The young man appeared confused. “Shall I tell them where we be goin’ and what to prepare fer, m’laird?”
Pinning the young man in place with a terrifying glower, Rutger answered. “We shall be raidin’ the McLaren keep. Tell them to bloody ready themselves fer war!”
* * *
From the shadows of the hallway, Dougall Bowie heard his laird’s orders. Heard the call to war that sent a shiver down his spine.
As quickly as he could, he left the hallway and the keep. When he was stopped at the drawbridge, the young man in charge at first refused to lower it.
“Yer laird has just called fer war against the McLarens, ye whelp! I need to get to me wife and bairns. Ye lower this drawbridge or I’ll bloody well gut ye where ye stand.”
The young man hesitated only briefly, for he knew Dougall Bowie had a reputation for never backing down from a fight and for almost always keeping his word. Not wanting to test the man, he ordered the drawbridge lowered so Dougall could get to his family.
Before he’d even reached the edge of the bridge, the order to raise it was given. Jumping a few feet, he landed safely on the other side and raced down the path and to his cottage. He had to get his wife and bairns to safety before the McLarens attacked. Last night, Alec had come to him after the lass with the odd eyes had fallen asleep. He had filled him in on his plan as well as his worry the McLarens would attack once they had Rose back. Regardless of who now attacked first, be it Bowie or McLaren, war was inevitable.
And the poor young woman Rutger had beaten the bloody hell out of? If the McLarens attacked first, then the young woman was sure to die. Rutger would make certain of it.
Just before he opened the door to his cottage, the battle horn sounded from the wall. Were the circumstance different, he would gladly have rushed to that call. But he was older now, wiser, and with far more at stake. Peace was within their grasp, even if his foolish laird could not or would not see it.
* * *
As much as he would have liked taking his time to get Rose back to her husband — for her own comfort — Alec could not take the risk. Who knew how much time they had before ’twas discovered she was missing? Nay, ’twas best to ride hard and fast, away from his brother’s keep and toward the spot where he’d left the McLaren and his own men.
Not once did Rose complain of the hard riding. For a change, she was quiet and composed while she perched in front of him.
Over hills and through glens, he raced as fast as his mount could go. He had to get Rose to her husband, away from the danger behind them. And the sooner he could return her, the sooner he could go back and fetch Leona.
Hours passed and they stopped only twice and but briefly. By the time he crossed out of Bowie lands and onto McLaren, his heart was pounding in his chest, sweat covered his brow, and his worry and concern for Leona grew.
’Twas late afternoon before he caught a glimpse of the spot where he’d left Ian and the others. As they drew nearer, his heart seized at the sight before him. Hundreds upon hundreds of men and horses filled the open field. Banners waved in the afternoon breeze. Banners of war.
* * *
As soon as Ian received word from the sentry that someone was approaching, he mounted his horse and headed toward the riders. When he caught sight of his wife’s golden blonde hair waving in the wind, his heart nearly leapt from his chest.
Overwhelmed with joy and relief, he kicked his horse into a full gallop and raced toward her. His heart skipped so many beats he worried it would stop before he had a chance to hold her.
Moments later, Ian was pulling rein on his horse, sliding down and running toward her. Alec Bowie followed suit and helped Rose. With great care, he helped her to her feet. He tried to steady her so she would not fall, but she was having none of it. She only wanted her husband.
As fast as her legs could carry her, she ran to Ian and flung herself into his arms, an explosion of relief filling her chest, her stomach, her very core.
There was no holding back tears for either Rose or Ian.
Collapsing to the ground, he pulled her into his lap and held her as tightly as he could. “I missed ye!” they exclaimed to each other between kisses and hugs.
“Do no’ ever leave me again,” Rose begged. “Never, ever again!”
“I will no’,” he promised her. “Even if it means we have to eat leeks fer the rest of our lives.”
Rose fell against his chest with her arms wrapped around his neck, holding on for dear life. “I thought I’d never see ye again.”
“Och! Ye did no’ think I would leave ye to rot with the Bowies, did ye?” he asked.
