A man emerged from the brush, holding a knife to Andrina’s throat.
“Two against one,” Alaxsander said. “And others coming, no doubt. That doesna seem fair, now does it? But I seem to have the advantage. And is that Lorcan MacDonald I see, the boy I used to beat as a lad?”
Martainn drew his sword.
“I wouldna do that,” Alaxsander said. “Ye Macleans do have terrible timing. Ye see, I’ve had this lass before. I’m the one who snapped the bone in her leg, after I had my fill of her. I was just about to enjoy her again, maybe break the other leg.”
Rage contorted Martainn’s features and he made to move forward. The look on Andrina’s face stopped him. There was little fear in her eyes this time. He had to trust her, though it was the hardest thing to stand there and wait. If he rushed Alaxsander, Andrina might die. Her eyes seemed to say, there are moments when waiting and not fighting is the bravest thing one can do.
“Yer timing is horrid indeed, for after I had this one, I would have enjoyed rutting between that one’s legs as well.”
Mollie moaned and her eyes fluttered open and then closed again.
“I’m here, lass, I’m here,” said Lorcan.
“Fat lot of good it’s going to do her,” Alaxsander said. He kept the knife pointed at Andrina’s throat while he turned his head slightly to wipe his nose on the sleeve of his other arm. Andrina used the moment to elbow him hard, drop to her knees, turn, and thrust the dirk she had hidden in her sleeve into his stomach. His eyes widened in shock and horror as blood gushed from his stomach and she backed away. Martainn finished the job, nearly slicing Alaxsander’s head off with his sword.
As Alaxsander slumped to the ground in a pool of blood, Martainn took Andrina in his arms.
“Kat taught me well,” she said. “I remembered.”
“She did teach ye well, lass. Ye were vera brave. What happened? Why did ye and Mollie go after Alaxsander alone?”
“He was one of the men who attacked me months ago. ‘Tis…true, what he said, Martainn. He is the one who broke my leg. I could not let him escape. He wanted to burn Malcolm and Conall at the stake.” Her voice trembled and he held her tenderly.
“Mollie followed me. On foot, with my slightly hobbled leg, it took us a while to find him. I think he wanted us to find him. ‘Tis a blur what happened next, it happened so fast, and not long before ye arrived, fortunately.”
Martainn let her take a breath before she continued.
“He ambushed us. We did not ken he hid in the brush here. Mollie only barely had time to draw her sword before he slashed at her. He punched her too, and she fell to the ground. He grabbed me while I was leaning over Mollie, and pulled me into the brush as he heard yer horses approach. But I remembered all Kat taught me; I pushed my fear deep down inside me and waited for the right moment.”
Chapter 36
Time slowed down. Mollie’s jaw ached. Her arm stung and throbbed.
The sounds of water plunging over the falls seemed thunderous. When she opened her eyes, the sight of Alaxsander’s bloody head, nearly severed from his body, greeted her.
She heard horses and men as they galloped into the clearing.
“My daughter….” Malcolm said, standing over her and Lorcan.
“She’s alive. Wounded, but alive.”
Everything was hazy. The sky above Mollie seemed like a storm-tossed ocean, her father’s shadow like a mountain. She didn’t know which way was up and which way was down. The dark arms of tree branches reached for her, threatening to pull her away from all she loved. Was that the shape of a large tree or the Celtic Goddess of the Dead who ensured the passage of those killed in battle to Tír na nÓg, the land of Eternal Youth?
She closed her eyes and felt like she was in an underground passage. She heard someone calling to her and felt something sting her face. There it was again.
She opened her eyes. Lorcan’s dark visage swam above her. It was Lorcan’s voice she’d heard, calling her back from the dead.
“Wake up, Mollie! Wake up and live!”
“Did ye just slap me, MacDonald? Tell me ye didn’t just slap me.”
“Aye, I did, lass. And ye’ll stay awake and live unless ye want me to slap ye again!”
Mollie knew she was wounded but the delirium she felt was not fear. It was joy. Strong, thumping, and unexpected.
