The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3) (21 page)

“What is it with you two?” She searched his face. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He closed his eyes. “The lady and I are at an impasse.”

“Not too many would take the vow you made as a child seriously. Why do you persist? If you want Sky so badly, why am I pressed up against this tree with your . . . er . . . umm . . .”

He backed away from her and faced the loch. His face burned, and his tarse throbbed. He ached all over with wanting her. “Mayhap ’twould be best if you returned to the keep.”

“Oh, I’m sure it would be, but I’m not going to. I want to know what’s going on. Clearly Sky doesn’t want the same thing you do. Why do you keep it up?”

Keep it up?
She couldn’t possibly understand the implications of what she’d just said, or the effect her words had on him.
“
’
Tis complicated.”

“I’m smart. I don’t find complicated things daunting at all.” She huffed out a breath. “Maybe it would do you some good to talk it through with an outsider.”

“Humph.”

“Again . . . use your words, Hunter.” She came around to face him. “I’m leaving soon. What harm can there be in spilling your guts to me?”

“Spilling my guts?” One side of his mouth quirked up. “Sounds quite painful.”

“You know what I mean.” She lifted her chin and crossed her arms in front of her.

Adorable, in a fierce kind of way. He took another calming breath. “Mayhap you have it aright.”

“Of course I do.”

Her boastful tone brought a smile to his face. “Our clans are patrilineal. I’ve ne’er met my kin on my father’s side. He disappeared before I was born—taken by Giselle into the future I am told, and he perished before the faerie could return him to us. I am a MacConnell through my da, and because of that, I’ve ne’er truly felt as if . . .” His throat closed up.

“Give me a break.” She threw her hands in the air. “Don’t tell me you feel like you don’t really belong here with the MacKintosh.”

He shrugged.

“Hunter, not only do you
belong
to this clan, but you are
adored
by this clan to the point where it’s a little bit sickening.”

Heat crept up his neck. “Think you?”

“So, let me see if I understand this little drama correctly.” She shot him a wry look and wagged her finger at him. “You want to marry Sky, your foster sister, because you think doing so will somehow make you feel like you truly have a place with the MacKintosh—when in reality, you have always
been
a MacKintosh for real.” She shook her head. “Besides which, if clan identity comes from the father, your children will be MacConnells anyway, right?”

The way she said it made him feel like a lad of eight or ten. “What do you ken about how I
feel
or what I want?”

“Huh. I believe I’ve hit the nail on the head, or you wouldn’t be as miffed as you are right now. That’s called a
defense mechanism
. And by the way—you wear an entire suit of armor comprising the stuff.”

“Enough, my lady,” he snapped a little too harshly. “You have given me much to think on, and for that I am truly grateful.”

“Liar.”

He growled low in his throat, outrage grinding his control down to a nub.
“
’Tis well past time I returned to my duties.” He bowed. “I bid you good day.”

“Good day to you as well, Sir Hunter. I wish you well in your bogus quest of epic proportions. ”

“
Bogus?
Is there even such a word?” He glowered.
“By the saints, you can be most trying.”

“By the saints, you are as blind as my grandma’s thirteen-year-old pug.”

Having no idea what she meant, he let her have the last word. Clearly ’twas important to her to do so. Hunter strode across the bailey, rejecting out of hand all she had said. Meghan kent naught of the way of things in his century, and even less of him.

Angus met him at the bottom of the stairs to the keep. “Hunter, a moment of your time?”

“What is it?”

“Two of Sir Cecil’s guards and pages left us this day.” His brow lowered until his bushy gray eyebrows nearly hid his eyes.

“Aye.” Out of the corner of his eye, Hunter caught a glimpse of Meghan as she came in through the portcullis. He wanted to shake her by the shoulders and then kiss her senseless until she could challenge him no further. “Cecil told us he meant to send word to his kin of his plans to travel with us to Inverness, and he’s sending the pages home before him.”

