“Donald if ye please. Well, tis glad I am of that. My sight is nearing a blur these days. Sebastian will need a keen eye if he’s to continue as Laird.
Rose blinked and then looked curiously at Donald. “Sebastian can handle the accounts just fine, he’s a quite head for such things Ann said.”
“Aye, but close things as this are worse for him than I.”
Rose stared at Donald in surprise. “He can’t see?”
“Oh well enough he thinks, for the most part, but small lettering as this…” Donald shrugged.
“Tis said there are things that can help, but I’ve not seen them,” Rose offered.
“Aye,” Donald agreed, closing the book to his lap. “But can ye imagine a son of mine admitting to such a weakness?”
Rose smiled in amusement for she could certainly not. “So his wife should have such learning to aid him then?”
“Aye, ‘twould make matters much easier for the lad. I am glad ye can.”
Rose colored under his scrutiny. “I did not think ye decided, sir.”
“Donald,” he corrected. “Aye, I’d decided quick enough. “Tis only a matter of seeing how determined my son is that I have not said anything.”
Relief made Rose nearly faint. Her lip trembled as she caught Donald’s hand with hers. “I will make him happy, Donald Mackay; ye have my word on it.”
“The word of a Macleod?” Donald chuckled as she stiffened. “I’d trust that well enough, even if we do not cater to the likes of yer clan. Ye have shown yer mettle, lass. Torquil beat ye more than once I’d say, would be a nice bit of revenge to pull ye into my clan.”
Rose blushed at the words and then kissing Donald on the cheek, hurried back to the stairs. Climbing the steps silently, she smiled. Bastian would be a happy man if he knew, but she wouldn’t tell. No it would be Donald, but when was still in question.
***
Nicholas, Rory and Hugh left Varrich early, before light, to ride swiftly south along the Strathnaver, past Loch Naver, and then further south to the borders of Mackay land. They stopped in a small copse of trees that bordered a stream cutting through one of the many glens. Hills rose sharply beside them, rocky and tufted with long grass the moon light gilded silver. Nicholas dismounted. Rory rode to the edge of the wood, his bulk nearly dwarfing the sturdy highland stallion. “News travels fast,” Rory commented.
“Aye, to hear that your brothers are only days away was quite a surprise,” Nicholas snorted. “I have to think you’ve been planning something far longer than I thought.”
Rory turned around and slid off the horse. He let it graze, crouching down beside Nicholas. Hugh sat on a log, his thoughts turned inward, poking a stick at the ground. “Nay, but I have two brothers who tend to get bored quickly, and having little news of either of us, especially Mary, might have sent them northward.”
“Conveniently,” Nicholas added dryly.
Rory shrugged. “The Drummonds have good intuition, lad, a bit of seeing into the future if ye might.”
“Branwen did too, sometimes,” Hugh said suddenly. He looked ruefully at Nicholas. “Do ye remember when I found ye in Stirling? Ye’d left Varrich for nearly three years, and each time someone came up the road below, Donald would expect it to be you.”
The thought of it made Nicholas speechless. Donald had never been overly affectionate, although his sons were fully aware of his pride, in them and the clan. He nodded at Hugh. “I was at Stirling. We were fighting the English, hoping to hold the castle, but it fell despite all our efforts. You nearly were killed riding in when you did.” Nicholas looked at Rory and then shook his head. “He was far too young to be sent out alone as he was, good lord, what were you, Hugh? All of sixteen?”
“And Nicholas running,” Rory added sagely. “I met the Mackay at a pub in the village where we had a good laugh or two before the battle, a fine wench on our knees.” Rory sighed. “A good time, but damnable that we lost the castle.”
Hugh smiled in amusement. “Donald sent me to find Nicholas. We had word you’d been seen near there, and knowing the fighting was nigh getting fierce, I went to look for you, to bring ye home.”
“Foolish of Donald to send a boy,” Nicholas grunted.
“Ach, Nicky,” Hugh complained. “I was all of seventeen, a man in my eye, in my heart. It was perhaps my right to manhood to be sent with only a few Mackays to find my rebellious brother.”