Chapter 37
After Mollie’s shoulder wound was seen to, Malcolm closeted himself with several men in a parlor off the main hall to discuss an appropriate response to King James the Fourth sending a witch hunter into the Highlands.
Sorcha had told him all that Fonia had said before Fonia had given her life for the clan. Fonia had learned the men meant to capture Malcolm and Conall and bring them to Edinburgh Castle to see the king. Laise of the Marked Face was not supposed to kill Malcolm, but Fonia said it was the foolish man’s plan all along.
Malcolm and his men agreed—the most appropriate response was simply to send the jeweled dirk of the dead witch hunter back to the king. It was message enough; Malcolm was not foolish enough to set foot at Edinburgh castle a second time. If the king had issue or business with him, the king would have to set foot on the shores of Mull.
Malcolm sent riders to deliver the jeweled dirk to Edinburgh, to the palace. It was a dangerous errand, for they had to assume what Fonia heard was the truth, that the king had never intended to kill Malcolm and Conall, but to capture them and try them in Edinburgh. He could only warn the men to be careful in Edinburgh, to find a way to make sure the dirk was delivered but not from their own hands, lest they be caught and imprisoned, and to return home posthaste.
Malcolm knew James the Fourth was a young king, a king who led his soldiers into battle himself, employed an Italian alchemist in the hopes of discovering the elixir of life, and loved books and education. Perhaps he was a more reasonable man than his father, James the Third, a fearful and inept king who had tried to have Malcolm burned at the stake.
In the meantime, though All Hallow’s Eve had passed, the clan celebrated the women’s bravery, feasting long into the night, and children, to their great delight, were permitted to dress up in costumes and entertain for treats. Turnips were carved and candles placed inside the turnips. There was laughter as the children had their hands tied behind their backs while they tried to retrieve an apple from a pail of water using only their mouths.
A large dish of oatmeal and cream called fuarag was placed on a table. A ring, a coin and a button were hidden in the oatmeal. Lads and lasses sat around the table, supping with spoons. ‘Twas said the lad or lass who got the ring would be the first to wed; the one who found the coin would receive riches; and the one who found the button would never marry.
In the village, torches of burning fir were carried around homes and fields for protection. The villagers doused their hearth fires and each family solemnly re-lit their hearth from the communal bonfire, bonding the families of the village together.
Later children fell asleep on their mother’s laps as the Seanachie told his tales and all listened. He talked of Maclean ancestors who’d watched the shores for the approach of long ships filled with Vikings—large, brutish men in chain mail, who carried broadswords and torches. His tales were not only of Vikings. He talked of Scáthach, an ancient, legendary female warrior who was said to have lived in the Castle of Shadows on the Isle of Skye hundreds of years before Christ.
She was a mythical warrior queen whose name meant “Shadowy.” Some said she was the daughter of the King of Scythia and a teacher who trained only those young warriors already skilled and brave enough to penetrate the elaborate defenses of her fortress. Some said Scáthach was also a formidable magician with the Gift of Sight.
The next weeks would be tense, waiting for the king’s reaction. More men would be posted as lookouts on the walls to watch for any ships the king might be foolish enough to send sailing along the Hebridean coastline to the Sound of Mull. Anything that shifted even slightly in the
shadows would be given undivided attention.
Chapter 38
Mollie awoke to find Lorcan sitting by her bed, studying her face.
“Do ye like what ye see?” she teased. “I’m sure I look a fright.”
“’Twas foolish for ye to chase after Alaxsander MacDonald, into the woods.”
“Ye kent him?”
“Aye. He was cruel. He used to…well, it doesna matter now.”
“He was one of the men who hit ye when ye were a small lad?”
Lorcan nodded. “Going into the woods after him was foolhardy, Mollie. He was capable of great cruelty.”
She frowned. “If ye’ve come to chastise me, ye can leave now. I did what any man would do! I couldna let him escape unscathed. Alaxsander wanted to see my father burned at the stake.”
“Easy, lass. I came to see how yer feeling. How is yer arm?”
