Fianna Leighton - Tales of Clan Mackay

by Return to the Highlands

  The Bruce studied Nicholas intently, silent for so long people began to murmur curiously. Nichols remained stoic and silent, waiting for Robert to speak.

  “Have I dragged this on long enough?” Robert’s amused whisper made Nicholas flinch slightly, lifting his gaze to meet the King’s once more. The Bruce lifted a brow as Nicholas formulated the correct answer. Sutherland settled behind Robert, his gaze although respectful of the King, still held an air of malevolence when it touched on any of the Mackay. Nicholas wanted to strangle both men, but bowed his head instead.

  “I do only as you please, my lord.”

  Robert nodded regally yet his lips curved in amusement. “Ingenious answers, Nicholas, when you are certainly more inclined to hit me for making you wait on news of your wife. You will have to wait a moment longer.” He moved past Nicholas to stand in front of Hugh. “Where is your wife, lad?”

  “I fear she met with an unfortunate accident,” Hugh replied, his voice cold, his expression one of loathing.

  The Bruce touched his fingers to his lips. Nicholas glanced between Hugh and the King, wondering just what Robert intended. The King had every right to imprison Hugh if he felt the Mackay’s actions were unwarranted. Unproven as Branwen’s claim to the Welsh nobility was, it was still rumored widely that she was kin to the Prince of Wales. To allow her death without any questions or inquiry might cause trouble with relations between the two countries. Of course, Hugh had not cared about that, nor did he care now.

  Robert smiled faintly as if coming to a decision. “It is a pity to lose her before she could be questioned more fully. I have been told she had her fingers in a few plots with your enemies.” He glanced over the crowd watching with a frown. “Macleod, Mackenzie, even…” he turned toward the Earl of Sutherland, “my friend De Moravia.”

  Hugh stared straight ahead and answered stiffly. “Aye, it seems she did.”

  “So she deserved punishment-- was death required?”

  “Aye.”

  The Bruce nodded, seeming to accept Hugh’s explanation. “I leave clan politics to you then. I have heard her transgressions, her manipulations, and even rumors of witchcraft. Perhaps it is best she is no longer with us.”

  Hugh bowed in respect with a hand to his brow. “Your Grace.”

  Robert returned to stand in front of Nicholas. He clapped a hand to Nichola’s shoulder. “I admire your patience, lad.”

  Nicholas struggled to control his temper, to appear impersonal. Robert knew him too well to be fooled however, by any answer but the truth. “Not so much patience, my lord, but more respect due a man I call King.” This meeting confounded him, left him impatient to be able to confront Sutherland directly. It would not do, however, to press issues before the Bruce. There would be time later for Sutherland. The man had taken Mary and deserved to be punished for the action, Earl or not. Nicholas gritted his teeth as the Bruce remained in front of him.

  Robert smiled briefly and then lifted his hand. “Your wife has not been harmed. Sutherland merely followed my orders, Mackay, to bring her to Samhain. While I did not intend bloodshed in order to do so,” he added with a scowl at the Earl, “it is done. You ask why?” The Bruce sighed and then looked past Nicholas to the crowd behind him. “We fight for what is ours. My reign has not been easy; even I have had to fight for what is rightfully mine before facing our greater enemy in the English. I cannot lose men I need,” Robert continued dryly, “to any further highland politicking, no matter how long the feud.”

  Nicholas knew Robert’s desires would not stop the Highlanders from fighting clan to clan. But he bowed his head in respect, accepting the unspoken order to hold his temper and put aside the retribution he might have had.

  The Bruce smiled and then returned his gaze to Nicholas, the dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “She is a bonny lass, Nicholas, I can see why you hold her so dear.” He gestured and Nicholas turned to look over his shoulder. All effort to breathe was suspended for a long moment as he watched Mary push her way through the curious watching, her hair a bright beacon to mark her passage. People moved aside, smiles and laughter followed her as she hurried toward him. Nicholas couldn’t move, locked into place by the sight of her. All the anger and frustration faded in the face of his sudden need to hold her, to ascertain that she was truly well and unharmed. Freed of his immobility by the thought, he strode rapidly the few steps left between them. He gripped her shoulders when they met to stare at her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked in a low voice.

