Chapter Twenty-Two
Mairi slept and, in the darkness, nightmares popped in and out. Burning rooms, a sneering priest who wasn’t a priest at all, fire eating up her dress, scorching her back.
“Ye are safe.” The deep whispers penetrated the pain, and in her dream she looked upward to see a bright light, Alec’s face looking down. “I’ve got ye.” And then he did have her, his warmth penetrating the cold that racked her, making her lungs burn and convulse with coughs. Even the pain ebbed when he held her. Clean water slid down her throat, making her wince and choke. Warm liquid followed when her coughing stopped. Sweet with honey, it coated the soreness.
She lay on something soft that smelled of flowers. The smell of smoke remained only in her fitful dreams. Mairi’s neck ached, and she realized that she lay on her stomach. She blinked, the effort causing the shadows before her to bend and change. But she was too tired to follow them and relaxed back into dreams.
“Look at the stars.” Alec smiled across from her in the boat as they glided under a night sky, clear and pierced with bright constellations.
“I’d rather look at ye,” she replied.
He rose, moving along the boat, which didn’t even sway. She stood to face him as his lips came down to hers. His hands reached around to her back, sliding down her spine, and she gasped, rearing back. Alec’s face shifted, concern heavy on his brows.
She blinked back tears, and the night scene shifted to daylight. The pain on her back ached and prickled at the same time, almost making her lapse back into darkness.
“Stad, her eyes are opening.” Alec’s voice called to her consciousness, and she fought to follow it. “Mairi, can ye hear me, love?”
Love? She was still asleep and let herself drift away again. Dreams flitted along with the churning chaos that comes with unconsciousness.
“Mairi, dear.” Her mother whispered. “You will be fine. I’m here now.” Her mother’s strong voice faded into a scene of her childhood home, Aros, the blues and greens of the water offshore when the sun beat down. But then it turned into Kisimul, surrounded on all sides.
“I will lift her.” Joan Maclean’s voice was as strong as it always had been.
“I will,” Alec answered her, stubbornness making his voice sharp and lethal.
“I am her mother.”
“I am her husband.”
Husband. Mairi clung to the word as water licked at her skin, making her shiver at the cold. Fingers, numb and aching, curled along the edge of a small boat moored in the bay, one of the unused boats Alec had shown her. It began to sink, and she pushed away from it, swimming toward Kisimul to crawl upon the rocks where the sun could reach her. The sun beat harshly on her bare back, burning it, blistering it until she whimpered.
“Ye are strong, Mairi.” Alec’s words calmed her, and she felt his warmth. His heat was different than the burning on her back. His was a gentle sun. “Drink,” he said, and she opened her lips. It seemed that she was always drinking something. She relaxed back into oblivion.
Mairi blinked, her eyelids opening and closing slowly as if they were hinges that needed oil. She lay on her side, her face toward a low fire across the cottage room. This was Millie’s cottage. Through the darkness, Mairi saw the woman lying on a pallet before the fire, breathing evenly.
Lips dry. Tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Mairi shifted in the bed, feeling the ache of unused limbs and a heavy binding across most of her back. A dampness clung to her body, as if she’d rested in morning dew. She needed to change her smock.
A shadow rose from the chair beside her, large and familiar. Alec moved silently to a washstand and wrung out a cloth, the water trickling back in. He bent before her and wiped the wet cloth along her lips. Jaw covered with an unkempt beard, eyes dark, lips tight. His haunted look reminded her of the warriors returning from a long series of battles. How long had she been asleep?
Warm fingers brushed some of her hair away from her forehead. She turned her face into his hand, looking up. Alec stilled. “Mairi?” he breathed and lay his palm against her forehead.
“Och, MacNeil,” she whispered, her voice rough. “Ye’ve been battling.”
Alec dropped the rag on the floor, bending over her, his hands wiping down her arms. “Your fever.” He cradled her face in his hands, his mouth parted. “It’s gone,” he breathed out in a rush. “Thank God, it’s gone.”
She’d known she was hurt as she ran through her nightmares and dreams. “How long?” she asked and lifted her hand to grasp his wrist.
“Ye’ve been in and out of consciousness for nearly a fortnight.”
Two weeks. Mairi let her hand fall back to the bed. “I am sorry,” she said, feeling the press of tears in her eyes, but they didn’t come. Did she not have enough water in her body to shed tears?
