Highland Persuasion (The MacLomain Series- Early Years) (31 page)

“Fine then!” she said and ran down the stairs after him. As she might have guessed he led her around to the backside of the castle then stopped, his feet at the shore of the loch.

 Iosbail was a very old wizard. She doubted he could show her anything new.

The tide was rolling in but the Sinclair didn’t seem much interested. He watched the water as though he felt it out. “Come,” he whispered and pulled her after him. “Do you see the school of fish?” Iosbail rolled her eyes. What cheap magic did he intend to use?

“Aye,” she said.

He squeezed her hand. “”And are you willing to get cold and wet?”

Iosbail couldn’t help but smile.
“Aye.”

“Strip down then.”

Iosbail didn’t hesitate but unclothed alongside Alexander. It was a heady rush seeing him nude by the loch with nature all around him. It seemed he felt the same as his eyes wandered over her.

He winked and took her hand. “Duck beneath the water and look up when I tell you to.”

They waded further out but stayed along the shore, Alexander’s eyes mischievous. She didn’t mind the cold water or the stone beneath her feet. Watching the Sinclair seemed much more interesting.

“Now!” he cried and fell back into the water and sunk beneath. Without hesitation, she did the same and opened her eyes.

Not to his magic but something far greater.

The school of fish flickered and dashed over a long rock ledge beneath the sea. When the fish whipped back the other way, the sun erupted. With only shy pinks and bashful reds, it somehow burst beneath the water creating a flurry of fiery color far and wide. Unfamiliar with the sight she started to flail but Alexander caught her hand and shook his head.

His touch calmed her enough to use her magic to stay under, no matter how cold. When comfortable enough to look away from him, Iosbail watched as the sunrise lit the loch beyond the MacLomain castle… from underwater.

Why had she never thought to do such a thing?

It mattered less and less as she watched the fiery colors of first light fade and flirt with brand new prisms. The salt water above became a slow, oily mix of confused colors before things began to even out. The water on top was blazing red. The water below was now a deep, brooding orange, much like a sunrise up top but far more vivid and enigmatic when seen beneath the water. The loch was fairly calm with the bad weather departed which made it easier to keep watching.

As if he understood her decision to stay under he wrapped his arm around her waist and pointed up. Alexander was correct. What she watched unfold would have never touched her ‘right mind,’ nor even her magical mind. As the sun hit halfway on the horizon everything exploded. So quickly and with so much beauty she laughed, her bubbles floating around them.

The floor of the loch turned red, the stones beneath so many colors, the top of the water blinding in its color and beauty. Iosbail looked around, amazed. How could she have lived so long and never witnessed such a sight.

Before she could think much more on it Alexander pulled her up. “I’d stay down there with you all day if I could but Shamus is here.”

Iosbail looked to the shore. Indeed, Shamus was striding their way with their clothes in hand, shaking his head.
“Fools, the lot of ye!”
The Irishman dropped the clothes and turned with his back to the loch so he couldn’t see them.
“’Tis a cold day, this one.”

“I have never felt warmer,” Alexander said smiling as he pulled her close. “I’ve my bonnie lass to keep me well.”

“Good morn to ye, laddie,” Iosbail said to Shamus, smiling.

“Bloody crazed ye are swimming at this hour,” Shamus replied even as he gave a nod of approval. “But I see yer swimming together so that says an awful lot.”

“’Tis nothing like a morning swim to wake one up,” Alexander said.

“I’m sure, me laird,” Shamus muttered.

Iosbail and Alexander laughed as they waded out of the water and crawled into their clothes.

Not once did they take their eyes off one another as they dressed. When at last Shamus turned, Iosbail was finger combing her long hair. Before she could flip her hair in the other direction the Irishman caught her up in a strong hug.

“Ye’ve no idea how happy I am ye and the Sinclair
are
together once and for all.”

She laughed. “And here I thought you wanted me all for yerself, laddie!”

Shamus pulled back and winked. “It would not have hurt any.”

They both smiled, content with the journey they’d undertaken before Shumus hugged Alexander as well, clapping the Scotsman on his back. “I worried there for a bit if ye’d figure it out.”

Alexander grinned. “Something tells me had I not; you would have made sure we did.”

Shamus shrugged, grinned and looked betwixt them. “Aye, would’ve had no choice!”

The Sinclair grinned but his expression soon grew serious. “Are the men gathered?”

The Irishman led them to a nearby rock and shook his head.
“Almost.”
He leaned over, grabbed some boots and tossed them Alexander’s way. Another set was handed to Iosbail.

There on the shores of the loch they received their full Highland regalia from an Irishman and good friend. By the time they were finished, the Sinclair looked as sharp as the night before, weapon intact. She however, had more of a land-loving look about her. Alexander ran his hands through her thick; half dried hair and arched a brow. “You’ve a wild, untamed look about you lass. One I think suits you verra well.”

