“Does he live there all the time?” she asked. “I’ve heard of Alexander Grant and his famous sword skills, but I thought he lived at Grant Castle. My brothers were hoping to see him parry during this visit. They say he’s verra good for an old man, or so my brother thinks.”
“Do you understand much about the war? He’s at my cousin’s castle because the English have tried to use him, to blackmail him.”
She gasped. Although she didn’t understand everything she’d overheard about the war, she knew many in Scotland wished to remain independent and the English refused to allow it. “Then why does he not stay here? ’Tis much farther from the English.”
“He stays to protect MacLintock Castle, my cousin’s family especially. The English tried to steal my cousin’s two-year-old son to get to Grandsire. But we saved him. The spectral swords did their job, which is why I fear I’ll have to go there soon.”
“What kind of swords?”
“Spectral. ’Tis my grandsire’s name for them. ’Tis a long explanation, so I’ll just say this for now. When my three cousins—Alasdair, Els, and Dyna—and I fight together, our swords take on an unusual strength. I believe Dyna and I will be called to MacLintock Castle soon. If my grandsire perceives another threat to one of the Grants, we’ll have to leave quickly to fight the English.”
She’d only ever heard of such things in the stories of old, songs and tales about heroes with unimaginable strength. But she believed in the mysteries of life, and she believed in Alick. It awed her to think he’d been chosen for such a purpose.
“Alick, what you do is so important. Someday I hope you’ll tell me all about it, but I’ll be sad to hear you’ve left Grant Castle.”
“I don’t wish to leave yet,” he said, pulling her closer. “I’d prefer to get to know you better. How I wish you could meet my grandsire. He’d ask you to sit with him and tell him all about your clan. Ask you about Thane Castle and King Robert.”
He smiled, thinking of how serious his grandfather could be, yet he could make them all laugh with one short comment.
“Why do you smile? You must be thinking of your grandsire.”
His eyes shined when he answered her. “I laugh because we all love him so. And I dread the day he passes. I suspect he’d know exactly what to do to gain your sire’s acceptance. Unfortunately, since he’s at my cousin’s keep, I’ll have to find another I can ask, and I think I know the right one.”
“Your sire?”
“Nay, I’ll ask my mother. They say she thinks much like Grandsire.”
“Have I met her? Which one is she?”
“She’s been abed sick. It weighs on her, what’s happening in our land. Sometimes she gets bad headaches or even the heaves. When she’s feeling poorly, she doesn’t like to be in large groups. She stays away from the noise in the great hall.”
Worry snaked into Branwen. The last thing she wanted was for his mother to resent her. “Mayhap you should wait before you bother her,” she suggested.
“Nay, I’ll sneak in and ask her on the morrow.” He gave her a quick kiss then stood, helping her to her feet. “I better get you back before you are missed, but I will find you promptly after I speak with my mother. We can count on her to help us. She’s verra good at persuading others to her way of thinking.” His next words were spoken in a husky whisper: “I promise I will come to court you soon.”
He squeezed her hand and whispered, “I look forward to many more kisses. You do belong with me, not Osbert Ware.”
How she prayed they could be together.
They headed back, hand in hand, and suddenly Alick stopped.
“What is it?” she whispered, wondering if there was an animal nearby. She wasn’t the least bit worried because Alick’s presence gave her a sense of security she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Wait here,” he said, running off toward a knoll. “I see something up there.” He pointed and headed up the hill, only to stop halfway up. He returned quickly, hurrying down the hill faster than he’d run up it.
“What’s wrong?”
He took her hand and moved her forward a bit faster than before. “A nest of adders. I caught the odd pattern moving in the grass.”
“’Tis why you went there?”
“Nay, did you not see the bluebells? I wanted to pick a flower for you, but I’ll have to find another patch.” He grinned at her. “I’ll admit to you, and you alone, that I don’t like snakes. I’m hurrying just in case one of them decided to follow me.”
She couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder, and he squeezed her hand. “I’ll protect you.”
She had never felt more certain of anything in her life. Alick MacNicol would protect her from everything. Even her father.
Chapter Six
Alick knocked on the door to his mother’s chamber the morn after his talk with Branwen. He wanted to speak with her before he broke his fast, afraid that Branwen’s sire might wish to leave early.
“Mama, how do you fare this morn?” he asked from the door, wanting to give her privacy if she needed it.
A weak voice said, “I’m better, Alick. Please come in.”
He stepped inside the door and made his way to her bedside. He waited, knowing she’d have questions for him before he could ask his own. In true form, she started with Chrissa, the one most likely to engage in questionable practices.
“Have you been watching over Chrissa? She hasn’t been getting in trouble like she is wont to do, has she?”
“Nay, she’s been skittering everywhere like she loves to do during a festival, but otherwise she’s behaving.”
“That lass will cause every one of my hairs to turn gray, I swear it. But never mind. I hear you have news. Come sit by me. Papa says you met someone.”
She sat up in bed, brushing her long hair back from her face, and patted an open spot on the mattress. With her dark hair and blue eyes, Kyla Grant was still one of the most beautiful women on Grant land. Big-hearted and very protective of her clan and her father, she stayed close to home most of the time.
Which was one of the reasons Alick preferred to do the same.
“Alick, who is she?”
He sat down on the bed next to her and kissed her cheek before he answered. “Her name is Branwen Denton. She’s verra pretty and quiet, although I suspect that’s mostly because her sire is cruel to her. The first time we met, he tried to slap her for dancing with me. I didn’t approve and stopped him.”
“Papa told me. He said Uncle Connor was there, too.”
“Aye, he supported me. What does Da think of her?”
“He hasn’t said much. Why do you like her? Anyone would be sympathetic to her plight, but is that what draws you to her?”
“Nay. There were dozens of pretty lasses in the hall that night, but she caught my eye. She was standing in the corner of the hall all by herself, watching everything, and something about the look on her face… I had to cross the room to introduce myself. I taught her how to do some simple dance steps, and we had so much fun dancing until her sire stepped in and ruined it. I’ll admit I became protective of her.”
“Tell me what else you know of her clan.”
He could see the weakness in his mother as she leaned back against a propped pillow for support. “Shall I rearrange your pillows for you?”
“Nay,” she said, waving her hand at him. “I’m fine adjusting them myself. Alick, you must stop fussing over me so. The past is in the past. Why does it still haunt you?”
Haunt was a great word for it. It did haunt him, and it anchored him too. To her. Although he didn’t understand why, he’d found himself thinking of it more of late. If he let on to his cousins, they would most definitely tease him. His mother was right—it had happened long ago. The summer he was six or seven, at the Ramsay festival, which they tried to attend every year.
It was so long ago.
But he remembered the fear as if it were yesterday, and the event had been repeating itself in his dr
eams of late…
He and Alasdair and Els had been chasing each other near the field where the games were being held, keeping busy while the elders took part in the obstacle course for the horsemen. He’d already watched his sire, his grandsire, Uncle Jake, Uncle Jamie, Uncle Quade, and Uncle Connor ride.
Then his cousins declared they were to have their own game—racing with two girls. He laughed and ran off with them, much like he always did, heading for a nearby field.
“Be careful, Alick,” his mother had called out after him from her position near the field. She and Aunt Celestina were watching the horse event together.
He just laughed again. Only he couldn’t keep up with his cousins or the two lasses they were after. All he knew was the lasses were taller than the lads. He had so many cousins on Ramsay land that he often got confused.
Alick was the shortest at the time, and it made him the slowest. He chased after them, across the nearby meadow toward the archery field, but they were nowhere to be seen. Dyna came up behind him and said, “You’ll not catch them. You may as well stay with us and watch the horses.”
He waved Dyna off, dismissing her.
