by Fiona Faris
Images of their time alone in the highland croft during the storm flashed through her mind, causing her face to flush. She knew she shouldn’t have such thoughts, given everything that had transpired since that time, but she could not help herself. The comfort his body brought her was as undeniable as the longings it stirred within her for more, much more. She found herself wishing that he had not exhibited such self-control when they had been alone together, naked, in the dark of night. She shivered, her fear and trembling momentarily replaced by an urgent hungry need for his naked body to once again lie hard and smooth beneath her curious fingers. His shaft stiffened pressed against her thigh telling her that he felt the same. She resisted the urge to wiggle against it and instead comforted herself with the idea that he desired her as much as she desired him.
When they reached the courtyard, Duncan dismounted, pulling Marra from the saddle and into his arms. He hesitated to place her on the ground, holding her against him, his eyes boring into hers a message of such intense need it rendered her breathless. “Duncan!” a voice called from the doorway of the keep, and he was forced to release her, placing her gently upon the ground. He threw the reins to a stableman and walked up the stairs to where his father awaited him with Marra in tow, holding her hand as if he were afraid to let her go.
“Faither,” he greeted the laird. “I have brought as many o’ the MacDonalds as were willin’. They will all need food and shelter.”
“I will arrange a welcoming’ feast for tonight so that nae one will be left hungry or feel forgotten. These people have been through enough. It is my sincerest wish that they will find a true sanctuary here with us.”
“On behalf o’ my fellow clansmen, I thank ye for yer generous hospitality.” Marra curtsied as he took her hand and kissed it.
“I shall inform the cook right away. Please do whatever is needed tae provide for yer people,” he instructed her then left for the kitchens. “Tonight we will raise a toast tae all those that have been lost.”
Marra watched him go, wondering at his generous spirit. “Yer faither is nothin’ like the man I was raised tae believe him tae be,” she noted to Duncan.
“I am glad ye think so, lass,” he smiled gently at her. “I hope ye are able tae think o’ our home as yer own. I wish for ye tae be comfortable here.”
“I am sure I will be. It is most certainly better than a pallet on the floor o’ a croft full o’ snoring highlanders.”
“I should say so,” he chuckled and led her inside.
As they walked through the keep together with his hand on the small of her back, there were more than a few angry, disapproving glances in their direction. “I dinnae believe that yer fellow clansmen are happy with ye and yer faither’s offer o’ sanctuary tae an enemy clan,” she whispered, moving closer to his side.
“Nae, they are no’ pleased. They disagree with my choices, but dinnae fash, they will come around tae my way o’ thinkin’ afore tae long. They are auld warriors who prefer the blade tae diplomacy, but they will no’ be able tae resist ye once they ken the bonnie lass ye truly are.”
Marra smiled at his words and hoped that he was right. She appreciated the effort he went to in order to make her feel comfortable in spite of the open hostility that surrounded her. Duncan barked a command for the men who were staring at her to go and stand guard duty, but they did not move. It was as if they had not heard him at all. Marra’s smile faded. “Why do they no’ obey yer orders?”
“I am a hunter, no’ a warrior. The auld warriors dinnae believe that I can lead the clan after father passes and show their disapproval whenever possible. ‘Tis no’ for ye tae worry about, lass. I will go and have a word with them once ye are settled.”
They moved across the great hall and climbed the stairs up to Duncan’s mother’s old rooms. “It is good tae be back here. I thank ye for all ye have done for me and my clansmen.”
“The pleasure is all mine, lass. Rest, bathe, and I will return for ye soon so that we may see tae the housin’ o’ yer people. I will have some food and hot water sent up tae ye.” Duncan moved forward, kissed her, gently caressing her cheek with the palm of his hand, and then left the room.
Marra stood alone in the center of the room. Her head and eyes aching from the strain of holding back the tears. Her lips tingled with the echoes of his kiss. Her cheek glowed from the lingering warmth of his palm. Looking down at her disheveled state, she frowned at the realization that everything she owned was now no more than ash in the wind. She was covered in dirt, soot, and blood. Disrobing, she crawled beneath the bed linens and closed her eyes. Her mind was too preoccupied with fear for the future to sleep, but she allowed herself to drift somewhere in between the realms of wakefulness and slumber. She did not rest for long before a maid brought her a pitcher of hot water, a clean cloth, and a bowl of parritch. Opening the chest at the foot of the bed, the maid pulled out a clean chemise, an olive green skirt with burnt scarlet floral embroidery, and a matching bodice.
Marra crawled out of bed and reached out to touch the intricate embroidered pattern. It matched her hair perfectly. “My Lady was about yer size, I believe, bless her dearly departed soul,” the maid mused, holding the clothing up to gauge the fit.
“’Tis lovely,” Marra murmured, smiling in gratitude for the maid’s thoughtfulness.
Marra bathed, and then the maid assisted her in donning the beautiful garments. She combed out her hair until it glistened, free of tangles and debris. A little while later Duncan returned as promised and escorted her down to the great hall. Ian was there, and she rushed forward to inquire after Diana’s state of health.
“The healer is doin’ all she can, lass,” Ian answered her questions. “We dinnae ken if she will survive the night.”
