A Gentle Feuding (3 page)

J
ames MacKinnion woke with a terrible ache in his head. There was a bump the size of an egg on the back of his skull. His eyes opened, seeing nothing but blackness. He decided to keep them closed against the pain. It was too much effort just yet to wonder where he was, or even if he might be blind. But the ache throbbed so badly that he couldn’t drift back to sleep. Slowly, he became aware of things.

The coldness against his cheek was hard earth. The smell around him was stagnant. The tickling over his bare knees was from bugs, or worse. He sat up to swipe the pests away, but the pain shot through his head, and he lay back down ever so gently.

Where he was was beginning to disturb him. The last thing he could remember was being surrounded by Fergussons who had seemed to come out of thin air. But the truth was he had not been watching his back, but had had his eyes on the pool in the glen
where he had once seen that beautiful young girl. If he had not been off his horse, waiting there like a fool for her to appear, he wouldn’t have been surrounded and struck over the head before he could even draw his sword.

So. He was captured. The smell and the dampness began to make sense. A dungeon, no doubt in Tower Esk. Jamie almost laughed. There was no fool like a stupid fool, and he was certainly that. He had acted like a lovesick boy, coming to that glen more than a dozen times in the last months, hoping just to see the girl one more time. Yet that wasn’t the whole truth. He had hoped also to learn who she was. But she had never appeared. No doubt, as he had once supposed, she was a beggar passing through. He would never see her again.

He had ridden here alone, as he had the other times. Not even his brother knew where he had gone, for he had admitted his obsession with the girl to no one. It would be several days before his brother would begin to worry. Even then, no one would guess he was in a Fergusson dungeon.

How many days would he have to spend here before old Dugald let him go? Oh, Jamie had no doubt that he would be let go. Dugald couldn’t afford to keep any MacKinnion prisoner. Even if he found out who Jamie really was, he would have to let him go.

The creaking of wood above alerted Jamie. He was no longer alone. But if he hadn’t heard the trapdoor opening, he would have doubted his senses
when a pixielike voice whispered, “Are you really a MacKinnion?”

The voice had no body. All was still pitch black. Cold, fresh air poured down on Jamie, and he welcomed it and breathed his fill before he answered, “I dinna talk to a body I canna see.”

“I dare no’ bring a light. Someone might see.”

“Well, you’d best go then,” Jamie said with a touch of humor. “It wouldna do for you to be seen talking to a MacKinnion.”

“Then you really are?”

Jamie didn’t answer. The trapdoor was quickly closed, then opened again a few minutes later. A small round head with a thatch of dark red hair peeked over the narrow opening in the ceiling. Dim light from a candle spilled down into what Jamie could see was a deep pit. The dungeon was about seven feet around, just a pit dug in the earth, its floor packed down hard. The dirt walls might have been climbed, but the trapdoor was in the middle of the ceiling, and, even if reached, it was undoubtedly kept bolted.

Jamie had seen dungeons like it before. They were convenient because no guard was needed. They were impossible to escape from. He would have preferred a stone dungeon. At least the air wouldn’t have been as stagnant, and he might have had a little light.

“You didna eat your food.”

Jamie sat up slowly and leaned back against the
wall, a hand to his head to hold back the pain. “I dinna see any food.”

“In the sack, over there by you.” The boy pointed. “They just drop it down. ’Tis bound so the bugs dinna get it ’afore you do.”

“How thoughtful,” Jamie replied tonelessly as he grabbed the sack and opened it. There was a chunk of oatbread and half of a small heathcock—fine for a peasant, but he was used to better. “If this is all that’s allotted a prisoner, it looks as if I’ll have to be escaping in order to get a decent meal.”

“You’re no’ a guest, you know,” the lad said stiffly.

“But I’ll be treated as one if I’m no’ to grow bitter over my confinement,” Jamie replied casually, as though arrogance came naturally to him. “Old Dugald wouldna care for my anger, I can assure you.”

“Och, but you’re a bold one to be talking of revenge from where you sit.”

“And who is it I’m talking to?”

“Niall Fergusson”

“I’ve no doubt you’re a Fergusson, but which one?”

