The Chieftain (23 page)

G
reetings and God’s blessing upon you,” Ilysa formally addressed the MacLeod chieftain. Now that she knew who he was, she was
far more curious than fearful. “What brings ye to the faery glen this night?”
Or any night.

“I remembered that ye collected healing herbs in the glen when the moon was full.” He lifted his hand toward the moon that
shone through the night clouds. “I took a chance that ye would be here.”

“But why?” Ilysa asked. “Our clans are on the verge of spilling each other’s blood. ’Tis dangerous for ye to come to Trotternish
alone.”

“I have fifty warriors within calling distance,” he said. “I needed to speak with ye.”

“Me?” Ilysa could think of nothing that would bring the great MacLeod chieftain into a faery glen just to see her.

“I believe I know who your father was,” he said.

“
My father?
” This was the last thing she expected to hear. As exhausted as she was, it was one surprise too many. The MacLeod chieftain
took her arm to steady her as tiny sparks crossed her vision.

“Come sit with me,” he said. “I’ll tell ye a story.”

Ilysa had given up expecting to find out who her father was years ago, yet Alastair MacLeod did not seem the sort of man to
make a joke of this. Blindly, she let him lead her to a log, then she sat with a
thump
as her legs gave way. He sat beside her and put a hand on her shoulder, an unexpectedly kind gesture.

“Do ye know about your mother being stolen away by one of my warriors?” he asked. “This would have been a long time before
ye were born.”

“Aye, though I only learned about it a short time ago,” Ilysa said. “She returned to our clan with my brother when he was
a babe.”

“I was at our fortress on the isle of Harris and knew nothing of what happened at the time,” he said. “In my absence, your
mother’s MacCrimmon relations complained to my son Ruari. He commanded her release and escorted her to the MacCrimmons himself.”

“I thought your children were all younger than that,” she said.

“I married late, but I had a natural son many years before my marriage,” he said, staring off into the darkness. “Ruari was
sixteen at the time, same as your mother.”

“I am grateful to your son for coming to her aid.”

“Ruari was kindhearted and gentle like his mother, not at all like the warrior he should have been.” The MacLeod’s silver
hair shone in the moonlight as he shook his head. “From the time he was a bairn, he cared for three-legged dogs and birds
with broken wings.”

“Was he a disappointment to ye?” Ilysa asked, her thoughts on Connor. Although Connor was a gifted warrior, his father had
never been able to see his other strengths because the two were so different.

“I tried my best to make a warrior out of him, but he was never more than passable with a sword.” The MacLeod chieftain gave
a deep sigh. “I could not name such a son my
tànaiste
, successor, but I did love him. I grieve for him still.”

The sorrow in his voice made Ilysa’s eyes sting, but she kept silent. Pity would only offend such a proud man.

“I recognized the brooch ye wore at the gathering,” he said. “I had given it to Ruari’s mother upon his birth, and it became
his when she died.”

Though she was not wearing it now, Ilysa’s hand went to her throat where the brooch had rested. How did her mother come to
possess a brooch belonging to the MacLeod chieftain’s family?

“After seeing ye wear the brooch, I returned to Dunvegan and spoke with those who knew my son best. Eventually, I pieced it
all together.” He paused. “I believe Ruari was your father.”

Ilysa sat up straight and blinked at him. She had been so caught up in the tale that she had forgotten where it was leading.

“’Tis easy to imagine how it happened. Your mother was a fragile creature who had been hurt—my son was bound to think himself
in love with her. As for your mother, my son would not have frightened her as other men did. Ruari was the one who rescued
her, and he had a gentle nature.”

“He could not be my father,” Ilysa said after she had gathered her thoughts. “What ye speak of happened near the time of my
brother’s birth, which was many years before mine.”

“Nothing happened then, but they met again nine years later when your mother accompanied your chieftain’s family to a large
gathering of the clans,” he said. “When they both disappeared soon after, no one guessed it was with each other.”

“How do ye know it was?” she asked.

“My son confided in his best friend, who I recently persuaded to tell me all about it,” he said. “Ruari knew, of course, that
I could not approve a marriage to your mother, as she was not close kin to a chieftain.”

“Of course,” Ilysa said, unable to keep a touch of bitterness from her voice.

