by Amy Tolnitch
Still, the feeling of apprehension remained, and without bothering to find a tunic, Lugh strode from the chambers, intent on finding his daughter. He stopped in the kitchen, but found only Niamh making bread. When questioned, she claimed not to have seen Ailie yet.
He covered the gardens next, but they were empty and quiet. After banging on the door to Lady Iosobal’s strange healing chamber, he finally made his way to the lady’s private chambers. A new door securely closed the rooms from view.
He tapped on the door.
When it immediately swung open, he blinked at the sight of Lady Iosobal. Her face, her stance shouted bone-deep weariness, and dark circles ringed her tired gaze. “Is Ailie here?”
She nodded and stepped back. “She is resting now,” she said softly as she walked toward the open window. After sinking down onto the window seat, she tucked her legs up under her and leaned back against the wall. She pointed through an open doorway. “Ailie is in there.”
Lugh peered into the dim chamber, and made out Ailie’s small body lying under a pale cover, one hand clutching her precious quilt. The dog snuggled close against her, softly snoring. He walked over and put his hand on Ailie’s chest, waiting for the rise and fall of her breathing. She slept deeply, her chest barely moving. For a moment, he closed his eyes in relief.
When he returned to the outer chamber, Iosobal’s eyes had drifted closed. He sat beside her and they flashed open. “What happened?” he asked.
“She was not doing well. I roused Hemming and we brought her here.”
Lugh narrowed his gaze. “How did you know? I dinna hear anything.”
Iosobal shrugged and gazed out the window. “I felt it.” She rubbed her temples. “I have become closer to the child. I sensed her pain.”
Something in her voice sent a rush of intense fear into his heart. “Ailie is”—he collected himself—“is …”
“At the edge of her time,” Iosobal said, her gaze dark with concern.
“Nay! You must do more!”
She just stared at him.
“Why do you not simply wave a hand and heal her? Use whatever powers you have to work a cure?”
“I cannot,” Iosobal finally said in a flat tone. “Her life is in the balance.”
Everything in Lugh swelled to cry out against the truth of her words. He grabbed Iosobal’s shoulders and shook her. “Donna say that. I cannot lose my child.” His voice came out a raw rasp, but he cared not. By the saints, he would not lose Ailie. He could not. She was everything to him, all that truly mattered.
Iosobal gazed at him wide-eyed, her hair a black tumble around her face.
“She is my heart,” he whispered. “I cannot let her go.”
To his shock, Iosobal reached out a hand and touched his cheek. When she did, he realized it was damp with tears. He didn’t move to wipe them away. He was not ashamed for her to see just how much his precious child meant to him, a tiny girl who had brought a proud warrior to his knees in supplication.
“I am doing everything I can, Lugh.”
It was the first time she’d used his given name. It made him realize just how dire Ailie’s condition was, and just how hard Iosobal was laboring to change that.
He slid his hands down her arms and took her hands in his. “I know, and I am thankful to you, Iosobal.”
As the sun broke across the sky in streaks of gold and pink, they gazed into each other’s eyes. It struck Lugh that Iosobal had changed since their arrival. She no longer flinched at his touch, innocent as it was. And he could see the strain of caring for Ailie in her face, feel in the softness of her hand’s grip on his.
With the realization came another. Somewhere between the legends and the lady’s patent confidence, he’d had no doubt she would save his child. Now, he saw his error. Iosobal was not invincible after all. “What can I do?”
“Pray,” she answered. “Pray for Ailie and pray for me to find the way to heal her.”
AFTER LUGH LEFT, IOSOBAL STRETCHED OUT ON THE window seat and closed her eyes. The early morning breeze brought the fresh scent of flowers through the window, and streamers of sun warned her skin.
When had she begun thinking of The MacKeir as Lugh? When had she begun allowing him to touch her without pulling away?
For twenty-five years, she had lived without the touch of another person save her mother. For twenty-five years, she had loved life on her quiet island, content to roam, swim with the dolphins, and ride her horses across the sand, needing no other company.
Like a steady, relentless wave, Lugh MacKeir had changed that.
