Chapter Six
“Holy shite,” came a man’s voice, making Mairi sit up amongst the bedclothes behind her velvet curtains. Daisy growled low, popping up and jumping from the suspended bed, her nails clicking on the floor. She barked between growls.
Mairi poked her head out of the curtains. The gray dawn light showed one of Alec’s men at the door. “Artemis?” he said. “What are ye doing down here?” He peered into the cell. “Living quite the comfy life, from the looks of it.”
“Daisy,” Mairi called, and the dog ran back, hopping on her back legs to be scooped into the bed. This might be the last time she would get to hug the pup. She looked into the dog’s brown eyes and kissed her snout, rubbing her ears.
Outside the curtains, Mairi heard the scrape of metal in the iron lock. He was opening her cell? Her heart thumped, and she jammed her hand under the pillow for the dagger Alec had given her on the first day.
Blade wrapped tightly in her fingers, Mairi climbed to her knees and looked out the curtains once more. The man had dark hair and wore a smile. “Hello,” he said and gave a little bow. She remembered him from the clearing outside Kilchoan. “I am Kenneth MacNeil, Alec’s cousin. His father was my mother’s brother.”
“What are ye here for?” she asked, only too aware that she was wearing a smock behind the curtains.
“Just to open the door. Chief’s orders.” His gaze moved about the cell, and he let loose a snorted chuckle. “No wonder,” he mumbled and rubbed his forehead.
“Did he give any other orders?” she asked.
“Nay. I figured ye two decided what ye’re to do last night. Would ye like my assistance?”
“Can ye sail me off this bloody rock?” she asked.
“Woe lass, Kisimul is much more than a rock.”
“Fine,” she said. “Can ye sail me off this beautiful island topped with a castle of bloody splendor?”
He laughed. “Nay. That was the only other order Alec gave. Ye’ll be staying on Kisimul. But ye might want to go see Weylyn and Cinnia. I’m guessing they had a hand in this.” He nodded to the furnishings. “And they’re pacing up in the hall as if they’re awaiting orders to the front line in a battle against the English.”
God’s teeth. Had Alec yelled at them? Certainly, he must have had words with them. “I will be right up as soon as I dress.”
He nodded, crossed his arms, and leaned back against the wall.
“Which I will do when ye go away.”
“Oh, aye. Certainly,” he said, jumping forward and turning to head back up the ramp.
Mairi hurried behind the screen where Daisy hopped playfully around her. “The day is full of surprises,” she said and washed her face and teeth, raking the comb through her hair. She threw over her head the simple blue gown Cinnia had brought. It cinched easily in the back. She shoved her toes into the slippers that matched and secured the knife in the pocket. The door barely squeaked as she pushed through it.
Plucking the key from a nail in the wall to tuck inside her pocket, she bent to pick up the cloth that Alec had dropped the night before and flipped it open. Tarts. He’d come down to bring her tarts? “Come along,” she said to Daisy, and they hurried up the stone ramp. It led to a door that opened easily, silently. No wonder Alec had been able to surprise her last night.
Daisy followed as Mairi continued along a passage toward a lit room. Sunlight. Her legs quickened. “Weylyn. Cinnia,” she called as she ran into the hall.
The children stood before a cold hearth, and Kenneth sat at a table situated down the center of the room. Cinnia ran to her, throwing herself into Mairi’s arms. “We had no idea what he was going to do to ye. He was frightfully angry.”
Weylyn halted his run to a more sedate trot, stopping behind Cinnia. “It doesn’t look like he beat ye,” he said, his smile teasing and genuine.
Mairi looked the lad up and down. “Ye neither.”
Cinnia huffed. “Da doesn’t beat anyone, unless ye face him in battle. Says it’s the responsibility of the mighty not to harm those weaker than they. But he could have frightened ye terribly.”
Mairi smiled. “Do I look easily frightened?”
Kenneth chuckled from his spot. “I’d say not.” He nodded to the children. “Ye have a job to do today. Make that dungeon look like a dungeon again.”
