Highland Sons: The Mackay Saga (4 page)

A shriek cut through the noise in the hall. Everyone turned to see a large, tan-colored hound enter. The animal lifted its huge head and sniffed the air, as if scenting the meat on the tables.

Maggie’s already pale complexion went white. “Dear Lord, ‘Tis one of the hermit’s beasts. How did it escape its master?”

One of the men closest to the animal drew his sword and tried to get near. The dog curled its lips, exposing wicked-looking teeth that glinted in the firelight. At the dog’s deep growl, the man stopped.

“Everyone back.” Bane herded the inhabitants to one side of the room.

A hysterical shout came from within the crowd. Kenzie looked in the same direction as the terrified woman. A young redheaded boy, barely out of swaddling, had come from a nearby entrance. He now stood between the animal and its escape.

The boy headed for the animal on unsteady legs. He laughed as he toddled forward, hands outstretched toward the dog.

Kenzie shoved through the crowd until she could move without being hindered. Bane met her gaze, and gave her a slight nod.

Her heart pounded at her desire for speed, but she kept her movements slow, angling in on the animal. Bane circled around, keeping to the stone wall. The dog seemed confused by the boy’s happy chatter. Its massive head swung from her, to the boy, and back again. Kenzie kept her pace steady, looking anywhere but into the animal’s eyes. It already felt threatened, but she didn’t sense an immediate attack.

Her hand came to rest between the animal’s ears at the same time Bane grabbed the boy from behind. He swung the bairn into his arms and ran from the hall. At a loud cry from the boy, the animal broke its contact with Kenzie. With a clear path available, the dog bolted for the safety of outside.

Kenzie turned back to the silent villagers. Surprise—and a little fear—registered on most faces. But McGowan and Maggie stood together. Their mutual assessing stares warned her that she may have made the most foolish mistake of her life.

Kenzie’s mother yanked a strangling vine from a cascading rose bush. “‘Twas foolish to aid the laird in rescuing the bairn.” She tossed the woody stem onto a pile, then stared at Kenzie, her hands on her hips and eyebrows raised. “Did you even consider what the villagers would think? You might believe the Mackay clan bodes you no ill will, but you’d be wrong.” Her voice wavered. “I’d thought the McLeods fond of me until—”

“Mama, we’ve no need to speak of this now.” Kenzie didn’t want to dwell on the past; there were enough irritating problems in the present.

“Aye, we do. Do you think I don’t see how you look at him?”

“Who?” Her mother couldn’t possibly know. Kenzie refused to meet her mother’s gaze as she poured the spent blossoms from her basket onto the growing collection of wilting weeds.

Lady Mcleod circled the pile and stopped close enough to brush the hair from Kenzie’s forehead. With a sigh, she placed a finger under Kenzie’s chin and tipped her head back until their gazes met. “The Laird.”

The sadness in her mother’s expression brought heat to Kenzie’s face. Her mother didn’t understand. “I find him . . . different from most men. He speaks to me as if he cares what I think, and does not treat me as if I’m different. I donna have to worry when I’m with him.”

Lady McLeod opened her mouth, then closed it. She took Kenzie’s hands and drew her to a bench tucked next to a boxwood arch that had long ago lost its shape. Once they’d settled on the cold stone, her mother reached over and traced her finger along the broken arrow of a nearby Cupid statue. Its green coloring made the neglected cherub nearly invisible against the hedge.

“What is it, Mama?” Kenzie hadn’t seen her mother this sad in years, and her chest tightened at the thought that this time she’d caused her pain.

“When I came to Clan McLeod, I thought your father content in our handfast. I’d had no doubt that we would wed, and when you were born I thought my happiness complete.” She plucked a thistle from her shift, then tossed it aside before meeting Kenzie’s gaze. “I was young, and in love. When the gossip started about my ability with plants, I assumed your father would defend me, but instead he encouraged the talk of witchcraft.”

She couldn’t have heard her right. “But you said the crofters sent for the witch hunter when a bairn you tried to help died. That my father had no choice but to set us aside.”

“I’d not wanted you to carry hatred for him in your heart, but the truth is he’d been searching for a reason not to marry.” Her mother swallowed and tears stood in her eyes. “He’d loved the woman who is now his wife. I was but a pawn. As I was no longer a fit wife, he could marry where he would and still appear to have made the liaison requested by his father and clan.”

The cold from the bench wormed its way through Kenzie. She wrapped her arms around her middle. Her father had planned to do this to them.

“Can you understand why I’d not encouraged your interest in the laird? Mayhap he will tell you the truth, but men like him have loyalties elsewhere. They aren’t free.”

