Chapter Seven
“Can ye give me a tour of the castle?” Mairi asked as she helped Cinnia and Weylyn carry the rug they’d rolled up from the dungeon floor.
They’d left the suspended bed with the old mattress and the privacy screen and table that Mairi had built. The basics of civility. If Alec needed to lock up horrible monsters, then he could remove the rest himself.
“Certainly,” Cinnia said and led the way down the corridor above the great hall, where two doors stood open, showing dusty bedrooms. They placed the rug in a midsized room with a tiled hearth at one end and a bed against the wall where they’d rehung the drapes.
“This shall probably be your room,” Weylyn said. “It was our mother’s.”
So, Alec hadn’t shared a room with his former wife. Interesting.
Mairi studied the children. “Ye must miss her terribly.”
Cinnia nodded while Weylyn crossed his arms, looking down at his boots. “She didn’t spend a lot of time with us, but we know she loved us,” Cinnia said. “She was sad a lot of the time.”
“When ye aren’t frowning over Da, ye’re much happier than she was,” Weylyn said.
Mairi studied them. “I am not here to take her place, ye know.”
“Da said ye were,” Cinnia said, her voice stiff. “It’s been almost a year since she died. It’s taken Da that much time to figure out his revenge.”
Mairi sat on the edge of the freshly made bed. “Ye know who I was married to before.”
“Aye,” Weylyn said. “The bloody bastard, Fergus MacInnes, of Kilchoan.”
Mairi watched Cinnia’s face pinch. “Our seanmhair said ye had nothing to do with the MacInnes’s sins. That ye could never have chosen to wed someone so old and foul.”
“Your grandmother is here?” she asked. “I thought she was a nun on Iona.”
“Not our real seanmhair,” Weylyn said, his brows scrunched low. “Millie. She came to help Da when his mother left him alone here. She lives outside the village on Barra now.” He sniffed. “She heard Da’s plan to take ye, retribution for the mother we lost.” He looked down at his feet, his shoulders rounded in a child’s attempt to keep raw emotions inside. He shrugged. “She said we should not hate ye, even though I still thought we should, ye being a MacInnes and all.”
“Millie didn’t hear or say anything,” Cinnia said and looked at Mairi. “She can’t hear, so she reads the way a person’s lips move. And she chooses not to speak, using her fingers and hands to tell us things.”
“Like the signals Da uses with the dogs,” Weylyn added.
“Don’t let Millie see ye say that,” Cinnia said. “She’ll ignore ye for a year, and we won’t get her soft bread.” Cinnia turned back to Mairi. “And secondly, I certainly don’t hate ye.” Her eyes welled up. “Ye didn’t kill our mother.”
Mairi felt tears press behind her own eyes and inhaled to keep them in place. She looked between the children, Weylyn with his fleeting eyes and frown and Cinnia barely holding onto her sorrow. “First,” Mairi said, sitting straighter on the bed, “I would love to meet your seanmhair, Millie. She sounds quite clever, because she is right. I did not choose to wed Fergus MacInnes. And I did not know anything about his plans, foul or otherwise.” She paused. “I suppose that was second.”
She shook her head and looked to Weylyn. “Thirdly, I do not consider myself a MacInnes but a Maclean.”
He nodded and filled his chest with air. “I’m glad Millie was right.”
“About me not supporting Fergus MacInnes?”
“Nay. About ye being someone to break the curse,” he answered.
“The curse of Kisimul?” she asked.
“Aye, the one that makes no one want to live on Kisimul with us,” Cinnia said.
A movement by the door caught Cinnia’s gaze, and her eyes opened wide. Alec MacNeil stood there, hands braced on either side of the doorframe. His brows were lowered, giving him a menacing look. Like a mother bear, Mairi stepped closer to Cinnia.
“I think that’s enough talk of superstitious foolishness,” he said, his gaze falling on her. Was he speaking to her? He didn’t know her at all if he thought she wasn’t going to ask questions.
“Aye, Da,” Cinnia said. “We’re done moving things up. Can this be Mairi’s room?”
What an outlandish situation. Mairi opened her lips and closed them again, completely lost on what to say next. Would he say it was her choice if she preferred the dungeon as an unwed woman or this room wed to him? Did he think the presence of his children would stop her from throwing the water pitcher at his head? She waited.
“If she wishes,” he said, eyes steady and his grip relaxing. He lowered his arms. “Ian, Kenneth, and I are headed to the village. I think the weather is turning, thus, ye need to stay indoors. I don’t want waves to wash ye into the sea.” He pinned them with a fierce gaze. “Follow my orders this time.”
“Aye, Da,” they both said, glancing downward. Guilt sat heavy in the bend of their shoulders.
He tipped his head to Mairi, turned on his heel, and strode away, his tread soundless.