“The Cunninghams live no’ too far from the
Sassenach
border to the south, aye?”

“Aye.” Hunter’s attention turned to the older man. “Why do you ask?”

“I ask because I happened to be in the village when the Cunninghams took their leave.”

“And?” The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he tensed.

“They didn’t take the road south, lad.” Angus frowned. “They went north.”

Hunter searched his mind for a plausible reason why Cecil would send his guards north. “There are crofters to the north, aye? Crofters with daughters who are of marriageable age. Mayhap one of the guards formed an attachment whilst here and wished to pay his respects before departing.”

“Mayhap you have it aright.” Angus scratched his beard. “Still, ’twould ease my mind a bit if you took more than six men with you.”

“I see no need, but I’ll increase the number to ten. Will you see to it?”

“Aye. Think you to take an alternative route to the one you shared with Sir Cecil?”

“Nay.” He shook his head. “This far from home and on our land, Cecil canna have too many soldiers at his disposal without our being aware of them. Have any of our scouts noticed anything out of the ordinary whilst doing their rounds along the borders?”

“Nay. No’ a thing.”

“I dinna fathom the reasons why Cecil would conspire against us, yet I canna shake the feeling that some form of treachery is afoot. If he and his handful of guards do mean to cause trouble, I’d just as soon settle the matter once and for all. We will no’ turn away from a fight if that’s what he seeks.”

“You do us credit, lad.” Angus slapped his shoulder. “Spoken like a true MacKintosh.”

All of his fears and insecurities surged through him in a cold rush. Would Angus say “like a true MacKintosh” if he truly saw Hunter as anything
but
a MacKintosh?
Damnation.
This day could not end fast enough to suit him.

Hunter sharpened his sword on the turning stone wheel in the armory, his mind doing inventory of the things he’d need to pack for the trip. He stopped the wheel and examined his blade. ’Twas as sharp as ’twould ever be. Slipping the claymore into its scabbard, he surveyed the chamber.

On the morrow, he and ten of their best warriors would escort Meghan to Inverness to return her to her time. The notion caused a hollowness within him, and he rubbed his chest to ease the ache. She wanted to go home, and he’d vowed to see that she did. ’Twas for the best. It had to be done.

Redirecting his errant thoughts, Hunter ran through the list of preparations, making sure all was ready for their journey. He’d told Tieren to pass along his instructions not to share any information with Cecil’s remaining guardsmen or his squire. All that remained for the evening was to sup with his foster family. He intended to retire early to get a good night’s rest. If sleep would come to him, ’twould be a miracle indeed.

The door to the armory creaked open. Hunter looked up to find Tieren standing half in and half out. Angus stood behind him. “What is it?”

The two men entered, closed the door behind them and approached. Tieren spoke first. “We’ve had a thought or two about the journey to Inverness.”

“Aye?” Hunter had always been able to rely upon Tieren’s uncanny ability for strategy, and he sorely missed the closeness they’d once shared. He’d wracked his brain for some way around their current estrangement, but ’twas not he who had shown himself a false friend. It did not fall to him to rectify the matter.

Angus continued. “Cecil believes you mean to bring six men with you, and we see no reason to upset whatever plans he might have by showing our hand.”

“He may no’ have any plans at all. We dinna ken why his guards went north. Did you have anyone follow them?” Hunter straightened a few lances that had slipped down in their rack.

“Nay.” Angus shrugged. “Mayhap you have it aright and naught is amiss. All the same, ’tis good to be prepared, aye?”

“What do you suggest?”

Eagerness emanated from Tieren. “What if we leave with only the six we’d planned on from the start? Have two of the additional guards follow at a safe distance behind. Our lads ken well the route we will take.”

“Aye,” Angus added. “And have the other two depart afore you. Have them stay off the road and scout your way ahead. If Cecil is leading you into an ambush, our warriors will circle back to warn you, and you can wait for the two who watch the way behind to catch up before you proceed.”

