Chapter One
Urquhart Castle, November 1208
“By the hounds!” Desmond bellowed, slamming a fist to Alastair’s jaw. “Ye fight without honor.” He glared at the Dragon Knight and pointed his sword at him.
Alastair rubbed a hand over his chin. “Are ye angry because I attacked your weak arm?”
“Nae,” spat out Desmond. “’Tis not weak. Ye ken it has since healed.”
“Then why the harsh words?” Alastair straightened and lifted his sword high.
“Ye dare to use magic to thwart my move. The ground rumbled beneath us.”
Shrugging, Alastair tapped the ground with his sword. “I dinnae feel anything.”
“Then ye must be getting old, Dragon Knight,” taunted Desmond.
Arching a brow, Alastair lunged at him. However, Desmond reacted swiftly and moved aside, smacking the man on the back.
Stumbling slightly, Alastair turned back toward him. “Might I remind ye that ye are older by two winters?”
Desmond’s mouth twitched in humor. “Aye, but ye look older.”
“Bastard,” hissed the Dragon Knight, and the battle of blades began in earnest.
For the next half-hour, the clash of blades, grunts, and curses flew out between the two men in the lists. Both were intent on drawing blood from the other. Regardless of Alastair’s power over the land, Desmond continued to battle with the man. He would show no weakness in front of the Dragon Knight. Blood seeped into his eyes, causing his vision to blur, and the last blow to his jaw left him unsteady on his feet.
When his brothers arrived, followed by the other MacKays, Desmond fought harder. Leveling a fist into the man’s side, he was rewarded with a kick to the knees, landing him on the ground. As Alastair readied to level his blade against his chest, Desmond rolled away and quickly stood. Wiping blood from the cut on his brow with his arm, he drew forth his dirk with his other hand.
“Two blades? Fearing for your life, O’Quinlan?” His opponent stalked him. His eyes changing colors showing the dragon beast within the MacKay.
Desmond’s expression stilled and grew serious. “Should I be?”
Tension hummed around each, and a hushed silence descended for several moments.
Alastair lowered his sword. “Never on MacKay land.”
“Agreed,” shouted Angus MacKay, striding forward.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Desmond watched the oldest Dragon Knight approach him. “Good morn, Angus.”
Smiling, Angus smacked a hand against his shoulder. “Aye, ’tis a fine one to train in, but I can see there’s more than an exercise of blades here between ye and Alastair.”
Desmond winced from the contact, his shoulder bruised from the recent skirmish. “I can assure ye, ’tis all we came out here to do this morn.” He glanced up at the sky. “And there is no fear of snow to hinder our movements.”
Angus glanced over his shoulder at his youngest brother. “Truth?”
Leaning against a post, Alastair snorted. “What? Did ye think I was going to maim the O’Quinlan?”
Shaking his head, he gave Alastair a warning look. “If Fiona had witnessed the two of ye fighting, instead of sparring, I can assure ye she would have both your heads. Ye willnae be able to account for this once she sees your faces.”
“My wife is my concern,” protested Alastair moving away.
Desmond shrugged out of Angus’s grasp. “And my sister will understand.”
“Horse dung!” shouted Duncan MacKay from the other side of the lists.
“Agreed!” bellowed the rest of the men gathered around him.
Narrowing his eyes, Desmond pointed his sword at them. “Enough!”
Hushed silence descended as he made his way past his brothers and the other MacKays. Yet, it was Niall’s words that made him halt his stride.
“Ye ken Fiona will be upset. She deems ye are still angry with Alastair for leaving her when she lay dying two years past.”
He glanced sharply at his older brother. “Truly?”
Niall shook his head. “Aye. She has spoken to me. Since the moment we have returned, ye and Alastair have been sparring with words, blades, and even mead. Ye cannae even agree on the right mixture of the liquid.”
Frowning, Desmond stared at Alastair’s retreating form as the man departed the castle through the portcullis. “I have never stated a word to her.”
Niall nudged him in the back. “Ye dinnae have to. She has seen your reaction to him. Brian—”
“Does our other brother believe this as well?” Desmond scrubbed a hand vigorously over his face.
“Aye,” he uttered quietly. “Remember, ye gave a full account of what happened when ye returned home. Bitterness laced your words. I prayed the years would have lessened your anger. But I can see I was wrong.”
Desmond sighed. “But I favored the union between our sister and the Dragon Knight. So let us not discuss this any further. Fiona is happy. We are contented with this union.”
Niall moved in front of him. “Nevertheless, ye harbor a small part of anger toward the man. Ye can no longer hide behind a blade or shield. Ye must speak with Alastair.”