Alec ran his hand up one side of his face to pinch the bridge between his eyes. He blinked several times. “I am the one who is sorry. For leaving ye, for leaving my family there with a demented enemy. For leaving ye where ye were trapped on Kisimul.”
She slid her hand across the blanket to his knee, resting it there, wanting the feel of contact. “Kisimul saved us.” Her eyes opened wider as she realized the children weren’t in the cottage. “Cinnia and Weylyn?”
“Well,” he answered quickly, and a smile spread across his mouth. His eyes shut momentarily. “Because of ye, Mairi.” He leaned closer, touching her face again as if to make sure she was still without fever. “Ye saved them, sacrificed yourself to keep them unharmed.”
Tears did manage to form in her stinging eyes, one pearling out over her bottom lid. “I love them.”
He caught the tear on his knuckle. His face serious. “Mairi, I—” but behind him someone pushed up to stand.
“Is she talking in her sleep again?” It was her mother.
“Nay,” Alec said, his lips turning up as he kept the connection between their gazes. “The fever broke.”
“What?” Mairi’s mother jumped to her bedside. “Mairi,” she cried, pushing past Alec with elbows and skirts. Her hands slid down Mairi’s face, her lips puckering to press on her forehead, testing the temperature like she had when she was a child. Mairi inhaled the familiar scent of home that her mother carried with her.
“Thank the good Lord,” Joan cried, wiping her hand down Mairi’s arms and stomach. “Ye’re soaked.” She smiled widely. “Not a bit of fever.”
The chill from her wet clothes made her shiver. “My back bloody hell hurts,” Mairi said, her voice sounding caked in sand. “And my neck from lying here.”
Another body rose from behind Alec. How many people were sleeping on the floor of Millie’s cottage? “She’s cursing. That’s a good sign.” Tor’s face came into the glow of the candle flickering on the bedside table.
Alec lifted her slowly to sit. She cursed softly. “My back?” she asked. She met Alec’s gaze. “From the fire.”
“Aye,” Alec said. “Ye have a bad burn, but it’s healing.”
“Millie started using snail slime on the burns immediately,” Joan said with a nod toward the woman who had woken on some instinct. Millie brought over a cup of something steaming. “And feverfew and honey for your throat,” Joan said, taking the cup with a smile and nod. Millie grinned down at Mairi and pressed her fingers against the pulse in Mairi’s wrist. She nodded to Joan, her face seeming to relax as if great relief released all the tiny muscles amongst her wrinkles.
The brew wet Mairi’s mouth and slid down her throat, clearing it.
“We need to change her smock and sheets,” Joan said and flapped her hands to shoo Alec and Tor out of the room.
“I will be just outside,” Alec said and bent to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering as if he, too, wanted to test the coolness of her skin.
Daisy’s brothers followed Millie to where she had a folded pile of sheets near the hearth. “Millie likes the dogs?” Mairi asked, afraid to ask about her sweet Daisy. She blinked, her face pinching toward despair.
“They dragged her from the burning great hall when she was unconscious,” Alec said from the doorway where he stopped, his gaze meeting hers. Such emotion sat in his eyes, yet he just smiled. “Daisy is sleeping with the children. She is fine.”
…
“Mairi!” Weylyn yelled, running inside the cottage, Daisy on his heels. Bathed, dressed, combed, and fed, Mairi sat up on the low bed that had held her these past weeks. Weylyn and Daisy pushed past Mairi’s mother to jump up onto the bed. The jarring pulled at Mairi’s back, but she kept her smile.
“Careful,” Joan scolded. Daisy licked furiously at Mairi’s hand as Weylyn pulled her back.
Mairi laughed and felt tears press hard in her eyes. It seemed she cried easier now. “My sweet pup.”
Weylyn smiled hugely. “She barked and ran to Da when he swam onshore. Then she barked at the well to tell everyone where we were.” He scratched Daisy’s head. “Such a smart girl.”
Mairi looked at Alec who was walking in with a load of cut peat. “Ye swam? At night, in the North Atlantic.”
“My da’s rotting boat was the only one not burning, and it sank halfway across,” Alec said, lowering his burden beside the hearth.
Weylyn jounced the bed with excitement, and Mairi winced slightly. “Did ye tell her about the mansion—?”
