by Fiona Faris
“Ye have seen my faither’s wrath more than most, Liam.”
Duncan had not taken the time to get to know the warriors’ names as he had been in such a hurry to find Marra before it was too late. As he tended to his pony, he watched her as she interacted with her clansmen. He had been wary of them from the moment they had met, but watching her with them gave him a different perspective to consider. She was comfortable with them in a jovial way that he had not seen her exhibit before. While they had been sequestered together in the croft, she had shared with him how her father had kept her sheltered away from anyone that was a threat to his marriage plans for her, so he could only assume that these men were not. The warriors and Marra laughed together as they reminisced about all of the times they had gotten into trouble with her faither when they were children.
Duncan moved to join them by the fire. The one named Liam nodded his head in Duncan’s direction. “Were I ye, Campbell, I would be leavin’ for France. When Angus gets ahold o’ ye for temptin’ his daughter tae disobey him, ye’ll wish that ye had.”
Duncan shook his head. “I dinnae run.”
“Yer a brave man, Campbell, I’ll give ye that,” Robert stated, “but the MacDonald will no’ let this go unpunished, and there is nae way that he will e’er let ye anywhere near Marra again.”
That night Duncan and Marra slept apart from one another, as she lay guarded between the two MacDonald warriors. She lay but a short distance from him, and yet, after the time they had spent in each other’s arms, she felt so far away. In the brief time that they had been together in the croft, he had grown accustomed to having her near. The thought of having to return her to her father and never see her again was unfathomable. Curling up inside of his tartan, he leaned back against the stone wall of the outcropping and drifted off to sleep.
In the morning, the four of them set out for the MacGregor stronghold. Marra sat in front of Duncan, despite Robert and Liam’s protests to the contrary. He had watched with pride as she stood her ground, insisting upon what she wanted. He loved the way her emerald eyes flashed when she was angry. She had such fire, and she was going to need it to get through what was to come.
When they arrived at the castle, Duncan had expected to find Angus MacDonald waiting there for his daughter’s return, but found that the laird had taken his men and returned back to Jura. He dismounted and lifted Marra from the back of his pony setting her upon the ground. He led her into the castle where they were met by the MacGregor laird. “’Tis good tae see ye home safe, my son.”
“’Tis good tae be home, Faither. There is someone I would like ye tae meet. This is Marra MacDonald, daughter o’ the laird Angus MacDonald.”
“’Tis a pleasure tae meet ye, Laird Campbell,” Marra stated smiling.
“My Lady,” Fergus MacGregor greeted, gallantly bowing over her hand. “The pleasure is all mine, lass. It does these auld eyes good tae see such a bonnie face.”
Marra blushed, smiling with delight at the laird’s charming manners. “I wish tae thank ye for welcomin’ me and my clansmen in tae yer home. ‘Tis most gracious o’ ye tae overlook the bad blood between ye and my faither in this way.”
“Nae at all, lass. Ye are innocent o’ yer faither’s deeds. Ye are most welcome tae remain here for as long as ye need. The sins o’ the faither should no’ rest on his daughter.”
“We will be returnin’ tae MacDonald lands upon the morn,” Robert MacDonald stated, coming forward to stand protectively beside Marra.
Marra cast Robert a scathing look for his rude behavior, then turned back to Duncan’s father. “I thank ye, my laird, but I dinnae believe my faither would be pleased were I tae delay my return. I fear I must face the consequences o’ my actions. He will be less than pleased that I chose tae defy him and meet with yer son in secret.”
“’Tis no’ yer fault that ye were taken, lass. ‘Tis no’ yer fault that ye fell for the charms o’ my son either.” The laird grinned mischievously at his last statement then sobered. “Did they harm ye, lass?”
“A head wound, but that is all,” she admitted gesturing towards her skull still bandaged by the torn strip of Duncan’s shirt.
Turning to one of his men he ordered, “Summon the healer immediately.”
“I dinnae wish tae be any trouble, my laird,” Marra protested.
“Ye are nae trouble at all, lass. Duncan please show our guest tae her room.”
“Aye, Faither,” Duncan agreed leading Marra upstairs to one of the castle’s tower rooms. Opening the door, he caught her smile of delight as she entered.
“’Tis beautiful,” she breathed, looking at all of the lovely feminine items in the room.
“’Twas my maither’s afore she died. She loved beautiful things.” Duncan had spent many hours in this very room growing up. As he stood there he could conjure the memory of her face, smile, voice, touch… It was all that he had left of her. He had never let another person stay in her room before now, but Marra was different. Seeing her among his mother’s things brought him great joy.
“Rest. I will have a bath brought up tae ye.” Duncan left the room and found both of the MacDonald warriors standing outside of her door.
“She is safe here with us, lads. Ye dinnae need tae fash o’er her while she is here.”
“We will nae be leavin’ her side until she has been returned tae her faither. We are sworn tae protect her and that is what we will do,” Robert MacDonald stated, his eyes boring into Duncan’s as if to show that he would not tolerate any argument on the subject.
