Chapter Five
“Whisper your heart’s desire under the stars of a Solstice eve.”
Light snow fell softly into the pass and the Great Glen. Hushed silence greeted Alastair and Desmond from the forest ahead as the soft crunch of the horses’ hooves echoed around them. Though the sky was gray, it was far better than the pelt of rain and wind on their backs. If the weather remained this way, then their hope was to reach Urquhart by nightfall tomorrow.
A prickling of unease slithered within Desmond.
When Alastair held his hand up in warning, Desmond swiftly placed a hand on his sword. Bringing his horse alongside the other animal, he waited. The Dragon Knight could detect more with his Fae senses. He watched Alastair pull forth his axe from the side of his horse and place it across his knees.
Lowering his head slightly, Alastair muttered, “We are being watched.”
“Aye. Agreed.”
“I am going to dismount.”
Desmond arched a brow skeptically. “Ye deem it wise?”
His reaction seemed to amuse the Dragon Knight. “One blow to the land with my axe and it will unsettle any foe.”
Squinting, Desmond tapped his chin. “True, but ’tis fear that is hiding in the shadows.”
Alastair kept his gaze on the trees. “Ye think?”
“We are two men. If they wished us harm, they would have come forth.”
“But the trees can make for great fighting, and any foe can attack from above.” Alastair dismounted and lifted his axe over one shoulder.
Desmond looked down at the man. “Do ye reckon they are hiding among the trees?” He swiftly got off his horse and unsheathed his sword.
“Aye.”
Cautiously making their way toward the pines, they halted before the forest entrance. “We ken ye are there. Come forth and make yourself known,” ordered Alastair.
Silence greeted them.
Desmond stepped forward. “We wish ye nae harm.”
A young man emerged from the forest, his arms held outward. “I am simply one.”
“Druid?” asked Alastair.
The man’s eyes grew wide. “Aye.”
“Why do ye hide?”
“Because we dinnae ken if ye are foe or friend,” uttered the low voice of a female behind them.
Desmond felt the blade against his back and gritted his teeth. “I can assure ye, my lady, we are friends. There is no need to keep a blade to my back.”
“Then show me ye are a friend by dropping your weapons,” she demanded.
Desmond looked to Alastair and then back to the druid. “I did not ken we had to prove our loyalty.” Dropping his sword, he lifted his hands. “Pleased?”
“Including the axe.”
Alastair shrugged. “Ye may not wish me to drop my axe.”
“Do not take me for a fool,” she snapped.
Desmond cast a sideways glance at Alastair and understood what would happen next. The MacKay would deal with the druid, and he would take care of the woman. The Dragon Knight gave a curt nod and tossed the axe down upon the ground. The force of his power shook the area, giving Desmond the advantage he required. Dropping to the ground, he kicked the woman’s legs out from under her. She toppled backward, landing on her side away from him.
Stunned, indeed, but she still maintained control of her dirk. Desmond reached for his sword and leveled it to the back of her head. “Ye are a foolish woman,” he spat out. “Drop your blade and stand.”
Her hand unclenched the weapon, and she turned slowly around. “Ye might as well put a blade through my heart, for I have no wish to be your captive.”
Desmond stared wordlessly at the beauty before him. Eyes that mirrored the sea on a summer day gazed back at him in fury. Her hair reminded him of the wheat fields at harvest in his village of Navan, and his fingers itched to undo the mass braided around her head. Her lips thinned in disapproval, but he found himself drawn to them. As he took in her appearance, he noted the blood on her gown, and he immediately slammed the door on his lust.
Seeing his distraction, she moved her hand slowly back around the dirk.
“Nae,” he uttered in a hoarse voice. “Again, leave the weapon on the ground and stand.”
She obeyed and stood slowly. Lifting her chin, she met his hard stare. “What now?”
By the hounds, he believed a warrior stood before him. However, the beauty challenging him with her words would not sway him. “Ye can give us your name and why ye put a blade to my back.”
“Ye, first.”
He tilted his head. “Desmond O’Quinlan, and the other man is Alastair MacKay.”
“The Dragon Knight?” she uttered in a shocked tone.
“Aye,” growled Alastair, keeping a firm grip on the druid’s arm.
“Praise Mother Danu.” The lass moved away from Desmond, and knelt on one knee in front of Alastair. “Please forgive me. We did not ken whom we could trust. My name is Ailsa MacDuff. We require your assistance.”
Alastair released his hold on the druid. “Please dinnae pay homage to me.” He reached down and helped her to stand.
“Ye are revered on our island,” stated Ailsa. She waved her hand toward the druid. “This is Tam.”
The druid nodded. “How blessed we are to have a Dragon Knight and his guard come to our aid.” He looked at Ailsa. “This Dragon Knight has the power of the land.”
Desmond snorted in disgust. “I am not his guard.”
Alastair’s mouth twitched in humor. “I am married to his sister.”
“How can we be of service?” asked Desmond, handing Ailsa her dirk. Her name sounded familiar, yet he could not place where he had heard it mentioned.
“We were traveling to the loch when we came under attack by English soldiers. Ye must come now. Several of our guards have already been killed. My father was battling two men when he ordered me to run away.”
Alastair retrieved his axe. “Bloody bastards! Our contacts have informed us King John has ordered more soldiers into these parts. We have managed to keep the peace, but this comes too close to Urquhart land.”
“Then ye will help us?”
“Aye,” Desmond and Alastair stated in unison.
