by Connie Mason
“But he didna, Da. I was holding my own against him.”
MacKay shook his head. “Foolish as well as mad. He was toying with you, daughter. Never doubt that the MacKenna could have slit you from gullet to groin with one stroke.”
He began to pace. “This killing has to stop. Deaths on both sides are destroying the clans.”
“Nay, Da, we are in the right. Ravenscraig Tower belongs to us. Have you forgotten that one of MacKenna’s ancestors kidnapped a MacKay lass on her wedding day? The poor woman jumped from the tower rather than submit to a MacKenna.”
“I have forgotten naught, daughter, but the sad fact is that, one by one, the feud is taking my sons. First Loren and now Tavis.” He peered intently into Gillian’s eyes. Gillian could tell he had something in mind for her, and braced herself. “I should punish you, but my heart isna in it.”
Gillian stared at her father, stunned beyond speech. He had ever been heavy-handed when it came to punishment. She had felt the sting of a switch often enough, along with her five brothers. It wasn’t like her father to let her off so easily, unless grief had gotten the best of him. Tavis had been the youngest and favorite of his five sons.
Gillian began to weep silent tears, sadly aware that she was never going to see Tavis’s mischievous smile again, or suffer his good-natured taunts. How could she bear it?
MacKay began to pace once more. Gillian could tell he was grieving, and hadn’t the heart to interrupt him. If the MacKenna were here now she would tear him limb from limb. She hated the man. He might not have been the one to end Tavis’s life, but she still held him responsible.
Gillian dried her eyes, leaped to her feet, and shouted, “We should attack the MacKenna, Da. We should storm Ravenscraig now, when he least expects it. Where is my sword?”
“Sit down!” MacKay roared, turning on her. “Bloodthirsty little wench.” His pride in his only daughter was tempered by his anger at her. “I’ve come to a decision. I’m going to attempt to end the feud between our clans, if the MacKenna is agreeable.”
“Nay! You canna do it, Da! The feud must continue until we regain control of Ravenscraig.”
“Is that what you think Tavis and Loren would say if we could ask their opinion? I can answer that, daughter. They would want to live.”
“I’ve never heard you talk like this before, Da.”
“Losing two braw lads and watching my only daughter challenge a Viking berserker have taken their toll on me. I’m going to seek out the MacKenna and make my wishes known to him. Together we may find a peaceful end to the feud between our clans.”
“Ross MacKenna is a bloodthirsty cur. He willna agree. What do Murdoc, Ramsey and Nab say? I doona believe they will agree with you. We’ve been fighting Clan MacKenna too long to forgive and forget.”
“I am still the laird, and your brothers will do as I say. Ramsey wants to go to court and canna leave as long as the fighting continues. Nab wants to go with him. Murdoc, my heir, is courting Mary MacDonald, and hopes to marry soon and raise a family. I doona want his sons to die because of a senseless feud.”
“What about me? Does anyone care what I think?”
“You’re only a lassie; your opinion doesna count. Besides, you’re going to play a major role in my dealings with the MacKenna.”
Gillian brightened. “I am? Am I to help my brothers attack and kill the MacKenna laird?”
MacKay made a clucking sound with his tongue. “Your sainted mother would turn in her grave to hear you talk like that. You didna get your warlike tendencies from her, God rest her soul.”
“How am I to help, then?”
“ ’Tis best you doona know until I’ve spoken with the MacKenna. But first, I need time to bury and mourn my son.”
Ravenscraig Tower
A brimming tankard of ale in his hand, Ross sat brooding before the giant hearth in the great hall. A fortnight had passed since Gunn’s death, and he still missed the lad. Missed his good-natured teasing, his laughter, his way with the lasses. But as much as he missed Gunn, he knew the lad’s parents missed him more, just as he missed his brother, who had died fighting the MacKays a year ago.
“Laird Ross, beware.”
Ross looked up at the old crone who shuffled into the hall. Though Ross thought the woman mad for claiming to see the future, he considered Gizela a miracle worker when it came to healing the sick and wounded. Still, he didn’t want to deal with the woman today. He was still mourning the loss of his kinsman.
