by Alisa Adams
She knew he would not welcome it. He was different now. Hard, cold, icy. Angry. He had lost his home, his lands. She could read the frustration and bitter disappointment in his face, in those piercing blue eyes that always unsettled her, made her stomach do little flips.
He was no longer the sweet, joyful boy she remembered. The boy she had fallen in love with. It was a man who stood before her now.
“There are reports that lights have been seen at Brough,” he said out of the blue, in a clipped voice, as he looked off into the distance.
Neely sat up straight, her mouth open in surprise.
“My sister Swan is happy here. McKay is a good husband. I am leaving. I am going to Brough to see what these lights are,” he said gruffly, staring off into the fields around McKay Castle.
Neely stood up quickly. “I am going too,” she said.
Steil whipped his head around to pin his steely blue eyes on her. “Ye will not be tagging along with me. Ye will stay here with Swan, and that traitorous woman that came with ye.”
Neely narrowed her eyes at him. “I willnae have to be tagging along with anyone to go home, least of all ye. And why are ye calling Kaithria a traiter?” she asked indignantly.
Steil looked hard at her, his brows furrowing. “I heard that the king's illegitimate son was hidden away in Brough, brought there by that woman Kaithria. ’Tis why Brough was destroyed,” he answered in a short, furious voice. “The king’s enemies were looking for that boy. I know that he is one of the boys that me sister Swan and the McKay have adopted as their own.” He continued to glare at Neely, daring her to say otherwise.
Neely swallowed hard. “Part of that ’tis true, he was at Brough, and is here now. Safe and protected within the McKay clan so no one can use him against the king,” Neely said. She raised her chin in defiance. “But Kaithria did not know this. And we dinnae know if he is the king’s own or Bonnie Prince Charlie's son. And we dinnae care!” Neely took a breath. “Laird Wolf said as much to the king in his missive to him. The king’s secret is safe with him. And if the boy is the Pretender’s son, the king cannae now admit he was lying when he told Wolf that the boy was his own and he actually wanted him for nefarious reasons,” Neely said firmly.
Steil stared down at her with ice in his blue eyes.
Neely did not like that look he was giving her. “He is just a wee boy!” she fumed, staring back at the big warrior in front of her. “Either way, the little boy will not be used in a game of power between either of them.”
Steil lifted the corner of his lips in a mock grin. “I dinnae believe Kaithria dinnae know,” he said caustically. “And as for the boy possibly being the Pretender’s son, if that is so, there are those that may still come for him.” Steil looked towards the large castle. “I do know the McKay willnae let anything happen to his own, that I am sure, and the king knows this as well, else he would have thrown the McKay into gaol for disobeying his order.” He turned his head and narrowed his eyes on Neely. “’Twas a dangerous choice the Wolf made, choosing me sister Swan and those boys over his duty to the king,” he said slowly and quietly, as he studied Neely from under his lashes.
“He chose love and family,” Neely said crisply.
Steil studied Neely. “A choice that would have got him hanged if he wasn’t one of the most powerful chiefs in the Highlands, and who has his own army.”
“A chief who serves his king loyally, as does his army. The king knows this. And knows he will protect and keep the king’s secret. Love is stronger than might,” Neely said in a firm voice.
“Ridiculous,” Steil said savagely. “Which of the three young boys is the one?” Steil asked sharply.
She stared hard at the cold man before her, her hands in fists at her sides. “I told ye, we dinnae know, and it doesnae matter. All of the orphans are McKays now,” she said curtly. “I am going back to Brough,” she said in a stern voice. “With ye or without ye, I care not, but I am going home.”
“Neilina Eunson! Ye arnae! From what I hear there is no home left,” he said brutally. His eyes were full of ice cold steel as he stared down at her.
“I want to go home,” she insisted through gritted teeth. “I need to know if me da has returned. Those lights could be him!” she said staunchly, holding her ground in front of this man who seethed with furious anger. “I understand yer anger—” she started to say.