“Dyna,” Aunt Sela called out, never far from her. “Alick wants to play with the lads. Leave him be.”
Dyna left, and he hung back to watch her go, just to make sure she made it back to her mother. His mother had always told him he was overprotective of his cousins, especially Dyna. But she was always nearby when he needed help, and he tried to do the same for her.
When he turned back in search for Alasdair and Els, they’d both disappeared. He ran after them until he was out of breath and his legs were tired, but he still could not find them. He tried three different spots without any luck.
Why wouldn’t they wait for him? He was so upset, he called out, hoping they could hear his voice. “Els! Dair! You never wait for me.”
He finally gave up, moving back to the obstacle field, his head hanging, thinking maybe he’d sit on his mother’s lap since his cousins weren’t around to tease him. Aye, he was a big lad now, but he still loved his mother. “Mama,” he called out as he approached the field. “Mama?”
She wasn’t there.
He searched down the side of the field but didn’t see her. His sire was to be next on the course, and he was mounted and waiting. He searched for his younger brother, Broc, but didn’t see him either. And Aunt Celestina and Aunt Sela had also disappeared.
“Mama?” he turned around to head back toward the keep. Where could she have gone?
And that was when he panicked.
“Mama!” he screamed, his chubby legs churning back toward the keep. He ran and ran, to the gates, through the courtyard, through all the festival tents, in case she’d gone for a meat pie or a pastry.
Nowhere to be seen. Tears flooded his cheeks and he ran in circles, his vision so blurred he had no way of seeing the people he bumped into, but he’d know if he found his mama. She had a sweet aroma unlike any other.
“Alick, stop,” a familiar voice called out to him. “Wait for me.”
Although he was in too much of a panic to register who was speaking to him, he stopped anyway.
“Alick.” His grandmother leaned down to pick him up, and he didn’t care if anyone saw it. Perhaps he was too big to be hugged, but not by Grandmama Maddie.
Alick clung to the woman is if he feared to lose her, too. “Grandmama, they’ve taken her. I’m sure of it.” He sobbed into her shoulder and his dear grandmother carried him over to the bench in Aunt Brenna’s garden, rubbing his back in her soothing way, her voice alone able to calm him down.
“Alick, no one has stolen your mother.”
He stopped and moved over to sit on the bench next to her, looking up at Grandmama, her smile warming him through and through. Everything would be all right. He was certain of it now that Grandmama was here.
Wouldn’t it? He gazed up at her, swiping his tears away. “But I heard them talking by the hearth about the men who took her prisoner. They hurt her, and Papa had to save her. I have to go get him. He’ll need to save her again.”
“Nay, laddie, calm down. She’s not been stolen. She has one of those pains in her head. You know how she gets them sometimes.”
“But she didn’t tell me. She would have told me if she had to leave.”
“She tried to find you, but you were on the far side of the field. I sent her off to bed and told her I’d find you. Your brother is with Aunt Celestina in the kitchens. Your mother is probably sleeping. Do you wish to peek in on her? She was going to Aunt Brenna’s healing chamber for some potion, then she was going to rest.”
Just listening to his grandmother made all the hurt go away. His mother was probably fine.
“Where did you hear that story about her being stolen?” she asked softly.
“Papa was telling Uncle Quade and Gavin and some others last eve after the evening meal.” She ran her fingers through his thick hair, trying to straighten the waves, her touch so comforting that he leaned into her hand for more.
“That happened a long time ago before they were married. Your parents would never leave you.” Grandmama tugged him closer, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug, humming one of her favorite songs. “You’ll be fine. Come, I’ll take you to Mama.”
And she had. His mother had been sound asleep, like an angel.
His mother’s voice brought him back from his memories. Still, he had no idea why such a minor incident should have stayed with him, or why it had come back to haunt him again.
To him, she looked exactly the same now as she had that day on Ramsay land.
“What did you say, Mama?”
