by KH LeMoyne
“But not Bri.”
“She’s special,” the old woman whispered. “One who arrives the way she did should be sheltered from others. Lest they dream beyond their abilities.”
Bri noticed that Logan didn’t meet her gaze, and only nodded at Grainne. The conversation was evidently over.
He threw another pinecone into the fire. At the slight smile on Fiona’s face, he threw one to Bri. She offered it to Fiona. When the child refused a toss, Bri pitched it into the fire. A triple swirl of colors vaulted from the flames with a series of blasting horns.
Fiona jumped at the display, but her smile widened.
He threw Bri another one. This time Fiona caught it from Bri, rolled it in her hand, and tossed it. The cone overshot the fire pit. But a deflection from Logan punted it back to the fire for another brush of color and blast of tunes.
“Where will we find this laird?” he asked.
“At the castle. Hefin will take you.” Grainne motioned toward Hefin and Robert, reentering the cottage. At the cold breeze from the closing door Fiona shuddered and Bri tucked a blanket closer around her shoulders. Some things the child had adjusted to, others caught her painfully unprepared.
“We can’t leave you and Fiona,” Logan said as he glanced around the cottage.
“We won’t be at risk.” Grainne squatted beside the girl.
“The risk is—” Logan looked back and Grainne was gone. Fiona, too. “Where are they?”
Hefin stomped his foot and doubled over with laughter. However, the ring of Robert’s sword leaving its sheath caused Hefin to jump from his seat.
“We are still here, MacKenzie.” Grainne spoke clearly. A tiny giggle followed, the first sound they’d heard from Fiona.
Logan remained stiff, poised for action, but at the wave of Bri’s hand, he relaxed.
“Lads, there is nothing amiss.” Grainne reappeared, her hand on Fiona’s shoulder. The girl blinked several times, and they helped her lie back down on her pallet.
“Handy trick,” Robert said.
The old woman smiled and returned to the table with Hefin. “One I can use now that Fiona is alert. ’Twil only work on those able and willing.”
Logan frowned. “Sleep?”
“The child has already accepted the spell, so I can shield her during sleep, at least for the few days you’ll be gone.”
Beyond that, the long use of such magic would take a toll on the aged healer. However, her eyes gleamed with the joy she’d felt with her trick. Bri could also see faint lines of stress, the wince, and the tightening of Grainne’s hand when she and Fiona had reappeared.
“She’s right. The Laird Mackinnon will know what to do. He’ll be back at the castle for the wedding of one his men over these next few days.” Hefin cupped his hand around his bowl of stew. “We’ll need to leave when the moon is still high.”
“How long will it take?” Logan accepted a bowl.
“A night’s travel and a bit more. If we leave then, we risk less chance of detection and will be there by noon.” Hefin looked at Logan’s leg and then his face, as if considering his fitness for the trip.
“The leg’s fine. More exercise will help.”
“I’m going as well,” Bri added, and gathered up the supplies she’d used.
Hefin scowled at her. “We were there but a few weeks ago. Surely if anyone there had word of your kin, they’d have sent a message.”
“I can’t stop trying.” Bri leveled him with a pleading gaze. She wasn’t about to give up looking for her brothers.
“Take the lass. It might make the group seem less suspicious,” Grainne added.
They left when the moon hit its peak. The trail east consisted of rock and clear paths for the first ten miles. Logan brought up the rear with Robert, and let Hefin and Bri set the pace. The fact that he could watch her from behind had added benefits.
The first flash of fire in the night sky just above the horizon caught him by surprise.
“Hefin?”
The elder turned and pointed behind them. Their trail had crested at a peak midway between Mull’s east and west borders. The view behind them hid Agnes’s lands in the dense black of forests, but the mage tower he and Robert had seen from the water was visible.
Another flash of fire, then a third. The tower remained dark after that.
