“But ye lost so much.”
“No more than ye did. Did Laird Munro let ye misbehave?”
“Nay.”
“Well neither did Uncle Bhaltair. Let it go. We have enough to deal with going forward, considering how much he hates my husband.”
Alec chuckled. “This is yer revenge, isn’t it? Ye married Eoin just to goad Uncle Bhaltair.”
Fiona laughed. “I married Eoin because he loves me and I love him. The fact that it annoys the life out of Uncle Bhaltair is just an added benefit.”
Seventeen
Eoin entered the hall after Sutherland left to address his men. He ordered the gates open and the villagers returned to their homes. Tasgall and Aiden sat at the table and Bhaltair stood by the hearth, scowling, staring into the flames. Fiona entered the room from the stairwell, greeting Eoin with a hug and kiss.
Hearing this, Bhaltair turned to face them. “So everyone is happy and in love—how nice.” The bitterness in his tone took Eoin aback.
“I would think, after the many losses they have endured in their young lives, ye wouldn’t begrudge Alec and Fiona a bit of happiness.”
“I don’t begrudge Alec his happiness. Fiona has always been contrary, but I would see her happy too. By all that’s holy, I arranged a marriage for her to a fine young man. I sent her to live with them so she wouldn’t be marrying a stranger. I wanted her to be happy. Just not with ye. And I sure as hell didn’t want ye happy. If I could send ye to Satan’s deepest pit, I would. If there were any justice, yer da would be waiting there for ye.”
“Uncle Bhaltair, how can ye say that?”
“Bhaltair, what in the name of all that’s holy did the MacKays do to earn such profound hatred?” asked Aiden.
“I don’t hate the MacKays. I hate yer father and yer brother.”
“Until the night of that ill-fated raid, I had never even met ye. What could I have possibly done to earn such animosity?” asked Eoin.
Bhaltair shook his head in disgust and turned away.
“I love yer niece with all of my being. I only want her happiness. If ye go on like this, nursing this vitriol, she is the one who will suffer most. If ye truly want Fiona to be happy, please tell me what the source of yer hatred is and maybe we can put it to rest.”
Bhaltair rounded on him. “Do ye think ye’re the only young man ever to fall in love? My brother Angus fell in love with Sheila MacDonnell and our father moved heaven and earth to see that they were married. It didn’t matter that another bride, a better alliance would have been in the clan’s best interest. Then I fell in love. She was the most beautiful woman who ever drew breath. I loved her more than life itself and by some miracle, she loved me too.” A tear slipped down Bhaltair’s cheek.
“I imagined a life with her, at my brother’s side—his right hand—both blissfully in love with our wives, building a strong clan, raising our children together, growing old together. But our father wasn’t able to arrange my betrothal.”
Anna stepped from the shadow of the tower stairs “But sir, ye’re married. Fiona told me about her Aunt Sorcha.”
“I’m not talking about Sorcha, lass.”
Eoin turned on her. “Anna, this isn’t the time. Ye were told to stay in yer room. I will send for ye when the evening meal is served.”
Anna ignored him and Bhaltair continued to rant. “Sorcha. I didn’t want to marry her. I could never love her as I loved Morven Ross.”
“Who is Morven Ross?” asked Fiona.
Eoin was stunned. “My mother.”
“Aye, yer mother. Her father wouldn’t agree to a betrothal with me. The great Kentigern MacKay had offered for her and he was the laird’s heir. I was only a second son. It didn’t matter that she didn’t love him. It didn’t matter that she begged and pleaded with her father to marry me. Nothing any of us said mattered. Kentigern wanted her and that was that.”
Bhaltair’s profound hatred became instantly clear to Eoin. If he had lost Fiona today, if Bram had taken her, he wouldn’t have rested until Bram was dead.
Bhaltair must have read the moment of realization on Eoin’s face. “Understand now, do ye?”
“Aye, sir, and I’m sorry. I came very close to losing Fiona today and I think it would have killed me.”
Anna crossed the room and laid her hand gently on Bhaltair’s arm.
“Anna, I said leave!”
Once again Anna ignored him. “But sir, Eoin is Morven’s son. How is it ye hate him so?”
Bhaltair looked intently at her. “He killed her. He killed her.”