“Stop bouncing her,” Alec said.
“Mairi, Mairi!” Cinnia ran inside, her hands clutching wildflowers. Their red, pink, and purple heads bobbed on stems. “Ye’re awake!”
Mairi smiled broadly as Cinnia dropped the flowers in her lap and bent to gingerly hug her. She looked perfectly sound, just like Weylyn, and relief nearly reduced Mairi to a puddle of sobs.
“Ye’re hurting her,” Alec said, his hands reaching out to haul them back.
Mairi shook her head and sniffed. “I’m just relieved they are well.”
“We are,” Cinnia said. “Thanks to ye. I never would have gone down that well without ye coaxing me, showing me how brave ye were even after being locked in the trunk at Kilchoan.” She looked at Alec. “She’s the bravest lady I’ve ever met.”
Mairi’s breath stopped in her chest as she met Alec’s hard gaze. She could read the lethal promise in his face. Cinnia must have told him her story about eluding her stepson while at Kilchoan. Normand MacInnes’s days were few if he ever showed himself again.
Outside, Millie’s chickens squawked, and Daisy ran out the door barking. Tor swung in through the doorway. “There are riders approaching.”
Alec’s face tightened in impatience. “It’s becoming more crowded by the minute,” he said.
Mairi flexed her toes where they sat on the wood floor. Everything felt stiff. “Ye’re used to a huge, empty castle around ye.” Millie handed her another cup of fragrant, heavily honeyed brew, and she took a sip. It soothed away any vestiges of sore throat.
Outside, horses clopped in the pebbled courtyard. “Where is she?” came a voice out front. “Mairi? Joan?” Ava Maclean, Tor’s wife, rushed inside the door. She had her young babe strapped to her chest. Grace Ellington, her companion and half sister, followed. “Oh, thank the good Lord,” Ava said and bent before Mairi to hug her, one hand supporting baby Hazel.
“Mind her back,” Joan said. “It’s badly burned.”
“Absolutely horrible,” Grace said and squeezed Mairi’s other hand.
“What are ye two doing here? And the wee one?” Mairi asked.
Tor walked inside, pulling Ava in to him, his thumb brushing softly at Hazel’s pink cheek as he leaned over both of them. His joy at seeing his wife warred with his grumpy expression. “Aye, what are ye doing here?”
“Two weeks is too long to go without a word,” Ava retorted. “And don’t start yelling at Gavin. Grace and I were going to leave with Hazel on our own. It was either lock us up—”
“Which he knew he couldn’t do without getting a knife in his damned gut,” Grace said, making a slashing motion with her hand. In the lovely riding habit and fine hood that she wore, the brandishing and swearing was comic. Mairi fought to keep her smile from bursting into laughter.
“Lock us up or come along with us,” Ava said and punctuated her explanation with a sharp nod.
“He took six others with us to help keep Hazel safe,” Grace added. “We were perfectly fine. Rose ordered some of Cullen’s men to guard Aros, while you all were occupied up here. Thus, there’s no need to be concerned about home.” Her delicate English accent floated about them in humorous contrast to the homey cottage strewn with healing tinctures and poultice wraps.
Tor kissed Ava, bringing a rosy stain to her cheeks, and helped her unwrap Hazel to take his bairn into his arms.
“Ye didn’t have to come all this way,” Mairi said.
“Pish,” Ava said, waving her hand. “We should have left with Joan when Cullen first came to collect her. We needed to make sure ye hadn’t been killed in that terrible fire.”
“It takes a lot to kill a Maclean,” Joan said and sat on the bed next to Mairi. Her mother pulled her into a hug without hurting her back at all. How did mothers do that?
“My,” Grace continued, studying Alec. “You must be the ferocious Wolf of Kisimul.” She let her gaze wander appreciatively over Alec’s brawny arms and chest, making Mairi’s smile tighten.
“Alec MacNeil, the chief of Barra Island and Kisimul,” Mairi said for introduction. “And the man who rescued me from wedding Geoff MacInnes.” And my husband, sat right on the tip of Mairi’s tongue, but she kept it there. Alec had said he’d married her before the stars and that it was up to her to complete the union with her oath. But when she’d tried before…the pain of his rejection stung worse than her back. She swallowed and looked away from him. “And this is Millie,” she introduced. “I’ve taken up her bed for the last two weeks.”
