Chapter Eight
“Be careful not to trample the faery flowers emerging forth from the snow.”
As Desmond descended the stairs, Muir stood leaning against the entrance to the Great Hall. The man eyed him steadily as he approached. Pushing away from the wall, Muir blocked his path.
Desmond regarded the man in a calm manner, though in truth, he wanted to shove him aside. “Did ye wish to speak to me?”
“I am grateful for your aid, but since we have sought shelter at Urquhart Castle, ye can leave off seeing to Lady Ailsa.”
Weary from the journey, Desmond found he had no words for a retort. However, frustration seethed inside him. “Anything else?”
“Only that ye heed my words.”
Curious, he asked, “Why? I have done naught to your lady. Merely protected and seen her safely to Urquhart.”
Muir stepped closer. “Remember my words, O’Quinlan.”
Desmond surveyed him coldly. “Why do I sense a threat?”
Stephen appeared by his side. “Have ye eaten, Desmond?”
Keeping his gazed fixed on Muir, he replied, “Nae. I was on my way into the hall.”
“Do come inside. ’Tis cold out in the corridor.”
Desmond nodded and stepped around the annoying man.
Entering the hall, Stephen clamped a hand on his shoulder. “We must teach ye some manners, O’Quinlan.”
Desmond halted and looked at him. “Have I done something wrong?”
“I am simply jesting with ye,” chided Stephen and released his hold. “Did ye ken Muir is kin to clan Donald, though he is a Cameron? Bran mentioned it to Angus.”
“Nae. Is he from the Isle of Islay?”
Stephen kept his voice low. “Did not say. Claimed he is a guard for the MacDuff. Furthermore, the man seems to have a thorn up his ass. He offered no words of thanks for food or drink. Although, the MacDuff has been gracious and forthcoming with why he is here in the glen.”
“Which is?”
“To scatter his wife’s ashes in the loch. Moreover, he is barely a distant relation to the Earls of Fife. He did share this when Alastair questioned him.”
Desmond eyed the MacDuff with curiosity. “Why would he dare to journey during this time of year? He would have fared better during late spring or early summer.”
Stephen leaned near him. “A vow the woman requested on her deathbed to bring her here immediately after her death.”
“Strange request to give to her kin,” muttered Desmond.
“Agreed. Yet, I believe the man is sincere.”
Stephen took a seat and gestured for Desmond to sit near him.
Sitting down across from Alastair and Duncan, he reached for a jug of wine. Filling his cup, Desmond listened to the talk between Angus and the MacDuff. When the mention of King John’s name entered the conversation, Angus’ eyes blazed with fury, and he fisted his hands upon the table.
“When the weather lessens, I shall send a messenger to King William. Again, King John tries our king’s patience with these skirmishes. It angers the people, especially learning his men have moved deeper into the glen,” stated Angus.
“Is King William nearby?” asked Muir as he took a seat next to the MacDuff.
“Aye,” responded Angus. “He makes his way here to celebrate the Midwinter feast with us.”
Bran leaned forward. “Truly?”
Angus nodded slowly and reached for the jug. Refilling the MacDuff’s cup, he added, “We would be honored if ye remain here at Urquhart to join us in the festivities.”
The MacDuff straightened and took his cup. “Ye honor us by your invitation. In truth, we had told our people we would not be returning until after Midwinter. They understood the journey we faced.”
Alastair pushed a trencher of food toward Desmond. Filling a bread bowl with the warm venison stew, he paused. “I am sorry to hear the news of your wife’s death.”
Bran MacDuff gave him a curt nod, but showed no sign of emotion. “She was a great woman. All suffered from her passing.”
Desmond dunked his bread into the stew and took a bite. “As I am sure your daughter, Ailsa, felt keenly her loss, as well.”
Muir gave him a scathing look, but Desmond ignored the man and turned his attention back toward the MacDuff. “My sister and I suffered cruelly at the loss of our parents.”
“As we all have here,” commented Alastair.
“Where do ye hail from?” inquired Desmond. Reaching for his cup, he drank deeply.
Folding his arms over his chest, Bran eyed him curiously. “As ye were not present when I told the MacKay, we come from the Isle of Ailsa Creag.”
Desmond’s hand stilled. Now he knew why the lass’ name had bothered him. He remembered his mother speaking of the place. Mystical and ancient, the place was shrouded by the mists of the ocean and land. “I recall the stories from my mother of your home.”
The MacDuff arched a brow. “Bards weave many a tale throughout the land.”
“Even as far away as Eire,” added Desmond, refilling his cup.
“Then she was of the old beliefs?” asked Bran.
“Aye,” he replied softly.
“As was my wife. Her people came from Eire, as well.”
