“He wouldn’t risk doing it by his own hand, especially this close to the castle.” Rory clenched the handle of the dirk at his belt and looked off into the distance with narrowed eyes.
Watching him, Sybil thought that whoever had done Hector’s foul bidding and attempted to harm this child was a fool. Rory would find him and kill him.
And Hector should be worried, for his time would come too.
***
Rory sat with his claymore sword across his knees and watched his son’s chest rise and fall with his steady breathing. Grizel had given him a sleeping draught so that the pain from his injuries would not interfere with his rest. When Rory sent her off to get some sleep herself, she reassured him again that the lad was out of danger. But Rory knew better.
As the door creaked open, he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. When he saw Sybil in the glow of the candlelight, he relaxed.
“You should get some sleep.” Sybil smoothed his hair back with her fingers and kissed his forehead, a gesture he had missed without knowing he had.
“I can’t leave the lad’s side when I don’t know who I can trust,” he said. “Whoever did this is close by.”
“Ye don’t know that it was someone in the castle,” she said as she settled onto the seat beside him. “Hector could have had one of his men watching the castle for an opportunity.”
“Either way, I can’t take the chance of leaving him unguarded,” Rory said. “If you’re right that someone made his pony bolt—and I think ye are—this is not the first attempt, and it’s unlikely to be the last.” He did not know how many were involved in the plot, but the bastards were bold and determined.
“Ye can’t watch Kenneth every moment.” She propped her elbow on her knee and rested her chin on her hand. “We’ll have to find another solution.”
“Malcolm is here, and I’ll send for my brother in the morning,” he said. “We can watch the lad in turns.”
“Hmm.”
Apparently she did not think much of that plan. He had to admit it was a short-term solution at best. “What are ye thinking?”
“That the best way to keep Kenneth safe is to let him die.” When he raised his eyebrows, she said. “Not truly die.”
“Create a deceit, then?”
“Everyone saw ye carry his limp body into the castle,” she said. “In the morning, ye can announce the dreadful news that the poor lad didn’t survive the night.”
“Once he’s recovered, it will be difficult to keep a rambunctious lad hidden from the household for long.”
He loved how she bit her lip as she applied her quick mind to the problem. Working together felt like it used to be before their falling out. This was how it should be between them.
“Until we can eliminate the threat, the safest place for him is with the Grants,” Sybil said. “I’m sure they’ll agree to keep his presence there a secret until we can bring him home again.”
Rory did not like the idea of having Kenneth out of his sight, but she was right. The danger to him was here, from within the MacKenzie clan. The Grants would guard him well, and having him in their protection would free Rory to deal with Hector and his accomplices.
“We’ll either have to make a pretense of delivering his body to them in a funeral cart or secret him out some other way,” Rory said. “There will be trouble, though, if word of his death reaches the Grants before we can get him to Urquhart Castle.”
“We can’t let that happen.” Sybil’s hand went to her throat. “That would cause them unnecessary sorrow.”
“Not to mention a clan war, which is just what Hector wanted,” Rory said. “I’ll send a message ahead, but I doubt Grant will believe it. He doesn’t trust me when it comes to the lad.”
“Grant trusts me,” she said. “I’ll write the message and mention a private conversation we had so he knows it’s from me.”
Rory recalled that conversation all too well. “Tell him you’re not exchanging your younger husband for an older one—and that we’ll meet him just outside of Beauly, by the river.”
He could hardly believe they were actually going to try this scheme, but múineann gá seift, need teaches a plan.
A smile played on Sybil’s lips as she leaned back and folded her arms. “Hector will believe he has succeeded, and then we will have him right where we want him.”
This was the Sybil he knew and loved. Her eyes were shining as she envisioned the defeat of his enemy. How had he ever doubted her loyalty? As Catriona said, the best luck of his life was when Sybil’s brother deceived him in a game of cards.
