“Aye,” Weylyn said, scrunching his face. “With a brother so big and gruff, it’s strange she’s tiny and thin. Like her folks gave all her food to Angus instead of her. And I don’t remember her saying much.”
Pretty, obedient, and quiet. Alec was sure to like Bessy Cameron. Mairi’s jaw felt tight, and she rubbed just under her ears to ease the tension. Alec had touched her there when he kissed her, barely ten minutes ago. She dropped her arms. It would be a blessing if Alec liked another woman. Maybe he’d give up his foolish plan to wed her.
Mairi moved to the door. “Your father won’t tell us anything. If we want to know why they’ve come, we need to listen.” She cracked the door, and, using the hand signal she’d seen Alec use with the dogs, she looked at Daisy. “Stay,” she whispered.
“’Tis terrible,” Angus said, his voice easily heard. “Her death. Revenge, my friend, will help ease the pain.”
“Shut the door,” Cinnia whispered.
Weylyn crept up to the crack with Mairi. Cinnia threw her arms out wide, looking to Heaven, and paced over to the fire.
Where Angus’s voice was a tempest of blasts and booms, Alec’s answers were strong, constant, and even.
“The bastard responsible is dead,” Alec said.
Angus snorted loudly. “Most likely by one of his own, on the way back, after his foulness killing a woman. Bloody cod.”
“And he curses all the time,” Cinnia said from the hearth.
Another voice came from the stairs. “The Macraes stand behind ye, Alec. I know ye have two of your own ships, but mine is available if ye intend to attack the MacInnes.”
“Aye,” Angus boomed. “The Camerons stand behind ye, of course. In fact, I’m here to offer ye a new wife. My sister.”
Mairi lost her balance, falling against the door. It shut hard with a loud crack.
“Shhhh,” Cinnia hissed, eyes wide.
Weylyn crossed his arms. “They’re bound to have heard that.”
Damnation. She opened the door again.
“Ghosts perhaps?” Angus said and laughed. “To add to the curse of the place.”
“More likely my children. Without their mother looking after them, they don’t follow orders very well,” Alec’s voice rose as if he were talking directly to Mairi. She scrunched her face like an angry child.
“Another reason Bessy should become your wife as soon as possible. There’s a priest on Barra. It is summer with plenty of honey ale about and wildflowers that Bessy is fond of. Wait until ye see the sandy beaches on the west side of Barra, Bessy. And the land here is extremely fertile.”
“Aye, MacNeil,” George Macrae said. “I’d like to take a look at this soil Angus raves about. I would like—”
Alec’s voice cut through. “I won’t be taking her to wife; no offense, Bessy.”
The whisper of her response barely made it up the short set of stairs. The woman was a mouse. What would Alec do with a mouse? Whistle for her? Send her scurrying with different blast patterns on that damn little rod?
“Why the bloody hell not?” Angus roared, sounding like a beast on a battlefield. “Ah… Someone in the village warming your bed?” Angus chuckled, his good humor restored. “I’m sure Bessy could overlook a lass or two. She’s quite the obedient and forgiving woman.”
Overlook? Change of mind. Mairi did not like Angus Cameron. At. All.
Weylyn looked at Mairi with raised eyebrows. “That’s absolutely not appropriate, nor honorable,” Mairi whispered to him. God forbid the boy grew up thinking he could tup other women after he wed. Did he even know what happened between a man and woman yet? She’d have to make sure Alec talked with him. The boy certainly didn’t need to gain his information from a man like Angus Cameron.
“I appreciate your generous offer, but I decline,” Alec said, his voice lower, making Mairi open the door wider to hear.
As if she’d been called to run a race, Daisy flew through the room and scooted out the door. Mairi caught Weylyn’s arm as he made to run after her, because it was too late. The dog ran down the steps and into the hall.
Bessy cried out and Angus cursed while Daisy barked. The high-pitched whistle broke through the voices. “Daisy,” Alec called. “Artemis, come.” The dog stopped barking. “We have quite a few dogs about,” Alec said. “I apologize for the surprise. She was supposed to stay abovestairs with the children.”
“Are there more?” Bessy asked.
“Aye,” Alec said. “Lots. I train them to help people in the village and guard our shores.”
“She’ll grow used to the beasts,” Angus said. “Now back to the wedding plans.”
