by Mary Morgan
He groaned deeply.
Finally releasing her from the kiss, her eyes sparkled with desire. “Well, I do have to change, since I am now thoroughly wet.”
His smile of satisfaction turned predatory when she sauntered away.
Stephen got no further than a few steps when he heard shouting. Stepping over to the wall, he glanced at the rider approaching. Watching as they made their way to the portcullis, the rider halted and waited for them to raise the gate.
Tucking her arm through his, Aileen asked, “Who is it?”
He braced his hands on the cool stone, not believing what he saw. “God’s blood, can it be?” Grabbing her hands, Stephen placed a kiss on each. “Alastair has returned home.”
Running down the steps, his mind raced. Even in the early evening sky, he could make out his brother’s features, and he had someone in his arms.
Sweeping past Brigid, he yelled, “Where’s Duncan?”
“In the great hall with Alex. Why?”
“Our brother, Alastair, is here.”
“I’ll get Delia to prepare some food and drink,” she shouted back.
Crashing through the large oak doors, he caught the eye of his brother, Duncan. “It is Alastair.”
Duncan stood abruptly. “Great Goddess. Here?”
“Aye, and he brings another.” Without waiting, Stephen left to go greet his brother. His mind whirled with questions. Never did he fathom that he would see his little brother come walking through the doors of Urquhart so soon.
His heart soared until he saw him dismount. The man walking toward him was not the brother he recognized. No, the man staring back at him was of another who had seen many battles.
“Welcome home, Alastair.” His voice sounding gruff with emotion.
“Do ye have a healer?” demanded Alastair.
“Aye,” interjected Duncan. “Is it for the woman in your arms?”
“Send the healer to my chambers.”
Stephen and Duncan watched as their brother stepped past them with a large dog trotting after him. Each turned to the other and Stephen saw the look of worry in Duncan’s eyes. “Did ye see his face?”
“Lugh’s balls! What could have happened to him?” Duncan hissed, rubbing a hand over his face.
“He has the features of a warrior too long at battle,” answered Stephen, making his way to Alastair’s horse.
“One of the horses is injured,” said Tiernan, one of Duncan’s men.
Duncan placed a hand on his shoulder. “See what can be done. Have Finn help ye.”
Muttering softly, Tiernan led the horses away.
“Wait,” said Stephen, frowning. Lifting the flap on the side of the horse, he let out a curse. “It would seem as if he has found his relic.”
“But not cleansed,” replied Duncan, running his hand over the top. “There is no energy within.”
“We cannae interfere, Duncan. He must find his own path.”
“Ye tell me truths I already ken, Brother.” Nodding to Tiernan to lead the horses away, Duncan rubbed at the back of his neck in obvious frustration.
“Well, where is he?” Brigid asked with Aileen following behind her.
“In his chambers,” answered Stephen. “He requires a healer for the woman he has with him.”
Aileen went into his arms. “I would like to help.”
Stephen tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. “Let us see what Matilda can do for her, first. I fear Alastair will not take kindly to your Fae assistance.” He saw her confusion and placed a kiss on her brow. “His journey has not ended.”
“Can’t we do anything?” pleaded Brigid.
Duncan reached for her hand and placed it on his chest. “Och, what would ye have me do? It would not be right. He must find redemption on his own. I can tell ye that he holds the Fae in little or no regard.”
“I remember those days,” interjected Stephen. “Full of dark thoughts regarding them.”
Aileen snorted softly. “I’m certainly glad that you changed your mind, especially since I’m half Fae, too.”
Brigid gave Duncan a quick kiss before releasing him. “I can at least feed your brother. Come, Aileen. Perhaps you can teach me how to prepare that healing tea you’ve been telling me about.”
“Brigid.” Duncan’s tone held more warning than amusement, though his mouth quirked at the corners.
She waved him off, linking her arm with Aileen’s as they walked quickly back into the castle.
Nell came bounding out the front and nearly collided with the two women. “Och, sorry.”
Brigid caught her outstretched arm to steady her. “What’s the rush?”
