Susan King - [Celtic Nights 01]

by The Stone Maiden

  Alainna glanced up. The sky was powdery white with a snowfall that might thicken or vanish. When she looked toward Kinlochan again, she saw the riders moving out through the open gate, a host of horses and armed men, a grim vision of might.

  She spared a glance for the island. Ruari still hid there, though in the few days since Christmas he spent less time in the broch, where he had managed to keep snug despite the weather. His arm had strengthened quickly, and she knew he now rowed himself to and from the shore, sometimes going out before dawn, or returning after dark, when Giric rowed Esa out secretly to stay the night with her husband.

  The loch had not iced as yet, but when it did, he would have to find another hiding place. She suspected, although Esa had not said, that he and Esa would return soon to their house in the hills. Likely Esa would announce to her kinfolk that she was done with company and ready for solitude no matter the weather.

  Now Alainna fully understood the depth and passion of the devotion between Esa and Ruari. She sighed, and watched the knights canter around the end of the loch, Sebastien and Giric in the lead.

  Through the veil of falling snow she saw the faery warrior of her dream riding toward her once again. Her heart surged within her, and she closed her eyes briefly, savoring the memory of the passion that had flared between them like a need-fire. If he left her, she would have that memory of him always. If he left her, she prayed she would have his child within her, too, to carry on the blood of her clan. And to give her a part of him.

  She stepped away from the shelter of the Stone Maiden and stood, draped in her long plaid, a small twin to the stone. Sebastien reined in his horse. When Giric and the others slowed, he waved them on and walked his mount toward her.

  She reached up to hold the horse's bridle while she looked at Sebastien. "I wanted to talk to you before you left," she said.

  "If the weather concerns you, do not worry," he said. "We will be back shortly."

  "It is not that. There is something I must say to you."

  "The ride to Turroch is not far. We will discuss the king's terms there and return before the snow decides what sort of storm it wants to bring today." He smiled, his eyes as gray as the sky. "Go inside. It is not safe for you to be out here without a guard."

  "Finan Mor is with me, and besides, I am always safe beside the Maiden," she said. He gave her a doubtful glance. "Get down from your horse," she said. "There is something I must do."

  "What you can do is go back to the fortress as fast as you can. Finan, home," he ordered, pointing. "Take your mistress home."

  "Finan, stay," she said. The dog whimpered and circled. "Do not torment him, sirrah," she told Sebastien. "He gives you his loyalty now as well as me. He wants to please us both. Get down from your horse. I need but a moment with you."

  Sebastien lifted a brow laconically, then sighed and dismounted with a creak and jingle of mail and leather. He seemed to tower over her, and for a moment she remembered the first day she had spent time with him in the abbey church at Dunfermline, when he had stood like a guard of honor for her, patient and strong and beautiful.

  "What?" he asked. She took his hand and drew him away from the horse, positioning him so that he faced the Stone Maiden.

  "If you insist on meeting with Cormac, I must give you a charm of protection," she said.

  "Alainna, all will be well, I need no—"

  "Hush," she said. "This I must do, for myself as much as for you. I cannot watch you go to meet the MacNechtans without a seun to protect you." She squared his shoulders so that he faced the Maiden, then walked around him in a circle, sunwise, while she spoke.

  A shield of mist I put on you

  From heather and mountain

  From sea and stone

  From man and maiden

  Till you return to me.

  She placed her hand on his chest, the steel mesh cold beneath her palm. "No blade shall cut you, no arrow shall strike you, no fire shall burn you. Shield of angels around you, shield of faery. May you come back to me as you go out from me."

  She closed her eyes and bowed her head, her hand flattened over his heart, and stood for a long moment in silence, with the cold wind soughing, damp with snow, around them.

  When she opened her eyes, Sebastien was staring at her, his silvery gaze keen and deep. He framed her face in his fingers.

  Silent, swift, he took her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. She arched her head back and felt her knees sway beneath her. He released her and stepped back, his gaze steady on hers.

  "That," he said, "is my blessing for you." He turned and strode through the feathery snowfall, mounted his horse, and cantered away.