Mairi was beginning to feel an itch to kick Angus Cameron in the shins. Alec said something, but it was low, so Mairi stepped quietly into the hallway. Even though she motioned for Weylyn to stay behind, he followed, making an exaggerated effort to be as silent as the shadows around them.
“Decline, decline,” Angus said, his voice riding even higher. “What plans are better than creating an alliance with the Camerons? With England infiltrating the mainland of Scotland like a ravenous beast, we both need alliances to keep a strong Scotland. Yet ye refuse my sister? Why?”
The sound of a sword being drawn brought on the scrape of many blades unleashing.
“Ballocks,” Weylyn whispered, his eyes wide.
Ballocks was right. Was there about to be a bloodbath in Kisimul’s great hall? Children above, Daisy below, along with an apparently very breakable woman. Intercession was needed.
Grabbing her skirts with one hand, Mairi ran down the steps. “Stop,” she called, the scene much like she’d imagined. Kilted men stood opposite one another, crowding the room with Alec in the middle, sword out. Before him, a short, burly man with a full beard and narrowed eyes held his own sword high. Another man with graying hair stood beside Angus, sword drawn, point toward Alec. Dodging behind the Camerons was a petite woman, terror squeezing her face.
Alec looked fierce, his features darkened to a lethal glare. Strength and power radiated from his stance, as if he stood on a hill about to charge down over a doomed enemy. Mairi ran to the table, hiked her skirts and stepped up to stand above everyone. Angus looked her way, surprise muting the look of brutality in his stance.
“Stad, stop,” she called again.
“Who in fiery damnation are ye?” Angus asked.
Alec glanced her way but kept his eyes on Angus. One step forward and war would break out on Kisimul.
Mairi took a big breath in. “I am Alec MacNeil’s betrothed.”
Chapter Nine
Mairi looked like an avenging angel atop the table, hair spread out in golden disarray, arms wide in proclamation. Betrothed? He didn’t think for a second that she meant it. She’d obviously been eavesdropping and sought to stop the spilling of blood.
With two strides, Alec positioned himself before her, his hounds growling and snapping while Mairi’s ill-trained dog barked and scampered about the legs of Cameron’s men. Alec’s blood pumped as he waited for his childhood acquaintance—turned adversary—to make a move.
Angus had been a tyrannous bastard while they were lads, and his penchant for blustery orders and self-abiding nature made him difficult to like. Alec was the only lad who’d stood up to him, and, after one particular pounding that he’d given Angus, he’d gained the boy’s respect. Any friendship between them was owed to distance and irregular meetings.
Offering help was different from demanding Alec marry his sister, and Alec wasn’t about to let someone threaten him in his own hall. “I think it is time ye leave Kisimul,” Alec said slowly. “And Barra.”
“Betrothed?” Angus drew out the word. His eyebrows caved even farther toward his scrunched nose. “Already. Ye made no mention of it when I wrote to ye about my sorrow over Joyce.” Slowly the man lowered his sword. Macrae followed, as did his men.
“Who are ye, lass?” Angus asked.
Alec’s men kept their swords drawn, and would continue to unti
l he lowered his own. With Mairi exposed behind him, he wasn’t going to. “She is—”
“I am Mairi…Sinclair, from the far north. My father was called home before the wedding could occur, but left me with his wishes. We will wed after the harvest. I need time to plan.”
“Sinclair? John Sinclair is the chief,” Angus said.
“I am a cousin’s daughter,” Mairi went on.
Alec felt her hand land on his shoulder as if it was the most natural occurrence. The feel of it brought back the sensation of her clinging to him during their kiss. She climbed down onto a chair, finally finding the floor, releasing her hold.
Angus met Alec’s gaze. “Well, that changes things,” he said. “Put down your damn sword, MacNeil. If ye’d just said ye were already engaged, I wouldn’t have had to defend my sister’s honor.”
Bessy’s honor was in danger only from her crass brother. “I hope, Bessy, ye did not take offense.” Alec lowered his sword but did not sheath it. Bessy came a bit closer, her gaze closing in on Mairi. “Since I cannot take your generous offer, Angus, ye may leave Kisimul now.”
