Teàrlag had told him the right lass would choose him, but he had not been wise enough to know it. He had sacrificed their happiness to make a marriage alliance, which now seemed like a slender reed on which to rest his clan’s future. Belatedly, he realized that Ilysa was the best wife he could choose not only for himself, but for his clan. No other woman would be as devoted to the clan’s welfare or as wise and steadfast a helpmate to him. And only with her at his side could he become the chieftain his clan needed him to be.
He still could think of no good explanation for why Ilysa would meet with their clan’s worst enemy, that devil Alastair MacLeod. But if God gave him another chance, he would put his faith in the woman who had always had faith in him.
His thoughts were interrupted by Lachlan, who appeared out of the darkness, his hair bright in the firelight.
“Ye fought well today,” Connor told him, and he refrained from mentioning that he also noticed that Lachlan disappeared afterward.
“I brought ye a message.” Lachlan slanted a look at Torquil. “It’s private.”
Connor was bone-weary, and his shoulders ached from swinging his claymore all day, but he hauled himself to his feet. The air was chilly when he stepped away from the fire.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Ilysa wants ye to meet her,” Lachlan said. “She says it’s important.”
Connor’s weariness fell away. Ilysa wanted to see him.
“You’re to come alone to the abandoned church on Saint Columba’s Island after midnight,” Lachlan said. “If she’s not there by an hour before dawn, you’re to leave because she’s not coming.”
Saint Columba, a small island in the Snizort River, was the site of the church of the Bishops of the Isles for five hundred years before it was abandoned near the time the Lord of the Isles submitted to the Scottish Crown. Its burial ground was crowded with the graves of ancient chieftains and warriors, including some who had fought in the Crusades.
“That’s a strange place and time to meet,” Connor said. “Why can’t I meet her at your sister’s?”
“I had the impression Ilysa meant to leave the cottage as soon as I was out the door,” Lachlan said.
“How do I know this message is from Ilysa and not a trap you’re setting at Hugh’s behest?” Connor asked. “Ye expect me to leave my men in the midst of battle and go alone to this isolated place in the black of night on trust?”
If Connor died, the clan would be forced to choose a chieftain between the only other males with chieftain’s blood, Moira’s young son and Hugh. The chance they would put the clan in Hugh’s hands was too great for Connor to risk his life lightly.
“Ilysa said to give ye this.”
Connor stared at the stone that Lachlan dropped into his palm. Even this far from the fire, it picked up the light. He recognized it at once as the glittering stone he had left for his dancing faery. For Ilysa.
The question was no longer whether he trusted Lachlan with his life and his clan’s future, but whether he trusted them to Ilysa. Connor had not expected the test of his faith in her to come quite so soon or to be so stark.
CHAPTER 44
Ilysa shivered against the cold as Ewan rowed his little boat from the inlet to the mouth of the river. It would be too difficult for him to row upstream against the current, and the distance was not too far to walk. She directed him to land the boat on the MacLeod side of the river.
“Thank you,” she whispered to Ewan as she got out. “Be careful and go right home.”
Though an eleven-year-old could hardly protect her, Ilysa felt very alone as his boat disappeared into the darkness. She brushed off her fear and walked briskly along the riverbank until she saw the glow of campfires through the mist. They were farther away than they looked. By the time she reached the edge of the enemy camp, her gown and cape were soaked up to her knees from the tall, wet grass.
Despite the cold, damp night air, her palms were sweaty as she approached it. All her life she had heard stories of the terrible things MacLeod warriors did to captured women. Her own mother had never recovered from what they had done to her. She saw a tent at the center and guessed that was where the chieftain slept. Was it possible she could simply walk through the sleeping camp to his tent?
She screamed as rough hands grabbed her from behind. Before she knew what was happening, she was jerked off her feet and her back slammed against a solid frame. She kicked and tried to bite the hand that clamped over her mouth.
“Damn it!” the man cursed when she rammed her heel into his shin.
They were making such a ruckus that several men awoke and surrounded them.
“We all want turns,” one of them said, sending a wave of panic through her.
“Wait,” another said. “We should find out who she is first.”
Ilysa praised the saints for that one, for her captor finally removed his hand from her mouth.
“Get your hands off me,” she said. “I’m a MacLeod, and I have a message for the chieftain.”
“Ha, I’m sure ye do,” one of the men said.
“I promise he’ll be very angry if he doesn’t get it,” she said.
“And I’ll be angry if I don’t get something from you, lass,” one of them said.
“I’ve been spying on the MacDonalds for the chieftain, and he will punish ye most severely if ye harm me.” Ilysa was proud of herself for thinking of such a good lie.
“Ye know the chieftain doesn’t approve of abusing women,” one of the men said, which gave her hope until he added, “We’d best take her into the wood.”
“I have proof!” she said quickly.
That seemed to give them pause.
“Take this to him,” she said, holding out the brooch. She hoped they would not steal it, but she had no choice now but to take the risk. “You’ll find that he does wish to see me.”