“Does he always sneak around here?” Mairi asked.
Weylyn’s stern frown turned into a grin. “He moves silently because he’s a wolf. He’s loud only when he’s ripping out the throat of his enemies.” He clenched his hand, so his fingers looked like teeth biting into someone.
“Weylyn,” Cinnia said in a huff. “Don’t make up vicious tales.”
His eyes opened wide in innocence. “’Tis true. I heard Ian talking about it. Scares the shite right out of the English or the MacLeods of Uist when they raid.”
Mairi planted her feet on the floor and stood. “Perhaps it is time for my tour. I’ve sat in small rooms far too long.”
…
Alec could see Mairi’s features in her brother as he approached alongside his friend. Tor Maclean wore his sword and frown as if walking into battle.
“MacNeil,” he said. “I am Tor Maclean, the chief of the Macleans of Mull, and this is Cullen Duffie, chief of the MacDonalds of Islay. We are searching for my sister, Mairi Maclean. She was stolen.”
“Not Mairi MacInnes? Wife to the bastard who raided our island, killing unprovoked?” Alec said, his voice low. If the two drew swords, they’d be completely outnumbered. Ian and Kenneth flanked Alec with his two wolfhounds, and his men walked quietly behind the two, forming a semicircle.
“Fergus MacInnes is dead,” Maclean said. “And my sister had nothing to do with his atrocities.” He exhaled. “I am sorry to hear about your wife.”
Alec stared into Maclean’s eyes. He was called the Beast of Aros, and something about the intensity in his gaze made Alec think that, under different circumstances, he would like Tor Maclean. “I am sorry to hear that your sister is missing.”
“She’s not been seen on Barra Isle?” Cullen Duffie asked. He narrowed his eyes as if searching Alec, but if he thought to read anything into Alec’s stance or movements, he’d find nothing. Alec had spent a lifetime hiding his actual emotions and thoughts, first from a disapproving mother, then from a ridiculously superstitious clan, and finally from a wife who believed in curses enough to abandon her own children to sneak off Kisimul alone.
Alec met Duffie’s hard gaze without a single blink. “Nay. Ask my men or any of the villagers. Your missing lady has not set foot on Barra.” Alec knew the two who had rowed Mairi across from Kilchoan and the four others who had manned the ship to sail them home would never tell a soul what they’d seen, not even their own families. They were loyal MacNeils, each one of them. Even though he’d slept on Kisimul, he’d come ashore most days of his life, training and growing up with them.
“We will do that,” Duffie said and finally looked away, his gaze perusing the village square. “We will stay the night and move up your coast to Eriskay and South Uist tomorrow.”
“Ruth MacNeil, the baker’s wife, lets a room above her shop,” Kenneth said and pointed behind the two.
“How about Kisimul?” Maclean asked, looking out over the water. “We would visit it before we journey on.”
Alec crossed his arms. “No one goes to Kisimul.”
“Ye do,” Maclean said.
“It is the seat for clan MacNeil. Only my children and I reside there.”
“And his second in command and cousin,” Kenneth added, pointing to himself and Ian. “’Tis a cursed isle in the bay.”
“Yet ye leave your children there alone?” Duffie asked, also turning his eyes toward the water.
“I don’t believe in curses,” Alec said. “But I also know how to keep my family safe. Kisimul is impenetrable. I’ve already lost their mother. I will not lose them. No one goes there.”
“There is someone on top of your wall,” Maclean said, taking long steps toward the docks for a better look.
Alec’s stomach tightened as his hand grasped the hilt of his sword. “Stay indoors” had apparently not been specific enough. With a nod to his men, they followed Maclean and Duffie toward the water line. He looked up to Kisimul’s wall walk and saw golden hair caught by the wind. But the castle was far away, and no features were detectable on the woman standing there; her head was the only part visible. Alec let Maclean and Duffie study the figure at length. When Alec reached them, he stopped.
“My daughter, Cinnia,” he said.
“Or the ghost of Kisimul,” Kenneth said next to him.
Alec scoffed. “I will tell Cinnia tonight that ye thought she was a spirit.” Alec knew that Maclean stared at his sister and not Cinnia, for her hair was too golden in the muted sun to be his daughter’s. Alec uncrossed his arms and let them fall to his sides, a signal to others that he was not in the leastways anxious or hiding something. It worked with stray canines. Would it work with two suspicious Highlanders?
“Ye have a son also,” Maclean said, his eyes watching until Mairi moved around the corner to step inside a tower.
“Aye. He’s only seven summers, and not yet hit his growing years, so ’tis hard to see him above the wall. No doubt he’s following behind his sister.”
