“Allow me to aid you as well. I believe in your mission, Katherine.” Mary rummaged through the basket of clothing still needing repair. “You’re a MacLean and you wear my amulet. Once you reach Mull, tell the MacLeans I sent you. Many of the warriors we fought against at the Rhinns saw Marie and you’re her identical. Allow them to assume you are her. No one would harm one of the fae.”
“I can do that.”
“Good. Also, seek my brother’s wife out. Margaret cared for James and she has a kind heart.”
“I promise I’ll seek her out, only how do I get to Mull?”
“Make your way along the coastline to Ardbeg. The seaside village is close and once you reach it, you can hire one of the fishermen to sail you across the waterway. They willnae wish to make landfall for long, but I have my own coin and I’ll give you what you need to ensure your safe passage.” She hauled a lad’s fawn-colored tunic, breeches, and cap from the basket and passed it to her. “I made these for Hector, but he’s yet to grow into them. This clothing should fit you and provide an adequate disguise. We need to sneak you out of here.”
“Now, that’s a plan I can work with.” Excitement and trepidation rolled through her in equal measure. Leaving for Mull was right, the reason she was here. Quickly, she unlaced her gown, donned the lad’s clothing and bundled her hair up under the cap. Mary passed her a pair of socks and boots. She tugged them on and twirled around. “How do I look?”
“You’ll need a plaid to keep you warm, one that does no’ hold the MacDonald colors.” Mary searched inside her basket and grinned as she pulled out a black and white tartan. She wrapped it around her waist and secured it with a pin across her chest. “Now, you look perfect.”
“I’ll fetch supplies from the kitchen and pack you a bag.” Marie dashed to the door in a flurry of emerald skirts. “I won’t be long.” She snuck out.
“I’ll see to the fae’s mission. I won’t fail them, or you, Mary.”
“I know you willnae, but please, take care.” Mary crossed to her corner desk and opened a drawer. She returned and pressed several coins into her hand. “This should see you through.”
“Thank you. I’d like to write John a note.” She pocketed the coins then picked up a quill and a piece of paper from Mary’s desk. She explained to him her reason for going and that she hadn’t wished to leave under such circumstances, but she’d return, as soon as her mission was complete and that he wasn’t to worry about her. After signing her name, she blew on the wet ink and once it dried, folded the letter in three. “Could you give this to him for me?”
“Of course.” Mary slid it into her olive gown’s pocket.
“I’ve got everything you need.” Marie rushed back into the room, her cheeks flushed and a wooden pail in hand. “George just popped out to the bailey. He’s overseeing the change of guard so now’s the perfect time for you to leave.”
“I take it I’m to collect the fish for the day?”
“That you are.” She passed her the pail holding a brown canvas satchel hidden inside. “The cook’s son was about to head down to the bay to collect the fishermen’s catch. I told him I would ask another to see to the task. With Mary’s help, we’ll get you out of here, or at least that’s the plan.”
* * * *
Ten minutes later Katherine swung her pail in one hand as she ambled across the bailey, her gait the same as the cook’s son’s lanky stride. Across the keep near the center well, Mary and Marie walked then stopped. Mary gasped then with an anguished moan, bent over. Mary’s cry tore at her, made her want to drop her pail and run to her, but she held her place.
The guards raced toward Mary and Marie, George at the front.
The moment they passed Katherine, she dashed out the gate and raced into the forest. Her sister could be as sneaky as her, and it appeared her ancestor as well.
Once clear of the guardsmen’s sight, she followed the trail until the crashing of the ocean’s waves reached her on the breeze. Veering toward the sea, she scrambled down a stony track and onto the beach. Behind her, Dunyvaig stood like a sentinel perched on the tip of Lagavulin Bay.
Time to complete her mission. She straightened her shoulders and firmed her resolve. Ardbeg was only a few miles away. She’d get there, find a fisherman and sail to Mull.
As she trekked, seagulls circled overhead. One squawked then dove into the white-capped waves and emerged with a fish. Its catch drew the attention of the other birds and they flew after it. Past the screeching cacophony and across the waterway, Mull and her MacLean kin awaited her. Hopefully her father’s clan would embrace her and not turn her away.
