Highlander's Faerie (Highlander Heat Book 5) (9 page)

“Damn it.” John traipsed toward his brother. “Finlay MacLean is a snake. He knew exactly how to conceal himself.”

“We’ll find him, John. He cannae evade us forever.”

“You’re damn right we’ll find—” Pain slammed through his chest and he stumbled to his knees.

“John?” Archie grasped his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

’Twas as if someone had taken a spear and thrust it right through his heart. He patted his back to be sure no one had attacked him from behind. The pain slowly receded but not the sheer ache in his soul. That could be only one thing. “’Tis Katherine. Something’s happened to her. I have to go.”

With one hand on the ground, he shoved to his feet then raced toward his tethered horse. Behind him, Archie ordered Eric and the others to continue following the warrior’s tracks then sprinted after him.

John mounted and rode hard toward Dunyvaig. He urged his black destrier faster down the narrow forest path edging the cliffs. Below, the sea roared and crashed against the jagged rock wall.

White-hot terror cut through him. ’Twas as if his soul-deep connection with Katherine was stretching to its farthest point, tearing at his chest. Everything within him demanded he find her.

Fisting his horse’s reins, he burst out of the forest and plunged down the hillside toward an isolated bay, the very one he’d searched following Katherine’s nightmare, and the very one he checked again each day. Across the rocky beach a scrap of black and white tartan fluttered where it had snagged between two boulders, while out at sea a skiff’s white sail caught the moonlight then disappeared in the dark toward the north.

“What it is?” Archie called as he rode in beside him.

“Katherine’s gone. I can feel the depth of my loss through our bond. We need to sail to Mull.” She was on that skiff, and he was certain of it. “The warrior has her.”

He slammed his knees into his steed, jumped a fallen tree across his path and raced toward Dunyvaig. He’d make chase, and as quickly as he could.

After two days of bitter wind in her face and a night on the cold ground when they’d stopped at the Isle of Jura’s northern tip to rest, the sea journey to Mull was almost done.

Katherine huddled within her black and white plaid as Duart Castle rose like a fortress in the moonlight ahead. The MacLean stronghold sat prominently at the point where the Sound of Mull intersected with Loch Linne and the Firth of Lorne. Land rose from the water in every direction. The stronghold held a very favorable position with its unhindered views.

A few hundred feet inland, the castle’s massive gray tower windows were lit with candlelight, its fortified walls topped with battlements and guardsmen roaming the ramparts. Lachlan MacLean’s vast holdings stretched across several isles, from Mull to Jura and to Coll, yet this was his favored stronghold.

“We’re almost there.” Finlay lowered the sail and plunged his oars into the depths of the water as he maneuvered the skiff toward the sea-gate.

Near the stone landing, two large men waded into the water. Each seized a side of the skiff as they came abreast of them. They guided the boat the last few feet and nestled it next to the stone stairs.

Another warrior appeared out of the dark along the castle trail, his massive claymore strapped across his back. Dressed in black leather trews and an emerald silk tunic, the colors matched his midnight-black hair and vivid green eyes to perfection. The warrior eyed Finlay. “We thought you’d been captured. Welcome home, cousin.”

“The MacDonalds searched for me, but I managed to evade them.” He bounded onto the landing and gripped the warrior in a firm forearm hold then motioned toward her. “I’ve brought you a gift, Captain, a bargaining chip to be used against the MacDonalds.”

The dark-haired warrior scrutinized her. “A bargaining chip? All I see a lass dressed in lad’s clothing.”

“This is Lachlan’s faerie. She was there when we battled for the Rhinns.”

The warrior edged forward, one thumb sliding under his claymore’s front belted strap. “I wasnae there, but I heard Lachlan’s faerie has long white-blond hair, that she came forth from the guardians’ circle and is of both clans, her father a MacLean and her mother a MacDonald. I’ll have your name, lass.”

She fought the chill in her bones and stood to gain some height. “Katherine MacLean, and I was already on my way here when I met Finlay. I’ve come willingly, or willingly enough. I also won’t be considered as a bargaining chip. I’m here to learn more about my MacLean kin.” She tugged the cap from her head and her locks fell in a soft swish to her waist. “Here is your proof of who I am.”

He watched her, one brow slowly rising then resting a hand on Finlay’s shoulder, he said, “I understand why you would bring her here, but using women and children as pawns in our war bothers me. She’s also a MacLean, one of our own. I’ll need to think on what we’re to do.”

“Lachlan wouldnae think twice about it, Arthur. Using her as leverage to gain an advantage against the MacDonalds is imperative. Our numbers have been severely depleted from our last battle and we cannae win this war through the usual means.”

