by Wine, Mary
The wound was worse than she’d feared.
But he gripped her upper arm and pulled her close. Pain was swimming in his eyes. “Cora.”
She held up her hand, stilling the frantic movement inside the chamber. Her belly was clenched tight in horror as she realized Faolan might be speaking his last words.
No.no.no.no…
It was something she couldn’t contemplate.
But she would not let him see her weeping.
Not if it was to be their last moment together.
“I am here, thanks to ye,” Cora spoke clearly.
Faolan’s expression was serious. “Me nieces. The lasses are so young. Protect them. From tonight’s rage. Protect them. They are but…children.”
Cora’s eyes widened with surprise. “I will,” she said. “I promise ye, Faolan.”
His grip slacked. “Go. Before someone slays them in…anger.”
She didn’t want to leave him. Cora found her feet stuck to the floor as she failed to find the strength to leave his side.
“Ye…promised, lass. Go!” Faolan ordered her.
Cora gasped. Drawing in a deep breath, she moved closer until her head was inches from his. “I love ye. Swear ye will no’ leave me alone in this life.”
“Ye are mine, lass,” Faolan said. “Now go. Ye must be the Mistress of the McKay.”
Yestin was cupping her shoulders and pulling her back. Orla had arrived with the medical supplies and the women experienced in healing.
Cora drew in a deep breath and turned around. There was a crowd clustered outside the chamber doors. Cora looked at several of the McKay Retainers.
“Take me to where Noreen’s children are!”
The men didn’t hesitate. Two of them jumped down the stairs first to clear the path while a few more fell into step behind her.
When Cora made it to the ground floor, the Retainers formed a box around her.
“Make way.”
“Clear the path.”
“Allow the mistress through!”
If she’d had time to think. Cora might have noticed she was, in fact, the true mistress of the McKay at the moment. The people in the passageways moved back to allow her to pass. They inclined their heads, offering respect.
The news that she had step-nieces was new to her, but it appeared the McKay knew of the children. Her escort made quick work of taking her to the last tower. All the way at the back of the stronghold.
Cora heard the angry voices as she arrived.
“No Grant blood will be allowed to linger here!”
“Their kin tried to murder us all in our beds.”
“Kill them before more of their kin come!”
“Clear the path for the mistress!”
Yestin had joined her party. The senior man lent his authority to the moment, and the angry group clustered inside the chamber at the top of the tower turned in response to his voice.
Against the wall, two nursemaids held onto Faolan’s nieces.
They were babies. Both looking at the crowd with wide eyes.
“Enough.” Cora made sure her voice was controlled.
“But the Grants came to take control of the McKay through them,” a Retainer argued with Cora.
Cora sent him a hard look. “They are but babes.”
“Saplings grow into trees,” someone added. This time the man was older, his voice carrying the weight of life experience. He reached up to tug on his cap when Cora shifted her attention to him. “Forgive me, Mistress, but ye do nae need yer own children worrying about these two seeking vengeance.”
Those clustered in the room looked between Cora and the Retainer.
“Vengeance would only be something they would seek if they were treated poorly,” Cora informed them all.
“Do ye suggest we leave them alive to inherit the McKay after our laird dies?”
A shaft of dread went through Cora.
Faolan might indeed die.
Do nae think on it…
She swallowed the lump that tried to clog her throat. “I might well be carrying an heir.”
There was a few nodding of heads.
“And if I am not,” Cora continued, “I would hear what Cormac Grant has to say about this night’s business. The Grants have never been so bloodthirsty.”
There was a new round of ringing from the gate. The sound spread to all the gatehouses on the wall.
“See what that is about, Yestin.”
The captain nodded. He used a door that was hidden by a tapestry to venture out onto the wall. He came back quickly.
“New arrival at the gate. Yer brother is here, Mistress,” Yestin informed her. “And he rides with Cormac Grant.”
The tension in the room tightened. The McKay Retainers looked between Cora and the two little girls. With blood on their clothing, Cora could see them battling the urge to kill her and the girls just to ensure the safety of their own families.