Goodness. Was she truly leaving the safety of Dunyvaig for the unknown of Duart? Her step slowed as worry skittered through her. No, this was right. She had to continue on.
The sun dipped along the horizon and sent a final flare of red across the sunset sky. The wind blasted through and she shivered. Ahead, the bay curved and a stream gurgled into the sea. She clambered over the rocks, lowered herself to her knees at the brook’s edge and dipped her hands into the stream and sipped. Icy water hit her empty belly and she swayed.
“Well, well, who do we have here?” A scraggly bearded warrior stepped out of the gloominess of the tree line, his grass-stained tattered tunic smeared with blood. His gaze moved over her then to the amulet glinting at her neck. “The faerie, the one we captured and took to the Rhinns. This is a boon finding you.”
“You’re Finlay?” He looked exactly as he had in her vision.
“Aye.” His bushy brown brows drew together. “It appears you’re a clever faerie too. ’Tis no wonder my chief wanted you.”
“I might be fae, but I’m also of both clans, MacLean and MacDonald.”
“That worries me no’. Lachlan chose you as the bait to lure the MacDonalds into a battle, and so will I, except on MacLean land where we’ll have a greater fighting force.”
“I’ll never aid you in your war, not when the fae have given me the task to bring about some peace.”
“There will never be peace.” He spat on the ground. “You have the power to aid us in the return of our land, and even though Lachlan was taken by the king’s men following our battle, I willnae give up his fight. As my hostage, you’ll provide me with bargaining power I need over the MacDonalds. The Rhinns will be ours. Make no mistake about that.” He grabbed her arm and hauled her after him. Hidden within bushes at the bend in the bay, a half-beached skiff sat waiting. He tossed her into the hull, pushed the boat into the water and sprayed drops over her as he bounded in.
Even though John had searched this area and now scoured the woods for Finlay, he hadn’t changed history. Finlay had found her, and with the Isle of Mull now her destination, she didn’t put up a fight. She would arrive at Duart by Finlay’s hand, the future unchanged.
* * * *
As the sun dipped along the horizon, John crouched in the forest at the base of a tree next to Archie and their men. For the past two days, they’d searched the woods within five miles of Dunyvaig.
“These are the freshest tracks we’ve come across.” Archie inspected the prints in the damp soil then stared upward. “It appears our adversary may have used the treetops to remain hidden.”
Above, a rope made of vines looped around the tree’s bow, gave evidence of that very fact. John nodded. “He slept in the bow, securing himself with the vines so as no’ to fall.”
“I’ll take a closer look.” Archie eyed Eric. “Give me a boost.”
Eric, one of their best trackers, bent and cupped his hands. He was a massive man, yet one who had the uncanny ability of slipping in and out of the smallest spaces.
Archie planted his foot in Eric’s palms and jumped as Eric heaved him upward. Archie knelt in the bow then peered across at the tree closest to him. He leaped and sailed through the air, from one tree to the next then when he could go no farther, he shimmied down the trunk and landed on the mossy ground with a soft clomp. Bending, he surveyed the area. “He
re’s where the tracks begin again.”
“Damn it.” John traipsed toward his brother. “Finlay MacLean is a snake. He knew exactly how to conceal himself.”
“We’ll find him, John. He cannae evade us forever.”
“You’re damn right we’ll find—” Pain slammed through his chest and he stumbled to his knees.
“John?” Archie grasped his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
’Twas as if someone had taken a spear and thrust it right through his heart. He patted his back to be sure no one had attacked him from behind. The pain slowly receded but not the sheer ache in his soul. That could be only one thing. “’Tis Katherine. Something’s happened to her. I have to go.”
With one hand on the ground, he shoved to his feet then raced toward his tethered horse. Behind him, Archie ordered Eric and the others to continue following the warrior’s tracks then sprinted after him.
John mounted and rode hard toward Dunyvaig. He urged his black destrier faster down the narrow forest path edging the cliffs. Below, the sea roared and crashed against the jagged rock wall.
