Highland Moonlight (24 page)

A loud agonizing moan of wood under too much pressure came from

inside the structure Alexander yelled a warning to the men and they

scrambled back out of the way. One of the rafters broke loose and the roof

fell inward with a crash that sent hot air, ash, and sparks flying upward.

Ladders were set into place against the walls and water poured down

onto the rubble while others doused the flames through window and door

openings blackened by soot and flame. Hissing steam billowed forth in

misty clouds to climb into the sky. Its appearance inspired a cheer of relief

from the villagers who stood watching.

He took in the smoke blackened faces around him in search of his

brother. He crossed to where Duncan stood armed with a lance.

“Well done, Brother!” he exclaimed, pounding Duncan on the back with

exuberance.

Duncan’s smile was white against the background of soot-blackened

skin. “‘Twas good you brought water in such abundance. ‘Twas that which

saved the other huts.”

For some moments, they watched as the remaining flames and

embers were doused with water.

“There is one more problem to be dealt with brother,” Duncan said.

“What is that?”

“‘Tis Tira’s hut that has burned.”

Alexander drew a deep breath. “Aye.”

“‘Twill be interesting having the two of them beneath one roof while

Tira’s hut is repaired.”

“I do not see a problem, Duncan.”

Duncan shook his head as he studied his brother. “You, brother, have

a lot to learn about lasses.”

****

Servants served the men a hastily reheated meal while others replaced the

borrowed items in which the water had been transported. The men were in

good spirits, now the threat to the village had been overcome. Their laughter

flowed as freely as the ale in which they imbibed even though the smell of

smoke lingered about them.

Tira sat at the end of one of the tables, her hair dark as pitch against

the pale blue of her gown. A boy of seven sat beside her, his red hair and

freckles a startling contrast to her dusky coloring. The child’s features were

obviously similar to his sires, Mary surmised, for he looked nothing like his

mother.

Her attention came back to the task at hand, as Duncan sat on the

bench before her and bared his arm for her inspection. A large blister had

formed on his forearm and the hair had been burnt away around it.

She cleaned away the black smoke stain from the burn with gentle

stokes of a sponge, taking care not to tear away the skin.

“‘Tis a soothing touch you have, Mary,” Duncan said.

She looked up into his smoke darkened face for a moment.

“Are you still angry with me, lass?” he asked.

She blotted the burn dry with a linen cloth then dipped her fingers into

the salve in a crockery bowl beside her. “Nay,” she answered with a shake

of her head. She smeared the salve on liberally. “I can not fault you for

wanting your brother to be happy in our marriage.”

“‘Tis for you I want that as well, Mary,” he said, his gray gaze serious.

She wrapped a clean strip of linen around Duncan’s arm, covering the

burn.

“Do not fash yourself about, Tira. She is nothing to Alexander.”

“If she was so little to him, you would not feel the need to offer me

comfort.” Her attention returned to him once she had secured the bandage.

“Will not her presence encourage me to defend the boundaries of my

territory?” she repeated his words.

Duncan’s features settled into an expression of sheepish regret. “At

times my wit overrules my reason, little sister. ‘Twas only a jest, though a

thoughtless one. I beg pardon for any pain it has caused you.”

“You may earn my forgiveness by seeing Tira’s hut is repaired quickly,”

she said.

Duncan flashed her a smile. “‘Twill be so, Mary.”

“Do not get the bandages wet when you bathe, Duncan. I’ll be sending

water to your chamber to be heated. One of the maids will mend your shirt

where it was burned.”

“Thank you, lass.” He flashed her another smile as he rose to join the

other men.

Mary emptied the water into a bucket then cleared away the pile of

discarded cloths she had used to clean the men’s injuries. Thankfully, there

had been few. Only a few villagers had sought her out for salve and

dressings. They had come, she was sure, out of curiosity more than need.

She would venture up to the village the next morning to see if they were in

need of anything.

The large wooden door of the great hall opened allowing an icy blast

of wind to accompany the men entering. As he crossed the distance

between them, Alexander’s gaze raked her from head to toe. “I see we have

both fared well, despite weather and fire.”

“Aye, Alexander.” A smile touched her lips. “You look cold, husband.

Come closer to the fire.”

He sat on the bench at the table, his back to the fire. Mary motioned to

one of the women serving. Water, with which to wash his hands, was

brought at once while the table was cleared and cleaned. The trencher filled

with meat and vegetables set before him brought a smile to his lips.

“Will you not join me, Mary?” he asked.

She sealed the crockery bowl of salve with a scrap of linen and a strip

of rawhide. “Aye.” She sat next to him.

“I had not thought to announce the news of the bairn in such a

manner,” Alexander said as he sliced the meat and offered her a piece.

“‘Tis probably been spoken of by the men already, Alexander.”

“Aye. I had hoped to speak of it myself in a more festive way.”

Her gaze swung to the men eating and laughing. “They are far into

their cups with celebration.”

Alexander chuckled. “To fight and win against a challenge brings with

it a joy that must be celebrated, Mary.”

“‘Tis a joy to be sure that no one was harmed greatly,” she agreed. “I

have given Tira and the lad a chamber in the west wing.”

“Good. We will start tomorrow repairing her hut.”

Her gaze returned to her husband’s features again and again as they

shared the meal. Her fear of having Alexander turn away from her was

greater than any other. Duncan’s jest of protecting her territory carried a bit

of truth. She would do whatever she had to keep Alexander by her side.

