Fianna Leighton - Tales of Clan Mackay

by Return to the Highlands

  “Ah, Nicky Mackay, you are mine,” Mary whispered. “I’ll not let you go so easily.”

  ***

  They had left the inn to travel down a rocky path between two mountains covered with glowing pink fans of color. Heather colored the hillsides, pink with some purple, bright amid the long green grass that hid stones that would break an ankle. Cows milled about occasionally, watched over by young boys, some no more than six or seven from what Mary could tell. Nicholas smiled as they passed, waving to one young child who ventured closer, curious about the travelers.

  “Is he alone?” Mary remarked, judging the boy to one of the youngest she’d seen.

  “Nay, I am sure there is more. The cattle are well kept, too valuable to be left to just one young highland boy.” Nicholas turned to look at Mary. “Make no mistake. They know what they are there for. Raiding is a family pastime in these hills, losing a cow or two is not good business.”

  Mary frowned as they passed the boy. “And if some are stolen? He cannot fight the men who come to steal.”

  “Of course not, his job is to alert someone who can. That is why there are more than one. They learn quickly to be vigilant and to live off the land.”

  “I suppose you spent many years doing just that.”

  Nicholas grinned. “Indeed, most of my summers were spent on the hills. Lost a few cows as well, to both Sutherland and Macleod raiders, and got my arse beat for letting them go. It is what makes us men, Mary.”

  She sighed. Her life had been far tamer, but her brothers had done much the same. It just seemed different looking at boys so young, alone and without protection from danger or even the elements. There was danger here, in the mist that had finally lifted, to the land, treeless and rocky as it was; it hid as much as it revealed. Fiona hummed softly beneath her breath, at ease riding behind Rory. Mary, however, felt uncommonly nervous.

  Nicholas moved ahead beside to his father where they spoke at some length, but quietly so none could hear. Sebastian slowed his horse to a walk beside Mary. The big horse seemed to covet Mary’s mount a bit too much, reaching with his head to nip at the smaller mare.

  She dragged at the reins to pull her mare free of the black’s nipping, sending Sebastian a cross glare. “Could you please control yer wretched beast, Sebastian Mackay?”

  “Oh, he’s got a mind of his own. He can’t resist a pretty lass, you know.” Sebastian winked at Mary wickedly.

  She rolled her eyes and looked away.

  “Call me Bastian,” he offered and held out a hand. “I’d like us to be friends, Mary Mackay.”

  Mary shivered at the sound of her new name. “Why?”

  “Because, lass, you just might be the anchor we’ve needed to keep my brother at home. Defending you will keep him a might busy.”

  Curious, she turned toward Sebastian. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Only that a lass as pretty as you are will no doubt draw men like flies, both the curious and those willing to go a step further to smite Nicholas Mackay a blow.”

  She blinked at the image he brought to her head. “I won’t be the cause of any unrest,” she declared stiffly.

  Sebastian laughed. “Ye’ve been a matter of unrest for poor Nicky since he’s met you. They tell me you dragged him off the field at Bannockburn. Why?”

  “He was still alive. I couldn’t let someone finish him off.”

  Sebastian nodded approvingly. “Ye are a tough lass. We are in your debt for saving his life. It is good to see ye twisting him inside out as well.” He patted her knee, squeezing it deftly.

  Mary gripped his wrist and lifted his hand free of her knee. “Touch me again, Bastian, and I’ll cut yer hand free of yer arm.”

  He grinned and drew his hand back to rest it over his heart. “Ah, ye cause me much sorrow to think ye would do such a thing when I meant no harm…” A keen whistling noise brought his head up sharply, interrupting his speech. A moment later, Sebastian reeled back with a gasp when an arrow seemed to blossom from his chest. Deflected by his leather gauntlet, it impaled him though part of his hand and into his shoulder. Mary screamed as Sebastian groaned and nearly slid off the horse in shock.

  A moment later, Rory dragged her from her saddle, shoving her beside Fiona between the horses. He pressed the reins into their hands and then was gone, while Sebastian lay over the neck of his horse, gasping for breath.

