Knight Defender (Knight Chronicles) (8 page)

“So you’re feeling better.”

“Aye,” agreed Rhuad. He put the cloth aside and returned to his bed. “I’ll be fiddle fit as soon as your dragon of a sister lets me out of this bed. Maeve looks like such a sweet, pliable girl. I wouldna expect a will of iron to hide under such a luscious … ah, er … pleasant exterior.”

Raeb relaxed the fists he’d clenched to teach MacFearann respect for the MacKai women. Though truth to say, Raeb couldna blame any man for thinking lustful thoughts. His sisters were all lovely, each in her own way. But a wise man didn’t speak of lust for the sister to the brother.

“What keeps you here? You look capable enough of standing.”

Rhuad pulled at the nightshirt he wore. “Your sister took my clothes. I don’t suppose you’d lend me some?”

Raeb eyed the man’s lean, compact body. “Even had I clothing that would fit, I’m too familiar with the consequences of defying Maeve in her role as healer. She’s biddable as can be about almost everything else. Since she succeeds more often than not with healing, I yield to her in this one area.”

“Then I am condemned to at least one more day of confinement.”

“’Tis as well. This room is as private as we can get in the barracks. Tell me what message MacBirnum sends.”

“’Tis no from MacBirnum but from MacTavish.”

“MacTavish of Argyll? I’ve no met the man.”

“You are nae like to. He died.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I am telling this badly. I had a message from MacBirnum for Lord Lachlan MacTavish seeking confirmation of the number of men he would send in support of capturing Edward I’s troop ships. I arrived at the MacTavish castle in time for his funeral. So I delivered my message to his heir, Iver.”

“And what did this Iver say?”

“He said he would double his father’s promise of forty men.”

Raeb frowned. “’Tis scarce enough men for a battle with warriors hardened in the Welsh wars. However ’twill be sufficient if the other clans can send the same. Does he lead his men, and when do they plan to arrive?”

“He wouldna say. No until his conditions were accepted.”

“Conditions! What kind of young fool places conditions on the protection of Scotland?”

Rhuad raised his brows. “He’s no younger than you, though a great deal more arrogant.”

“You think I’m arrogant?”

A smile spread on MacFearann’s face. “I dinna think it.”

“Well then, what … ”

“I know it.”

Raeb felt his brain about to burst. “I offer you a roof, care for your wounds, and all due courtesy, yet you insult me.”

“’Tis no insult if ’tis true.” Rhuad raised a palm. “Hear me out. You get away with your arrogance because more often than no you are right. When you are no, your sisters put you in your place quickly. Also, you dinna hold a grudge when your manner causes trouble.”

Raeb grinned and looked Rhuad in the eye. “Nicely said. I will admit to a healthy helping of self worth, but I dinna allow it to misguide me. Whether the same is true of Iver MacTavish or no remains to be seen. What are his conditions?”

Rhuad swallowed then fixed his gaze with Raeb. “He wants a wife.”

“And I’m supposed to provide him one?”

The bastard son of the most hated man in Scotland simply looked at Raeb. “No just any wife. He wants one of the seven MacKai jewels.”

“He wants one of my sisters? Did he say which one? If he wants Sorcha, ’tis no possible.”

Rhuad shook his head. “MacTavish dinna say which one. What he did say was that if you accept his terms, he will arrive with his men two weeks before midsummer—when the troop ships are expected. At that time, he’ll, ah, inspect your sisters and chose the one he prefers.”

“Inspect? He’d treat noble ladies like cattle? I’ll cut his balls off before I’ll let him lay a finger on any of my sisters.”

“‘Inspect’ was his term, Raeb, no mine. I doubt he expects to check their teeth or their soundness.”

“Aye, if he’s as arrogant as you say, he probably doesna choose his words with care. If all he wants is to meet them and talk with them before proposing, I’ll allow it, but only if my sisters are willing.”

“So you’re going to ask them, no tell them?”

“Aye.”

“You do understand that MacTavish wants a guarantee of marriage to the sister of his choice before he’ll take one step beyond Argyll?”

“Aye. But I’ll no force any of my sisters into marriage.” Sorcha had been compelled to wed once and had nearly met with disaster. Raeb thrust a hand through his hair. “I must speak with them and ask if any are willing.”