Rose wiped her tears onto her cloak. “Nay, I thought ye’d do somethin’ foolish and try to attack.”
So they sat for a long while, alone in the field, making promises that were probably impossible to keep. But they made them nonetheless. It took some time before Rose’s tears subsided and even longer before she could let go of her husband. Beyond all reason and measure, she loved this man with all that she was.
Ian felt the same toward her. The relief at having her back in his arms would have been impossible to describe to another living soul. For weeks he had worried, almost to the point of madness. What hell she must have endured at Rutger’s hands. Now, he decided, was not the time to ask those ugly questions. Nay, for now, he would rejoice in simply having her in his arms once again.
* * *
Alec Bowie watched the reunion between husband and wife. Other men might have been jealous of the undeniable love these two people shared, but not he. Nay, Alec did not understand such emotions as love. Love was a weakness, an emotion that lead to a man’s downfall. He knew this unequivocally because he’d witnessed his father suffer the torment of loving a woman.
Tired to his bones for a number of good reasons, he could no longer watch as Ian and Rose professed their undying love for one another. Quietly, he grabbed the reins to his horse and walked away to find his men.
* * *
Ian tenderly smoothed his wife’s hair while he placed tender kisses on her cheeks, then lips. He’d realized days ago that he could not live on this earth without her. His worry over how harshly she was being treated, his worry over their babe, had consumed him. Now he felt ashamed for having doubted just how strong his wife truly was. Still, there was much to be done before he could rest easy again.
“Rose?” he whispered against the top of her head. “I must get ye away from here at once.”
“Ye’ll get no argument from me.” Her voice was low and scratchy from crying. “I want to go home.”
Without a fortified keep or anything stronger than a wood wall, home was not safe. He could not protect her there. “As do I, but ye will no’ be goin’ home just yet.”
Pulling away, she stared into his eyes. “Are we goin’ back to the Mackintosh castle?” she asked, her tone hopeful.
“Nay, lass, ye be goin’ to Rowan Graham’s keep. I have an escort waitin’ fer ye.”
Confusion set in first, but it was quickly replaced by anger. “I will no’ be goin’ to Rowan Graham’s keep!” she all but shouted at him. “We be goin’ home. Back to our keep.”
“I can no’ protect ye there. Rowan’s keep is well fortified —”
She cut him off by scrambling to her feet. “I do no’ care how well fortified it be. I have no’ seen ye in weeks. I am tired and I want to go home with ye.”
The last thing he wanted was to argue with her. Standing to his full height, he did his best to remain calm. “Rose, there be no time to argue it. The Bowie started this war and I aim to finish it.”
She looked as though he’d just slapped her. “War? Why must there be war? Why can we no’ just go home? I am here now, away from the Bowies. I be safe and with ye.”
Raking a hand through his hair, he mumbled a curse under his breath. “The Bowie will come after ye again. And again. And again until he bloody well gets what he wants. I will no’ risk yer safety or our babe’s. Ye be goin’ to Rowan Gra
ham’s keep and ye be goin’ now.”
Hurt, angry, and exhausted, she felt huge disappointment. The only thing that had kept her sane these past weeks was to think of being reunited with Ian. Of falling asleep in his arms and waking up in them. But now, he was sending her away to go fight some ridiculous war with a crazed man.
She could not bear it. “Nay, I will no’ go. I will stay here with ye.”
“I will no’ be here, do ye no’ understand?”
Swallowing back tears, deflated but not yet ready to give up her argument, she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Please, Ian, I beg ye no’ to go. I need ye. I can no’ bear the thought of losin’ ye.” ’Twas nothing but the truth of it.
“And I can no’ bear the thought of losin’ ye again, Rose. Or our babe. I need ye to go to Rowan’s.” He pressed another kiss to the top of her head.
From behind her, she heard an all too familiar voice speak her name. “Rose.”
Releasing her hold on her husband, she spun to see her brother-by-law. Stunned, she could only stare in confusion for a long moment.