* * *
Connor left his guard fifty yards up the river from where it split around the island. The stream was wider on the far side of the island, but the gap on the Trotternish side was narrow enough for him to leap over it. Between the darkness and the heavy mist that lay over the island, he could not see the lumpy ground beneath his feet. He suspected he was walking over ancient graves and prayed their souls were a long way away.
Though his claymore was useless against spirits, he carried it in his hand, ready to meet a more solid opponent hiding in the night mist. He had decided for once to trust in his heart, not his head, and proceed on blind faith. Still, he would be cautious. This was the perfect place to capture him, and Ilysa the perfect bait.
Questions rolled around in his head as he stole over the uneven ground. Why had Ilysa chosen this eerie place of the dead to meet? Where in the hell had she gone that she was not certain she would return before dawn? It was near midnight now, and he wondered how long he would have to wait.
The outline of the small church appeared out of the mist. The old, weathered door creaked as he pushed it open, and he heard a gasp from inside. It was a distinctly feminine sound.
“Ilysa?”
“Connor! Praise God it’s you.”
It was even darker inside the church, but he heard the swish of her gown as she stepped toward him. The next instant, they found each other, and she was in his arms. He clasped her tightly to him, unable to speak at first. He had feared he would never hold her again.
“I’ve missed ye so much,” he said. It seemed impossible that she had only been gone a couple of days.
“I missed ye, too,” she whispered.
“Don’t leave me,” he said. “I don’t want us to ever be apart again.”
She shook her head against his chest.
“This time, I’m asking ye to be my wife,” he said. “I can’t go on without ye.”
Ilysa was crying. Could she not forgive him? He had to persuade her.
“I love ye so much, and I’m sorry I failed to trust ye,” he said. “If you’ll marry me, I’ll strive to be the man ye b
elieve I can be.”
“You already are that man,” she said, which was no answer.
“Ilysa, mo rùin, will ye have me?”
“I choose you for my husband, Connor MacDonald,” she said with a smile in her voice as she echoed Teàrlag’s prediction. “In truth, I’ve been yours for the asking since the day ye returned from France.”
The world fell away as he kissed her. Connor forgot the battles of today and tomorrow, the dangers facing his clan, and even the tombs of the dead surrounding them. At this moment, the lass who had danced away with his heart was in his arms. Ilysa had agreed to become his wife, and all things seemed possible.
“Your clothes are damp. Ye must be frozen, mo rùin,” he said when they finally broke apart. “Why did ye want to meet in this abandoned church, among the dead?”
“’Tis close to the battle,” she said, “and I thought we should do this in a neutral place where we could be certain of secrecy.”
“Secrecy? A neutral place?” he asked. “Why?”
The door creaked, and Connor whirled around, brandishing his claymore. In the doorway, he saw the outline of a giant warrior with a distinctive hunched shoulder.
“Connor,” Ilysa said from behind him and rested her hand on his shoulder. “Meet my grandfather, Alastair MacLeod.”
* * *
Ilysa grew weary as the two chieftains went around and around in negotiations that seemed to go nowhere. At first, it appeared they would come to a quick agreement after Connor informed her grandfather about their upcoming marriage and apologized for Sorely’s atrocities. But generations of bloody history could not be overcome so easily. The two men did not trust each other, and the discussions soon stalled.
Dawn was nearing, and the only point the two could agree upon was that Ilysa’s parentage should be kept secret. Alastair was adamant that a future chieftain of the MacDonalds not have a claim to the chieftainship of his clan, and Connor feared the taint of MacLeod blood could be used against his sons when his successor was chosen.
“The child I carry,” she said, interrupting them, “has the blood of both of ye.”
This was not how she had planned to tell Connor, but this had gone on long enough. Her announcement was met with startled silence, then Connor pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly.
“Would ye kill the man who is my grandfather and our child’s great-grandfather?” she asked him, and then she turned to Alastair. “And would you have my babe be fatherless?” For good measure, she added, “I’m tired, and I need my rest.”
After that, matters were settled swiftly. As Connor accompanied her back to Flora’s cottage, Ilysa was so filled with joy she could hardly contain herself. The agreement the two chieftains had reached to resolve their current conflict was an enormous victory. It had been too much to expect that the two rival clans would form a close alliance, but she had hope now that they could live in peace. And she would soon be Connor’s wife.
“Shh, don’t wake them,” she cautioned Connor outside the cottage door.
“I’ll come back for ye as soon as I can,” he said and embraced her once more. “You’ve made me the happiest of men.”
She watched his back until she could no longer see him in the dark. Hugging herself, she quietly opened the door so as not to wake the family, though she felt like shouting her news.
Connor and I shall marry! The battle for Trotternish is over!
She eased the door closed behind her. As she started to tiptoe across the room, a muffled sound made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Before she could scream, for the second time that night, a hand covered her mouth.
“Hello, Ilysa,” a familiar, deep voice rumbled in her ear. “I always knew a lass would be my nephew’s downfall, but I never guessed it would turn out to be you.”
