Beloved Ruins, Book 1 Page 21

  “Nay, they are gone now and they dinna take a lass with them.”

  Behind them, a MacGreagor warrior quietly slipped away to notify Michael.

  CHAPTER 13

  EARLIER THAT DAY, IN the courtyard of the king’s castle in Edinburgh, Laird Kennedy and Laird Mackintosh struck a bargain – together they would collect Laird Dalldon’s daughter, take her home, and split the reward between them. What they needed now was a well-coordinated plan to take her from the MacGreagors. It was for that reason the two lairds, accompanied by their guards, rode together to a hilltop where they could quietly make their plans.

  Laird Kennedy and Laird MacKintosh were as different in appearance as night and day. The clean shaven Kennedy had blonde hair and was clearly a foot taller than the graying, long bearded MacKintosh. They were not fast friends, but each found the other tolerable and on occasion, enjoyable. Both were prone to seek the company of the king, who had the wherewithal to make good men into better and better men into great. That, of course, meant wealth and titles. Having just come from Edinburgh, both were formally dressed in their kilts and finely tailored jackets.

  “Had we not best make certain the MacGreagors have her?” MacKintosh asked, as the two stood side by side atop a hill not far from the Kennedy village, which happened to be not far from the land of the MacGreagors. Patches of forest dotted the Scottish hills and dales, and the setting sun was beginning to cast shades of purple and gold on the clouds of an approaching storm. Evening would soon turn to night and nearby, a red fox sprinted up a hill and disappeared down the other side. Few were the hilltops that allowed a glimpse into the MacGreagor glen and even then not much of it could be seen, yet this one did.

  “Swinton would know if we attacked,” Kennedy said. “Very little slips by him.”

  “But would he not stand aside if we asked him?”

  “Aye, but he is prone to return with too many questions. We must simply go in, take her, and be gone before Swinton is the wiser – if Michael truly has her.”

  Mackintosh thoughtfully rubbed the side of his graying beard. “Osgar would know where she is...if we knew where Osgar was.”

  “He is a clever lad, that one. From time to time I have wondered just how wealthy he is. There is not a laird in Scotland who has not paid Osgar Allardice for somethin’, and paid him handsomely.”

  “Save Dalldon, the way I hear it.”

  Kennedy was surprised. “Dalldon dinna pay him?”

  Mackintosh chuckled. “A lad of some substance threatened to tell the king of Dalldon’s devious dealin’s, and Osgar did away with him. By the way, Osgar is not an Allardice, he is Dalldon’s nephew.”

  “His nephew?” Kennedy gasped. “Did Dalldon not betray his own brother?”

  “Aye. Sadly, Osgar’s father came to an unfortunate end, as have several of Dalldon’s relatives, but I doubt Osgar knows of it. If he did, Dalldon would surely be in his grave by now and none deserves it more than Dalldon. I’d not mind killin’ him myself.”

  “Aye, but not until after we collect the reward. Tell me,” Kennedy asked, “How well do Osgar and the king get on?”

  “Osgar does as the king commands, just as we all do, but I know of no special favors the king has asked of him.”

  “I know of one. Osgar found a bride for the king’s cousin, and the choice pleased the king very much.”

  “A particular requirement?” MacKintosh wanted to know.

  “Aye, she was to have...” In the distance, Kennedy spotted three men coming toward them. They didn’t appear to be of any particular clan, but they did look to be coming from the MacGreagor glen. Leaving his place beside Mackintosh, Kennedy took long strides down the hill and confronted the strangers. When he came back, he had a smile on his face. “Michael has her.”

  “Did they see her?”

  “Nay, but they asked him outright and Michael dinna deny it.”

  Laird MacKintosh grinned. “Aye, Michael has her.”

  “We have no choice but to force him to give her up.”

  “When?”

  “Bring fifty of your best lads and meet me here at noon on the third day.” Mackintosh nodded, walked down the hill, mounted his horse, and let his guards escort him home.