Anna looked confused. “Nay, he didn’t, ye’re mistaken.” She looked at Eoin. “Tell him, Eoin.”
“Anna, pet, my mother died giving birth to me. That is what he means.”
She patted Bhaltair’s arm as one would a distraught child’s. “But that isn’t Eoin’s fault. My mother died giving birth to me. I can’t help that.”
“Ye don’t understand. I loved her.” Bhaltair started to tremble and sob. “I loved her so very much and I never saw her again. I never held her again. I was never able to say good bye.”
Fiona was dumbstruck; she had never seen her uncle like this before. Anna put her arms around him until he regained control. “Sir, let me ask ye something. If ye had married Morven and she died giving birth to yer son, would ye have blamed him? Would ye hate him and vow vengeance against him?”
“Nay, of course not, but Eoin MacKay is not my son. He is Kentigern’s.”
“Aye, but he is Morven’s son too. What’s more, his children will be her grandchildren—part of her and yer great nieces or nephews, so part of ye as well. Do ye suppose ye could put yer hate aside for them?”
Bhaltair looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Who are ye?”
She smiled warmly. “I’m Anna MacKay.”
“Anna MacKay, ye’re too bold for yer own good.”
“Aye, she is. Anna, I asked ye to leave.”
“Ye always ask me to leave, Eoin, and I’m not ready to go yet.
“Yer sister, MacKay? Ye deserve her, but Anna, lass, ye’re right. I’ve held onto hatred for a long time. There is no one left to visit my revenge on.”
“Do ye mean that, Uncle Bhaltair? Can we have peace between the MacNicols and the MacKays?”
“Aye, Fiona.” Her uncle looked very old and tired. She crossed the room and put her arms around him. “I’m sorry lass. I truly didn’t mean to abandon ye. It was the only option I saw to keep both ye and my men alive. After what I had done to him, I didn’t think he would negotiate—I wouldn’t have. Any show of weakness would have made his revenge sweeter still. Fiona, I swear to ye, I believed he wouldn’t pass on the chance to get the ransom from Sutherland.”
“I understand, Uncle. It could have been a disaster, but thankfully it wasn’t.”
He arched an eyebrow at her and she laughed. “Well, it wasn’t a disaster for me. The two of ye’re stuck with each other as in-laws. That serves ye both right for holding on to yer hatred for so long.”
~ * ~
The evening meal that night was somewhat subdued. The fear and tension from the day had left Fiona exhausted. Anna was a better hostess, chatting with the Sutherlands as if they were old friends invited for a visit rather than men who had ridden to the gates of Naomh-dùn prepared to lay siege. Bram had been a voice of reason and nothing but kind to Fiona, but she couldn’t help feeling a little anxious for them to leave.
When they finally retired that evening, she launched herself into Eoin’s arms. She couldn’t hold him tightly enough or quench her desire for his passionate kisses and tender caresses. She poured every bit of her love for him into their joining. They both expressed their passion for each other with wild abandon, reaching magical, dizzying heights. Finally, sated, they rested in each other’s embrace. She could hear the pounding of his heart return to normal as her head lay on his chest. She finally gave voice to the fear which had gripped her all afternoon. “I nearly lost ye today.”
>
“Nay, Fiona, ye didn’t. I would never have allowed that to happen.”
“But if it had happened, it would have killed me.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Then we would have entered paradise together, because I surely couldn’t have lived without ye.” He was pensive for a moment. “The things yer uncle said about loving my mother and hating my father—I understood them. I would have seen Bram Sutherland dead before I let him take ye from me.”
“I have never seen that side of my uncle before. He has always been so rigid and unemotional. I understand why a bit more now, although I feel sorry for Aunt Sorcha.”
“Did he treat her very badly?”
“Nay, not at all. He was never unkind to her. In fact, she is the only one he ever gives in to. Stephen is fifteen and not in training yet, because she won’t agree to send him away. I’m sure Uncle Bhaltair loves her in his own way. It is just—well they were never like my parents. It always felt as if something was missing. I guess I understand now what it was.” She remembered her conversation about love with Anna. If Uncle Bhaltair lost Sorcha, he would miss her terribly, but his world would not end.