“I’m Dugald’s son.”

“The young laird, eh?” Jamie was surprised. “You’re a wee one, to be sure.”

“I’m thirteen,” Niall said indignantly.

“Are you now? Aye, I’ve heard The Fergusson tried often enough to get you ’afore you finally
came along.” Jamie chuckled. Then he groaned as his head throbbed again.

“Are you hurt?” Niall asked with genuine concern.

“Just a wee bump.”

Niall fell silent as the prisoner tore apart the bird and began to eat. It was a large man he was looking down on, wrapped in a green and gold plaid with two rows of triple black stripes. His legs were long and hard-muscled, his chest wide. The plaid distorted the rest of his shape, loosely wrapped as it was, but Niall could guess by the size of him that the clothes hid a remarkably strong body. The man was young, his face smooth and boylike despite the hard jaw and firm lips, the narrow, hawklike nose. It was a face of strong character, and disgustingly handsome.

“You’ve golden hair,” Niall said suddenly.

Jamie grinned and looked up at the lad. “You noticed, did you?”

“They say not many have golden hair like The MacKinnion himself.”

“Och, well, there are those of us who can thank a Norman ancestor for golden hair.”

“A Norman? Really? One of those who came with King Edward?”

“Aye, a few centuries back that was. You know your history.”

“My sister and I had a good teacher.”

“You mean your sisters. I know. You have four of them.”

“Only one studied with me.”

Niall paused, angry with himself for mentioning Sheena. It would be almost sacrilegious to talk of her with this Highlander. He shouldn’t have come at all. Heaven help him if he were found! But he had been so full of curiosity that he hadn’t been able to talk himself out of it.

“Do you know The MacKinnion well?” he asked the prisoner.

Jamie smiled, and his face softened. “You could say I know him better than any other man knows him.”

“Are you his brother, then?”

“Nay. Why do you ask about him?”

“He’s all anyone talks about. They say there’s no man braver.”

“He will be glad to hear it.”

“Is he as terribly mean as they say?”

“Who says he’s mean?” Jamie grunted.

“My sister.”

“Your sister doesna know him.”

“But she’s heard more stories of him than I have,” Niall replied.

“And no doubt told you all.”

“Nay. She didna want to frighten me.”

“Ha! I can see she has a low opinion of me. And which sister is this?”

But Niall didn’t answer. He was staring at the man wide-eyed, for he had caught the slip of the tongue, even though the prisoner didn’t yet realize it.

“’Tis you!” he gasped. “You’re him!
The
MacKinnion. And my father doesna even know!”

Jamie cursed himself silently. “You’re daft, lad.”

“Nay. I heard you!” he cried excitedly. “You said, ‘She has a low opinion of me.’ Not
him
, you said ‘
me
.’ You’re James MacKinnion!”

“Tell me this, lad,” Jamie demanded. “What has your father planned for me?”

“To ransom you back.”

“And what would he be doing then if he thought I was The MacKinnion?”

“I dinna know,” Niall said thoughtfully. “He’d probably let you go free without any demands at all. Would you no’ prefer that?”

“Nay,” Jamie replied, surprisingly. “’Tis no’ something I’m proud of, being caught unawares, and I dinna care to hear your father gloat over it. ’Tis bad enough I’ll get all the ribbing when I’m home.”

“There’s no shame in it,” Niall insisted. “There were five against you.”

“Five I could’ve taken if I’d been mounted and seen them coming.”

“How could you no’ see them on the moor?”

“I wasna on the moor. I was in a wooded glen.”

Niall gasped. There was only one wooded glen on Fergusson land, the glen where Sheena went to swim.

“Why were you there?”

Jamie did not notice the change in the boy’s tone. “I’ll no’ be saying, for it only adds to my shame.”

“You’ll tell me if…if you want me to forget you’re
The
MacKinnion.”

Jamie wasted no time. “I’ve your word on it?”

“Aye.”

“Very well, though I doubt you’ll ken a man’s foolishness. I was looking for a wisp of a girl I once saw bathing in the pool there.”