“The signals run through our land and north along the firth. Signs of raiders from the north, or uprisings, come through the mage towers first. Seers man the towers, the curtain wall around the shores, and locations across the median between us and the highlands.” Hefin pointed back toward the direction they headed and the dark sky. “The first tower stood alone until the recent construction. The Mackinnon has hired men to build his castle around the second to provide a defense for the mages on the far point.”
Mage towers. Logan couldn’t accept Fiona being raised and working for the laird in such a place.
“You wear your bleeding heart on your sleeve, MacKenzie.” Hefin’s voice was gruff but not unkind. “The mages aren’t locked to the stones there. They have lives. Some even have families. Their power protects the clan.”
“If you stop thinking of her as a little Dana or Gwyn, it might help,” Robert whispered.
“Yeah, because you’ve been thinking the same thing.”
“Hard not to.”
Hefin led them another mile. The moon had dropped in the sky, but the gray and pink of dawn hadn’t broken through the black.
At his raised sword, they stopped, crouched on their knees, and crawled to join Hefin and Bri behind an outcrop of rocks.
Below spread a gorge that wound through rock toward the water of the firth. The flicker of two campfires highlighted a dozen domed tents and several men in guard position at the perimeter of the encampment.
The moonlight emphasized their features with startling clarity. There was a mix of pale, tan, and dark skin, but each man shared one unique trait. A brilliant white slash swept in a diagonal across their faces from jaw to temple, like a tear in their skin exposing light. Not a tattoo, and hardly paint—Logan watched one man scrub at his face with his hand.
“Plagiar. The laird hired them for labor on his castle,” Hefin muttered.
“We’re hiding because…?” Robert whispered.
Hefin shook his head. “We want no interaction with them. Strange people those. They keep to themselves, moving from place to place. Wanderers.”
“But that’s not why you don’t trust them,” Logan said. Hefin’s defensive posture, the tension in his body, all radiated fear. Logan had felt many things from the man during the last few days—fear wasn’t one of them. Yet Logan couldn’t pinpoint a threat within the camp below. Emotions didn’t travel long distances unless compounded across large groups of people.
“Strange rumors. Bad rumors. We’ll head around them. It’ll add an hour or two, but no matter.” Hefin’s hand on Bri’s shoulder and a gesture with his head motioned her back. “Follow closely, and keep her between you.”
Before Bri could speak, Logan pulled her back with them and into his side. Whatever Hefin had heard dealt with women. Information he didn’t feel comfortable discussing with the woman he considered a daughter—and he was taking them far out of their path for her safety.
15
The noon sun beat down, casting no shadow when they cleared the final ridge. They’d stopped several times to rest, and once to eat, and while Bri knew Hefin had extended the trip for her benefit, they’d made good time. She paused beside Logan as everyone took in the layout of the laird’s village below.
In mid-construction, the castle resembled a strange bird. The mage tower jutted from a rocky crag, providing beak and spine. The first two levels of the manor house nestled against it like a belly. The two completed curtain walls spread like thick wings. Men lugged large planks into the manor to finish the interior before the winter’s cold. Their shouts carried on the breeze. Multi-sized cottages circled a large training field, all wedged b
etween the castle and the firth beyond.
Everything much the way Bri remembered from her last visit.
“Looks different from the castle we left,” Robert said from the other side of Logan, a frown on his face.
He’d kept his distance from her the entire trip. Not that she hadn’t felt safe. Both men had kept watch over her all night. At each new sound, they’d boxed her between them for protection. Since their talk, Robert still gave her a wide berth but teased her in a friendly fashion.
“Another mage tower.” Logan’s voice matched his scowl.
“You should go through your story again, get the odd parts worked out. You don’t want to bumble through this with the laird. And, lass.” Hefin punctuated every point with his walking stick, then turned to her. “Try not to bring attention to yourself.”
She rolled her eyes but caught Logan’s raised brow.
“She’s more independent than most,” Hefin insisted with a last thump of his stick. “The younger women here stay with their families unless they are claimed.”