Steil threw his hands up. “Ye understand?” he raged at her. “Ye think ye understand why I am angry? All I could think about in those bloody battles was home. When I held me wounded mates in me arms, there on the battlefield, and watched them die, I thought of home. As I watched their blood drain away while they cried for their mithers with their very last breaths, I thought of home. There was nothing I could do for them, nothing.”
He looked down at the ground, then up to the sky with a grimace of pain as if he wanted to rage to the heavens. “In the silence of the night, all the images and sounds of death on the battlefields haunted me. I turned inward to me memory and looked for the beaches of Brough. I saw the great black horses, peacefully grazing out in the green fields. I saw Brough Castle against a blue sky. It was me escape. I fought on. I held on. Because I just wanted to see home again. My mither died long ago, and then me da. Brough was all that I have left. Brough is the heart of me. The heart of the McKinnons.”
Neely watched the emotions flash across his face.
“Ye have yer sister, Lady Swan. She is yer family. Ye have her!” she whispered. He had not mentioned his sister in his memories, but then, she was so much younger than he...and had they ever been close? Of course, to him, perhaps she was just a female. But still, they were family! The horrors of battle had changed the sunny boy she used to know. She had to face that. She was just a simple lass and he the Lord of Brough Castle. She had always been beneath his notice.
But this anger of his. She did not know what to do. It made her angry herself. Just as angry as her father deserting her. Life made her angry right now, she had to admit. Bitter, resentful, unable to move forward without answers about her father, and Steil’s anger towards her just made things worse.
She crossed her arms across her chest, staring mutinously at him. She did not love him anymore. Not this angry, rude man. No, I do not love him!
Steil looked at the ground again. “Aye. I should have left Swan better guarded so she could have stopped the attacks, stopped what they did. Instead of running,” he said with a sneer, ignoring the sound of Neely's gasp. He looked at her. “Did ye make her leave Neilina Eunson? I know ye never liked me sister and thought she couldnae do the work it takes to be mistress of Brough.” It was an accusation.
Neely reeled backwards. “Niver liked her?” Her face grew red with anger. “Lady Swan and I are friends now. Good friends. We made it through all the attacks and the journey here by helping each other! When we were younger, perhaps we were nae friends, but yer sister was a fearful girl and kept to herself. And then she became the young mistress of Brough when ye left. A very good mistress of Brough.”
“Aye, but too young to lead Brough in those attacks,” he said as he turned away from her, his jaw tensed.
Neely put her hands on her hips. “Perhaps. But three attacks we endured, and Lady Swan led your men well. In the end there was nothing left of Brough. No food left. All of the village burned to the ground, save one or two cottages. We feared another attack.” She looked hard at him. “It was her choice to leave. And so we did. ’Twas the right choice. ”
“Would ye have stayed?” he asked curtly as he reeled back to face her again.
“I admit I wanted to,” she said, raising her chin again. “I was hoping me da would return. He ran during the first attack. That’s how bad it was.”
“’Tis shameful that he ran,” Steil said ruthlessly.
Neely nodded stiffly and continued. “I hoped that perhaps some of the villagers that had escaped would come back and we could rebuild.” She paused, her eyes looking anywhere but at him a
s she added, “Or that ye would return with an army to help us. But that hope, that wish of mine was folly,” she said quickly. “You would have had no knowledge of what was happening at Brough.” She raised her chin, watching as his face grew red with fury. Neely looked Steil fully in the eyes now. “Swan made the right choice Steil.” She caught herself. “Lord Greysteil,” she quickly added with a hint of derision. “Ye should be proud of yer sister, and shame on ye if ye arenae!”
Steil just studied her, his body still, frozen in anger. His jaw was tight, his lips thinned in a scowl. His blue eyes were lit with a fierce light as he looked down at her.
Neely raised her chin again. She knew he was furious. She had spoken out of turn, to the laird of Brough.
