“I doubt The MacDonough will allow you your sport, Sheena,” Niall said. One of his moments of maturity was upon him.
“Diana say that, little brother, or I’ll no’ agree to the vows,” she said sharply.
Sheena dived into the crystal‑clear water and came up in time to hear Niall call down to her, “Do you have a choice, Sheena?”
She frowned. Did she? Her father was firmly set on Alasdair MacDonough. He had heartily agreed to the match because MacDonoughs, who lived halfway between the Fergussons and the MacKinnions, were at peace with the MacKinnions and could help Dugald sue for peace.
She had met Sir Alasdair for the first time on the day they were betrothed, so she knew little about him. He was pleasing to look upon and not nearly as old as William, although not as young as she would have liked, either. He was about thirty‑three years old. Her father was undoubtedly trying to please her by choosing a young, personable husband. She was sure of that‑and just as sure that he hadn’t detected the arrogance of The MacDonough. She had seen it, though, and knew he was unbearably self‑centered. He would probably put restrictions on her, and his pride would demand she conform.
Sheena bristled. “ ‘Tis no’ nice of you to remind me of my plight, Niall Fergusson,” she called up to him, piqued. “I dinna see you facing anything so loathsome as marriage to a stranger.”
“Nay, but Father has threatened to send me to an English court the next time I get into trouble. He says I’m too old to be pulling pranks and breaking rules.”
“Aye, and so you are.”
“So what am I doing here, I ask you?”
“Protecting me, just as I’ll protect you from Father if we’re found out. Dinna fash yourself, Niall. He’ll no’ send you away for something so harmless.”
“Risking your life is no’ harmless, Sheena,” Niall retorted. “Do hurry.”
He threw down her soap as a hint, and Sheena saw she wouldn’t get a long swim. She began to wash herself, frowning at her own thoughtlessness. Niall really was terrified of being sent away to a court full of strangers, and English strangers at that. She knew it, yet she risked their father’s wrath for a few moments of her own pleasure. It wasn’t right. Niall came with her to the glen only because he loved her. If she got him in trouble because of it, she’d never forgive herself.
“I’ll make it up to you, Niall. The next time you get into trouble, I’ll take the blame. I used to, remember.”
“Yes, I know you did.”
“What can Father do to me when I’m to be married in two months?”
“Give you a taste of the taws.”
“Och, he wouldna. I’m too old for the leather strap. Dinna worry about being sent away, Niall. But once I’m married and gone, you’re on your own, laddie.”
“I’ll be raiding then, as Father promised. That’ll be enough adventure to keep me out of trouble.”
“You sound as if you look forward to raiding,” Sheena said, shocked.
“Raiding the MacKinnions, yes. I’d give anything to meet The MacKinnion himself.”
Sheena gasped. “Are you daft, Niall? He’d chop off your head. He’s a mean one, and no mistake.”
“I dinna believe all the stories about him.”
“He’s a thieving murderer! Have you forgotten six of our clan have died these last months?”
“And a like number of his clan, no doubt, since Father was honor‑bound to raid them, as well. But you canna deny he’s brave, Sheena, the bravest man we know of.”
“I dinna deny he’s bold, but you dinna have to be praising him.”
“I respect his courage.”
“Respect him all you like, just pray you never meet the man, or you’ll be respecting him from your place inside a coffin.”
Sheena finished her bath, left the pool, and wrung out her hair to braid it. As she donned her clothes, Niall spoiled the pleasant day by announcing, “cousin William returns today.”
Sheena’s eyes closed in dread. “Are you sure?”
“Aye.”
“You’ve got to stay close to me, Niall. Please. If he ` finds me alone, he’ll start his threats again.”
“You managed to avoid him after he threatened the MacKinnion match.”
“Aye. And fortunately Father decided on The MacDonough while Willie was away, and’twas arranged ‘afore he returned.”
“You want Sir Alasdair then?”
“Better him than William. But I’m no’ married yet,” she pointed out. “There’s still time for our cousin to cause trouble. I fear he’s very bitter and would do it for spite.”
“Why don’t you just tell Father?”