“Her mother. Do I know her?”
“Her uncle is the Earl of Thane…” Her gaze widened briefly, likely because the earl had not yet sided with King Robert. At least the man was a Scot. He decided to tell his mother the rest of what he knew about Branwen, then see what she had to say. “Her mother died two years ago, leaving Branwen with the two brothers. Roy is ten and Nab is five summers. She said her sire gives them the freedom to do as they wish, but she is restricted and has to watch over them often. I asked him if I could court Branwen and he refused me, stating she was betrothed. Branwen told me her betrothal was just announced and it is to Osbert Ware. Do you know him, Mama?”
His mother’s brow furrowed. “He has four daughters and a couple of sons, does he not? He’d be quite a bit older than Branwen.”
“Aye, ’tis the one. I found him trying to force a kiss on her in the garden. She said Osbert told her she had no choice since they were betrothed.”
His mother’s head shook so quickly in denial that he nearly jumped.
“Nay,” she said vehemently. “She has the right to refuse him, though I understand that Clan Grant believes differently than many others. But once they become husband and wife, he’ll do as he wishes.”
The door opened with a bang and they both started on the bed. It was his father, clearly with some important news or he wouldn’t be moving toward them with such haste.
“What news have you, Finlay? I can almost read it all over your face,” Mama said.
“All of the remaining visitors left just after dawn.” He caught Alick’s eye and grimaced. “Branwen did not look happy, but what was I to do? I could not force them to stay. A messenger arrived from MacLintock Castle just after they departed. Written by Alasdair and signed by your papa. It says they have received word that Edward has sent men to attack a few castles in the Lowlands. MacLintock is one of them. Alasdair wants two hundred warriors.”
“Again? Will Edward never stop harassing the Scots?” Mama asked.
Alick’s heart had stopped at both pieces of unwelcome news. “Branwen and Osbert are to be married in a fortnight. I don’t know if I can go to MacLintock Castle and return in so short a time.”
His father shot him a look. “Grandsire sent a separate missive for you. He also had one for Dyna.” He handed Alick a small piece of parc
hment, which he immediately opened, read, and then refolded.
“He wants Dyna and I both to come.”
“Why?” his father asked. “You may not be needed, and if you have your heart set on this lass, you should follow her.” The look that passed between his parents was one Alick had seen many times—his father was beseeching his mother to agree with him, but when it came to Grandsire, they didn’t always see eye to eye.
“I know why he and Dyna are wanted, and you should know also, Finlay,” Mama said, her lips pursed. “Think on it. Alasdair and Elshander are already there.”
Da groaned as if the answer to her question had just come to him. “The Highland Swords.”
Alick nodded his agreement. “I have to go or Grandpapa will be furious. He thinks our ability will make all the difference in the battle.”
“Go pack your things, Alick,” his mother said. “You must go to MacLintock Castle. You have a fortnight before you must worry about Branwen Denton.”
Alick stood so quickly, he nearly lost his balance.
The spectral swords were needed. He hoped Branwen would forgive him.
Chapter Seven
Branwen still reeled from the hasty exit she’d been forced to make from Grant Castle. A maid had come to rouse her, telling her that her sire had demanded she meet him at the stables in a quarter hour. Part of her had wished to rebel, to simply not go. But she knew how her father would retaliate if she tried it.
She’d looked for Alick, but there’d been no sign of him about the hall, in the courtyard, or in the stables. And so she’d made her way to her sweet mare and mounted, believing with all her heart that Alick would find his way to Thane land before she was forced to marry Osbert. And if he did not, she would escape on her own. She had to.
She feared Osbert would travel with them since he lived on the other side of the woods from Thane land, but he did not join them. They traveled with five Thane guards. It was a quiet trip home on the cloudy gray day, but no one bothered them. They arrived home before nightfall, and Fia greeted them just past the stables, Nab delighted to see them home. “Papa!” he shouted.
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