“Well, let us receive them in the great hall,” Cora said slowly and calmly. “Yestin?”
“Aye, Mistress?”
“Make certain me brother is escorted in with plenty of McKays. Tell him he may bring only six men. We shall suffer no further attacks.”
Her words drew a few more nods of approval. Cora started to turn toward the door but stopped. There was still too much anger in the air. She looked at the two nursemaids.
“Bring the girls and follow me.”
The two nursemaids immediately lowered themselves. They both wrapped their charges up to protect them from the chill of the night before following Cora down the stairs.
“Cover the little ones’ faces,” Yestin said as they neared the place outside the bathhouse.
There was much more light now. It glittered off the surface of the pools of blood. The window shutters had been opened, but the stench of death was still so thick, Cora lifted her hand to her face to stifle the scent.
Ye must be strong.
Suddenly, her unorthodox youth was treasured indeed. All of the strength she had cultivated, all of the confidence in herself was precisely what she needed to weather the night.
And make Faolan proud to call her wife.
*
“Six men?” Buchanan growled. “Why?”
Yestin kept his hands on his wide belt. “A party of Grants got inside the castle an hour past. They ran the laird through in an attempt to put his niece back in the line of succession.”
“Damn Lirkin to hell.” Cormac stepped forward. “I am Cormac Grant. This night’s work was none of my doing.” He took his sword off and offered it to Yestin.
It was a gesture no man missed the gravity of. Yestin nodded with approval. He looked at the third man who had stepped forward.
“Rolfe Munro,” Rolfe provided his name. “We have ridden together in search of Cora Mackenzie. The men at yer towers said she is here.”
“Aye, the mistress will receive ye in the hall.”
“Mistress?” Buchanan questioned. “She’s wed to Malcolm?”
Yestin shook his head. “The new laird, Faolan. Malcolm and Noreen are dead by Noreen’s hand.”
There was a rumbling in the ranks of the men backing Buchanan, Rolfe, and Cormac up.
“Best ye come inside to see,” Yestin said. “To see the mistress.”
Buchanan sent him a hard look. Yestin answered it with one of his own.
“Well, then,” Buchanan responded. “I would like to see me sister.”
Rolfe and Cormac were left to follow. Rolfe chuckled. Cormac turned to look at him.
“Seems ye have lost yer bride,” Rolfe informed Cormac. “A pity.”
“The way I heard it, she was sent to ye for consideration.”
Rolfe grinned. “I never claimed to be smart.”
Cormac grunted. Rolfe chuckled again before his expression tightened.
*
Cora wanted to run to her brother.
Yet, she stayed in the chair as her brother and Rolfe came forward. Her brother w
ould understand duty was more important in this situation, for hadn’t he always reminded her of all the things she needed to learn?
The man wearing the Grant colors claimed her full attention. On the side of his cap there were three feathers standing up. He had blonde hair and green eyes. She’d never laid eyes upon Cormac, but she knew his description well enough.
“I am Cormac Grant,” he announced himself.
There was a rumble from the McKay. Cora held her hand up. She was only half certain there would be obedience. But they settled down, willing to see what she’d do.
“Yer brother Lirkin lies dead in one of our passageways,” Cora said bluntly. “He brought armed men into our home.”
Cormac’s expression was dark. “Lirkin is lucky he is dead. I would not give him a quick death after hearing of his actions here.”
“Ye say he was acting without yer approval?” Cora asked loudly. Behind Cormac, the McKay were still thirsty for Grant blood.
“I have laid down my sword to walk in here and prove it with me own life,” Cormac declared. He raised his voice, clearly understanding that Cora wasn’t the one he had to convince.
But Cora knew she was the one who had to find a way to temper the situation. Failing meant more bloodshed.
The duty of a laird’s daughter was to become a mistress of a clan and always place the well-being of that clan before her own.