“What is it now, Gizela?” he asked crossly. “I’ve no heart for foolishness today.”
“Call it foolishness if you wish, laird, but you had best listen to what I have to say.”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me you had another of your visions,” Ross growled, more annoyed than he should be. Gizela was always having visions, most of which he ignored. Some called the hag a witch, but Ross didn’t believe in witchcraft.
“Aye, and you had best heed me this time.”
Ross sighed. “Verra well. You’re going to tell me whether I listen or not, so go ahead. What dire event have you foreseen this time?”
“The news is not necessarily dire, laird. Make of it what you will.”
Ross’s patience was ebbing. “Are you going to tell me or must I guess?”
Gizela gazed past Ross toward the window, her eyes murky and unfocused. “The day approaches.”
“What day? You’re talking nonsense, Gizela. If you werena my kinswoman and a talented healer, I wouldna be so patient with you.”
Gizela began to sway, as if in a trance. “The day approaches,” she repeated. “I see the end of war. I see our clan at peace.” She turned her unseeing gaze on Ross. “But for you, laird, there will be obstacles to overcome. A flame will enter our lives. You will be consumed by it if you are not vigilant. Or you can absorb it into your soul, become a part of it, welcome it. If you doona, your heart will know no peace.”
“Begone, woman! Flame, indeed. As usual, you spout nonsense.”
Gizella blinked. “ ’Tisna nonsense, laird. A flame will arrive soon. You must embrace it.”
“I willna live long enough to see the day our clan is finally at peace. As much as I’d like to see the feud end and the killing stop, ’tis utter nonsense to believe it will happen. The MacKays and their allies have been fighting MacKennas and our allies for generations.”
Gizela shuffled off, muttering, The flame will bring peace. Wait for the messenger.”
Ross drank deeply from his tankard, his mood dark.
“What did Gizela say this time to upset you, lad?” Gordo asked, subsiding into a chair beside Ross. “You shouldna listen to her drivel. She’s half-mad, you ken.”
“I ken, Uncle, but she does more good than harm. She was spouting some nonsense about flames and lasting peace and a messenger that will be arriving soon.”
Gordo shrugged. “Forget it. I just came from the village. Gunn’s parents are taking his death hard. He was their only son in a family of five daughters.”
“1’ll find husbands for the lasses from among our allies,” Ross promised. “They are all comely and will make fine wives.”
A beautiful woman with flowing golden hair entered the hall and paused in the doorway. “Come to bed, Ross. I grow weary of waiting for you.”
“Your leman is impatient,” Gordo said quietly to Ross.
Ross glanced toward the woman and frowned. Though Seana McHamish made a delightful leman, her possessiveness had become cloying. “Leave me, Seana. I’m in no mood for a bedmate tonight.”
Seana scowled. Apparently she didn’t take rejection well. “Come now, Ross. You know I can make you feel better.”
“Not tonight, Seana. Find someone else to warm your bed.”
Seana sashayed over to Ross, hips swaying, breasts jiggling beneath her thin bed robe, and planted herself on his lap. “Have I displeased you? Are you sure you want me to seek another man’s bed? You know my father expects us to wed soon.”
/> Ross sighed heavily. “I never promised marriage, Seana. When I wed it will be to strengthen alliances. Our clans are already allies; our ties are too strong to sever. You are here because you doona like your father’s second wife and sought my hospitality and my bed.”
Seana pressed her unfettered breasts against Ross and kissed him soundly.
“Mayhap I should leave,” Gordo said.“ ’Tis late.”
“Nay, Gordo, doona leave.” He pushed Seana from his lap. “There’s something I wish to discuss with you.”
Seana squealed and scrambled to her feet. “Mayhap your cousin Niall will welcome me in his bed,” she threw over her shoulder as she flounced off.
“You shouldna treat the lass so callously, Ross,” Gordo advised. “You might want her in your bed again.”