Sheena shook her head firmly. “William would only deny it. He’d say I wanted revenge for some imagined slight. Father might believe him, for he knows I despise William. And he trusts him. William was Mother’s favorite cousin.”
Sheena could have bitten her tongue. Why had she mentioned their mother? She had died a few days after Niall’s birth, and he foolishly blamed himself. It upset him to talk of her. Sheena had never been close to her mother, being her father’s pride and joy, but Niall had never known her at all.
“I’m sorry, Niall. Come on, we’d best be getting home ‘afore the sun gets much higher.”
They had just safely reentered the tower house and gone around back to the kitchens when the commotion started. The patrol returned at a tearing gallop with an unconscious prisoner. Word spread through the house like quicksilver that the man captured was a MacKinnion.
That night, Dugald Fergusson was in his glory. He had a MacKinnion in his dungeon who could be ransomed for the return of all the Fergusson livestock taken that summer. Just in time for market, too. It would be a prosperous year after all.
Killing the man was never considered. That would be suicide, bringing the whole MacKinnion clan down on them. To kill a man in a fair fight was one thing. To kill a prisoner was something entirely different.
Sheena slept that night with no thought for the man in the dungeon. William MacAfee was on her mind‑and conceiving ways of avoiding him while he was a guest in the tower.
Niall slept not at all, for he could think of nothing else‑but the man in the dungeon. A MacKinnion, a real live MacKinnion!
Chapter 5
JAMES MacKinnion woke with a terrible ache in his head. There was a bump the size of an egg on e back of his skull. His eyes opened, seeing nothing but blackness. He decided to keep them closed against the pain. It was too much effort just yet to wonder where he was, or even if he might be blind. But the ache throbbed so badly that he couldn’t drift back to sleep. Slowly, he became aware of things.
The coldness against his cheek was hard earth. The smell around him was stagnant. The tickling over his bare knees was from bugs, or wore. He sat up to swipe the pests away, but the pain shot through his head, and he lay back down ever so gently.
Where he was was beginning to disturb him. The last thing he could remember was being surrounded by Fergussons who had seemed to come out of thin air. But the truth was he had not been watching his back, but had had his eyes on the pool in the glen where he had once seen that beautiful young girl. If he had not been off his horse, waiting there like a fool for her to appear, he wouldn’t have been surrounded and struck over the head before he could even draw his sword.
So. He was captured. The smell and the dampness began to make sense. A dungeon, no doubt in Tower Esk. Jamie almost laughed. There was no fool like a stupid fool, and he was certainly that. He had acted like a lovesick boy, coming to that glen more than a dozen times in the last months, hoping just to see the girl one more time. Yet that wasn’t the whole truth. He had hoped also to learn who she was. But she had never appeared. No doubt, as he had once supposed, she was a beggar passing through. He would never see her again.
He had ridden here alone, as he had the other times. Not even his brother knew where he had gone, for he had admitted his obsession with the girl to no one. It would be several days be
fore his brother would begin to worry. Even then, no one would guess he was in a Fergusson dungeon.
How many days would he have to spend here before old Dugald let him go? Oh, Jamie had no doubt that he would be let go. Dugald couldn’t afford to keep any MacKinnion prisoner. Even if he found out who Jamie really was, he would have to let him go.
The creaking of wood above alerted Jamie. He was no longer alone. But if he hadn’t heard the trapdoor opening, he would have doubted his senses when a pixielike voice whispered, “Are you really a MacKinnion?”
The voice had no body. All was still pitch black. Cold, fresh air poured down on Jamie, and he welcomed it and breathed his fill before he answered, “I dinna talk to a body I canna see.”
“I dare no’ bring a light. Someone might see.”
“Well, you’d best go then,” Jamie said with a touch of humor. “It wouldna do for you to be seen talking to a MacKinnion.”
“Then you really are?”
