Highland Archer

by Hildie McQueen

  “You leave today, darling girl. I know it is hard to go away from your home. I was young and afraid like you. So I understand completely.”

  Fiona flung herself into her mother’s arms allowing the quiet strength to seep into her. “I am not afraid mother. I am bothered.”

  “Oh, Fiona,” her mother replied with a chuckle. “Poor Laird Steaphan has his work cut out for him with you.”

  “Fiona!” Her husband rushed outside only to stop when spotting her. He lowered his voice. “I thought you’d run away.” He looked to her mother. “Is something amiss?”

  Her mother smiled at him. “Not at all. The packing will be done shortly. I will personally oversee it.” She skirted around him and went to the side door, turning to give Fiona a meaningful “behave” look before disappearing into the darkened entrance.

  Fiona squared her shoulders and slid a sideways glance at Steaphan. In the morning light, she could make out slight creasing in the corners of his eyes. There was light stubble on his jawline and his eyes were a bit reddened. She’d not considered how much the responsibility of leading a clan could weigh on his shoulders.

  He met her gaze. “We must leave today. I cannot delay our departure. There is much to do in Gladdaugh.”

  “I understand you are, indeed, busy with your responsibilities. I planned to come to you once I was prepared. Now it has become a rushed affair that would have been avoided if for just one tiny detail.”

  He lifted a brow, his gray gaze on her face. “What detail might that be, wife?”

  “Listening to me.” She moved around him and dashed to the house, not wanting to chance he’d catch and chastise her. Instead, he laughed, the deep sound making her grind her teeth. The man was infuriating.

  * * *

  Each day that passed without Valent was agony for Ariana. Almost two weeks since she’d seen him and, yet, each time she entered the great room it was impossible to keep from searching for his presence. The evening meals had become an ordeal and, more oft than not, she opted to have food brought to her chambers where she ate with only Lily, her constant shoulder to lean on, for company.

  It was unfair to her brother Ceardac, who, like her, had just lost their two brothers. She was well aware of it. Yet it was hard to fathom that, forevermore, her life would be as such.

  Without Valent.

  Ariana kept her gaze downcast and made her way to the front of the great room. Someone reached out and touched her hand and she looked over to see a young child. The boy was a foundling, just as Valent had been so many years before. Ariana had insisted the boy be allowed to live in the keep. Orphaned after the last battle with the McKenzie Clan, as his mother had died at birth and his father was killed when the village fought the attacking damn McKenzies, there was no one left to care for the child.

  “Sit with me?” The young lad’s innocence made her smile and instead of sitting at the long table with him, she took his proffered hand and pulled him alongside her to the high board.

  Ceardac watched with interest, but did not seem at all displeased when she sat the child next to her. “What is your name?” he asked the boy who stared at him with wide eyes, somehow seeming to realize Ceardac’s higher position.

  “David, like me father,” he responded in a soft voice. “I four years old,” the child finished proudly.

  “A proper young man you are,” Ceardac told him and returned to his conversation with Murray, the leader of the guard.

  Lily smiled down at the boy and then looked to Ariana. “I see young David has a champion in the laird’s sister.”

  “How could I not? He is simply precious.” Ariana let out a long sigh. “Left alone to fend for himself. His father gave his life defending our village. It’s the least we can do.”

  They were both silent watching the boy eat with gusto before reaching for a cup to wash down his food.

  “Ariana, I must discuss something with you after the meal.” Ceardac’s cryptic request put her on edge. What happened now? If Ross McLeod of Skye changed his mind on becoming betrothed, she would be grateful. Perhaps that was it, but from the set of Ceardac’s jaw and furrowed brows, whatever it was did not make him happy in the least.

  “What do you think it is about?” Lily leaned into her ear. “Bad news?”

  Ariana stole another glace at her brother. “I cannot think of what is could be. I am praying to be released from my betrothal to Ross McLeod.”