CHAPTER 45
Connor was relieved when everything went as he and Alastair MacLeod had agreed. Though he had learned to trust Ilysa, he doubted he would ever fully trust her grandfather.
They made a pretense of negotiating the truce in the presence of their respective guards. As promised, Alastair agreed to withdraw his warriors from Trotternish, and Connor pledged a payment to compensate for Sorely’s acts. Though he had no idea how he would raise such a vast sum, he would do it. His clan’s lands were finally restored. And, without the constant threat from the MacLeods, he could turn his full attention to Hugh, who had been suspiciously quiet.
Connor sent the Trotternish men to their homes to share the good news and sent the rest of his warriors ahead to the castle so he could speak freely with Duncan, Ian, and Alex.
“Ilysa and I plan to marry,” he told them, which seemed to surprise only Duncan.
Duncan was too stunned to speak at first, and before he could get any words out, Lachlan came running toward them from up the path.
“They’re gone!” Lachlan shouted.
Connor’s stomach tightened into a knot. “Who’s gone?”
“Malcom is dead. My sister and the children are gone.” Lachlan’s chest heaved as he spoke between gasps for air. “Ilysa is missing as well.”
The blood drained from Connor’s head. God, no!
He ran until he reached the cottage. Just outside the open door, he saw a child’s rag doll. Inside, Malcom lay sprawled across the floor, a thick line of blood across his throat. The table was on its side and broken crockery littered the floor.
“It has to be Hugh who took them,” Connor said.
“He must have found out Ilysa was here,” Lachlan said, behind him. “He wouldn’t have done this just to take Flora and the children.”
Duncan knelt beside Malcom’s body. “He’s been dead a couple of hours, at least.”
“So many of our men passed this way since then,” Alex said, “that we won’t be able to find Hugh’s tracks.”
“Where would Hugh take them?” Connor ran his hands through his hair, trying desperately to think.
“We must go to my father’s,” Lachlan said. “He can lead us to Hugh.”
* * *
“The children can’t walk this fast,” Ilysa called to Hugh, who was at the front of the motley group of men herding them east across the peninsula. “We must slow down.”
“Any who can’t keep up will join their father,” Hugh said, which made the children cry harder.
“Damn ye, Hugh.” Ilysa was furious. “You’re making it worse.”
Hugh walked back to the girl who had fallen farthest behind, lifted her off the ground by her thin arm, and pulled his dirk.
“No!” Ilysa dropped Brigid and threw herself over the girl. As they crashed to the ground, she felt a sharp pain where Hugh’s dirk caught her shoulder. She looked up into his hard eyes and said, “I’ll carry her, too.”
“Just remember, I only need one of these bairns to make sure ye do as you’re told,” he said. “I’ll not risk having those four find us before I’m ready.”
“If ye harm these children, you’ll have the entire clan after ye,” she said.
“Once Connor is dead, I’ll be chieftain,” Hugh said with a smirk. “And people have a way of forgiving a chieftain.”
* * *
“Why would your father know where to find Hugh?” Duncan demanded, his eyes as cold as a winter’s pond.
Sweat broke out on Lachlan’s forehead at the thought of his nieces and nephews in the hands of Hugh’s men, and the fate of the two women was sure to be worse. Nothing else would have made him confess what he’d done to the four warriors glowering at him.
“My father is a traitor, and for a time, I was as well.” He paused. “I’m the man who shot the arrows at ye when ye were hunting near Dunscaith.”
Duncan roared and had his hands around Lachlan’s throat before the others pulled him off.
“Let him speak,” Connor commanded.
“I can explain on the way,” Lachlan said. “I’ve seen these foul men, and we must hurry.”
“Let’s go,” Connor ordered.
“Ach, let’s kill him now,” Duncan said after Lachlan finished. “There’s no excuse for what he did.”
“Ilysa trusts him,” Connor said. “I want to know why.”
“Some say she has The Sight, and I believe it,” Lachlan said. “She was the only one who saw that I harbored a dark secret that threatened you and was destroying me. She set out to persuade me that ye merited my loyalty.”
“Ilysa never told me she suspected ye were a traitor,” Connor said, turning eyes like blue ice on him.
“She had no proof. My guess is she didn’t think you’d believe her,” Lachlan said and saw a flash of pain cross Connor’s face. “She did threaten to kill me if I caused ye harm.”
“She would have done it, too,” Alex said with a laugh.
“Eventually I saw for myself that she was right. I’ve done nothing against ye since.”
When they reached his father’s, Lachlan went inside alone. He had not been here since he had told his father he would never act against Connor again.
“How dare ye step into this house after turning your back on your duty,” his father greeted him.
“Hugh has murdered Malcom and taken Flora and the children hostage. Ye must tell me where to find him.” Lachlan’s heart sank when his father’s stony expression remained unchanged. “What kind of man are ye?”
“One who will have my vengeance,” his father said.
“You’re a fool. All these years, ye blamed the wrong man,” Lachlan said. “Your friend Hugh murdered her.”
The Chieftain Page 28