The Chieftain (27 page)

H
ugh’s camp is on Creag-na-Feile, the high cliff just up the coast,” Lachlan said, looking pale and grim after emerging from
his father’s house. “He has fifty men there.”

“Ten for each of us, not bad odds,” Alex quipped, though Connor knew he was as worried as the rest of them.

They took the path up to the soaring basalt rock cliffs at a dead run. Connor looked down the sheer two-hundred-foot drop,
and a shiver went through him as he thought of the battered body of Lachlan’s mother at the base of the cliff.

When he saw the smoke from a fire rising from a small stand of trees, he raised his hand to signal that the camp was just
ahead. They crouched in a circle to make their plan.

“Hugh has too many men. A simple attack would put the women and children at risk,” Alex said. “We must come up with some other
plan.”

“Leaving them with those men puts them at risk as well,” Duncan said. “We can’t wait.”

“You’re both right,” Connor said. “It’s me Hugh wants. I’ll offer myself in exchange for the hostages.”

“No,” Ian said, “the clan cannot afford to lose ye.”

“I’ve made my decision,” Connor said, rising.

“Wait, there is another way.”

The four of them turned as one to look at Lachlan. The circle of trust among Connor, his cousins, and Duncan stretched back
to boyhood, and they were unaccustomed to relying on anyone else in matters as grave as this.

“I shot my first arrow at Ian that day because I mistook him for Connor,” Lachlan said. “From any distance, ’tis impossible
to tell the two of ye apart.”

“I see,” Ian said at once. “I can go in for Connor.”

“No,” Connor said. “You’re not dying for me.”

“I don’t intend to,” Ian said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I think Lachlan is suggesting I serve as bait to lure
Hugh out.”

The few trees around the camp afforded little protection from the wind and rain. As Ilysa huddled with Flora and the children
near the smoky fire, she kept a wary eye on the men who encircled them like wolves. The throbbing cut on her shoulder was
nothing to what these foul men had in mind for her and Flora. While she was certain Connor and the others would find them,
it might not be soon enough.

“I fear we’ve no chance of escaping before dark,” Flora breathed in Ilysa’s ear.

“Aye, I must act now,” Ilysa said and whispered her plan.

She reached into the leather pouch tied to her belt for her dried herbs. In the weeks that Hugh had held Dunscaith, she had
protected herself by spreading the rumor that she had learned dark magic from Teàrlag. Only a few of these men had been with
Hugh then, but that was a start.

“I am a daughter of the Sea Witch!” she cried out in a loud voice as she stood and raised her arms. “I will curse any man
who harms us!”

She tossed some of the herbs onto the fire and sparks flew high into the sky. The men who had started to laugh stopped abruptly.

“I was born at midnight on a night of the full moon,” she said as she walked slowly around the fire, meeting the eyes of each
man. Every Highlander knew these were signs of someone born with The Sight. “I can see your future. Every one of ye who remains
here shall be dead by morning.”

As Connor crept through the grass toward the camp, he was astonished to hear Ilysa’s voice carried on the wind—and no others.
He moved closer and saw her circling the fire.

“I see your blood!” she called out, and sparks flew from her fingers as they had at the faery glen. Then she swept her arm
around the circle, pointing as she spoke in an ominous voice. “
Mìle marbhphàisg ort!
” A thousand death shrouds on you. “
A’ phlàigh ort!
” A plague on you!

With their attention riveted on Ilysa, none of Hugh’s men noticed Alex and Duncan, who were creeping around the other side
of the camp to get closer to Flora and the children. Their task was to separate Flora and the children from their captors
as quickly as possible and protect them. When Duncan and Alex were in position, Connor signaled to Ian and Lachlan.

“Hugh!” Lachlan called from the opposite side of the camp and twenty yards out. He held Ian in front of him, with his arm
locked around Ian’s throat and his dirk pricking his side.

Hugh dumped Rhona off his lap and strode to the edge of the camp.