  Mary grabbed his horse, punching the animal when it tried to nip at her. The other horses pranced around nervously, their riders dismounting to melt instantly into the heather clad hills around them.

  “We’ve got to get him off the horse,” Mary hissed.

  Fiona nodded and between them, they dragged Bastian down to lie on the road. “If we keep the horses close, they’ll provide some protection.”

  “Our protection is the men combing the hillside,” Mary declared. She glanced anxiously at the steep terrain. “Help me drag him to the side. There’s water to clean his wounds.”

  They managed to slide Sebastian to the roadside, propping him against a rock. He gripped the shaft impaling him, but was too weak to pull it free with only one hand.

  “Ye’ll have to do it, Mary,” Bastian gasped.

  “If I do ye will bleed to death.”

  “No worse than dying with it stuck in me,” he argued. “Bloody cowards to fight behind the hills.”

  “It sounds like typical Highland warfare to me,” Mary said sourly. She snapped off the feathered end of the arrow, wincing as Sebastian groaned.

  “Aye, perhaps,” Bastian agreed hoarsely, “but still a coward not to show himself.” He grinned, blood staining his teeth from where he’d bitten his lip. “They’ll find the bastards, no doubt. Pull it free, there’s a good lass.” He choked when she shoved it through, pulling the arrow from his back. He cursed weakly, but managed to stay upright. His fingers bit into Mary’s arm. “Careful, lass, there may be more of them out there.”

  Fiona ripped off pieces of her skirt and held them to his chest. “Highlanders just don’t know how to die.”

  A set of footsteps drew Mary to her feet, her fingers shaking around the small dagger she pulled from her belt. Nicholas appeared above her and then dropped down to the roadway. “Is he hurt badly?”

  “The arrow did not pierce anything important,” Fiona declared knowingly. “It is pretty high in his shoulder.”

  Nicholas knelt in front of Sebastian. “Bloody Macleod thought he could kill you.”

  Sebastian opened one eye to look at his brother. “A Mackay is not so easy to kill.”

  Mary slid the dirk back into her belt, relieved to see Nicholas well. “Did you find the man?”

  Nicholas stood up, his expression grim. “Aye, but from a distance. It was a Macleod, no doubt. They’ll find injuring Bastian a bad decision.”

  “Was he just another of yer clan enemies?” Mary asked irritably. She looked at the hills around them. “How many do we have to fear, Nicholas? How many mountains do we pass where I must fear a stray arrow will take you down?” She stepped back when he reached for her. “Nay, don’t touch me. Fear tears my heart. Such violence makes me ill.”

  “It is our way of life, Mary,” Nicholas said in a low voice. “As you well know.”

  Pressing a hand to ease the fear lodged in her chest, she turned to face him. “Aye, as I well know, Nicholas Mackay, but I don’t have to like it.” She spun away but didn’t get two steps before he caught her arm in the iron grip she remembered too well.

  “Nay, perhaps not, but flying into a snit over such a day doesn’t not become you. The Highlands are full of danger, no matter if I am a knight or simple herder. Life here is difficult. Should you not like it you may still return to Drymen.”

  She didn’t like his eyes, glinting with fury, yet she knew she couldn’t leave him, no matter her fear. The fates had led her to him; she had no choice but to follow his path.

  “Nay, I’ll not give you the satisfaction, Hi
ghlander,” she replied. “Ye took me, now reap yer reward.”

  His grip did not loosen, nor did his expression alter when he pulled her closer. Mary met the challenge in his gaze and he smiled faintly. “A tiger still, eh Mary?”

  “I am when I must be,” Mary retorted. She jerked back and he released her arm.

  “Whatever she is, we must be on our way,” Donald Mackay declared striding down from the hill. “The man is gone and we cannot pursue with Bastian injured. Varrich is another day’s ride. We will not stop for the night, passing as we will through Sutherland land.”

  Nicholas nodded and lifted Mary to her horse. He caught the reins to hand them up to her. “Fear not, Mary, I have no intention of meeting Fate herself for some time yet.”

