Bought By Their Alpha

by Bonnie Burrows

  ***

  As the sun fell on Dun Weir, the village quieted and torches were lit outside the mead hall. The guards changed shifts at the small hill fort that was home to the Clan leader, leaving their posts to go enjoy a night's drinking and singing.

  Mackenzie, weary from a hard day's labor on the Marr farm, and from her hour of lying with Cesan, made her way down the main road that led to the dun. Her arms ached and she was covered in dirt. But that didn’t matter, it’d been a whole day out of the fort, no stepmother to boss her around, no studies to attend to, just her work and her friends and her glorious time with Cesan.

  She had lots to think about. Normally, a woman in her position, and she felt like a woman today, would have no options. She would be a burden on her family, one more mouth to feed, but Mackenzie was her da’s only child. If she were to leave the dun then she would not be… she didn’t know what she would not be, and that bothered her.

  Who was she? Was she the daughter of the Clan Chief or was she Mackenzie the farmer?

  She didn’t know, and she felt that was a question she had to answer before she could marry Cesan.

  The village was lively as she approached. More torches than usual were lit, and there seemed to be a large gathering at the mead hall, not that it wasn’t normal for a great deal of people to be there. Clan Weir had one of the finest halls in all of the Highlands, something her father was very proud of.

  Several men, and quite a few women, spoke angrily outside the mead hall. Her father was there, on a small log trying to quiet the people down. Her curiosity peaked, Mackenzie made her way to the fringe of the crowd. She pulled up her hood to hide her locks, since she was the only blond girl in the village; she didn’t want her Da to know she was out late, he might ask why, and she didn’t want to lie to him.

  “What’s it mean Chief?” someone in the crowd asked. They were obviously upset and her Da was trying to calm them down.

  “Listen, it means the day after tomorrow, Clan Tiegan and their Chief Kirkpatrick, want us to meet on the south field to discuss terms, that’s all it means,” he said in his deep voice. Her Da was a bear of a man, barrel chested, with a huge beard that was once black as night but had long since gone gray.

  “Will there be a battle?” someone shouted. Worried cries exploded as everyone tried to talk at once.

  Mackenzie tried to remember what exactly Clan Tiegan had. She knew that they were large, and they held the territory south of her clan borders all the way to the end of the Highlands where the Argyle's territory started. Surely, they didn’t want to expand north. The only thing worth having up here was the haunted forest, and with the exception of the wolf they saw this morning, no sane man would want that wood; if not for the ghosts, then for the Revenaugh.

  “I don’t know, we will talk is all I can say. But just in case, spread the word. I want every fine man here tomorrow morning for drills. We can at least put on a good show for the bastards,” he said with a shout.

  The village erupted in cheers.

  Mackenzie wasn’t feeling cheerful. She wanted to shout at her da for even thinking of marching to battle. It had been years since the clan marched to war; they couldn’t hope to fight Clan Tiegan. She turned from the crowd and made her way around to see the message. It was a carving on bark, nothing more than Tiegan’s Tartan, and a crude drawing of the field a half days walk to the south. She didn’t hear her da move behind her but she did feel his presence.

  “Hi Da,” she said sweetly.

  “Don’t ‘hi Da’ me, lass, you were supposed to be back at the un hours ago, were you with that MacBride boy?”

  “We were helping out Deirdre's Da on the farm, that’s all,” she tried to sound as innocent as possible.

  “You act as if I was never a boy.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m just looking out for you, lass, but I suppose you're getting old enough to do that yourself. Now, off to the dun with you, we’ll talk later.”

  Mackenzie gave him a quick peck on the cheek and turned to leave. “Da,” she said, “does he want a battle?”

  Mackenzie’s da shook his head, “I don’t know, lass, but I fear he does.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mackenzie awoke with a start the next morning; her skin was soaked in sweat and her hair was matted to her scalp.

  What was that?

  She’d dreamed that the dun was on fire, that the people were fleeing as the army of Kirkpatrick laid waste to everything her family had built over the last hundred years.

  It’s just a dream, right?

