Chapter Nine
Mairi looked like an avenging angel atop the table, hair spread out in golden disarray, arms wide in proclamation. Betrothed? He didn’t think for a second that she meant it. She’d obviously been eavesdropping and sought to stop the spilling of blood.
With two strides, Alec positioned himself before her, his hounds growling and snapping while Mairi’s ill-trained dog barked and scampered about the legs of Cameron’s men. Alec’s blood pumped as he waited for his childhood acquaintance—turned adversary—to make a move.
Angus had been a tyrannous bastard while they were lads, and his penchant for blustery orders and self-abiding nature made him difficult to like. Alec was the only lad who’d stood up to him, and, after one particular pounding that he’d given Angus, he’d gained the boy’s respect. Any friendship between them was owed to distance and irregular meetings.
Offering help was different from demanding Alec marry his sister, and Alec wasn’t about to let someone threaten him in his own hall. “I think it is time ye leave Kisimul,” Alec said slowly. “And Barra.”
“Betrothed?” Angus drew out the word. His eyebrows caved even farther toward his scrunched nose. “Already. Ye made no mention of it when I wrote to ye about my sorrow over Joyce.” Slowly the man lowered his sword. Macrae followed, as did his men.
“Who are ye, lass?” Angus asked.
Alec’s men kept their swords drawn, and would continue to until he lowered his own. With Mairi exposed behind him, he wasn’t going to. “She is—”
“I am Mairi…Sinclair, from the far north. My father was called home before the wedding could occur, but left me with his wishes. We will wed after the harvest. I need time to plan.”
“Sinclair? John Sinclair is the chief,” Angus said.
“I am a cousin’s daughter,” Mairi went on.
Alec felt her hand land on his shoulder as if it was the most natural occurrence. The feel of it brought back the sensation of her clinging to him during their kiss. She climbed down onto a chair, finally finding the floor, releasing her hold.
Angus met Alec’s gaze. “Well, that changes things,” he said. “Put down your damn sword, MacNeil. If ye’d just said ye were already engaged, I wouldn’t have had to defend my sister’s honor.”
Bessy’s honor was in danger only from her crass brother. “I hope, Bessy, ye did not take offense.” Alec lowered his sword but did not sheath it. Bessy came a bit closer, her gaze closing in on Mairi. “Since I cannot take your generous offer, Angus, ye may leave Kisimul now.”
“Now?” The large man’s face relaxed in a wide grin. “The Wolf of Kisimul isn’t given to neighborly hospitality, are ye? ’Tis dark, and the voyage back to the mainland, long.”
“Certainly, we can let them stay the night,” Mairi said, as if she were already the woman of the keep. Moving out from behind Alec, she strode over to Bessy and tipped her head, linking her arm through hers. “Welcome to Kisimul, Lady Bessy. The children and I will find ye a room in which to refresh yourself. Although we do not currently have a cook, Cinnia made some lovely tarts earlier today, which I will send up.” As if moving around armed, hardened men were nothing to worry over, Mairi wove Bessy and herself through them toward Alec.
“Thank ye,” Bessy said. Relief lay heavy across her narrow shoulders. Was it relief at Mairi’s rescue or the fact she wouldn’t be forced to marry him? The woman was as timid as a beaten dog. The thought piqued at Alec’s already thin control around her overbearing brother. The ladies continued up the steps to the second level.
Angus scratched the back of his large head. “She’s a right bossy piece of fleece.” He grinned at Alec. “Ye’ll have your hands full bringing her to heel.”
With Mairi out of the room, Alec sheathed his sword. He looked to Kenneth. “The soldiers’ barracks along the wall has an extra room for Angus?”
“Aye,” Kenneth said, his usual grin gone.
Alec turned back to the man. “Ye may stay on Kisimul since Bessy is here.” His gaze moved to Macrae. “Ye and Angus’s men can sleep on ship. There will be bannocks and ham in the morning.” Macrae nodded.
“Ah now,” Angus said, coming closer, his arm extended to thump Alec’s shoulder. “Let us celebrate your upcoming alliance with the Sinclairs.” Angus crooked his head with his smile. “Might ye have a barrel of whisky about?”