“I’ve captured Connor,” Lachlan shouted, “and I’m willing to make a trade.”

Ian’s black hair fell over his face as he lolled his head forward. Blood ran down his temple—a nice touch—and the chieftain’s
brooch was visible on his shoulder.

Connor waited, every muscle taut. Hugh hesitated, then finally signaled to his men to follow him. As soon as they moved away,
Alex and Duncan put themselves between Hugh’s men and Flora and the children. Fear choked Connor when he saw that Ilysa was
on the opposite side of the fire and unprotected.

“Here I am, Uncle,” he said, rising to his feet. “Come and get me.”

Hugh looked back and forth between him and Ian, confusion on his face. By now, Lachlan and Ian had also pulled their swords,
and the three of them converged on Hugh. If they could kill him, there was a good chance the others would flee.

Hugh was quick and fell back among his men. The fight began in earnest then. Connor swung his claymore side to side, slashing
pirates and dodging blades, trying to get to Hugh, but there were always more men in his way.

After a while, the odds did not seem quite as bad. He saw a few of the pirates and Rhona fleeing across the field. A moment
later, he saw sparks and knew why.

“Every one of ye shall die!” Ilysa was shouting from beside the fire. “I see your blood! I see your death shrouds!”

Ilysa’s efforts were helping considerably, but he wished to hell she would not call attention to herself. He looked to Alex
and Duncan, who were closer to her, but they had their hands full battling men near the children. Leaving Hugh to Ian and
Lachlan, Connor worked his way toward Ilysa.

Then, through the melee, he saw Hugh moving toward her, too. Connor fought like a madman, killing one, two, three men who
stood in his way. By then, Hugh was dragging Ilysa away from the camp.

Connor finally broke free and followed Ilysa’s screams at a dead run. Hugh had her over his shoulder and was headed for the
path along the cliff. Connor was younger and faster, and he was sure he could catch Hugh before he got very far. But when
Hugh reached the edge of the cliff, he did not turn and follow the path.

Fear struck Connor like a bolt of lightning, and he slowed his steps. Hugh held Ilysa off her feet against his side as he
stood with his back to the cliff. Connor couldn’t breathe when he saw how close Hugh’s heels were to the edge. The ground
could easily crumble beneath his feet and send them both plunging backward.

“It’s finished, Hugh,” he called over the wind. “There’s no escape.”

“Then I’m taking her with me!”

Hugh glanced over his shoulder, and Ilysa shrieked as he teetered backward. Connor’s heart stopped beating until the man regained
his balance.

“For God’s sake, Hugh, get away from the edge,” Connor said and started toward them.

“Stay back, or I’ll toss her over right now,” Hugh said.

“Let her go,” Connor said. “Ye have no grudge against her.”

“No, but I’ll take my revenge against you the same way I did your father.”

“I know what ye did to Lachlan’s mother.” Connor caught Ilysa’s eye and inched forward. Somehow he would get to her in time.
“But ye can’t do that this time and save yourself.”

“I admit,” Hugh said with a laugh, “I’ll enjoy this less than sending your father’s lover over the cliff alone.”

“My father had lots of women,” Connor said. “Ye were a fool to think ye could hurt him that way.”

“Oh, I did have my revenge,” Hugh said. “He had a mindless passion for your mother, and he never recovered from her death.”

“What do ye know about that?” Connor said, trying to divert Hugh as he moved forward a bit more.

“It was me she ran off with,” Hugh said.

Connor maintained his focus, though he was shocked by the revelation. A few more steps, and he would be close enough to lunge
for Ilysa.

“Ye didn’t know that, did ye?” Hugh said. “I was eighteen, half my brother’s age, with the good looks he used to have, when
she chose me.”

“My mother didn’t give a damn about ye,” Connor said.

“We loved each other!” Hugh shouted.

“She only used ye to punish my father,” Connor said, easing forward. “Ye were nothing next to him.”