Desmond gave a short whistle. Both of their horses trotted forward. “Did ye flee on foot?”
“Nae. Our horses are within the trees.” Ailsa gave a sharp clicking sound, and a stunning white mare sauntered forth, followed by another horse.
“She is a beauty, but why would ye travel with an animal that has the color of snow?”
The lass glanced sharply at him. “Elva was my mother’s horse. It was important she make the journey with us.”
Watching as she mounted the horse, Desmond feared to ask the next question. “And your mother?”
“Dead,” she replied flatly and took off through the trees.
Quickly mounting his own horse Desmond gave a curt nod to Alastair, and they proceeded to follow the lass.
Silently approaching the area where the battle took place, Ailsa dismounted and crouched down behind a large pine. Tam stayed with the horses while Alastair and Desmond both scanned the area. Evidence of the battle lay strewn everywhere. Shields, swords, and dead men scattered across the ground. Yet, the enemy was nowhere to be seen.
Ailsa started forward, and Desmond pulled her back against the tree. Her eyes blazed with fury, but he held up a finger in warning. He bent his head near her ear. “Let Alastair make sure all is secure. For all we ken, they may be hiding in the brush.”
Fear reflected briefly in her features, but the lass quickly masked the emotion. Swallowing, she nodded. Releasing his hold, he watched as Alastair knelt and placed his hand upon the ground. Several moments passed before he stood and motioned them forward.
Making their way to the dead men, Ailsa ran toward an older man slumped against a boulder. Desmond was instantly at her side.
“Father,” she sobbed, slumping down beside him and placing a hand near his nose. “Thank the Gods and Goddesses.” She looked up at Desmond. “He lives, though his breathing is shallow.”
He watched as she inspected the wound on his head and arm, noticing the odd position of the limb. “I fear ’tis broken.”
“Aye,” she agreed. “We must straighten the arm.”
He crouched down beside her. “I can help ye. ’Tis best we do it while he is not awake.”
Standing, she wiped a hand across her brow. “I will need my pouch of herbs, salves, and linens. Tam can assist me.”
Desmond stood and glanced at Alastair. “Have ye found any alive?”
Alastair motioned behind him. “Only one. He took a blow to the head, but lives. Tam is tending to his injuries.”
Ailsa brushed past Desmond. “Did he say who it was?”
“I believe he mentioned the name of Muir.”
“Thank ye, Mother Danu,” she muttered, running off in the direction Alastair gestured.
As Desmond started to follow her, Alastair blocked his movement with a hand on his shoulder. “Has the lass mentioned why they were journeying?”
“Nae.”
Releasing his hold, Alastair rubbed at his face. “Why would King John’s men harm travelers? I cannae fathom this senseless act of violence.”
Desmond cast his gaze in the direction where the lass fled. “She did say she was a MacDuff. The MacDuff could be one of the Earls of Fife and is verra powerful. To take him down would bring a great prize. Yet, I dinnae ken if he is the one.”
Alastair nodded to the injured man against the boulder. “Is he her father?”
“Aye. He lives, though has suffered a broken arm and head wound.”
“Lugh’s balls! ’Tis more than a day’s ride to Urquhart.”
Desmond frowned. “Ye would bring them into your home? What if King John finds out ye have given shelter to the MacDuff?”
“As ye ken, we have feared far worse. What is one king, when we have destroyed an evil monster intent on ridding the world of light?”
“Ye are correct.”
Alastair shifted his stance. “Can ye honestly leave the lass to tend to her father and the other alone? With just a druid?”
“Nae, but—”
“By the hounds. She had ye tongue-twisted the first moment ye laid eyes on her. A few moments more, and she could have tossed her dirk into your chest,” teased Alastair.
Stunned the MacKay had witnessed his momentary failing, Desmond shoved the Dragon Knight aside and made his way to where Ailsa was speaking quietly to the injured man while Tam cleaned his head wound. She kept squeezing his hand, and Desmond fought the urge to yank her from the man.
Halting his steps, he patiently waited until she was done. When she placed a kiss on his cheek, Desmond sealed off all emotion. The injured man was surely her intended.
Bending to retrieve a pouch, she turned toward him. Wiping at her eyes, she lifted her head. “Will ye assist me with my father?”
“As I have stated,” replied Desmond and gestured for her to move ahead. “How many did ye lose?”
“Six good men,” she answered, tucking a lock of hair around her ears.
“’Tis a blessing these two survived.”
Biting her lower lip, she nodded. “My father and Muir.”
Gently taking her elbow, he steered her away from the dead men. “Alastair will bury the men swiftly. With his power of the land, he can open up the ground and seal them inside. I have no wish to see ye witness this.”
“Ye are most kind, but I have witnessed death many times. Furthermore, I have buried them as well. But I am grateful for the Dragon Knight’s gift.”
“Nevertheless, let us depart away from their bodies and leave them in peace.”
She let out a frustrated sigh. “I dinnae need protection.”
“And I did not offer any,” countered Desmond. “I merely wished to ease your pain.”
Ailsa halted and looked up at him. “’Tis all I have to hold onto. I can assure ye, I am nae damsel requiring a knight to rescue me.”
Desmond stared into her eyes—ones filled with strength and sadness. He wondered if she had ever known happiness. “Have nae fear, I am not a knight, nor do I seek to rescue any damsels.”
Mirth replaced the sadness. “Ye are a challenging man, Desmond O’Quinlan.”
Not bothering to reply, Desmond turned and walked away from the woman—who in their brief encounter, left him completely bewildered.