Millie brushed off the gratitude with a smile and some signs with her hands.
“She says that ye would do the same for her,” Alec said. “That ye are a hero for saving the children.” He looked to Ava and Grace. “Millie doesn’t hear. She reads lips and uses her hands to speak.”
Ava smiled. “Saved the children? It sounds like there’s quite a story to be told.”
“It could be a whole ballad to the brave and beautiful Mairi Maclean,” Cullen called from the open window as he grinned inside. “I think I’ll write it.” He winked at Mairi. Years ago, the gesture would have set Mairi’s heart racing, but not now. She glanced to Alec, who wore a frown as he eyed Cullen. But then Rose, Cullen’s new wife, appeared beside him in the window.
“Mon dieu, Cullen,” Rose said, rolling her eyes at him before returning to smile broadly at Mairi. “’Tis so good to see you awake,” she said in her French accent.
“Ye came all this way,” Mairi said, shaking her head. “I didn’t even know the MacDonalds and Duffies had a ship.”
“We don’t,” Cullen said with a grin. “But a few choice words from my fierce wife—”
“Along with the combined force of Gavin’s men from Aros and Cullen’s uncle’s men from Dunyvaig,” Grace added.
“Persuaded Geoff MacInnes that he needed to turn around and sail us back to Barra,” Rose finished.
“Good God,” Mairi whispered. “Ye have all been busy while I just slept.”
“Sleep is healing,” Ava said, drawing Grace closer to spy down the back of Mairi’s loose dress. “The burn is extensive.” Millie signed about the snail slime poultice she was using while Mairi and Alec translated.
“Wonderful,” Ava said.
“Millie started it before I arrived,” Joan said. “Working swiftly may have been what saved Mairi.” Joan sniffed with her smile, nodding her head at Millie.
Millie pointed to a corner where she had a number of flat rocks stacked. “God’s teeth,” Grace said. “Look at all these snails.” Millie beamed as she waved them toward the doorway, and they followed.
“She has more outside,” Alec said, walking toward Mairi, his frown still in place. He bent before her and picked up a foot to place a slipper on it. Then the other.
“Are we going somewhere?” Mairi asked, a smile bright on her lips. Joan had barely let her stand, let alone venture outdoors.
“Somewhere not so damn crowded.”
“A charred Kisimul is looking pretty good right now, isn’t it?” Mairi asked as he helped her up to stretch her legs. Alec didn’t say anything, his face grim. Mairi touched his cheek. “We will rebuild.”
His gaze snapped down to hers. “We?”
“Mairi?” A timid voice pulled her attention to the door where Bessy stood. There were tears in her eyes, her fingers gripping the doorframe.
Mairi smiled at her, and Bessy ran inside, arms outstretched. “I am so sorry.” Tears ran down her face as she pressed into Mairi, hugging without touching her back. “My brother threatened to kill me if I said anything about the priest being a Cameron. I didn’t know their plans.”
“Alec told me ye killed him,” Mairi whispered against the side of Bessy’s face. Bessy shook as if the memory was washing over her.
“He wouldn’t let me pull Millie out of the hall that was on fire. Said she should die, too.” Her gaze moved to Alec. “That she was like a mother to The MacNeil and needed to die with the rest of his family.” She turned back to Mairi. “He dragged me out into the bailey, but he didn’t expect me to be carrying a blade.” She swallowed hard and wiped her face. “When I returned for Millie, the two dogs had pulled her free of the room, but I couldn’t get through it to the well room door.”
Mairi lay her palm on Bessy’s cold hand. “I always knew ye were brave.”
As if her kind words were the squeeze on sopping rags, tears welled over Bessy’s lower lids to re-wet her cheeks. “But I was terribly frightened,” she whispered.
“It’s how we act that makes us brave.” Mairi looked toward the open window where the babble of voices rose and fell with French, English, and Scots accents. “Have ye met my family yet?” What a beautifully tangled family she had. Bessy shook her head, her face paling. Mairi indicated the door. “They don’t bite.”
Alec caught Mairi’s hand, bending his face down to her. “Ye said we.”
“What?” she asked, looking up into his handsome face. He was frowning, but his eyes were alert, searching.