He pulled her onto his lap and was about to kiss her for the first time in far too long when Grizel interrupted them—again. This time, Malcolm was with her.
“Lucky we came to relieve you,” Grizel said, “or the lad might wake up to see something he shouldn’t.”
Rory shared the plan with the older couple while Sybil wrote out the message to Grant.
“I’ll have my grandson Ewan leave at first light to deliver it,” Malcolm said. “He’s a fast rider and will have it to Urquhart Castle before the false news can reach the Grants.”
When they started to debate how best to get Kenneth out of the castle without anyone guessing he was alive, Grizel interrupted them.
“You’re going to wake the lad with all your jabbering. This can wait till morning,” Grizel said. “Off to bed with the two of ye. Malcolm and I will stay with the lad the rest of the night.”
Rory caught the look that passed between the older couple and realized they were trying to give him and Sybil time alone. He was sorely tempted, but he was uneasy about leaving his son.
“I’ll bar the door and keep my sword at hand,” Malcolm assured him, then he leaned closer and said, “Now go make up with your wife while ye have the chance.”
Malcolm’s words were a reminder that one could never know what tomorrow would bring. But tonight, he would have Sybil back in his arms again.
“You’re a wise man,” Rory said, squeezing Malcolm’s shoulder. “No wonder my father made you his chief counselor.”
Rory followed Sybil down the stairs with his heart in his throat, not certain if she had truly forgiven him. When they reached their bedchamber and closed the door, he stood still, aching to touch her, but not knowing if she would have him. He wanted her so much his hands shook.
***
Sybil watched Rory’s chest rise and fall with his ragged breathing.
“I love ye so much,” he said. “Do ye think it possible for ye to ever love me again?”
She felt too choked with emotion to speak at first. She rested her hand over his heart and felt it pounding beneath her palm.
“I’m willing to wait as long as it takes,” he said.
“I never stopped loving you,” she whispered, looking into his eyes. “I never will.”
When she rose on her toes to meet his lips, his kiss was so full of longing it made her heart ache.
“Sybil, I’m so sor—”
“Shhh.” She touched her finger to his lips. “We’ve both made mistakes and hurt each other, and we’ll need to talk it all through. But the night is short, and I want to spend what’s left of it in your arms.”
She took his hand and led him to the bed.
They did not need words tonight. They showed each other their love and forgiveness with every touch, every kiss, every sigh. Tears filled her eyes as she kissed Rory’s battle scars and the new bruises from saving his son, marks of a man willing to risk his life for others.
Though Rory was bound to cause her anguish each time he put his life in danger, she knew how lucky she was to be loved by a man who was brave and honorable to his core.
They made love slowly savoring each moment, as if it might be their last time. As they melded together in a sensuous rhythm, Sybil felt as if their bodies and hearts were one.
Rory held her face between his hands as he moved inside her with excruciating slowness.
When she saw
the love in his eyes, she had no doubt that he was hers again.
And she was his. She had been from the start.
They lay wrapped in each other’s arms until dawn, which came all too soon. Rory lifted her chin with his finger to look into her eyes.
“Neither of us has found trust easy, a chuisle mo chroí,” pulse of my heart, he said. “But if we are to get through this, we must trust each other now.”
“No matter what comes,” Sybil said as she held his face between her hands. “Ye have my heart, always.”
***
After making the grim announcement of Kenneth’s death to the household, Rory rejoined the others upstairs in Kenneth’s chamber.
“You’re sure he’s well enough to travel?” he asked Grizel.
“He’s a strong lad,” she said, mussing Kenneth’s hair. “He’ll do fine so long as he takes it easy.”
Since they’d settled on a plan to take him in a cart covered in a shroud and blanket, that would not be a problem.
“It’ll be fun playing dead,” Kenneth said. “See if I don’t fool them all.”
Rory exchanged a worried look with Sybil. They were not entirely happy with their plan but had not come up with a better one. The cart would make the journey slow, and it would be unseemly to take the body of the Grant chieftain’s grandson without a large escort, which meant Kenneth would have to lie still under the blanket for a long while.