Jamie didn’t answer. The trapdoor was quickly closed, then. opened again a few minutes later. A small round head with a thatch of dark red hair peeked over tile narrow opening in the ceiling. Dim light from a candle spilled down into what Jamie could see was a deep‑ pit. The dungeon was about seven feet round, just a pit dug in the earth, its floor packed down lard. The dirt walls might have been climbed, but the trapdoor was in the middle of the ceiling, anti, ever. if reached, it was undoubtedly kept bolted.
Jamie had seen dungeons like it before. They were convenient because ?no guard was needed. They were impossible to escape from. He would have preferred a stone dungeon. At least the air wouldn’t have been as stagnant, and he might have had a little light.
“You didna eat your food.”
Jamie sat up slowly and leaned back against the wall, a hand to his head to hold back the pain. “I dinna see any food.”
“In the sack, over there by you.” The boy pointed. “They just drop it down. ‘Tis bound so the bugs dinna get it ‘afore you do.”
“How thoughtful,” Jamie replied tonelessly as he grabbed the sack and opened it. There was a chunk of oatbread and half of a small heathcock‑‑fine for a peasant, but he was used to better. “If this is all that’s allotted a prisoner, it looks as if I’ll have to be escaping in order to get a decent meal.”
“You’re no’ a guest, you know,” the lad said stiffly.
“But I’ll be treated as one if I’m no’ to grow bitter over my confinement,” Jamie replied casually, as though arrogance came naturally to him. “Old Dugald wouldna care for my anger, I can assure you.”
“Och, but you’re a bold one to be talking of revenge from where you sit.”
“And who is it I’m talking to?”
“‘Niall Fergusson.”
“I’ve no doubt you’re a Fergusson, but which one?”
“I’m Dugald’s son.”
“The young laird, eh?” Jamie was surprised. “You’re a wee one, to be sure.”
“I’m thirteen,” Niall said indignantly.
“Are you now? Aye, I’ve heard The Fergusson tried often enough to get you ‘afore you finally came along.” Jamie chuckled. Then he groaned as his head throbbed again.
“Are you hurt?” Niall asked with genuine concern.
“Just a wee bump.”
Niall fell silent as the prisoner tore apart the bird and began to eat. It was a large man he was looking down on, wrapped in a green and gold plaid with two rows of triple black stripes. His legs were long and hard‑muscled, his chest wide. The plaid distorted the rest of his shape, loosely wrapped as it was, but Niall could guess by the size of him that the clothes hid a remarkably strong body. The man was young, his face smooth and boy-like despite the hard jaw and firm lips, the narrow, hawk-like nose. It was a face of strong character, and disgustingly handsome.
“You’ve golden hair,” Niall said suddenly.
Jamie grinned and looked up at the lad. “You noticed, did you?”
“They say not many have golden hair like The MacKinnion himself.”
“Och, well, there are those of us who can thank a Norman ancestor for golden hair.”
“A Norman? Really? One of those who came with King Edward?”
“Aye, a few centuries back that was. You know your history.”
“My sister and I had a good teacher.”
“You mean your sisters. I know. You have four of
them.”
“Only one studied with me.”
Niall paused, angry with himself for mentioning Sheena. It would be almost sacrilegious to talk of her with this Highlander. He shouldn’t have come at all. Heaven help him if he were found! But he had been so full of curiosity that he hadn’t been able to talk himself out of it.
“Do you know The MacKinnion well?” he asked the prisoner.
Jamie smiled, and his face softened.‑ “You could say I know him better than any other man knows him.”
“Are you his brother, then?”
“Nay. Why do you ask about him?”
“He’s all anyone talks about. They say there’s no man braver.”
“He will be glad to hear it.”
“Is he as terribly mean as they say?”
“Who says he’s mean?” Jamie grunted.
“My sister.”
“Your sister doesna know him.”
“But she’s heard more stories of him than I have,” Niall replied.
“And no doubt told you all.”
“Nay. She didna want to frighten me.”
“Ha! I can see she has a low opinion of me. And which sister is this?”
But Niall didn’t answer. He was staring at the man wide‑eyed, for he had caught the slip of the tongue, even though the prisoner didn’t yet realize it.
“ ‘Tis you!” he gasped. “You’re him! The MacKinnion. And my father doesna even know!”