She could see the smooth planes of his massive chest in the dawn sunlight; feel the strength of him grasping her. He’d not hidden from her, but let her see the power of his emotions, the depths of his care for Ailie.
Despite the legacy of abandonment handed down to her by one Lady of Parraba after another, somewhere along the way, bit by tiny bit, she’d slowly begun to feel something she’d sworn she was above experiencing. For the first time in her life, Iosobal felt desire.
And damn Lugh MacKeir’s perceptive gaze, he knew it too.
Anxiety clasped her in its fierce fist and she opened her eyes. She held her hands out, palms up and focused her every thought on the sleeping child nearby. “Heal,” she said. “Let the sickness be gone from her. Let her be as she once was.”
A tingle of warmth rippled down her arms and into her fingertips. “Heal this child.” Surely, this time it would work, she thought. She drew her hands into fists and closed her eyes, sending a wave of healing power toward Ailie.
Only to hear the child cough, a long wracking cough that brought Iosobal to her feet. She hastened to the chamber, and found Ailie sitting up, bent over and clutching her chest.
Iosobal quickly poured liquid from a jug near the bed, and added more ground leaves of her special plant. She wrapped Ailie’s fingers around the cup. “Drink this, sweeting.”
The child gazed up at her, her eyes clouded with pain. She took a sip, and then another until the cup was gone. “Thank you, Princess Iosobal,” she whispered.
Iosobal smoothed the hair from her forehead and forced a reassuring smile to her lips. “Rest now.”
“I am so weary,” Ailie said slowly as she eased back down into bed.
“The coughing strips you of your strength.”
“’Tis very warm.”
When Iosobal touched the child’s forehead, her skin did feel warm, but not terribly so. She stripped off the cover and pulled the shutters on the window partially open. “It is always warm on Parraba.”
Ailie screwed her face up. “Do you not miss snow?”
“Snow?”
“Aye. I love the first snow. It makes the world look so clean and white. Sometimes, I try to catch the cold snowflakes on my tongue.”
Iosobal smiled. “And do you succeed?”
“Not most of the time. Have you ever seen a snowfall, Lady Iosobal?”
“No.”
Ailie sighed. “It is beautiful.”
“Well then, perhaps one day I shall.”
“Mayhap when you come to Tunvegan.”
Iosobal’s breath caught. Go to The MacKeir’s castle? Why would she ever do that? In her mind, she saw the faces of the villagers from long ago. Angry and fearful, as they condemned her for her aid. Still, she did not have the heart to tell Ailie she would never leave her island.
“Did you put magic in my drink?” Ailie asked as her eyes began to drift closed.
“All I know,” Iosobal told her. “All I know.”
Ailie fell asleep with a smile on her lips.
“WE NEED A STOUT BRANCH,” PIERS ADVISED.
He, Lugh, and Branor stood surveying what still remained a formidable pile of rocks in front of Lady Iosobal’s cave. Lugh cocked a brow. “You wish to beat upon the rocks?”
Piers laughed. “Nay. To use as a lever under the rocks. I designed something like that once at Falcon’s Craig to aid in constructing our bathhouse.”
“Ah.” Lugh had fond memories of that bathhouse. It was there he finally claimed his beloved Agatha. But when he thought of that time, instead the image of Agatha kept blurring into one of Lady Iosobal within her steam room. He pushed the picture away, appalled with himself for allowing his wife’s face to fade.
Piers pointed above them where the stand of trees began. “Have you an ax?”
Branor pulled one from a canvas bag at his feet. “Aye.”
“What do you have in there?” Lugh asked.
“Whatever I thought we might need. I obtained some things from Hemming this morn. And from Niamh, of course,” he added with a grin.
“Let us proceed, then. I wish to see this task done,” Lugh said.
Branor led the way up the hillside. Within a short time span, they’d chopped off three sizable branches and dragged them back to the cave entrance.
Piers studied the pile, then pointed. “Start with that one. Shove the end of the branch underneath it.”