“Ye did save me from that savage,” she said. “I am grateful.”
Lorcan nodded, his blue eyes burning with an emotion she couldn’t name.
“My arm is alright. Besides, MacDonald, I have two.”
He laughed. “What did I tell ye about calling me by my name, lass?”
“I’m not daft. Maybe I was hoping I could get ye to kiss me again, like ye did in the gardens, beneath the stars. Ye see, I’m not sure if I liked it the first time.”
“Oh?” His blue eyes burned with challenge as he leaned over and kissed her tenderly, careful of her bruised jaw.
Mollie sighed, thrilled by the touch of his lips on hers.
He finally lifted his head. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Did ye like it?”
Mollie smiled, reaching up to caress his rough jaw, and her eyes drifted closed.
Ronald opened the door and Kat came in. She raised a brow. “Making sure Mollie is healing well? Ye seem overly concerned with the lass. I wonder why that is?”
He put his fingers to his lips. “She just fell asleep again.”
“I won’t wake her. I just wanted to see how she’s feeling.”
“The lass is stubborn. She’ll heal well.” Lorcan stood. “I’ll leave her to get her sleep and I suggest ye do the same.”
“In a moment,” Kat said.
Lorcan left and Kat shut the door. She stoked the fire in the hearth and then sat by the bed.
Mollie opened an eye. “Is he gone?”
Kat laughed. “Ye weren’t sleeping!”
“As if I could sleep in the presence of such a man!”
Mollie sat up in bed, winced, and stared at the crackling fire. “I grow bored lying in this bed. Tell me about yer brave brothers. What were they like as lads? I ken they protected ye from Angus Og when they could.”
“Aye. Before my mother died, we spent much time exploring the hills and the glens. We had several chaplains, who taught us letters and numbers and, of course, made sure we attended chapel. We played many a joke on our chaplains, so most didn’t stay long.” Kat smiled at the memory. “Ragnar was a great one for jokes. He was the loudest and had a laugh that made others laugh, even if they didna ken what they were laughing at. Lorcan, on the other hand, was the great studier of people and things. He was quiet. He never said much. If he had something to say, he often said it with his eyes.”
“Aye, he has vera expressive eyes,” Mollie said, blushing.
“Both brothers taught me archery and how to handle a sword, especially after my father died and chaos began to spread in the clan.”
“Ye slept in the stables, truly?”
Kat nodded. “Aye, to avoid Angus and his fists, and the fists of his devout followers. Angus hit me or kicked me for the slightest perceived offense. But not as often after Ragnar and Lorcan took the beatings for me. The chaplain’s mild thrashings on our rumps, given if we whispered during lessons, seemed as nothing after Angus’ fists.”
Kat fussed with the fabric of her skirts. “Angus was a hateful bastard who had not an ounce of mercy in his pathetic soul. When I was older, I did not like the way Angus started to look at me. Maybe that’s why I decided to dress as a lad and charge into battle. I remember thinking I’d rather die an honorable death in battle than a slow, agonizing death with Angus between my legs. And if my brothers did not come back from battle, there would be no one between me and Angus.”
Kat paused. “The stables werena so terrible. They lay along the North Wall and were in better repair than many of the cottages I’d seen. The horses were more pleasant to be around and looked less hungry than the people who labored in the fields. And the horses certainly smelled a sight better!”
“That’s where Lorcan learned so much about horses,” Mollie mused, thinking of him as a lad standing up to brutal men as big and hard as the Scottish mountains and feeling helpless. Her heart ached for him.
“Aye. Lorcan cared for the warhorses the men rode into battle. Palfreys and carthorses too. He taught me to ride and to respect animals. Ye can tell a lot about a person by the way he treats an animal. Tell me about Conall, when he was a lad.”
“Like yer brothers, he always looked out for me, ever since I can remember. He saved my life when I was a wee lass. Did ye ken?”
Kat shook her head.