Kenzie stood, her throat tight. “Bane, Laird Mackay, would never behave like my father. He’s honorable. He’d protect me.”

But was Bane free? Was he capable of the same deception? She’d thought him different, but what if she were wrong?

She couldn’t meet her mother’s gaze. Fear plucked at her heart, causing her fingers to curl into her palms, because her mother’s warning came too late. There could be no turning back. Her unwavering defense of Bane suddenly made sense. God help her.

She’d fallen in love with the laird of the Mackays.

Kenzie stepped back to admire her progress. It was good she’d started early this day. How could anyone have allowed such a magical spot to be overgrown and forgotten?

A shallow cave had been cut into the brae, supported by arching stone pillars. Two eagle’s heads, their beaks crossed, formed the top of the arch, while at the foot crouched two dragons. The entrance held a basin perched on a pedestal. Moss grew in patches on the rune-edged bowl, but the polished, white stone still gleamed in the early light.

Now that she’d cleared away most of the undergrowth, there was no doubt the structure was very old. The carving on the arch no longer showed fine detail, and chips marred several fragile edges of the bird’s feathers. Something about the design of the eagles seemed familiar. Where had she seen that pattern recently?

“Why are you here?” Bane’s words were as sharp as the stones surrounding them.

Kenzie started. She’d not heard his approach, nor had she expected the vehemence in his voice.

She turned to face him, heat flushing her skin. “This part of the garden needed my attention.” It wouldn’t do to tell him she’d looked for a distant spot where their paths wouldn’t cross. After her revelation, she couldn’t help feeling doubt. He’d kissed her—twice—but mayhap he kissed many women. Had she been fooling herself that he cared for her?

“‘Tis not part of the garden.” Bane looked over her shoulder at the cave and his lips thinned. “You won’t come here again.”

“Why?” These may be Mackay lands, but she wasn’t about to start taking orders from their laird—no matter how attractive she found him. And no woman would disagree that the laird of the Mackays made a striking figure. He seemed to fill the garden area with his presence. His eyes were the color of the moss on the marble bowl, grey-green, with a dark center. His regard held the promise of retribution if she didn’t do as he requested.

A little part of her wondered what he’d do if she refused. Would he carry her from the spot? Her body grew warm at the thought.

“You’re not safe.” He strode forward and stared into the basin, as if searching for answers. “If McGowan were to find you here . . . “

“What is this place?”

He raised his head and held her gaze. “Some say witches came here to cast spells. I used to think it held magic as a boy.”

“You came here?”

“Often.” He nodded toward the dragons. “I fought them almost daily.”

“But you stopped coming? Why?”

“My father died. I became laird.” He turned his back on the basin and faced her. “Foolish games. The place has been abandoned for years. Now people whisper that the spot must be evil.”

If he spoke true, he was right in saying she’d not want to be found here. “Do you believe that?”

“Nay, but others do.”

She wrapped her cloak closer to her body and glanced around. What had once been lovely somehow felt threatening. “You didn’t need to seek me out. You could have warned me about this place.”

“I’d not had the chance to thank you.” He came to stand near her, his breath stirring her hair. He cupped her face with his palm, his thumb trailing along the top of her cheek. “‘Twas brave, what you did for the boy.”

“‘Twas foolish. Now your clan sees me as different.” She gazed up into eyes that at the moment had lost their anger, but something else sparked in their depths. Her voice came out as a whisper. “Most don’t trust someone who can do what they can’t.”

“Nay, you are wrong. You are to be admired. I think there’s not one woman in my clan who would have faced that beast alone.”

“Not even Maggie?” She hated to bring the redhead up, but the possibility that his heart was already given had been worrying at her since the talk with her mother.

“Mayhap, she has much to recommend her, but she’d be doing the act for her own reasons.”

The respect and touch of sadness in his voice hurt Kenzie more than she’d expected. He obviously shared
something
with the comely woman.

Bane reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek with a calloused finger. “You never do what I expect.”

Gold glinted and Kenzie caught Bane’s hand, curiosity bubbling to the surface. Now she knew where she’d see that pattern. “Your ring. The eagles are fashioned the same on the arch.”

He turned from her, his hands clenched. “Aye. ‘Tis said the thing was crafted in this verra spot.”

He sounded like he resented the ring, but that didn’t make sense. “How did you come by it?”

“My mother told me ‘twas found in the cradle they brought from an unused part of the castle at my birth. They found it tucked among the blankets. My clan believes ‘tis the same ring that went missing over a hundred years ago.”

“What makes them think so?” If it had suddenly shown up at his birth, no wonder his clan believed he was destined for greatness.