  “Aye, that would not sit well with Ceardac. Neither would any news of Valent sit well,” Lily added.

  Ariana scanned the room and found Valent’s usual place at one of the tables. It remained empty as if the rest of the guardsmen expected his return.

  “I doubt anyone will ever hear from or about Valent again. He planned to travel very far when he left.” Although she spoke with words matter-of-factly, her chest constricted. “It may be nothing of vital importance that my brother wishes to speak about.”

  Both knew that wasn’t true. Ceardac’s demands on his time were constant. That he asked her to set aside time meant he had something of importance to discuss.

  She admired the way he fell into the role of laird. Taking command with ease, seeming to be fair and equal to the people, while maintaining a good distance. He was tall and attractive, more stoic than easygoing.

  “When would you like me to come to you brother?” Ariana asked and waited as he mentally went over his plans for the evening.

  “Promptly upon the meal’s end,” he replied and opened his mouth to say something else but someone came up and tapped his arm. Immediately, his attention was diverted from her.

  * * *

  Ceardac’s study had been their father’s and his father’s before him. It had never been a room to Ariana’s liking. The walls were dark and on every one hung a tapestry depicting battle scenes. The laird commanded from a sturdy table that was washed in dark stain. The chair in which she sat opposite it was upright and hard. She looked to the wall behind her brother to a scene of a warrior atop a horse spearing another.

  Her emotions rolled and she looked to Ceardac who spoke with Murray, a guardsman, in low tones. There seemed to be a problem between two guardsmen who battled for first position as archer. The one left vacant by Valent.

  Her brother’s gaze went to her before he spoke to the guard. “Tell the men they will compete tomorrow. Whoever bests the other will have the position. In my opinion, both are good fighters.”

  When his first left, Ceardac let out a breath and rubbed his temples with his fingertips.

  Ariana went to him, placing her hands on his shoulders. She massaged the tightness from his shoulders. “You are allowed to rest, brother. You cannot continue at this pace.”

  “It helps me not think of so much loss. I prefer to remain occupied,” he replied honestly. “Idle time does not suit me right now.”

  “We start anew. We are no longer at war and the rebuilding of the village is underway. The people admire you and although they come constantly for hearings, I believe ’tis because they want a different decision than the ones given by Donall,” she told him referring to their older brother who’d been killed when the McKenzies attacked.

  “You are probably correct.” Ceardac studied her when she moved away to stand beside his desk. “Your intelligence astounds me at times.”

  Ariana rolled her eyes and smiled. “Does it? I’ve always been smarter than you.”

  His chuckle pleased her.

  “Perhaps we can plan a clan festival. Food, music, plenty of ale.” Ariana walked about the room. “We have to do something to raise not just our spirits, but those of the clan as well.”

  “It is too soon, sister,” Ceardac told her, his countenance becoming serious, once again. “Have you heard from Valent?”

  The question caught her off guard. Ariana fell into a chair and looked to her brother. “No, I have not. Nor do I expect to. He left without saying a word. And although you will probably not like to hear it, I have to tell you that I fe
el he cared for me. I know there is something special between us. If he left, it was because he did not want to cause any problems for me. He cared not for what happened to him.”

  She could not make out what Ceardac thought; he maintained a neutral expression. Ceardac raised his glass of whiskey and studied it before speaking. “Some of the men want to mark him as a traitor to the clan. Many think he went to join with the McKenzie.”

  Her breath caught and she touched her palm to her chest. “That is ridiculous. Valent refused the McKenzie’s offer to join with him and go to Claddaugh, in front of me and those present.”

  Ceardac nodded. “When the McLeod of Skye mentioned killing the McKenzie, I saw something in Valent. For a moment, he was affected by the thought of his brother dying. Although they did not grow up together, it doesn’t mean an instant bond was not built.”