“Just a minute ago, about rebuilding Kisimul, ye said—”
“Mairi,” Tor yelled inside. “Looks like Ava, Grace, and Rose frightened poor Geoff enough to make him give back your dowry.”
Alec cursed under his breath and straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest to frown at Tor as he walked in. “Good, ye’re up,” he said and took her arm, leading her out into the sunshine where a cart was parked, her dowry trunk tied to the back.
“The ladies of Mull and Islay are a powerful force,” Mairi said.
Cinnia ran up to her with a crown of wildflowers in her hands. “Here, for ye.” Bluebells, daisies, and bright yellow trefoil flowers were intertwined into a ring. “In celebration of ye being well again.”
“It’s lovely,” Mairi said, bending for her to place it on her loose hair, which her mother had brushed into gleaming after her morning bath. “Thank ye.” When she stood up, Rose came to give her a gentle squeeze.
Alec took Mairi’s arm. “We?” he said near her ear. “We need to talk. Ye said we.” He led her around the cart where one of her brother’s warriors from Aros helped Tor unload the dowry trunk.
“Mairi,” Gavin said with a large grin. “Good to see ye up.” His smile hardened, making his youth fade away to maturity. “Geoff sends his apologies,” he said, his gaze moving to Alec with a nod. “Ye are free from your betrothal.”
Alec snorted. “She was free the moment she left Kilchoan.” He tried to lead her away, but Tor’s second-in-command, Hamish, came to give her a kiss, and then Broc Duffie. With each person, Alec’s face tightened until his glance was razor sharp. Mairi hid her grin. The man, used to his solitude, was ready to explode in all the commotion.
Mairi’s mother walked over. “I think Mairi should go back inside out of the sun.”
“The sun feels wonderful,” Mairi said.
Alec’s voice boomed. “And we are going for a ride.”
“What? She’s not up to it yet,” Joan said. “She’ll lose her seat.”
“Not sitting before me.” Alec continued to lead Mairi away from the clusters of people in Millie’s courtyard. They walked slowly behind Millie’s swayback, thatched barn where Sköll stood, looking quite out of place in the crude dwelling.
He left her to lean against the stone wall as he quickly saddled his horse. Mairi was tired from the activity, but watching Alec, the muscles of his arms and back flexing and moving, kicked up her pulse. Without a word, he led the horse and then Mairi outside, lifting her into the large saddle. He swung up behind, pulling her intimately against his inner thighs. His kilt rode up, giving her a beautiful view of his tanned, powerful legs. Memories of those legs intertwined with her own rose up inside Mairi, making her cheeks warm. She touched her palm to one. When had she started to blush like a prim, innocent lass?
“Where are we going?” she asked.
His breath was warm on her ear, and her inhale caught. “Somewhere private.” He set his horse into a rolling canter across the green grass of the meadow and uphill toward the knoll overlooking Kisimul, where they’d first made love under the stars. Despite the sun, the breeze was cool, and she shivered in Alec’s arms. He bent back, slowing the horse, and whipped out a wool blanket to cover her, wrapping them together.
As they crested the knoll, Mairi’s gaze turned to Kisimul, the proud fortress in the sea. It looked…cursed. The fire must have been fierce. Black painted the upper turrets behind the great hall where the fire had licked up to bring down the upper bedrooms. The gray stone stood solemn and still. The MacNeil Wolf flag didn’t fly from the wall. The ferry wasn’t docked. “It looks lonely,” she said, her words caught in the breeze.
Alec dismounted and reached up to pull her off, setting her down in the swaying grass, speckled with wild daisies. “No one is on Kisimul. It is cursed.”
Mairi looked into his face. His expression was hard, tortured. “Kisimul isn’t cursed,” Mairi said. “It saved us, its walls too strong to fall in the fire.”
He exhaled long. “I am so sorry.”
“Ye didn’t—”
“I left ye there, with a madman. Ye were locked inside.”
“But Kisimul protected us in the end,” she said.
He exhaled and looked at it, bulky and burned like a scorched carcass in the bay. “I was raised there, raised alone. It was all I knew. It stood for MacNeil strength.”
“It still does,” she said. “And we can rebuild it.”
He turned to her, searching her eyes. “Ye said we.”
