by Amy Tolnitch
“I am sorry to upset you.”
She flinched and a hard look came over her face.
Piers gently pulled on her arm. “Please sit. Allow me to explain.”
Saraid looked past him at Gifford. Piers glanced back and saw the stricken look on his uncle’s face.
“Please,” Piers said again.
She sighed and it was as if all the air, all the life in her whooshed out, leaving her deflated and malleable. Piers guided her into her seat. Gifford quickly sat down, but held himself apart, his arms crossed.
“I met the Earl of Sturbridge when I oversaw the delivery of some horses to his stables. A man known for his fine treatment of his steeds, but not so with his people.”
Saraid slowly lifted her gaze.
“I heard him berating you, my lady. I saw him strike you.”
“Whoreson,” Lugh shouted, banging a fist on the table. “Who is this cur?”
“An apt description, Laird,” Saraid said, her features rigid. “I shall never return there.”
Piers put a hand on her shoulder. “I am sorry that I did not intercede on your behalf.”
Saraid’s lips thinned. “He had scores of fighting men at his disposal. You would have been slain within moments of confronting him.”
“Aye. I sensed as much.”
Iosobal frowned. “Do not worry. No one can force you to leave Parraba, no matter how many men marshaled for the task.”
“This man—” Gifford began.
“My husband,” Saraid answered, her eyes tearing.
“You … you are married?” Gifford looked as if he’d been slapped.
“No,” Piers said. “Widowed.” He smiled at them both.
Saraid gazed up at him, her mouth open, her eyes wide. “What?” she whispered. Piers nodded, his smile widening. “Aye. His nephew took over the castle three years ago. A much different type of man, I have heard.”
“I … yes, I remember him.” She slumped back into her chair, shaking her head. “I cannot believe it. All this time …”
“You feared him finding you,” Gifford said.
“Yes.” Saraid shivered. “Oh, yes.”
Gifford reached over and took her hand, his expression wistful. “It seems you are free now.”
She beamed a smile at him, and Piers was struck by the huge difference between this woman and the one he’d remembered. He recalled more than he’d told the lady. The callous brutality of the Earl of Sturbridge had been remarkable. Everyone in the castle had cowed before him, but Saraid took the brunt of his displeasure the time Piers had been there. From her demeanor, it had been clear that that day was far from the first her husband had beaten her. No wonder the lady fled, he thought with admiration.
She put her hand on his arm. “Thank you, my lord. You cannot imagine what glad tidings you bring me.”
“Just take good care of my uncle there,” Piers responded with a wink.
Saraid flushed and Gifford chuckled. “Wise advice, my boy.”
Iosobal retook her seat and Piers did as well. He raised his cup. “To freedom and happiness.”
“Well, at least I do not have to seek the man out to kill him,” Lugh commented.
Piers laughed at the expression of shock on Iosobal’s face.
“You … you would do that?” she asked.
Lugh’s mouth curved into a smile. “We Highlanders treasure our women.”
For a long moment, Lady Iosobal simply stared at him. Then, she stood once more.
“Where are you running off to?” Lugh asked her.
The lady’s lips tightened, but she did not answer. Instead, she came over to Ailie’s seat.
Ailie quickly reached up and grabbed Iosobal’s hand. Iosobal blinked, but did not yank free, as Piers half expected her to. “Donna go just yet, my lady. ’Tis early. Mayhap Branor will play for us again.”
“Gladly,” Branor said.
Ailie’s eyes twinkled. “You should dance with Father. He is a superb dancer.”
“Aye, that I am,” Lugh added. “’Tis all that sword training,” he added with a wink. “Stay with us,” he continued in a low tone.
“I must go,” Iosobal said, gently pulling her hand free. “I have things to see to.” She turned and left before Ailie could mount another protest.
The child looked up at Lugh. “Why is she afraid?”
Lugh shrugged. “The lady is used to being on her own, sweet. ’Tis no doubt a new experience for her to be surrounded by so many people.”
Ailie chewed her lip. “I think she likes you, Father,” she said in a loud whisper.