With a grunt, Lugh did so and then put his weight toward lowering the other end. Slowly, the rock shifted. Lugh bore down, his arms corded with the effort. Another shift, then the rock rolled away. He stood and smiled. “A fine idea, Piers.” Finally, he thought, and applied himself to another of the larger boulders.
Piers and Branor threw themselves into the effort as well. By the time they took a break hours later, the mound of stone was much smaller and Lugh could see the top of the cave opening.
He tugged a skin of ale from Branor’s sack and sat on what remained of the rocks before taking a drink. “Well done,” he said to Piers and Branor, who both joined him. After handing the skin over to Piers, he picked up a smaller rock and turned it in his hand. “By the saints, what is this?”
Branor leaned over to look, and then raised a serious gaze to Lugh. “That is not a natural mark.”
“Nay,” Lugh growled and leapt to his feet. He grabbed up the branch and began flinging rocks off the mound, anger fueling his actions. The ale forgotten, Branor and Piers joined him.
“Stop,” Piers shouted. “Look at this, Lugh.”
Lugh drew a deep breath and studied the boulder Piers pointed to. This one bore a long black mark from some kind of tool.
“A crowbar, perhaps,” Branor commented. “Or mayhap a chisel.”
“Aye.”
Branor scratched his chin. “Who would do this?”
Lugh scowled. “According to Lady Iosobal, no one on Parraba would dare to harm her.”
“Clearly, the lady is mistaken,” Piers said, eyeing him. “Did you not say the lady was within the cave at the time of the collapse?”
Lugh’s scowl deepened. “She was.”
“Then ’tis clear the lady has an enemy on the isle.”
“A coward,” Lugh snarled, furious at the idea that someone deliberately tried to bury Iosobal.
“What is so special about this cave?” Piers asked.
“The lady will not say,” Lugh admitted as he gazed toward the entrance. “She claims she lost a precious necklace when she fled the avalanche.”
Branor snorted. “And ordered us not to enter.”
“Hmm.” Piers turned the rock over. “’Tis possible whoever did this was not trying to harm Lady Iosobal, but merely to close the cave off.”
“I agree with Piers,” Branor said. “Look at how the animals react to it. There is something odd about this place.”
“Magical,” Piers agreed.
“Lugh and I visited the village. The people there are no too fond of Lady Iosobal. They claim she is a sorceress.”
“And this is her special cave,” Piers mused.
Lugh gritted his teeth. “I donna care why the whoreson did this. I will find him.”
Branor clapped him on the back. “We shall all find the man responsible.”
“And then?” Piers asked.
Lugh gazed at him with cold eyes. Before he thought, he said, “And then I shall kill him.”
Chapter
VIII
Lachlann sat in his solar sipping yet another glass of wine and contemplating his circumstance. He was alone for the moment, though he expected Maura soon. He slowly smiled. She was a beautiful snake, his Maura, but he knew well how to control her venom.
He gazed around the solar with satisfaction. At last, Tunvegan was his. Those loyal to Lugh who posed any threat were either dead or imprisoned. Though Einar somehow survived, he thought with a frown. He’d expected the man to die by now. Einar had suffered a serious wound, and Lachlann’s men made sure he stayed locked in the dungeon with little in the way of comforts. Still, the man persisted in living.
As he fingered the pommel of his sword, he considered going down to the dungeon to finish it. But Einar was one of the few men Lachlann had ever know who actually seemed to possess a sense of honor. He grimaced and sipped more wine. Fool, he chided himself. There is no such thing in the world.
The door creaked open and Maura sidled in. She had appropriated another of Agatha’s gowns, he noticed, although she’d clearly altered it to reveal more of her sweet breasts. He said nothing as she moved closer, the flames of a fire shifting light over her assessing face. Maura moved like a huntress, smooth and quiet, yet always poised to strike.
“My lord,” she murmured and knelt at his feet.
He enjoyed her position for a moment, then reached down and grabbed a handful of her thick, red hair. “Has Joseph returned?”
She slid her hands up his thighs. “Aye. Just now.”
Lachlann leaned back and refilled his cup. “And?”