“Seana is a smart lass. She kens there is naught between us but sex. Seana wasna pure when she came to Ravenscraig, and I ken I willna be her last lover. Forget Seana, Uncle. How long do you think we have before Tearlach MacKay regroups and launches another attack?”
Gordo scratched his thatch of graying hair. “Winter is nearly upon us. Mayhap peace will hold until spring.”
“I pray you are right. Except for Gunn, our losses werena severe this time, but who kens how many of our kinsmen will die next time? I doona want to think about more deaths.”
Ross heard a noise and looked up, startled to find Gizela standing beside him. “Where did you come from? I didna hear you approach.”
“I heard what you said, laird, and but sought to ease your fears.”
Ross glanced around him. “Gordo and I were alone. You couldna have heard us speaking.”
A small smile played about the corners of Gizela’s lips. “I heard. Heed me well, laird. There will be no more deaths if you welcome the flame.”
“You’re mad, woman,” Gordo spat. “All this talk of flame is annoying the laird. He has more important things to worry about.”
“When the flame comes, remember and heed my words, for the flame is your destiny”
Chapter Two
Ravenscraig Tower
Ross resumed training with his clansmen, aware that another attack could come at any time. Usually during the worst of the winter months, the MacKays and their allies remained in their homes, huddled around their hearths, but Ross dared not let his guard down, even though winter was fast approaching.
After a particularly grueling training session, Ross returned to the keep, eager for a hot bath and something more substantial than the bannocks he had eaten that morning before he left the hall.
He had just finished his meal of roasted boar and root vegetables and settled back to listen to Gavin, the clan bard, when a guardsman rushed into the hall, skidding to a halt before Ross.
“A messenger has arrived, laird. He waits outside the gate. Do you wish to speak to him?”
“A messenger?” Ross repeated.
“Aye, he says he is Murdoc MacKay, and that his message is for the MacKenna laird.”
Ross stroked his chin. “Is he alone?”
“Aye.”
“I wonder what MacKay wants?”
“There is only one way to find out, laddie,” Gordo advised.
“You are right,” Ross said, pushing himself away from the table. “I will speak with him. Open the gate,” he told the guardsman. “But keep a watchful eye for any sign of trouble. I doona trust any MacKay” He turned to his uncle. “Will you stay and hear him out with me, Gordo?”
Murdoc MacKay was ushered inside. Ross did not invite him to sit.
“Say your piece, MacKay,” Ross rasped.
Murdoc looked at Gordo and raised his eyebrows.
“You can speak freely in front of my uncle.”
“I bear a message from my father.”
“So I ken,” Ross said, growing impatient.
“Father wishes to meet with you on the sacred ground of St. Tears Chapel.”
“Alone?”
“You may bring five men with you. My father will bring the same number with him. They are to wait outside while you and my father meet in private inside the chapel.”
“Is that all?”
“Aye, except the MacKay told me to stress that the meeting will be mutually beneficial to both our clans and our allies.”
Ross searched Murdoc’s face, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“ ’Tis not a trick,” Murdoc assured him.
“What think you, Gordo?”
Gordo shrugged. “I doona ken what the MacKay wishes to parley with you about, but it must be important to risk sending his heir with the message.”
“I am thinking the same thing, Uncle. Verra well, Murdoc MacKay, name the day and time of the meeting. But keep in mind that I am no fool.”
“I will relay your message to my father. The time set for the meeting is the hour of sext, the day after tomorrow. The place is St. Tears Chapel, as I mentioned before.”
“Verra well, agree.”
Murdoc turned to leave. Ross motioned to his uncle. “Escort Murdoc MacKay to the gate, Gordo. See that no harm comes to him.”
Ross sat in brooding silence long after the two men left. He had no idea what MacKay wished to discuss, and was more than a little wary. Though the MacKay wasn’t above trickery, Ross seriously doubted even a MacKay would launch an attack on sacred ground.
“It has begun, laird.”
Gizela had sidled up beside him while Ross was lost in thought.
“I wish you wouldna sneak up on me, Gizela,” Ross scolded. “What did you just say?”
