “How did I not know this when first I saw you so long ago?” she whispered.

  His eyes narrowed, less interested in the first thing she’d said but the second. “When was that?”

  Iosbail’s mind was in such twists that she didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud. “When was what?”

  “That you saw me so long ago.”

  “I didnae say such.”

  “Aye, you did just a moment ago.”

  Iosbail shrugged but saw that it was already too late. Though she may consider him her enemy she never doubted his intelligence. Strangely enough he didn’t seem to be calling on his magic as he peered at her. She imagined he wasn’t able to anyways being bound by not only chains but by what she recognized as Adlin’s magic.

  “Tell me, Iosbail.”

  Interestingly enough, had it been a week prior and he’d been imprisoned when he asked this very question she’d gladly spit the answer in his face. A strange rippling burn squeezed her chest. Wasn’t it a week ago that she wanted the Sinclair in the very position in which she now found him? Well, perhaps not this exact position. She’d wanted to destroy his whole clan, every last Sinclair. She licked her suddenly dry lips. When exactly had she stopped feeling that way? Because she so obviously had. Why else would she be standing in this dungeon trying to save the man’s life?

  Somehow all the vengeance she’d felt over her friend’s death had slowly melted away. It was hard not to feel shame at that moment. Aye, the Sinclair’s had been very wrong when they tried to take land from her clan. Yet, was that any different than what all the clans did to one another daily in this country?

  Alexander’s eyes drifted slowly down her body before they once more met hers, shocked and pained…betrayed. He whispered, “’Twas you.”

  Iosbail blinked away unexpected tears and shook her head. “You dinnae ken.”

  Rage filled his eyes and turned them a bleak, stormy gray. “All along it was you. The lass I saw so long ago, the Broun who seduced the king. How did I not realize sooner?”

  Unfamiliar with the emotions coursing through her Iosbail said, “I’d have done anything for my clan.”

  Iosbail jumped back when he launched forward. Held back by the chains, his muscles strained. Furious he spat, “You lay with me after you’d been with him, the Sassenach king. William the Conqueror was Scotland’s enemy, my parents his fools. And you allowed him between your thighs. What sort of lass are you?”

  Iosbail felt no need to explain her reasoning from so long ago. Instead, bitter feelings arose sharply and she shoved a finger against his hard chest, eyes wild. “Was it you? Did you travel back in time to kill my dear friend before my verra own eyes? Aye, and yet another one of my lovers!”

  Alexander growled, his face contorted in hurt and rage. “To think I cared for you.” He struggled against the chains. “You’re nothing but a monster and manipulator, a user.”

  “At least I dinnae slay my enemies before they see me coming.”

  “Nay, you wear them down slowly with pure poison.”

  “I do what I need to in order to survive. And above all else, I do for my clan.”

  “As do I but without hurting so many along the way.”

  Iosbail hated the taste in her mouth. More than that, she hated the way he looked at her. Regardless, now was a time for all truths. “Tell me who so brutally killed my friend or I will kill you now where you stand.”

  An eerie, heart wrenching calm surrounded the Sinclair. “Then do so, lass because I’ve nothing to tell you. Do you think me capable of what you speak?” Alexander leaned as far against his restraints as he could. “I’m no killer save to protect. You’ve seen it all along. You’ve known it all along. I would never murder out of revenge.”

  Iosbail clenched her teeth. Though she knew he spoke only truth she felt betrayed not by his words but by her own actions. She felt betrayed because all along she’d been going after the wrong man. Alexander had become the face of the Sinclair’s when in truth he was the best of the lot. This man was far better than the clan from which he thought he came. Yet in this moment reason meant little.

  “Show me you’re sorry for what you’ve done in the past. Free me,” Alexander ground out.

  Pride reared its head. “I’m not sorry. I protected my own and I willnae ever be sorry for that.”

  Even as she said it she knew it a lie. Iosbail had never been sorrier in her life.

  Alexander leaned back against the wall and looked down at her, expression turning to granite. “All along you targeted me. Somehow you knew that I’d seen you with the king and I struck you as yet another lad you could manipulate. How has that gone so far?” Loathing crawled into his eyes. “Tell me, which cock did you prefer?”