  Alainna touched her fingers to her lips, watching him. By the time he reached his companions, the snow had blurred her view.

  She could still feel the bond between them, like a silvery thread spinning out. And she felt the subtle strain upon it, and she grew suddenly, deeply afraid.

  Chapter 25

  Sebastien tossed the document down on the broad, scarred table surface. "Cormac. There is the king's message to you."

  Cormac slid a glance around the dim hall, his own at Turroch, a longer and more spacious hall than that at Kinlochan. In the few minutes he and his companions had been here, Sebastien had already noted the dingy, neglected feel to the place, with filthy rushes, bowls of food still on the tables, several napping dogs, and a cat or two stalking mice in the shadowy corners.

  The place definitely lacked a female presence and influence. Sebastien told himself that he would be damned before he would allow Cormac to take Alainna into a household like this.

  Yet he knew that his own actions were all that stood in the way of Cormac marrying Alainna.

  Frowning, he observed the others in the room who watched Cormac. Struan stood a few feet from his brother. Giric, Robert, and Lulach gathered behind Sebastien. Out in the bailey, he knew, fifteen knights waited inside the gate, armored and carrying weapons, with orders to attack should anything unwelcome happen.

  A few of Cormac's kinsmen sat or stood on the other side of the stone hearth, a mean and motley guard, silent and rough-hewn in plaids and hide boots. Their weapons, at Sebastien's earlier suggestion, had been grudgingly laid aside on a table.

  He hoped that he could rely on Highland hospitality, the strict tradition that dictated no harm could come even to an enemy inside another's walls. Struan had assured them of this upon their arrival, although Sebastien and the rest wanted to deliver the message, discuss what was necessary, and depart. He doubted Cormac would be so foolish as to attack the king's men as they delivered the king's message inside his own hall.

  The edgy silence lingered. Cormac picked up the parchment, broke the seal, looked inside, and tossed it on the table. "I spent my boyhood days with weapons, not books. Read it."

  Sebastien read its curt message aloud, then folded it. "The king commands Clan Laren and Clan Nechtan to put weapons and anger aside," he summarized. "Cease your aggression against these people or be cast out of your lands and put to fire and sword. In addition, I am to report to the crown any suspected ties between Celtic lords in this vicinity and Celtic rebels."

  "What of Clan Laren?" Cormac asked. "They are kin to one of the rebels, which we are not. Surely you suspect them, and will cast them out of their lands."

  "Clan Laren has cooperated with the king's wishes," Sebastien answered. "As for the rest, the king awaits my word and my report. One of the questions that needs a clear answer is which Celtic lords in this region are loyal to the crown and which are not. Clan Laren has established its loyalty. Prove the fealty of your clan and you will benefit."

  "We can prove that," Struan said. "We have never supported the rebellion, though we know men who do."

  "True," Cormac said. "In fact, we know them so well that I can give you the heart of the rebellion itself, if you wish."

  Sebastien narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

  "Ruari Mor MacWilliam," Cormac said. "I know where he
is."

  "He is dead," Lulach growled.

  "He is hardly dead." Cormac smiled slowly. "I have seen the man myself and spoken with him recently."

  "You have seen him?" Sebastien demanded. "Where?"

  "He has been here at Turroch a few times in the past weeks. I gave him a sleeping pallet by my hearth. He came from Ireland to muster support for his clan's cause against the king."

  Sebastien shot a quick glance at Giric, who glared stonily at Cormac from an otherwise impassive face. "When was he here last?" Sebastien asked Cormac.

  "Two days ago," Struan said. "You have seen him yourself. He fought those wolves to save Eoghan and Lileas."

  Sebastien turned to Giric. "You knew," he hissed in a low voice. "Alainna knew."

  Giric looked away, but Sebastien understood the unspoken affirmative. He realized that Alainna had deliberately kept the truth from him to protect Ruari. Esa knew, too, and Giric. He wondered how many of them knew, and had kept silent.

  He felt betrayed, like a blade to the heart.

  Certes, he thought. Alainna had said there was a ruin there, and he had seen her rowing a boat on the loch. Anger and dismay rolled through him. They had not trusted him. They had kept him out of their secrets—with reason, he admitted to himself. They respected and loved Ruari, and Sebastien had been sent to find him, even to kill him.