  Mary looked up, her blue eyes wide with apprehension. “I am unharmed, as the King intended.” Nicholas’s heart slammed painfully inside his chest. He had shut her away, had meant to be cold, to distance himself from her. Yet looking at her he knew he could never let her go. He caught her in his arms to lift her above him, his heart hammering so hard that he felt lightheaded at seeing her. He pulled her against him to crush her lips beneath his, a kiss that spoke of his need, of his fear. He tasted her, drank in her sweetness, nearly oblivious of the crowd’s amusement, kissing her and then kissing her again. When he finally let her go she sighed and pressed her face against his chest..

  “Oh Nicholas,” Mary muttered, her voice muffled by his shirt. Nicholas slid his hands behind her neck and kissed her hair. He looked up to find the Bruce watching them intently.

  “Well, glad I am to see she does really like you,” Robert declared, laughing. “I wondered if it was all told to appease me, but I see not.”

  Nicholas wrapped his arm around Mary’s shoulders to hold her close. “Aye, I believe she still does. I thank you for keeping her safely.” He smiled stiffly at the Bruce.

  Robert’s eyes met his, glinting suddenly as if he knew the lie in Nicholas’s words, the anger wrapped within the statement. He clapped a hand to Nicholas’s shoulder. “Oh, not at all, boy, Sutherland does as I ask, if somewhat unwillingly. I do know there are tensions between you.” Robert turned toward the Earl seated behind him expectantly.

  Sutherland only grunted and drank deeply of the ale in his hand.

  Robert grinned, unperturbed. He pulled Nicholas forward with an impatient hand and caught Donald’s elbow as well as they swept past the chieftain.

  “So come, let us celebrate the harvest,” the Bruce commanded. It was an order however put. The King held up his arms, his voice carrying easily over the crowd. “Let us gather in friendship this day, with all feuds put aside. Drink and be merry,” He waved them inside the pavilion tent while pipers began to play outside. Bastian bowed his way out after a brief glance at Donald. Robert had no intention of letting Nicholas free as he pointed at a bench. Nicholas sat down and pulled Mary down beside him. A servant brought wine for her, but Nicholas waved away the drink.

  Robert sank into a large chair with a pleased sigh. “Well, speak your mind, Mackay. We are private as possible here. Sutherland is away for the moment.”

  Donald leaned forward to stare at the king. “I lost good men to Moravia’s temper.”

  Robert nodded in commiseration. “Aye, ‘twas an unfortunate thing. I will see any family they had taken care of out of my coffers, of course.”

  Donald sat back, appeased. “This does not end the fact that the Sutherlands and Mackays do not get along.”

  Robert laughed softly. “I did not expect it to change how you feel toward each other. I do however, expect you to abide by my wishes that you refrain from fighting over this, at least for the time being. Sutherland was acting on my behalf, any ill feelings should be held toward me.”

  Nicholas almost smiled at the comment, for Robert, as King knew he was due respect, yet he still was no fool to believe everyone loved him because of it. The Bruce sipped his wine, his gaze moving between Donald and Nicholas almost as a challenge to argue the point.

  “We will seek nothing further,” Nicholas agreed, after meeting his father’s gaze. “But should he transgress further, my lord, I cannot nor will not hold to that promise.”
/>   “Fair enough,” Robert replied. “So, I expect you will wish some time with your new bride.”

  Nicholas glanced down at Mary, who had sat silently for the whole time, curled against his shoulder. “Aye, but I do as you command, my lord.”

  ***

  Mary curled up against Nicholas so she could wrap her arms around his neck. She didn’t want to let go, afraid he’d disappear and she’d wake still shut inside their room. The music was real, however, Sutherland had indeed taken her from Varrich, but not as she expected, to do harm.

  He had been polite. He had made no mention of Robert Bruce’s commands, only that she was to stay until he ordered otherwise. She was placed in a lovely room full of windows only after promising not to escape. Fearing Sutherland’s reprisal, she had agreed. For Ann, for Donald, especially for Nicholas, who she thought would never come for her again.

  But she had been wrong. Oh so wrong.