“Aye as Bastian calls me,” Nicholas agreed.
“I found him there,” Hugh continued with a deep sigh. “We fought, as brothers do, with my righteous anger at him leaving the clan and Nicholas’s stubborn determination that he’d not fall prey to Donald’s commands no matter what they were.”
“Sounds about right,” Rory agreed, chuckling.
“But I met Branwen there as well. She’d been taken by the English, she said, but had escaped. She claimed she was related to Llywellyn Fawr.” Hugh’s expression grew poignant. “I didn’t care at the time who she was.”
Rory looked at him curiously. “That would have made her royalty, being related to the Welsh Prince. She never asked to go home?”
Nicholas finally spoke. “No, it was our first clue that she was not what she wanted us to believe.”
Hugh stared at Nicholas. “I know now my mistake in believing her, but I was young, Nicky.”
“Aye, headstrong and stubborn as are all of the Mackay,” Nicholas agreed. “I am sorry it ended so badly.”
“I am not. Ye never liked her, nor she you. Ye were her greatest threat, I think, for ye saw through her plotting, her deviousness.” Hugh stood up. “But that is over, she is gone. I only thank God ye came home, Nicky.” He said nothing more but held out a hand.
Nicholas stood and gripped Hugh’s hand and then pulled him close. “I am glad too.”
Rory wiped his eye and sniffed. “Tis enough to make a man cry,” he teased. He stepped back when Hugh shook his fist, warding off the blow, but then turned to look out into the woods. “Horses.”
Nicholas nodded and set off through the brush toward the road.
The riders rode at a fair pace, two men alone, cloaks drawn tight against the night chill, heads down. Steel glinted in the moonlight from behind the first man, while the second drew back at seeing Nicholas by the road.
“By god and the devil, lad, are ye trying to give us a fright?” Malcolm Drummond cried, unsheathing his sword to hold it out toward Nicholas.
Nicholas held up his hands. “Peace, Drummonds. You made good time.”
William dismounted and strode forward as Rory emerged from the trees, followed by Hugh. “Aye, the way was clear for most of the journey. We did pass the Earl of Sutherland, who looked at us quite intently, I’d say. Rumor has it the Bruce has been nearby as well.”
Rory clasped William’s shoulders affectionately, and then ruffled Malcolm’s hair. “Good to see ye, lads. You up to the task I’ve set ye?”
William looked at Nicholas. “I sense trouble brewing, Highlander. But then, with yer kind it never ends, does it?”
Nicholas smiled grimly. “Not often, but Mary will be pleased to see you.”
“How is the lass?” William asked.
“Taken in by the Highlander,” Rory declared, clapping Nicholas on the shoulder. “Mary is in good spirits most days, except when they fight.” He grinned.
Nicholas ignored Rory’s comments and led the way into the wood. “We have much to discuss, preferably here without interruption. We will have to keep you close. I don’t want any Macleod to associate you with the Mackays until necessary.”
William and Malcolm looked at each other and then grinned. “Ah, sounds like a bit of fun ahead, brother,” Malcolm said.
Rory chuckled and then grabbed both men to haul them into the woods.
***
Mary knew things were serious when Nicholas left before dawn. Standing in the hall near Donald late the next evening and with still no sign of Nichol
as or Rory had her fretting, twisting her hands into the sides of her skirt.
Donald looked up from his accounts. “They’ll all return, mark my words, lass.”
“How can ye be so sure? Bastian is annoyed they did not include him, and Fiona has no more idea where they went than I.”
“Which is just as well, ye can’t worry then, can ye, when ye don’t know.”
Mary leaned over Donald’s shoulder. “How can ye be so calm when yer sons are gone and may never return?”
“They’ll have told me if they meant mischief.”
She snorted, throwing her hands in the air. “They will not. Rory is terrible when it comes to such things. I can only imagine what they are doing!”
“Well stop imagining and sit down, wench. Ye make me dizzy pacing as ye are.”
Mary sat down abruptly. “Donald…”
“Hush. It does no good to worry.”
“But Donald!”