“If ye do no’ go to Rowan’s, I fear me wife will kill me.”
“Frederick!” she exclaimed as she flung her arms around his neck. “What are ye doin’ here?”
He chuckled as he returned her embrace. “We left weeks earlier than I planned. Ye can thank Aggie fer that when ye see her.”
“Where is she? How is she? How are the children?” she blurted out one question after another.
“Wheest, lass,” Frederick said with a smile. “She be verra well, as are our children. Aggie awaits ye at Rowan’s keep.”
Her head began to swim. “Aggie is at Rowan’s?” She would not allow herself to believe it just yet.
“Aye, she is. There be little time to explain it now, lass. We must get ye away from here. But I swear to ye, I’ll bring yer husband to ye as soon as we are done dealin’ with the Bowies.”
The Bowies. Oh, how she hated the sound of that name! Uncontainable anger hit her full on. Stepping away, she caught a better sight of all the men Frederick had brought with him. He could have brought ten thousand more and it would have done nothing to ease the ache in her heart.
No matter what promises her husband or his brother made to her, she knew there was a distinct possibility that neither of them would return. But they were hard-headed, stubborn men and there was nothing she could say or do to change their minds. They were determined to seek vengeance on Rutger Bowie.
* * *
“Ye look bloody awful,” Gylys said as Alec approached his men. They were standing not far from the army of McLarens, Mackintoshes, and Grahams. Gylys held out a mug of ale for his friend.
“I feel bloody awful,” Alec told him, accepting the offered mug. He downed the cool ale, wiped his lips on the sleeve of his tunic, and handed the mug back. “When did the army arrive?” he asked, inclining his head toward the massive group of men.
“A few hours ago,” Gylys told him. “And they’re bloody well angry.”
Alec couldn’t say that he blamed them. His brother was foolish for kidnapping Rose Mackintosh. Now ‘twould be up to Alec to keep them from burning his keep to the ground.
“I will need a fresh horse,” he told his men. “I have to go back and get Leona.”
“Rest a bit first, then ye may take mine,” Kyth told him.
He hadn’t slept more than an hour here and there in the past several days. While very tempted to take his cousin’s advice, he had a promise to keep. “I fear there be no time fer restin’,” he said. “Who kens how long before Rutger discovers Rose is missin’.” He dreaded to think what would happen to the young woman he’d left behind in Rose’s place.
“We shall go with ye,” Kyth declared.
“While I appreciate yer offer, cousin, I fear we will all soon be wanted men. Once Rutger discovers we be missin’ along with Rose, he’ll put a price on each of our heads.”
His men, including young Davy, lined up before him. They cared not about Rutger or being considered traitors by their clan.
“We would follow ye anywhere, Alec.” Gylys spoke on behalf of the others. “We did no’ help ye get Rose out only to leave ye alone to accept whatever fate Rutger has in store for ye.”
“And I can no’ go to me grave knowin’ I took ye with me,” he told them. “Nay, ye need to leave this place until I can get me brother to see reason.”
Kyth scoffed openly. “If ye were able to get yer brother to see reason, none of us would be here this day. He would never have taken Rose Mackintosh.”
In his heart of hearts he knew ’twas the truth his cousin spoke. “I can no’ give up yet,” he replied. “There is still a chance I can stop this war. We could finally have peace, once and fer all, fer our clan.”
Peace. That was why these men had followed him. They were just as tired of thieving and warring as he was. Each of them, including Dougall, who was in great danger, wanted the same as he. Peace for their clan.
“Ye’ll nay have peace until Rutger Bowie is dead.” The words came from Ian Mackintosh.
Slowly, Alec turned to face him. “I ken ye want revenge fer him takin’ yer wife,” Alec said in a low, calm tone. “But would we rather no’ have peace without bloodshed?”
Rowan Graham and Frederick Mackintosh stood on either side of Ian. They looked just as angry and as determined as he. “I would rather ye and I had never met,” Ian said. “I would rather me wife was never taken. I would rather I was at home, buildin’ me own keep and happily awaitin’ the arrival of me first bairn. But yer brother has started this war. He does no’ want peace.”