  “I cannot attest to what I did not see, but I refused to think he would join with the McKenzies, regardless of the fact his brother is laird. He does not know them, never knew about the relationship until that day.” She searched the doorway for the guardsman, Murray. “What does Murray say? He and Valent were quite close.”

  “He is one of the few who believes as you do. He maintains that something happened to Valent; that he did not depart of his own free will.”

  “What?” Ariana wanted to grab Ceardac’s tunic and force him to speak faster. “Why would Murray think such a thing?”

  Ceardac studied her for a moment as if assessing whether to divulge what he knew or not. Finally, he spoke. “A villager attests to having seen some men tussle in the forest. Claims two men struggled to load up another into the back of a wagon.”

  “Oh God. We should attempt to rescue him. Valent is probably a prisoner of the McKenzies. Why are we not doing something?”

  Ceardac rubbed his hands down his face. “First of all, Valent is a McKenzie from birth. Secondly, the villager is never sober enough to see anything clearly and thirdly, our truce with the McKenzies is tender at best. This is not the time to risk another battle for an archer.”

  “But…” she began and sank back into a chair, not sure if there was any argument that would work to the truth of what her brother spoke.

  “I’m sorry to bring you more despair right now, sister,” Ceardac said. “However, I felt it was important that you knew and not heard about it during a meal or some sort of thing. There is another issue I must discuss with you.”

  She could barely catch her breath. In her mind, she already formulated a plan to get several guards to accompany her to ride to Claddaugh and ask the McKenzie for Valent’s release. Surely, he valued the truce as much as they did and he did not intend to harm his own brother.

  Ceardac cleared his throat. “I will be married soon. Therefore, it would be best if you began the task of preparing the household for the exchanging of duties to someone else.”

  “What?” She jumped to her feet and rushed to the table where Ceardac sat. Hands on top, she leaned forward to meet his gaze. “To whom?”

  “Genevieve Grant, the laird is quite displeased at Steaphan McKenzie’s abrupt cancellation of his engagement with her. His last minute marriage to a McLeod lass meant the Grant had to find another husband for his daughter. He sent a messenger a few days ago and we came to an agreement. This would give us an alliance with a neighboring clan and a good show of force if the McKenzie were to consider fighting us again.”

  “What about…” She began to say Lily, but did not feel at liberty to ask. That she knew of, there was nothing more than innocent attraction between Ceardac and her friend. Besides, Lily had grown up with them, worked as Ariana’s maid until the attack when they’d decided it was best if Lily posed as a lady friend of hers. After that, she’d remained in the role.

  “Are you sure, Ceardac? Do you not love anyone else?” She peered at his face in an attempt to catch any signs of what he thought

  He looked across the room and released a long breath. “Up until lately, I always thought I’d marry someone I loved or cared for greatly. I never expected to be laird. Now it is about the people that I must think of. Not myself.”

  “I understand.” Ariana rounded the table and kissed his jaw. “I will do anything in my power to make Genevieve feel welcome and comfortable. You will be happy, Ceardac, you deserve it more than anyone I know.”

  “I pray you are right, dear sister.”

  There was a knock at the door and Murray looked in. “Laird, the guards are ready for you to witness the competition tomorrow at dawn.”

  Their time, it seemed, had come to an end.

  Chapter Twenty

  The knocks at the door made Valent grimace. It was not likely they would leave if he did not reply. He was not a guest after all, but a prisoner. The door cracked open and a face peered in.

  It was a woman. Not one of the servants who daily came. Usually, it was either maids with food and drink or one of the guards who came in and searched the room to ensure he didn’t have any weapons. His brother had been detained, he’d been told. The reason was not explained, nor did he ask.

  Whatever his brother planned did not matter to him except if it affected Ariana. One of the first things he’d ask upon Steaphan’s appearance would be if he’d gone to attack the McLeods once again.

  The woman looked him over as if assessing if it was safe to enter. “Darach, do you remember me?”

