Page 30 of Bride of the Wicked Laird (Sparks and Tartans: The MacKinnon Clan’s Romance #11)

CHAPTER THIRTY

D avina was dazed, her mind a muddle of past hurts and pain and present joys. It was all a wonder to her that she was still on her feet. Everard’s grip on her arm was both a comfort and a reassurance. It meant that she was real after all, and that she was still connected to the familiar world around her.

It seemed almost impossible that she should be claimed as a daughter by a tall stranger who had loved her mother. That her life had resulted from an eternal passion was almost heartbreaking to bear. This man, Dùghall MacKinnon, had loved her mother, and from that love she had been born.

Studying him, he seemed altogether familiar. Not simply because she had met him before, a fleeting connection in the village at Castle Bay. She’d dreamed him all her life. A father who would love and protect her.

Without another moment’s thought she shrugged away the idea that Murchadh MacKinnon was her father and grasped with both hands the notion that this man, who somehow held her likeness in his face, was truly the father she’d always longed for.

She loosened her grip on Everard’s hand and turned to her father, a smile dawning on her face. She basked in the knowledge that this man who had loved her and looked for her, without knowing her at all, was her true father. The cruel man who had tormented her childhood and wished to end her life, was naught but a terrible nightmare.

Standing before her, torrents of tears streaming down his cheeks, Dùghall opened his arms wide. “I am bursting with joy tae have found the daughter I believed lost tae me forever.”

Davina took a halting step toward him and he reached out, clasping her to his heart, his arms enfolding her in the warmth of his loving embrace.

“Och, lass, ye havenae idea how it warms me tae hold ye like this.”

She looked up beaming. “We have so much time tae make up, Faither .”

Dùghall addressed Everard. “I have a great deal tae thank ye fer, Laird Everard.”

“Caring fer yer daughter is the greatest happiness of me life. I dae regret that ye were nae with us tae bear witness tae our handfasting.”

Dùghall was smiling. “Ye’re handfasted?”

“Aye. Through fear of Murchadh MacKinnon and without kenning who he faither was, the MacNeil Clan Council were loathe tae give their permission fer us tae wed before a priest in the chapel.”

“So ye’ve defied the Council by handfasting instead.”

Everard gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “’Tis me hope Murchadh will think twice afore he attacks me wife. Despite their misgivings, there is nay doubt in me mind that he will bring clan war on all our heads if he attempts tae harm her now, as he did a few days ago.” And Everard proceeded to tell the laird all that has passed recently.

“And now ye are allied with the MacKinnons of Pabhay, who will join ye at a moment’s notice should such a thing occur.”

“I believe that with ye beside me, the Council can be persuaded tae change their minds and grant their approval and blessing tae our marriage. It will take place in the chapel with a priest attending.” He turned to face Dùghall, his hand to his heart. “This is the moment when I ask yer permission tae wed yer daughter.”

“I shall be proud tae call ye son, Laird Everard. Ye have me permission and me blessing as her true faither and I grant ye permission tae wed me fair daughter, Davina.” He placed a hand on Everard’s shoulder. “I will dae everything in me power tae persuade the members of yer Clan Council tae also grant permission.”

“I wish tae invite ye tae remain at Kiessimul with us fer as long as ye wish tae gain some of the time ye need tae acquaint yerself wi’ Davina.”

Dùghall dipped his head. “I thank ye fer yer offer of hospitality. It will give me great pleasure tae spend time wi’ ye both before I return tae me duties at Pabhay. I trust that ye will both soon visit me island home.”

Everard rang the bell and shortly after, Mildred appeared. She glanced at Dùghall, a curious light in her eyes.

“We have a guest, Mildred. The Laird Dùghall MacKinnon will be in our company before he returns tae his home on the Isle of Pabhay. I wish ye tae prepare a bedchamber fer his use.” A grin spread across his features. “Laird Dùghall is me faither-in-law.”

Mildred’s eyes opened wide in surprise and she glanced from Dùghall to a smiling Davina. She bobbed a curtsy. “I am honored tae meet ye, me laird. I shall instruct the chambermaids tae prepare yer chamber at once.” She looked over at Everard. “I’ll request the kitchen tae provide nourishment fer ye and yer guest, as well as War Chief Maxwell and his lady. Dae ye wish it served here, in the solar, or in the hall?”

“We will dine here, thank ye Mildred. Mayhap ye could send a message tae me braither and Aileen that we will shortly be eating here and that I wish them tae join us.” He winked at her. “Mayhap say naught tae them about Laird Dùghall’s presence. I wish tae surprise them.”

A few minutes later, they rose to their feet as Aileen and Maxwell entered. He grinned at Everard, tilting his head, a hint of puzzlement in his eyes at the sight of the stranger.

Stepping forward Davina took Dùghall’s hand in hers.

“Faither, I wish ye tae meet me braither-in-law, Maxwell MacNeil, War Chief of Clan MacNeil, and his lady, Aileen MacNeil.”

She turned to Maxwell and Aileen who were standing frozen, looks of astonishment on both their faces.

“Maxwell and Aileen, I would like ye tae meet me faither. The Laird Dùghall MacKinnon of Pabhay.”

Maxwell, overcoming his surprise and smiling broadly, stepped forward and proffered his hand to shake Dùghall’s.

“This is a sudden pleasure,” he said. “We’ve been searching fer ye fer some time.”

“And I’ve been searching too.” Dùghall said, with a small laugh. “And now I have found me daughter and discovered a new family here at Kiessimul, the Clan MacNeil.”

Everard brought forward more chairs and they all sat, Maxwell eager to hear how Dùghall had found his way to the castle.