A shiver of dread traced up and down Alec’s spine. He knew the McLaren spoke the truth. The last thing Rutger wanted was to give up the only way of life he’d ever known. And now that he was chief, the power he yielded was almost as important to him as gold. Still, Alec could not give up hope that he could get his brother to see the folly of his ways.
“Were it yer brother who had made such a terrible mistake—” Alec was cut off by Ian stepping forward.
“Ye think this a wee mistake?” he asked, seething with anger. “We be no’ speakin’ of a bairn who was caught stealin’ sweet cakes from the larder.”
Poor choice of words, he knew it. “I apologize, m’laird. Me point bein’ that were it one of yer brothers who had done somethin’ so foolish, would ye no’ be arguin’ fer at least the chance to set things right?”
Ian’s jaw twitched. “First of all, none of me brothers would be stupid enough to kidnap another man’s wife, let alone one with child.”
“Be that as it may, m’laird, I think ye’re fergettin’ one verra important thing,” Alec said.
“Pray tell, what is that I am fergettin’?” Ian ground out.
Alec cocked his head to one side. “Leona.”
* * *
Leona Macdowall was the only thing standing between war and peace. Ian knew it as well as Alec.
“If ye lay siege to me brother’s keep, the first thing he will do is kill anyone who he believes betrayed him. Leona would be the first to die.” Alec let the words sink into Ian’s mind before continuing. “The only hope that lass has of survivin’ is fer ye no’ to attack.”
Ian mulled it over for a short moment. His wife would never forgive him if anything happened to Leona. Hell, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. Their original plan was for Alec to return to the keep and bring Leona back. God willing, she was still safe and had yet to be found out.
“Verra well,” Ian said, pulling his shoulders back. “We will no’ attack until ye have retrieved Leona.”
“And if I can get me brother to agree to peace amongst our clans?” Alec asked with a raised brow.
“Then we shall have peace,” Ian replied.
What he left unsaid could have filled a large tome.
30
Will Bowie had never been on such an important mission before. ’Twas a mission he aimed to complete, for as his father had
explained it, countless lives were at stake.
The eleven-year-old boy held on tightly to the mane of his ‘borrowed’ mount, his knees digging into its sides. There’d been no time for saddle nor bridle, for auld Harry Bowie might have objected to the necessity of borrowing his gray speckled gelding.
His father was adamantly opposed to stealing, but in times of war ’twas often a necessary deed. Deciding he would return the horse as soon as he was done using it, Will reasoned ’twasn’t really stealing but borrowing. Hopefully his father would agree.
And never had he been this far from home alone without any of his kin. ’Twas as exhilarating as it was terrifying.
Over hill and glen he rode as fast as he could, running over and over in his mind the message his father had given him to relay to Alec.
Just exactly what the message meant, he could only guess. He knew it had something to do with his uncle, a woman whose name he’d never heard before, and war.
He’d been riding for hours now, the sun just beginning to set behind him. Riding into darkness, alone, with only a sgian dubh and his grandsire’s old sword, was becoming less and less appealing.
Worry and unease began to play with his courage as well as his mind. Who knew what ne’er-do-wells or brigands hid under the cover of darkness.
Nay! He told himself. Ye be neither bairn nor wean, Will Bowie. That’s what yer da told yer mum just before he sent ye off on this mission. If yer da did no’ think ye could get to Alec in time, he never would have sent ye.
Rebuilding his wavering courage was not easy, but ’twas necessary. No matter what lay ahead that might stop him, be it man or beast, he must get to his uncle Alec.
* * *
’Twas a brilliant sunset, the sky splattered in shades of crimson, burgundy, and yellow. But to the east of their encampment, the sky was as black as pitch. Great thunderclouds blocked the stars and moon. Rain would be upon them soon.
“Ye will be safe with Rowan’s men,” Ian told his wee wife. In truth, he was trying to convince her as much as himself.
Ian's Rose: Book One of The Mackintoshes and McLarens Page 26