“Och, I’ve missed you, son,” Malcolm said, his voice breaking. He drew back and studied him. “You’ve filled out—matured.”
A small lass launched herself at him, wrapping her thin arms around his waist. Hunter patted the ginger-haired child clinging to him. “Tell me this is no’ wee Helen.”
“Aye.” She grinned up at him, her brilliant blue eyes twinkling. “’Tis me, Hunter. All grown up.”
He laughed. “Well no’ quite all grown up, I trow.” He lifted her into his arms and swung her around, reveling in the sound of her giggles and the feel of her arms around his neck. Setting her back down, he turned to his foster mother. “Lady True . . . Ma . . .” He swallowed against the tightness banding his throat and opened his arms, unable to say another word.
A gangly, brown-eyed lass hid behind True’s skirts, peeking up at him with a wary expression. His ma walked into his embrace. The little one followed, still clinging to her mother’s gown. Hunter closed his eyes and sucked in a huge breath. He sent his second mother wave after wave of love and happiness, and the same came back to him tenfold.
“Hunter,” she sobbed against his shoulder. “Welcome home.”
“I’ve missed you,” he murmured. Letting go of her, he crouched down to peer into his foster sister’s curious gaze. “You must be Sarah. You were but two when I left. I dinna expect you remember me, but I’m kin to you.”
Her face drew into an expression of deep concentration, and he laughed as her childish energy tangled with his. Her curiosity tickled his senses. “Och, we’ve another—”
True shushed him, just as Cecil nudged his way through the crowd. Hunter rose and hugged his foster mother once more. “Where are the boys . . . and Sky?”
“Sky is visiting her aunt Elaine and uncle Dylan, and the twins are fostering with the earl of Sutherland,” Malcolm answered, stepping closer. “We’ve sent word, but ’twill be a se’nnight at least before we can expect them.”
Hunter’s heart plummeted. He’d been traveling for what seemed like months to get home. He’d waited years to be with Sky, and now he’d have to wait yet another se’nnight or more? His jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists. Since setting foot upon Scottish soil, nothing had gone as he’d planned or envisioned, beginning with his unwelcome encounter with Madame Giselle. Nothing.
Frustration tore at him. Was it too late to find someone in the lists yet this eve? He wanted to strike out at something—to vent the pent-up restlessness and frustration. Taking a few calming breaths, he struggled to gain control over his emotions.
“Thomas went to Meikle Geddes with my parents,” Malcolm continued, clapping him on the back. “Our lad has always had a special bond with his great-uncle Robert, and he was sorely grieved when news of his uncle’s collapse reached us—as were we all.” Malcolm gestured toward Cecil. “And here’s your friend come all the way from Dumfriesshire to see you, lad.”
Hunter sensed the warning emanating from Malcolm and True.
“Be careful, Hunter,” True’s voice whispered through his mind, though she kept a smile firmly fixed upon her face. “I can’t put my finger on what it is about him that bothers me, but I’m certain he’s hiding something. He speaks the truth, but I sense there’s more to his presence than meets the eye.”
“There is much I must tell you.” He sent her an image of Madame Giselle before turning to Cecil. “What brings you to Moigh Hall, Sir Cecil?” Tieren and Murray came up to stand beside him.
“Aye, especially after taking yer leave from us as ye did, sneaking off in the wee hours without so much as a by-your-leave,” Murray huffed out.
Anger flared from Cecil, but he quickly tamped it down and bowed low. “I came to offer my apologies. ’Twas wrong of me to act as I did. As I said before, during our years together on the continent none of you has given me reason to doubt your word. I was fearful the night we came across that accursed fair. I’ve given the matter a great deal of thought since, and I realize that I acted irrationally and in a most unchivalrous manner. I wish to make amends.” He straightened and scanned the shoreline. “Where is Lady McGladrey? I owe her an apology as well, for I wronged her most grievously with my foul accusations.”
The last part of his speech felt . . . off. Hunter scrutinized the man. He sensed Cecil spoke truly. He did wish to apologize, yet like his ma had said, something murky lay hidden beneath his words. Ambiguity clouded the man’s intentions. “My uncle and his lady wife are acting as her guardians until we can find a way to return her to her family.”
