Fianna Leighton - Tales of Clan Mackay

by Return to the Highlands

  Nicholas stared at her in disbelief. Hugh looked between them, his mouth a grim line. “When I left her she was safe,” Nicholas said. “I could do nothing more.”

  Branwen’s eyes narrowed. “She risked everything for you and you left her behind. How gallant as a knight of the realm.”

  “He did what he could,” Hugh said. “Nicholas had little choice. I am sure he would not have left her if he thought her in serious danger.”

  Branwen shook her head. “You are still so naïve, Hugh Mackay. I know more about Nicholas than you do. Do you not know he offered me money for my favor?” She stepped backwards as Hugh scowled. “Of course you do, you all laugh at that story. Go ahead and laugh now, lad.” Her eyes glinted with hatred as she gestured toward Nicholas. “He knows what he is. A murderer, a liar like all of you. I expected to find some semblance of nobility here, a castle with men at arms, riches as a chieftain of a clan should have. And you had nothing but a pile of stones on the sea. It was not worth my time.”

  Nicholas lifted his chin. “I told you before; Varrich would not be yours even were I to die.”

  She curled her lip, hissing. “Why would I want it? I mean only to destroy it, to see it burned to the ground.”

  “I’ve heard enough.” Bastian declared in a cold voice. “It does not matter her reasons. She deals with Macleod and god knows who else. The keep lies empty and we still have no answers.”

  Hugh held up a hand. “No, not yet.” He looked at Rory and then at Nicholas. “I am sorry ye had to come back to this.”

  Rory’s expression was as cold as Bastian’s. “She’s a demon, lad. She means yer family harm. Will ye stand for that?”

  Hugh reached out as if to touch Branwen but then paused, his voice low. “I loved ye. I swear I did -- at least at first.” Hugh pressed his hand to his temple as if it pained him. “Ye married me thinking I would be easy to manipulate. Ye took advantage of my vow. A Scotsman lives by his word, lass. Ye knew that. Even after I brought ye here, and I saw yer disappointment, I refused to give up. I had hoped ye would accept me, my land, my clan.”

  Branwen lifted her head, her gaze malicious as she stared at Hugh. “I never liked this land. I will be glad to be rid of it.”

  Hugh shook his head sadly. “Whose else have ye lain with, Branwen? How many laugh at me, at the Mackay for harboring ye, knowing ye for the wretched witch ye are?” His expression hardened as he took a step closer to his wife. “My people were innocent of any wrongdoing. Did ye purposely harm Peg? When she trusted ye, when I trusted ye?”

  Branwen tried to run but Hugh caught her arm, dragging her back. He threw her on the ground at Bastian’s feet. “What else have ye done?” He paused suddenly, lifting a hand to his brow. “Donald went to the Mackenzie,” he said. “He mentioned something about receiving a message.”

  A chill creep up Nicholas's neck. “What would call him away from Varrich?” He felt a deep sense of dread, an emotion reflected in Hugh’s green eyes.

  “Trouble at the Mackenzie stronghold, urgent, he said.” Hugh stared at the empty castle behind Nicholas, then at the blood staining the ground. “He would not have taken everyone. Would not have left the keep vulnerable.”

  Nothing would have been critical enough to leave the keep relatively unprotected. The blood meant there had been fighting, yet there were no bodies, nothing to tell what had happened. Nicholas turned toward the lane leading down to the kyle, tilting his head to stare intently into the shadows of the wood below. Sebastian moved behind him, his body full of tension.

  “What d'ye see, lad?”

  The figures appearing were on foot. It took only a few moments to make out Ann, her arm held by one of the older servants, slowly making their way up from Varrich wood, followed closely by Fiona and several more clansmen. Sebastian shoved Nicholas aside, both of them running the length of the road to where Ann stopped, leaning heavily on the man beside her.

  “Mother!” Sebastian lifted Ann into his arms, hugging her tightly.

  Nicholas searched the road behind them, his heart in his throat. “Where is Mary, Ann? Have ye left her in the village? Are there more wounded?”

  Ann turned from Sebastian to look at him, her eyes bleak. “Ah, lad. She is gone.”

  He stared at her in alarm, his blood cold in his veins. “Gone?”