Alec kept his curse inside. It was going to be a long night.
…
Fog, grayish white, wafted before Mairi as she picked her way across the rocks, Daisy at her feet. She drew the shawl around her to block the moist chill that clung to the earth as dawn broke. The tide was low, exposing a wide beach of barnacle-covered boulders around the outside wall of the castle. Mairi looked toward where the village should be, but could see only the swirls of fog lit from the east as the rising sun fought to burn through it. She knew George Macrae’s ship was moored somewhere nearby, but the thick gray blocked its bulk. She shivered slightly as the fog drifted by, almost like a snake encircling her.
Daisy picked her way over the slick boulders, covered with dark seaweed, slipping a few times where her nails couldn’t dig in. “If ye fall in the rot, ye’ll have to endure a cold bath before I let ye back in my bed,” she warned.
“I will keep that in mind,” came a voice, making Mairi gasp the wet air as she turned. Alec’s large frame emerged from the thick fog toward her, his boots planting firmly on the exposed areas. “’Tis not much of a threat since I already wash in frigid water daily.”
The lines of his hair and face grew crisp as he stepped closer, the fog seeming to part for its master. Plaid wrapped around his waist, the end slung up over his shoulder, white linen shirt against tanned skin, his sword sheathed against his hip, he looked like a Highland warrior crossing a moor toward battle.
“I was speaking of the dog,” she replied.
Daisy sniffed at Alec’s boots and then leaped to chase a small crab amongst the rocks. Alec perused the swirling gray. “Looking for an escape?”
“I wouldn’t be much of a prisoner if I wasn’t.” Truthfully, Mairi just longed to feel the breeze and listen to the water after the long night of readying a room and visiting with the sulky Bessy Cameron. The woman barely spoke, but looked so forlorn that Mairi hadn’t wanted to leave her until she was ready to sleep.
Mairi stood on an elevated boulder. With sure footing, Alec stepped before her onto the sand, made of crushed shells, to bring his gaze level with hers. The fog encased them, making it seem as if they stood together in a small space instead of outside. “The Camerons are allies of the MacNeils,” he said, his voice low. “But I do not know the breadth of their honor, Mairi. And I do not know much about George Macrae. It would be unwise for ye to approach them alone.”
She raised one eyebrow. “Even if they think I belong to the ruthless Wolf of Kisimul?” She tilted her head to the side in question.
His mouth turned up at the corners. “If ye were to ask for passage away from Kisimul, they would know the betrothal is false. Without my formal claim, ye might have a bigger problem than me keeping ye comfortable in my castle.” He stared intently into her eyes. “The walls of Kisimul protect ye.”
“The walls of Kisimul imprison me,” she whispered back. Mairi sighed and rolled her eyes, breaking the connection. “I’m not trying to jump on the Macrae’s boat, Alec.” She turned toward the billows of mist and stepped off her perch to stand at the water’s edge. “Just needed some freedom from walls. Ye get to journey off Kisimul whenever ye want. Those of us kept comfortable at Kisimul are not afforded the same liberty.”
Mairi lowered her shawl to let the mist feather across her cheeks and breathed in the sea air. The tang of tide reminded her of Aros. Home. A crunch of shells made Mairi hold her breath, her senses straining to detect just how close Alec had come without turning toward him.
“I will take ye across to Barra,” he said directly behind her.
She didn’t turn, continuing to follow the ribbons of mist before her. “When I agree to wed ye, I know.”
“Mairi,” he said as his hand covered her shoulder. It was warm and heavy, a tether in the fog. He turned her toward him. “I will take ye once the fog clears and Angus leaves.”
She frowned up at him. “Why so generous?”
“I would have ye see the beauty that is Barra. The isle may be small compared to Mull, but its white, sandy beaches and blue-water shallows flanked by wildflowers are quite bonny. Cinnia especially loves to pick bunches to weave into crowns.” He encircled the top of her hair with one finger. The soft touch caused a ticklish chill to coat Mairi, making her body come alive. How could such a light touch feel…intimate and luring? She blinked as she searched his darkly handsome features, feeling his strength like the fortress jutting up behind him. What would it be like to have him touch her body like that? Such gentle power in his fingers?