  Mackenzie shook off the bad dream and got out from under her sheepskin blanket to stoke the fire in her room. It was always cold in the morning and it kept her in perpetual shivers until the fire warmed up the room.

  It only took her a half hour to bathe in cold water, brush out her matted hair and get dressed. She wore a simple green pleated skirt with her father’s tartan on it, a white top and black vest. She spent a little extra time braiding her curly blond hair in to an elaborate swirl around her scalp. She looked her best and she knew her father liked it when she did.

  Today, I talk to him about Cesan.

  Breakfast waited for her in the dun’s main hall, along with her da and her stepmom, Gwen.

  “More to ye lass, about time ye joined us, making your da wait isn’t a lady like thing to do.”

  “Yes Mum, sorry Da,” she said with her eyes down. It took everything in her not to argue with Gwen or throw her a nasty look. But this morning she needed to keep her da happy so he would say yes about Cesan. Once that was done, she could move on and figure out how to spend the last year of freedom she would have.

  “You look lovely this morning Mackenzie, something special today?” her father asked.

  Mackenzie took a deep breath, her stomach churned and rolled with nerves, but this was it. “As a matter of fact, Da, yes there is, you see there is…”

  One of her da’s fine men came in, she wasn’t sure which one, but he wore his fighting clothes, and a large flat sword strapped to his back. “Sorry to bother you Dugal, but you better come look. Kirkpatrick’s got men on the field already, not sure what they’re doing,” he told her da in a rush.

  “Whatever you have to say, it can wait Mackenzie. I’ve got to attend to this, speak with your mum if you must.”

  Da and the soldier left immediately, along with Mackenzie’s sense of hope. The timing had been perfect but now it's ruined.

  “Don’t you look like the spoiled brat ye are,” Gwen’s shrill voice interrupted her reverie.

  It wasn’t till recently that Mackenzie understood why her father married such an unpleasant woman. She bossed everyone around, acted like she owned the dun and Mackenzie’s da, and treated Mackenzie like filth begging from the gutter. But, Mackenzie had to admit, she was beautiful and young, not more than five years older than Mackenzie herself. She knew her da was looking for another child. He hoped for a son who could succeed him as chief. They’d been married since Mackenzie was eleven and still no child.

  “It’s not my fault you’re as barren as a rock in summer, just leave me be, ye wench,” Mackenzie regretted the words the instant she said them. She had no love for Gwen, and resented the way the older girl treated her but Gwen had her da’s ear, and she could make Mackenzie’s life worse if she put her mind to it.

  “Oh, ye have your tongue this morn, eh? Why don’t you help in the kitchen, if ye so much energy. Washing some pots might take some of the spirit out of ye,” she said with a barely controlled rage.

  “I’ll go change,” Mackenzie replied, trying to get things back under control.

  “No, go now, serve ye right if you spoil your pretty green dress. Why don’t you find some boy to lay with and get out of my hair? Surely you're whoring around as it is, get yerself with child and be over, you’re making your da miserable still being here at your age.”

  It stung, and Mackenzie sniffled back tears as she ran out of the room. She hadn’t had anyone in that way an
d though her heart yearned for Cesan, she was still a virgin.

  Horrible woman, why would she say that?

  It wasn’t uncommon for girls to be married as soon as they could bear children. Little Fanny MacBride, Cesan’s younger sister, was already married and she was just fourteen years old. She didn’t look fourteen though, she looked older than Gwen, which was why her Da had offers since she was eleven.

  Mackenzie though, while she felt she was pretty enough, was off limits to most boys and men. Cesan wouldn’t have ever said or done anything, which was why she made the first move. Her blond hair made her an oddity, despite her smooth skin, clear blue eyes and womanly figure. On top of that, Dugal was a loved Clan Chief and he doted on his daughter. No one wanted to take her away from him.

  Not that I’m in a hurry to leave. I can’t imagine poor Da alone all day with that shrew.