“Lirkin was me half-brother. Noreen was his sister. I am guilty of allowing Lirkin a measure of authority. I will answer for his actions.” Cormac lowered himself to one knee.
It was a huge gesture.
One not lost on the assembled McKay.
Yestin had joined Cora on the high ground. The veteran captain stood next to the chair Cora was seated in. He laid a hand on her shoulder.
“The choice before us is clear,” Cora began. “We can spend our lives in pursuit of blood or in building a better life for us all. Six McKay fell tonight. Cormac Grant, will ye pay their benefits?”
“I will,” Cormac declared loudly.
Cora nodded.
“And as for Lirkin?” she asked.
Cormac considered her. “His body shall be left out for the wolves as befits a traitor. Every man who rode with him as well. Their names shall be stricken from the records of the Grants.”
There was a moment of silence that lasted nearly an hour. Cora held still, delaying her agreement. Yestin nodded, granting her his public approval. The action started a pounding on the tables, which grew as the McKay accepted Cormac’s words. The sacrifice of his personal safety and dignity was sinking in. Lirkin’s fate was a harsh one, and it furthered the acceptance of the McKay.
“Rise, Cormac Grant,” Cora said. “I will personally raise yer nieces to ensure they are not reared to hate McKay blood.”
Cormac rose. “Yer condition is acceptable.”
“Mistress.” Lonn was suddenly coming into the hall from the side passageway. He bounded up the steps and handed a letter to her. “Found this letter on Lirkin Grant’s body.”
There was a round of spitting from the assembled Retainers. Cora shook out the letter and read it. Yestin leaned over to see it as well.
“Bloody traitor,” Yestin growled. “We have a traitor in our mist!”
“This letter was written by a McKay to Lirkin Grant.” Cora held it up. She fought to maintain her composure and remain in the chair. “There are eyes in the walls of every stronghold. Someone knows the name of who wrote this. I swear I will find them. Speak now or suffer death when ye are discovered.”
The McKay roared with approval.
“I know who wrote it.”
Cora had to turn around to see who spoke. The nursemaid holding the oldest of Noreen’s daughters was biting her lip. “It was Gilmor who schemed to have Kalan restored to the position of laird.”
“Gilmor?” Yestin asked incredulously.
Mae nodded. “He festered over being demoted. Said he’d mentor Kalen until her maturity.”
“And ye kept silent, girl?” Lonn demanded.
“He said he’d kill me,” Mae wailed as someone pulled Kalan from her arms.
Kalan was reaching out, opening and closing her hands as she tried to reach Mae. The bond the child had with her was so strong.
“Only Noreen Grant would be so foolish as to select such a weak nursemaid for her own child,” Cora growled.
“Where is Gilmor?”
There was a shuffling of the McKay. Gilmor was left standing alone. Cora lost her battle to contain her temper. Gilmor didn’t have a spot of blood on him.
She flew down the steps before Yestin could stop her. “How dare ye stand there, with not so much as a tear in yer shirt when this stronghold has been attacked!”
Lonn had dragged Mae down and tossed the girl beside Gilmor. Mae was sobbing.
“Stop sniveling.” Cora turned on the nursemaid. “Had ye spoken up, six mothers would not be mourning their sons right now! How dare ye sleep beneath this roof while knowing this letter had been sent. Every McKay will stand for the security of this stronghold!”
“Ye are a witch!” Gilmor accused her venomously.
Losing her temper had been a major miscalculation.
But Gilmor made a graver mistake in judgment when he lunged at her with a dagger. He’d forgotten that Cora was indeed unbridled. She’d ridden with her brother’s Retainers, not because she was the laird’s daughter but because she’d trained.
Cora caught the flash of the blade out of the corner of her eye. She reacted to the threat, her body twisting to the side as she brought her hands up in a sweeping motion to defend herself from the attack.
It all happened in the blink of an eye.
The attack.
Her reaction.