Color rushed into Niall’s face, turning him bright pink with anger and shame. This man had seen his sister! She would be mortified if she knew. He was in an agony of shame.

“When did you see her?” Niall croaked.

“What?”

“When did you see this girl?”

“In the spring.”

“And did you see her this morning?”

“Nay, the pool was empty.” Jamie leaned forward hopefully. “Do you know the girl? I thought perhaps she was a beggar girl and was long gone.”

“No Fergusson would be foolish enough to bathe in that glen,” Niall lied stiffly. “She’s likely gone, yes.”

“Aye, I didna really believe I would see her again,” Jamie agreed wistfully. “She was just passing through this place. Yet…I did hope otherwise.”

“And what would you have done if you had found her again?”

Jamie grinned. “I dinna think you’re old enough to know the answer to that.”

“You’re the savage my sister says you are, James MacKinnion!” Niall snapped furiously. “I’ll no’ be talking to you again!”

Jamie shrugged. The boy was innocent still. He didn’t have a man’s desires yet, so he couldn’t understand them.

“Suit yourself, lad,” Jamie said shortly. “But you’ll be keeping your word?”

“I’ve given it—I’ll keep it!”

When the trapdoor had closed and the bolt had slid into place, Jamie regretted teasing the boy. He had enjoyed the company and doubted he’d get more very soon.

Niall returned to his room, but he got no sleep. After a while, his anger cooled, and he was able to think about the meeting rationally.

The laird of the MacKinnions was in their dungeon! Niall would be hard-pressed to keep that news to himself. And the fact that The MacKinnion had seen his sister in the altogether? It galled him that any man would have spied on her, let alone their enemy. But what was done was done, and he could do nothing about it except see to it that Sheena never swam naked there again.

And the rest of it? Niall was not so young that he hadn’t understood Jamie perfectly well. The MacKinnion desired his sister and might have ravished her if he had found her at the pool. Niall would have been no defense against a full-grown man. Fortu
nately it hadn’t come to that. The MacKinnion must have come to the pool only minutes after he and Sheena had left. But the man
had
come looking for her. He must never know that Sheena Fergusson and the girl he lusted after were one and the same.

S
heena was in the sewing room, dressed in one of her prettiest frocks, a bright yellow gown that contrasted vividly with the dark burnished red of her loose, flowing hair. She was unhappily working on her wedding gown, two of the household servants helping her. The gown was going to be lovely, two shades of blue, in rich velvet and silk, and the darker blue a near match to her eyes. But Sheena felt no pleasure in it. The wearing of that gown would bind her to a stranger and take her away from her home.

The sewing room was as good a place to hide as any, since her sisters were still abed and she need not be bothered by them yet. Even though her marrying was a certainty, their hostility had not lessened. Margaret’s was worst, for she blamed Sheena for making her wait so long to marry Gilbert MacGuire. And all three of her sisters had always resented Sheena’s resembling their father, who was
quite handsome. While not overly large, he had a strong build, and his hair was the same deep red as hers, though he was nearly fifty. Only at his temples was there a little dusting of white. His eyes were as clear and as blue as hers.

Her mother had, in fact, been rather plain, and her sisters all resembled their mother. Elspeth did have their father’s blue eyes and a slight tinge of red in her brown hair, but Margaret and Fiona had their mother’s lackluster pale blue eyes and plain brown hair. Sheena had often wished she looked more like her sisters. Being called a beauty could be a cursed nuisance.

The rift between Sheena and her sisters was deep and very close to hatred. It didn’t bother Sheena terribly, however. She had never been close to them. As the firstborn, she had learned skills at her father’s side that he would not have taught her if Niall had been born sooner. Dugald had taken her fishing and hunting. When Sheena was five, after Fiona was born and Dugald had despaired of having a son, she got her first pony. Her interests did not include her prissy sisters, who flocked about their mother. The breach between them widened as the years passed.

Sheena still could not blame her father for the pain he was putting her through now. The clan came first. She understood that.

She was also in the sewing room because it was the last place William MacAfee would look for her. She still didn’t know exactly what it was about William that she so disliked. He had a decidedly
mean look about him, a subtle cruelty in his face that she had noticed even as a child.