  Mary tucked her chin into his neck to hide the tears that threatened to fall. He had come back for her.

  Nicholas held her tightly with an arm around her back while he sipped a dram of whisky. He did not ask her questions, but allowed her to snuggle with him without reservation. Donald sat nearby. Bastian had left for Varrich and Hugh had retreated to disappear into the crowd of revelers. Highlanders were dancing outside to the pipes and a violin calling a reel.

  Nicholas had asked her if she wanted to dance.

  She did not.

  He had smiled and nodded, and then settled her on his lap. Donald did not seem to mind. Sutherland approached them warily. “All ends well?” he surmised, bowing slightly as both Mackays looked at him suspiciously.

  Nicholas tightened the arm behind her back as he answered the Earl. “Aye, so it seems,” he replied coldly. Mary could feel his tension, knew it was only by Robert’s decree that Nicholas held his temper.

  The Earl sipped the wine he carried, his gaze shuttered. “Robert declares should we have more men like you, Mackay. He said we’d frighten off the English without a shot fired between us.” The man laughed sourly, a frown marring his expression. “You have heard they have acquired new weapons?”

  Nicholas’s hand dropped to Mary’s thigh. She held her breath, her skin tingling beneath the weight, his body stiff beside hers. He answered casually enough, at odds with the tension he controlled so tightly. “Cannon, they call it. A deadly thing, although nigh as dangerous to those who fire the damn things as those they fire at. They toss in nails or whatever is at hand to do the killing.”

  “A distance weapon, they say it will change the art of war,” Donald complained. He shook his head. “It would be an end to war if they would have their way, boasting that none can defeat such a powerful weapon, but that has been said of many new things.” Donald’s smile did not reach his gray eyes.

  “Times change, things move on,” Nicholas agreed. “Will you fight, Sutherland?”

  The Earl shrugged. “Of course, I am the King’s man. We will all fight eventually.” He touched his brow briefly. “But I apologize for interrupting your conversation.” He bowed and then moved away.

  Mary returned her head to Nicholas’s shoulder, content to sit in his lap, but uneasy still about the Earl. Nicholas relaxed once Sutherland retreated, draining the remains of his whisky.

  “Why did he take me Nicholas?” she asked, taking advantage of the momentary silence after Sutherland’s departure. “I know ye spoke at length with Robert after we went inside the pavilion, but I still do not understand.”

  Nicholas pressed his lips to Mary’s temple. “He was asserting a certain authority. Clan politics as they are, Robert hoped Sutherland’s intervention would defuse the tensions between the Macleods and Mackay.” Nicholas peered into his empty glass, pausing for a moment before he continued. Donald was silent. “He cannot afford to lose men, especially nobility when he needs all the hands he can get to fight the English. Losing Macleod, even a worthless cur as the man is, would be detrimental in his mind. Our feud gets in his way,” Nicholas continued in a flat voice. “What he did not expect was for Moravia to take it as far as he did. I am sure the Earl was quite pleased with his role and used no discretion in killing a few of our men in the King’s name. As it is, he is still lucky to have his head, by both Robert and me.”

  Donald chuckled. “Nicholas still harbors a bit of resentment.”

  Mary looked at them both, noting the similarity of features, the glint both carried in their eyes. Things would not be explained away so easily.

  “Robert has his reasons,” Nicholas continued. “Perhaps it was a test of our mettle, perhaps a test of his authority in being able to prevent bloodshed between us.” He shook his head with a faint growl and then threw the glass. It shattered violently against a tree. “At any rate, if Sutherland even looks at you again, I will slit his throat.”

  Mary shivered at the finality of Nicholas’s statement.

  ***

  The second night of the celebration brought Bastian and Hugh back, arriving with Ann in tow as well as Fiona, Rory and Rose, who trailed behind nervously, nearly hidden beneath a thick hooded cloak. Nicholas settled in his seat, waiting for them to approach. Donald turned from a group of men and strode across the clearing, intent on his wife. He stopped suddenly when he spied Rose, while Ann tucked herself under his arm.

  Sebastian drew Rose in between them, held protectively within the circle of his arms. “She’s not leaving.”