“It has begun,” she repeated. “Didna I tell you a messenger would arrive? Your meeting with the MacKay is just the start. Changes are coming.”
Ross narrowed his eyes. “How did you know about the meeting? You were not in the hall when we spoke.”
Gizela sent Ross an inscrutable look. “I have no need to be present to know what passes.”
Ross waved her off. “You know naught. You simply guessed what the MacKay’s son wanted. Is that all you wished to say?”
Gizela’s eyes held a shimmering light that Ross had never seen in them before. Though he wouldn’t call it unholy, it was definitely unnatural.
“Doona fear the flame, laird. Embrace it, for the flame is your destiny.”
Ross sighed heavily and stared into the fire dancing in the hearth. “As usual, naught but nonsense comes from your mouth. Stick to tending the sick and wounded, woman. ”Tis what you do best.”
When Ross looked up, the healer was gone. Needing to be alone to think, Ross made his way to the solar and sank into a chair before the hearth, trying to make sense out of Gizela’s words. Why should he fear the flame? Unless ... Did someone intend to burn Ravenscraig Tower? The MacKay? Nay, that could not be. Gizela said he shouldn’t fear the flame.
Ross’s thoughts were still engaged when Seana entered the chamber without knocking, wearing naught but a bed robe. “After I learned Murdoc MacKay had visited, I thought you might have need of comfort,” she cooed.
Ross grinned at his leman. Seana was exactly what he did need tonight, although any woman would have sufficed. He held out his hand to her. Hips swaying, she strolled over to him and placed her dainty hand in his. Ross rose and led her to his bed. Coyly, she dropped her robe and arrayed herself on the furs.
Ross stared at the lush charms he knew so well and quickly shed his tunic and hose. He knew the moment he joined her on the furs that something was wrong.
Even as he bent his head and suckled her nipple, he saw flames shooting up around him, engulfing the bed. He leaped up, seeking the source of the fire.
“Ross! What ails you? Have I offended you in some way?”
“Did you not see it?” Ross asked, shaking his head in wonder.
Seana glanced around, her eyes wide and frightened. “See what?”
“Flames. They surrounded us.”
“I saw naught. Mayhap you saw the fire in the grate.”
Ross glanced over his s
houlder. “Nay, I ... Forget it. Leave me, Seana.”
Seana reached for him, trying to tug him back into bed, but Ross was as immovable as a stone wall. “Go away, Seana, I need to think.”
“You need to think of naught but me, Ross. Come to bed. Let me ease you.”
“Another time,” Ross said as he walked to the hearth and stared into the dying flames.
Huffing indignantly, Seana launched herself from the bed, picked up her robe from the floor, and stormed out, naked as the day she was born. Ross neither noticed nor cared.
Ross subsided onto a bench, wondering why Gizela’s words had unsettled him to such a degree. Clearly there were no flames, and his bed was not on fire. The only flames were in the hearth, right where they should be. Abruptly his mind carried him back to the recent clash with Clan MacKay and the flame-haired woman who had challenged him on the battlefield. Never had he seen a more aggressive fighter, except for himself, of course.
The woman had to be mad to challenge him in bat-tie when she had no hope of winning. At least her father had had sense enough to drag her away, and Ross had let them go. His honor would not allow him to kill a woman, not even a MacKay woman. For some unexplained reason, he could not forget that vision of the woman’s long red hair flowing behind her like a silken flame as she flew at him.
Flame.
Living flame. Could it be? Nay ...
He shuddered and turned his mind to his meeting with the MacKay.
St. Tears Chapel
The MacKay had arrived first and awaited him beneath the spreading branches of a linden tree. Ross entered the churchyard cautiously, just as the church bells pealed noon. True to his word, the MacKay had brought five men with him. Tearlach MacKay dismounted and waited for Ross to do the same.
“Shall we go inside?” MacKay invited.
Ross nodded to his cousin Niall. Niall dismounted, drew his sword, and entered the chapel. He returned shortly. “ ’Tis no trap, Ross.”