His interest in her had started when she was only twelve. He was always pulling her aside to talk to her, scolding her for this or that, interrupting her play with Niall. When she was sixteen he had asked her to marry him. She had been as disgusted and as frightened of him then as she was now.

William held too much influence over her father, that was certain. And once her father made a decision about something, he was seldom swayed. That had worked against William when Dugald decided Sheena would marry The MacDonough. But Dugald’s mind could be changed if the persuasion was powerful enough. Until she was married to Alasdair MacDonough, hateful though that idea was, she would not be safe from her cousin.

William and her father were, even now, below in the hall discussing how to contact the MacKinnions to demand the prisoner’s ransom. She hoped Niall was with them, so that he could tell her what they discussed.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Niall burst into the room. “So, here you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I never thought to be finding you in here.”

Sheena grinned. “Well, you have. What are you so excited about?”

Niall looked at the two servants, and Sheena dismissed them.

“Well, now, what has you in such a bother?” She
patted the chair beside her, but Niall was too agitated to sit.

“I wasna to tell anyone!” he burst out, his light blue eyes aglow. “But I canna keep it in. I have to tell you, Sheena, but only you.”

She smiled at his exuberance. Niall could get excited over the smallest thing, and each small thing was of great importance for a while.

“I’ve been to the dungeon!”

“When?”

“Very late last night.”

Sheena was not amused now. “You know you shouldna have, Niall.”

“I know, but I couldna help it,” he confessed. “I
had
to see him.”

“And did you?”

“Aye.” Niall grinned now and rushed on. “And you wouldna believe the size of him, Sheena! And he has such a mean look about him. He talked to me like a man—well, most of the time he did.”

“You talked to him!” she gasped.

“Aye, I did, and for a long time, too. But that’s no’ what I have to tell you, Sheena. ’Tis James MacKinnion we have in our dungeon. The MacKinnion, not one of his men, but him! And he’s as bold as they say.”

Sheena felt cold, and suddenly it was as if she couldn’t breathe. But Niall turned even colder and they both started as, behind them, Margaret Fergusson echoed, “
The
MacKinnion!” The door hadn’t been shut properly, and Margaret had heard. She
ran, then, and Sheena found her voice. “Go after her, Niall! She’s surely gone to tell Father.”

Niall raced through the doorway, but Margaret was already running down the stairs that led to the hall. He could hear her shouting.

He turned to Sheena. She had never seen her brother look so miserable. “What am I to do?”

Her heart ached for him. “Dinna worry, Niall. You were no’ forbidden to go near the dungeon. Father will be angry, but he’ll no’ punish you.”

“It isna that, Sheena. ’Tis
him!
I gave him my word I’d no’ tell about him!”

She was a touch angry that Niall should worry about breaking his word to a MacKinnion, even the laird himself. “Then you shouldna have told me,” she snapped.

“But you’re no’ just anyone,” he protested. “You wouldna have told.”

“Well, but you see what happened?” She loved his devotion to her, but he had to understand.

“I know.” Niall was near tears. “He’ll hate me for this.”

“What’s got into you, Niall?” she cried. “You’re a Fergusson. He already hates us all.” She turned away and lowered her voice. “I just wish you’d kept the secret. What William will make of it with Father is what I fear.”

Niall was doubly miserable. “Should I lie to Father? I can say Margaret was mistaken in what she heard, or I was only jesting.”

“Nay, you canna lie, for Father will no doubt con
front The MacKinnion, and who’s to say he willna admit the truth? Why should he want it kept secret?”

“He’s ashamed because he was caught.”

“Och, men and their strange ideas are beyond me. He’ll be released sooner now, so he should be glad. Father wouldna dare keep The MacKinnion.”

The Fergusson bailie came to the door to tell Niall he was wanted below.

“You’ll come with me, Sheena?” Niall asked, his eyes pleading.

“Aye, if you’ll promise no’ to leave William alone with Father after I’m gone. Father will send me from the room when they discuss what to do, but I must know what William suggests. So you must stay.”