Piers’s amused gaze met Lugh’s over the child’s head.
“Why do you say so?” he asked her.
“She looks at you. When she thinks no one notices.”
“Ah, I see.”
“You like her too, don’t you?”
Lugh pulled his daughter close, nestling her head under his chin and wrapping his arms around her. “Aye.”
“I will miss Lady Iosobal when we leave here.”
Lugh’s gaze turned somber. “We belong at Tunvegan.”
Ailie wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps she could come with us.”
“Why would she wish to do that?”
“I told you,” Ailie whispered. “She likes you.”
“She seems happy on her island.”
“I am not so sure. I think she is lonely. We could make her happy at Tunvegan. I would even share my chamber with her.”
Lugh looked at Piers as if to ask for aid, but Piers shrugged, failing to conceal a grin.
“I cannot imagine Lady Iosobal at Tunvegan, my heart.”
“Why? Do you think our people would not accept her?”
“I am no sure. Look at the villagers here. Some people are fearful and distrustful of someone they do not understand, someone who is different.”
“But not you.”
Piers saw the hesitation on Lugh’s face. At least the man saw beyond his lust to think of the realities of his situation, Piers thought with relief.
“Of course not. I am Laird of Tunvegan.”
“Mmm.” Ailie snuggled into his chest.
WELL, THIS IS WHAT I GET FOR EAVESDROPPING, IOSOBAL told herself. She felt like a fool. Poor Ailie was so sweet that she did not understand the gulf that separated Iosobal from The MacKeir. A sharp ache pressed against her chest, and for an instant of weakness, hurt spiraled through her at The MacKeir’s casual words.
I cannot imagine Lady Iosobal at Tunvegan.
His hesitation before answering Ailie’s last question had confirmed it.
As she walked toward her chamber, she shook her head in self-disgust. She’d been right all along. The realization did not bring her any satisfaction.
She thought back to the day her mother had gifted her with the moonstone necklace. With this, you shall never be beguiled as I was, her mother had told her. Never give your heart to a man, only to watch him sail away.
After all, Iosobal reminded herself, Lugh MacKeir had never professed any feeling for her other than a “care for her welfare.” He desired her, and while that was a new and flattering experience, it was not enough.
A few days, Iosobal, she told herself. They will all be gone in a few days.
She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, telling herself that she would feel naught but relief when she bid them farewell.
But as she sat at her window and watched the sun drift lower in the sky, she could not quite manage to quell the small kernel of doubt and hurt the prospect created.
Chapter
XIII
I am really beginning to detest this cave,” Lugh said as a shower of rubble shifted into yet another pile to be removed.
Branor looked over at him, his face streaked with sweat and dirt. “I have already arrived to such a point.”
Piers lifted a rock and carried it to the side. “’Tis like the damned rocks themselves conspire against us.” He stopped and tipped ale from a skin into
his mouth. “But still, we make progress.”
“Aye.” Lugh surveyed the scene with a critical eye. Piers was right. Fully half of the cave entrance was now visible. Unfortunately, the rocks on the bottom were some of the larger ones. If not for Piers’s idea to use the branches, they would be in a sorry state indeed.
As it was, they had all been hard at it for hours and Lugh was heartily sick of the task. He stripped off his tunic, and took the skin from Piers, tipping cool ale down his throat.
“I have been thinking,” Piers commented. “This cave must be very important to the Lady Iosobal. Very important.”
Lugh exchanged a glance with Branor, but Branor’s face showed no reaction. “Clearly.”
“’Tis obvious that she does not enjoy our presence, with the exception of Ailie, of course. One would have to be fashioned of stone not to find the child endearing.”
Lugh grunted and drank more ale. “Methinks that is a good description of Lady Iosobal.”
Piers grinned. “Not having much success with the lady?”
“Nay.” Lugh shrugged, feigning an indifference he did not feel. “’Tis of little matter. Iosobal is a beautiful women, but—”
“Not exactly your typical lass,” Piers finished.
