by Donna Grant
“And I’d prefer you with me. I’m concerned about your safety.”
“In other words, you don’t trust your clan?”
“I trust them with my life.” He paused and crossed his arms over his chest. “However, their minds are clouded with hate and they will turn it on you.”
“While your clan will see me I’ll be with you so you can protect me.”
A slow, sensual smile crept across his face. She was sure that smile had left many a maiden with broken hearts.
“Aye,” he said. “But there’s one catch.”
The grin she had worn slipped. Why must there be some sort of catch. Here she thought he might be a good man who had her welfare in mind. He lowered his arms and stared at her fixedly, his silver orbs fierce and uncompromising. She knew whatever he had to say would be final and no amount of arguing would budge him.
“Keep the MacNeil plaid if you must, but you won’t wear it here.”
She blinked. She hadn’t expected to be asked so little. Setting aside the MacNeil plaid wouldn’t be difficult since she had never been a part of the clan. Actually, she was grateful to set it aside. She had wanted away from that clan for many a year. She had the chance and wasn’t about to pass it up.
“I’m asking this for your benefit,” he continued, unaware that she had eagerly set aside the plaid. “My people react harshly to the sight of the MacNeil colors.”
Let him think she wanted to keep it, she thought. He was making this very easy on her, but was it in her best interest to let him know that? “Give me a moment to change.”
He stopped and pointed to the blue jar. “Where did you get that?”
“I don’t know. I thought you brought it. I found it after my bath last eve.”
He shook his head but said no more about the jar. He stepped out of her chamber and she quickly shed the MacNeil plaid, folded it and placed it in the small chest in the corner.
She slid the gown over her head and was surprised to find it nearly fit her perfectly. It was just a wee tight across her chest. It was also a little long, but she could tell it had been hemmed.
It wouldn’t be difficult to keep from stepping on the lovely gown. It wasn’t new, but she was determined to make sure it was returned to the owner in this same condition.
She took one step, expecting her muscles to scream in agony, but there was only tightness with slight soreness. Whatever was in that jar worked wonders to work out the stiffness, she thought.
With a shaky breath, she masked her pain and opened the chamber door to find Conall lounging against the opposite wall as if he had all the time in the world. He nodded his approval and held out his arm.
She noted his wound had been tended and it didn’t seem to bother him in the least.
“Who do I thank for lending me this gown?” she asked as they began to descend the stairs.
“Iona.”
Glenna’s knees buckled. She briefly saw the stairs fast approaching, but her mind had frozen at hearing Iona’s name. Strong hands grabbed hold of her waist and jerked her up. Her breath stopped as she looked into his silver depths.
“Are you all right?” he asked, a mixture of irritation and concern in his voice.
She swallowed hard and nodded.
“I forgot about your legs,” he said, and wrapped an arm around her for support.
She hastily blinked away her tears and continued down the stairs, her mind turning to Iona. Their time together had been brief, but they had become fast friends. But she wasn’t given long to reflect on her days with Iona as she entered the hall with Conall. His soldiers turned and stared angrily at her.
She waited to feel their hate. Her lungs squeezed, but it wasn’t near as debilitating as before. She contributed it to the fact she wasn’t wearing the MacNeil plaid, either that or the fierce scowl on Conall’s face. It didn’t matter what stopped them, she was just delighted that something worked.
Conall didn’t stay long in the hall and ushered her outside. Once they were in the bailey, he placed her next to the wall. “Stay here,” he ordered, and turned to begin to practice with his soldiers.
She became mesmerized by the play of his muscles in the morning sunlight as he swung his sword as if it were an extension of his arm. He moved with the grace of a horse and the strength of a lion.
It took only seconds to best his men yet there were no harsh feelings when he did. She couldn’t stand there and not compare this training to MacNeil soldiers. There, the MacNeil commanders would ridicule and torment anyone who couldn’t disarm them.
There was hardly a day that went by that a soldier wasn’t killed during their so-called training. Her legs began to ache from standing so long. She slowly lowered herself to the ground with the help of the wall and was surprised to find this gave her a better view of Conall.
The sound of someone approaching drew her attention. She grudgingly dragged her gaze from Conall to find a very old man standing beside her. His beard was matted and what hair was left on his head was solid white. He had also seen battle by the scar that ran across his face. She followed the scar and found half his ear gone.
“Like that scar, do ye?” he asked, a sneer on his wrinkled face, showing toothless gums.
She swallowed. “It looks as though it caused tremendous pain.”
“Do ye know who put it there?”
“Nay.” And she didn’t want to know.
“The MacNeil hisself, though he was just a lad at the time. His father was still alive. It wasn’t until after he became laird that he slaughtered my family.”
Bile rose in Glenna’s throat. What had made her think she wanted to know what MacNeil had done? “I don’t wish to hear any more.”
“I’m sure ye’re wantin’ to know how I know it was him.” He cackled and pointed a gnarled finger at her. “Because I watched him do it. Me wife was heavy with child and my two sons were just babes. Just babes,” he cried.
She scooted away from him, her heart screaming for him to stop. But he wasn’t through.