“As ye wish. I will have some food brought up for ye.” Both men nodded their approval and Duncan went back down to the kitchen to relay his guests’ needs. Once he was done, he rejoined his father in the great hall.
“Duncan, my son, I cannae tell ye how happy I am tae have ye back unharmed.” The MacGregor laird embraced his son. When he started coughing he pulled away and sat back down in the chair beside the fireplace. “What happened, son? How did ye manage tae get involved with a MacDonald lass? ‘Tis no’ my first choice o’ a bride for ye given who her faither is, but I see the way ye look at one another.”
“I met Marra at the gatherin’. From the moment I saw her, Faither, I kenned she was the lass for me, just as ye did with Maither,” Duncan explained, begging his father to understand with his eyes.
His father nodded and smiled at the memory of his dearly departed wife. “I could tell from the moment I saw ye with her. Ye both have the same look that yer maither and I had.”
Duncan smiled at his father’s words of acceptance. He had been concerned that his father would reject her for her parentage. It was a great relief that he did not. “We arranged tae meet at the gatherin’ grounds the next day, but when I arrived she was no’ there.”
“The day ye went huntin’ and did nae return with any game.”
“Aye. She arrived afore I did, but was taken while she was waitin’ for me. She does no’ ken who it was that took her, but she says the man claimed that he had taken her as a way tae become a laird.”
“How would takin’ the lass do that? Do ye think it was one o’ her own clansmen?”
“I dinnae ken. I had the same thoughts, but she said she did nae recognize the voice as one o’ her own, and we both ken that Angus MacDonald would no’ give up his lairdship e’en for his daughter.”
“Nae, he would no’,” his father agreed.
“The only thing that takin’ Marra accomplished was tae nearly cause a war between our two clans. The man told her that he did no’ plan tae become the MacDonald laird, but I cannae think o’ any other clan that takin’ her would hurt. She is no’ yet promised tae wed.”
“I dinnae ken.” His father shook his head in confusion. “I dinnae think it is wise for ye tae go with her to Jura. I am no’ certain that Angus will let ye leave unharmed. Ye did no’ take her, but she was there waiting for ye, and he is no’ likely tae forget or forgive such a thing.”
“I gave my word that
I would deliver her tae her faither safe. I cannae do otherwise nae matter the threat.”
“I kenned that ye would. I have raised a man o’ honor, and I cannae help but be proud o’ ye for it e’en if it puts ye in danger.” His father coughed again this time harder than the one before.
“Ye dinnae sound or look well, Faither.”
“Dinnae fash. All will be well in time, my son,” his father waved away his concern. “Go and rest.”
Duncan nodded. “I will leave with Marra upon the morrow.”
“Do what e’er it takes tae return home tae me safe, my son. If Angus MacDonald harms a hair on yer head I will come down on him as a storm o’ death.”
“I will return, Faither.” I hope.
Chapter Nine
Marra awoke to morning light streaming through the window feeling more refreshed than she had in days. She lay in the room that had once belonged to Duncan’s mother and wondered what kind of a woman she had been to have raised such a wonderful man. A painting of the Lady Campbell and a little boy who she assumed was Duncan hung above the fireplace. Their matching blue eyes stared out at her from the canvas. He looks like his maither. Marra smiled at the pair of them. They make a bonnie family. The way her father had talked about Fergus Campbell you would have thought that the entire family had horns. They are no’ the monsters that Faither claimed them tae be.
Hearing people in the hall, Marra sighed and sat up. She was not ready to go home, but she knew she had no other choice. Standing up, she pulled on her clothing, ran a comb through her hair, and opened the door to find Robert and Liam awaiting her. The three of them moved down the stairs to the great hall where they found Duncan awake and ready to see them on their way. His father stood up upon their approach and took Marra’s hands between his own.
“Ye are welcome tae return at any time ye wish, lass.”
“I thank ye, my laird.”
“No’ at all, lass. ‘Tis my hope that ye will be joinin’ our family someday,” he winked at his son, and Marra blushed, happy at his words of acceptance.
“What o’ my faither?”
“He will no’ be pleased, but he loves ye, lass. Given time, mayhap he will come tae think differently, but our feud is an auld one. ‘Twill no’ be an easy road ye have chosen for yerselves, ye and my son, but I had love with Duncan’s maither, and I wish the same for my son.”
“Ye are a rare man, my laird. I have ne’er heard such romantic musings from a man o’ yer station. I must admit ye are no’ what I expected.”
“Pleasantly surprised I hope?”
Marra smiled. “Verra much so, my laird. I see why Duncan’s maither chose tae wed ye.”
“Ye had better watch yerself, laddie. Yer auld faither might steal yer lass away,” Fergus chuckled.
Duncan laughed. “’Tis the family charm, Faither.”
Marra grinned, kissed the laird’s cheek, and followed her father’s men from the room. As she departed, she saw the laird embrace his son. “Return tae me safe, Duncan, nae matter what it takes.”