Cullen Duffie looked between Alec and the now vacant Kisimul walk that ran the wall. His face grim, he turned to Tor Maclean. “Let us find a room. We can continue north.”
“Do ye have reason to think someone took your sister up here to the Western Isles?” Alec asked. They’d been quite careful about leaving no indications of who they were.
Tor Maclean gazed directly back at Alec while Duffie’s gaze followed a small herd of village dogs, chased by two laughing MacNeil lads. “Three of Geoff MacInnes’s hounds were cut from their tethers when Mairi was taken. We found their paw prints along the northwest shoreline, along with horse prints. Anyone able to bring horses by boat would have a ship able to handle the crossing to these isles.”
“Interesting,” Alec said. “Bandits wouldn’t take the time to steal dogs. And faithful canines won’t just follow someone away from their home unless they were mistreated there. Perhaps your sister decided she was safer to leave.”
“It was Mairi’s wedding day,” Duffie said. “She wouldn’t have left, and she wasn’t mistreated. ’Twas her choice to marry. And who would snatch away a lass on her wedding day but someone who was at war with the MacInnes?”
“Aye,” Alec said. “I and the MacNeil clan of Barra are at war with the family of Fergus MacInnes, but it will extend to the rest of the clan if I discover others were involved in my wife’s murder.” He glanced at the midsized ship in the harbor. Had anyone on the ship seen Mairi walking the roofline? “If MacInnes hides upon your ship, tell him that none of his clan is welcome here.”
Alec strode away, with Ian and Kenneth flanking him, his wolfhounds jogging behind. Gravel crunched under their boots as they headed toward the church. “Watch them,” Alec said. “If they try to signal or return to their ship, get me. We’ll return to Kisimul before them.”
“Ye best marry her soon, before her kin figures out she’s here,” Ian said.
Kenneth dropped the weight of his hand on Alec’s shoulder. “Kiss her again, man. She’s certainly kissable looking.” He grinned, his brows raised, and veered off the path with Ian.
Alec narrowed a glare at Kenneth’s back and continued toward Father Lassiter, where he swept the front steps to the small church. “Any news or needs for intercession, Father?” Alec asked the wiry man.
He cocked his head toward Maclean and Duffie, who spoke with Ruth at the bakery before she ushered them inside. “Just those two looking around like we’re as guilty as the devil.”
Alec crossed his arms and watched the two Highlanders. “There’s a bit of the devil in all of us, Father. That’s why we need ye here.”
The only reason those two were staying on Barra Isle was to ask the villagers if they’d seen Mairi. Luckily, Alec hadn’t brought the new dogs over yet, in case they had a description. What would that be? Did Geoff tell them to look for canines with their ribs showing through their skin and welts on the young bitch’s back?
A man who treated his dogs that way would likely treat his wife the same. Mairi should thank him for stealing her away. Could another kiss convince her of that? He snorted. Doubtful.
…
Mairi sat in the narrow rocking chair before the fire she’d built in the stone hearth. Daisy lay at her feet, both having feasted on freshly caught haddock, which Mairi had taught Cinnia and Weylyn how to clean, season, and fry. They’d also learned to bake fresh bread without burning it. ’Twas a good day for the children and the small pack of dogs that followed them around. Despite the lack of people on Kisimul, the dogs certainly made the place less lonely.
A knock at the door halted Mairi’s rocking as her heart sped up. She’d been eating below when the dogs alerted them to Alec’s homecoming. Bidding the children good night, she’d retired before he came inside.
“Aye,” she said, rocking once more. The door was barred from the inside, so there was no worry of someone barging in. Daisy sniffed at the crack under it, tail wagging.
“I would speak with ye,” Alec’s deep voice came through the wood.
“Go ahead!”
“Not through a door.”
Mairi huffed and stood, walking over. She placed her hand there and breathed deeply. Alec wasn’t her dead husband’s abusive son, yet the feel of the heavy wood beneath her hand reminded her of another time when she was imprisoned, hiding behind a wooden bar over a door. Subduing a tinge of panic, she lifted and let the bar fall. When Alec didn’t push into the room, she pulled it open. Daisy rushed past his legs and down the stairs after the voices below.
Alec stood with his legs braced apart, one hand on the doorframe, his stare studying her face. “May I enter?”
She swept her arm aside. “’Tis your bloody castle, and I am but a lowly prisoner.”
He walked in, shutting the door behind him. “I do not enter where I’m not wanted.”
“Ye entered my room at Kilchoan,” she said.
“I believe ye beckoned me in.”
She blew air from her cheeks. “I didn’t know who ye were. Had I known, I wouldn’t be a prisoner here.”
“Think ye could have stopped me from taking ye to Kisimul?” he asked, crossing to the fire. He squatted low to poke it with the iron stick.
“Certainly.”