“Now?” The large man’s face relaxed in a wide grin. “The Wolf of Kisimul isn’t given to neighborly hospitality, are ye? ’Tis dark, and the voyage back to the mainland, long.”
“Certainly, we can let them stay the night,” Mairi said, as if she were already the woman of the keep. Moving out from behind Alec, she strode over to Bessy and tipped her head, linking her arm through hers. “Welcome to Kisimul, Lady Bessy. The children and I will find ye a room in which to refresh yourself. Although we do not currently have a cook, Cinnia made some lovely tarts earlier today, which I will send up.” As if moving around armed, hardened men were nothing to worry over, Mairi wove Bessy and herself through them toward Alec.
“Thank ye,” Bessy said. Relief lay heavy across her narrow shoulders. Was it relief at Mairi’s rescue or the fact she wouldn’t be forced to marry him? The woman was as timid as a beaten dog. The thought piqued at Alec’s already thin control around her overbearing brother. The ladies continued up the steps to the second level.
Angus scratched the back of his large head. “She’s a right bossy piece of fleece.” He grinned at Alec. “Ye’ll have your hands full bringing her to heel.”
With Mairi out of the room, Alec sheathed his sword. He looked to Kenneth. “The soldiers’ barracks along the wall has an extra room for Angus?”
“Aye,” Kenneth said, his usual grin gone.
Alec turned back to the man. “Ye may stay on Kisimul since Bessy is here.” His gaze moved to Macrae. “Ye and Angus’s men can sleep on ship. There will be bannocks and ham in the morning.” Macrae nodded.
“Ah now,” Angus said, coming closer, his arm extended to thump Alec’s shoulder. “Let us celebrate your upcoming alliance with the Sinclairs.” Angus crooked his head with his smile. “Might ye have a barrel of whisky about?”
Alec kept his curse inside. It was going to be a long night.
…
Fog, grayish white, wafted before Mairi as she picked her way across the rocks, Daisy at her feet. She drew the shawl around her to block the moist chill that clung to the earth as dawn broke. The tide was low, exposing a wide beach of barnacle-covered boulders around the outside wall of the castle. Mairi looked toward where the village should be, but could see only the swirls of fog lit from the east as the rising sun fought to burn through it. She knew George Macrae’s ship was moored somewhere nearby, but the thick gray blocked its bulk. She shivered slightly as the fog drifted by, almost like a snake encircling her.
Daisy picked her way over the slick boulders, covered with dark seaweed, slipping a few times where her nails couldn’t dig in. “If ye fall in the rot, ye’ll have to endure a cold bath before I let ye back in my bed,” she warned.
“I will keep that in mind,” came a voice, making Mairi gasp the wet air as she turned. Alec’s large frame emerged from the thick fog toward her, his boots planting firmly on the exposed areas. “’Tis not much of a threat since I already wash in frigid water daily.”
The lines of his hair and face grew crisp as he stepped closer, the fog seeming to part for its master. Plaid wrapped around his waist, the end slung up over his shoulder, white linen shirt against tanned skin, his sword sheathed against his hip, he looked like a Highland warrior crossing a moor toward battle.
“I was speaking of the dog,” she replied.
Daisy sniffed at Alec’s boots and then leaped to chase a small crab amongst the rocks. Alec perused the swirling gray. “Looking for an escape?”
“I wouldn’t be much of a prisoner if I wasn’t.” Truthfully, Mairi just longed to feel the breeze and listen to the water after the long night of readying a room and visiting with the sulky Bessy Cameron. The woman barely spoke, but looked so forlorn that Mairi hadn’t wanted to leave her until she was ready to sleep.
Mairi stood on an elevated boulder. With sure footing, Alec stepped before her onto the sand, made of crushed shells, to bring his gaze level with hers. The fog encased them, making it seem as if they stood together in a small space instead of outside. “The Camerons are allies of the MacNeils,” he said, his voice low. “But I do not know the breadth of their honor, Mairi. And I do not know much about George Macrae. It would be unwise for ye to approach them alone.”
She raised one eyebrow. “Even if they think I belong to the ruthless Wolf of Kisimul?” She tilted her head to the side in question.
His mouth turned up at the corners. “If ye were to ask for passage away from Kisimul, they would know the betrothal is false. Without my formal claim, ye might have a bigger problem than me keeping ye comfortable in my castle.” He stared intently into her eyes. “The walls of Kisimul protect ye.”