“Why would she have a problem?” Logan asked.
“Mackinnon doesn’t tolerate disruption in his ranks. He wants his warriors hard and focused. Attractive, unattached females disrupt the focus.”
Logan gaze hardened. “Has Bri come to the laird’s attention before?”
Hefin gave a brisk snort. “He would not lay a hand on her. However, he is not above using her for the benefit of an alliance. She ignores the risk.”
“There is no risk,” she added with conviction. “I always stay out of his way.”
“Lass, your face brings notice from every available warrior in the laird’s ranks.”
She gave an indelicate sniff, ignored Logan’s dark gaze, and the twitch of laughter from Robert. Then she headed down the path.
A well-rounded woman with a gentle smile and a child straddled over her hip greeted them near the first cottage.
“Hefin. It’s good to see you so soon. Will you be here long enough to join us for a meal?”
Hefin nodded. “Aye, Mary. That would be most welcome. Is Thomas at the castle?”
“He is, but he’ll return before he heads to the training field.” She flashed a curious look at Logan and Robert, and a more speculative look toward Bri. “How is Grainne?”
“She’s slower these days, but well.” Hefin nodded. “You remember my cousin’s child, Briallen?”
“Of course, I remember the lass.” She sidled closer and slid her arm through Bri’s. “You brought her for the festival last year. ’Tis a shame Grainne could not come. We’ve a sore need for her skills right now.”
“Illness?” ask Hefin.
“The castle workers have been riddled with strange accidents in the last few days.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “Many suspect the vagabond workers hired for the castle have left hexes. The mages are cleansing the grounds.”
Hefin’s jaw tightened. “Not certain even Grainne’s skill could help with what seems to be about these days.”
Mary looked at Bri. “As I remember, you’ve trained with Grainne. We’ve recently lost our healer and the mages don’t condescend to relieving minor pain and suffering. Would you mind taking a look at the injuries?”
Bri nodded, but glanced at Hefin when his frown deepened. “My skills are limited, but I’ll be happy to help if I can.”
“Well done, then. And your companions?” The woman hitched her child higher and scrutinized Logan and Robert more over Hefin’s shoulder.
“These two are from Briallen’s mother’s family. MacKenzies.” Hefin gestured toward the men.
Mary’s smile widened, and Bri’s stomach sank at the matchmaking implication in her expression.
“Are you here to see the laird?” Mary glanced pointedly between them.
“They’ve a proposal to offer Laird Mackinnon from the Mackenzie clan,” Hefin grunted, his focus diverted to the training field.
“Thomas had word the laird won’t be available until tomorrow after midday. You may have to stay over. I’d offer room with us, but we’ve taken in several of the injured men. There’s scarce room left. But I can lend you blankets and the warmth of the fire.”
Hefin patted Mary’s hand. “Don’t worry your mind over it. The nights are calm yet. We’ll be fine outside. Though the blankets will be appreciated.”
A second woman appeared from the nearest cottage, with three ladies more behind her. The growing crowd separated Bri and Hefin from Logan and Robert.
“We haven’t met. I’m Meara, wife to Dillon MacDougall.” A petite woman with brown curls escaping in every direction from her braid smiled toward Logan and Robert. “My husband is in charge of the work on the castle. If there’s anything you need while you’re here, let me know and I will help you track it down.”
At a loud feminine laugh, all of the women turned.
“Now there’s trouble.” Meara cast a rather worried glance around the crowd advancing from the opposite direction.
The men stood silently as a tall, Rubenesque redhead moved in front of them and leaned intimately close to Logan and Robert. Her arms folded across her chest, squeezing her breasts together and giving each man a full view of her generous curves. She coupled her suggestive glance to each man with a curl of her lush lips.