The servants began to clear away the debris of the meal. Her eyes

moved over his face and a quick blush warmed her cheeks as he turned his

head and captured her gaze with his own. A breathless weakness invaded

her limbs, and her heart began to beat like a drum beneath her breast.

Shaken by the depth of her emotions, she rose to her feet. “I must see

that Derrick’s and Artair’s bandages have been changed.” She excused

herself.

****

were times he found her pale blue gaze as mysterious as the depths of the

loch. He turned to join the men and found himself confronted by Tira.

“Aye,” he encouraged as she stood close.

“‘Tis a kindness for you to take me and Cassidy in, Alexander.” She

touched his arm. “‘Tis grateful I am to you.”

“You may thank Mary as well,” he returned. “We will start on the

morrow repairing your hut.” He folded his arms across his chest keeping a

distance between them for all to see. “How was it the blaze started?” he

asked, curious.

“I do not know. Cassidy and I were not there. One of the men in the

village gathered some of our belongings and threw them out a window or

we would have lost everything.”

“Mayhap the rest of us may share with you. If there be anything you

need tell Fergus or Mary.”

Tira shifted closer, her breast brushing his arm. “You did not treat me

with such coldness when you wished a woman to ease your needs,” she

reminded him softly, her hand resting on his forearm.

“‘Twas not only my needs that were served,” he said with a shrug. “I

was not wed then either, Tira.”

“She was bairned before you wed,” she accused.

“‘Twas a blessing and a joy Mary conceived so easily,” he said, his

tone flat.

A sly look tinted her eyes with black. “If the bairn be yours,” she

challenged.

Rage flared through him and his arms fell to his sides.

Tira’s gaze went from sly to fearful and she retreated as he stepped

forward.

Alexander forced a control over his anger that he was hard pressed to

retain. “The bairn is mine, Tira. Do not question it again. Should you speak

agin my wife to anyone, you will regret it.” He brushed past her to join his

men.

Duncan joined him as he accepted a drink of ale from one of the men.

“Did I not tell you ‘twould be interesting to have them both beneath the same

roof, Brother?” he questioned.

Alexander flashed him a look meant to silence him, but Duncan only

grinned.

The wooly brown hide of the slaughtered cow blended well with the

dull umber of the rocky terrain around it. Frozen beneath the layer of white,

the remains were not completely hidden by the snow. The white blanket lay

around it unblemished by the tracks of man or beast. Gently rolling hillsides

stretched onward to meet the snow topped mountains in the distance along

one side of the valley. On the other, the glittering ice against the banks of the

loch sparkled in the early morning light.

“Which way should we search, Alexander?” Duncan asked.

Alexander remained silent, his eyes roving over the area. He sought

the telling smoke of a peat fire or the plume of steam from a man’s breath.

No sign of the butchers disturbed the brae.

His gaze moved over the terrain for a likely place for the horses to have

been tied. He spied a small crop of brush in the open space and strode

forward, leaving deep tracks in his wake.

He brushed aside the snow with his hands, seeking the imprint in the

ground of a foot or hoof. After several minutes, he was rewarded by hoof-

shaped depressions turned in a northeasterly direction.

Choosing two to ride ahead as scouts, he signaled the men to mount,

and the patrol rode in single file in that direction. The men were silent, alert

to possible trouble at every turn. They had been trained well in the art of war

and fought well together in the past.

A feeling of unease had taunted him at Lorne because of the

butchered sheep on his father’s land. For days, his instincts had been

telling him danger was nearby. The attack against them in route to
Caisteal

Sith
proved his feelings were well founded. Where were they? He was

being challenged, but by whom? Collin MacLachlan was only one

possibility. There were always those who were discontent with what they did

or didn’t have. Neighboring clans were always hungry for more land and the

power it gave them. Whoever it was, he wanted an end to it now.

Nearly an hour passed before he discovered evidence of horses

passing into one of the narrow valleys at the edge of the loch. Within

minutes, one of the men he sent ahead returned with word of a group of

fifteen or twenty camping nearby.

The smell of peat fire reached them before the smoke became

evident. A goodly distance from the camp, Alexander raised a hand to halt

the men and dismounted.

“I wish to know from which clan they hail so I might seek restitution for

the suffering they have inflicted. The food they have stolen from our clan

must be replaced as well,” Alexander said. “Do not hesitate to spill blood,

should they press the matter.”

His orders given, the group armed themselves and each man covered

his mouth and nose with the wool of their kilts to prevent the mist of their

breath from rising in the cold air. Swiftly, their footsteps muffled by the snow,

the men fanned out in a sweep up the hillside.

The high-pitched warbling of a bird had them all crouching and going

still. James Campbell showed himself from above the rise.

“They have camped here more than once, I’d wager,” he announced

when he reached them “They’re almost thirty in number, for there were

others here waiting.”

Alexander studied his men’s faces. They were outnumbered by eight.

He could send for more men, but it would take until midday for the others to

reach them. He had no wish to endanger his men, but if they did not take a

stand now, the thieves might escape to threaten them with further trouble.

Three butchered cows discovered in as many days and evidence of

trespass on their land was enough. The fire in the village could have been

caused by them as well, though he had no true proof of it.

“How many look outs, James?”

“One at the north entrance, one at the south, and two on the rise

above.”

He nodded. “Could you tell how well they are armed?” he asked.

“Swords and daggers and long bows, but I saw no pollarms or