Mairi’s smile faded. “Am I to return to it tonight?”
Kenneth tilted his head, his smile wry. “I don’t think he’s decided yet.” With a quick bow, he headed out into the clear morning. Daisy followed him.
“I won’t let him,” Cinnia whispered, her sweet face pinched.
Weylyn crossed his arms. “He may put us down there with her.”
Cinnia tugged his arm. “We should get started.”
“I’ll be right along,” Mairi said. She poured herself some cool milk from a pitcher and tried one of the slightly smashed tarts she’d carried up. Cinnia had done a fine job. She chewed as she turned in a circle to survey the medium-sized great hall. It was not as big as Kilchoan or her home on the Isle of Mull. Sparsely furnished, with only one tapestry of a wolf and a coat of arms over the hearth. Without a fire and the sound of voices, it appeared abandoned.
“Perhaps it needs a woman’s touch,” came a voice from above.
Mairi twisted around to see Alec standing at the top of a set of stairs built into the wall. Arms crossed, he looked like a warrior king perusing his domain.
“It needs a broom for certain,” she said and hoped she hadn’t jumped when he’d spoken. He couldn’t see her frantically beating heart through her chest, and she was determined to keep her composure and her temper, if possible. “Do ye not employ any staff?”
He unfolded his arms and came down the steps. “I did, but they all fled when Joyce was murdered.” He walked to the table and picked up the other tart, his gaze remaining on her.
“But she wasn’t killed here,” Mairi said, remembering his explanation last night.
“Nay, but they think Kisimul is cursed.” He shrugged his powerful shoulders. “Whispers have abounded since I was a boy, before, actually. How the castle is a gateway to Hell through the well.” He pointed to a small room off the hall where a door stood half open. “The water is fresh and good. It comes from below the seawater, but they think it is unnatural.” He lowered into a backed chair at the head of the table, looking quite chief-like with his strong features and intelligent eyes.
“They blame the castle for your wife’s death?” Mairi asked. She took a seat several chairs down from Alec.
“They blame MacInnes for my wife’s death,” he countered. “The villagers blame the castle for allowing the evil to pervade Barra Isle, bringing the MacInnes here.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” she said.
“Superstition doesn’t stem from sense. It comes from fear.” He leaned forward. “My grandfather’s wife died on Kisimul, birthing my father. My father brought my mother here, and she miscarried every daughter growing within her, I think four in total.
“When I was born, my mother refused to try to have more bairns because of the evilness of this place. My father died shortly afterward in battle, and she had Kisimul blessed by a priest. She even had a chapel built here and dedicated it to St. Anne, the patron saint of women. ’Tis two doors down from this hall.” He pointed toward the door leading into a narrow bailey. “My mother remained on Kisimul only until I was sixteen when she left to take holy vows at Iona.”
“Ye lived here the entire time?” she asked, glancing about the tomb-like interior.
“Aye. ’Tis the place for The MacNeil. Therefore, it is my home. It wasn’t always this quiet. I wed Joyce Mackenzie when I was a score and two. She brought a cook, several maids, and her mare. But when she was killed, they returned to Clan Mackenzie. Without a woman on Kisimul to appease St. Anne, perhaps, evil is thought to run rampant in it.”
“They ignored your orders to stay?”
“I gave no orders. Kisimul is not a prison, despite your recent sojourn in my dungeon. This is a place of safety. No cannon nor arrow can penetrate to the innermost buildings. The access is only by water, which gives those of us defending it the highest point. Never in history has anyone been able to take her.”
“And yet no one wants to live here,” Mairi whispered. She rubbed her arms through the thin material of her gown. “It is lonely here. It’s only ye and the children?”
“My army resides in the village, easily called up. I visit and train with them daily. But it is only my cousin, Kenneth, whom ye met, and my most loyal friend, Ian MacLeod, who live here with my small family, and of course, ye now.”
Her gaze snapped to him. “I am still a prisoner?”
