Chapter Two
“If you listen closely, you can hear the trees whispering in the Highlands.”
Gaping at his brothers in stunned silence, Desmond fought the rage to take a fist to both of them. Had they lost their minds? He placed a hand on his sword and it did not go unnoticed by Niall. “I have no wish to remain any longer at Urquhart. Do not order me like a lad.”
“We all believe this to be a good idea. ’Tis only for a few months,” explained Niall.
“We?” echoed Desmond and glanced at Brian. His other brother would not meet his hard stare.
“The MacKays—”
“Stop. Whose idea was it that I should remain here to assist the MacKay at Aonach?”
Niall shifted slightly. “All.”
“Wrong,” he countered, seeing the lie within his brother’s eyes. “For I ken Alastair had no say in this plot.”
“Fiona thought it best ye work out your differences with Alastair,” interjected Brian.
“Ahh…and so the truth is revealed.” Desmond stepped away from his brothers and fisted his hands on his hips. “Ye could have mentioned this before we came out here to meet the Fenian Warrior.”
Niall placed a hand on his shoulder, and he flinched. “Mend the rift, Desmond. For Fee.”
They were all wrong. There was no need to fix what could not be undone. They had not been here to witness their sister’s pain as they made the journey back through the Great Glen several years ago. Her disposition grew sour with each passing day, snapping and cursing—angry with Alastair for leaving her in the care of his family after she had been injured in an attack. He deemed she was going to die and could not watch her passing. In addition, she filled her nights with quiet sobbing. Thank the Gods the MacKay finally came to his senses and followed them. When he offered marriage and his apologies, Desmond had let out a sigh of relief, since he was sorely tempted to bind and gag Fiona until they reached Eire.
Realizing he’d been controlled left a bitter taste within Desmond. “Safe journey,” he muttered to his brothers. Retrieving his satchel, he stormed back toward the gates of Urquhart.
“At least ye get to spend Midwinter with our wee sister,” shouted Brian.
He waved off their words over his shoulder, while he made his way through the portcullis. He gave no greeting when he passed Angus, Duncan, or Stephen in the bailey. Pushing open the massive doors to the castle, he dropped his satchel by the entrance to the Great Hall.
“Fiona!” he bellowed.
Brigid, Duncan’s wife, wandered out from the corridor. “She’s in the kitchens feeding Hugh.”
Giving her a curt nod, he started forward, but she blocked his path. “Is there a problem?”
He arched a brow. “Ye ken my fury, so why ask the question?”
The woman narrowed her eyes at him. “Not exactly, so enlighten me.”
Desmond’s laugh was bitter. “Are all women in your time so annoying?”
Brigid snorted and linked her arm through his. “If I understand your meaning, then yes, we’re demanding or annoying. Although, it seems women are the same in this time, too. Though here, they tend to have a more subtle approach.”
Her beauty and charm soothed his anger as she tugged him along the corridor. “I dinnae ken the word,” he stated, trying not to smile.
She smiled. “The women in this time have a gentler way of persuading the men. We—Aileen, Fiona, and Deirdre can be like charging rams with our men. It has not been easy with our medieval husbands, but we are all learning.”
Desmond fought the grin forming on his face. “I cannae fathom Deirdre ever being gentle.”
“Damn straight,” interjected Deirdre walking up alongside him. She grabbed his other arm and gave him a wink.
“Please forgive my outburst,” he responded, startled by her approach.
Deirdre smiled up at him. “No need to. It’s the truth. Though, I’m trying to temper my demanding tone—one which my husband, Angus, keeps reminding me of daily.”
As they approached the kitchens, Brigid placed a hand upon his chest. “Be gentle with Fiona. She’s expecting and not feeling well.”
“I dinnae ken your meaning.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fiona is carrying a child. She does not do well for the first three months. It is difficult for her to keep down any food or liquids. She also suffers from headaches.”
Desmond brushed a hand down the back of his neck. “Sweet Mother Danu.”
Deirdre poked him in the chest. “But don’t treat her like a china doll, either.”
Muttering a curse, he pushed away from the women and entered the kitchens. Thankfully, both women did not enter with him. His nephew sat at the table, happily content with his large chunk of bread. Seeing Fiona sitting in a chair by the hearth, he understood Brigid’s meaning. Dark circles stained the skin under her eyes, and her face was ashen.
Aileen hovered nearby attempting to hand her a mug, but Fee kept pushing it aside.
“Please let me return to my chambers,” pleaded Fiona.
“Not until you drink the tea. The peppermint and thyme will help to settle your stomach. If you want, dip a piece of the bread into the mug. But you must get some liquid inside of you. You’ll become dehydrated.”
“Can’t stand the smell,” she protested.
Stepping fully inside the kitchens, Desmond approached slowly. “Good morn, Fee.”
When she glanced up at him, her eyes were wary. “Is it?”
Smiling, he knelt on one knee. “Aye, since I have found out I shall be staying until after Midwinter. The last time we feasted at the Solstice was when ye were a wisp of a lass.”
Fiona studied his face. “And you don’t mind going out with Alastair to Aonach?”
He took her chilled hand into his. “I will not say I am overjoyed by this decision—one which was discussed without mine or Alastair’s consent, but I have agreed to remain and assist your husband.”
Her eyes misted with unshed tears. Squeezing his hand, she said, “Thank you. I was afraid you’d come in here and start yelling at me. I’ve already had a rough morning with my husband. The news did not settle well with him.”
Desmond frowned. “He should consider your condition.”
“Great Goddess! Does everyone know?” She shook her head. “I haven’t had a chance to tell Alastair.”
Desmond cupped his sister’s chin. “Two requests before I depart for Aonach.”