  He could not help but wonder what else they hid from him. If Clan Laren supported the Celtic rebellion against the king, he must report them, even arrest their chief, as ludicrous as the idea seemed.

  Cormac smiled. "Ruari saved Eoghan, so I gave him shelter here. He went to Kinlochan to see his wife, did you know that? He hinted that they meet secretly there."

  Sebastien felt trust and hope fall away from him like a collapsed scaffold, taking the buttress of their friendship and the sense of family that he had felt from Alainna's people. He looked at Giric again and scowled.

  Giric shook his head. "Only we two knew," he murmured. "It was only to help Ruari. For no other reason. I swear to you that she is loyal. We are all loyal to the crown."

  Sebastien looked away, wanting to believe that, but unsure.

  Cormac's dark eyes glittered. "I see you did not know. Well enough, now you do. And I can deliver Ruari to you, as the king requires."

  "What guarantee do I have that you are not a traitor as well?" Sebastien asked.

  "I am not so foolish as to follow Guthred MacWilliam. He claims a right to the throne, but he is a hotheaded young fool. He does not deserve the fine ancient blood that courses through his veins. Ruari follows his lead like a dog to a master, no matter that the master is worthless."

  "Ruari Mor is no follower," Lulach said. "If he is alive, and in the Highlands, he works for his own purpose, and not that of a pup."

  "Your kinsman's heroic deeds have blinded you to his treacheries," Cormac said abruptly. He turned to Sebastien. "Ruari believes that he has my support and the strength of my clan behind the MacWilliams. Of course," he said smoothly, "I would not commit treason."

  Giric laughed outright, a bitter and skeptical sound.

  "Where is Ruari now?" Sebastien asked.

  "I do not know. But he will be here in a day or so, and then, if you wish, you may have him."

  Sebastien tensed. Behind him, his companions were like tightly drawn bows, even Robert, who understood little of the Gaelic conversation and relied on Giric's hurried whispers.

  "We will speak alone," Sebastien said, motioning for the others to retreat to the door. They cast him dark looks and shuffled back only a step. He moved closer to Cormac, trying not to inhale the man's unwashed, meaty odor.

  "What price for this?" Sebastien asked, although he knew the answer he would hear.

  "You want Ruari MacWilliam. I want Alainna of Kinlochan. Promise me that Alainna will be my wife, as her father once agreed. Gain for me the king's word—I know you can get it—that Kinlochan will be mine."

  "And then?"

  "Then I will give you Ruari MacWilliam, and in so doing, give the king the entire rebellion. Ruari is the key," Cormac said. "He is Guthred's most trusted kinsman. Ruari knows all their plans."

  Sebastien's gaze trained hard and unwavering on Cormac.

  "Do this, Sebastien le Bret, and you will be the most powerful Norman knight in all of Scotland. The king will reward you—and me." He smiled, his teeth, at close view, gray and broken. "Think what the king will give you in return for this. Kinlochan is nothing compared to what he will grant you. One of the Celtic earldoms, perhaps. Whatever you desire."

  Sebastien stared at him. Like the proverbial demon crouched on a dying man's bedpost, Cormac had found the pulse of his ambition, the hub of what he wanted, and laid before him the devil's own temptation.

  "The king's sister is the duchess of Brittany, I hear," Cormac said. "King William need say but a word to her, and you will receive honors in Brittany for saving her homeland. Land wealth, a bride—a duchess, perhaps even a princess. With the king of Scotland and the duchess of Brittany in your debt, you will have all you could ever want."

  Sebastien narrowed his eyes. He expected ambition to ' swell within him and drown his reasoning. He waited for the hard, swift current of material desire that had carried him forward for years to sweep through him.

  He felt nothing. He did not want the promised boons that Cormac dangled before him.

  He wanted Alainna. He wanted to be part of her clan. Yet he felt as if they had shut him out and betrayed him by protecting Ruari.

  Sebastien fisted a hand at his side, stared once again at Cormac. "And all this when you betray Ruari MacWilliam to me?"