Intense interest pulsed from Cecil, and an avaricious glint filled his eyes. “Is there a way to accomplish such a feat?”
His desire for personal gain came through quite clearly, and Hunter relaxed. ’Twas likely Cecil’s desire had naught to do with Meghan, and everything to do with finding a way to profit from traveling through time’s portal, or by forming some sort of association with the Tuatha Dé Danann. Foolishness. “No’ that we ken.”
Cecil’s expression sharpened with cunning. “Then how will you go about finding a way?”
“I’ve no’ given it much thought. Mayhap we can discuss it on the morrow. Right now I wish for naught but a hot bath, a meal and time with my family.” He put his arm around his two foster sisters’ shoulders and turned them toward Moigh Hall. “As you ken, we’ve recently received distressing news regarding my uncle’s health.”
“Och, of course.” Cecil bowed again. “Shall I see you in the lists on the morrow?”
“For certes. Your apology is most welcome, Cecil. I would no’ miss the opportunity to train with you once again.” Hunter clasped Cecil’s forearm briefly. “Until then, I must bid you good eve.” Watching the man’s retreating form, he hoped he’d not misread him. Cecil was foolish indeed if he thought dealing with the fae or traveling through time would bring him aught but trouble.
“Who is Lady Meghan? What was Cecil talking about?” Malcolm rested his hand on Hunter’s shoulder, his tone low. “He did no’ share with us his reasons for seeking you out, but said only that he wished to speak with you. I would like to have your impressions about him, lad.”
“Once I’ve eaten, bathed and changed out of these mud-encrusted garments, let us meet in the ladies’ solar,” Hunter said. “I wish to tell you what befell us on our journey before I share my thoughts about our guest.”
True disentangled his younger sisters from him and shooed them on ahead of them. “Of course. I’ll see to it that a meal is prepared and brought to you in your chamber. We’ve put you in your old room. Will that be OK?”
He hugged her close to his side. “I’d like nothing better. That chamber holds many a fond memory for me.”
“John, George and the lads have seen to stowing everything in the earl’s solar,” Tieren said, coming up beside him again. “We’re off to seek our rest. The lads and I will eat with the garrison. We’ll meet you in the lists at daybreak.”
“On the morrow then,” Hunter answered. “Allain,” he called to his page. “I have no need of you this night, but I will expect you to see you in the lists at dawn.”
“Aye, Sir Hunter,” Allain called back over his shoulder as he hurried to catch up with Tristan and Harold.
“I regret that we are no’ celebrating your homecoming with a grand feast as we’d like to have planned,” Malcolm said, “but with Uncle Robert so gravely ill, and with Sky and the twins far from home, ’twould no’ seem fitting.”
“We’ll have that welcoming feast once everyone is home,” True promised, giving his waist a squeeze. “I’ll have one of the nursemaids look after the girls tonight. Let’s spend some family time together, and you can tell us all about your adventures.”
He snorted. “Madame Giselle is at it again.”
“So I gathered.” True’s expression grew pensive, and she looked toward the west where the setting sun cast tendrils of orange, az
ure and gold across the horizon.
“I dinna suppose you’ve had a vision of what is to come,” he asked, a spark of hope igniting in his chest.
“Nope. Not a one, which means whatever is coming can’t be too bad. If something or someone were to threaten you, I’m certain one of us”—she canted her head toward her daughters—“would’ve sensed something.”
“Och, aye? I kent the bairns had gifts. That much was clear from the moment of their birth, but I did no’ imagine they would have visions.”
“Yes, and with the twins being gifted as well, poor Thomas is the only normal one in the lot.” True sighed.
“Nay,” Malcolm protested. “I’m no’ gifted in the least, so Thomas is no’ the only normal one in the lot.”
“Do not ever doubt that you have an overabundance of giftedness, my love.” True laughed and sent her husband an affectionate look. “Just because your gifts have nothing to do with the fae doesn’t make you any more normal than the rest of us.”
“Humph.” Malcolm’s mouth quirked up.