Branor joined them, removing his own tunic, now damp with sweat. “I swear, I am even beginning to miss the foul weather of the Highlands.”
“Our weather is not foul,” Lugh told him. “It makes a man strong.”
“That is not what you say when days of cold snow keep you trapped in the castle.”
“I find enough to keep me occupied,” Lugh retorted.
Branor smiled and nudged Piers. “Ah yes, last winter it was Catriona, was it not?”
Lugh took a skin of water and dumped it over his head. “A verra skilled lass is our Catriona,” he said with a smile, remembering the woman’s soft body and full mouth. He cocked a brow at Piers. “Perhaps when we finish our task here and return to Tunvegan, you could direct the construction of a bathhouse like the one at Falcon’s Craig.”
“Need to oust Lachlann first,” Branor said with a frown.
“A simple task,” Lugh said with a wave of his hand. “The man’s greed outstrips his intelligence.”
“Aye, but he has Maura for that,” Branor responded.
“If you need men, I shall bring a party from Falcon’s Craig,” Piers offered.
Lugh eyed him and nodded. “I may. I pray my men survive, but the dungeons are no a comfortable place to remain.” He fisted his hands. “If I had been there, the whoreson would not have had a chance. His head would be residing on a pike in the bailey next to his whore’s.”
“Einar should have been smart enough to see Lachlann’s plotting,” Branor said. “And if you had not brought Ailie here …”
He did not need to finish. Lugh knew well what would have happened. He sucked in a breath, and pushed the guilt away. He had done what he needed to for his child. And one day soon, he would do what he needed to for his people, commencing with the death of Lachlann.
“By the saints,” Branor exclaimed. “Look at that.”
Lugh looked where Branor pointed and felt his jaw drop. Dark gray clouds lined the horizon, and the rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. A cool blast of air wrapped around his bared chest. “What is this?”
“A storm moving in, and by the looks of it, quickly,” Piers answered. “Did you do something to make Iosobal angry?”
“Donna be ridiculous. It is just a storm,” Lugh said as the first raindrops fell down on them. The sky darkened quickly, and within minutes, sheets of rain fell in cool torrent. Lugh pulled his tunic back on, wondering about Piers’s question. Was it possible?
“Perhaps we should return to the palace,” Branor shouted over the wind.
“Aye.” They gathered their tools and began walking quickly down the path to the palace. With each step, Lugh’s sense of foreboding grew. Had he said something to offend Iosobal? He’d not even seen her this morn.
He glanced up at the dark clouds scuttling across the sky. It was just a storm. Out here by the sea, the weather often changed quickly, he told himself. It had nothing to do with Iosobal.
AILIE SAT HUDDLED BENEATH A TREE, ARTEMIS PRESSED tight against her. She shivered as water ran off her nose. The dog whined and put her head on Ailie’s shoulder. “Surely, it will be over soon,” Ailie told her.
She gazed out from beneath her leafy canopy. Cool rain fell in such thick sheets she could barely see beyond her shelter. Shadows seemed to move, and thunder crashed overhead. She wanted to try to get back to the palace, but feared she wouldn’t be able to see the way.
Artemis’s ears pricked up, and she barked.
“It is just a storm, girl,” Ailie told her. She held tight to the dog, trying to tell herself not to be scared. Wind whipped through the trees, sending a fresh wash of water over her. “Stay with me,” she whispered.
Artemis settled with a soft whimper and leaned against Ailie once more.
“Father shall be very upset with me,” Ailie told her, stroking the dog’s damp fur. “But I did not see the storm coming.”
She coughed, and pressed her cheek against Artemis’s head as a shiver racked down her body. Blinking back tears, she gazed out at the rain, wishing it would stop so that she could run back to the palace and have one of Lady Iosobal’s honey drinks in the steam room.
So cold. She coughed again and wiped her nose on her sleeve, pressing closer against the wet, warm dog. “Father, please come and get me,” she said. “Please come soon.”
