Highland Seer (18 page)

“A true test of the treaty, aye?” Alpin interjected proudly. “All those clans, united under the Lathans to protect another.”

Donal nearly groaned. He had no chance. No argument he could make would dissuade Jamie, especially after that.

“Aye,” he finally said, chafing under Jamie’s intense scrutiny. He’d lost this battle. He’d see about winning the war later. “We’ll stay.”

It was time to turn his attention to practical matters. “Ye’ll watch yer back, Jamie. I dinna like the MacDuff’s threat, and ye won’t have men with ye to fend off a determined attack if the MacDuff cares to try to prove his point.”

“I ken it.”

“He’s seen ye, he kens ye and the influence ye have over the MacKyrie. My guess is he’d gladly send ye back to her face down over yer mount’s withers.” Donal hated wasting his breath, but he had to make the point. Jamie had years of experience as a Lathan scout. In fact, he would be better off making the trip alone than to try it with a party too small to fight but large enough to attract attention. But overconfidence could get anyone, even Jamie, killed.

Jamie nodded. “I hear ye well, Donal. I’ll get through, and I’ll send help.”

“See that ye do.”

Jamie grinned and rose to his feet. “I guess I’d best go advise the MacKyrie of our plans and get her signature. I dinna think she’ll refuse it now.”

The lads agreed in a chorus of ayes.

“If we’re bound to save her clan for her,” Jamie continued when they wound down, “there’s much to do before nightfall.”

A shiver skittered down Donal’s ribs. What had Fergus said? “Ye’re the one to save us...she Saw.” Fergus could have been raving in his fever when he said that. But he and Jamie were the two who spent the most time with the MacKyrie. There was no one else Fergus could have been thinking of.

Jamie was leaving. If Fergus’s ravings had been right, that left Donal as the one to save the MacKyries.

****

Ellie’s heart seemed lodged in her throat as she watched Jamie saddle up. Aye, night had long since fallen, but his horse would make tracks in the snow until he made it through the pass and down the mountain. Any glimmer of starlight or glow from the moon when it rose later tonight and those tracks would lead trouble right to him—be they MacDuffs or anyone else bent on mischief, or worse than mischief. Anyone could be lurking along Jamie’s path. The bandits who’d attacked the wagons, if indeed they weren’t MacDuffs, could still be out there. There would be too many of them for one man to fight off alone. Jamie’s only chance was to pass by unseen and unheard.

The snow would help muffle sound, she reasoned, but she still fretted about the tracks he’d leave behind.

“I wish ye wouldna do this,” Ellie told him as he tucked the treaty into a saddlebag.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he began tapping and tugging on everything the horse carried. If something rattled, he adjusted it until it no longer made a sound.

“I must, Ellie, and ye ken it well. Ye havena had any dreams about me, have ye?”

Ellie gave a broken laugh. “Nay, Jamie. None. But that doesna guarantee anythin’.”

“I’m the best one to do this.” He stopped checking his gear and faced her. “Even with Micheil and yer other braw lads and oldsters, the six of us are no’ enough to stand against all the MacDuffs for long. Someone must fetch help. The treaty gives me the right to demand men from the clans that signed.”

“Making us beholden to them.”

“Aye, but ye kenned that when ye signed.” He smiled briefly. “The day will come when MacKyrie will be strong enough to be called upon to help another clan. For now, ye need their help. The MacDuffs are no’ yer only worry. If there are bandits in the area, the danger to ye grows many times worse.”

Ellie planted her fists on her hips in exasperation. “And ye plan to ride out into their midst. Alone. What sense does that make?”

Desperate, she looked to Donal. He stood silent on the opposite side of Jamie’s mount while they argued, nay, discussed, Jamie’s foolhardy plan. It sounded like he’d likely been doing the same thing Jamie had done to his saddlebag and tack on this side to eliminate anything that would make noise. Perhaps he’d help her talk some sense into his friend.

Ellie reached out and tapped the saddle to gain his attention. “Donal, tell him. This is madness.”

Donal stopped what he was doing and regarded her hand where it rested on the saddle, then lifted his gaze to hers.

Her heart skipped a beat. He looked so solemn. She clenched her fingers into a fist before drawing them back under her shawl. Was he, like her, running through his mind all the likely and possible disasters Jamie might face during this trip? Then he flicked a glance at Jamie and lifted one corner of his mouth. It was not quite a grin, and may even have been a grimace. Ellie was still trying to decide when Donal spoke, returning his gaze to her.