  Still standing on the hill, Laird Kennedy looked once more at the MacGreagor glen. Never had a Kennedy laird attacked the fierce MacGreagor warriors, but he saw no other way. The king wanted Dalldon’s daughter married to the Frenchman, and Kennedy was determined to please the king.

  Once he was out of sight, MacKintosh halted his men, gave them instructions, and sent two back to keep an eye on the MacGreagor glen.

  In the opposite direction, and around a bend in the road, Laird Kennedy put his hand up to halt his men. He gave a set of instructions to three of his warriors as well. Instead of sending them to watch the MacGreagors, he sent them to watch the MacKintosh.

  WHEN SEONA ENTERED the dining room displaying her usual flair, there was no one there except Balric. “Where is everyone?”

  “I fear we must eat alone, you and I,” he answered. “Elena and the children are eating upstairs. Kester refuses to sit with you and Michael, I have been told, wishes not to be disturbed.”

  She pulled a chair out opposite Master Balric and sat down. Seona filled her plate with boiled beef, vegetables and then reached for a bun on which to spread butter. “I doubt he would mind my disturbin’ him.”

  Master Balric set his two-pronged fork on his plate and folded his arms. “You’ll not have him, you know.”

  “Have him? I know not what you mean.”

  “My dear Seona, you think yourself too clever by half, which I find quite regrettable.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Balric slowly smiled. “I suspect you know precisely what I mean. You make difficult that which might have been quite easily accomplished. Do you love Michael?”

  She continued to look confused for a moment, but it was just an act and she could tell Balric was on to her. “Nay, I dinna love him.”

  “And the others, Murran and Owen? Do you love either of them?”

  She set her fork down too and bowed her head. “Nay.”

  “Who do you love?”

  “You would think me daft if I told you.”

  Balric chuckled. “I already think you daft.”

  At that remark, she couldn’t help but smile just a little. “If you must know, I have loved Osgar all my life, but...”

  “The lad who brought you here?”

  “Aye, but ‘tis hopeless. He loves his freedom more than me.”

  “Does he know you love him?” He watched as she shook her head. “I see not how he shall marry you if you carry another lad’s child.” Balric hoped to get her to admit she was not pregnant, but she simply smiled and went back to eating her meal. There was possibly more to Seona Dalldon’s method of madness than Balric suspected, but getting it out of her was not going to be that easy. He too picked his fork back up, used his knife to cut another bite of beef, and then the two of them ate in silence for a time.

  “I wonder,” Balric said at length. “Have you heard that three lads were here lookin’ for you?”

  Seona sat up a little straighter. “Did Michael tell them I was here?”

  “Nay, he sent them away. Yet, more than just the guard at the castle door now knows that many lads seek to find you. I fear you are exposed for who you truly are.”

  “‘Tis just as well. I cannae abide pretendin’ much longer anyway.”

  “The MacGreagor edict is well known among other clans, and surely your father shall hear of it soon enough. Do you not fear what he will do when he comes to fetch you?”

  Finished with her meal, she stood up and looked Balric in the eye. “I assure you, my father shall not come.” With that, she walked out of the room, and did not bother to close the door behind her.

  Balric deeply wrinkled his brow. “That can only mean one thing. She believes he shall not live long enough to collect her.”r />
  IT WAS SO LATE WHEN Laird Uallas Ferguson got home, the servants had already been sent to their beds. He dismounted, handed his reins to a guard, and then entered his modest, but adequate three-story Keep. He was born there, shared a room with two brothers until they were grown, and remained there after he married. Laird Ferguson loved his home and his people as much as any laird could and he loved his wife even more. The bright candles in his Great Hall welcomed him, as did the sweet smell of spices coming from the kitchen. The strong aroma of cinnamon let him know the cook had baked his favorite apple pie, and he could not help licking his lips.

  Initially, after overhearing MacKintosh and Kennedy’s plot to take Dalldon’s daughter from Michael, he thought to ride straight away to the MacGreagor glen and give warning. However, he needed to think it through first. There were problems well beyond a plot to take Seona.