“I’ll stay if they let me.”

Dugald Fergusson was more upset than Sheena had expected. William’s eyes were drawn to her the moment she walked into the hall. There was a smug look about him that boded ill. Niall was standing before their father.

“’Tis true then, you were down to the dungeon?” Dugald demanded.

“Aye.”

“You know you had no business there?”

“Aye.”

“Is it true what you told your sister? Have we James MacKinnion himself down there?”

Niall hesitated a moment too long before answering, and Dugald backhanded him. Sheena gasped and moved to Niall’s side, her eyes furious.

“You didna have to hit him!” she shouted at her father. “He’s done naught that was so terrible.”

“He knew we had James MacKinnion but he didna tell me so.”

“He would have.”

“When? After I’d ransomed a man I thought only a crofter? Sweet Mary!” Dugald blustered. “I’ve a son who keeps secrets from me and a daughter who defends him!”

“What secret?” Sheena snapped. “If you’d gone down and talked to the man yourself, you’d have found out easily enough who he was.”

Dugald glared at her, but the truth of that was plain. And he was wasting time bickering. The fact that he had James MacKinnion in his dungeon turned his blood cold. For all he knew, the MacKinnions were planning an attack on the tower at that very moment.

“I’ve got to let him go,” Dugald said wearily. He sounded defeated.

“Dinna be hasty, now,” William warned. “The man’s been injured by us and shamed. He’ll no’ take kindly to that. He’s probably even now plotting the revenge he’ll have as soon as you release him.”

“But I canna keep him in the dungeon.”

“Aye, you can. A few days will no’ hurt, until you devise a means to protect yourself.”

“You have something in mind?”

“Aye, a way to end the feud for good.”

Sheena stiffened. “Dinna listen to him, Father!
Just let the man go. For his release, make him give his word to end the feud.”

“The word of a MacKinnion is worthless,” William said flatly.

“You dinna know that!” Sheena turned on him hotly, eyes flashing.

“Enough blathering,” Dugald interjected angrily. “This doesna concern you, Sheena, so get you gone.”

“But—”

“Go! Your betrothed comes this night to plan the wedding, so prepare yourself.” He waited until she had stalked from the hall before he looked at his son. “Off with you, too, Niall. And so there’ll be no mistake, if you go near the prisoner again, ’tis the English court for you!”

Sheena waited on the stairs for Niall, but the distance was too great for her to hear what William was telling her father. But she knew.

“God help me, Niall, I dinna know what I’ll do if I’m given to The MacKinnion.”

“Dinna talk like that,” he scolded.

“I hate William!” she hissed furiously. “I swear I’d kill him if I didna think I’d burn in hell for it.”

“You’re worrying ’afore the fact, Sheena. ’Tis doubtful Father would listen to Willie this time. You’re already betrothed. ’Twould mean breaking that and starting a feud with the MacDonoughs.”

“You think that would matter if a MacKinnion match were possible?”

Niall frowned. “I know, but you’re still worrying
’afore you should. There’s naught to say The MacKinnion would accept you. Why should he?”

“I said the same to William, but he claims any man would want me if he saw me,” she replied miserably. “Och, why do I have to look like this!”

Niall’s heart sank as he remembered. The MacKinnion
had
seen Sheena. And he
did
want her. She was terrified of him, and Niall could not blame her. Only what could he do to help her?

“He doesna know you’re the one he wants, Sheena,” Niall tried to reassure her.

Her brow knit in curiosity. “Now what did you mean by that, I’d like to know?”

“I…I mean he hasna seen you yet, so he canna know if he would want you or no’.”

“Aye, but what if Father shows me to him?”

“I’ll hide you if I have to,” Niall said impulsively, reminding Sheena that he was, after all, just a child.

“I wish you could, Niall, but I’d like to know where a body could hide on the open moor. There’s no crofter would go against their laird to take me in.”

“I’ll think of something. Dinna fear.”

For his sake, she smiled. “I’ll hold you to that, little brother. For I swear I’ll no’ wed James MacKinnion. I’d rather die.”