“Did ye not see the new dog? He’s so verra handsome,” she stated beaming.
“Yes, I did,” smiled Brigid.
“Will he be staying long?”
“Duncan and Stephen’s brother, or the dog?”
Nell snickered. “Merlin, the dog.”
Duncan placed a gentle hand on Nell’s shoulder. “How do ye ken his name?”
“I asked the man as he held the door open for the dog.” Her eyes went wide as she continued, “He even let me touch Merlin.”
“Did he now.”
“Och, the poor thing. He said they had a rough journey, and the dog needed to rest.”
“Why don’t ye go with your mother and Aileen and look for some scraps for the dog. I am sure he is hungry, too.”
“Thank ye, Father,” she said giving Duncan a quick hug.
As Stephen watched Nell scamper off to join Aileen and Brigid, he cast his brother a sideways glance. “Fatherhood agrees with ye. Ye do ken that she will have ye in knots in a few years.”
“Humph! I will send her to the nearest convent on that day.”
Clamping a firm hand on Duncan’s shoulder, he let out a bark of laughter.
****
Alastair stared at the unmoving woman lying in his bed. He had stripped her boots off and loosened her laces. Until the healer arrived, he would do no more. A cold knife of fear had taken up residence in his chest with each passing hour that she remained silent.
Walking over to the window, he brushed aside the tapestry to let some of the cooler air into the room. Looking down below, emotions blurred recalling the moment he stepped through the gate. He could barely form the words to speak to either brother. He felt like an outsider—intruding on their calm, peaceful lives.
This was their home. Not his.
Shoving the uneasiness back down, he walked over and retrieved a chair, placing it next to the bed. Picking up Fiona’s pale hand, he kissed each bruised fingertip. Thoughts of her bathing came back to him. If only she would awaken, he would bath her until her skin glistened.
Merlin padded over to him, putting his head next to his thigh.
“She will not wake, my friend.” Scratching behind his ear, Alastair continued to stare at Fiona’s face—willing her eyes to open.
He was startled when the door opened. Duncan calmly walked into the room, and then stepped aside to let a small woman enter. A flare of recognition passed through his mind, and he frowned trying to remember.
“This is Matilda, Alastair. She is here to tend to the woman,” Duncan said as he closed the door.
“Her name is Fiona,” he stated gruffly.
Matilda smiled and walked over to Alastair. “’Tis good to see ye, since I feared ye would never return.” She squeezed him lightly on the shoulder, and he could feel the weight of her words.
Standing, Alastair swept his hand out toward Fiona. “She will not wake.”
“What happened?” Matilda asked softly.
He glanced up at his brother before turning his gaze back to Fiona. “Her horse took an arrow and she fell off, hitting her head on a boulder.”
Alastair waited for a response from Duncan, but his brother kept silent.
Matilda brushed a hand across her temple. “Her face is pale.” Leaning closer, she closed her eyes and placed a hand below her throat. Moments passed before she final
ly opened them. “Her breathing is steady, which is a good sign. There are times when the mind puts the body in a deep sleep, so that it may heal. For now, I will require some warm water and cloths to cleanse the wound. We cannae risk the lass to catch a fever.”
Alastair rubbed a hand over his weary face. “Ye are correct. She must be healing.” A tiny spark of hope threaded its way inside of him, and he let out a sigh.
“Ye are tired. Eat and get some rest. I will stay with her.”
Shaking his head, Alastair took Fiona’s hand. “Nae,” he uttered softly. “I intend to stay until she wakes.”
“Is she your woman?” asked Duncan pushing away from the wall where he stood.
Without hesitation, he answered, “Aye.”
Matilda tilted her head up at him. “Then it would do ye good to get some food first before ye keep watch over her.”
He waved her off. “Not hungry.”
“Liar,” stated Duncan. “I can hear your stomach from across the room. Brigid is preparing your meal as we speak. Come. Let us speak and eat together. Then ye can return to Fiona.”