“
’Tis a sound plan,” Hunter agreed. “What about the two remaining Cunningham guards who travel with Cecil? If there is aught afoot, I dinna like the idea of having them in our midst. Do we have time to arrange for their disappearance?”

A wolfish grin split Tieren’s face. “Aye.”

“Good. Have them taken to Meikle Geddes to be held until we ken for certain whether or no’ Cecil is up to something.”

“Tieren and I will see to it anon.” Angus winked. “The Cunningham guardsmen will have a bit more to drink this eve than they planned. There are fishing boats enough lining the shore that we can secret them away in the dark of night.” Chuckling, he headed for the door. “I imagine Sir Cecil will put on quite a show when he finds his men have gone missing. Until tomorrow, lads.” Angus tipped his head and left the armory.

Tieren shifted, and his discomfort filled the space between the two of them. “I will have my say before we depart for Inverness.”

Hunter straightened, bracing himself for more betrayal. “Say what you must.”

“Brothers fight oft enough, and envy plagues even the greatest among us from time to time.” Tieren stared at him, his eyes filled with determination. “Never doubt my loyalty to you, Hunter. Never doubt I love you like a brother, for that is what you are to me.” His face grew ruddy, but his gaze held.

His words were a balm to Hunter’s soul. He cleared his throat. “As you are a brother to me.”

“Good.” Tieren rubbed his hands together. “As your brother and the elder of the two of us, there is more I need to say, and I do so out of caring.”

“By the saints, Tieren—”

“Nay, I willna be gainsaid in this.” He shook his head. “All of us are blind to our own folly from time to time, and you more so than others. There are those who will take advantage of that blindness to best you.” He shrugged. “Even I will do so if the situation warrants.”

“How do you mean to
best
m
e
?” His mind reeled. “After declaring your loyalty, you would say such a thing?”

“Aye. If I can, I will prevail when it comes to matters of the heart.” He grunted. “Suffice it to say I meant every word I said, little brother. ’Tis no fault of mine you’re an idiot. I do you no wrong in this.”

“I like it no’ when you speak in riddles, and even less when you call me names.”

Tieren chuckled. “Dinna let it keep you up this night. We’ll both need our wits about us on the morrow.” He started for the door. “One more thing. If Meghan finds a way to return home, I intend to go with her.”

His pulse raced, and his mouth went dry. “She has agreed to this?”

“I have.” He paused upon the threshold. “She gave me no answer, and I did no’ press her for one—yet. If she will have me, I
will
follow her to the future.”

“What if she canna find a way home?”

“Then I suspect we will have more to fight about in the near future.” He shrugged. “But my feelings for her do no’ change how I feel about you, nor does it affect my loyalty.”

Tieren left, shutting the door a little too forcefully, sending the lances Hunter had just straightened into disarray. Hunter moved to the table where a dozen arrows awaited repair. He picked up two of them and cracked the shafts over his knee. The splintering sound and the bruising force across his thigh eased some of the tension banding his chest.

He had neither the time nor the will to puzzle out what Tieren meant with his cryptic speech about his blindness or besting him. Hadn’t Meghan also accused him of blindness? Neither she nor Tieren understood him, and that’s all there was to it.

’Twas enough to have peace between him and Tieren. He trusted his friend to guard his back, as he would guard Tieren’s—like they’d always done. He prayed he’d not lose Tieren to the future, and the thought that he might never see him or Meghan again plagued him. Loss was the one thing he could not tolerate. He searched the armory for something else to break, and thought better of it. No sense in wasting perfectly good weapons.

He scratched at the stubble on his face. He had just enough time to bathe and shave before supper. Soaking in a tub of hot water would soothe his frayed nerves. Mayhap he’d calm himself enough to face Cecil at table this eve without throttling the man before they set out for Inverness. What was he planning? Did he mean to snatch Meghan away? For certes, she’d wounded his pride with her rejection. Surely Cecil kent better than to incur his wrath.