“Aye, Faither. Dinnae fash. Rest. I will return tae ye as soon as I am able.”
“Take Lachlan with ye,” his father suggested.
“I dinnae ken where he is. I have no’ seen him since my return. He is probably with Auntie.”
“Aye, my sister and her bairns have gone tae visit her husband’s family, but they should be returnin’ any time now. I did no’ ken that Lachlan had gone with them, but I am glad o’ it. He was in such a foul temper after the gatherin’.”
“Aye, he was no’ happy about comin’ in second at the tournament,” Duncan chuckled.
Marra exited the door, and their conversation faded from her hearing. She envied Duncan his family ties. She loved her father, but their relationship was one of distance and control, more than open affection. Part of her wondered if it was because Duncan had had his mother longer than she had or if it was the love that his parents had shared for one another. She had lost her mother in childbirth at such a young age she did not remember hardly a thing about her or the life she and her father had shared. Mayhap if Maither had lived longer things would have been better? She was not sure, but she somehow doubted that her father would have been much different even with a mature feminine influence.
Duncan joined her in the courtyard, and they mounted, heading for the place where Marra had left her boat. The four of them climbed aboard the small craft and rowed across to the Isle of Jura. Marra climbed out of the boat and stepped onto her home soil. She could not help but feel equal parts relief and disappointment. She felt relief that she was safe from her captors, but disappointment that her briefly found freedom had come to an end. After what had happened, her father would never let her out from under guard again. She inhaled her last breath of freedom and nearly choked.
“What is that smell?”
Duncan, Robert, and Liam all looked up from beaching the boat to where she stood, then glanced above her head to the sky. “Smoke!” Robert and Liam took off running toward the castle. Marra attempted to follow them, but was unable to keep up with them, and they swiftly disappeared from sight. The smoke billowed black and rolling overhead. Marra’s heart filled with terror as she gasped for air. She ran until she thought her heart would burst. When she stumbled over an upraised root, Duncan was there by her side to catch her before she fell.
“Slow down, lass.”
“I cannae. I must get tae my faither.” She pushed past him and kept going.
When she arrived at the castle, she found it in smoldering ruins, the charred bodies of her fallen clansmen and women scattered across the ground. She found her father at the center of a group of fallen warriors as though they had fought and died back to back. “Nae!” she screamed, falling to her knees in a crumpled mass of sobs. He was the only family she had left, and now he was gone.
“They were caught unawares. It appears that many o’ them died in their sleep,” Robert growled, clenching his sword in his hand as if he could will himself back in time to the battle.
“The laird died in his nightshirt,” Liam noted in dazed disgust. “What kind o’ a man kills another man in his nightshirt?”
“One without honor,” Duncan noted, taking Marra into his arms. “Are there any survivors?”
“I dinnae see any signs that there are,” Robert shook his head raking his hands through his long blonde hair now streaked with soot. “I looked all through the rubble. There are tae many dead tae tell. It appears that most o’ them died in the fire. The laird must have found a way out tae fight only tae die.”
Marra rocked back and forth, moaning and sobbing. She clutched her chest in pain unable to catch her breath. She had wished for freedom, but had never dreamt that she would be granted it in such a fashion. She felt guilty for having wished to be apart from her family. As she knelt there, staring into the charred features of her father’s face, she found herself wishing she had died with him. The smell of cooked human flesh filled her nostrils, causing her to empty the contents of her stomach onto the ground at Duncan’s feet. He did not even flinch, but continued to hold her, moving her hair back from her face. When she finished vomiting, he picked her up and carried her away from the horrific scene. She fought him at first, unable to bear the thought of her father being left lying upon the ground alone, and then she realized the foolishness of it. He was dead and had been lying there without her for some time. Her presence would not make any difference to him at this point, but she could not shake the feeling that she had abandoned him somehow.
“Who would have done this?” she asked, looking up into his eyes, searching for answers.
“I dinnae ken,” Duncan answered, shaking his head.
“The Clan Campbell would do such a thing,” Liam answered angrily, eying Duncan threateningly.
“I cannae speak for other families within the clan, but this was nae my family’s doin’. My faither would ne’er do such a thing.” Duncan stood ready to face his accuser.
; “The Clan Campbell are our mortal enemies,” Robert remarked, moving to flank Duncan’s other side, sword in hand.
“We did nae do this,” Duncan answered, backing away slowly.
Marra looked from man to man unsure what to say or do. “Duncan did no’ have anythin’ tae do with this. He was with me. He saved me.”
“It was a distraction tae cover his faither’s plan. Fergus Campbell and Angus MacDonald have hated each other for years. ‘Twas a matter o’ time afore one o’ them finally attacked the other,” Liam moved forward a step.
“’Tis no’ possible. Our people are allies in the Jacobite cause. Nae matter how much they disliked one another, my faither would ne’er jeopardize the cause. He would no’ attack a man in his bed or slaughter innocent women and bairns. There is nae honor in such an attack.”