  “Aye.” She reached out to touch Nicholas’s cheek gently. “She said to tell ye she loved ye.”

  He nearly reeled at the finality of the statement, as if Mary did not mean to come back. “Where did she go? Has she left me?” The shock of it hit him hard, forcing him to step back, unable to breathe for the thought of it.

  Ann stepped forward in concern, her fingers gripping his wrist to gain his attention. “Nay Nicky, she's gone with him, the Earl of Sutherland. He came for her, Nicholas. We could not stop him. She went for you, for the servants, for me, to keep us all from harm.”

  Nicholas felt numb, unable to take in her words. Sutherland? His breath returned in a rush, followed by a rage so great he thought he’d burst from it. “Sutherland!” he roared. “How the bloody hell did he get past our guards…”

  Nicholas stopped and turned abruptly, running the rest of the way back to the courtyard in front of Varrich where Branwen still stood defiantly. Nicholas grabbed her shoulders, jerking her in front of him, his face only inches from hers. “What have ye done, woman?”

  Branwen's fingers curled into his tunic, her lips curved into a mockery of a smile as she leaned in closer, close enough to kiss him had he wanted it. “I've taken my revenge, Nicholas Mackay. Sutherland wanted in, I got him in. Donald Mackay will be found dead on the road to Mackenzie, what men he left here easy prey once they ate the special treat I gave them.” She laughed, eyes suddenly clouded with insane glee. “Oh I wish I could have seen them, retching their life away, while those left to guard your treasures were so few I am sure Sutherland laughed at their efforts.”

  Nicholas’s jaw ached with the effort to control his rage, but it was Hugh that intervened, pushing them apart to grasp his wife's arm, dragging her away from Nicholas.

  Hugh stared down at Branwen, his voice hardly audible. “How many men have ye coerced? How many have ye killed this day?”

  She laughed then, her gaze filled with disdain. “You have many enemies, Hugh Mackay, and very few left to defend this pile of rock.”

  Hugh drew his sword, and before anyone could have stopped him, he plunged it swiftly through Branwen's chest.

  She staggered backwards, her eyes wide with shock, hands wrapped around the blade. Another step and then she dropped to one knee, coughing once. She fell to the side, her dark hair a fan of silk on the road. Hugh knelt beside her and gripped the hilt of the sword. Branwen gazed blearily at Hugh. “It was to be ours… might have let you live…” she trailed off, her breath hitching as her eyes closed.

  Hugh stared at her, shoulders stiff with his fists clenched at his side. “Ours,” he hissed. “It was never to be ours.”

  Branwen spoke, her voice distant and faint. “I… you were supposed to love me,” she whispered. “Done anything for me…”

  “Aye,” Hugh replied. “I’d have done anything for ye, Branwen.” He grasped the hilt of the sword and pulled it free.

  Branwen coughed. She stared at Hugh, eyes wide and unfocused.

  “I brought ye here,” Hugh declared stiffly. “I will take ye out.”

  Ann Mackay reached the courtyard just as Branwen died. Sebastian stepped ahead to block her view, but she pushed him out of the way. “Let me see,” she insisted. She frowned at Branwen without speaking and then looked at Hugh as he rose to his feet, breathing heavily, still gripping his sword.

  “The Earl has taken Mary,” Ann said “We’ve lost Ned and William to Sutherland, Harold and Donan were injured but survived the Earl’s attack, but many more still lie ill in the village, left behind on my order.”

  “I’m going after her,” Nicholas declared, b
ut before he could move, a hand on his shoulder held him back.

  Sebastian shook his head. “Not riled as ye are,” he said quietly. “We need to think clearly. This is not an addled Macleod we are dealing with, but the canny Earl of Sutherland.”

  “He has my wife,” Nicholas stated as he shoved Sebastian’s hand off his shoulder.

  “Aye he does. And Da is not here either. Have ye no concern for him?”

  “Donald went to Mackenzie,” Ann said. “I don't believe him dead. I'd know it, were he to pass.” She gave them no time to argue. “He left with no knowledge so many fell ill here, nor would he have left Varrich so unprotected. I worry yet that he may have fallen by the road.” She closed her eyes and then shook her head with a deep sigh. Staring once again at Sebastian and Nicholas she continued resolutely. “Sutherland appeared soon after Donald left. He was in league with Branwen, he admitted it. But we must find Donald first.”