  “I dinna expect you back this night,” his wife of seven years said as she hurried down the stairs to greet him. She threw her arms around his neck, and received his passionate kiss. “How I do miss you each time you go away.”

  “And I you,” Ferguson said. He released her and walked to the table to pour himself a goblet of water. “My love, I am in need of your guidance.”

  “How is our beloved king?”

  “Very well.” He stopped pouring just long enough to smile at her. “He asked after you as he always does. I think he fancies you.”

  “Here’s a bit of good news. I fancy him as well.”

  Ferguson chuckled. “You fancy the gowns his wife wears more than you fancy him.”

  “I am caught, I see.” Meghan Ferguson grew up in a cottage on the edge of the village with no father and only one brother. It was Laird Ferguson of old who made certain her family had what they needed. Embarrassed by her impoverished circumstances, she was standoffish for the most part and had few friends. Therefore, when her laird’s son asked to marry her, she felt beholden and agreed, even though she hardly knew him. No one was more surprised than she when she realized she had fallen in love with him. Now, life without him would truly be no life at all. There was but one problem – she had not yet conceived the child they both so desperately wanted.

  “Do I smell apple pie?”

  She joined him at the table, pulled a plate closer, removed the cloth, and exposed half a pie. “I hoped to keep it all to myself, but alas, you have come home.”

  He pulled his wife into his lap and nuzzled her neck. “I shall order the cook to make twenty pies, if it will please you, but this one is mine!”

  She pretended to be indignant, got up, and handed him a fork. She watched him eat in silence for a few minutes and then asked, “Why do you need my council?”

  Between savored bites, he explained the problem and ended with, “The very least I can do is warn Michael.”

  “Will a warnin’ be enough though? Suppose Kennedy and MacKintosh bring many warriors? Can Michael fight them and win?”

  “Do you suggest the Fergusons stand with the MacGreagors?”

  “I do, and we should. The MacGreagors lost many lads in the war and could have simply gone home, yet they took the trouble to save three Fergusons. How can we do otherwise?”

  “I had not considered standin’ with Michael, but I see now you are right. What about offendin’ the king? He demands she be returned to her father, and if I stand with him, I shall be helpin’ Michael go against the king’s wishes.”

  “You are simply preventin’ a clan war. The Kennedys and the MacKintosh are not likely to fight if two clans stand together against them. Let Michael answer to the king.”

  As soon as her husband set his fork down, she picked it up and helped herself to a bite of pie, and remained silent while her husband decided the best course of action. Meghan was deep in thought too, and a very important thought just occurred to her. When she spoke, she absentmindedly pointed the fork at her husband. “While Robert Stuart is a new king, he is not a new Scot. If Kennedy and MacKintosh know about the MacGreagor edict, so then does he.”

  “Surely not,” he said, as he pushed her hand away before she jabbed him with the fork, “or he would have sent his men to demand Michael hand her over.”

  “You are right, the king must not know. Alas, kings these days keep themselves too sheltered from the people who could serve them best. Perhaps I might mention that when next we are in his company.” She enjoyed her husband’s grin and placed her hand lovingly over his. “I find I am quite intrigued. If Michael has her and the King learns where she is, I...”

  “You are askin’ to go with me?”

  “I am. Dalldon’s daughter is not our only reason to see the MacGreagor glen anyway, and I do so love a mystery. Would it not be splendid to see firsthand how it all works out?”

  Ferguson spread the cloth back over the last of the pie and then stood up. “We leave at sunup, but first...”

  She giggled when he took her hand and led the way up the stairs to their bedchamber.

  THAT NIGHT, SLEEP ELUDED Michael. Just as his aching foot predicted, torrential rain poured down from Heaven. He stood near a window in the north tower as he usually did in the mornings, and waited for the sun to brighten the sky. Elder Diarmad was normally the first to rise and the first to go to bed. Michael watched Diarmad put on a leather cape and then head out for his usual walk in the glen, rain or no rain. He suspected, and rightly so, the elder would spend most of the day cleaning the mud off his shoes and drying them beside the hearth in his cottage.