Alastair clenched his eyes shut realizing his brother was correct. He owed him that much. When he opened them, he bent and brushed a kiss along Fiona’s forehead. “Rest and heal, my bonny leannan, for I have much to tell ye when ye wake.”
Walking over to the door, he took one last look over his shoulder. “Watch over her, Merlin.”
“Och, he is a fine guard.” Matilda smiled giving the dog a pat on the head.
They walked in silence through the corridors, and Alastair frowned when Duncan took a sudden turn leading upward. “Not to the kitchens?”
“I thought it best if we talk in private without the presence of the others,” Duncan replied as he made his way into his chambers.
“Brigid?”
“And my wife, Aileen,” added Stephen moving away from the hearth. He handed Alastair a mug. “Sorry, no mead. ’Tis only wine.
“Wine will do,” said Alastair reaching for the mug. Suddenly, Stephen’s words slammed into his mind. “Wife?” he sputtered.
“Aye. On Midsummer. A child due in February.”
Alastair blinked and looked at Duncan.
“And Brigid is my wife as of the past Winter Solstice. Our children, adopted, are the young lass, Nell, whom ye have met, and Finn. Ye can usually find the lad in the stables with Tiernan.”
Alastair drained his mug, searching for the pitcher. He got no further when Stephen poured him a hefty amount. Downing it quickly, he staggered over to a chair.
Words failed him.
A sharp rap at the door brought him out of his shock. Watching as Duncan opened it, his mouth fell open as two beautiful women entered. One with auburn tresses and green eyes swept into the room; the other, silver blonde hair with eyes that made him stop breathing, for they reminded him of another.
Margaret.
Standing, he leaned against the table for support.
“Alastair, this is my wife, Brigid,” said Duncan placing a protective arm around her.
“And this is Aileen,” stated Stephen, “my wife.”
He nodded at both of them. “Brigid. Aileen.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Brigid broke free from Duncan and went to embrace Alastair. “It’s so good to finally meet another brother.”
She kept babbling, and Alastair had a difficult time following her language. She sounded vaguely like another. Then his eyes went wide. Grabbing her, he asked, “Where did ye travel from?”
Smiling up at him, she answered, “It’s a very long story, but the short version?”
He nodded his head for her to continue.
“About eight hundred years. From a land yet to be discovered.”
Alastair cocked his head to the side, gazing at Aileen. “And ye?”
“The same.”
Releasing Brigid, he stared into Aileen’s eyes. Swallowing, he took a few steps back and glanced at Stephen. “Fae?”
“Really?” She crossed her arms across her chest in mock indignation. “Must I explain each time I meet a MacKay brother?” she protested.
Alastair shrugged.
She glared at him. “Only part Fae. On my father’s side.”
Stephen coughed into his hand when he added, “Father was a Fenian warrior.”
Stunned, Alastair pointed a finger at Stephen, but kept his gaze on Aileen. “And your father let ye marry him?”
“My father died saving us,” Aileen uttered softly. She walked over to Stephen as he put his arm around her.
“My apologies, Aileen,” replied Alastair. “There is much I do not understand, which I am surely going to hear all.”
“Alastair is correct,” stated Duncan. “However, I would ken what enemy is after ye, so that we may prepare for any attacks.”
Refilling his mug, Alastair met Duncan’s gaze boldly. “I was captured and tortured by the MacFhearguis laird. Fiona and I escaped with the help of Patrick. Yet, the man sought us out trying to take his revenge.” He paused and took a deep swill. “In the end, I killed Michael MacFhearguis.”
A hushed silence fell over the room.
Duncan was the first to move. Clamping a hand on Alastair’s shoulder, he said, “Ye might want to give us as many details as possible.”
“The man was wild.” Tapping a finger to his head, he added, “Not right in the head. What more do ye need to know?” Alastair clipped out.
“I fear we will need to hear it all, since I will have to explain it to the new laird of Leomhann, who at present is sitting in the great hall.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Do not twist the truth to please others, or the many lies will bury you.”