“Jamie leads the Lathan scouts. There’s no one better to travel unobserved. If anyone can get through to the treaty clans and the Aerie, it’s our Jamie.”

Ellie groaned and gave him her best glare. “Ye are no’ helping.”

Jamie touched her shoulder, wrenching her attention from Donal’s piercing stare back to the matter at hand. “Donal is, and will be, the best help ye could possibly have. He’s the canniest warrior I’ve ever seen in action. If trouble comes to ye, he’ll do everything he can to protect ye. And I’ll be back with reinforcements before ye ken I’ve gone.”

Ellie took a breath of the cold night air. “Ye’d better, if ye ken what’s good for ye. I didna sign that treaty only to have ye lose it in the woods.”

Jamie rewarded her attempt at humor with a grin.

She stepped back. Something clinked. “Ach, I nearly forgot.” She pulled three flasks from her pockets. “These contain the oldest, finest MacKyrie whisky. One is for ye, to warm ye on yer way. One for the treaty clan laird of yer choosin’, and one for the Lathan laird as thanks for lending all of ye. But I warn ye, use it sparingly. MacKyrie whisky is smooth, but it’s strong.”

“That I will,” Jamie told her. “Thank ye. I’ve no doubt it will be much appreciated by the others, too.” He tossed one flask to Donal to pack. Ellie watched him carefully stow the other two in the saddlebag on either side of the treaty, then shake the bag and nod when it made no noise.

“Mount up, Jamie,” Donal said. “Moonrise is in six hours. Ye need to be through the pass before then.”

Jamie nodded and swung up onto his horse.

Ellie couldn’t help herself. She covered her mouth to keep from objecting yet again, wishing she could forbid him to go. Wishing he would obey her. If only this trip were not necessary. In the abstract, her clan was worth any one man’s life. But Jamie’s?

He settled himself, then guided the horse around the bailey, checking the tack, head cocked as he listened for any noise that would carry in the stillness of the snow-covered night. Finally satisfied, he saluted briefly and turned his mount to the gate.

“Keep safe,” Ellie told him as Donal moved to her side. Laird, she must be laird. “The MacKyrie depends on ye.”

“That I can do, Laird.” Jamie answered her formality with his own. Then, with a quick nod to Donal and the other Lathans, spurred the horse into motion.

Ellie stood by the open gate and watched his starlit progress through the village until he disappeared into the woods beyond. Then she turned to Donal. For a moment, his gaze seemed to go through her. Then it sharpened and she knew he’d come back from whatever vision held him in thrall. “Ye harbor the same worries for him as I do. I see it in yer eyes.”

“It’s never good to see a clansman heading out into danger alone, lass. But our Jamie is like a ghost when he has the need. He’ll get through and be back soon enough.”

Ellie took Donal’s hand. “Are ye certain?”

“As certain as I can be.”

“I canna help worrying about all of ye. I’ve grown to care for...well.” Ellie paused and dropped Donal’s hand. He clasped her shoulder and wrapped one strong arm around her, tucking her body against his.

“Dinna fash, lass. I’ve seen Jamie in action. All will be well.”

Ellie looked into his eyes. Did he believe that, or did he merely intend it to comfort her?

“We’d best get back inside,” he said, interrupting her scrutiny, and turning her toward the keep. “Out of this cold.” He signaled for the guard to close the gates.

Ellie glanced up at the sky. The clouds were coming back, blocking out large sweeps of stars. Good. The darker night would keep Jamie from harm, as long as it didn’t start to snow again. Once through the pass, he’d be able to travel faster.

In the meantime, Donal’s arm around her made her feel warm and safe. His nearness seemed right somehow. She leaned her head closer to his. Their breath mingled in frosty streams in the chilly air as they walked back toward the door into the keep. A sign? Before Jamie’s return, she intended to work things out with Donal. Make him want to stay. With her or her clan, one way or the other. It shouldn’t matter, but it did. She wanted him with her, joined with her, not just her clan. She reached up and clasped his hand where it rested on her shoulder.

At the door, he paused and stroked her hair before he pulled her into his embrace. “Ellie,” he murmured.

“Aye?” She inhaled his scent, notable even to her chilled senses for its heat and musky maleness, and reveled in the hard strength of his body pressed against hers. She couldn’t bear the yearning that overtook her. If only she could stay in his arms all her life, just a woman, loved and cherished by this man. If only he would hold her like this forever.