“They became lovers, and he begged her to come live with him at Dunvegan and bring her son,” he continued. “But she refused.
She told him she had made a promise to care for your chieftain’s children, and she would not break it.”

“I can’t imagine my brother Duncan raised as a MacLeod,” she said. “His first chance, he would have run away.” Then it struck
her that if her mother had gone, she would have grown up as a MacLeod herself. As much as the prospect of being parted from
Connor grieved her, the thought of never knowing him was worse.

“When your mother chose to return to her own clan, it broke my son’s heart. Ruari died in a battle not long after.” He paused.
“I don’t believe he knew she carried his child.”

“I’m sorry ye lost your son.” Ilysa could not yet think of the young man in the story as her father. “Do ye want his brooch
back? Is that why ye came to tell me this?”

“I didn’t come for the brooch.” The MacLeod chieftain’s gaze was intent on her face. “I came for my dead son’s only child.
I came for my granddaughter.”

C
onnor was the worst kind of fool.

He had caught Ilysa red-handed. And yet, as he followed her slight figure through the darkness back to the castle, doubts
assailed him. That’s how much he loved her. Passion for a woman could rob a man of rational thought if he let it. Ilysa had
sneaked out of the castle for a secret meeting in the middle of the night with the chieftain of their enemy clan. There could
be no innocent explanation. And yet, his heart could not accept that Ilysa would commit this treachery.

Even if she hated him for taking a wife, he could not imagine Ilysa doing anything that would put the clan in danger. It made
no sense. Yet he had seen her with his own eyes, sitting and talking with the MacLeod chieftain as if they were old friends.

Or more than friends.

Connor wanted to shout at her and shake her—and most of all, to hold her in his arms and beg her to say she had not betrayed
him. But his emotions were too raw, the pain too fresh. Until he could think this all through with a clear head in the cold
light of day, it would be unwise to confront her. In his current state, he would believe anything she said, grasp at any straw.

Connor kept his gaze on Ilysa, slipping in and out of the moonlight ahead of him like a sprite, while he tortured himself
going over and over again what he had seen in the faery glen. When the MacLeod first appeared like a wraith from the darkness,
Connor had reached for his sword. He was on the verge of sprinting toward Ilysa to save her when instinct born of years of
fighting froze him in place.

First, he sensed the presence of other men in the darkness. When he paused to listen, he heard the telltale sounds of a large
group of warriors trying to be silent: a nervous hand sliding a dirk in and out of its sheath, the shuffling of feet, a muffled
cough. The hidden warriors would not have stopped him from rescuing her, but only led him to be cautious and cunning in devising
a plan to do it.

What truly halted him was Ilysa’s reaction to the MacLeod’s sudden appearance. She did not attempt to run, or even take a
step backward, when he approached her. Instead the pair appeared to exchange greetings. While Connor watched from his hiding
place, she allowed their clan’s greatest enemy to take her arm and sit beside her. Ilysa showed no resistance even when the
MacLeod chieftain rested his goddamned hand on her shoulder.

Connor had been too far away to hear their conversation. With so many MacLeod warriors hidden in the darkness, he dared not
draw closer. Yet their ease with each other was obvious, as was the MacLeod chieftain’s reluctance to part with her at the
end. The MacLeod held Ilysa’s hands, as if trying to persuade her not to leave him.

When did Ilysa have the opportunity to become acquainted with the MacLeod? Connor had been away in France for five years.
It could have happened then, somehow.

Each instance Connor had seen the two of them together at the MacIain gathering came back to him with sharp clarity. The first
time, he thought it an unfortunate coincidence that Ilysa was standing next to Alastair MacLeod at the hall entrance. But
now, in his mind’s eye, he saw the pink of her cheeks from the cold outside and Alastair striding away from the doorway as
if he had just entered.

The second time, Ilysa had not denied speaking with the MacLeod.
He doesn’t seem like such a bad man to me. I liked him.

How long had she been meeting him in the faery glen? The MacLeod was far from young, but the MacNeil’s age had not troubled
her. Connor did not believe they were lovers—at least not yet. The pair had neither kissed nor embraced. Again, he cursed
himself as a fool for wanting so badly to believe she was innocent—as if a clandestine rendezvous with the MacLeod chieftain
when the two clans were on the verge of war could mean anything except that she was disloyal.