White-hot terror cut through him. ’Twas as if his soul-deep connection with Katherine was stretching to its farthest point, tearing at his chest. Everything within him demanded he find her.
Fisting his horse’s reins, he burst out of the forest and plunged down the hillside toward an isolated bay, the very one he’d searched following Katherine’s nightmare, and the very one he checked again each day. Across the rocky beach a scrap of black and white tartan fluttered where it had snagged between two boulders, while out at sea a skiff’s white sail caught the moonlight then disappeared in the dark toward the north.
“What it is?” Archie called as he rode in beside him.
“Katherine’s gone. I can feel the depth of my loss through our bond. We need to sail to Mull.” She was on that skiff, and he was certain of it. “The warrior has her.”
He slammed his knees into his steed, jumped a fallen tree across his path and raced toward Dunyvaig. He’d make chase, and as quickly as he could.
Chapter 6
After two days of bitter wind in her face and a night on the cold ground when they’d stopped at the Isle of Jura’s northern tip to rest, the sea journey to Mull was almost done.
Katherine huddled within her black and white plaid as Duart Castle rose like a fortress in the moonlight ahead. The MacLean stronghold sat prominently at the point where the Sound of Mull intersected with Loch Linne and the Firth of Lorne. Land rose from the water in every direction. The stronghold held a very favorable position with its unhindered views.
A few hundred feet inland, the castle’s massive gray tower windows were lit with candlelight, its fortified walls topped with battlements and guardsmen roaming the ramparts. Lachlan MacLean’s vast holdings stretched across several isles, from Mull to Jura and to Coll, yet this was his favored stronghold.
“We’re almost there.” Finlay lowered the sail and plunged his oars into the depths of the water as he maneuvered the skiff toward the sea-gate.
Near the stone landing, two large men waded into the water. Each seized a side of the skiff as they came abreast of them. They guided the boat the last few feet and nestled it next to the stone stairs.
Another warrior appeared out of the dark along the castle trail, his massive claymore strapped across his back. Dressed in black leather trews and an emerald silk tunic, the colors matched his midnight-black hair and vivid green eyes to perfection. The warrior eyed Finlay. “We thought you’d been captured. Welcome home, cousin.”
“The MacDonalds searched for me, but I managed to evade them.” He bounded onto the landing and gripped the warrior in a firm forearm hold then motioned toward her. “I’ve brought you a gift, Captain, a bargaining chip to be used against the MacDonalds.”
The dark-haired warrior scrutinized her. “A bargaining chip? All I see a lass dressed in lad’s clothing.”
“This is Lachlan’s faerie. She was there when we battled for the Rhinns.”
The warrior edged forward, one thumb sliding under his claymore’s front belted strap. “I wasnae there, but I heard Lachlan’s faerie has long white-blond hair, that she came forth from the guardians’ circle and is of both clans, her father a MacLean and her mother a MacDonald. I’ll have your name, lass.”
She fought the chill in her bones and stood to gain some height. “Katherine MacLean, and I was already on my way here when I met Finlay. I’ve come willingly, or willingly enough. I also won’t be considered as a bargaining chip. I’m here to learn more about my MacLean kin.” She tugged the cap from her head and her locks fell in a soft swish to her waist. “Here is your proof of who I am.”
He watched her, one brow slowly rising then resting a hand on Finlay’s shoulder, he said, “I understand why you would bring her here, but using women and children as pawns in our war bothers me. She’s also a MacLean, one of our own. I’ll need to think on what we’re to do.”
“Lachlan wouldnae think twice about it, Arthur. Using her as leverage to gain an advantage against the MacDonalds is imperative. Our numbers have been severely depleted from our last battle and we cannae win this war through the usual means.”
“She is still a MacLean.” Arthur stepped toward her and extended his hand. “It appears you’ll be here to stay for a while. Welcome to Duart.”
“Thank you.” She tucked her bag over her shoulder and took his hand.
He swung her onto the landing beside him and her legs shook from being confined to one position for so long. “Are you well?” He kept a steadying hand on her elbow as she wobbled.
“I’m not used to being at sea or traveling for such a long length of time across water.”