“She is still a MacLean.” Arthur stepped toward her and extended his hand. “It appears you’ll be here to stay for a while. Welcome to Duart.”

“Thank you.” She tucked her bag over her shoulder and took his hand.

He swung her onto the landing beside him and her legs shook from being confined to one position for so long. “Are you well?” He kept a steadying hand on her elbow as she wobbled.

“I’m not used to being at sea or traveling for such a long length of time across water.”

“Then come. You’ll no doubt enjoy a warm bath and a meal.” He led her across the pebbly beach and toward the trail. They followed the path up the grassy rise then strode past flickering torches mounted against the stone walls of the bailey.

From the direction of the entrance, a boisterous buzz of voices echoed toward her and she took a deep, fortifying breath and entered the great hall. The vaulted room held high wooden beamed rafters, and the walls were covered with beautiful tapestries, of hunting and landscape scenes. The sight of trestle tables stacked with platters of cooked meat, boiled eggs, and bread, made her empty belly rumble. On wooden benches, a good hundred warriors or more sat, while serving maids carrying trays holding steaming bowls of stew, weaved around them. This clan thrived even though they’d suffered the imprisonment of their chief and the loss of a number of their men in the recent battle.

“There’s Margaret.” Arthur urged her toward the dais where a woman stood, her gaze on them as they crossed the room. Margaret looked so similar to Mary with her pale complexion, freckled cheeks, and red-gold locks tumbling down to her waist, except this woman wasn’t carrying as Mary was. Tall and lithe, her corseted red velvet gown hugged her trim waist, the red and gold silk ribbons lacing the front an entwining of rich colors. “The chief’s wife will tend you during your stay, of which I shall decide the manner, and how long it shall be. Margaret.” Arthur laid his hand on the woman’s shoulder and gestured toward her. “Meet Lachlan’s faerie, Katherine MacLean. She was present at the battle of the Rhinns, and Finlay has returned with her from Islay.”

Margaret’s eyes widened. “Arthur, please, dinnae tell me Finlay stole her away from the MacDonalds.”

“She insists she came willingly.”

“It’s all right, I did.” She stepped up to Margaret and lifted Mary’s talisman for her to see. “This amulet is Mary’s, recently gifted to me. She was most grateful for your kindness to her son while he remained here during the negotiations to free his father. Mary told me to seek you out.”

She cast her gaze over the piece. “Aye, ’tis the same amulet she placed around her son’s neck when she sent him here. Did my sister-by-marriage have another request of me?”

“I’m to ask you for aid.”

“Then let’s speak in private. Excuse us, Arthur.” Margaret led her toward the stairwell then slowed as a maid walked toward her. “Maddie, I need you to prepare a bath for our guest, and be as quick as you can about it. Mistress Katherine’s to have the blue chamber next to mine.”

“Aye, my lady.” The girl dashed upstairs.

“Margaret,” Arthur called, his arms crossed and his booted feet planted wide. “I’ll post a guard at her door. Our guest is no’ permitted free reign to wander about Duart. With the laird away, I’m responsible for this clan and she has come forth from the MacDonalds’ lair.”

“Of course.” Margaret tightened her grip on Katherine. “This way.” She hurried up the winding stairs, guided her down a dimly lit passageway and slowed as ahead, two lanky lads with their shirttails fluttering loose over their breeches, heaved a tub through a doorway.

They entered the chamber and the lads set the tub down and shuffled out. Across the room, Maddie knelt at the hearth, coaxing the sparks of a welcoming fire into life. She added a log and it crackled and caught alight.

Rising, she dusted her hands against her aproned sides. “Is there aught more you need, my lady?”

Margaret nodded. “Aye, a tray, and to fetch some gowns from my ambry. It appears our guest has arrived with very little clothing.”

Maddie bobbed her head and quietly closed the door behind her.

“Thank you. I had to leave Dunyvaig rather suddenly and I have just what’s on me.” She set the satchel with the meager supplies Marie had given her on the end of the four-poster bed with its rich burgundy velvet canopy. “I’m truly glad to be here.”

“You may be fae, but you’re also MacLean. I dinnae wish for you to fear during your stay with us.” Looking into her eyes, Margaret squeezed her hands, her fingers warm around hers. “I will watch over you, just as I did with James.”

“Thank you.” This woman she didn’t know would one day carry her paternal line. Margaret MacLean wasn’t just the chief’s wife, but her ancestor, just as Mary was. She soaked in the sight of her. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

“Aye, though likely no’ under these circumstances.”

“Well, one can’t always pick and choose the right time for a visit, or at least so I’ve learnt.”

“I agree.” She smiled. “Tell me about yourself, Katherine. What is the world of the fae like?”