“What kind of man kills women and babes? A butcher. That’s who. Yer da’s a monster, same as ye!”
“Enough,” roared Conall as he came to stand beside her.
But she couldn’t take her eyes off the old man. He still wore his grief, and she could well understand why. How she wished MacNeil wasn’t her father. She would do almost anything to change the past.
“Glenna.”
She jerked her eyes from the old man to Conall. “Why did you stop him? I thought you wanted me to learn what my father has done.”
“Not like this,” he said after a pause. He held out his hand to help her stand. “Come, it’s time I dealt with some clan business.”
She waited while he dunked his head in the water trough and splashed some children with water. It amazed her that he was so gentle and kind to the children. MacNeil had never even spared one a glance.
Could everything she had been reared to believe be wrong? She knew in her heart that Conall was a good man. Anyone who treated children with such decency and honesty had to be a good man. Even the animals liked him, and didn’t they have the ability to know when someone was evil?
She had already seen vast differences between Conall and MacNeil, and she knew there were many more. Conall gestured for her to follow. Her feet were heavy as she trailed him into the castle to the great hall. When two men came in and began to haggle over a pig, she let her mind drift.
Until an older woman walked up with a warm smile. Glenna smiled back, eager for a friend. The woman walked with a slight limp, and Glenna saw that she was missing her left pinkie finger.
“I wondered if I’d get a chance to talk to ye,” the woman said, her smile soon replaced by a sneer.
Glenna’s gut pooled with dread. She knew before the woman opened her mouth she had no wish to hear what she had to say.
“You’re the MacNeil’s brat. Finally you’re here so I can slit your throat like he did my husband. I’m not sure if I cou
ld get one of the men to rape you like he did me.”
“Please,” Glenna begged, desperately wanting her to stop.
“Please?” the woman gasped. “I begged him, and all I got was my finger cut off, my belly full with his child and my entire family to bury all because the laird’s mother chose another man rather than the MacNeil’s father.”
Glenna swallowed the bile in her throat. “You had his babe?”
The woman cackled. “I wouldn’t bring the devil into the world.”
“You killed an innocent child?”
“Nothing that comes from the MacNeil is innocent,” she spat. “Your time is comin’. Our laird may have put you under his protection, but there are ways of going around that.”
Glenna watched her walk away and tried to calm her breathing. A hasty look around confirmed others had not only heard the woman but also agreed with her.
She shook from fear but sought to appear calm. The woman was right. There would come times when Conall wasn’t around, and she knew they would kill her even if she was innocent of any crimes.
Not totally innocent.
She ignored her conscience and the people around her to focus on the soothing lilt of Conall’s voice as he solved the many problems of his clan. It wasn’t until the day was almost gone and she once again stood outside while Conall inspected some horses that she noticed a little girl with beautiful black hair staring at her.
Glenna offered a smile and was surprised to find the child walking toward her. When the girl stopped in front of her, Glenna went down on her haunches and bit her lip to stop the cry of pain she almost let slip. She gasped when she found herself staring into familiar eyes.
“Hello,” the little girl said. “My name is Ailsa.”
“What a lovely name. I’m Glenna.”
“I like that name,” Ailsa said. “Where did you come from?”
Glenna looked down at the small hand on her arm. “From far away,” she finally answered.
“Are you staying here now?”
“For a time.” Movement caught Glenna’s eye and she looked to find Conall talking with Angus. When she looked back at Ailsa, the little girl had backed away.
“Where are you going?”
“I was told to stay away from the laird.”
“By who?”
Ailsa lowered her eyes and shrugged her shoulders.
She took hold of Ailsa’s hands. “Who told you to stay away from Conall?”
“Glenna,” Conall called.
She looked to him then to Ailsa. “Have you ever met him?”
“Nay,” Ailsa shook her head of raven curls. “And I mustn’t.”
Determination filled her. Conall didn’t know he had a child, and there was no mistaking those eyes. Ailsa was his, and she was going to make sure he knew it. Today.
“Do you trust me, Ailsa?” she asked, holding out her arms.
After a moment’s hesitation, she answered, “Aye.”
“Then come with me.” She lifted Ailsa in her arms and strode to Conall, ignoring the agony in her legs.
He smiled as she neared. “I see you made a friend. What’s her name?”
Glenna’s breath came faster and faster, her heart beating fiercely in her chest. “Ailsa.”
“What a pretty name for an adorable child,” he said, and tweaked Ailsa’s nose.
She squealed with laughter before ducking her head in Glenna’s neck.
“Look at her,” Glenna told him.
“I have. She’s a sweet child.”
“Nay. Look at her,” she said again, and raised Ailsa’s face. “Take a look at her eyes, and tell me why she was told to never to go near you.”
Glenna heard his sharp intake of breath when he gazed into his own eyes. “God’s blood,” he hissed, and took Ailsa into his arms. “Who’s your mother, lass?”
Ailsa shrugged. “I made her die.”
Pain flashed in Conall’s eyes when he looked at Glenna. “Come,” he told her and Angus as he carried Ailsa into the castle.