“Then come. You’ll no doubt enjoy a warm bath and a meal.” He led her across the pebbly beach and toward the trail. They followed the path up the grassy rise then strode past flickering torches mounted against the stone walls of the bailey.
From the direction of the entrance, a boisterous buzz of voices echoed toward her and she took a deep, fortifying breath and entered the great hall. The vaulted room held high wooden beamed rafters, and the walls were covered with beautiful tapestries, of hunting and landscape scenes. The sight of trestle tables stacked with platters of cooked meat, boiled eggs, and bread, made her empty belly rumble. On wooden benches, a good hundred warriors or more sat, while serving maids carrying trays holding steaming bowls of stew, weaved around them. This clan thrived even though they’d suffered the imprisonment of their chief and the loss of a number of their men in the recent battle.
“There’s Margaret.” Arthur urged her toward the dais where a woman stood, her gaze on them as they crossed the room. Margaret looked so similar to Mary with her pale complexion, freckled cheeks, and red-gold locks tumbling down to her waist, except this woman wasn’t carrying as Mary was. Tall and lithe, her corseted red velvet gown hugged her trim waist, the red and gold silk ribbons lacing the front an entwining of rich colors. “The chief’s wife will tend you during your stay, of which I shall decide the manner, and how long it shall be. Margaret.” Arthur laid his hand on the woman’s shoulder and gestured toward her. “Meet Lachlan’s faerie, Katherine MacLean. She was present at the battle of the Rhinns, and Finlay has returned with her from Islay.”
Margaret’s eyes widened. “Arthur, please, dinnae tell me Finlay stole her away from the MacDonalds.”
“She insists she came willingly.”
“It’s all right, I did.” She stepped up to Margaret and lifted Mary’s talisman for her to see. “This amulet is Mary’s, recently gifted to me. She was most grateful for your kindness to her son while he remained here during the negotiations to free his father. Mary told me to seek you out.”
She cast her gaze over the piece. “Aye, ’tis the same amulet she placed around her son’s neck when she sent him here. Did my sister-by-marriage have another request of me?”
“I’m to ask you for aid.”
“Then let’s speak
in private. Excuse us, Arthur.” Margaret led her toward the stairwell then slowed as a maid walked toward her. “Maddie, I need you to prepare a bath for our guest, and be as quick as you can about it. Mistress Katherine’s to have the blue chamber next to mine.”
“Aye, my lady.” The girl dashed upstairs.
“Margaret,” Arthur called, his arms crossed and his booted feet planted wide. “I’ll post a guard at her door. Our guest is no’ permitted free reign to wander about Duart. With the laird away, I’m responsible for this clan and she has come forth from the MacDonalds’ lair.”
“Of course.” Margaret tightened her grip on Katherine. “This way.” She hurried up the winding stairs, guided her down a dimly lit passageway and slowed as ahead, two lanky lads with their shirttails fluttering loose over their breeches, heaved a tub through a doorway.
They entered the chamber and the lads set the tub down and shuffled out. Across the room, Maddie knelt at the hearth, coaxing the sparks of a welcoming fire into life. She added a log and it crackled and caught alight.
Rising, she dusted her hands against her aproned sides. “Is there aught more you need, my lady?”
Margaret nodded. “Aye, a tray, and to fetch some gowns from my ambry. It appears our guest has arrived with very little clothing.”
Maddie bobbed her head and quietly closed the door behind her.
“Thank you. I had to leave Dunyvaig rather suddenly and I have just what’s on me.” She set the satchel with the meager supplies Marie had given her on the end of the four-poster bed with its rich burgundy velvet canopy. “I’m truly glad to be here.”
“You may be fae, but you’re also MacLean. I dinnae wish for you to fear during your stay with us.” Looking into her eyes, Margaret squeezed her hands, her fingers warm around hers. “I will watch over you, just as I did with James.”
“Thank you.” This woman she didn’t know would one day carry her paternal line. Margaret MacLean wasn’t just the chief’s wife, but her ancestor, just as Mary was. She soaked in the sight of her. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”
Highlander's Faerie (Highlander Heat Book 5) Page 9