“Maybe Alec could get his alliance with the Sutherlands by sending yer cousin to train there.”
“Nay Eoin, I’m telling ye, Aunt Sorcha won’t allow it.”
“But he is a lad, he has to go someday. Every son of a noble family must. It is part of growing up.”
“Honestly, he is not cut out for it. He is on the small side and not particularly strong, but he is kind-hearted and really very smart. I think Aunt Sorcha intends for him to study at an abbey.”
Eoin stroked her back lightly for a while. Fiona was just beginning to drift to sleep when he asked, “What did Bram say to ye?”
She smiled. She’d wondered when he would get around to this. “He wanted to know if I loved ye.”
“He could have asked ye that in the hall.” Eoin sounded irritated.
“Aye, he could have. Eoin, I think he was both trying to protect me and save yer feelings as well. He wanted to know for sure that ye hadn’t forced me to marry ye, or that I hadn’t married ye only because I felt forsaken. If I didn’t love ye, my answer might have been hard for ye to hear.”
“What did ye tell him?”
“What do ye think I told him, ye big eejit?”
He frowned and gave her backside a playful swat. “I want to hear ye say the words.”
She rose until she was looking him directly in the eyes. “I said I loved ye with every fiber of my being, that ye were my soul mate and I would give my life for ye.”
Eoin chuckled and kissed her. “What did he say to that?”
“He said he would regret to his dying day not escorting me from Castle MacNicol himself.”
Eoin tightened his embrace and kissed her again. “Ah, my darling bride, heart of my own heart, I will be equally thankful to my dying day that he didn’t.”
Epilogue
Bhaltair sat in the great hall of the MacKay stronghold, breaking his fast with the Sutherlands and several of his own men. As a younger man he had dreamed of this, only in his dreams he was the conqueror. He presided at the table after having destroyed Kentigern MacKay and all remnants of his family; he wasn’t sitting among them breaking bread. This would take some getting used to. As soon as Alec was well enough to make the journey home, they would leave. Perhaps if he weren’t faced with this on a daily basis, it would be easier to take. His musings were interrupted by Kentigern’s youngest, the fiery haired, bold, obstinate, lass, in front of whom he had fallen apart the previous evening. What the hell was her name?
“Good morning, Laird Sutherland, Bram. I trust ye slept well.”
“Aye we did, lass, thank ye for the kind hospitality,” answered Laird Sutherland.
“Good morning to ye too, Uncle Bhaltair. Ye don’t mind if I call ye that do ye? Since Fiona is yer niece and I’m her sister-in-law now, it seems fitting.”
Uncle Bhaltair? One of Kentigern’s spawn was calling him Uncle Bhaltair? Well this was as good a place to start as any. “Nay, lass, that’s fine.”
She broke off a piece of bread and started poking bites into her mouth. Bram Sutherland grinned at her, “Lady Anna, can I slice off a piece of cheese for ye?”
“Nay, thank ye, I’ll just have a bit of bread.”
Anna, that’s the chit’s name.
“Are ye finished breaking yer fast, Uncle Bhaltair? I want to show ye something.”
“Aye, I’m finished, but I’m not interested. Maybe young Sutherland here would like to see.”
“Nay, it is for ye, and ye can’t possibly know whether ye would be interested or not, because ye don’t know what it is I want to show ye.”
Bram Sutherland laughed, damn him.
“I don’t care. Thank ye all the same, lass.”
She grabbed his arm and tugged. “Come on. Ye aren’t doing anything else.”
Bram Sutherland said, “Go on Bhaltair, appease the lass. She’s right, ye aren’t doing anything else.”
He glared at Bram, then at Anna. “Do ye ever listen?”
“Not often. My da used to say—”
“Don’t talk to me about yer da.”
Bram laughed again.
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Then come with me.”
Somehow he knew she would only hound him until he agreed, especially with Sutherland egging her on. The sooner he went with her, the sooner he would be rid of her. “Fine. Show me what ye will and then leave me alone.”
She grinned, took his hand and led him from the hall, into the courtyard.
“Where are ye taking me?” His tone of voice would have been a clear warning to any of his clan members but Anna MacKay seemed oblivious.