“The walls of Kisimul imprison me,” she whispered back. Mairi sighed and rolled her eyes, breaking the connection. “I’m not trying to jump on the Macrae’s boat, Alec.” She turned toward the billows of mist and stepped off her perch to stand at the water’s edge. “Just needed some freedom from walls. Ye get to journey off Kisimul whenever ye want. Those of us kept comfortable at Kisimul are not afforded the same liberty.”
Mairi lowered her shawl to let the mist feather across her cheeks and breathed in the sea air. The tang of tide reminded her of Aros. Home. A crunch of shells made Mairi hold her breath, her senses straining to detect just how close Alec had come without turning toward him.
“I will take ye across to Barra,” he said directly behind her.
She didn’t turn, continuing to follow the ribbons of mist before her. “When I agree to wed ye, I know.”
“Mairi,” he said as his hand covered her shoulder. It was warm and heavy, a tether in the fog. He turned her toward him. “I will take ye once the fog clears and Angus leaves.”
She frowned up at him. “Why so generous?”
“I would have ye see the beauty that is Barra. The isle may be small compared to Mull, but its white, sandy beaches and blue-water shallows flanked by wildflowers are quite bonny. Cinnia especially loves to pick bunches to weave into crowns.” He encircled the top of her hair with one finger. The soft touch caused a ticklish chill to coat Mairi, making her body come alive. How could such a light touch feel…intimate and luring? She blinked as she searched his darkly handsome features, feeling his strength like the fortress jutting up behind him. What would it be like to have him touch her body like that? Such gentle power in his fingers?
“I…” She tore her gaze from his and looked down, clearing her throat slightly. “I would like that. I made many wildflower crowns as a lass on Mull. I challenge Barra to provide as breathtaking bounty of flowers as I’m accustomed.” She looked back into his face.
He chuckled, and merriment lit his features. Her heart thumped harder at the transformation. The Wolf of Kisimul could smile, and when he did, he made her want to… Mairi’s smile faded at her treasonous desires. She turned from him, looking outward where the body of the Macrae’s large vessel was a bulky shape
, a hundred yards out in the bay. The fog was beginning to lose the battle against the sun.
“Shall we return before the children worry ye’ve fallen down the well?” Alec asked, extending his arm.
Mairi took one more breath of mist and nodded. “I’m holding ye to your offer, though.”
He raised his eyebrows. “The offer of marriage?”
She smacked him in the chest, feeling the hard muscle underneath the linen shirt. “Nay. The offer to tour Barra and see your paltry wildflowers.”
“Ah yes,” he said, taking her arm to help her over the boulders. “Artemis,” he called.
“Daisy,” she called with a treasonous scrunch of her nose at Alec.
She didn’t know which name beckoned her dog, but the sweet pup bounded and skittered over the rocks to follow them back up to the castle.
…
“’Tis a bonny day, MacNeil,” Angus bellowed in the courtyard. The sun was high, and all traces of the thick fog were gone, once more exposing Kisimul to whoever studied it on shore.
“A good day for sailing,” Alec answered, about ready to throw the onerous man into the bay. Angus had drunk half his barrel of whisky the night before, snored enough to drive Kenneth and Ian to sleep in the hall instead of in beds in the barracks, and was now acting like he was an invited guest.
Angus laughed. “Throwing me off Kisimul?”
“Aye,” Alec said, walking to the door in the thick wall encircling the keep and bailey. He’d been watching the fog lift and Tor Maclean’s ship depart all morning. The weather had cooperated perfectly to keep Mairi shrouded, and her searchers should be gone for at least a week while they visited the northern isles.
He’d told Angus the ship was a northern trader, and the man barely looked at it. With Alec’s two large sailing vessels, moored in the bay, one more ship moving about hadn’t elicited questions from Mairi, and now she was safely tucked behind the walls of Kisimul as her brother sailed away. Alec ignored the twist of guilt in his gut.
“Then let us go to Barra,” Angus said, pulling Alec’s thoughts. “I’ve wanted to show Bessy your beaches. The land on Barra is exceedingly fertile. ’Twould be a good place to have a home. She may wish to stay even if ye don’t wed her.”
The Wolf of Kisimul Castle Page 8