She was surprised at Angus’ silence, but one look at his slack-jawed face let her know no one had known of Ailsa. She followed Conall into the solar and took a chair opposite him. Ailsa slid from his grasp and climbed onto her lap.
“Ailsa, you’ve got to tell me your mother’s name,” he begged, anguish deepening his voice as he braced his elbows on his knees.
“Mary MacBeth.”
He closed his eyes and let his head drop. “Well, I know who told you to stay away from me,” he murmured.
Glenna enfolded Ailsa in her arms. “Why did they want you to stay away from Laird Conall?”
“They’d never tell me.”
Haunted silver eyes rose to Glenna. “I owe you,” Conall said before he turned to Angus. “See to it that Frances MacBeth is told that I now have my daughter, and she’ll be reared here. I also want to know why they kept her away from me.”
“I’ll send someone to get Ailsa settled,” Angus said before he left the solar.
Glenna gave Conall a smile to let him know he was doing the right thing, but it wasn’t until a servant came for Ailsa that he spoke.
“For five summers I’ve been deprived of my child. Why would they do that?”
“I have no idea.”
He rose and paced the room before stopping in front of the narrow window to look out over the bailey. “I don’t think I can ever repay you for seeing what others haven’t.”
But she knew of one way he could. “Don’t return me to MacNeil.”
Conall’s dark head slowly turned her way. “You ask the impossible.”
* * * * *
Glenna’s day didn’t end after Ailsa’s discovery as she would have liked. She had hoped to have another quiet supper in her chamber, but Conall had other ideas. He had requested her presence, and the thought of having to endure another round of hatred wasn’t something she intended to do.
“Nay,” she stated, and walked to her window.
His eyes burned like liquid silver. “You will sit beside me this night. No more hiding in this room.”
“I’ve been by your side all day, just as you requested, and I have no desire to have my life threatened again.”
“Who threatened you?” he asked, the worry and anger evident in his creased forehead.
She stopped short of rolling her eyes. What had gotten into her? She had a rebellious streak women weren’t meant to possess, and years with Alisdair MacNeil had tamped down any resistance she might have. Until she had met Conall. Never would she have dreamed of talking this way to MacNeil.
“It doesn’t matter,” she finally answered.
“It does or you wouldn’t have mentioned it. Now tell me.”
He was a man used to getting his way, and it was time someone refused him. “I made it up.”
Immediately he took the last remaining steps to stand in front of her. “You didn’t lie, and whoever did it scared you mightily.”
The fact he had hit upon the truth stunned her. The fight went right out of her when she saw the concern in his eyes. She lowered her eyes and shrugged her shoulders.
“Tell me about the feud between our families?” she asked, needing a change of subject.
He sighed. “It seems your grandfather was constantly looking for a wife. Your grandmother died giving birth to your father.”
“I never knew that. MacNeil never talked of anything to me.”
“For years your grandfather searched for a wife. He fell in love with another woman, but she chose the laird of the Sinclairs. After that, your grandfather just wanted a wife. He asked for my mother’s hand, but she refused. The feud began when he heard that she had chosen my father.”
There were no words that would ease the pain of seeing fellow clan members die.
“Let me stay here.”
“Nay. I need for the clan to see you.”
“Don’t you even care what I want?”
“I will protect you.”
Pighead
ed. “You aren’t always near.”
He smiled and it nearly melted her heart. “Which is why I will keep you beside me.”
Glenna knew she could stand here all day and argue but she still wouldn’t win. He had set his mind on it and would do whatever was needed to see it through. She took his offered hand.
She inhaled deeply and raised her head as she stepped into the hall. Conall guided her to the dais and sat her down beside Angus while he took the other chair. She had just taken her seat when people began to file in.
The hall overflowed with the MacInnes clan and every eye turned to her. She was on display, and if she thought the effect of the forty MacInnes warriors who had leveled their hatred at her was dreadful, then she was sure she would die this night.
Loathing. Disgust. Hatred.
The emotions directed at her pinned her to the chair, unable to lift even a finger. Her chest pinched painfully and the room began to spin, but she tried to make her eyes focus.
She scanned the room for the one who directed the most hatred, but there were too many people. With a crowd this large the roar of conversation would have been deafening, but there were no boisterous laughter or curses.
Whispered words and looks thrown her way greeted any person who ventured into the hall. Blackness began to close in. She concentrated on her trencher in an effort to keep it at bay.
Conall sighed and knew he shouldn’t have made Glenna sup in the main hall, but he had liked having her beside him. He had been surprised at her refusal, but liked the idea that she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.
He looked over his clan and was ashamed. Glenna wasn’t the villain, but being the daughter of the villain made her as much of one.
An elbow in his ribs drew his attention. He turned and found Gregor glaring at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Are you so blind you don’t see what’s happening to Glenna?” he asked, appalled. “Again.”
Conall studied Gregor for a moment before he turned to Glenna. Her skin was nearly gray and a fine sheet of sweat covered her face. He had seen her look this way once before.
“Glenna,” he whispered. He kept his head down so as not to draw attention to her.