Davina sat quietly, absorbing the pleasure of being in the company of her father. The more he spoke the more she recognized herself in his mannerisms and his way of catching himself when he was about to say something that may be too blunt, and reshaping the words to be softer.

But he had no soft words when it came to speaking of Murchadh MacKinnon, his distant kin. “I wouldnae spare the man if he came within me reach. His crimes against Davina and her mother are heinous.”

“He is beyond the reach of the law,” Everard said, cursing under his breath. Davina was well aware that he shared Dùghall’s sentiments where Murchadh was concerned.

They ate and drank, exchanging stories, well into the afternoon, until Maxwell raised a hand. “I fear I must withdraw from this pleasant meeting.” He turned to Everard. “If there’s time while Laird Dùghall is with ye, mayhap the three of ye could pay us a visit.”

Aileen and Everard also rose. “I am tae take me braither and sister across tae Castlebay as their wee boat is up on the slipway fer some small repairs.” He looked to Davina. “I will be gone only a short time. I hope ye will enjoy spending more time wi’ yer faither.”

She laughed. Hearing the word “father” flowing so readily from Everard’s tongue. She was almost becoming used to the idea that this tall, dignified and good-natured man was her real father. Despite all the sadness that had gone before, it warmed her heart to know that her mother had been adored and never forgotten, as for years it had greatly saddened her to believe that her mother had only known the cruelty of Murchadh.

“I am happy tae spend the rest of the day in the company of me faither. It is a rare pleasure, but one that I hope tae repeat often.”

Once the three had left the solar, Dùghall, leaned back in his chair, a contented smile lighting up his face. “Well, me sweet daughter, I wish tae hear of what pleases and displeases ye, and how it was that ye came tae Kiessimul and fell in love.”

Davina began her tale with her misery at the Priory and her daring escape. But before she’d progressed far with the story, the door to the solar was unceremoniously flung open and one of the younger maids stood there, eyes wide, her features twisted in an anxious smile.

“Forgive me fer intruding me lady.”

Davina looked up, startled by the sudden intrusion. “Excuse me,” she said to her father as she rose and hurried across to the door, her heart sinking. It was unusual for a maid to intrude like that, so something must be urgent. Her thoughts immediately rushed to Everard. Mayhap he’d met with an accident on his way back from Castlebay.

“What is it lass?”

The maid could hardly get the words out for stammering and clearing her throat, but finally they emerged.

“It’s yer wee cat, Feather.”

At first, relief flooded Davina. It was not Everard, nor was it Aileen or Maxwell. It was Feather. Then her heart jolted. “What has happened?”

“Ailis said tae tell ye she’s gone missing. At first Ailis thought she’d gone tae yer cottage, looking fer ye. But we’ve searched and she’s nay there. Mayhap she will come tae yer call.” She curtsied and scurried off down the passage before Davina had a chance to ask any further questions.

She couldn’t bear to think of poor wee Feather alone in the dark. She turned to Dùghall seated in the chair by the fire with his dram. “Dinnae fash. I’ll be gone a short time. I’m sure me kitty will come when she hears me calling.”

He rose to his feet. “D’ye wish me tae come wi’ ye?”

“Nay, stay here. Keep warm and finish yer dram. I’ll return in a trice.”

Not bothering to fling on her cloak she hurried out. Lifting her skirts, she scampered down the corridor her only thoughts on finding Feather, fearful that something bad may have happened to her. She’d heard of owls swooping and taking wee animals like her. She groaned aloud at the thought, urging her legs to move faster.

It was dark in the courtyard and she cursed herself for not having stopped to light a torch, yet if Feather was anywhere near, she would surely come to the sound of Davina’s voice. Calling “Feather, puss, puss,” she circled the gardens. Stopping to listen in case there was an answering meow. Hearing nothing, she pressed on.

Surely Feather would not have strayed as far as the gate?

Davina hurried across to the gate which, to her astonishment, she found wide open. Looking out she expected to see Ranald Dunbar or his guards nearby, but the place was deserted. She stepped through the gate, her heartbeat hitching faster. Something was wrong. Where were the men?

“Feather?” she called.

And, finally, then came an answering meow from the direction of the slipway. There, at least, was a single torch lighting the way. Girding up her skirts, Davina rushed through the gate and along the path to the slipway. The meows were louder and more urgent, as if something was causing Feather pain.

On reaching the slipway she was horrified to make out the figure of a man in the dim light. He was holding something in his hand, suspended over the water at the edge of the jetty.

“Feather!”

Davina screamed and rushed toward the man, he turned, flinging Feather over the slipway. Fortunately, she did not end up submerged, but landed on the edge of on the boards, half in the water. She clung on tightly, meowing loudly.

As Davina hauled the tiny scrap to safety, the man grabbed her, his rough hand covering her mouth.

She struggled to free herself, biting down hard on his finger and at the same time letting out a series of loud, high-pitched scream that took every scrap of air in her lungs. Grunting in pain, the man slapped her face, hard, sending her reeling back.

“That’s enough from ye.”

He shoved her toward a dinghy where another man waited, oars in his hand, and while she struggled, kicking out, landing a blow to his shin, the man’s grip tightened and he flung her roughly into the small boat. He seized a length of cloth and wound it across her face while the waiting man passed him a length of twine. She struck out at him wildly, but he brushed her aside as if she was nothing more than an annoying insect. Within moments he had secured her hands, while the other man plied his oars, taking them into the bay.

To her horror, despite the darkness, she made out the shape of a birlinn waiting in offshore waters.

She knew that vessel. They were taking her to Murchadh MacKinnon’s ship.