  His assurance did not lighten the lump in her throat at all.

  ***

  Sebastian cursed the pain radiating from his shoulder. He leaned over the neck of his horse fingers loose on the reins and eyed the road ahead blearily. Nicholas had taken the lead with their father on the final leg to Varrich. Mary rode beside Sebastian, her expression full of concern. He smiled at her to let her know he was fine. She sniffed at him. The weather had turned foul and Bastian pulled up his plaid to cover his head, much as the other Highlander’s did. Mary shivered, her fingers white on the edges of her cloak.

  What had drawn his brother’s interest, Bastian wondered? Was it much the same as the feelings he’d held for the Macleod woman, a tall willowy creature that he could not erase from his mind? He leaned back to let the cold rain drizzle on his face. It chilled the heat radiating in his shoulder and allowed him to think clearly.

  Nicholas’s return would put them to sorts, complete the family circle as it had not been since Nicholas had left. His homecoming would certainly stir things up. It wouldn’t be long before Torquil Macleod made his presence known and more than likely involving some bloodshed. Bastian grimaced and shifted his arm. Once Torquil heard Nicholas was back, it would be far worse. It would be wise to be wary. Might behoove them to ascertain just where the Macleod was in fact. Their lands were extensive, remote like most of the Highlands with many glens and valleys. Macleod would not hide from the Mackays, but it wouldn’t hurt to take a look all the same. Stealing a few cows would make the trip profitable.

  And better yet, it would give him an opportunity and excuse to look for the Macleod woman. It had been a long time since he’d checked on her. His days of waiting for her were growing long.

  Sebastian smiled and ducked back under his plaid as Varrich appeared ahead of them. Mary sniffed again and then leaned forward to study the castle. Nicholas looked back over his shoulder with a frown marring his brow. Was he worried that his wife would not like the castle? Sebastian leaned close to Mary. “Tis warm at least,” he offered.

  She smiled faintly. “Warm and dry, it is a lot to be thankful for, Sebastian. You will see that shoulder looked at again, will you not?”

  He grinned, unfazed by the pain. “It is nothing, Mary. I could ride another day yet.”

  Mary rolled her eyes. “I shall not feel bad for you then when ye fall off yer horse.”

  Sebastian laughed, amused by her pertness. Nicholas looked back again, brow lifted curiously.

  ***

  The horses slogged through the mud. Rain had made things damp and wet, the air chill with the wind off the sea. Mary rode huddled beneath the hood of her cloak. Nicholas moved his horse closer to hers, touching her elbow. He must have meant it as a measure of comfort she decided as Mary shivered in the cold, her feet nearly frozen beneath her wet skirts. The Highlands might be in the depths of summer, but with the icy wind from the north sea, it felt more like winter. Nicholas did not seem to mind, his eyes bright with anticipation.

  She studied the castle as they drew closer, the tower just visible over the hills. She did not think her first sight of Varrich was as he had hoped it would be with the gray skies and rain. A square tower set high on a bluff, it over looked the shallow depths of the kyle, while the rugged mountains cradled the keep within their grasp in long undulating hills. Clearing the small wood that bordered the kyle, looking much like a river in Mary’s mind, they started up the steep winding trail that led to the castle. Arriving at the keep, Mary could see there was little more than the building itself, a square stone castle sixty paces square, three stories high. A few smaller wooden buildings sat near it, but it was the tower that dominated the heights above them. A wide set of wooden steps led to the second floor and the keep’s main entry. Dismounting in the yard, the Mackay men led the horses around the corner to the stables under the main floor.

  Nicholas slid his arm around Mary’s hips and then brushed his lips over her brow to lighten her mood. “It’s just as I remembered,” he said and tilted his head back to stare up at the tall stone structure.

  A wooden rampart extended beyond the walls at the top. Mary could see men leaning over the wooden railing, their greetings to Nicholas distant with the wind. Mary smiled faintly, her hands pressed over her arms to keep her cloak from blowing apart in the breeze. She said nothing, only stared at the expanse around her as she stepped around a wayward chicken crossing her path and then allowed Nicholas to lead her up the steps into the keep.