  Little by little, more of the clan’s inhabitants began to leave their cottages to attend the work that had to be done. Cows demanded to be milked twice a day no matter the weather and instead of walking the path to flirt with the men, the milkmaids ran to keep from getting drenched. Moreover, the young, single men hoping to gain their attention did not even bother to show up.

  Just as Ferguson had, what Michael worried about most was what the king would do, if he discovered Michael was hiding Dalldon’s daughter. Then there was the reward offered for her return, which was sure to bring all sorts of strangers to the glen. Those, he thought he could handle. Yet, if Dalldon came with his usual excessive guard, there would likely be a fight, and Michael could not be sure his men would fight to protect her – not now that they blamed her for their beloved Lindsey’s death.

  He took a deep forgotten breath and looked once more at the empty spot where Lindsey’s cottage once stood. Rain was causing the loose dirt in her fire pit to sink, so he made a mental note to have more dirt added. Kester’s cottage was gone too, but she seemed happy to be living in the castle now, although the stairs were a challenge for both her and Birdie.

  As far as Michael knew, everyone was well and safe in the MacGreagor glen. Yet, behind his every thought was Elena, the teacher, the widowed mother of two, and the most sensible woman he had ever known. He loved her, thought about her constantly, and thought she favored him, but her affection oddly and abruptly grew cold. When he asked what was amiss, she simply answered, ‘Seona.’ What that meant – he could not even guess. For days she managed to avoid him but in this weather Elena would be inside with her children, Samuel and Brenna, and hopefully he would run into her other than at meals, where there was no hope of a private conversation.

  As if to intentionally lighten his mood, a sliver of blue sky appeared on the horizon and the birds began their welcoming chirps. Not long after, the clouds began to part, letting golden streaks of sunlight illuminate sections of the distant blue and green hills. Indeed, it lightened his mood considerably, and at least there was one thing Michael could do that morning – little Brenna did not like his beard, so on this day he intended to trim it.

  THE LAST OF THE CLOUDS raced swiftly across the sky, and finally the sun began to warm the day and dry the land. Seated on a rock at the edge of the loch after his morning swim, Michael watched his reflection in the clear blue water as he carefully used a sharp dagger to trim his beard. It took considerable skill to get both sides even, and a calm h
and to keep from cutting himself, but he managed. When he was finished, he gave his face one last look in the reflection, cleaned his knife, and looked up.

  There, in the midst of the tall grass near the edge of the trees, stood the same magnificent black stallion he had seen before. It was solid black from the tip of its nose to the end of its tail, with a thick mane to match, and it appeared to be looking Michael right in the eye. It was certainly not part of the MacGreagor herd or it would have been shod. Instead, the beauty was neither brushed nor shod.

  Cautiously, Michael stood up, put his dagger back in the sheath, and took a step toward the stallion. He feared the horse would shy away, but as he moved closer and closer, it stayed. “There is an old story about a black stallion as splendid as you,” he whispered, as he slowly lifted his hand to touch the horse’s nose. “You do not fear me?” he asked, raising the tone of his voice a little. The horse twisted his head a little as if to rid itself of Michael’s touch, but it did not move away.

  “‘Twas Anna,” he muttered more to himself than to the horse, as he dared rub the side of the horse’s neck. “And I believe another...aye, another came to Neil before the MacDonald’s attacked. Have you come to take me away from all this folly?” The horse neither nodded nor shook its head, but Michael didn’t expect it to. “You would bring a handsome price at market, but I shall not capture you.” He moved his hand a little lower and rubbed the wide space between the horse’s front legs. “Nay, I shall not capture you, for there is peace in you.”

  Suddenly, the horse became uneasy, turned and headed into the trees. When Michael looked, Seona was coming up behind him. Perturbed, he turned back just in time to watch the horse disappear into the forest.

  “Michael?” she asked to get his attention.

  He barely glanced at her as he started back to the rock beside the loch to put on his shoes. “You are in need?”