Connor recalled how he had repeatedly given her all the reasons he could not wed her. Consorting with his enemy would be the
perfect revenge, rivaling his mother’s vengeful curse on his father’s other sons.

Ilysa came to me a virgin. She chose me first.

Whatever Ilysa had done was his fault. She had come to him innocent, not just in body, but in heart and spirit. And he had
brought her to this.

O
ur warriors did what?” Connor thundered at Lachlan.

His head pounded from lack of sleep, and his temper was frayed. The first rays of dawn were slanting through his windows when
he finally fell into his cold, empty bed. After a few hours of tossing and turning, he had finally fallen into a restless
sleep. He was dreaming of Ilysa dancing around the MacLeod chieftain with sparks flying from her fingertips when Lachlan and
Sorely banged on his door to report on their excursion.

The moment he saw them, he knew something had gone terribly wrong. The animosity between the two men veered to the edge of
violence.

Connor shifted his gaze to Sorely, who had given a glowing report of their success, then back to Lachlan, who had spoken last.

“Our warriors chopped off the heads of the dead MacLeods,” Lachlan repeated, “and sent them floating down the river.”

After his night at the faery glen, Connor had mistakenly thought things could not get worse. He was so angry his vision went
blood-red around the edges.

“We have every right to fight for the return of our lands,” Connor said through his teeth. “But this sort of barbarism turns
it into a blood feud. Our grandchildren will still be fighting because of what you’ve done.”

“I knew ye would be angry,” Lachlan said.

“Then why in the hell did ye not stop it?” Connor said, clenching his fists.

“I wasn’t the one in charge,” Lachlan spat out.

“Did the two of ye just stand by and let this happen?” Connor demanded, shifting his gaze from one to the other.

“I had my hands full keeping Sorely and the others from murdering a MacLeod farmer’s wife and daughter, after they raped them,”
Lachlan said, his nostrils flaring. “I thought that was more important than saving the heads of those already dead.”

“You participated in this travesty?” Connor said, turning on Sorely. When he saw the smirk on Sorely’s face, he knew. “Christ,
ye ordered it, didn’t ye?”

“Ye said to rattle their cages,” Sorely said with an insolent shrug. “That’s what I did.”

“Trotternish is not MacLeod homeland, so they would not have fought to the death for it as we will,” Connor said. “Now that
you’ve made it a matter of honor for them, they’ll bring the full force of their fury upon us, and it will cost us many more
lives.”

“I fought under your father and your brother Ragnall for years,” Sorely said. “This is exactly what they would have done.”

“Not my brother, not Ragnall.” Connor’s anger was cold and hard, like ice in his chest at the accusation, though he could
not say for certain that his father would not do such a thing.

“Ragnall was a fearsome warrior,” Sorely hissed, “
just
like your father.”

Sorely appeared to have no idea how close he was to being skewered with Connor’s sword.

“Well, I am
not
like my father,” Connor said, and for the first time he saw himself as a better leader than his father was. “I should have
made my expectations clear. We do not rape women or defile the dead!”

“’Tis a mistake to show an enemy mercy,” Sorely said, his face going an angry red. “Your father and brother understood that.”

Connor picked Sorely up by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall. “Get out of my sight before I order ye
cast adrift at sea as my father did to the nursemaid you’re so frightened of,” he said between his teeth. “Unlike that lass,
you’d deserve it.”

“You’d best mind your back with Sorely after this,” Lachlan said in a low voice after Connor tossed Sorely out the door. “Better
yet, lock him in the dungeon.”

He was tempted instead to hand Sorely over to Alastair MacLeod, who would give him a far worse death than casting him adrift
at sea.

“Sorely is too loyal to my father’s memory to go to Hugh, who was the brother my father hated most,” Connor said. “I will
deal with Sorely later. For now, I need every warrior.”

“What do ye think the MacLeod will do now?” Lachlan asked.

Connor went to the window and imagined a mass of MacLeod warriors charging across the field toward the castle.

“Taking the castle by force would cost him too many men,” Connor said. “He’ll want to consolidate his control of the countryside
first so that he can keep food and our clansmen from reaching the castle.”