“You canna explain why.”

“Of a certainty I canna. However, I can plead a debt owed that MacTavish is willing to forgive in exchange for a wife. If they press for more than that, I’ll say I promised no to speak of the conditions of the debt. My sisters have honor and will understand keeping a promise.”

Rhuad shrugged. “’Tis your skin and your sisters.”

Raeb walked to the door then paused and looked back at Rhuad. “Once I’ve spoken with my siblings, will you carry the message for me to MacTavish?”

“Since you’ve guaranteed to find me passage to the Isle of Witches, ’tis the least I can do.”

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll let you know what to tell MacTavish. I want to give my sisters as much time as I can to consider their answers. But for now, ’tis past time I go in search of my betrothed.”

Rhuad nodded. “Until the morrow.”

Raeb took the stairs at a much slower pace. Those eighty MacTavish warriors would tip the balance in Scotland’s favor when the battle with Edward’s troops came. But at what cost? He certainly couldn’t order any of his sisters to sacrifice themselves to a man of unknown character. He didn’t even want to ask it of them. An arranged marriage between friendly clans was one thing. But this? He could only pray all would turn out well.

• • •

After her talk with Angus, Jessamyn left the stable, Persia in tow, to find Maeve, Dougal, and Artis mounted and waiting for her. Of Raeb MacKai there was no sign. A tiny clutch of disappointment annoyed her. She would not waste a moment thinking about that man. Her goals would be achieved that much easier if he were not present.

“Is Baron MacKai not joining us?” she asked of the group.

Maeve and Dougal were so absorbed in looking at each other that they failed to note her approach or her question.

“Raeb sends his regrets, Jessamyn,” Artis announced. “He said to tell you an urgent matter has arisen.”

“Hmmm.” As excuses went it was sufficient enough not to be considered rude, but she had to wonder if this was not his true purpose, to make her believe he was finally going to play the suitor when all along he’d intended to avoid her. She shrugged and surveyed the horses. His plots could not matter to her, especially when her own plans were furthered.

Dougal’s destrier was a fine animal and, from its stillness, quite well trained. The other two mounts were some of the most disreputable looking horseflesh she’d ever seen. They had to be cart horses, which confirmed what she had learned from Angus.

Was Baron Raeb MacKai the sort of man to sacrifice his stables to help impoverished villagers? She’d not had enough experience of him to know, but the possibility that he was normally kind and considerate roused her suspicions about his treatment of her and his motives for ordering his household to be rude. More and more his discourtesy seemed out of character. She wanted her curiosity satisfied, and since she would not be able to ask him directly, she’d ask his sisters and Dougal.

“Let us be off then.” She smiled at Artis. “I am certain you will be excellent guides.”

A young boy led Persia to the mounting block and assisted Jessamyn into the saddle. The horse was smaller than most coursers, leading many to mistake her for no more than a gentle palfrey.

“Maeve, Dougal,” Artis called their names sharply. “Jessamyn is ready.”

Two heads lifted and turned startled gazes to their guest.

“I’m sorry,” said Maeve. “I was … ah … distracted.”

“Please forgive my neglect, my lady.” Dougal bowed his head and doffed his cap. “I am concerned that the MacKai has no chosen to share the nature of this urgent matter with me.”

They set their horses in motion with the two sisters in front.

“I gather the matter arose very recently. Is the baron normally more thoughtful when not pressed for time?”

“Aye. ’Tis a verra thoughtful man, he is,” admitted the captain of the guard. “A mite too thoughtful sometimes.”

More evidence that Raeb MacKai was not the man he showed himself to be with her. “Then perhaps the baron needs time to consider his possible options before seeking your counsel.”

Dougal met her gaze and gave a small smile. “I am sure that must be it, but please pardon my preoccupation. I shall no be content until I know what trouble has arisen. Meanwhile, let us endeavor to distract Maeve and Artis, for they too worry much about their brother.”

“Indeed, Baron MacKai appears more than capable of handling any crisis, and his sisters’ anxiety would trouble him. If I knew more, I might be better able to steer the conversation in a direction that would avoid stress.”

“That would be helpful, Lady Du Grace, but you ken as much of this latest matter as I.”

“Well enough.” Jessamyn sighed. “Let me see what I can do to distract Artis. I shall leave Maeve to you.”