The Highland chieftain looked up, lips stretched thin as he grimaced. “An order, Mary Drummond Mackay, hush.”
Mary curled her knees up on the bench, resting her chin. Ann hurried down the steps with several blankets. “I fear we are going to be full tonight, husband.”
Donald looked up at her and then at the door as voices grew loud outside.
Mary sprang to her feet and ran across the hall as the door swung open. Nicholas strode in first, his eyes squinting at the brightly lit room, a flask in hand. Rory shoved him aside and then grinned at Mary. “Ah, lass, we’ve brought ye a present!”
“Drinking again?” Mary began and then squealed as two more men crossed the threshold into the room. “William! Malcolm,” Mary cried. She flung herself into William’s arms in glee while Malcolm chuckled and turned back to the door to haul Hugh inside as well. The younger Mackay weaved a few steps toward the table and then sat down with his head in his hands. Malcolm walked over to Mary, circling around her curiously. “Well, ye look happy enough,” he declared. He lifted her chin with his fingers to inspect her thoroughly. “No bruises, no marks anywhere?”
Mary punched Malcolm’s arm. “Nay, ye dolt.” She kissed his cheek and then hugged him. The remaining men sat down at the table, while Ann set aside her blankets to offer them the ale from the sideboard.
Hugh groaned and waved away the brew, earning him a knowing chuckle from Nicholas. “He has a short memory,” Nicholas explained with a leer at Mary. He leaned against the door with arms folded over his chest looking far too pleased with himself.
Mary placed a goblet of water in front of Hugh. “Is this why ye left?” She eyed Nicholas warily, noting the bundle at his feet.
Nicholas opened his mouth and then shut it, nodding. “Aye.” He held out the flask toward Rory. “They brought us all presents, lass, and, damn it, my armor!” He picked up the bundle from the floor to unwrap the fabric covering. Mary recognized the cloak she’d found at Bannockburn and inside, the remnants of Nicholas’s chain mail shirt. He held up the steel shirt with a grimace. “Glad to see and yet not,” he said, clearly reminded of just how close he’d come to death that day. His gaze swept over Mary briefly and then he turned to inspect the armor, leaving her chilled. What were they planning? She put aside her worries and settled beside William to listen how he’d found the armor and the decision to come to Varrich.
It was a good tale, with much waving of arms and boasting as her brothers tended to do, but underneath Mary could sense a current of determination that would not be deterred. Donald sat down at the end of the table and waved his pipe at the Drummonds. “It is good to see more of the Drummonds.”
Mary met Nicholas as he weaved toward the table, catching his tunic. “Why did ye not tell me?”
“And spoil the surprise?” He kissed her forehead and then sat down heavily.
Fiona sniffed as she went by, but smiled at the Highlander. Rose brought in a tray of food and set it on the table. Nicholas glanced at the woman and then leaned back to wink at Mary. “A good surprise, is it not?”
“Aye, but there is a bad smell to it all,” she muttered softly.
Nicholas wrapped his fingers around her arm and drew Mary toward him. His lips brushed her cheek, yet she shivered despite the caress. She could feel his tension, the rise of his anger. Looking up, she found his demeanor suddenly very sober, green eyes glinting icily. “We talked of this, lass.”
Mary swallowed and touched his fingers. Around them, the family continued their boisterous conversation. “Aye, and only note that I fear what ye do, Nicholas.”
“You must trust me, Mary.” He released her arm and then rose to his feet. William and Malcolm watched him intently. Mary wondered how much they had seen, how much they judged the Highlander. As if sensing their concern, Nicholas leaned down to kiss her cheek, his hand dropping to her shoulder. “Get your men something to eat; it’s been a long and weary ride for them. I thought to take them around the Mackay lands tomorrow.”
Mary knew he was lying. She said nothing and went to the kitchens for more food. She watched her brothers eat, talking to both Rory and Donald, while Hugh snored at the table. Bastian arrived soon after and sat down with Rose at the head of the table. Talk soon turned to matters of the keep, crops and such until Mary thought she’d go mad.
She left them and went to her room.