Fiona entered the hall with Merlin, Alastair’s wolfhound, trailing behind her. She gave her husband a smile and walked over to Bran. “Your daughter is resting. Our healer, Aileen, has revealed she has not broken any ribs. However, she has suffered heavy bruising, and has a small fever. With rest, she will recover swiftly. Tam is also with her. She has requested to see you.”
Bran’s mouth twitched in humor at Fiona. “I can assure ye it will be difficult for the lass to remain in bed for verra long. Her stubbornness is a trait among the MacDuffs.”
Fiona gave a sidelong glance to Desmond. “Stubbornness can be a strength and hindrance.”
Desmond glared at his sister. Though, relief had coursed through him the moment he heard his sister proclaim the news about Ailsa.
“I shall go speak with the lady,” announced Muir, rising from his seat.
The MacDuff held up his hand. “Nae. She wishes to see her father.”
For a moment, Desmond feared the man would argue with his chieftain. Nevertheless, he nodded and took his seat.
Bran rose from his chair. “Lead the way, Lady Fiona.”
“When ye are finished, permit me to share a cup of uisge beatha before ye retire to your chambers,” stated Angus.
“Thank ye,” replied the MacDuff.
“I believe I shall take my leave,” commented Muir. Rising from his seat, he gave a curt nod to Angus and strode out of the hall.
As soon as the doors closed, Duncan folded his arms over his chest. “Why do I sense unease with Muir?”
Desmond snorted and continued to eat his meal.
“Ask O’Quinlan,” suggested Alastair, chuckling softly.
As Desmond lifted his head, all the eyes of the MacKays were on him. Letting out a curse, he replied, “I carried his woman on my horse, and he took offense.”
Stephen coughed loudly into his fist. “I see a fight coming in the lists.”
“Are ye sure she is to marry this man?” asked Duncan.
Shrugging, Desmond reached for the jug of wine. “He behaves like a man who has claimed the woman. I did what I thought right at the time. Her father had a broken arm and head wound. Muir also suffered from a blow to the head. It left only me to tend to the lass.”
Duncan narrowed his eyes. “And yet, ye did not think to have Alastair carry the lass on his horse?”
“O’Quinlan took immediate charge of the woman,” interjected Alastair.
Desmond growled and drained his cup. The wine left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Enough,” demanded Angus. “They are now our guests and ones who have suffered with the loss of family and men.” Turning toward Desmond, he arched a brow. “Will there be a problem with ye and this man?”
Offended by the MacKay’s question, Desmond stood. “There will be nae problem. I shall stay away from your guests.”
“O’Quinlan,” warned Angus. “Ye take offense at my meaning, where there is none.”
Tired and weary, Desmond let out a frustrated sigh. “Forgive me. I shall see ye all in the morn.”
Uncertainty filled him as he left the hall. For the remainder of November until after Midwinter, he had to remain with people who left him frustrated and confused. Frustration with the Dragon Knights and confusion over a certain blue-eyed lass.
Striding out of the castle, the blast of icy air slapped his face, and he welcomed its sting.
****
“No more,” Ailsa protested, shoving the spoon away. “I can tend to myself.”
“Like you did last evening? Wincing from the pain, you spilled the contents in annoyance. And Fiona, who is with child, cleaned up your mess,” responded Brigid, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Must we once again remind you that you have suffered bruised ribs? You’re fortunate they did not break and puncture a lung.”
Ailsa grimaced and met the hard stare of the woman. Her eyes reminded her of another. They mirrored the same color and arch of brow. However, this was not her beloved mother. She considered three days in bed was enough, though the pain continued to weaken her. Relaxing her shoulders, she lifted her head. “I will accept your help for one more day.”
Brigid smiled. “Agreed. And in the morning, you can sit at the table by the window.” She dipped the spoon into the broth and held it before Ailsa’s mouth.
Ailsa allowed Brigid to feed her, though her insides screamed to do it herself. “I did not ken Fiona is with child.”
Waving the spoon in the air, Brigid replied, “Yes, and Aileen, too.”
Taking another bite, Ailsa’s eyes went round. “’Tis good to hear new life abounds here for the Dragon Knights.”
Smiling, Brigid added, “Yes, indeed.”
Frowning, Ailsa shifted slightly. “If I may ask, ye and the other women speak in a strange language. ’Tis the words of the English, but not the tone. Furthermore, ye use words I cannae fathom. Ye are not of this place.”
The woman’s hand stilled over the bowl. “You perceive much, Ailsa. How much do you know about the MacKay Dragon Knights—their history?”
Ailsa sighed and closed her eyes. “My mother has shared the stories since the verra beginning of the Order.” Opening her eyes, she continued, “They were descended from the Fae and bestowed powers from the elements. We ken about their magic, since our isle is a haven as well. We had heard of their downfall and then rise once again to take their place as leaders. Our druids spoke of the curse. They also mentioned of the women who traveled the stars to save their souls. Are ye from those stars?”