“Up until now, he’s held Trotternish with relatively few warriors,” Lachlan said. “His control is thin.”

Connor had come to the same conclusion from his night forays.

“After what Sorely and the others did, Alastair MacLeod will be angry, but not foolish,” Connor said. “My guess is he’ll sweep
across the Snizort River with a large force, burning MacDonald homes in retribution and strengthening his hold on the countryside.
We must stop him from crossing the river with all those men, and he knows it. He’ll hope for a sound defeat to show us the
futility of our cause. After that, he’ll lay siege to the castle and bide his time while he starves us out.”

“Sounds about right to me,” Lachlan said. “How long will it take him to gather his forces?”

“Even if he moves quickly, it will take him a couple of days,” Connor said. “If we’re lucky, he’ll want to wait until after
the purification of the fields and herds by the fires of Beltane, which gives us three days.”

He hoped to hell the other MacDonald warriors and MacIain’s arrived before the MacLeod attack began. It would be a disaster
if the enemy crossed the river en masse.

“I’m making ye captain of my guard,” Connor said. “Come, I’ll speak to the men now. We must prepare for battle.”

The sun was high when Ilysa awoke. Though she still felt groggy from her long night, she told herself she must go downstairs
to see that everything was going as it should. She sat up. But then she remembered that the responsibility for managing the
household was not hers—or at least it would not be for much longer—and flopped back down.

She stared at the ceiling and contemplated the events of the last two days. Between the arrival of Connor’s bride and the
discovery that her father was the son of the MacLeod chieftain, she felt shaken to her foundations.

Alastair MacLeod is my grandfather
.

No matter that by Highland tradition she belonged to her father’s clan, she would always be a MacDonald. She had told Alastair
as much. She could no more go live with him among the MacLeods than she could live among the hated English. And yet, it made
her feel less alone in the world to know that she had a grandfather who wanted her.

Alastair was gruff, much like her brother, and he seemed an honorable man. Despite the briefness of their acquaintance, she
found she liked him a great deal. She felt certain that under different circumstances he and Connor would get along well.
It pained her that her newfound grandfather and the man she loved would soon be waging war against each other, as MacLeods
and MacDonalds seemed destined to do with regularity. If Ilysa needed it, that was one more reason to wed the MacNeil chieftain
and leave Skye.

When she finally dressed and went downstairs to the hall, she found the men preparing for war. She stopped one of them, who
told her that the chieftain expected the battle against the MacLeods to come soon, perhaps even before their other warriors
arrived.

Connor was busy giving orders to the men, who all seemed to be in motion. When he saw her, he stopped in place. For an instant,
his eyes burned into her. But then, he broke their gaze and abruptly left the hall.

Seeing him filled her with such a painful longing that she told herself it was just as well Connor could not bear to be in
the same room with her. All day, Jane and her mother were constantly underfoot, adding to her misery. The two expected to
be waited on and entertained, while all the other women oiled plaids to keep the warriors dry and prepared food for them to
carry.

Just before sunset, a cheer went up in the castle when Alex arrived with fifty warriors from their stronghold on the isle
of North Uist. Connor looked as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he greeted his cousin.

“Am I glad to see ye,” Connor said as they gripped forearms.

“I didn’t want to risk missing any of the fun, so I came early,” Alex said.

The sail from North Uist was shorter than the journey Ian and Duncan would make from the far end of Skye, but it was across
open water, which meant Alex had a greater risk of being held up by bad weather—not that he would ever admit a mere storm
could delay him.

“There’s my favorite lass in all of Trotternish,” Alex called out when he saw Ilysa.

He strode over to her and lifted her off her feet. As he spun her around, his laughter rang in her ears, and the oppression
that had closed in on her all day lifted for a brief moment.

“Alex!” Connor’s voice cut through the hall, his tone so sharp that it was like a blade to her heart. “We must speak without
delay.”

Connor turned on his heel and marched through the doorway to the adjoining building without a backward glance. When Alex raised
his eyebrows at Ilysa, she shook her head.

“Ye can’t keep anything from me—I’ll get if from ye later,” he said with a wink before he left to follow Connor.

“Ilysa!” Jane called.