Slamming his fist on the table, several mugs toppled over spilling their contents. “By all that is holy, why? Could ye not have spared him?” demanded Alex.
Alastair remained seated. “Would ye have me keep walking as your brother attempted to kill me—again.”
“Patrick could have stopped him,” he clipped out.
Shaking his head, he stood slowly. “He would not have been satisfied until blood was shed. Dinnae forget, he held me prisoner and beat me. And let us not forget Fiona. If your brother had not walked in, Michael would have raped her. Pray tell me, Alex, why should I have spared his life?”
“Ye ken naught of what has come to pass here. Our brother was being controlled—used by a vile druid.”
Alastair arched a brow. “As Patrick told me.” He cast a glance at Duncan, who had remained quiet. Taking a calmer tone, he turned back to Alex, and added, “If ye were in my place, what would ye have done?”
A muscle twitched in Alex’s jaw. Finally, shoulders sagging, he slumped down in his chair. “Will this ever end?” he muttered.
“Aye,” Duncan cut in. “When the bastard, Lachlan, is dead. Until that day, we must band together.”
Alastair could feel the chill of Duncan’s words as the mood in the room changed. They each had suffered horrifically from this druid. Even he could not escape the clutches of this demon. His thoughts turned to Fiona, and he was anxious to return to his chambers. Rubbing his forehead, he tried to shake the pain behind his eyes.
Duncan stood. “I believe the hour is late. We can discuss further plans in the morn.”
“Nae,” replied Alex, reaching for his sword. “I shall depart before dawn to bury my laird.”
Stephen pushed away from the wall where he had been standing quietly. “I am sorry for your loss, Alex.”
“If Lachlan is not stopped, I fear we will be burying more of our kin,” stated Alex.
Alastair watched as the man turned and strode out the door. He turned to his brothers. “I fear he is correct. Does no one ken where this man is?”
Stephen ran his fingers through his hair in irritation. “The druid council is working on it as we speak. Lachlan is as slimy as an eel and verra deadly.”
Aileen walked in with others trailing behind her. She carried a
trencher with several bowls of steaming liquid. Setting the items on the table, Alastair’s stomach growled fiercely. Hesitant to ask what was in the soup, he waited.
Smiling, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a vegetable and turnip soup. Stephen told me of your eating habits, since you don’t eat meat. The broth is my own concoction made from carrots and onions. Bread filled with cheese and Delia’s version of gingerbread.” She peeked over her shoulder at Delia and then whispered, “We’re doing battle over the cheesy bread. She’s not pleased that I’ve stuffed it inside.”
Alastair could not help but return the smile, and squeezed her hand in thanks.
Stephen reached out to snag a piece of the bread, but Aileen smacked his hand away. “This is for Alastair. If you want some, you know where to find it, and honey, too.” Giving him a wink, she sauntered out of the hall.
“So ye are still fond of the honey,” said Alastair between bites of the soup.
“He raids the larder weekly,” chuckled Duncan as he poured some wine into a mug for each of them.
Downing the contents of the mug, Duncan reached for the pitcher of wine to take with him. “I will leave ye to your meal, Alastair. Get some rest.”
Alastair waited until he was out of sight in the hall. “Is Brigid not well?” Alastair asked, reaching for his mug.
Stephen grimaced. “Nae. Why?”
Alastair tore a piece of bread and dunked it into his soup. “She did not see me when I overheard her speaking with Matilda asking for some herbs and clutching her sides. Is she with child?”
Letting out a deep sigh, Stephen leaned back in his chair and twirled the wine in his mug. “Brigid cannae have children. She was injured in a battle by Lachlan and died.”
“What?” Alastair choked on some bread.
“It is true. She died in Duncan’s arms.”
“But how?” he asked stunned.
“The Guardian let her return. There were conditions that only she and Duncan ken. She did tell Aileen that she was given a choice. And to answer your question, there are times when her wound gives her trouble.”
“And Aileen?”
“When her father was injured and I feared for her safety, I sent her back to her own time during a battle.”
“Sent her back?”