Brigid put the bowl on the table. “They were not cursed. It was a prophecy for them. A quest for each of the brothers. On each of their journeys, a woman was sent through the Veil of Ages, sometimes guided by a Fae warrior.”
Reaching out, she grasped Brigid’s hand. “Ye…” She swallowed. “Ye have traveled from another time?”
Nodding slowly, Brigid squeezed her hand. “I’m sharing this knowledge, since I have a feeling you will understand.”
Ailsa released her hand and leaned back. “’Tis incredible. My home is on an island on the southwest of Scotland. Generations have taken refuge within our rocky isle. Most of the time, the mists encircle the land, protecting us from invaders. We have no wish to venture off the island. ’Tis a place where we also train warriors in the old ways. We have sent two men to be with the Fianna.”
Brigid’s eyes went wide. “You should speak with Deirdre and Angus. They traveled with the Fianna, before coming home to Urquhart.”
“Truly?”
“Yes. Your father mentioned you were traveling to the loch to scatter your mother’s ashes. I am sorry to hear of her passing. I lost my parents when I was young, so I do understand about loss.”
Ailsa felt comforted by the woman’s words. “Her last request was to be with the Great Dragon.”
Beaming, Brigid stood. “She is a marvel to behold.”
“Do ye think she will be present when the time comes?”
Brigid touched her cheek. “I will ask her.”
Ailsa gasped and reached for the woman’s hand. “Ye can do so?”
“All the wives of the Dragon Knights speak with her. She holds great wisdom and is a good listener. If not for her sage advice, I fear I might have traveled another path.” Brigid squeezed her hand and then released it.
Sighing, Ailsa leaned back against the pillows. Her mother had spoken about the wonder of the last dragon, but she never fathomed she would witness the beautiful being. “Thank ye, Lady Brigid.”
“Please call me Brigid.”
Smiling, she replied, “Only if ye call me Ailsa.”
“Deal.”
Ailsa laughed, but immediately regretted the action. Wincing from the pain, she placed a hand on her side. “Do ye think I can sit on the chair by the hearth?” She gave the woman a pleading look.
Chuckling, Brigid placed the bowl onto a nearby table. “All right. But let me grab Deirdre or Aileen to help, too.”
“I can assure ye—”
“Yes,” interrupted Brigid. “I know you’re a strong warrior woman, but you’re shaky when you attempt to stand. I don’t think your father will be pleased if I tell him you fell and broke a bone. Or my husband, if you fell on me.”
Both women turned at the soft tapping on the door.
Brigid went and opened the door. “Good morning, Desmond.”
A thrill of excitement shot through Ailsa. She had been told the man had asked morn, noon, and eve about her over the past several days. Though he never entered her chamber, she recalled hearing his deep voice last evening.
“Perfect timing, Desmond. I was on my way to have one of the other women help move Ailsa to a chair by the hearth.”
“No need to bother them. I can assist the lady.”
Brigid glanced over her shoulder at her. “Will that be agreeable to you?”
Ailsa held up a hand. She hastily tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and folded her hands in her lap. Giving the woman a nod, she waited.
Opening the door wide, Desmond stepped inside and walked toward her. He gave her a slight bow. “Good morn, Lady Ailsa.”
Her mouth became dry, and Ailsa found it difficult to form any words. It was as if she were seeing the man for the first time. Gone was the heavy beard, though the shadow of one remained. He wore a fresh tunic and trews that hugged muscular legs. Her face heated, and she quickly looked away from those glittering green eyes.
He stepped closer. “Are ye still with fever?”
“Nae,” she blurted out and lifted her head.
She thought his smile could disarm a wild boar, and Ailsa melted right there on the bed. He leaned forward and lowered his voice, “’Tis good to hear. Take hold of my left arm, since your injuries are on the other side. Ye can lean on me.”
Ailsa nodded, his breath warm against her face. A mix of honeyed bread and ale.
Placing her hand on his strong arm, he helped to lift her with the other one. Standing on shaky limbs, she waited. “Can we move, please?”
His eyes held mirth when he replied, “When ye stop shaking, I will help ye move forward.”
“Afraid I’ll collapse into your arms?”
“I would welcome the fall,” he uttered softly.
By the hounds! Were his words a challenge? Her face heated even more, but strength seeped into her bones.
Taking a step forward, Desmond helped her across the chamber to the chair. She sank into the deeply cushioned seat. “Blissful.”
Surprising her, Desmond reached for her hand and placed a kiss along the knuckles. “My pleasure, Lady Ailsa.”
Brigid approached, tucking a fur covering over her lap and under her feet. “There. I’m sure you’ll enjoy some time away from your bed, sitting by the hearth.”
As Desmond turned to leave, Ailsa called out, “Thank ye, Desmond, and please call me Ailsa.”
When he glanced back over his shoulder, he gave her a smile that sent her heart racing. Ailsa feared she was coming down with a fever once again.