  Nicholas inhaled slowly. Sebastian was right. He needed to calm the red haze from his mind. The Earl would like nothing better than to see the Mackays flying after him, without thought, swords drawn in fury. Nicholas would not jeopardize his men in such a folly. He relaxed, allowing Sebastian to take their mother inside. He followed but stopped on the stair, looking back over the Kyle below the wood, to the far off reaches of eastern Scotland where Sutherland would flee.

  Come hell or high water, he would get Mary back.

  They gathered inside the hall, leaving Branwen below in the stables. Hugh sat on a bench alone, but his gaze moved often to Nicholas, his mouth set in a grim line.

  Sebastian sent several clansmen to search for Donald Mackay. They left swiftly, fading into the cool autumn sunset, their plaids melting into the surrounding heather as if part of the landscape. Rory sat near Nicholas as if by his very presence he could cool the fury roiling in Nicholas’s head. Fiona hovered over Ann, worried for all of them.

  “We wait for Da,” Sebastian decided firmly. “He is clan chief, he must be with us, even if he is ill.”

  “It will take days for him to return,” Nicholas argued. “We will lose the trail if we wait that long.”

  Ann lifted her head. “Ye need no trail, Nicky. Sutherland left clear instructions. Ye will meet him at Samhain or not see her again at all. Don’t push him, lad. Do as he says, ‘tis not that far away. It will give Donald time and for ye all to consider what ye will do.”

  Nicholas gritted his teeth and kicked the bench aside. He strode rapidly to the door but Ann’s voice held him from slamming it behind him.

  “Keep yer temper hot, lad,” she said softly. “But keep yer mind on what ye must do.”

  ***

  Sebastian left Varrich an hour later, allowing himself little time to recover from the strain of what had happened. Nicholas had retired to his room, but Rory, unwilling to let Nicholas mull in private, forced his way inside until voices were raised and then followed by a heavy silence. Sebastian had no doubt Rory would have his way in keeping Nicholas occupied. Already a few benches sat outside in need of repair.

  Bastian smiled grimly. He understood exactly how Nicholas felt. Between Macleod and Sutherland, the Mackay’s would find little sleep for the next fortnight.

  It took forever to reach the glen where Eben had taken Rose. The night’s ride had cooled his temper and left him chilled by the icy north wind coming off the sea. Rain weighted the clouds over head, a reminder of his last stay at the cottage, of the cold night spent in only his shirt. He grinned fiercely at the memory, reminded as well of the kiss he’d taken hours after.

  Wanting much more, Bastian hurried through the heather toward the hut. Eben looked up from where he crouched near the door, his dirk in hand, eyes narrowed to see who was there.

  He stood when he recognized Bastian and tucked the dagger back into his belt.

  “She is safe,” Eben remarked. “I’ve done as ye asked. No one has come about.”

  Sebastian sighed quietly and gripped the man’s shoulder in thanks. “I owe ye, Eben.”

  The clansman scratched his cheek, the grey beard nearly white. “She is a bonny lass even if a Macleod. I’d challenge ye for the lass had I a few less years, Bastian.” He glanced over his shoulder to the cottage and then frowned at Sebastian. “Donald will not like it, ye know.”

  Sebastian pulled Eben a few steps from the hut. “I am well aware of that. I’ll deal with my father’s impatience on my choice soon enough. Things, however, have gone badly at Varrich. We must return quickly.”

  Eben frowned, stiff suddenly as he tilted his head. “Trouble?”

  “Aye, the Earl of Sutherland has taken Mary. We’ve dead to account for, and our lady to retrieve, but not until Samhain. Sutherland’s a powerful laird, we’ve got to handle this well or we’ll find our lives and clan forfeit to the Bruce. Sutherland is the King’s man, it won’t be easy.

  Eben tucked the long edges of his plaid into his belt. Reaching for the shield he’d hung off his shoulder, he strapped the targe onto his arm. “Aye, nothing better than a fine bit of trouble to wake a man up?” Eben chuckled, but his eyes were grave. “I’ll be off, but I don’t like leaving ye behind.”