Warmth and contentment washed through Hunter, replacing the frustration of not finding Sky where he’d expected her to be—where she ought to be. “How is Sky Elizabeth? Did she ken I was coming home before she left to visit Elaine and Dylan? I sent word.”
“Nay, lad,” Malcolm answered. “Elaine, Dylan and their brood were here for a visit, and Sky departed with them a few days before we received the news of your return. Dinna fash. Once she learns of your homecoming, ’tis certain she’ll return as quickly as possible.”
A few hours later, bathed, fed and wearing a fresh plaid and a clean linen shirt, Hunter entered the ladies’ solar. He suffered a pang that only Malcolm and True were present. He longed to see everyone. Sadness and regret gripped him. If only he’d set out for home a se’nnight earlier, he would have arrived home before Robert fell ill.
“Here, lad.” Malcolm handed him an earthenware goblet filled with wine. “Have a seat by the hearth next to your ma, and tell us about this Meghan lass.”
“My thanks.” He accepted the goblet and took his place on the cushioned bench next to True. “Do you remember Uncle Robley and Aunt Erin mentioning the McGladreys from his sojourn to the twenty-first century?”
“Did they mention them?” True tilted her head as if trying to remember. “The name sounds familiar, but I don’t remember what was said.”
“Connor McGladrey befriended Robley. Connor too was taken from his time. He’s from thirteenth-century Ireland, and Meghan is his daughter.”
“Och, aye?” Malcolm handed True a goblet of wine, then took the seat opposite where Hunter and True sat.
He nodded. “’Tis why Robley took her to Meikle Geddes with him, and why he’s determined to assume guardianship over her. Robley feels it’s the least he can do for Connor, whom he still regards as a close friend.”
“How came you by the lass?”
“Madame Giselle,” True answered, patting Hunter’s forearm. “You’d best tell us the entire story, my boy. Maybe we can tease out a few clues as you go along.”
“’Tis my hope, Ma.” Hunter told them everything that had happened from the moment his band of knights came over the rise to find the fair, to Cecil’s accusations and hasty departure. “As far as my impressions of Cecil go, I believe he means to profit from Meghan’s situation somehow. Mayhap he still believes she will lead him to the fae, or that she is fae herself, and he wishes to form some sort of alliance. He seeks to gain something; that much is clear to me. Like you, I sense something lies hidden beneath his simple claim to make amends.”
“’Tis best we keep an eye on him then,” Malcolm said.
“Aye.” Then he told them what had happened upon the road to Aberdeenshire. “Meghan has had a difficult time of it since I took her from her father. I need to find a way to send her home. If I can discover Madame Giselle’s whereabouts, would you write her a message? I can present your letter as I speak with her on Meghan’s behalf.”
“Of course, but you know it won’t do any good. The Tuatha Dé Danann live by a different code of ethics, and we don’t factor into their decision-making process.” True’s expression filled with sympathy. “I haven’t spoken to her since the three of us went to see her in Inverness, and that was almost eighteen years ago.”
“What am I to do?” Hunter scrubbed his face with both hands. “I’m to blame for snatching her from her life. ’Tis my responsibility to see her safely home.”
“Wait and see, dearest.” True ran her hand over his shoulder and sniffed. “I’m so glad you’re home, Hunter. I worried about you all the time, and we’ve all missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you all as well.” He clasped his ma’s hand in his. “I dinna think wee Sarah remembers me at all.”
“Probably not. You haven’t even met Hannah Rose, Rob and Erin’s youngest.” She smiled. “Now that you’re home, you and the little ones can become acquainted.”
“Aye, Hannah’s a sweet lass,” Malcolm added. “’Tis good that our bairns have their cousins nearby. They’ve formed close bonds that will serve them well in the years to come.”
Puzzling over what Madame Giselle’s intentions might be where he and Meghan were concerned, Hunter nodded. His mind drifted to other things, like the way Meghan’s hair shone in the sunlight, and the way her eyes flashed when she had her boot planted upon his chest.