Mairi took Alec’s hands. “Aye.” She met his gaze, suddenly unsure. “Ye said on the ship that night.” She glanced down at her toes peeking from her skirts. “That ye had given me your oath. That I needed to give ye the oath back, and we’d be wed. I tried.” She looked up to meet his eyes. They were such a beautiful stormy blue in the sunlight. “I will stay with ye, even on Kisimul. As long as I’m with ye, no matter where that is, I am yours. Before ye and God, I swear this.”
Mairi blinked, realizing that tears sat in her eyes. Blushing and weeping; what had love done to her? Love. Aye, that was the squeeze she felt in her chest as she waited for Alec to respond.
He drew her in to him, his hand going to her hair to fix her flower crown. His fingers trailed down through her waves to her shoulder, and his sensuous mouth softened. “Ye swore.”
She nodded. “I can’t imagine leaving here.” She swallowed. “Leaving ye. Even if we are on Kisimul.”
“Curses are made of fear and discontent,” he said, using her words. He shook his head. “I will give ye the freedom to leave, though know wherever ye go, I will follow. When I thought I’d lost ye, I knew…I knew for certain that I love ye, Mairi.”
Mairi blinked against the tears swimming in her vision and stepped closer into his arms. “I love ye, too, Alec MacNeil. I’m not going anywhere.”
Alec cupped her cheeks and lowered his mouth to hers as she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck. Their lips met urgently and completely, a continual oath to each other, sealing it with something stronger than words. The sun beat down, the fresh breeze blowing as God and all creation witnessed Mairi and Alec’s union. Sealed completely with a kiss that was given and taken with absolute love.
“Ho there,” came Kenneth’s voice, making Alec slowly break the kiss. But his gaze remained connected to Mairi.
“Shall we make it official then?” Ian called.
Alec turned, pulling Mairi into his side. Lips still damp with their oath, Mairi stared out at the procession coming up onto the knoll. “Oh my,” she breathed. A mass of people walked toward them, Weylyn and Cinnia, running in front with Daisy. Kenneth slapped Alec on the back.
“I take it she said aye,” Ian said, working his still-bound leg under him, his arm propped on a crutch. He smiled at Mairi.
“I did,” she said. “But…?” Her arm went out to the people trudging up the hill. Her family in the lead, but followed by Barra villagers, several ladies around Millie. One of the women shrieked as Millie’s dogs flew past her to run up the hill with Daisy, Ares, and Alec’s wolfhounds.
“They’ve come to see their chief wed,” Ian said.
Kenneth looked out toward the large group. “Your priest from Mull came and has agreed to save our souls until another cleric can be found for Barra. He can bless ye and bless the ground as well.”
“The ground?” Mairi asked, looking down at the grass where the daisies waved up at her.
Alec pulled her around to face him. “We are building, but not on Kisimul. This hill is where our home will be.”
“But Kisimul?” she asked.
“We will rebuild, but we will not live there. If Weylyn or Cinnia wish to return when they leave home, they can, but they will have the choice. Otherwise, Kisimul will be used for official functions and as a refuge if Barra is in danger.”
Mairi looked out at the bay, remembering the view in the dark with stars overhead. “This meadow is our special place,” she whispered and looked to Alec.
“Aye, lass.” He bent close to her ear. “Where I will love ye under the stars.” His words sent a sensual shiver down through Mairi, and she turned to kiss him again.
Someone cleared his throat. “I believe there are some oaths to take before the kiss.” Father Kenan smiled, his bushy brows raised, and Mairi released her hold on Alec. By then the group of over a hundred people had made it up, filling their grassy hill. Children chased butterflies and dragonflies amongst the flowers. Dogs chased the children, making them laugh and tumble. And people clustered around, smiling and shushing one another.
It was the most beautiful of days, and Mairi tipped her face to the blue sky. With Father Kenan’s words, they repeated their oaths for the crowd, and before the clergy could suggest it, Alec pulled her back into his arms.
“Ye are no longer the lone Wolf of Kisimul Castle,” Mairi said, smiling into his face.
“And ye are no longer its captive,” he said. “Ye are Mairi MacNeil, and I love ye.”
“Come here,” she said, tugging him down. “I love ye, too.”
As their lips met, a cheer rose through the crowd, but Mairi lost herself in the power wrapping around her, protecting her and freeing her at the same time. The power of love.
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