  Sebastian had reasons for that. “I’ll be safe enough, the wench will protect me.”

  Eben snorted in laughter. “Aye, no doubt of that. The one time I went inside she nearly took my head off with a pan. Go on then, I’ll send word to keep an eye out for ye, or any Macleods thinking to come back to hassle anyone.”

  Sebastian wasn’t concerned with that as much as getting inside to see Rose. “Go on. Send word for all to come to Varrich. I’ll be right behind you. Nicholas will not go to Sutherland alone.”

  Eben nodded and left. Sutherland’s clan rivaled that of the Mackay for strength and power. A nobleman and advisor to Robert as well, it would take some finesse to get Mary free without any harm. But that remained Nicholas’s problem to decipher for now. Bastian had other intentions.

  He waited until Eben was out of sight before pushing the door aside to duck under the low portal. The room was dim, the fire the only light. It brightened only a portion of the room in front of it, leaving the rest in shadow. Sebastian stiffened and ducked aside, lifting his arm to block the swing of Rose’s blade. He dragged her close, smelling the scent of heather that wafted from her hair, the faint odor of peat clinging to her clothes.

  She struggled silently, testing his strength. Sebastian smiled into the darkness, his fingers hard on her wrist as he snaked an arm possessively around her waist.

  She gasped when he lifted her off her feet, still holding her wrist fast in his hand.

  “Drop it lass.”

  “Nay, I’ve had enough of men, ye’ll not be next.”

  He frowned at the pain in her voice, his fury at Macleod resurfacing readily enough after dealing with Branwen. “I thought we had an agreement, Rose. I am here only to protect ye.”

  She grunted, shifting against his hips in a way that nearly made his eyes cross. “I thought about it some more, lad. I can’t do this. Torquil will kill me, aye, but he’ll kill ye as well.”

  Sebastian wanted to laugh but did not. He squeezed his fingers against the small bones of her wrist and she moaned, releasing the dagger. It fell to the floor with a thud. Rose went still then, unable to move in his arms, held easily in place against his chest.

  He delighted in the feel of her: the length of her thighs against his, the taut muscles as she held herself apart, the silky wash of her hair against the back of his arm. He tightened his grip, able to see her more clearly as his eyes adjusted to the gloomy confines of the hut.

  Rose put her hands against his chest to keep her distance. “I mean what I say, Mackay.”

  “Why do ye have such concern for me if ye do not wish my protection?”

  She sighed, her eyes wide as she tried to see his face. “I appreciate what ye’ve done, Sebastian. But ye must put me down.”

  “No.”

  Sh
e inhaled sharply. He grinned, enjoying her irritation.

  “I’m no flighty lass to swoon at the feel of yer body against mine,” she said.

  “Can ye feel me, then, Rose?” Sebastian asked wickedly. “Can ye tell how much I’ve been thinking of ye?”

  Truthfully, he’d had had little time to dwell on her and his intentions before arriving at the cottage. Having her in his arms now woke the desire he’d held for her for so long. It raged in his veins, brought a sweat to his brow as he fought to control the urge to toss her down beneath him even then. He lowered her gently to the ground and then, reluctantly, let her go.

  Rose stepped back toward the fire, a sassy lad in the breeches but for the long sweep of her hair. He admired the sleek line of her hips, outlined by the fire behind her, and the curve of her breast as she turned from him to grab a stick to poke at the fire.

  It crackled and flared, sending sparks around her feet. Sebastian checked his lust, clamping down hard on the emotion. He crouched beside her warily. “What would ye have me do, Rose?”

  She poked at the fire briskly, her face lit by the flames. “I don’t know.”

  “I cannot let ye go back, lass.”

  “Ye can’t keep me either,” she said in a low voice. Her gaze lifted toward him, a sultry shadow beneath her lashes.

  Sebastian held back a groan and smiled instead. “I can, if I so choose and ye know it.”

  She stopped digging at the fire. Staring at the coals, she sniffed faintly. “Arrogant man, ye cannot force a woman to like ye.”

  Sebastian’s smile slid into a wolfish grin that made her start. “I don’t have to, lass.”