  "All this," Cormac said.

  "And what, then, for yourself? Surely you want more than Kinlochan and a bride."

  "I will have all the reward I need," Cormac said. "The favor of my king, the land my clan has claimed and fought for generations. Our enemies in the palm of our hand." He smiled. "The bride my father and grandfather meant for me to have."

  "All you could ever want," Sebastien said mockingly.

  "Indeed. It is a simple choice. What will you do?"

  Sebastien glanced at his friends. They were silent as stones, as wolves. He was part of their solidarity, no matter what they had withheld from him. He could never take part in the ignoble plot Cormac suggested. No prize, no ambition, was worth betraying a man, or worth losing the respect of the people whom Sebastien cared for deeply.

  No ambition was worth losing Alainna.

  If he did nothing to stop Cormac, the man would betray Ruari MacWilliam himself and earn royal favor. If Sebastien returned to Brittany, Cormac could eventually gain not only Kinlochan, but Alainna's hand in marriage.

  "All you could want, I am sure," Cormac repeated.

  He knew what he wanted, knew it with such clarity that he sucked in a fast, hard breath.

  "What shall it be?" Cormac said. "Shall you meet me here in a few days to collect Ruari MacWilliam, or shall I bring him to Kinlochan's gates for his kin to see? Surely they would like to see him before he is taken away to the king's dungeon, and hanged by the heels and quartered apart in a traitor's death. What shall it be?"

  "Send word to the king yourself," Sebastien said brusquely. "I am not interested in treachery."

  While Cormac gaped at him, he pivoted. Giric, Robert, and Lulach turned with grim precision and strode out of the room in his wake.

  "Prepare yourselves, my friends," Sebastien said as they crossed the bailey through spitting, whirling snow. "There will be a storm before long. And we have a renegade to rescue." He heard Giric laugh in relief and agreement.

  All he wanted, as he mounted the Arabian and rode through the gate, was to get home to Alainna before either storm, the one that swirled in the sky or the one that brewed among men, hit.

  * * *

  They rode east over broad, rock-studded meadows and low hills covered in a new mantle of snow. The flakes slanted out of a bleak sky, and the wind gusts were bitter. Sebastien be
came aware of an unease that had nothing to do with the threatening weather.

  "Snowstorms turn dangerous quickly in the Highlands," Giric said. "See there, in the distance, that strange cloud. 'Tis a snow squall over the mountains, heading this way. We must go quickly to Kinlochan, for we cannot turn back and seek shelter at Turroch if we are caught by a squall. No matter the rule of Highland hospitality, they will not take us in," he added grimly.

  Sebastien scanned the leaden sky and looked westward, where a large, gauzy formation obscured the mountaintops. "I am not as concerned about the weather as I am about the trustworthiness of the MacNechtans."

  "I agree," Robert said. "But we are armed and mounted on warhorses. We are skilled fighters. They are wild savages."

  "Lulach and I," Giric reminded them wryly, "are savages too."

  "Made civil by good friends," Robert retorted. Giric chuckled and Lulach grinned.

  "In this weather, Cormac will keep to his warm hearth. No one will come out here now," Hugo said, riding behind them.

  Lulach laughed harshly. "Do not trust what you see out here. Those hills are not empty. Even poor weather does not deter a Highlander with a purpose or a grievance. Though heavy snow might discourage a smarter man than Cormac MacNechtan."

  The back of Sebastien's neck prickled. "This way, back to Kinlochan quick as we can," he said, urging his horse ahead.

  "There is a faster way," Giric said. "To the left. A track between those hills will take us back directly."

  "We must take the longer route," Sebastien said. "We can keep an open view of the countryside the rest of the way."

  "Why? There is no one out here," Robert said.

  "Sebastien Ban is right," Lulach told Giric. "We should take the longer track."

  "The horses will tire faster carrying armored men over these hills in such cold," Giric said. "Your horses are not as nimble as Highland garrons on slopes, and the snow on the hills can be treacherous."

  Sebastien sighed, realizing there was little choice. "We will follow the pass between the hills. Keep alert for danger."