  Donald slowly tilted his head to look at Rose. He drew the edge of the hood back and then arched a brow in amusement. “This only makes things interesting,” he said dryly.

  Rose lifted her chin defiantly. “I did not want to come but Bastian insisted.” She swallowed and looked back at Sebastian. He nodded in agreement, challenging Donald to speak further.

  Ann gripped Donald’s arm, her fingers tight as he sighed. “Ah, leave go, Donald. ‘Tis Samhain, we get little enough time for pleasure these days. Bastian has promised to keep her hidden as well as he can.”

  “And if she is recognized?” Donald complained.

  Rose met his gaze firmly. “I will not be, I promise to keep as far from any Macleods as I can. I willna’ dance either, just to be sure.” She said it wistfully, her gaze shifting to the laughing crowd behind them.

  “It’s a dangerous game you play, son.” Donald grinned and dropped a hand to Sebastian’s shoulder. “Keep her safe, hear me. She is still under my protection.” He glanced around the meadow, to the groups gathered, and then returned his gaze to Sebastian. “Things are already tense, lad. Have a care that she does not fuel the fire once again.”

  “I thought perhaps it might settle things,” Sebastian teased, grinning as Donald rolled his eyes. “Think on it, Da. Marrying a Macleod makes us clan.

  “Ach, lad, this is not done yet. Until Macleod knows the truth of the matter, nothing, even your taking his lass, will draw him from his intent. She’ll only make matters worse.”

  “’Tis already done,” Sebastian reminded his father. “I’ll not send her back. Torquil beat her and for that I will take revenge at some point. Until then, she has my full protection.”

  Donald’s lips curved faintly. “Aye, and that of all the Mackay if this is what ye choose.”

  Sebastian nodded shortly. “Aye, it is.”

  “Well then,” Donald shifted his gaze to Nicholas. “Perhaps ye should remove to some dark corner and keep her there.”

  Rose reached out to touch Donald’s arm. “I know this is not what ye would like, my lord.”

  Donald looked at her hand and then covered it with his own. “I trust my son’s judgment even if I do not agree with his timing.” He frowned and looked around again. “But this is not the place to announce yerselves to Macleod. The truce here is a tenuous one, by Robert’s decree as well as tradition. Ye should not be here.”

  “I would not leave her at Varrich alone,” Bastian complained, clearly ready to battle his father.


  Donald, however, waved a hand to calm Sebastian. “I would not wish that either, and realize ye had little choice with yer loyalty to Nicholas. It is a unified front we must maintain even here. But ye must keep her out of sight, Bastian, for her sake as well as ours.”

  Rose pulled her hood further over her head. “I am sure we can find a wee corner to remain unobserved.”

  Donald smiled and winked at Bastian. “I am sure, lass. Macleod will focus on Nicky if my guess is correct, and we’ll keep him at that. Anything further will be discussed once we are returned to Varrich.” The chieftain sent a stern glance at Bastian. Nicholas smiled. Even if not voiced aloud, Donald would have something more to say on the matter.

  Twilight crept over the festival. The Highlanders lit a great bonfire to celebrate. The hour was late when Nicholas finally had Mary to himself, although they weren’t alone. They stood still among a throng of dancing, laughing men and women.

  Nicholas touched Mary’s lips with his fingers. “So soft, I will never tire of kissing them,” he murmured.

  Mary smiled beneath his touch, her eyes wide. “Nicholas,” she began but he pressed his fingers against her lips.

  “I have one thing to say to you, wife.” He brushed a hand through her hair tenderly, admiring the sheen glinting against the firelight. He caressed her cheek and then grinned when a red-haired Highlander bumped them rudely.

  “Quit moonin’ over yer woman,” the man teased.

  “Be off with you, Jamie Frasier,” Nicholas declared with a wry glance at the Highlander. Jamie shrugged, winked at Mary, and then whirled the woman in his arms back into the dancers.

  Mary stared at Nicholas’s chest. He lifted her chin with his fingers and then leaned closer to press his lips against her cheek and then closer to her ear. He dropped his hands to grip her shoulders and then pressed a kiss to her hair. Finally, as she quivered beneath his touch, he made clear his demand. “You will never step between me and my enemy again, Mary.”