  She was familiar with the dozen or so people who ran the dun, more so than Gwen was, she was sure. Gretchen ran the kitchen and managed the scullery, Brian was the dun's internal leader, he took care of the household so her da could focus on leading the clan. It wasn’t a huge dun, not like some in the books she read, but it was big enough. Twelve rooms on the second floor, a large hall for meetings, parapets and walls strong enough to protect, not to mention, many secret entrances and exits that Mackenzie loved exploring.

  The dun was just to south of the Caern that the Clan took its name from, Caern Weir, built by the gods of old and given to her great-great-great grandfather. Not for the first time in her life, as she pulled up the sleeves to her top and dunked her hands elbow deep in dirty water, did Mackenzie wish she was a boy. If she were, she would be training with a sword instead of with dishes. Marriage would be something she wouldn’t have to worry about till her Da passed and she was clan leader. The cloudy water reflected her fate; she was a woman, and that was all she would ever be.

  ***

  Mackenzie finished her chores as the moon crested the Highlands and put a silvery blue glow on everything. She was seated on top of the northernmost tower; from there, she could almost make out the dark mass of trees that marked their northern border.

  “What ye doing up here lass, it’s late,” her father's voice drifted to her ears.

  “Thinking. What are ye doing up here? Shouldn't ye be resting for tomorrow?”

  “I guess I had some thinking to do on me own. Mind if I sit?” he asked.

  Mackenzie made way for her Da. There was just enough room for both of them to sit between the stone barricades that formed the top of the parapet

  “You were going to ask me something this morning, about a boy perhaps, the MacBride boy?”

  Mackenzie tried, and failed, to hide her shock. Her fathers bearded face split with a big grin.

  “How did ye know, Da?”

  “I’m old Mackenzie, not blind. I hear the way you speak of him, see the way you rush off before dawn to help Deirdre with her Da’s farm. I know he’s there, oh don’t look at me like that lass, I’m sure you would help her anyways, but there’s a certain lightness to your step when ye know he’ll be there, don’t deny it,” he said to her in a voice slung low for her ears only.

  In retrospect, she imagined everyone knew. Oh how Gwen must have relished the thought of her being with child so she could have her Da all to herself.

  “This morn I was prepared to ask your permission, now… I don’t know.”

  “What changed lass? He’s a fine young lad. A hard worker, a good warrior, he’d make a grand husband.”

  Mackenzie had asked herself that same question and she didn’t have an answer. Her soul called out to her to do more, to see more, to travel beyond the horizon where she was born. “I feel like I need to do more, Da, to be more, does that make sense?”

  He wrapped his arms around his daughter and hugged her tight. “It’s your ma’s blood in ye, lass, she was a Viking after all, wanderlust is part of who they are. She was a fighter, yer ma, a shieldmaiden for her people. We don’t have that here for ye. If there was someone ye loved and wanted to marry, I would give me blessing without a second thought, but if ye wish to stay as ye are, I’ll not say nay. I love ye, lass, with all my heart and soul, and I want ye to be happy.”

  Tears streamed down Mackenzie’s face, leaving clean streaks in the soot from cleaning the ovens. “Ah Da, I love ye too. And I like the boy but my heart says there's more.”

  “Ye know, yer ma always planned to make her mark here. No one but I took her seriously with her sword and shield, though she could best any three men, I imagine. She certainly captured my heart.”

  They went a few minutes without speaking, her enjoying the warm embrace of her Da as the moon flew through the sky.

  “Off to bed with ye now, get some rest, tomorrow should be interesting,” he said to her.

  She gave him a peck on his cheek and a long hug, “Thank ye, Da, I love you too,” she said to him before skipping off to her room. Her heart was a little less weary than before. She didn’t have to marry yet, but she knew that day would come. Until then, she had to guard her virtue carefully. She didn’t want to marry because she was in a rut.

  She wasn’t sure why, but she took the long way to her room, stopping by the main hall. Above her da’s ritual seat, was the square hafted, short hilted blade with the wolfs head pommel, of her Ma’s people, along with the round shield. Her da kept it above his head so he knew she was always watching him. It occurred to her that Gwen must hate the sight of anything that was her mother's, including Mackenzie, with her blond hair and blue eyes that looked so much like the woman Gwen could never replace.