  “I never took him into me!” she suddenly screamed. Iosbail gasped for air but it was hard to find. She put a hand over her chest and shook her head. “’Twas how I got him to do as I asked… I never took him into me but promised more if he only did what I asked.”

  A sob raked her but still she said, “I should have. Perhaps then no Broun land would’ve been given away and somehow all of this would’ve been avoided. Perhaps I could have persuaded the king to grant the Sinclair’s other lands. My dear friend wouldn’t have lost his life within a blink.” She tried to catch her breath. “I wouldn’t have the anger. You wouldn’t have the anger. None of this would’ve existed. The Broun’s and Sinclair’s would never have been enemies,” she whispered.

  Powerful emotion clogged her ability to speak and she crouched, holding her head.

  Silence fell. All that could be heard were the faint drops where the moat dripped into the dungeon and the torch spit small flames.

  In all her long years, Iosbail had never felt so strongly. It alarmed and frightened her. Without saying another word she fled the chamber and rushed up the stairs. Though dark it was easy enough to find her way. Nevermind magic, the basic need for escape made for sharp senses. Only when she’d reentered the main hall did she stop to catch her breath. People bustled about obviously preparing for something.

  “How are you lass?”

  Iosbail jumped at the sound of Adlin’s voice.

  Her brother leaned against the wall in full Highland regalia from the MacLomain plaid right down to the boots. He was dressed to represent his clan.

  Hurt, angry, confused, she didn’t hesitate but slapped his cheek as hard as she could. “Why is he imprisoned?”

  Adlin touched his cheek but didn’t get upset. “’Twas the only way lass. While the MacLeon admires the lad he had to be shown discipline. Have you any idea how important Innis’s tribe really is to Scotland?”

  “Not so important that a good man should be shackled so a bad man can set an example.”

  Adlin took her hand and led her up the back stairs. “Let us go talk where ears cannae listen.”

  Though she tried to pull her hand free, it was useless. When they arrived on a small wall walk tucked away on the backside of the castle he let go. Though protected from the wind the loch below made obvious a storm brewed. Unsettled, small white tipped waves formed. Overhead, the
almost dark sky felt oppressive.

  Before she could speak, Adlin said, “Innis has a great deal of respect for Alexander’s Pict lineage. He willnae hurt him.”

  “He already has. I see the bruises and Alexander is in your dungeon.” Iosbail shook her head. “And if he knew of Alexander’s lineage why put us through everything he did on his isle. Ahh, to once more show what his clan needed to see?”

  Adlin looked at her as though she were daft. “You well know the Sinclair possesses strong magic. Do you think him so weak that he’d allow Innis to see who he really was?”

  Iosbail rounded her eyes. “Innis is as powerful as you and like us he’s immortal. Naturally he knew the right of Alexander from the start!”

  “It seems you underestimate the lad you’ve grown so fond of. Innis saw no such thing until moments before you left the Hebrides. What do you think Alexander bargained with dear sister?”

  She shook her head and leaned against the railing overlooking the loch. “I’ve not a clue. Even he does not know who he really is.”

  Adlin leaned against the railing beside her and looked out over the water. “’Twas not necessary. He bargained with a clan far more valuable to him than the Sinclair’s. Alexander was willing to risk his Ma’s clan to save who he considered his friends.”

  Iosbail felt that same squeeze on her heart as she turned and looked down on the water. It took several long seconds for her to say, “What exactly did he bargain?”

  “Better yet, who.” Adlin looked skyward and seemed to say a prayer. “He meant to offer up the MacAlpine.”

  “Kenneth MacAlpine, first rightful king of Scotland? King of the Picts,” she said, incredulous. “Nay, he’d never. Surely you’re wrong.”

  Adlin’s eyes shone a dangerous, magical intense blue when they looked her way. “I’ve the chieftain of the Hebrides, fifty men stronger than he needs, in my castle as we speak. Nothing I say is anything but truth. Your Sinclair has gained his interest, enough so to bring him through time to me.”

  “He’s not my Sinclair,” she muttered. Had Alexander really done such a thing? Iosbail watched as lightning lit the horizon. Aye, but he’d done such a thing. How could she doubt it for a moment?