“I am going home,” she said with determination. “I think those lights mean me da has returned,” she said sadly. She desperately wanted to see her da, to speak to him. To ask him why. “Me da is the only family I have,” she tried to explain without breaking down into tears. “And family is everything, more than land or a castle that sits on that land. Home is yer family. Not a place. I have to find him! Though Swan has welcomed me into the McKay family clan, I need to know if me da is alive or dead.” She took a steadying breath as one lone tear ran down her cheek. “And if he is alive, why did he desert me in such dire circumstances?” Neely angrily swiped at the tear on her cheek and looked Steil steadily in the eyes. “So aye, I am going home to Brough to see about these lights.”
“Neilina Eunson ye willnae!!” Steil said, stepping forward. “It could be dangerous! It could be a group of warriors or thieves ransacking the place. Ye cannae fight robbers or thieves or warriors. ’Tis no place for a woman,” he ground out.
“Och then,” Neely said softly, and angrily. “Ye have no idea what women can do then, do ye?” With those ominous words, she whirled around and walked quickly back to McKay Castle.
She had some packing to do.
2
Neely sat upon her Friesian horse Mentieth. She was almost a full day’s ride away from McKay Castle where it sat overlooking the Kyle of Tongue. She was on her way back to Brough.
The heath spread out before her as she rode away from the rocky, tall, green hills overlooking the sandy, shallow waters of the Kyle to the flatter roads that wound through the small hills and shallow valleys along the western coastline of Caithness. She was trying to avoid the peat bogs, as well as the peat bridges that they had encountered constantly when they left Brough. She knew there would be some ahead. It was inevitable. Caithness was full of areas with the brown water that hid just below the surface of the peat bogs. There were bog pools and streams here and there, warning one that they were in Flow Country, for the blanket bogs stretched as far as the eye could see to the north.
She frowned worriedly at a noise behind her, stopping for what seemed like the tenth time. She quickly turned around in the saddle to look down the road behind her.
Three women were there, stopped in the middle of the road. All three were on the great black Friesian horses like Neely’s own Mentieth.
Neely called back to them, “Girls! We really must keep moving!” When they didn’t respond she called out louder, “Do ye need to rest again?”
Two of the women turned and gave Neely a quick glance. Then their attention turned back to the third woman.
Neely studied the three women. They had insisted on coming with her. They were her friends, all that she had left in the world. Together they had made it out of the destroyed Brough Castle and now together, they were going back to investigate. Her friends knew she needed to know if her da was alive or dead.
Neely had been surprised, pleased, and humbled when they demanded she let them accompany her.
She looked back at them with a soft smile. But something was wrong. They were huddled around Lady Swan.
The black-haired, golden-eyed, quiet Kaithria in the red tartan skirt and black cloak, was on Dummernech, another older, retired, black Friesian battle horse she called Dummy. Kaithria was looking at Swan with great concern.
Lady Swan, the mistress of Castle Brough in her brother Steil’s absence during the terrible attacks, with her bright red hair and blue eyes was on her Peigi, the young black Friesian mare she was training. Peigi was the last of the Brough-bred black Friesian horses that had originally come to Dunnet Head from Friesland long ago. Her face was white as she held one hand to her stomach and the other to her mouth.
And Lady Cat McKay, younger sister to Laird Wolf McKay, Swan’s new husband, was on the Frisian battle horse Inchturfin, also called Old Inch. He was another old war horse from Brough. Lady Cat, whose unusually short and pale blonde curls were being ruffled by the breeze, was leaning toward Swan, her hand on Swan’s shoulder.
Kaithria twisted in her saddle to look at Neely again. Lowering the hood of her black cloak, she gave an urgent nod of her head.
Neely frowned worriedly and nudged her heels into Teeth’s sides and trotted back to them. Teeth’s large dramatic trot was bouncing her in the saddle, and her frown turned to almost a grimace.
