Chapter Twenty-Three
“’Tis the MacDonald.”
Brodie’s gaze followed Ross’s tilt of the head but didn’t make it past the slim form whose back was turned toward him.
He didn’t need to see her face. It was Skye, with her long hair billowing in the wind, as her beautiful hands flew through the air to make some point while Alastair MacDonald looked on.
After leaping over the side of the boat, he strode toward them.
Ross called out, “Guard yer left side. That wound is no’ yet healed.” He said something else, but the words didn’t register.
Brodie still had doubts whether Skye would leave with him or if he could convince the MacDonald that he was worthy of her affections, but life wouldn’t be worth living without her.
Whether she wanted to be with him was irrelevant at this point. He had to get her off this island. An army of MacLean men was headed this way, and if the MacDonald didn’t hand over their laird, a war was about to take place.
And he had to let the MacDonald know of the danger his proposed marriage to the MacPherson clan posed. Surely, he would dissolve the agreement when he learned Argyll would stop at nothing to seal alliances with the other clan, ensuring they sided with the Covenanters in the ongoing battle for loyalties.
The MacDonald’s gaze landed on him. Brodie gritted his teeth.
Show no fear.
The laird said something to the man beside him without taking his eyes from Brodie, and Skye’s figure disappeared down the shoreline.
Squaring his shoulders, he strode to within arm’s length and pinned the laird with a determined gaze.
“I have come for Skye. I want her as my wife.”
“Ye are too late. She is already betrothed,” Alastair MacDonald answered.
Collin MacPherson appeared at the MacDonald’s side and glared at him. He’d not been on the boat with the rest of the disembarking MacDonald men and had just joined the group.
“Nae. ’Twould be a mistake. She belongs with me, and the marriage puts her in danger.”
The laird’s headed tilted, so Brodie plowed forward, “The Earl of Argyll willnae allow a Royalist match with the MacPhersons.” Sparing a glance toward Collin, whose jaw tightened, he continued, “He wishes to wed a Campbell to this one. He thinks ’twill get the MacPherson laird to swear loyalty to the Covenanters. He offered a reward for Skye’s death or capture as soon as she was gone from Stirling.”
“My father would do no such thing,” Collin protested, but Brodie thought he could hear a drop of doubt.
Alastair MacDonald’s gaze drifted from his for the first time, taking dark and deadly aim on the MacPherson man, then calming and returning to meet his unwavering stare. “What if she doesnae wish to go with ye?”
“Let me speak with her, and she can tell ye herself.”
“Did ye no learn from last time?”
Fifteen or so of the MacDonald’s men stood nearby, and he would face them all if need be. Despite their number, he would fight until he couldn’t. He braced for the beating that was sure to come.
“Aye, I did learn. I didnae fight hard enough.” The MacDonald’s lip curled up slightly as something almost like approval danced in his eyes.
“Then show me ye are the right man to keep her safe.” The laird nodded to the man at his side. “Collin, I think ’twill be between the two of ye. After all, ye have also come a long way to seek her hand.”
“Uncle.” He thought he heard Skye’s voice carry in the wind.
Collin stepped closer as the other men backed away then made a show of taking the claymore from his back and throwing it to the ground. Brodie did the same.
The man took up a fighting stance with fists raised just below chest level, and he was assailed with a sense of calm he’d not expected when it dawned on him—the man wasn’t intent on Skye as his prize. If he were, he would have held on to that sword, because she was a bounty worth dying for.
Matching Collin’s position, he pulled his shoulders back and felt the stretch of skin where the wound in his side had been stitched.
“I dinnae like to see a lass cry.”
Skye. Why is she crying?
Bam, Collin’s fist hit his cheek and Brodie’s body twisted with the motion. Shaking his head, he returned to the fighting position that so far had proven to be useless.
“Ye dishonor my clan with yer accusation.”
Och, ’tis the real reason the man is angry.
Collin lunged for his midsection and they both flew backwards. Air rushed from his lungs as they landed on the stony beach. He pivoted and was able to shake the brute.
The man dove at him again, but this time Brodie lifted his foot and caught Collin in the chest. Pushing out, his opponent fell back on his ass.
The brute scrambled to his feet, but so had Brodie, and he drove his fist into Collin’s face. Wincing as his knuckles collided with bone, a sharp pain assailed his hand with a sickening crunch. He shook it out.
Collin looked dazed, but threw another punch. He caught his opponent’s forearm and threw his other hand into the man’s cheek. Collin pulled him flush and then pushed out. Losing his grip on the man’s arm, Brodie stumbled.
The man’s fist sailed through the air, and Brodie easily dodged down and out of range. The brute threw another that he also also deflected. He swung, and Collin ducked in time to miss the blow.