She trotted forward until she rode beside the two sisters and engaged them in discussion of the route they would take. They told her the holding was large enough that several days’ ride was required to cover the entire property. Thus today they would travel the coastline as much as possible, saving the interior for later.

Eventually, Maeve dropped back to ride with Dougal. Jessamyn smiled inwardly. The couple was so obviously besotted with each other; they would ignore her and Artis for most of the day. Jessamyn could safely question the younger girl about the MacKai holding and its baron without fear of any interference.

“The Dungarob coastline is very dramatic and quite beautiful,” Jessamyn remarked. They traveled a well-worn path along the top of a low cliff, the crash of waves on the shore a reminder of how close the sea lay.

“I’m so glad you like it. Many of my favorite places lie along this path. Would you like to see them?”

“Certainly. Where will you take me first?”

“To the selkie’s grave.”

“Are selkies not water creatures? Why would anybody dig a grave for one?”

From her saddle the girl leaned closer to Jessamyn. “’Tis a watery grave, and marked only by the selkie’s footprints. ’Tis the footprints that keep the selkie’s soul tethered to earth. On moonless nights ’tis said that the selkie will hunt anyone unlucky enough to be near in hope of stealing that person’s soul and imprisoning it here in her place, so the selkie can be set free.”

“That’s a fascinating legend. Are you not afraid?”

“Nae, ’tisna now a moonless night.” The girl grinned. “To get there we must take the lower path.”

Jessamyn sighted along the line of Artis’s pointing finger. Their current track followed a shallow decline before splitting, one branch descending through a break in the cliff face, the other ascending then disappearing into a stand of pines.

She cast a quick glance back to make sure Maeve and Dougal were in sight.

They’d fallen farther behind, but the glance was enough to assure Jessamyn that the couple was behaving properly.

With Artis leading the way, Jessamyn guided her mount down a sharp rocky incline to a thin curve of beach. With the tide ebbing, they traveled along the curve for quite some distance.

“Artis, stop.” Becoming concerned about the distance they traveled and the problems occurring when the tide returned, Jessamyn reined in her own mount.

Artis followed suit. “Why?”

“How much further is this watery grave?”

“See that headland?” The girl pointed a few yards away where the cliff jutted outward cutting off the beach.

“Yes.”

“Well, you canna see it because of the shadows, but the grave is at the base of the cliff just back from the point.”

“You mean where the waves seem to disappear straight into the rock before rushing back out to sea?”

Artis nodded. “Right.”

Jessamyn looked back but did not see Maeve or Dougal. She gauged the distance from the start of the path at the top of the cliff to what must be a cave. Since she and Artis were nearly at their destination, they should have sufficient time to see the cave and return safely. She shook her head over the dawdling sweethearts. By the time she and Artis returned to the cliff top, the couple should have caught up with them. “All right. Lead on.”

The cave was much larger than Jessamyn had imagined, so they guided their mounts through small waves until they were well inside.

“Here,” Artis indicated a dry patch near the far wall. “The selkie’s footprints are easy to see.”

Jessamyn halted Persia beside Artis’s mount. A trail of footprints frozen in rock started near a wall of broken stone and led straight into the sea.

“Amazing.” Who made the trail? How had the prints existed for any amount of time without being washed away? Those questions would doubtless never be answered. But perhaps Artis could supply other information. They were not so far from Dungarob keep as the crow flies. What if this cave was the clan’s escape route? Would not Edward like to know that? Though could she give such information to her godfather when the end result would bring harm to people she was coming to like? Maybe she’d not tell Edward.

“Does this cave go back very far?”

“It does go very deep into the earth. I’ve even heard stories of a secret entrance into our keep’s dungeons. However, I’ve never been down here long enough to find out for certain. Raeb doesna like for me to come here, and he willna allow me near the dungeons.”

Jessamyn blanched. “You should have told me. He must think it unsafe.”

“He does.” The girl nodded. “If I told you then you would no have allowed me to show you the selkie’s grave.”

“No, I would not have. Come, let us leave now.” It was extremely careless not to question the girl more closely before coming here. Perhaps such neglect would aid in convincing Raeb MacKai that Jessamyn Du Grace would not suit him as a wife.