“I’ve little choice,” she murmured when his lips met hers.

Shamus cleared his throat. “The sun might rise on ye both but so does it on the rest of us.”

Alexander smiled as he slowly pulled away, his eyes devouring her face.
“But not nearly as bright, my friend, that I can assure you.”

Iosbail made a point of making sure the Sinclair emblem was in place and that his plaid fell just so when she said, “He makes for a fine king, aye, Shamus?”

“Aye, lassie.
Indeed he does.”

Alexander gave a tight smile, turned and looked up at the MacLomain castle. Iosbail knew in that moment that things were about to change for them. Not in a terrible way but a new way.

“How many Sinclairs traveled with Edgar and chose not to fight alongside him?”

“Neigh on sixty, me Laird,” Shamus said.

“That few,” Alexander murmured.

“Nay, that
many
,” the Irishman said. “They’re new to you, interested in switching alliances and following you. And not one from your holding in the north joined the raid. They refused.” Shamus paused, a twinkle in his eyes. “And there are others.”

“Others?”
Alexander frowned.

“Aye,” Shamus said with a slow smile.
“Those directly from the clan in which you have blood ties, the
Donnchada,
your Da’s tribe.
They
be
true clansman of Malcolm III.”

The Sinclair’s proud face showed a hint of true emotion, one that vanished quickly before he said, “Let’s go welcome our clansmen then.”

“Aye,” Shamus said.

“Aye,” Iosbail said.

They let the king lead because Shamus and Iosbail knew he needed time alone to gather his thoughts. As the leader of a clan she understood how important it was to convince few to follow. It would be those who waited in the MacLomain hall today that would either make or break Alexander’s sovereignty. To be a chieftain was one thing, a king another.

And those first few moments were so crucial.

They weren’t surprised when Alexander chose to enter the great hall not through the main entrance as was proper but by the servant’s entrance. He stood in front of the men and looked over them all, his eyes intense, words impassioned when he said, “I was born a bastard and died a king. That is what I intend to say on my deathbed.”

Iosbail watched the men closely as Alexander continued his speech. One that was very good. Good enough that most nodded while he spoke but not great enough that all did. It was his actions that seemed to have the most impact. When the last word left his lips, Alexander kneeled then laid his sword on the floor.

What was he doing?

But she knew. He was offering the men what he thought they deserved.
An equal.

Alexander would be a humble but strong king.

One who put all before himself.

Now it was up to his men whether they accepted.

Either they would see it as the sign of a king who easily admitted defeat or one who understood his people were as strong as he and he’d not be such without them.

A new fire roared on the great hearth and sun streamed in a single line from overhead through the smoke hole. Iosbail would always think it a mighty favorable thing that the sun crested in such a way that it reflected down on Alexander.  

Iosbail watched the Sinclair kneel to his new warriors, head bowed.

He did not move a muscle but kept his hand on the handle of his blade.

Long moments passed as the men came closer, warriors all, blades in hand, looking down on he who would be their king.

“Like taking the arrow at the beginning,” Shamus muttered, clearly on edge.

“What?” she whispered.

“A happy following is a true following,” the Irishman whispered. “He puts his people before himself. ‘Tis not a power play here. He but banks on others happiness being equal to his. He’d not rule a people otherwise. If they’re happy enough to follow him, he’s happy enough to rule them.”

“Seems all rather… happy,” she ground out.

“Equality,” Shamus murmured.
“Big thing with me laird.”

So she’d surmised. Iosbail did her best to keep her chin raised and expression blank as far too many came up on Alexander with blade in hand. Too many muscled warriors looked down on her man with inexplicable expressions on their faces. It was at the very least disquieting.

Silence grew.

Her tension rose.

What were they waiting for?

This couldn’t be good.

Chapter Fifteen

Would they deny him?

Suddenly one warrior lay his blade down on the floor with the tip touching Alexander’s, went to his knees and bowed his head.

Iosbail released a slow breath and watched the others closely.

One by one they began to come forward and laid down their blade, then knelt. The more that came forward, the larger the good omen war asterix grew. This was a symbol typically created by Scottish clansmen before they went to war, only ever with daggers, never with swords.

Iosbail felt a new pride grow within her.

While the Sinclair had kneeled and bowed to prove his equality to his men he’d also asked for a warrior’s fealty to a degree that couldn’t be misinterpreted.

Only when the very last warrior had laid down his blade and bowed did Alexander stand and say, “We are now brothers and true kin. Honor me and I will honor you. Honor me and you honor Scotland.” He leaned down slowly and grabbed his sword. Several long seconds passed before he raised his sword and said the Sinclair’s cry, “Commit thy work to God!”