Bri watched, first in amazement, then with an unfamiliar annoyance. The woman turned to Robert and backed against Logan, rubbing her bottom against his groin. Bri’s mouth dropped open. A blinding wave of anger washed in red before her eyes. Only Logan’s closed expression and his attempt to step away from the woman halted her comment.
“Well, it looks like Duvessa is stirring the pot. You’d best rein them in before her husband finds out. Quite a jealous one, he is,” one woman in the crowd said.
“A big man he is,” Mary added. “He could break both your men at once. And no small feat that would be.”
Bri blinked, at a loss for words. Fortunately, from Hefin’s scowl, he planned on interceding.
“I’ll go deal with them, lass,” he said. “Perhaps you should head on back to Mary’s and cause less attention here.”
Logan caught Bri’s gaze before she could leave. Trapped between unexpected jealousy and confusion, she turned abruptly, dismissing him, and joined Meara and Mary as they entered the cottage.
Logan extracted his arm from the voracious female in front of him only to glimpse Bri’s stiff spine as she retreated into a cottage. From Hefin’s scowl, their predicament wasn’t the low-key presence he expected. Logan would be happy to fix the problem if he knew what in the hell to do.
“Duvessa, take your buckets and go about your chores,” Hefin snapped. “I need these men for the laird’s business.”
Duvessa snorted a harrumph with annoyance, but she lifted her pails of water and headed on her way.
“You’d do well to stay away from so obvious a problem.”
Robert watched the retreating figure. “Where’s the problem?”
“That would be Duvessa’s husband. He killed a man just because he smiled at his wife.”
Robert’s eyebrow shot up with a low-pitched whistle.
Logan ran a hand over his beard bristle. Hefin was right. They didn’t need that kind of attention.
“Women, in general, are a problem,” Hefin exhaled a sigh of exasperation. “Why I never married. But you know better than to deal with one so obvious.”
Logan’s annoyance rose. “She caused such a commotion and I decided not to encourage her, hoping she’d moved on.”
“Aye, she’s a born troublemaker. The laird settled her right quick.”
Robert crossed his arms over his chest, and tilted his head at Hefin. “What do you mean?”
“He got her a husband before she was old enough to cause too much ruckus with the rest of his men. Doesn’t stop Duvessa though.”
“How young are we talking, here?”
Hefin shrugged, and led them along the grassy surface of the training grounds to t
he castle’s perimeter. “She was twelve, perhaps.” He shook his head and they both came to a halt. “We’re not barbarians, for heaven’s sake. She was promised and became her husband’s problem to keep track of until she was old enough to wed.”
Not quite sure what to say, given the wide divide between the lifestyle here and at home, Logan held his tongue.
With a wave of his walking stick, Hefin continued. “She has looked just as she does now since she was eleven. And while her husband might kill you, he has never laid a hand on the woman in anger. He treasures her. God only knows why. She’s a kettle of trouble. Ah, Thomas, there you are.”
A shockingly tall, reedy man strode toward them with an easy gait, and lifted his hand to Hefin’s shoulder.
“What brings you back so soon? Not Grainne, I hope.”
“Nay. Your brother’s wife is still able and feisty as ever.” He nodded his head to Logan. “I bring Briallen’s kin to speak with the laird on an urgent matter.”
The lighthearted attitude disappeared. Thomas’s cool gaze turned on him, assessing him as a threat.
Logan focused instead on superimposing Thomas’s string-bean physique on someone married to a woman as petite as Grainne. Odd, though not impossible. Perhaps the only thing Thomas and his brother shared was love of family.
“The Mackinnon is handling an issue. I can take your case to him, but prepare yourself for tomorrow at best.”
“Issues of clan or state?” Hefin asked.
Thomas hesitated, then sighed with a shake of his head. “The damn Plagiars. The interior was nearly done and then strange accidents hindered the progress. Our men sustained unusual injuries. Their leader was not happy when our laird released him from service. They’re being escorted to the borders.”
“Those people have strange practices.”
“There are more Plagiars around than just the men?” Logan looked around.