“’Tis just as you suspected. Lugh’s kin set off in a boat to the west.”
“They seek the isle.”
“No doubt.”
“How did they know which direction to go?”
Maura licked her lips. “Joseph said he dinna ken.”
“Do you believe him?”
She shrugged and slid her hands higher. “Joseph would not dare to aid The MacKeir. He knows what will happen to Triona.”
“Hmm.”
“You do not trust him?”
Lachlann laughed. “I do not trust anyone.”
She gazed at him with wide green eyes. “Not even me?”
“Particularly not you, my sweet,” he said, bending close to her face.
Most women would back down at the look in his eyes, but not Maura. It was one of the things he liked about her.
“But you need me,” she cajoled. “I am the one who had the knowledge to drug those loyal to The MacKeir.” Her expression was smug.
“I enjoy the skill you most excel at,” he said coolly.
She stood and stripped off her clothes, gracefully stepping over the pile.
The firelight gleamed off her pale skin, highlighting the strands of gold in her long hair.
Lachlann set his cup aside and pulled off his tunic.
“We shall rule Tunvegan together,” she breathed as she stepped closer and smoothed off his undershirt.
He pulled her to him. “I rule Tunvegan. As long as you please me, you may remain in my bed.”
For a moment, anger flickered in her gaze, but then she smiled. Lachlann knew her, knew her mind even now whirled with plans of how to cement her position in the clan. It mattered not. He was finally laird, as he should have been years ago.
And he would make very sure that Lugh MacKeir never had the chance to take it from him again.
WELL INTO THE AFTERNOON, LUGH FINALLY CALLED A halt to their task. All three men were drenched in sweat, but they had cleared a good third of the entrance. “I am so hungry, I could gnaw on one of these blasted rocks,” Lugh proclaimed as he set down his branch.
Piers straightened and wiped sweat from his face. “I am for the sea.”
“Watch for the dolphins,” Branor advised.
“Dolphins?”
“Aye. We saw Lady Iosobal swimming with them one eve.”
Piers shook his head and muttered something under his breath. �
�I shall see you anon,” he said as he set off down the hillside.
Lugh began walking toward the palace and Branor fell into step beside him.
“Within a few days, we should have the cave cleared,” Branor said.
“Aye.” Lugh squinted up at the sun.
“Will you obey the lady’s wishes?”
Lugh glanced at him. “No. I want to know what is in that cave. Asides, perhaps I can find Lady Iosobal’s necklace.”
Branor looked amused. “I donna think the lady will be pleased.”
“The lady has too many secrets,” Lugh said as they entered the palace gates. When they entered the hall, he found Gifford sitting at a table with Ailie and Saraid.
“Father,” Ailie called out with a smile. “Uncle Gifford is teaching us how to play dice. I have already won five almonds.” She beamed with pride.
“The child has a natural talent,” Gifford commented as he threw the pair of dice. A large mound of almonds sat in front of him along with a jug.
Lugh stopped at the table and rocked back on his heels. “You are teaching my daughter gaming?”
Gifford shrugged and winked at Saraid. “I am forever surrounded by those of limited imagination.”
To Lugh’s surprise, Saraid smiled and reached for the dice. She also had a sizable collection of the nuts.
Lugh slid onto the bench next to his daughter. “How are you feeling?” he asked as he put his arm around her shoulder. She snuggled into his side. “Better.” Just then, Lugh’s stomach gave off a loud rumble, and Ailie giggled.
“Your toss, Ailie,” Gifford said. He stared at Saraid and lifted his brows. “Perhaps after we finish, you could accompany me for a walk on the beach before supper.”
“Branor,” Lugh called.
“Aye?”
“See if you can find something in the kitchen to tide us over until supper. I vow I could nibble on this sweet in my arms.”
“You canna eat me, Father,” Ailie said as she picked up the dice.
He kissed her cheek. “Mmm, but you are so verra sweet.”
As Branor headed off for provisions, Lugh glanced at the woman Saraid. She still had not answered Gifford’s question, but looked away as if she were lost in thought.