“Your grandfather and Flora will be so happy to see you,” Sybil said, “but we’ll miss you.”
Kenneth’s smile faded. “Am I coming back?”
“Of course ye are,” she said. “Isn’t he, Rory?”
“Aye.” He squeezed Kenneth’s shoulder. “You belong here, son.”
Rory was about to leave to gather the men who would ride with them when someone pounded on the door.
“Open the door!” Alex shouted from the other side. “Hurry!”
When Rory unbarred it, both his brother and sister hurried in, and he shut it behind them.
“I came as quickly as I heard,” Alex said between gasps for breath.
“How did ye hear about Kenneth’s accident so soon?” Rory asked.
“What? The lad’s been hurt?” Alex’s gaze shifted to where Kenneth lay on the bed.
“He’s going to be fine.” Rory gripped his brother’s arm. “What did ye ride here to tell me?”
“I heard a confession this morning from a Gairloch man,” Alex said. “Hector is laying an ambush near Loch Ussie for the Munro chieftain and his guard.”
“Ye must stop them!” Catriona interjected.
“Hector plans to slaughter them,” Alex said. “And ye know the blame will fall on you.”
“Aye.” As chieftain, the actions of his clan were his responsibility. The Munros would believe he either gave the order or should have been able to control his clansmen. Rory cursed his uncle for planning a senseless killing. And for what? To create more enemies for Rory to face.
“Ye can’t let this happen,” his sister said, clinging to his arm. “Ye must do something.”
“I fear it may be too late already,” Alex said.
“Pray it’s not,” Rory said, and grabbed his sword. “I’ll take all the men I can spare from the castle and go at once.”
“What about the Grants? They’ll be on their way to Beauly by now,” Sybil said. “If we fail to meet them with Kenneth, they’re bound to think the worst.”
“The Grants will have to wait,” Rory said. “Malcolm, I leave my wife and son in your care.”
Rory lifted Sybil off her feet and kissed her. And then he was gone.
***
A sense of premonition hung over Sybil like a dark cloud as she stood at the window watching Rory ride out with his men. Of course Rory had to try to prevent the massacre of innocent men. That left the Grants to her.
She drew Malcolm aside. “We need to take Kenneth to Beauly.”
“Ach, lass,” he said, “I was afraid you’d say that.”
“We’ve no other choice,” she said. “If we’re not there, Grant will believe Kenneth is dead. Do ye want him to attack Castle Leod while Rory and half our men are gone?”
“We can’t leave the castle undefended, and we don’t have men to spare to escort a funeral cart.”
“Aye, we need a different plan,” she said. “Rory sneaked me out of my brother-in-law’s castle rolled in a blanket. We can do the same with Kenneth.”
“Rory would never allow you or Kenneth out of the castle without a guard.”
“No one will know it’s me and Kenneth,” she said. “We’ll say Alex was worried about his wife, who’s ready to deliver her babe, and begged ye to take Grizel to her. I’ll dress as a servant and cover my head in a hood.”
“There’s no need for you to go at all,” Malcolm said.
“If his grandson arrives without Rory and with only one man for protection, Grant will be insulted. He’ll believe Rory just wants to be rid of the lad,” she said. “But if I come in disguise and with no guard, he’ll believe our situation was desperate.”
“I don’t like it,” Malcolm said. “It puts both you and the lad at risk.”
“This is where he’s not safe,” she said. “Someone here wants to kill Kenneth.”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that ye waited to suggest this until Rory was gone.”
Of course she had. Rory would not have let her take the risk, and she’d have no chance of convincing Malcolm to go against a direct command.
Sybil turned to find Grizel and Catriona behind her, listening in on their conversation.
“The lass is right. We need to get Kenneth away,” Grizel said. “I’ll gather my things and get him ready.”