BY THE TIME LUGH, PIERS, AND BRANOR REACHED THE palace, they were soaked by the intensifying storm, the skies overhead nearly dark. Lugh burst into the great hall, startling Hemming who dropped an unlit candle on the floor, where it rolled to Lugh’s feet.
“Where is Ailie?” Lugh asked.
Hemming picked up the candle and lit it from another. “I am not sure.” As he gathered more candles from a cupboard, Lady Iosobal entered. “Do you—?” she began, then broke off and frowned.
“Do you know where Ailie is?” Lugh asked her.
Iosobal glanced out an open window, where rain blew in, making a puddle on the floor. “She took Artemis down to the shore.”
The blood in Lugh’s veins turned to ice. “She is out in the storm?” he bellowed.
“Aye.”
Lugh heard Piers mutter a curse as Hemming rushed out of the hall.
“We’d best go look for her right away,” Branor said, his voice gruff.
“Make it stop,” Lugh said to Iosobal. “Now.”
She froze and stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“The storm, damn you.”
“But I—” Lugh studied her closely as emotions flitted across her face. Denial. Puzzlement. Guilt? He couldn’t be sure of the last.
“Are not responsible?” He cracked a bitter laugh. “Every day on this island is warm and sunny except for the day we arrived and now today.”
“You are mistaken,” she said, withdrawing into her Queen Iosobal look. “I suggest you stop wasting time making accusations and find your daughter.”
He gave her a hard look. “I donna ken how you do it or why. Ailie is out there in the cold rain, no doubt frightened out of her wits. If this worsens her condition …” He couldn’t finish. Anger coursed through him with such blazing intensity that he knew he was a hairsbreadth away from lashing out at the woman who stood so calmly before him, denying what he knew in his gut to be true.
“Bring her to me when you find her,” Iosobal said softly.
“Iosobal.” Lugh gritted his teeth and stared out at the storm.
Hemming returned and gave Lugh a bundle wrapped in a heavy wool mantle. “Stop badgering Lady Iosobal and find Ailie,” he said.
Lugh glanced down. “Thank you, Hemming.” He glared at Iosobal. Her serene expression infuriated him more than anything. “I shall find my child. You do whatever you must to stop this.”
Piers cursed again, this time loud enough that Lugh heard the words, “Damn witch.”
Hemming opened his mouth to speak, but Lugh raised a hand. “Do not say a word in her defense. Not now.”
“Let’s go, Lugh,” Branor said.
Lugh followed Branor and Piers back out into the storm. Lugh gazed overhead, hoping to see the skies lightening. Nothing but dark, roiling clouds filled the sky. “Damn her,” he shouted. Dear God, the thought of Ailie out there somewhere, cold, wet and alone terrified him. And it was all because of one person. He trudged down the path toward the shore, so furious that he scarcely felt the rain.
Once they reached the sand, it took only a moment to verify that Ailie wasn’t there. “She must have sought shelter,” Lugh called over the wind.
Branor nodded, his expression grim.
The three men climbed the slope and fanned out in the trees.
“Ailie!” Lugh yelled, his word echoed by Piers and Branor. “Artemis!” Maybe if the damn dog heard him first, she could lead him to Ailie, he thought. “Ailie!”
He could barely see a thing. Along with the rain, fog had rolled in from the sea, blanketing everything in a white mist. Damn you, Iosobal, he silently cursed. He had never hurt a woman in his life, had never even contemplated that he ever could, but at this moment he could clearly envision his hand wrapped around the witch’s throat.
Just find Ailie, he told himself. Deal with the rest later. Find Ailie.
IOSOBAL CARRIED A BRACE OF CANDLES INTO HER chambers. She set the candles down on a small table and went to the window. In the distance she saw a slight lightening of the sky. Poor Ailie, she thought. This would not be good for her.
“It has nothing to do with me,” she said aloud. The look in The MacKeir’s eyes had been chilling in its accusation. She gave a wry laugh. Even when people did not know of the true existence of magic, they tended to blame their ills on the like. How easy it was for The MacKeir to assume she was behind the storm.