  Once back in her room, Mackenzie stoked the fire, grabbed the leather bound book she so loved to read, and crawled under her sheepskin blankets. The book was the tale of the Revenaugh, and how it used to be a man who wished for power, and was now a great beast that roamed the northern woods slaying any who crossed its territory. It was a cautionary tale, but Mackenzie wished she had the same power, the power to decide her fate, for good or ill.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The fine men of Clan Weir looked resplendent in their tartans, with their rugged highland clothing, leather satchels, and of course, their swords and bucklers. There just wasn’t enough trees for the men to carry full sized shields, and no one dared the Northern Forest to get more.

  Mackenzie sat in her spot on the parapet looking down at the formation as the sun rose in the east. The men looked strong, and unafraid. Her father stood at their front, his massive claymore sword strapped to his back. All in all, they had fifty men who could fight, another twenty five slingers, and some fifteen to help carry the wounded. Cesan was there in the front, his da’s sword and shield hanging awkwardly from his belt.

  Mackenzie’s heart leaped to see him so, but her da wasn’t sure there was going to be a battle, so she had to keep her fear down, for both the men she loved, as it would do them no good. Still, she hated the thought of them marching off to battle and her stuck at home. Not that she could do any good but she wished she could.

  The sun lit the parapet up and it was time to go. Her da called out in a rough voice and the men lined up. He turned to look at the dun, his eyes drifting upwards until they met hers. A smile lit his face and she knew all would be well. With a wordless farewell, he turned the men and they began their march to the south field to meet Kirkpatrick of Clan Tiegan.

  Mackenzie watched until they were out of sight. She couldn’t quite shake the dream of the night before, of the village being razed, but she was sure her da could handle it.

  “Up at dawn, are ye? Well then, off to the scullery with you, if you have so much energy,” Gwen’s voice came from behind. Mackenzie tried to not let her shoulders sag knowing the wench had found her hiding spot.

  “Aye Gwen, I’m off,” she replied, not meeting her stepmom’s eyes as she marched by.

  “Mackenzie,” she said in an unexpectedly soft voice, “Your da, he’ll be okay.”

  Mackenzie nodded her response bef
ore heading downstairs. Again, she was drawn to her ma’s things. She found herself standing in front of her da’s chair looking up at the sword with the wolfs head pommel. What did it mean? Was that a symbol for her ma’s clan? Or was it to put fear in the hearts of her opponents. Not for the thousandth time, Mackenzie caught herself wishing she could’ve met her ma.

  A terrible fear gripped her heart, her skin broke out in sweat as she realized that this morning could have been the last time she saw her da. That no matter the thinking, marching off to a battlefield was still dangerous. What she would do to have met her ma? She would give anything. She wouldn’t stay put, washing dishes while her da marched off to battle. Even if she couldn’t help, she would at least see him one more time.

  She raced down the hallway, dodging the female staff that remained behind. Even Brian marched off. Any and all able bodied men in the clan who could walk the distance went with them. Down the kitchen, behind the statue of her great-gran, was a small hole, too small for a man to fit through, almost too small for her but it led to a tunnel that drained the water from the kitchen. In moments, Mackenzie was outside, covered in mud and bits, but outside.

  The sun was a quarter way up, they would almost be there but she could run faster than a group could march. Without thinking of food or water, she took off like a shot to the south. The uneven ground proved slow going but this was land Mackenzie spent her whole life exploring. She knew every game trail, every fox hole, every ditch and gully.

  The sun was shining overhead when she reached the outside of the field. She could see the rear of her Da’s men, lined up and waiting in the sun, silent as the grave. It set her stomach churning and the fear she felt watching her village burn in her dream came back in a flood. She dodged to the west; a few hundred yards from where they were was a small berm. It would be ideal to watch the proceeding.

  She got to the top and nearly screamed. Clan Tiegan was not fifty men, it wasn’t a hundred men, it was five hundred, at least. The sea of tartans that spread out before her da was vast and unending. Their clan leader, Kirkpatrick was mounted on a black steed as large as any bear Mackenzie had ever seen.