He pushed the chair back. “In a way, though ye are free to roam about, care for my wild and naughty children as ye suggested last night.”
She stood, too, crossing her arms. “Will ye keep me here forever, then?”
He came close, but Mairi refused to back up. He was at least as tall as her brother, Tor, the muscles of his arms apparent through his shirt. Power radiated from him with each step, his gray-blue eyes boring into her own. As if the tapestry behind him had come to life, Mairi felt stalked by the wolf.
Stopping before her, he slowly inhaled through his nose. “Roses.” She held her breath as he touched one of the curls framing her face. “Do ye always smell of them, lass?”
“I asked,” she said, keeping her teeth set, as if she could cage her temper by clenching her jaw. “Do ye intend to keep me prisoner here forever?”
He let the curl go. The slightest of grins touched his mouth. “Until ye wed me. Then ye will just be the lady of Kisimul.”
His simple words, spoken without a hint of tender emotion, was the spark flung into Mairi’s brittle temper. Fists clenching, she pressed her foot back and snapped it forward. “Pòg mo thòin,” she yelled as she kicked toward his shin.
Before she could make contact, Alec sidestepped, catching her foot. Damn skirts made her too slow. He raised one eyebrow. “I’m certain yer arse is lovely, but I will wait until after the ceremony to kiss it,” he said, referring to her favorite curse.
She tried to wrench her foot away, but he held tight for a second before dropping it. “Do ye always do whatever ye feel like doing?” he asked with a shake of his head. “Let everyone know exactly what ye’re thinking?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Do ye know what I’m thinking right now?”
“From the sharpness of your eyes and the way your fingers are clutched along your skirt, I’d say ye have my singh dubh hidden there.”
The blasted man hadn’t forgotten that he’d given it to her. Biting back the string of curses on her tongue, Mairi spun away and strode toward the dungeon where the children were. They were much less infuriating than their father, and they could take her on a tour of this water-surrounded, cursed gate to Hell.
…
Undisciplined and stubborn. Mairi MacInnes was not any closer to wedding him than she was a week ago. Joyce had been quiet, docile even, although those qualities bred secrets like sneaking away to the village by herself. If she’d asked him, he’d have said no since there were visitors on the island and the MacLeods of Lewis had been seen riding down through MacDonald territory just north of Barra. But she hadn’t asked him and had taken a boat across alone.
“Heel,” Alec said and tapped his leg as the two other dogs from the MacInnes ran up beside him. Once they fell in line, he clicked his tongue and fed them each a small piece of cooked venison. Artemis ran up, begging for hers.
“Your mistress has already ruined ye,” Alec said and pushed her arse to the grass. “Sit.” She bounced right back up. He did it again. “Sit.” Three more times, each one as patient as the last, he used the word and pushed her arse down. When she stayed for several seconds, he clicked his tongue and fed her a piece of venison.
“What kind of name is Daisy? There’s absolutely nothing noble about it.” He scratched the dog’s head and walked along the courtyard. The window to the dungeon sat near the rosebush at the far wall. He could hear the children chattering as they worked below. Occasionally Mairi’s voice chimed in, making him pause. When she wasn’t hissing with anger, her voice was rather beautiful. It matched her face and hair, and the rose smell she exuded. In the hall, he’d wanted to kiss her again, if only to stop her vicious tongue. What would it be like to release her passion, when it wasn’t tainted with anger?
He tapped his leg to get the other two dogs to fall in line. Dogs were much easier to deal with than women. Trainable, loyal, trustworthy. Though they certainly didn’t smell like roses.
“Alec,” Ian called as he walked through the lower kitchen into the courtyard. He didn’t speak until he stepped close, and he kept his voice low. “A ship is moored off the south side of Barra. I led a group of warriors to meet two men rowing to shore.”
“Who are they?” Alec asked, but as Ian’s eyes shifted to the dungeon window, he knew.
Ian met his gaze. “’Tis Tor Maclean and Cullen Duffie of Mull and Islay. They’ve come to find Mairi.”