He snarled at his brother. “The MacKay has no wish to hear my words.”
Niall stepped closer. “Make amends before the Fenian Warrior comes for us tomorrow. I have no wish to leave with bitter words left unsaid and peace not attained.”
Desmond gritted his teeth. Acknowledging his brother’s words, he gave him a curt nod and stormed away. The bite of the wind followed him as he made his way through the portcullis and headed toward the loch. His body throbbed with the beating he took from Alastair. In truth, he longed for a hot bath to ease the pain of bruises that were still healing from a previous sparring with the Dragon Knight the other morning.
Brushing past a pine limb, he stepped into the clearing. The mists hugged the rugged edge of the hills. He watched a lone hawk making lazy circles over the trees as he tried to calm his breathing. Stripping free from his clothing, he braced his body for the icy, brittle sting of the water. Desmond would deal with the MacKay later. Now, he sought to temper the burning fire within his body and soul.
****
Fiona tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for her brothers to enter the Great Hall. She’d sent them both to make sure her brother and husband were not trying to chop off limbs from each other. Since the moment her brothers had arrived, Desmond seemed intent on provoking Alastair, and she couldn’t understand his meaning. On several occasions, Fiona had witnessed Alastair’s shift from man to his inner dragon, and only her touch had soothed the beast back within him.
Two years might have passed, but time apparently had not dulled whatever issue her brother had with her husband. Furthermore, Alastair seemed intent on doing his best to encourage the rage.
The Fae had granted her request two years ago to have her brothers magically escorted at this special time of the year to her new home at Urquhart Castle. She was determined to use their time together to form ties with her brothers, not only with herself, but with the MacKays. This was their first Samhain as one family—O’Quinlan and MacKay. However, the strain of being under one roof was intolerable. Barbs were continually tossed out between her husband and brother. It was enough to have her stomach twisted into knots at the meals, fearing a fight would ensue.
Their time together was precious, so Fiona had devised a plan. One, which both men might attempt to thwart. Nonetheless, she believed it would help settle the differences between the two. She surely did not want a repeat performance on next Samhain.
Fiona leaned her head against the cool stone, trying to ease the dull pain behind her eyes. “Sweet Brigid, if they don’t get in here soon, I swear I’ll storm into the lists and bash both their heads together.”
Hearing the doors to the castle slam open, Fiona rushed out of the Great Hall into the corridor. Her shoulders slumped when she noticed the absence of the two troublemakers. “Are they still in there?” she snapped.
Niall placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and steered her back inside the hall. “Nae. I believe both went to cool themselves by the loch.”
“Did you speak with Desmond?”
He nodded. “I fear he did not take hearing my words well.”
“He’s as stubborn as the MacKay men,” she blurted out. “Brute force seems to take precedence over talking about a problem.” Seeing the other MacKay men wince at her words, she gave them a weak smile. “Sorry, but true.”
Angus waved her off. “No need for amends. Ye do speak the truth.” He poured some ale into a mug, handed it to her, and then began filling the other mugs for everyone as they all settled in at the table.
Fiona looked for a pitcher of water and added some into the accepted cup. Swirling the liquid, she sipped it slowly. Glancing back up, she noticed the intent gaze of Stephen MacKay. Leaving his chair, he slowly made his way to her.
He leaned near her. “Ale laced with water?”
Fiona narrowed her eyes at the man. “Angus makes the ale strong.”
Smirking, he added softly, “Does Alastair ken ye are with child again?”
“Son-of-a…did Aileen tell you?”
Stephen winked. “We have nae secrets between us.”
She jabbed him in the chest. “There is supposed to be a code between women. I can assume either your wife forgot, or her brain is muddled because of her own pregnancy,” she whispered.
The man’s jaw gaped open, and his eyes grew wide. “I dinnae ken,” he mumbled.
Shocked by Stephen’s reaction, she grabbed his hand. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry. I thought she had already told you.” Fiona put her mug down and brushed a hand over her forehead. “I just assumed…gosh, I hate that word…since she’s further along—”
He silenced her blabbering by placing a finger on her lips. “Dinnae fret. I should have remained silent. ’Tis my own fault for speaking thus. I shall act surprised when she tells me.”
She nodded, and he led her to a seat near her brothers. Retrieving her mug, he handed it to her. Fiona took another sip to settle the queasiness inside her stomach. She prayed this pregnancy would not have the severe morning sickness she had experienced with her first child.
Placing her mug down, she clasped her hands in her lap. “Before Desmond and Alastair return, I have worked out a plan and require your help and approval.”