“You’ll see.” She led him to Naomh-dùn’s church. Perhaps there was some bit of stained glass she was proud of. That seemed the kind of thing a lass like her might want to show him. However, instead of entering the church, she led him behind it, to the graveyard, stopping in front of a grave bearing the name Sulwin MacKay.
“This is my mother’s grave.”
“Ye made that scene in the hall and dragged me here to see yer mother’s grave?”
“Not exactly. Last night ye said ye never got to say goodbye to yer true love. I never even got to say hello to my mother. My brothers remember her, but all I have is this.”
“I’m sorry, lass.” He truly was. He squeezed her hand.
She smiled. “I had Grizel. She took care of us after mama died. She loved me, but sometimes I just wanted a mother to talk to. Grizel told me to talk to her here.” She blushed, as if she were a little embarrassed. “I know she isn’t really here. She is in heaven and I could probably talk to her anywhere. But this place is always quiet and for some reason, I feel very close to her when I’m here.”
Bhaltair wondered what she was leading up to, but tried not to show his impatience. “We all suffer loss. I’m glad ye were able to find some solace, Anna.”
She pulled him down the row a bit. “This is Morven’s grave.”
It felt as if his heart missed a beat.
“I thought maybe ye would feel better if ye talked to her, even just to tell her goodbye.” She squeezed his hand before releasing it, and walked quietly away.
Morven. Tears came to his eyes; he blinked them back. Damn that wee fireball. He started to walk away but something stopped him. What could it hurt? He turned back around and stared at the grave for a moment before kneeling beside it. His mind was instantly filled with images of the woman he loved so dearly. He felt the excruciating pain of loss as fresh as it had been twenty-nine years ago when she married Kentigern Mackay, and then, only a year later when he heard she had died in childbirth. Both of those times, his anger overtook him. He could only curse God and Kentigern MacKay. Each time, when his anger was spent, he was left feeling nothing but bitter hatred. Maybe Anna’s way was better.
“Morven, my precious lass, ye know I loved ye as I
have never loved anyone else.” A gust of wind blew, rustling the leaves of the hedge that lined the graveyard. “I am so sorry we couldn’t spend our lives together. Maybe I should have done more to see that we did. Maybe I should have stolen ye away.”
He could almost hear her laughing answer, “Nay, God forbid. Ye would have rushed in like a daft fool and my da would have split ye in two.”
He smiled. As difficult as he found it to control his temper as an old man, he’d been much worse in his youth. If he had done something that foolish, he very likely would have been killed. “Yer right. It seems fate had different plans for us, but damnation, I miss ye. Oh, I know, Sorcha is a good woman. I guess holding ye so firmly in my heart hasn’t left much room for her.” He listened to the wind blow for a few moments. “Yer son is a fine strong warrior. He looks a bit like ye, and he is too stubborn by far, but I suppose that is like ye as well. I’ll admit I am a bit envious. My son is a good lad, as smart as they come, but he will never be a warrior. Oh, aye, I suppose ye’re right, he might make an outstanding priest. Sorcha would like that.
“Have ye met that lass Anna? What am I saying? There is no way ye couldn’t have. She’s a hard one to miss, what with the red hair and bold manner. Aye, I know, she means well. She thought perhaps I should say goodbye to ye. Now that I’m thinking about it though, maybe I’ll just tell ye I love ye and I’ll be back another day. My niece is Lady MacKay now, ye know. She married Kentigern’s damn—aye, love, I realize he’s yer son too, I’m sorry. I’ll get over it.” The wind was definitely picking up now, blowing in a cold mist. “It seems a storm is coming, my darling, I’d better go now.” He sighed. “I love ye Morven.” He rose and walked out of the graveyard feeling more at peace than he had in years. The Highland wind whipped around him and the first fat raindrops fell as he walked back to the keep.
About the Author
Ceci started her career as an oncology nurse at a leading research hospital, and eventually became a successful medical writer. In 1991 she married a young Irish carpenter who she met at a friend’s wedding. They raised their family in central New Jersey but now live with their dogs and birds in paradise, also known as southwest Florida. While she loves spending time writing “happily ever afters” she still works fulltime in the pharmaceutical industry.
Highland Revenge (Fated Hearts Book 1) Page 11