But all too soon, he released her with a sigh and opened the door. “Nothing, lass. Go on in.” He gestured for her to precede him into the light, heat and scents of the great hall.

The feel of Donal’s embrace slipped away with the cold of the bailey as the warmth of the hall surrounded her. Her clan awaited her. Aye, to them she was Ellie, a girl they’d watched grow up into womanhood. But now, that mattered little. She stifled a shudder.

She’d sent an ally out to face the night and its dangers alone.

She was Laird.

Chapter 12

The next morning, she found Fergus out of bed, sitting in a chair by a sunny window. He’d been resting more comfortably the last day or two, growing more ill-tempered by the minute, which made Ellie very happy. Getting him involved in the planning to safeguard the MacKyrie keep was just what he needed. She needed his counsel, despite her trust of Donal. Fergus knew the keep and its surroundings better than anyone alive.

“Who got ye out of bed?” Her tone brooked no nonsense. She hid her delight at seeing him dressed and waiting for her.

“I got myself up, woman. I dinna need yer coddling. The fever’s gone. I’m ready to take on the MacDuff or anyone else who dares to sully our hall.”

“Does that include the Lathans?”

“What? Are ye daft? Nay.”

“That’s good, because they’re on their way here to seek yer wisdom.”

Fergus sat straighter at that comment.

“Aye, as they should.”

A knock at the door saved Ellie from the urge to giggle at Fergus’s display of ego. She admitted Micheil, Donal, and the other Lathans. Suddenly, the room seemed too small, crowded with the size and bulk of the five strong warriors and the MacKyries.

“’Tis good to see ye among the living,” Donal told Fergus as he offered his hand, wearing as close to a pleased expression as ever graced his face. Perhaps it was just a lessening of his habitual scowl. Nonetheless, Ellie’s face heated to see it. And Fergus seemed to bask in it as one would bask in the rays of the summer sun, warmed and soothed by its light and heat. Despite her concern that this meeting would exhaust Fergus’s limited reserves, she was suddenly very glad Donal had suggested it.

“I’m no’ that easy to kill,” Fergus replied, pushing himself to his feet, then clasping Donal’s offered hand.

“Sit, all of ye,” Ellie demanded, knowing Fergus would not return to his seat until the rest were comfortable. The longer he stayed on his feet, the more his color faded. She perched on the bedside stool and tipped her head, silently urging the others down. It wouldn’t do the old man any good to pass out in front of these warriors. Fortunately, they wasted no time finding a chair or a patch of floor to make their own. In moments, Fergus resumed his seat.

“Now,” she began and glanced at Donal. His icy green eyes were fixed on her. A shiver ran up her spine. She looked away at Fergus, needing to collect herself so she could continue speaking. “Fergus kens the MacKyrie lands like no other. If we’re to mount an effective defense, ye must hear what he has to say about the countryside and the neighboring clans.”

Fergus nodded while she spoke, giving her her due as laird to start the discussion. Once she stopped speaking, he looked from one Lathan to the next until he’d skewered them all with his gaze. Ellie kept her expression neutral. This was the Fergus of old, gathering his audience, making sure of their attention. She’d seen him do this many times with everyone from young lads training to be warriors to the MacKyrie men gathered around the hearth telling stories. That thought gave her a moment’s pause, recalling their lost men and the way life used to be.

“Ye look to be a braw lot,” Fergus began, interrupting her woolgathering, “but there’s no’ enough of ye to man the battlements, fight on the ground, and guard the distillery and the whisky deliveries as well.”

Donal nodded as he leaned forward. “All too true,” he replied.

“As I see it,” Fergus responded with barely a pause, “the most important task right now is to get the whisky to market. We need the income to ensure the future of MacKyrie.”

“Ye advise leaving the keep undefended?” Micheil stated his objection with a fierce scowl.

“With the gates closed, this keep is well able to keep out most of the neighboring ruffians.”

“Most?”

Ellie applauded Donal’s astuteness at picking up what Fergus was carefully leaving out.

Fergus cleared his throat. “Some willna bother us. But some, like the MacDuff”—Fergus paused and canted his head toward Ellie—“are determined to win MacKyrie however they can. We’ve fought skirmishes with them for years. That’s taken a sad toll on our fighting men.”