Ilysa was too weary and profoundly unhappy to humor Jane. Instead, she pretended not to hear, which was so unlike her, and
went straight to her new bedchamber at the top of the keep. She began packing her things at once, determined to move forward
with her plans—and to not give in and go to Connor’s bedchamber. Somehow, she must learn to live without him.

Despite his coldness toward her today, Ilysa felt her resolve weakening by the moment. All that saved her from going to him
was the knowledge that Alex was in his chamber. The two would likely be up until all hours talking.

But how she wanted him. She fell across the bed and pounded her fists.
Why, why, why can’t I have him? Why can’t I be the one he weds?
She felt both confused and overwhelmed by loneliness. Perhaps things would look better in the morning when she was not so
tired and did not miss him so much. But tonight, she let the tears come.

Tomorrow she would be brave again.

“Praise God you’re here,” Connor said when he and Alex were alone in his chamber with the door closed. “I need someone I know
I can trust.”

“’Tis like that, is it?” Alex raised an eyebrow. “I thought ye would have weeded out Hugh’s spies by now.”

“They are like weeds,” Connor said as he poured them both cups of whiskey from the jug on the table. “Pull one and two more
appear in its place.”

Connor told him about Hugh’s attack on the farms on the east side of Trotternish, the murder of the two guards, and the skirmish
with the MacLeods that ended with heads in the river.

“Ach, that is bad,” Alex said, making a face.

Though it did not solve anything, Connor felt better after discussing all the disasters with Alex—all of them, that is, except
Ilysa.

“I have news as well,” Alex said.

“I can’t take more bad news, so this better be good,” Connor said and tossed back another whiskey.

“I wouldn’t call it bad news, but your uncle Archibald is dead.”

“Dead?” Connor straightened. “I saw him not long ago. What happened?”

“He let Hugh Dubh into his home is what happened.” Alex paused to take a drink. “Hugh murdered Archibald
while he was a guest in his brother’s home.
”

Hugh was not only guilty of a cowardly act and murdering his last brother, but he had violated the ancient and sacrosanct
Highland code of hospitality between host and guest, which was almost worse.

“The story is that, after enjoying a fine meal at Archibald’s table, Hugh called his brother to the window to look at his
new galley—then stuck his dirk in Archibald’s back.”

After a long silence, Connor said, “I was invited to join them.”

“Ye were wise not to go,” Alex said and lifted his cup to Connor.

“I would have gone,” Connor said, feeling the weight of his errors and misjudgments like a boulder on his back, “except that
Ilysa locked me in my own dungeon to prevent me.”

Alex threw his head back and laughed. There was nothing for it then but to tell him the full tale, which caused his cousin
to laugh so hard that tears rolled down his face.

“I always knew that lass had more spark than she let on,” Alex said, slapping the table. “I can’t wait to tell Ian and Duncan.”

Connor would never hear the end of it from the three of them, though he could count on them never to undermine his authority
by speaking of it to anyone else.

“Ilysa is as stubborn as her brother. She just hides it behind a sweet manner,” Alex said. “That must have been why ye sent
her packing to Dunscaith, aye? I’d say ye owe her an apology.”

Connor’s stomach dropped. Alex had no idea how wrong he was.

“A large gift is in order, for she saved your sorry arse,” Alex said. “What would ye say your life is worth? A fine horse?
A bag of gold?”

Ilysa had saved him. Did this mean he was wrong about the rest? But he had seen her meeting with the MacLeod. There was no
mistaking that. He could think of no reason for their meeting except treachery, but he should have heard her out. He owed
her that.

He was anxious to go talk to her. Yet he had such a weakness for Ilysa that he decided to tell Alex about her meeting with
the MacLeod and hear his thoughts first. Connor took a gulp of his whiskey. He dreaded telling him what Ilysa had done, knowing
how fond Alex was of her.

“Alex, there is something I must tell ye.” He paused. “’Tis about Ilysa.”

“For God’s sake, Connor,” Alex said, springing to his feet. “You’re fooking Duncan’s baby sister, aren’t ye? I knew it!”

This was not what he had intended to disclose to Alex, but his cousin was exceptionally perceptive about such things.

“Ye can stop worrying about Hugh and the MacLeods,” Alex said, gesturing with his hands as he paced the room. “Duncan will
kill ye first.”