“Would you believe that they actually sent me here to you?”

“Whatever for?”

“I’m to bring about some peace between the clans.”

“Oh dear.” She blew out a long breath. “Then it seems you’ve been given an impossible task.”

A knock sounded and Margaret released her. She bid the servants to enter.

Two maids and two lads hustled forward, each carrying a steaming pail of water. Maddie returned and hung a couple of gowns in the burgundy curtained ambry, while another lass carried a tray and set it on the side table.

Margaret oversaw the filling of the tub then added a few drops of scented oil. After the servants left, she shut the door and patted the chair in front of the table. “Come, Katherine. There’s a warm meal. You must be hungry after your journey.”

“Very, and thank you.” She’d had little more than oatcakes and water for two days straight.” She sat and poked her nose into the steam wafting from the bowl of chunky seafood stew. “This smells delicious.” She nabbed a slice of crusty bread, dipped it, and took a hearty bite. Warmth raced to her belly. “Could you tell me exactly how you see things between the clans?”

“Of course.” Margaret sat on the blue and gray padded corner chair next to her. “What do you wish to know in particular?”

“Why does Lachlan fight so hard to take possession of Islay’s west?” Mary had told her Lachlan warred as he did in order to return to his clan all his father had lost, but Margaret might be able to provide more information.

“He fights to right the wrongs of his past.” She dipped a finger under the red lace edging of her bodice and freed a gold necklace. The disk dangling from it held the engraved image of a unicorn. She rolled the piece between her thumb and forefinger. “In the short five years Lachlan’s father was chief, he gambled away his lands on Islay, but they were unfairly lost to him. ’Tis why he’s so determined to get the Rhinns back. They are his, not Angus MacDonald’s.”

“Do you believe the king will sort all this out now that he has all three of the feuding chiefs in Edinburgh?” She sipped wine from the goblet.

“The king wishes for my husband to enter into talks, but I know Lachlan well and he will also fight any decision the king requests if it does no’ go his way.” She crossed to the tub, knelt and swirled her hand through the water. “This is the perfect heat. Come and have your bath.”

“I’d love one.” She shed her tunic and breeches, glad to be done with the clothing she’d worn since she’d left Islay. She stepped into the tub and sank into the water. She dunked her head, emerged and picked up the soap. She lathered and worked the vanilla scented suds gently through her hair while Margaret raised her hands toward the warmth of the fire, a wistful look on her face.

Likely she bore the same expression. There was so much to think about. Margaret and Mary deserved some peace, as did their clans. Only how could she make a difference and bring about that peace without changing history?

The weight of her mission bore down on her. Gently, she picked up her amulet and squeezed it tight as the fae’s words returned to her.
You and your twin are two halves of one whole, the beginning and the end. You must complete what your sister has set in motion. Keep your warrior protector close. To bring peace, you must unite.

A chilling horn shrilled outside and Margaret hurried to the window, flung the shutters open and wedged sideways out to get a better look.

“What is it?” She splashed out of the tub, wrapped the drying cloth around her and dashed toward Margaret.

“The alert has been raised by the point watchman. An unknown vessel approaches Duart.”

* * * *

John’s men rowed through the dark, sending their birlinn swiftly across the Sound of Mull toward the MacLean stronghold. Their sea crossing was almost at an end. He and Archie had followed closely in the MacLean warrior’s wake, leaving only a scant few hours after their enemy had. As they rounded the point, a horn sounded with one long and eerie blast across Duart Bay.

“It appears our arrival has been noted.” Archie eased onto the rear bench seat beside him and lifted the collar of his steel-studded war coat higher over his neck. “Duart Castle has never fallen for a reason. ’Tis well-guarded and impenetrable. What’s your plan of attack?”

“We’ll sail right into their sea-gate and request a place to rest for the night.”

Archie raised a speculative brow. “An interesting plan. I take it you intend to force them into honoring the Highland code of hospitality?”

“Aye. I hardly need to raise my sword when Katherine’s wish is to bring about some peace.” As much as he detested having to request hospitality, he had to consider Katherine’s feelings. He had to give her a fighting chance at seeing to her mission, whether he believed in it or not.

“Even if they allow us entry, they could easily slaughter us in our sleep. The MacLeans are well known for extending that form of hospitality, or have you forgotten what Lachlan so recently did to John MacIan?”

The MacIans of Ardnamurchan were their kin, and in times of war, they stood by each other’s sides. When John MacIan had accepted an invitation from Lachlan to Duart Castle only a few years past, it had ended in the cold-blooded killing of eighteen of MacIan’s men at Lachlan’s hand, and following that, John MacIan had been locked in Duart’s dungeons for a year.