“My father is nae Covenanter.” Steel hardened in the man’s voice. He charged again and they tumbled to the ground once more. Rolling over, Brodie jumped up first, but his side felt as if the stitches in it had ripped his skin apart.
Collin stood and was met with Brodie’s fist. The blow to the temple was wide and off its intended mark, but still the man looked dazed and fought to keep his footing.
“Stop!” Skye’s voice broke into his haze.
Brodie turned to see her running toward them.
“Ye arenae worthy of her,” Collin said. His next punch landed on Brodie’s left side. Dizziness enveloped him and he fought to keep his footing as his hand went to cover his injury.
Nae, he was good enough.
Inhaling sharply, he tried to catch his breath as the world started to spin. His hand felt warm and wet and he glanced down to see it covered in blood. Falling to his knees, he clutched at his side, fighting back the wave of nausea that assailed him, and struggled to his feet.
“Nae, Collin. Stop.” Skye’s voice broke through the wall of fog and suddenly, she stood between them.
Backing to him, she held out her arms in a protective stance. He tried to block out the sweet scent of her and the warmth that enveloped him at the light touch of her skirt swishing against his legs.
He gently took her by the shoulders and moved to the front of her, shielding her from Collin. “Move away, love. I dinnae want ye to get hurt.”
His gaze returned to Collin’s face where he thought he detected something like approval. Confused, he took a deep breath and out of the corner of his eye, saw a satisfied smirk on the laird’s face.
“Nae, Brodie. ’Twill be all right. This is my fault.” She laid her hand on his arm and smiled up at him. She looked at The MacDonald. “I wish to return with Brodie. I love him, Uncle. And Collin and I have spoken about it. He willnae hold my decision against the clan.” Her palm slid down Brodie’s arm and took his hand in hers.
His heart thumped out of his chest.
“All these years we have been separated because of a misunderstanding, and because I wasnae brave enough to seek out the answers I needed. ’Twas nothing Brodie did. ’Twas me and my stubborn pride.”
Her gaze returned to him and she squeezed his hand, warm and reassuring.
“I love Brodie. I want nothing more than to be with him the rest of my life.” His heart swelled and overran with sheer joy. “If he will have me.” Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip and he wanted desperately to put his mouth on hers, but some sense of preservation won out, thinking he should wait for her uncle’s approval before giving in, in front of the MacDonald’s men.
He lowered his temple to rest on hers. “Aye, love. I wouldnae have come to this godforsaken place if I didnae want ye.” He tried to laugh but the movement pulled at his wound and it came out as a shudder.
“Aye. ’Tis time ye both came to yer senses.” The MacDonald stepped forward and clasped him on the shoulder, causing him to stumble. Brodie’s other hand came up to steady himself on Skye’s arm.
She gasped. “Yer hurt.”
“Nae, ’twill be all right. I just need to sit a moment.”
Anger flashed in her steely green eyes as she pierced the MacDonald, then Collin. “Look what ye have done. Ye kenned he was injured.”
“Angus, help the Cameron lad up to Cairntay so we can have someone look at it.”
“He is nae a lad anymore and ’twill be my husband. Ye can call him Brodie.”
Did she just scold the MacDonald?
Men moved in to lift him under the shoulders, but he didn’t want to let go of Skye’s arm. Squeezing her hand, he shook his head.
“’Tis all right, Brodie.” Her hand brushed his cheek. “I promise, ’twill never leave yer side again.”
…
Skye bounded up the steep stone steps much lighter than when she’d come down. Her uncle was beside her, but she kept her gaze pinned on Brodie’s back. Her heart sang louder than the seagulls swooping near the shore as she took in the broad expanse of his shoulders and the way he tried not to lean on her uncle’s men.
He came for me.
“Skye.” A familiar voice burst into her thoughts.
“Ross. Ye came with Brodie?”
“Aye. I’m sorry about Neil. I didnae ken he would do something so desperate.” The remorse in his tone was genuine, so she nodded.
Turning her gaze back to Brodie, she asked, “How bad is his side?”
“’Tis no’ so bad. He probably just ripped the stitches.” Ross looked at her uncle, and she remembered why he must be here.
“Uncle, ’tis someone ye need to meet,” she said as they reached the summit of the long stone steps that led up to her uncle’s castle, Cairntay.
“I am Ross MacLean, son to the MacLean. I am here to see my father freed.”
Her uncle’s eye’s darkened. “Ye are the same MacLean who kidnapped my niece.” The menace that dripped from his voice was thicker than the heaviest mist she’d ever seen on the beach below. There was a reason men feared her uncle; he could be ruthless when crossed.
“He helped save my life, Uncle.”