“I…” She tore her gaze from his and looked down, clearing her throat slightly. “I would like that. I made many wildflower crowns as a lass on Mull. I challenge Barra to provide as breathtaking bounty of flowers as I’m accustomed.” She looked back into his face.
He chuckled, and merriment lit his features. Her heart thumped harder at the transformation. The Wolf of Kisimul could smile, and when he did, he made her want to… Mairi’s smile faded at her treasonous desires. She turned from him, looking outward where the body of the Macrae’s large vessel was a bulky shape, a hundred yards out in the bay. The fog was beginning to lose the battle against the sun.
“Shall we return before the children worry ye’ve fallen down the well?” Alec asked, extending his arm.
Mairi took one more breath of mist and nodded. “I’m holding ye to your offer, though.”
He raised his eyebrows. “The offer of marriage?”
She smacked him in the chest, feeling the hard muscle underneath the linen shirt. “Nay. The offer to tour Barra and see your paltry wildflowers.”
“Ah yes,” he said, taking her arm to help her over the boulders. “Artemis,” he called.
“Daisy,” she called with a treasonous scrunch of her nose at Alec.
She didn’t know which name beckoned her dog, but the sweet pup bounded and skittered over the rocks to follow them back up to the castle.
…
“’Tis a bonny day, MacNeil,” Angus bellowed in the courtyard. The sun was high, and all traces of the thick fog were gone, once more exposing Kisimul to whoever studied it on shore.
“A good day for sailing,” Alec answered, about ready to throw the onerous man into the bay. Angus had drunk half his barrel of whisky the night before, snored enough to drive Kenneth and Ian to sleep in the hall instead of in beds in the barracks, and was now acting like he was an invited guest.
Angus laughed. “Throwing me off Kisimul?”
“Aye,” Alec said, walking to the door in the thick wall encircling the keep and bailey. He’d been watching the fog lift and Tor Maclean’s ship depart all morning. The weather had cooperated perfectly to keep Mairi shrouded, and her searchers should be gone for at least a week while they visited the northern isles.
He’d told Angus the ship was a northern trader, and the man barely looked at it. With Alec’s two large sailing vessels, moored in the bay, one more ship moving about hadn’t elicited questions from Mairi, and now she was safely tucked behind the walls of Kisimul as her brother sailed away. Alec ignored the twist of guilt in his gut.
“Then let us go to Barra,” Angus said, pulling Alec’s thoughts. “I’ve wanted to show Bessy your beaches. The land on Barra is exceedingly fertile. ’Twould be a good place to have a home. She may wish to stay even if ye don’t wed her.”
Alec narrowed his eyes. “Ye would abandon your sister here without family or husband?”
Angus stuck his finger in his ear, scratching at it. “That sounds quite ignoble, MacNeil. I was thinking she hasn’t been happy at home and might wish to stay, maybe meet another MacNeil.” He gestured toward Kenneth, who worked with the two male dogs Alec hoped to give Millie. “Like your cousin there. Young, handsome, strong enough to handle a wife.” He laughed as if the thought of anyone needing strength to handle his obedient sister was absurd.
“Bessy is welcome to stay on Barra if she wishes it, but I cannot keep an eye on her for ye. And as the raid last fall shows, it is not safe for a woman alone, even on a distant island in the sea.”
Angus flapped his hand as if shooing a fly. “Bessy would be fine, but I’d have her see the isle first.”
The man just wanted to be rid of his sister. Damnation. “I plan to take Mairi and the children for a trip on the far side of Barra today. Bessy can come if she likes.”
Angus clapped his hands together, making the dogs spin toward him, barking, tails between their legs. “Excellent, I will tell Bessy to be ready for me to take her.” He strode off while a tightness curled in the muscles of Alec’s gut. He’d invited Bessy, not Angus, but it would be strategically foolish to alienate the Camerons just because their chief was a crass, wheedling annoyance.
He strode over to Kenneth, who was using gentle words to remind the new dogs that they were safe. Kenneth hid a yawn behind a fist. “Does the man ever stay quiet?” he asked.
Alec could hear Angus Cameron yelling for Bessy inside the hall. “If he’s silent, he’s either dead or up to something.”