He looked over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised.
“Or I at least would have screamed loud enough to make your ears bleed. And ye’d surely have suffered bruises.”
He stood and leaned back against the wall, resting his arm on the shallow mantel. Good Lord, he looked rugged and fine relaxing there, a grin turning up his mouth. “Ye’re a right bloodthirsty bride.”
He may be the handsomest man she’d ever seen, but he was still a scoundrel for stealing her. She huffed. “Bride? Ha! Prisoner.”
“Ye’ve been treated very well for a prisoner. Perhaps I should rectify that.”
She took a step back. “If ye try to lock me in that cell again, ye’ll feel my blade, MacNeil.”
“No need for cells or blades if ye wed me,” he answered, meeting her step with one of his own.
“And then what? I marry ye, and ye let me leave? Go back to my home on Aros?”
He paused his advance, studying her. “Ye would like to return to Aros on the Isle of Mull? Not Kilchoan?”
“I’ve told ye, I do not consider myself a MacInnes.”
“But ye were about to wed a second one.”
She opened her mouth and closed it twice before talking. “My duty…” She cleared her throat and tipped her chin higher. “As daughter and then sister to the Maclean of Aros, was to form alliances with our neighbors by wedding into another clan’s family.”
He frowned. “Your brother, Tor Maclean, made ye wed into the MacInnes clan.”
“Nay. My father did. Well, he asked me to. I could have refused, but then I would be a burden to my family, not an asset. When Geoff MacInnes asked me again to wed within their clan, Tor said I did not have to. But I would be an asset, not a burden.”
“Ye could be an asset to the Macleans by wedding The MacNeil of Barra,” he said, watching her closely.
She stepped up to him, her eyes narrowed. “If ye hadn’t noticed, MacNeil, I do not like being forced to comply. A woman wants to have a choice in the matter.”
“Will ye wed with me?” he asked, not breaking the bond of their stubborn gazes.
She concentrated on not blinking. “Asking me while I’m trapped in your bloody castle isn’t asking me.” She could just make out a long white scar running under his close-cropped beard. It ran the length of his jaw. His face was angular and beautiful in its intensity. His piercing eyes made her heart hammer too quickly. Did he ever smile with joy or did his lips only slant with a sardonic grin?
“I am patient,” he said.
She scoffed. “Ye’re also brittle, stubborn, and if ye blow that damn whistle for me to come, I’ll shove it down your throat.”
The edges of his mouth turned upward. “Noted. Now it’s my turn.”
“Your turn?”
“Aye. Mairi Maclean. Ye are undisciplined, stubborn, and rash.”
“Rash? Undisciplined? How would ye even know any of that? Ye’ve been away from me most of the last week.” Of course, he was right. Her mother and brother had both called her rash and undisciplined, but the blasted devil had no right to call her such without knowing who she was.
“Ye kissed me when ye were about to wed another,” he answered. “That is rash and undisciplined.”
Mairi clamped her teeth and sucked air in through her nose. “I was told that a man was coming to tempt me, by my betrothed, to see if after I kissed him I would still want to marry Geoff.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Quite risky of him. Did the kiss work?”
“What? Nay,” she yelled but felt her face heat. The man couldn’t possibly know that she’d considered calling off the wedding when he released her from that kiss.
“So, if I was to…kiss ye again, that wouldn’t change your mind about wedding me?”
“Absolutely not,” she said, crossing her arms. It took strength of will not to let her gaze drop to his sensual mouth. Like a starving dog with a meaty bone waving in front of her, she felt the pull. Was she so lonely that she would throw herself into the arms of her enemy? Even if those arms were warm and gentle, wrought of power and stone-hardened muscle?
He stepped forward. “Are ye certain?”
“Aye.” She opened her eyes wide, her heart thumping behind her breast. “Ye don’t frighten me with threats of persuading kisses, MacNeil.”
He touched a curl along her cheek, his hand brushing her face. Mairi stood as still as a marble statue, mutiny on her lips, despite the itch of her fingers to touch him. Aye, it was loneliness that weakened her resolve.
“I don’t suppose ye ever get frightened, Mairi Maclean.” His words were low, rough, like the prickle of his cropped beard must feel sliding along her skin.
Mairi remained rooted to the floor. If she backed away, Alec would take it as some sort of victory.
He brought his hand downward, touching her bottom lip with his thumb, and her breath caught. “Ye are brave and disordered,” he said. “But the softest, most beautiful creature I’ve ever met.”
His words wrapped around her more firmly than chains. Beautiful? She’d never been called beautiful by a man.
He leaned in, eyes on her as if waiting to see if she would turn away. But she didn’t, wouldn’t. If he wished to see if he could affect her with a kiss, then dammit, she would meet his challenge with one of her own.