“What about me?” Catriona asked.
“Stay here and make certain no one comes into this chamber and finds there’s no dead body,” Malcolm said. “And if Rory returns before we do, ye can tell him where we’ve gone.”
“Ach, he’s going to be furious,” Catriona said.
“Beauly is not far,” Malcolm said. “With any luck, we’ll return long before he does.”
In the trunk in their bedchamber, Sybil found the tattered cloak she had worn on the long journey to the Highlands. Luckily, she had been unable to bring herself to throw it away. When she put it on, she was flooded with memories of their journey.
Since their wedding night, they had wasted precious time because they failed to trust each other. Last night had gone a long way toward healing their hearts, but she wished she could leave Rory a message to tell him how much she loved him and to ease his worry for her, in case he returned before she did. If only he could read. With a sigh, she started for the door, then stopped.
Rory knew the pendant from her mother was her most prized possession. She unfastened the clasp from her neck, kissed the stone, and left it on his pillow.
CHAPTER 43
He was too late.
Curan’s sides heaved from the hard gallop to reach this valley to stop the ambush. Rory was filled with rage and sorrow as his gaze traveled over the hillside, which was strewn with the headless corpses of slain Munro warriors.
“Rory,” Alex called up to him from the base of the hill, where there was a natural spring that was well known as a holy well. “Ye need to see this.”
Rory dismounted when he reached Alex, and they walked through the tall grass to the spring. His stomach turned at the sight that greeted him. Heads of the dead Munros had rolled down the hill and filled the spring.
“God forgive us.” He knelt with his brother and made the sign of the cross. “Hector and his men have shamed the MacKenzies this day.”
“As long as there are Munros in Scotland,” Alex said, “this holy well will be remembered for this terrible deed.”
This was a disaster in every possible way. The Munros were favored by the crown, and their young chief was expected to replace his father as the crown’s justiciar for the region. In addition to making the Munros bitter
enemies, the unprovoked nature of the attack could bring the wrath of the crown down on them.
And yet the massacre would be hailed by Hector’s followers as a cunning attack that would serve as a warning to the clan’s enemies. Hector fabricated threats, whipped up fear, and presented himself as the great war leader who could protect them.
As Rory looked at the grisly sight in the spring, he felt weighed down by the part he had inadvertently played in this atrocity. Hector had done this not to protect the clan, but to serve his goal of taking the chieftainship from Rory. If he had let Hector have what he wanted, these men would be alive.
He and his men stopped for the night at a tavern in the nearby town of Dingwall. He asked the tavern keeper what he’d heard about the attack.
“One of the Munros fled the battle and made it here to our church seeking sanctuary,” the man said. “Big Duncan of the Axe was chasing him, but he made it inside the church.”
That was one survivor. Rory drank down his ale, intent on heading to the church to speak with him.
“When Big Duncan caught him by the arm inside the church door, the Munro warrior shouted, Sanctuary saves me! Sanctuary saves me!” the tavern keeper continued his tale. “But Big Duncan pulled him back out the door. You’re not in the church now, he said, and killed him with one stroke of his axe.”
Rory rubbed his forehead. This just got worse and worse. “Did ye hear if any of the Munros escaped?”
“If they did, they didn’t pass through here.”
Rory prayed the Munro chieftain had survived. He disliked the arrogant young man, but wished him no harm. And as bad as the situation already was, killing their chieftain would lead to all-out war with the Munros.
***
“Where’s my grandfather?” Kenneth looked up at Sybil with Rory’s green eyes, but she had no answer.
“We’ll wait a little longer.” She strained to see the trail into the village through the branches of the trees. Malcolm had insisted they wait in the thick foliage along the river where they would not be seen by a chance traveler.
Perhaps the Grant chieftain was away when the message arrived. She imagined it lying on his table unopened, awaiting his return.
CLAIMED BY A HIGHLANDER (THE DOUGLAS LEGACY Book 2) Page 29