Standing at the window, Mary stared over the kyle below. The inlet stretched far beyond the keep and brought with it the smell of the sea. She leaned her elbows on the sill. What had Rory planned? William and Malcolm’s arrival was unexpected, and it hadn’t been long enough since the festival for Rory’s missive to have reached them.
So perhaps she was worrying over nothing. Perhaps Nicholas would remain at Varrich. Mary knew better. Instinct said he was planning something - something that might not bring him back. She drew away from the window, shaken by the thought.
Yet Mary knew she could not interfere. Whatever danger he intended to face would be done with or without her consent. She could only pray that he would survive.
The only thing she could do was leave him something to come back for, some measure that would sink into his thick highland skull that would be more important than clan politics. Mary poured water into the wash basin and stared at her wavering reflection. She knew what she had to do.
Mary washed, using the lilac soap her mother had made. She drew out her shift and pulled it on. She unbound her long hair and it fell nearly to her waist. Light blonde, it was a mark of the Norse blood deep in her bloodlines. Nicholas had rarely seen it down. She smiled at the thought.
She lit a few candles and banked the fire for the night.
Mary then climbed onto the bed and sat in the middle. She posed, pushing out one leg. Would a man find a woman’s ankle enticing? She pulled up her gown to study her ankle and then pulled the fabric higher to her knee. She wrinkled her nose and pulled the fabric up to her thigh. Nicholas seemed to like her thighs. She reclined back on the bed. Should she disrobe completely, offering him her body at once? She sighed and rolled over to her side, pulling the shift off one shoulder, then both shoulders. Foolish, she should just go to bed and forget him. She laughed at herself. Forget the Highlander? Never!
She closed her eyes to remember Nicholas in the pond, and then again when they had come together in the laundry. Their nearly violent encounter made her blush. So many emotions flowed between them, yet beneath all the anger, the fear, there had been more. A gentleness, a deep sense of something right between them. She sighed at the thought. Forget Nicholas when the man made her wanton and wicked, when all she could think about this night was getting him as quickly as possible into her arms.
Mary slid to the side of the bed with the thought that perhaps a naked woman in his bed might open the Highlander’s eyes to what he had at home. She had removed the shift from her chest, had the gown wrapped around her waist when she heard the door open. She clutched the fabric to her chest and then slowly looked over her shoulder.
“Nicholas, close the door.”
He did so, turning around to face the door for a long moment. “I am sorry, I was not aware you were dressing.”
“I wasn’t,” Mary said.
He turned around, his expression controlled, yet his eyes had darkened, lashes lowered as he looked at her.
Mary rolled over to lie on her stomach, her shift held carelessly against her chest. “Are ye done with my brothers already?”
“I am now,” he said thickly.
She smiled fully aware that Nicholas’s gaze was no longer on her face. “I see. And what are ye doing now.”
“Thinking very bad thoughts,” Nicholas admitted.
“Bad in what way, Highlander?”
Nicholas ran a hand through his hair. It had grown quite long and now lay below his shoulders. “Bad in that I could take you right here and now.”
She pushed off the bed, slowly to give him time to look, to hunger. “Ready that fast, lad?” She wanted him to do just that and held her breath when their eyes met.
“I am always ready whenever you are near,” Nicholas replied in a low voice.
The thought sent a wave of goose bumps down her back. Her nipples pebbled under her arm where she held her shift against her chest. “I would think ye have far more important things to discuss with my brothers.”
He shrugged and took a step closer. “They have come for a visit is all, Mary.”
She could have argued but didn’t want that kind of conversation between them. She cursed for mentioning them at all when Nicholas turned to the fire, stoking it back to life. “So ye’ll take them around? Ye can check in on Peg and then Wesley, if ye would.”
“Aye, I can,” he agreed.
“Will Bastian go as well?”
Nicholas began to untie the laces at his wrists. “Nay, not with Rose here. Besides, Donald needs to go over accounts. Harvest will be soon, we will need to calculate what will be needed to winter over.”
Fianna Leighton - Tales of Clan Mackay Page 29