Marra choked back a sob of denial. She could not bear the idea of losing Diana so soon after losing her father. “I should go and sit with her.”
“The healer says she needs quiet. Rebecca is with her now. We will inform ye as soon as there is any change.”
Marra considered arguing with him, but decided against it as she had already done so in order to get Diana to the healer. She did not wish to alienate Ian further. He already viewed her as incapable of leadership. It would not do to reinforce that idea through petty squabbles about who would best care for Diana. “Where are our people?” Marra asked looking around her.
“They have chosen not to come,” one of the Campbell warriors who had been on the island with them stepped forward to explain. “They could no’ countenance takin’ refuge among their enemies and refused tae come.”
“As soon as Diana is well, we will be returnin’ tae Jura as well,” Ian informed her.
“But what if ye are attacked again?” Marra asked, her eyes pleading for him to reconsider.
“’Tis unlikely that such a thing will occur. ‘Tis better tae be in danger with one’s own than tae rest in safety among yer enemies.”
“That is simply untrue,” Marra protested his foolishness. “Our food stores were destroyed in the fire. How will ye feed yerselves before the next planting is ready tae harvest?”
“The other MacDonald chieftains will send men and goods.”
“Ye are certain o’ aid and yet ye ken all tae well that Faither was no’ well liked among his fellow chieftains. They could just as easily refuse aid as offer it.”
“I dinnae mean any disrespect tae the laird’s memory, but yer faither is dead.” A kitchen maid walked over to Ian and handed him a basket of food. “Now if ye will excuse me, My Lady, I must return tae the healer’s croft tae see tae my family.
Marra watched him walk away, frustrated at his level of distrust and prejudice. She allowed Duncan to lead her up onto a dais at the far end of the hall where the laird sat awaiting them at the high table. “I dinnae ken why, after all ye have done tae aid us when ye did no’ have tae do so, that they cannae let go o’ the hatred. Yer actions have shown that ye are no’ the ones responsible for our demise, and yet they persis
t in blamin’ ye.”
“Give them time. Feuds as long and as deep as ours are no’ ended by a single act o’ charity,” Duncan advised. “Ye cannae change them or the way they feel. They must come tae ken it in their own way, in their own time.”
Turning to the laird, Marra apologized for wasting his efforts in providing a feast for her remaining clansmen. “Dinnae fash, lass. Ye alone are worthy o’ the effort,” Fergus waved away her apologies. “If they choose tae join us, there is plenty for all.”
“I cannae remain if my fellow clansmen and women refuse tae follow.” She did not wish to leave, but she would have little choice unless she was willing to abandon her clan.
“Ye cannae return and put yerself in further danger,” Duncan argued, frowning.
Marra appreciated his concern more than he would ever know. “My people need me, Duncan. With Faither gone, I am all they have left tae see tae their wellbeing. Ye ken as well as I what will happen tae them without the protection o’ a chieftain. If they refuse tae come here where they will be under yer faither’s protection, then I must return with Diana tae the island when the time comes. I cannae allow a man as full o’ hatred as Ian is tae lead our people. If he were tae be allowed tae take charge, our respective clans would be at war in less than a fortnight.”
“I will no’ just let ye go without protection. The man who took ye is still out there, as are the men who killed yer faither.” Duncan protested with such passion that she laid her hand on his arm in comfort.
“I ken it all tae well, but I have a responsibility tae my clan as their lady.”
“Ian has made it quite clear that he will no’ follow a woman nae matter if she is the Lady o’ the Isles.”
“I am well aware.” Marra smiled at his use of her family’s former title before they had been defeated centuries before. She was fairly certain that a large portion of her father’s grudge against his family had been a continuance of that original feud against the Campbells. She knew something had happened between their fathers at the Battle of Dunkeld, but they had never revealed what it was. Unless Duncan’s father decided to share with his son the cause of the feud, it would most likely die with him; but the hatred they had planted within their people would go on unless she and Duncan found a way to reconcile the differences.
Chapter Thirteen
Duncan could not believe that Marra was willing to risk her life by leaving the protection of his father’s keep after everything that she had been through. It was unfathomable to him to simply stand by and allow her to go without doing everything within his power to dissuade her. The need to keep her safe was all he could think about from the moment he had found her in that croft tied up on the floor. I cannae lose her now that I have found her. When he closed his eyes he could still feel her head on his chest, skin against skin.
Every time he attempted to dissuade her from leaving, she would rebuff him. When Diana regained consciousness, he escorted Marra down to see her. The maid had come very close to dying in the days following the attack, and Marra had gone to visit her everyday, spending hours at her bedside talking, singing, reading; anything to let her know that she was there. Duncan had stood guard by the door, her voice floating through the opening and enchanting him to his very soul with every syllable that fell from her lips. He determined to never let her out of his sight and had acted as her guard and escort everywhere but her bedchamber. The more time he spent with her, the harder he fell, enamored by her grace, compassion, and ethereal beauty.