Kaithria watched her as she approached. “Ye must learn to rise in the trot Neely,” she said quietly. “Then yer backside willnae be so sore. These horses have too big a trot not to post and rise in time with the trot unless yer hips are used to it.” Kaithria paused, studying Neely’s surprised face. She nodded towards Neely’s hips and said in her quiet and serious voice, “It looks like yer hips are vera tight.”
Neely gave Kaithria a half grin. “I liked ye better when ye didnae speak much,” she said drolly. “Me ain hips are fine. And I’ll rise at the trot when I need to, thank ye vera much. Remember, I am the only one of the three of us that hasnae been riding since I was a child! I am still learning.” Then Neely looked at the three of them huddled around Swan. “What is it? Is she sick again? I knew she shouldnae have come. Laird Wolf will be so upset.”
Swan had been looking down at her lap, taking slow, deep breaths. She glanced at Neely. “Wolf is away and will be away for quite a while. Ye are not going back to Brough to see who is there shining lights without me Neely.”
“Ye look puggled and puckled and vera green Swan. Are ye sure ye arnae sick?” Neely asked with concern.
Cat McKay had her hand on Swan’s shoulder. “She isnae sick,” she said, and smiled at Neely.
“I think she is sick,” Kaithria said quietly and firmly, with another glance at Swan.
“I am not sick,” Swan insisted, waving a limp hand in their direction as she took more deep breaths.
Cat reached into a pack on her saddle and handed Swan an oatcake. “Here, ye must nibble on this. I told ye it would be uncomfortable to ride. This is why I insisted I come with ye, to make sure ye are safe and healthy and then to get ye back to me brother before he turns Caithness upside down looking for ye.” Cat patted Swan’s shoulder gently. “It took him this long to find his love. I know he will be worried sick to come home and find ye are gone.”
Swan smiled weakly at Cat. “I know, and I will return as soon as we have answers. I am not planning on staying at Brough. I would never leave the children or me hound. They are safe with Beak and their nanny. But ye know as I do that me brother Steil, or me husband Wolf—or even Wolf’s friend Keir—would never have allowed me to go.”
“Or any of us for that matter,” Neely said. “Steil was adamant that we could not protect ourselves. Doesnae he know we fought thieves and robbers and evil warriors on our way to McKay Castle?” Neely tsked, then she peered intently at her friend. “Swan, why would he not let you go in particular? Are ye sure ye arnae sick?”
Kaithria added softly, “She has been heaving up her stomach multiple times today. Isnae this true, Lady Catriona?”
Cat looked at Kaithria in the dark red and black tartan skirt, and then to Neely, all in soft blue tartan with her long tawny hair which was coming loose from its braid. Both women were very concerned about their friend, Swan, Cat’s new sister-in-law.
Cat’s wide
green eyes studied the other women. She ran slender fingers through her short hair. She knew her hair made her look like a young boy. She preferred a ‘sprite from the forest’, as her brother had said, when she had scowled at him after he called her a young boy. She looked away from the other women’s glorious locks.
“Aye,” Cat said. “She has been retching and gagging all day. It gives me the boke meself.”
Kaithria nodded and said quietly, “Aye, expelling and hurling over the side of her poor Peigi.”
Cat patted Swan’s shoulder again. “’Tis true, spewing her morning brose all over the road.”
At Swan’s groan Cat said urgently, “She’s aboot to boke again, back away ladies!”
“I am not,” Swan said with some strength finally in her voice. “But it doesnae help me one bit to hear ye blethering every word imaginable to describe me poor stomach!”
“Aye,” added Neely. “I have never heard so many words that all mean to expel ones stomach—”
“Neely!” Swan complained.
“Ye must be sick. We must return to McKay, Swan,” Kaithria urged softly in a low tone.
Cat shook her head in earnest. “Och no, this is what happens, I am told. It will pass. Though ’tis a bowfing, boggin smell when she heaves up her stomach,” she added with a mischievous grin.
Neely started to say something but then she gasped as Cat’s meaning dawned on her. “Bi crivens, are ye with child Swan?”
Swan looked at Neely and gave a small, sickly smile.