She eyed him skeptically. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“’Tis only fair, considering what ye did to us,” he stated dryly.
“Point taken. Continue.”
“First, ye tell your husband ye are with child before we set out. Second, ye drink the tea Aileen has kindly made for ye.”
“Humph! She doesn’t listen to me when I tell her to get some rest. She’s also pregnant with a child.”
Aileen pinched her arm. “Because I don’t get the sickness with my pregnancies like you do.”
Fiona rubbed her arm. “True, but that hurt.”
“Yeah, right. Here, please do as your brother has ordered, or I fear he won’t go.”
Grumbling a curse, she took the mug. “I agree to your terms, Desmond.”
“Good.” Standing, he pointed a finger in warning. “As soon as ye have finished your tea, ye can find Alastair and give him the grand news. I deem it will make the journey easier for us both.”
Fiona saluted him. “Will do, my captain.”
“Thank you, Desmond,” said Aileen as she handed the mug to Fiona.
Taking his leave, he barely made it out of the kitchens when Fiona yelled, “And mend this rift you have with Alastair.”
“If I don’t kill him first,” he muttered softly and headed for the stables.
****
Hours later, both men prepared to make their way out of the castle and along the loch. The entire family came out to wish them well, and Desmond smiled at his sister.
Aonach was two days away, and they traveled with an extra horse carrying supplies and food. Neither had spoken as they mounted their horses. Yet, Desmond knew Fiona had kept her word and told Alastair about the babe. He had witnessed their tender parting, especially when the MacKay laid a hand where the babe grew inside Fiona’s womb.
Though the day was brisk, the sun remained a warm beacon on their journey north through the Great Glen. Traveling along the loch for several hours, they veered away, climbing up the hill overlooking the water. Small animals skittered past them as they continued through brush and trees.
As dusk settled early, Alastair led them to a secluded area near a rocky incline. One filled with yew and pine trees. Dismounting, he spoke quietly to his horse and then pulled off his wrap and a leather sack.
“We shall stay the night here. I will fetch kindling for a fire.”
Desmond gave him a curt nod and got off his mount. Clearing an area for the fire, he tended to the horses, securing them for the night. Upon returning, he found Alastair had started a fire. Dumping a small bag with food near the man, he sat on a nearby boulder.
The fire snapped in the cold night air, casting a glow on the MacKay’s face. He studied the man, seeking a way to start a conversation.
Alastair pulled forth a jug from his own provisions. “Uisge beatha?”
“Aye, though I would have thought ye to bring some mead.” Taking the jug, he took a sip. The liquid speared a fiery path within his body. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he handed the jug back to Alastair.
The MacKay took a swig and stared into the flames. “There were those who deemed it best not to bring mead on this journey, so I brought the amber liquid and ale.”
Desmond held out his hands to the fire, warming the chill from his bones. “Because we cannae agree on the right amount of honey, so they feared we would spout harsh words over the mead.”
The man eyed him skeptically. “As if we have not done so already.”
Drawing his cloak more firmly around his body, Desmond chuckled lightly. “I feel like a pawn in my sister’s game.”
Alastair took another sip. “She kens the game well, since I have taught her.”
“God’s blood, nae,” he uttered softly.
Reaching for the food, Desmond opened the sack. Pulling out a small cloth covered bundle, he sniffed the contents. “Onion and mushroom pies? Must be for ye, since I have heard mention from Fiona they are your favorite.” Tossing the item to Alastair, he pulled forth another. Removing the cloth, he groaned.
“Do ye not favor the meal?”
Desmond glared at the man. “Is there no meat? Surely there must be some dried beef or venison in the other pouches.”
Alastair shrugged and continued to devour his meal.
Waving the food in front of the MacKay, he complained, “Just because ye do not eat the animals does not mean I must go without.”
Alastair let out a growl. “Do not expect me to kill an animal to feed ye, O’Quinlan.”
“Did I ask ye? Nae.”
“Good. If ye have no wish to eat the food ye are holding, I will gladly take it from ye.”
He smirked at the man. Taking a huge bite, Desmond savored the intense flavors mixed with herbs. No wonder the MacKay favored these tasty pies. Nevertheless, he would never admit it to the man glaring at him from across the flames. Licking his fingers, he pulled out two more, handing one to Alastair.
As they continued to eat in silence, passing the jug of uisge beatha, the night cloaked them, and Desmond found the tension easing somewhat. His thoughts returned to Niall’s words. Aye, a part of him continued to struggle with his anger over Alastair’s departure from his sister’s bedside—one that left her bitter and sad. He should have banished it moons ago, yet, the moment he stepped onto MacKay land, old memories haunted him. Two full years did naught to dismiss injustices, and he struggled to remain civil.
He had shoved his thoughts away, determined to feast and celebrate the time with his sister, his nephew, and the MacKays. However, Alastair proved to be a force more stubborn than anyone. Each conversation proved to be exhausting. In addition, the sparring in the lists increased with furor.
And each day, Desmond’s anger grew.
What did he actually want from the Dragon Knight? He found he could not answer the question without others spilling forth.
“Ye are thinking too much,” stated Alastair, his words sounding more like a growl.
Desmond met the hard stare of the Dragon Knight. The beast was barely contained, or controlled by the man. Of all the MacKay brothers, Alastair fought the dragon each day. Love may have tamed the beast, but Desmond feared one day the dragon would become unleashed.
Tonight he had no wish to battle the Dragon Knight over the past. Weary and longing for home, Desmond settled down upon the ground. Leaning against the boulder, he watched the flames dance into the inky black sky and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head.
Sighing softly, he knew the day of reckoning between him and Alastair MacKay was fast approaching.