“I had managed to wander off from the castle alone to a place where we liked to play. It was a steep and rocky hill at the far end of a loch. From the top I could see to a valley below, the shores of the loch, and the burn that flowed into the loch. At the top of the hill was a wide plateau thick with heather. It was early spring. When the snow melt is gone, the hills are a tangle of yellowed grass and brown heather. It was a far drop below.
“A mist rose up and I feared to move, thinking I would fall to my death if I took a step in any direction. I couldn’t see a thing, except occasionally for the black, twisted branches of trees, which seemed to scratch and wheel through the mist before they disappeared again. I stood like a statue. And then a strong hand reached out of the mist and pulled me to safety.”
“Conall?”
Mollie nodded. “Conall wrinkled his nose in disgust, for in crossing the field to get to the hill I fell, and my dress was streaked with dirt and cattle dung. At least the heather was soft as a pillow.”
They sat in silence for a while.
“Would you like some water, Mollie?”
“Whisky would be better.”
Kat poured whisky from a jug that sat on the bedside table into a cup and handed it to Mollie.
“Thank ye.”
“’Tis strange the way fate brought us together,” Kat said, “but I think we could be friends.”
“We already are. Some vera good things…magical things…find a way to transcend the wicked lies and brutalities of men.”
“Aye,” Kat said. “Aye, they do.”
Chapter 39
It was not long before Mollie was healed and rejoined castle life.
Sitting at the main table on the dais, Conall frowned as he watched Lorcan guide Mollie across the dance floor and Kat followed his eyes.
“Why do ye frown so?”
Conall sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yer brother….”
“What of Lorcan?”
“…is a good man.”
“My brother is the best kind of man,” Kat said. It did her heart good to see Lorcan smiling.
“But ye ken this…obvious attraction he has for my sister Mollie, it canna go any further than a flirtation. If Lorcan wishes to marry her, it will not be permitted.”
Kat turned her full attention back to her husband, studying his features in the half-dark of shimmering candlelight, his hooded hazel eyes and the square set of his jaw, and was reminded he was still very much a man she did not know. “The two are clearly smitten with each other. Nothing has been said of marriage. But even so….”
“Even so, he is a MacDonald. My father would never give approval for the union.”
“He is Maclean now, as am I! Conall, he pledged his oath to this clan.
A man’s word is his bond. Ye ken ‘tis not given lightly. And ye married me, Conall.”
“That is different. Lorcan is a man. As a woman, ye required my protection from both clans.”
Kat stood, her face flushed with anger.
“So Lorcan may be given yer pity and protection, he may be given a life here, but not a true life? He will be called upon to fight for the Maclean clan, to put his vera life in danger, but not truly be a Maclean? I believe Lorcan is falling in love with Mollie. And what of Mollie’s feelings for him? Have ye asked her how she feels about my brother, Conall?”
Conall opened his mouth to speak but Kat waved her arm. “Ye said yerself we should take every opportunity to celebrate those rare moments in life when we find something unexpected and warm. When we find…love. I ken ye dunna love me, Conall, in such a way, but try to imagine how it feels! And then to be denied such love!”
Conall’s eyes narrowed and a muscle twitched in his jaw, but he said nothing.
“Yer training in battle and living off the land has served ye well—days and nights spent observing enemies, the weather, the sun and stars, how the damnable wind shifts! Planning raids and dispensing justice and deciding futures, alert to every warning, every guiding, every intuition. But ye ken nothing of women! Can ye not see how ye’ve set one standard for me and another for Lorcan? Can ye not see how bullheaded and stubborn and…oh! I waste my vera breath!”
Kat stormed off as Conall’s frown deepened.
He did not come to the bedchamber that night and Kat spent a fitful night of sleep. She washed and dressed and decided she would visit Ragnar’s grave, mayhap find a bit of peace in prayer at the village chapel, which was usually deserted.
But she still felt restless inside the empty chapel, and though she was alone, she had the strange feeling she was being watched. She decided to take a brisk walk along the shores. Ronald no longer guarded her, for she had gained the trust of the clan.
A Dark Highland Magic: Hot Highlands Romance Book 4 Page 19