Jamie cursed himself silently. “You’re daft, lad.”
“Nay. I heard you!” he cried excitedly. “You said, `She has a low opinion of me.’ Not him, you said ‘me.’ You’re James MacKinnion!”
“Tell me this, lad,” Jamie demanded. “What has your father planned for me?”
“To ransom you back.”
“And what would he be doing then if he thought I was The MacKinnion?”
“I dinna know,” Niall said thoughtfully. “He’d probably let you go free without any demands at all. Would you no’ prefer that?”
“Nay,” Jamie replied, surprisingly. “ ‘Tis no’ something I’m proud of, being caught unawares, and I dinna care to hear your father gloat over it. ‘Tis bad enough I’ll get all the ribbing when I’m home.”
“There’s no shame in it,” Niall insisted. “There were five against you.”
“Five I could’ve taken if I’d been mounted and seen them coming.”
“How could you no’ see them on the moor?”
“I wasna on the moor. I was in a wooded glen.”
Niall gasped. There was only one wooded glen on Fergusson land, the glen where Sheena went to swim.
“Why were you there?”
Jamie did not notice the change in the boy’s tone. “I’ll no’ be saying, for it only adds to my shame.”
“You’ll tell me if . . . if you want me to forget you’re The MacKinnion.”
Jamie wasted no time. “I’ve your word on it?” Aye.
“Very well, though I doubt you’ll ken a man’s foolishness. I was looking for a wisp of a girl I once saw bathing in the pool there.”
Color rushed into Niall’s face, turning him bright pink with anger and shame. This man had seen his sister! She would be mortified if she knew. He was in an agony of shame.
“When did you see her?” Niall croaked.
“What?”
“When did you see this girl?”
“In the spring.”
“And did you see her this morning?”
“Nay, the pool was empty.” Jamie leaned forward hopefully. “Do you know the g
irl? I thought perhaps she was a beggar girl and was long gone.”
“No Fergusson would be foolish enough to bathe in that glen,” Niall lied stiffly. “She’s likely gone, yes.”
“Aye, I didna really believe I would see her again,” Jamie agreed wistfully. “She was just passing through this place. Yet . . . I did hope otherwise.”
“And what would you have done if you had found her again?”
Jamie grinned. “I dinna think you’re old enough to know the answer to that.”
“You’re the savage my sister says you are, James MacKinnion!” Niall snapped furiously. “I’ll no’ be talking to you again!”
Jamie shrugged. The boy was innocent still. He didn’t have a man’s desires yet, so he couldn’t understand them.
“Suit yourself, lad,” Jamie said shortly. “But you’ll be keeping your word?”
“I’ve given it—I’ll keep it!”
When the trapdoor had closed and the bolt had slid into place, Jamie regretted teasing the boy. He had enjoyed the company and doubted he’d get more very soon.
Niall returned to his room, but he got no sleep. After a while, his anger cooled, and he was able to think about the meeting rationally.
The laird of the MacKinnions was in their dungeon! Niall would be hard‑pressed to keep that news to himself. And the fact that The MacKinnion had seen his sister in the altogether? It galled him that any man would have spied on her, let alone their enemy. But what was done was done, and he could do nothing about it except see to it that Sheena never swam naked there again.
And the rest of it? Niall was not so young that he hadn’t understood Jamie perfectly well. The MacKinnion desired his sister and might have ravished her if he had found her at the pool. Niall would have been no defense against a full‑grown man. Fortunately it hadn’t come to that. The MacKinnion must have come to the pool only minutes after he and Sheena had left. But the man had come looking for her. He must never know that Sheena Fergusson and the girl he lusted after were one and the same.
Chapter 6
SHEENA was in the sewing room, dressed in one of her prettiest frocks, a bright yellow gown that contrasted vividly with the dark burnished red of her loose, flowing hair. She was unhappily working on her wedding gown, two of the household servants helping her. The gown was going to be lovely, two shades of blue, in rich velvet and silk, and the darker blue a near match to her eyes. But Sheena felt no pleasure in it. The wearing of that gown would bind her to a stranger and take her away from her home.
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