He yawned. “Och, I’m looking forward to sleeping in my own bed this night. I’m near to falling asleep where I sit.” He stood and stretched. “’Tis truth I accomplished what I set out to do. I’ve earned my fortune, and now I’m home to stay.”
“’Tis good tidings indeed, lad.” Malcolm rose. “Do you recall the day I wed your foster mother?”
“How could I forget.” He snorted. “I slept through the entire thing whilst I was supposed to be her guard.”
“Aye, that you did.” Malcolm chuckled. “You’ve come a long way since that day, and I could no’ be more proud were you my own flesh and blood. We’ll speak of your future plans once things settle a bit.”
Nodding, Hunter swallowed against the sudden constriction in his throat. Did they remember the vow he’d made the day Sky was born? How would he broach the subject with his foster father? Gently bred daughters of noble blood were meant to enhance a lord’s standing, bringing more land, wealth and allies to the clan. What did he have to offer? Casks of gold and silver, aye, but the MacKintosh had always possessed wealth enough.
He couldn’t think on it now. He yawned again, and his eyes burned with weariness. In a se’nnight or so, once Sky was home, he’d share his hopes with Malcolm. How would his foster father react? Leaning down, he kissed True’s cheek. “Good eve to you both. God willing, I’ll see you on the morrow.”
“God willing, you’ll see me in the lists at dawn.” Malcolm grinned, his eyes alight with challenge.
Hunter laughed, and his heart filled with gladness. Malcolm’s hair was now threaded with silver, and the creases around his eyes and mouth had deepened, yet he stood every bit as straight and radiated vitality. “I look forward to the challenge.”
Sweat trickled down Hunter’s face, and his muscles strained. He’d already spent a goodly amount of time sparring with Malcolm and now Cecil. ’Twas exactly what he needed. Raising his broadsword and grinning, he blocked his opponent’s strike. “’Tis good to be training whilst standing upon Scottish soil again, aye?”
Cecil grinned back. He met Hunter’s strike and went on the offensive, initiating a flurry of blows against him. “For certes,” he huffed out, “and ’tis good to hone our skills. We had little enough chance to do so whilst journeying through the land.”
Hunter detected only truth at present. He allowed Cecil’s offensive strike to send him back a few paces—as he always did. ’Twas best that he let those around him underestimate his abilities, lest the
y suspect he held some sort of unnatural edge over them. “Och, I cry pax.” He stepped away and thrust the tip of his claymore into the dirt. “Have you had enough?”
A burst of triumph flashed from Cecil. “Aye, if you have.”
“I’m starving. Let us go take our midday meal, and we can discuss what is to be done about Lady McGladrey.” He fixed a neutral expression upon his face, wanting to draw the other knight’s true purpose to light. He gestured for Allain to come take his broadsword. “I’ve no idea how to return her to her kin, but I believe ’tis best to begin by searching for the Romany’s whereabouts.”
“The wanderers?” Cecil reached for his scabbard and sheathed his claymore. He handed his weapon to one of his pages before heading toward the keep. “What do you hope to gain from them?”
“I thought mayhap they’d have knowledge of the fortune-teller I visited. I suspect ’twas she who schemed to lead us to the fair. I canna help but believe she is fae, and that she used a spell to hide her true nature from me.” No reason not to be as honest as possible. Madame Giselle could certainly take care of herself, and he saw no harm in putting Cecil on her trail. “Though I ken no’ the reasons why she would do such a thing. What think you?” They reached the keep, and Hunter let Cecil precede him into the great hall.
“Mayhap ’tis true. I’d like to help if I may. I owe it to Lady Meghan after the churlish way I behaved toward her.” Cecil’s expression clouded with feigned regret. “’Tis the least I can do.”
Cecil reeked of insincerity and selfishness. Anger bit at Hunter. What was the man about, and how did it involve Meghan? “Your aid would be most appreciated. If you wish, you can be the one to treat with the fortune-teller once we find her. I’d just as soon no’ face her again.”
Cecil lit up like a torch at the prospect. Again a flare of triumph surged from him. “’Twould be an honor,” he crowed. “Come, let us break bread together, and we can discuss our stratagem.”
The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3) Page 10