His heart longed to take her into his arms and keep her there always, but since their last kiss, she had resisted his caresses. He was not sure what had caused her reticence when they had shared so much together in the highland croft, but since coming to stay at the MacGregor keep, she had been every bit the lady, discarding any and all passion or feeling for him. Since their conversation about her returning home on the first night at the castle, she had withdrawn into herself, but for when she was with Diana. He knew she was concerned about her maid’s wellbeing and attempted to give her the emotional space she desired while still guarding her bodily person. Ian had been of little aid in making her to feel at ease in his presence, constantly ridiculing Marra for consorting with the enemy. It took every bit of his strength for him not to hit the man every time he opened his mouth.
As Duncan stood in the doorway watching Marra and Diana embrace, both weeping with joy for her miraculous escape from death, his heart constricted in his chest. She would be leaving him as soon as her maid was able to travel. Ian walked up to him and stood barring his view of the beautiful scene. “What is it, MacDonald?” he asked barely concealing his dislike for the man.
“Now that my sister is awake, we will be leavin’ as soon as the healer says she is able tae travel. Have ye heard back from yer emissaries yet?”
“Nae, I have no’. I sent my cousin Lachlan tae the MacDonald lands farthest tae the north, so I would nae expect tae have heard from him as o’ yet, but the others should return any time now.”
“I have no’ heard anythin’ from Robert or Liam either,” Marra’s voice called from behind them. Ian turned to look at her, surprised that he had been overheard.
“Then I should no’ fash just yet. It is unlikely that they would harm one o’ their own.” He had been growing concerned for his men, but hearing that none of the envoys had returned brought him some reassurance.
“Nae, I dinnae believe that they would harm either my men or yers, Duncan,” she reassured him.
“I am greatly surprised that my brother allowed ye tae bring me here,” Diana admitted to Marra.
“It was either this or ye died,” Ian growled with disgust. “I will be glad tae leave as soon as is possible.”
“E’en after spendin’ these days among us, ye still believe my people tae be yer enemies?” Duncan asked, shaking his head in dismay at the man’s stubborn prejudices. “We have shown ye nothin’ but kindness and hospitality.”
“And for that I am grateful, but I will no’ rest easy until my feet rest once more on my island home.” Ian’s eyes took on a somewhat wistful expression as if he were picturing the beautiful blue grey waters and green forests in his mind. “E’en a day apart from her sweet earth is tae long away.” He spoke with the tone one would use for a cherished lover.
Duncan was surprised to find himself feeling envious of the man’s certainty. He had never felt anything akin to what Ian felt for Jura about his own home. He had always felt more at home in the wild, hunting game and living off of the land as he went. He had not been on a hunt since meeting Marra at the gathering. He missed the peace of the forest, and he longed to share it with her. He promised himself that if they all made it through the coming days unscathed, he would take her.
“’Twill ne’er be the same with the laird gone and the castle destroyed,” Diana murmured sadly from her pallet.
“Nae, it will no’,” Marra agreed, her eyes misting with tears.
Duncan fought the urge to move forward and take her into his arms. It pained him to see her suffering so, and he longed to take away her pain but did not know how. “I sent a clergyman this morning to consecrate the burial grounds as ye wished,” Duncan informed them, hoping that it would assuage their grief in some small measure.
“I thank ye for yer kindness,” Marra remarked, smiling up at him through her tears. “The matter was weighing heavy upon my thoughts. Tae have faither and our dear kinsmen laid tae rest in unconsecrated ground would be a sacrilege.”
“Indeed,” Diana agreed. She nodded her head in agreement and let out a cry of pain.
“Dinnae move,” scolded the healer, Idonea. “Ye are disturbin’ her rest. Ye should all go now and allow her tae sleep. She will need all o’ the rest she can get if she is tae make the journey back to Jura any time soon.”
“Aye. Forgive the intrusion, Idonea. Diana it is good tae see yer bright shinin’ eyes once more. Ye had us all quite worried for a time.” Duncan stepped forward, kissed the maid’s h
and, and aided Marra up from where she sat on the floor beside her maid’s pallet. They stepped out of the croft together and into the sunlight.
Pulling her hand through his arm, he led her down to the water’s edge so that she might see the outline of her island home from the shore. “I dinnae wish for ye tae go, Marra.”
She turned and met his eyes. “Ye ken that I must, Duncan.” She extracted her hand from his and sat down on a flat rock by the water. She removed her shoes and stockings, allowing her feet to dangle in the cool sea, waves gently lapping at her pale white toes.
Duncan moved to sit next to her, but did not touch her. “Why have ye pulled away from me these last days? Ye have gone from returnin’ my embrace with fevered passion, tae turnin’ away from me at every opportunity.”
Marra looked out over the water toward Jura. “If I dinnae push ye away, I will ne’er be able tae leave ye, and I cannae abandon my people nae matter how much I may cry out for yer touch in the dark o’ night.” She turned to look at him, tears in her eyes.
Unable to stop himself, Duncan pulled her into his arms and kissed her as a man starved. He tangled his fingers in her long red tresses, holding her to him. “I cannae let ye go,” he whispered against her lips. Her breath, quickened from the kiss, tickled his skin, sending sensations coursing throughout his entire body. He wanted nothing more than to lay her down in the grass right there and make love to her. “Marra, I…”