“No, she wanted me,” Hugh said, his eyes wild.

“She couldn’t love a coward like you,” Connor spat out. “Why didn’t ye die in that storm, Hugh?”

“I—I—”

“You were too afraid of my father to meet her yourself,” Connor said, cutting him off. “Ye sent someone else to fetch her.”

Sweat trickled down his back. He was almost close enough now. He could not risk shifting his gaze from Hugh to signal Ilysa.

“I did love her,” Hugh said. “I just wasn’t willing to die for her.”

“Then ye don’t know what love is.”

“I understand it well enough to know how much this is going to make you suffer,” Hugh said, his eyes gleaming.

Connor’s dirk was already flying through the air when Hugh stepped backward off the cliff, clutching Ilysa.
Thunk!
The blade struck Hugh through the eye. His arms jerked out, releasing Ilysa, as the two toppled backward.

Connor lunged for her and caught her wrist. With a sudden jerk, he fell flat and was pulled forward until his head and shoulders
went over the edge, but he held on.

Ilysa screamed as she dangled from his hand while Hugh fell spread-eagle down the two-hundred-foot cliff.

“Don’t look down,” he shouted. “I’ve got ye.”

Ilysa fixed her gaze on him and nodded.

Connor’s hand was slippery with sweat. He died a thousand deaths as she started sliding from his grasp.
Nay, I will not lose her.
He dug his toes into the dirt and stretched still farther over the cliff until he caught her forearm with his other hand.
He swallowed as he watched her body sway with nothing but the distant sea below her. Then, with all his strength, he hoisted
her over the edge to safety. They fell backward tangled together with her lying on top of him.

“That was far too close.” He brushed her windblown hair out of her eyes with a shaking hand. His heart was beating so hard
he feared he might never recover. “Dear God, I almost lost ye.”

“No, ye didn’t.” Ilysa looked down at him with her sweet smile. “I knew ye would never let me fall.”

H
old still!” Connor commanded as he spread the lily-scented salve over the cut on her shoulder. “Don’t make me tie ye to this
chair,
mo rùin
.”

“’Tis a wee scratch,” Ilysa complained.

A wee scratch? He shuddered as he remembered feeling the damp stickiness on her back while he held her on the cliff. When
he looked at his hand and saw blood, fear struck his heart like a shard of ice.

“’Twas lucky Lachlan was there to show us where Hugh had taken ye,” he said.

“Luck had no part in it,” she said, tilting her head back to smile at him. “Lachlan was there because you’re a leader who
engenders loyalty. That’s why ye prevailed over Hugh and why you’ll be one of the great chieftains of our clan.”

She merited a kiss on her forehead for that. Fortunately, he had been able to bring her home quickly after the skirmish. Lachlan
had also learned from his father where Hugh’s boat was hidden a short distance up the coast. Despite Ilysa’s foolish objections,
Connor had carried her there on his back, and they had sailed home in their new galley.

They had found some of Hugh’s plunder hidden on his boat, which meant Connor could make good on his pledge to Alastair MacLeod.
He would give the remainder to the families whose homes had been raided or burned.

“Are ye finished yet?” Ilysa asked.

“A healer makes a poor patient.” As he made the final knot in the bandage, his gaze drifted to where her pink nipples showed
beneath her chemise.

“Ye do take good care of me,” she said, and from the heated look in her eyes, she didn’t mean just the bandage.

“Ye know me—I take my duty seriously,” he said as he ran his finger along the curve of her cheek.

She moved his hand to her breast and pulled him down for a long kiss. After one turned into several, she asked in a breathless
voice, “Do we have time?”

“I’m chieftain, aren’t I?”

Just as their lips touched again, the door banged opened. Connor sighed as women and small children burst into the chamber
like a spring flood.

“You’ll have plenty of time for that after the wedding,” his sister Moira said. “Out with ye now. We’ve come to help the bride
dress.”