  Inside, Donald sat on a bench near the fire with a cup of ale in hand.

  “So, what do you think of Varrich, Mary Drummond Mackay?”

  Mary pulled off her hood before she answered. “I cannot say as yet, my lord, it is but a few moments of viewing that I’ve had.”

  “The keep is small, but well enough for us here. Ye even have a room to yourself above with Nicky.”

  “Thank you, my lord, ye are too kind.”

  Donald lifted his glass in her direction. “It is the least I can do. Have Nicholas take ye about later, I am sure you are weary.”

  Nicholas waited for her to nod and then led her up a narrow set of stairs along one wall that led to the upper floor. A bank of rooms stretched down the hallway. He drew her forward to the last room and opened the door. Mary moved inside and then sat on the bed, hands folded in her lap. “Well, what now?”

  He leaned against the door. “You should rest. You must be tired.”

  “And you are not?”

  “Nay, I have things to do.”

  She stared at her hands. “I see.”

  He walked to her side and lifted her chin with his fingers. “I’ll not be gone long, Mary. I want to check on Sebastian and see to a few things.” She tried to pull away but he held her gently. “This is your home; you may go as you please. I will be back before you wake.”

  He left, closing the door quietly. Mary stared at it for a long time, feeling suddenly homesick for her brothers. She rose to her feet to sit by a small fireplace opposite the bed. Shivering, she held her hands to the coals which gave off little heat. Someone had clearly seen them coming and had attempted to get things ready. She picked up the poker and stabbed the coals to bring them back to life. The peat began to smoke and then burst into a low smoldering flame. Settling on the floor in front of the fire, Mary studied the embers as if they could provide answers. This was her life now and she had no idea what to expect.

  ***

  “It is good to have you home, Nicky,” Donald said a moment later as Nicholas sat beside him. Bastian reclined on another bench in front of the fire, his chest bandaged proficiently by Fiona, arm in a sling. He lifted his mug at Nicholas.

  “Aye, the rebel son hath returned,” Bastian agreed. “Word will spread like wildfire that Nicholas Mackay has come home,” he continued with a toast to Nicholas. “Ye never do anything quietly, brother, do you?”

  Nicholas ignored Bastian. “So where is Hugh?”

  Donald shrugged. “He’s about; I left him in charge of the keep. He’s a good boy that one.”

  Nicholas remembered Hugh only as the youngest of the Mackays, fourteen when Nicholas left, a youngster bent on being a man. How had he grown? Well enough it seemed if D
onald Mackay was willing to leave him in care of the Mackay holdings. “Is Hugh still married to Branwen?”

  Donald took a plate one of the servants held out, setting aside his ale. “Aye. I wish you had come back when Hugh found you at Stirling. Might have settled Branwen a bit to have you here as well, but she’s good lass, if a wee bit spoiled I’d say.”

  Nicholas remembered her differently but did not speak of it to his father. “Hugh was good at spoiling things.”

  “Aye, like you, a bit of fey blood I think some days.” Donald grinned, himself an image, some said, of the wee folk of the otherworld with his slanted eyes and narrow face. Putting rumor aside, Donald Mackay was fey only in his workings; cunning and keen, his machinations had made the Mackay a powerful Highland clan.

  “Will you stay?” Donald asked softly.

  Nicholas studied the fire. Bastian had slumped against the wall, eyes half closed, yet still aware. “Aye, for a bit.”

  “She’s a fine one,” Donald mused.

  Nicholas curled his lip. “We will see.”

  “Have you any doubts, lad?”

  He considered the woman, what she had done. “No, not really. She saved my life. It was only fair to do the same for her.”

  “Maelcolm Beg had plans for her?”

  “Aye, which I’ve ruined quite handily,” Nicholas admitted.

  “Good for you both then,” Donald decided. “It is good for the Mackays to be bound with the Drummonds in this day.