Her arm connected solidly with Gilmor’s. A bolt of pain went up to her shoulder. But the strength she’d built in the stables served her well. Cora made a huge circle with her arm, dropping her hand on the other side of Gilmor’s arm. She clamped onto his hand and turned it back. His grip slackened, allowing her to pull the dagger from his grip.
Cora never really thought about it. She acted on the impulses fueled with the fury over the scent of blood in the air. She pulled her arm back and thrust forward, driving the blade into the center of his throat. His eyes bulged, his lips working as blood began to pour over her hand.
“Ye are a traitor,” she growled through her teeth at him. “Ye will not draw another breath while good McKay men lay dead.”
While Faolan might be dead in the very chamber she had so recently laid with him.
Gilmor dropped to his knees as Rolfe reached her first and pulled her back. Cora stood firm, the blood coating her hand, something she didn’t bother to wipe off. The McKay took her in. Even the hardest among them softened, approval lighting their eyes.
“Cora.” Buchanan had reached her.
Cora lifted her face and stared at her brother. In his eyes, she saw something new. She was no longer his little sister. Now he sent her a solid gaze, which marked a new chapter in their lives.
There was a sniffle from Mae.
Cora stiffened. She turned to look at the nursemaid. “Secrets…undermine the safety of every McKay. Had ye spoken up, yer kin would not be dead.”
Cora looked beyond the nursemaid to where Lonn stood. The assembled Retainers watched Cora, waiting for her to finish what had to be done.
“Be quick,” she ordered Lonn.
The Retainer’s lips thinned. Mae gasped, but the captain grasped her head before she turned to look at him. He gave a twist, and the sound of her neck snapping filled the hall. Lonn let her body slump to the floor next to Gilmor’s.
The Retainers pounded the tabletops. Kalan had run down from the high ground. Seeking out the only person the child had ever known. Cora scooped the little girl up before she reached the body of the nursemaid.
“I will be yer mother now,” Cora declared in a soft voice.
Aye, she would.
Be
cause ye are the mistress…
Precisely.
*
“The laird will likely die before daybreak.”
The McKay healer had a heavy tone. His face was etched with deep sorrow. He reached out and patted Cora on the shoulder before he carried his medical box down the stairs. Standing in the receiving chamber of Faolan’s rooms, Cora could just make out the bed on the other side, where Faolan lay. The bed curtains were drawn to keep as much heat in as possible.
“Cora.” Buchanan stood near her.
“I can handle it.”
Her brother nodded. “I see that’s the truth. Yet, I wish ye did no’ have to.”
He hugged her. The embrace was her undoing. The tears she’d fought back were now trickling down her cheeks.
“Let’s give me sister some privacy,” Buchanan muttered.
He sat her down with her face turned away from Rolfe and Cormac. She listened as they made their way to the door and closed it after departing.
She didn’t want to see Faolan on his death bed.
Ye are his wife and no’ a coward…
And she wasn’t going to waste her last moments with him on indecision. Someone had built up the fire to chase away the chill of the early morning hours. Faolan rested on his back, a wide length of bandaging binding his midsection. It was creamy white, but she could smell the blood as she sat down on a bench near him.
“Don’t think to cheat me out of being me husband,” Cora muttered to him. She clasped his hand but dropped it a moment later because his fingers were icy cold.
She bit her lip.
No!
Cora crawled into the bed, curling along the uninjured side of his body. “Ye warmed me the first night to keep me from slipping away into death.” Cora used her hand to rub his arm and shoulder. “I will nae let ye go, Faolan McKay. Do ye hear me? We shall not be cheated of our years together.”
No. She wouldn’t be cheated.
Ye do nae always get what ye want…
*
Orla reached up and wiped away a tear.
She had to be firm.
It was quiet now. The passageways were very cold because the window shutters were open to blow the scent of blood away. Orla drew in a deep breath.
Such a loss and perhaps one more to come before too long.
It was so very hard to bear. Without a strong laird, the McKay would not hold the respect of the neighboring clans. Even with a formidable mistress, they’d have a tough road in the years to come.