“Ye wouldnae have been in trouble if it hadnae been for him.”
“I wouldnae have found Brodie again, either.”
He nodded then returned his stare to Ross. “The MacLean murdered a man in cold blood.” Anger dripped from each word.
“Nae, ’twas no’ my father. ’Twas the bandits who were trying to take Skye to Argyll. They had these.” Ross opened his pack and pulled out wads of material. He held out the cloth for inspection.
Angus stepped forward. “’Tis the MacDonald flag and a MacLean and Cameron in here as well.” He held one open for her uncle to see.
“Ye found these on the bandit who took Skye?”
“Aye. Brodie did. The one he beat lives and confessed to all the raids and the murder of yer man.”
“’Twas who had Niven’s dirk.” Skye put her hand on her uncle’s arm and noticed he had paled. He was probably thinking of how he’d held the MacLean laird without cause for almost three weeks.
“Ye will want to release him before my brothers get here with an army of MacLeans. They willnae be far behind me.”
Her uncle gave a slight nod. “Inside for some food and ale. I’ll have yer father join us.”
“I’m going to see to Brodie.” Knowing Ross would be safe in her uncle’s care, Skye smiled, wiggled around her uncle, and took off in a sprint to reach him. They’d made it so far she had almost lost sight of him. The men guided him through the doors of a stone building near the castle just as she arrived back at his side.
Warmth and the scent of strong whisky washed over her as she entered the small one room building. Her throat was tight and she pulled at the sudden weight of her clothes.
Since she’d arrived back at Skye, she’d been surrounded by a cold misty shroud she couldn’t shake. It had melted once she’d seen Brodie on the beach.
A wall lined with beds was empty but for one reclined man coughing in the cot farthest from the door. A graying woman sat by the fire. Setting her knitting down on a small table, she rose and pointed to an empty bed several away from the sick man.
After he lay down, the motherly woman inspected his wound in silence. Brodie recoiled as she poked at it.
Skye maneuvered to the other side of the bed and took his hand as fear returned at the sight of how pale he’d become. Pulling his cool hand to her lips, she savored the feel of his skin. He tasted of salt and wind.
The door swung open. “Skye, once ye are done in here, both of ye come and find me.”
She pulled back but didn’t let go. “Aye, Uncle,” she called as she peeked toward the door.
Her gaze returned to see Brodie’s fixed on her. It was warm and hopeful. The door banged shut. His finger traced the ring she still wore. “Ye didnae throw it away.”
“Nae. I havenae taken it from my finger.”
He let out a long breath then flinched when the woman working at his side poked him.
“Are ye all right?”
“I am now.”
“’Tis no’ much I can do for it.” The woman put her hands on her hips and looked at Skye instead of Brodie. Her heart dropped. “I will re-stitch it, but ’twill be up to ye to keep it clean and take care of him after that.”
“He will be all right?”
“Aye. Just needs time to heal properly. No sudden movements. He should stay in bed and keep still for a few days.” The woman studied her then Brodie. “Keep yer bed play gentle, too.”
Brodie laughed then groaned. Her cheeks heated and she pulled on her plaid at the suddenly warm room.
“Lean him up a bit and give him this.” The cup the healer passed her was filled with an amber liquid that made her nose twitch. The oak scent almost burned her nostrils. He’d feel nothing if he drank that.
“I’ll get my supplies.” The woman walked back toward cabinets near the door.
They still held hands but she reached with her other to run her fingers through his hair. “I didnae want to leave ye. My uncle sent me back before I could talk to him. I’m so sorry.”
“Why did ye no’ tell me ye were betrothed to Collin MacPherson earlier?”
“Why did it matter whom I was to wed? Ye never once told me ye wanted me to stay, then I found out ye were the Raven.”
“Argyll wants ye dead because he wishes to make an alliance with the MacPhersons. He wishes to change the MacPherson loyalties by marrying one of his cousins to Collin.”
It made sense the attacks started the day after her betrothal to Collin had been arranged.
“That should no longer be a problem, because I intend to spend the rest of my life with ye. And dinnae argue with me. If ye have to continue on with yer work, I’ll stand by ye and take the risks that come along with it. I dinnae want to be alone, but being without ye is worse.”
“The Raven is dead. No one will come looking for him. Marry me. There has never been anyone for me but ye, love.”
Elation sweeping in and carving out all the worry and doubt, she leaned into him and nestled her head into his chest. “I love ye, Brodie Cameron.” Tears threatened to fall with sheer joy.
“I love ye, too, stubborn lass.” Pulling back, his hands rested on her cheeks and his gaze met hers. “Promise me ye willnae leave me again.”
“I promise.”