  He narrowed his eyes and studied the woman who’d stepped into the room, leaving the door just a bit ajar. “No, I do not know you.”

  Although her smile was familiar, he couldn’t fathom who she was. Her hair was dark like his and her eyes a shade of blue, like the sky on a clear day. “I’m your sister, Sorcha.” She waited looking to him expectantly.

  Valent wasn’t sure what to do, so he motioned to the table and chairs. “Would you like to sit?”

  “Of course.” She walked ahead of him to the table and he poured some mead, which Sorcha accepted with a bright smile. “I came with my husband and two children to meet you upon hearing of your return. I could not wait to see you as Steaphan’s messenger announced you may not remain here long.”

  Without warning, she got to her feet, rushed around the table and threw her arms around him. Valent stood with his arms to his sides, not sure what to do. Finally, when he heard her sniffle, he patted at her back awkwardly.

  A sister. He did not remember a sister. Perhaps there were some vague memories of a girl playing with him. Singing to him.

  “Did you sing to me?”

  “Yes!” Sorcha exclaimed looking up at him with shiny eyes. “You remember that?”

  “Aye, a bit.” He was somewhat relieved when she moved away and sat. “I was very young. Do not remember much.”

  “I understand. I was six when you were taken, so I remember a bit more.” She wiped at her face with a kerchief. “I hope you can join us for the evening meal and meet my husband and your nieces. Both of them have your eyes.” Sorcha sniffed but smiled.

  Valent had not left the chamber except a couple hours a day to walk in the courtyard while under guard. He’d spent the time with Arrow, who seemed to have adjusted well to life there.

  “If you wish, I will attend the meal. It would be my pleasure to meet your daughters.” Valent kept from calling them nieces, as he did not feel a kinship with the McKenzies.

  Sorcha took a dainty sip from her cup. “What about you. Do you have a wife and children?”

  Although she claimed to be his sister and he felt it was true, Valent did not feel enough at ease to have a conversation. He’d never been in a situation where he sat with someone and conversed. He cleared his throat and looked past her to the door. It remained open so the guards could enter if Sorcha became alarmed. “No. I am not married. Has Steaphan returned?”

  “He should arrive before the evening meal. From what the messenger said, he should have left Mudduch by now.”

  He recognized the name she spoke. It belonged to a small McLeod clan a half days’
ride away. Why had Steaphan remained there for so long? “Does he return alone?” Valent drank his mead attempting a neutral expression.

  “Oh, you are not aware?” Sorcha laughed and shook her head. “Of course, you probably arrived just as he left. He married the McLeod’s daughter, Fiona. From what I understand, it was a rushed affair.”

  “Married?”

  “Oh yes, our families have been on friendly terms for all of my life. I’m sure it was the only way from being pulled into the conflict with the McLeods of the south.”

  Once again, he was struck by how much he didn’t know about the McKenzies and, for just an instant, he wondered if he should agree to remain. Learn what he could about them. The problem was that he knew, deep inside, that it would not last. Could not last. He was not part of this world.

  Sorcha continued unabated, not seeming to be discomfited by his silence. “I always wondered where you were. In my heart, I knew you were out there somewhere. I prayed for you, hoping you were well.”

  He had not been well. As a foundling with the McLeod Clan, he’d had to fight for scraps of food, barely able to talk and desperate. When Tavish took pity on him and brought him to live in a cottage in the forest, he’d finally had daily meals. The hardships of his life had continued for his entire life. The laird turning a blind eye to his sons constantly beating him. His back was striped with marks from being whipped just a few weeks earlier.

  Very rare were the times he was well. Yet when he considered it, most of those times were when he was with Ariana. Admittedly he’d not remained long enough to see what his life would have been like with Ceardac as the new laird, but it was impossible to remain. Daily life, seeing Ariana, would be too hard.

  She’d remarry and leave, of that he was sure. As beautiful as she was, Ariana would not be alone for long.