A smile curled his sensuous mouth, but didn’t heat his gaze. “There could only be one with this workmanship, besides ‘tis described in our family bible.” Sarcasm laced his voice. “Legend has it the ring was given to the MacKays by a witch for defending natural magic and will bring good fortune to the wearer who passes a test.”

“What test?”

“I’ve never cared to ask. The inscription reads,
‘Le creideas
,
a ghraidh
.’ ‘Tis Gaelic for
With belief, love.”
He smirked. “My ancestors failed to pass on the secret. I’ve no time for foolishness or magic. ‘Tis but a piece of metal.” Bitterness edged his words. “One more item that marks me as leader of the Mackays.”

Her words were halting. “And you don’t want to be their leader?”

“‘Tis no secret. I was born to this position as an only son, and the ring sealed my fate. I’ve known what I have to do from birth, but that doesn’t mean ‘tis what I desire.”

“Then what do you want?”

He combed his rich, chestnut hair back from his forehead with splayed fingers. Fine lines etched the corners of his eyes. “I know not.” He smiled a smile that didn’t bring joy to his face. “Unless, of course, you gave me the ability to choose my fate?”

“None of us choose our fate.” Kenzie turned to admire the rugged beauty around them and waited for him to follow suit. “What do you see?”

He studied the rough terrain. “What I’ve seen all my life—responsibilities.”

“Mayhap that is the problem. Our lot in life is not for us to decide.” Sorrow prompted her to turn and place her palm on his chest. How could he have so much, and be disappointed in the having? “‘Tis how you approach life that matters.”

A myriad of emotions crossed his face: anger, confusion, hurt. When he tried to capture her hand, she broke away and hurried back along the path.

It hurt that he had everything she’d ever wanted—a clan, home, and people who cared for him, yet he found no joy in them. Mayhap he
was
like her father, rejecting all he’d been given because he desired something else.

It’s not as if she were stealing the horse
. Kenzie led the mare from the stable, positioning her alongside the mounting block still slick with dew. Her breath clouded in the early morning air.

If Bane had done what he promised, she wouldn’t be forced to return to the cottage on her own. But it had been four days now and he’d yet to agree to the short journey, though she asked each morning in front of his men.

Four days of visiting the training field to watch Bane. The thought of those mornings warmed her cheeks. Mayhap it wasn’t simply because he had fought for her right to be there, or her desire to ask about the animals at the cottage, that drew her to the field at the break of day.

A man who looked that good bare-chested must be wicked. At least that’s what she told herself when the days passed and he didn’t attempt to kiss her again.

During their brief conversations, Bane continued to assure her that Trouble and the other animals were well cared for. And, he pointed out that nothing had come of her concern over the Witch Pricker.

She clenched her teeth. Mayhap she should have told Bane about dodging the witch hunter’s advances in the hallways and solar. The only way to avoid him seemed to be working with her mother in the garden until every part of her body ached. It also solved her problem with Bane.

Kenzie smiled as she mounted the mare, hugging the animal’s flanks with her knees. Her mother had yet another hidden talent; she was adept at turning men away with very plausible excuses.

A sense of unease burst on her so suddenly that she searched the darkened corners of the stable, expecting to see someone or something threatening. Everyone should be abed. The fires had still been banked when she’d exited through the cooking area. It would be another hour before the servants rose to start the day. She scanned the darkness, but no movement or sound marred the pre-dawn darkness. She shook her head. She was becoming as jumpy as a fox run to ground by hounds.

With a slight nudge of her foot, she urged the mare out on the well-worn path. With any luck, she’d have the animal back before Bane had finished his training. He’d never even know she was gone.

The cottage had transformed in the short time she’d been away. Dark patches no longer marred the thatch roof. The door hung straight and the walls appeared solid.

Kenzie slipped from the mare’s back, skirted the cottage, and headed for the stable. It, too, showed signs of recent care. Bell’s welcoming neigh cut through the twitter of the birds as she reached the entrance.

The mare, Trouble, nestled at her side, tossed her head at Kenzie’s approach. The foal stopped suckling and took several steps toward her, then nuzzled her outstretched hand with his damp nose. She’d not been able to tell his coloring at his birth, but he was black with a white marking that resembled a lightning bolt down his forehead. She ran her finger along the mark and scratched Trouble between the ears until he lost interest and went in search of his next meal.

Kenzie smiled. Bane had told the truth when he’d said mother and foal were doing well. She wiped her moist hand on her skirt and went to see how the rest of their animals fared. By the time she’d visited them all, the sun was peeping over the tree line. Relief and contentment swelled in her as she made her way back to the cottage.