The room became eerily quiet as each of the men stared at her.
“This tremor of unease between these men has to cease.” Fiona looked to Angus. “Did you not state that the building of Aonach castle can continue until the first snowfall?”
“Aye,” replied the man slowly.
“Good. Then Alastair and Desmond can head out there tomorrow. I am sure once it starts to snow, they’ll be able to return safely. They can iron out their differences by working out there together. I’ve spoken with the other women, and they’ve prepared some food for their journey.”
Duncan leaned back in his chair. “Do ye deem it wise to send them out—” He tapped a finger to his head in thought.
She arched a brow. “Unsupervised?”
He smiled. “Aye, that’s the word ye used the other day.”
“I’m tired of playing nursemaid to two grown men. I love them both fiercely and refuse to let this squabble continue.”
Noticing her brothers’ confused expressions, she said, “I’ll explain the meaning of my words later.”
“’Tis a risk ye take,” stated Duncan.
“I dinnae ken your meaning, MacKay,” fumed Niall, his tone low.
Fiona shifted slightly understanding Duncan’s meaning and placed a calming hand on her brother’s arm. “If he can’t control the dragon beast, then he’s no good to any of us, including me.”
Duncan’s eyes flashed with the brilliance of his own inner dragon, yet, he remained silent.
She glanced at Angus. The leader of the Dragon Knights often sat in quiet reflection while others around him argued. She waited patiently until he lifted his gaze to meet hers.
“’Tis a good plan. But we must all be in agreement.”
Straightening herself, Fiona slowly looked at each of the men, daring them to challenge her idea.
Niall scratched behind his ear. “There is one problem I foresee.”
Fiona shrugged. “There are many.”
“Did ye forget the Fenian Warrior comes for us in the morn?”
Chuckling softly, she replied, “Nope. I had Stephen’s wife, Aileen, send out a request to meet with the warrior earlier to discuss my idea. Ronan MacGuinness thought it was a grand plan. I’m simply asking for an additional few months for Desmond to remain here. Ronan offered to return after Midwinter to take him back to Eire.”
“Then we are in agreement,” pronounced Angus.
Duncan turned to Stephen. “I have spoken this before, but I deem the women have taken over Urquhart.”
“We’re just here for their pleasure,” quipped Stephen, pouring more ale into his mug.
Angus held up his hand. “Since arrangements have already been decided, I shall go find my wife and offer my assistance.”
“Deirdre is with the horses,” responded Fiona.
“Thank ye,” stated Angus, giving her a smile.
“Come Duncan. Let us go search out our own women,” suggested Stephen.
Fiona watched the MacKay men leave the hall and then turned to her brothers. “I know you think I should have asked you first, but I feared you would speak to Desmond about my plan.”
Niall braced his arms on the table. “Nae, Fee, ye are right in forcing Desmond to make his peace with your husband. In truth, there is restlessness within his spirit. I believe there is more.”
Brian snorted and drained his mug. “What he needs is to bed a woman. The man has gone without one far too long.”
Fiona blinked, feeling her face heat. “Excuse me? Bedding a woman is not the solution. Furthermore, while we’re discussing the subject of women, I think you all need to consider taking wives.”
Niall let out a groan. “Fiona…”
Brian refilled his mug. “I will never be chained to one woman.” He gestured outward with his hand. “When there are so many to fill my bed.”
Standing, she glared at her brother. “You’re pathetic! You only want sex and not the commitment. It’s all the same, regardless of the century.”
He slammed his mug onto the table, ale sloshing everywhere. “I dinnae like the sound of that word.”
Fiona crossed her arms over her chest. “Pathetic…pitiful, sorrowful, wretched. Do you get my meaning?”
Brian stood abruptly, but Niall pulled him back down into his seat. “This is not a conversation we should be having with our beloved Fee,” warned Niall.
He muttered a curse, but nodded.
Fiona blew out a frustrated breath and sat. “You’re right. We should be focusing on Desmond and not the appetites of our brother.”
“Ye wound me, Fee,” grumbled Brian.
She gave him a small smile. “But oh, how I love you, dear brother.”
He grasped her hand and placed a kiss along her knuckles. “I will miss ye.”
Before she had a chance to utter a reply, Aileen came storming into the room carrying a screaming Hugh. “Problem in the playroom over toys with the other children. It seems he doesn’t like to share.”
Fiona stood and took her sobbing son into her arms. “What did he do now?”
Aileen fisted her hands on her hips. “While having a fit, he kicked the floor so hard the room shook.”
Stroking his back, she sighed. “My wee Dragon Knight. You are so like your father.”