His head tilted to hers and their lips touched. Gently, he ran them back and forth over hers in a tender caress that left her feeling loved. She closed her eyes and savored the sensation of Brodie on her lips, knowing she would always want more.
“Hey now, ye two. Lay back down and let me finish.”
…
A little later, they walked hand in hand into her uncle’s solar. Ross paced in front of the blazing fire as her uncle sat stony faced and brooding in his chair. There was no sign of the MacLean.
Skye said to her uncle, “I wish to marry Brodie before he realizes I’m a fool.”
“Ye arenae a fool.”
“Aye, I have been. Will ye send for the priest and give us yer blessing?”
“I already have.”
“Ye have to let Collin ken the Earl of Argyll is willing to murder anyone who stands in the way of him creating an alliance with the MacPhersons. ’Tis why he tried to have me killed.”
The MacLean strode into the room, his gaze flying toward Ross. Pride glowed in the matching stormy gray depths.
“’Twould seem the Earl of Argyll was trying to pit us against each other,” her uncle started.
They sat around a table while Ross and Skye filled the others in on the truth of the plot. Her uncle’s face showed little emotion as they recounted the tales.
“So it seems my men are on their way here. I am assuming ye dinnae wish to go to war with us and please Argyll?”
Her uncle nodded. “Aye, I would like to make things right, and the last thing I wish to do is please that arse.”
“Then I suggest we form an alliance.”
The MacDonald’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing, because he had wrongfully imprisoned the MacLean. What could he say without starting a war?
“Yer oldest son is unmarried.”
“Aye.”
Skye didn’t like where this was going and she was sure her uncle wouldn’t either, but some sort of recompense was called for.
“My daughter is in need of a husband.” The MacLean’s gaze pierced her uncle’s.
“Father. Isobel will—” Ross objected but his father cut him off with a quick, “psst,” then he looked back to her uncle.
“Do ye agree?”
Outrage, then resignation flashed in her uncle’s eyes. “Aye. ’Twill bring our clans together.”
Skye wanted to protest. She’d overheard Neil and Ross discussing his sister and knew she was far from the gentle sweet maiden that her cousin would prefer to replace the docile wife he’d lost shortly after his marriage. As her uncle had no choice, she bit her tongue.
“Then ’tis time I be getting back to my people before they attack yers. I’ll send word with arrangements after they have been made.” The MacLean stood and turned toward Ross.
“The wedding will be here.” Ross’s father froze then turned back at her uncle’s words.
For a moment it looked as if the MacLean would object, but her uncle continued, “My son will one day be the MacDonald. He will marry on the Isle of Skye in front of his clan.”
A few tense moments passed as the MacLean stood silent. “Aye, ’twill do.” Turning toward the door again, he called over his shoulder, “Ross, how do we get out of here?”
“Angus, get the MacLean’s horse and see them safely across to the other shore,” her uncle commanded the man who was standing just outside the door.
The MacLean nodded and strode from the room, apparently having had enough of her uncle’s hospitality. Ross nodded at them and followed his father from the room.
After they had disappeared into the hall, her uncle’s steady gaze turned to her and Brodie, who had come up to stand beside her.
“Ye wish to marry?”
“Aye, Uncle. I told ye.” She took Brodie’s hand and entwined her fingers with his.
“Ye are a man now and not the child who came to take her the first time. Do ye swear to love and protect her with everything in ye?”
“Her happiness and safety are all I want.” Brodie’s hold tightened on her hand.
“Then to the chapel. The priest is ready, but ye will be staying here until ye are healed, and I’ll have a group get ye home when ’tis time. And no more spying. Yer first duty is to my niece now.”
Brodie paused and she exchanged a knowing glance with him. Guessing that Lachlan must have told her uncle Brodie’s secret, she now understood the amusement that had shown in his eyes on the beach.
Brodie nodded to her uncle and somehow kept the smile from his face. His dimples peeked through his impassive gaze, and she suppressed the urge to giggle like a little lass herself.
Returning her uncle’s gaze, she asked, “Can I have a few moments alone with Brodie first?”
He nodded and pushed back, “Dinnae keep me waiting long. I may change my mind.”
“Aye.”
He marched from the room. When the door clicked closed, still holding his hand, she asked, “Is this what ye want Brodie?”
“Have ye gone daft, love? ’Tis the only thing I’ve ever wanted.” His free hand came up to caress her cheek.
“Even if it means ye will never have a bairn?”
“I told ye I would be happy just to have ye.”
“I am so sorry that I didnae come to ye. That we lost all these years.”
“Shh, love, ’tis done. What is in front of us is all that matters now. Will I be enough for ye?”
“Ye are the only thing that will ever be enough for me. I love ye.”
“I love ye, too.”