Before he could greet Alex’s wife, Glynis, who had arrived with their newborn son, one of Silèas’s twins climbed on the table
and the other escaped up the stairs to the tower. If those wee red-haired lasses were half the trouble at sixteen that they
were at two, Ian would grow old long before his time.

“I’m glad I had the masons narrow the tower window.” Connor exchanged glances with Ilysa, who had thought the measure he had
taken to protect their future children a tad excessive. If he could have, he would have removed the nursemaid’s ghost as well,
though Ilysa assured him she was harmless.

“Your brother Lachlan is a fine-looking man,” Moira said to Flora from where the two of them stood at the window overlooking
the courtyard. “We must find a wife for him.”

There was a general murmur of assent from the women, as if that were an obvious conclusion.

“Will ye find a wife for Niall, too?” Connor asked out of curiosity, which made the women laugh.

“Niall’s not ready,” Silèas said. “And when he is, he won’t need our help.”

Joking aside, Flora would be needing a new husband to help her with all those children, after her grief over Malcom eased.
Connor intended to hand over that particular chieftain’s duty to his wife, although Ilysa had expressed the strange notion
that Cook was just the man for Flora.

“Go,” Moira said, with a hand on Connor’s back. “Everyone’s waiting.”

“I’ll see ye in the hall,” he said to Ilysa and leaned down to give her a last lingering kiss.

When Moira cleared her throat, they broke the kiss and smiled into each other’s eyes.

The sound of pipes and the buzz of voices filled the stairwell as he descended. As soon as he entered the hall, the crowd
began chanting his name and stomping their feet. The clan was in the mood for a celebration. Connor raised his fist in acknowledgment,
and the crowd roared.

By good fortune, Father Brian had arrived for his annual visit, which ensured the festivities would go on for days. Today
was devoted to the chieftain’s wedding, but the priest would later bless all the babes that had been born and the marriages
that had taken place since his last visit.

With all the greetings and wishes of good fortune, it took Connor some time to reach the far end of the hall where his cousins
and Duncan waited, dressed as he was in their best saffron shirts and plaids. At Duncan’s signal, the boisterous crowd parted
down the middle and went quiet, save for the occasional voice of a child.

Connor stood with Ian and Alex on one side of him, and Duncan on the other, as he waited for his bride. It was right that
these men, who were his close companions since childhood and who had each played an essential part in restoring their clan,
be at his side on this special day. The four of them had accomplished what they set out to do when they returned from France
to find their clan in near ruin. Their lands and people were secure once more. And with Hugh’s death, the hatreds and sorrows
caused by the previous generation were finally laid to rest.

He smiled to himself thinking how it was not a fierce, sword-wielding MacDonald warrior who had wrested Trotternish from the
MacLeods, but a deceptively frail-looking lass. That was Ilysa’s wedding gift to the clan.

At last, his bride came through the doorway—and stole his breath away. Sweet Ilysa had surprised him once again by coming
to their wedding as his faery dancer. She was a vision in gold in the luminous gown, which was so light it floated as she
walked. He was relieved to see that she wore a chemise beneath it so he did not have to order all the men to turn their backs.
Her glorious red-gold hair fell in loose tendrils to her waist, and there were tiny blue flowers in it like the ones she had
worn at Mingary Castle.

His heart swelled as she joined him. They clasped their hands, palm-to-palm, and he wrapped the strip of linen Duncan handed
him around their wrists three times. After they exchanged the traditional pledges, she started to turn for the next part of
the ceremony, but he held her in place. She widened her eyes and tilted her head to the side to remind him what came next.

“I’m no finished,” he whispered. A simple vow wouldn’t due for such a lass. “I pledge my sword, my body, and my heart…,” he
began and then continued, pausing between each line:

Connor turned then to present his bride to his clan, and the hall erupted into wild cheers of approval. This chieftain’s wife
was beloved by her clan. With Ilysa at his side, he would be the man and chieftain she believed he could be.