Page 16 of Cottage in the Mist (Time After Time #3)

"Aye. Alec and I are of an age. And like me, he was fostered out early on.

" Again, Bram felt a surge of loss, remembering.

His father had sent him to foster first at Dunmaglass only months after his mother had died and then at Moy.

In all those years, he'd only been allowed the occasional visit home.

Until several months ago, when his father had sent for him, wanting at long last to acknowledge his heir.

He blew out a breath, gathering his thoughts. "My father never mentioned a specific problem with Alec to me. But that does no' mean that Alec hadn't an interest in my father's lands."

"But he didn't take them. Which suggests some other motive. Perhaps something happened between the two of them. You said your father called you back to Dunbrae," Iain said. "Perhaps that's why?"

"Nay." Bram shook his head. "My father called me home because he wasna well and knew that it was time for me to take over as laird. There was no talk of Alec or his holding."

"If there was no quarrel with Tigh an Droma ," Iain posited, "then why would the Comyns attack? According to my uncle, Alec Comyn denies it."

"I dinna doubt that Alec would lie. And in truth there doesna have to be a reason except that we are Macgillivrays and they are Comyns," Bram said with a shrug.

But Iain frowned. "There must be something more. Something I'm missing?"

"A blood feud," Ranald said, leaning forward, he and Bram exchanging glances. "A very old blood feud."

"But you said your father didn't care about the past."

"Aye, but I do. For all practical purposes, I was raised at Dunmaglass, you ken.

And there the memory stretches back much farther.

Back to the atrocities that were committed against the Macgillivrays at the hands of the Comyns.

I learnt the story when I was but a wee boy, but I carry it here"—He pounded his chest—"in my heart. "

"And you think that Alec does as well?"

"I dinna know. But if he knew that I was coming back to take over, perhaps he worried that I wouldna be as forgiving as my father. Were it not for the Comyns, our clan wouldna have fallen so far."

"But just as my people do, yours belong to Clan Chattan," Iain said. "There is nothing more powerful."

"Aye, but unlike the Mackintoshes, the Macgillivrays are nothing more than a sept. An afterthought. Once we were among the greatest clans in all of the Highlands. Until a woman brought us to our knees and destroyed us."

"I dinna ken." Iain shook his head, still frowning.

"'Tis an old tale." Ranald shrugged. "I heard the story as a child as well. Perhaps because the Macqueens and the Macgillivrays have so long been associated."

"It was when David was king. When the clans were above all," Bram began.

"And the Macgillivrays were second to none and fierce rivals of the Comyns.

The two clans dinna mix except in battle.

But as is the way with such things, my kinsman Graeme fell in love with a Comyn woman.

Tyra was her name. A real beauty, so the story goes.

They met in secret, each time with him falling more in love and her wrapping him around her little finger, until she gave him the news that she was with child. "

He paused, his mind recalling the story he'd heard so very many times.

"Graeme was o'erjoyed with the idea of becoming a father.

And immediately asked for her hand. Tyra agreed, and Graeme went home to prepare the way with his father.

Eventually, after much argument, Graeme's father, Naill, agreed to the marriage, for there was no turning his son's devotion aside.

And the Macgillivrays issued an invitation to the Comyns. A meeting to seal the betrothal."

"I think I remember this story after all," Iain said, eyes narrowed in thought. "I'd just forgotten the clans that were involved in it. The Comyns, the girl and her family, came to the Macgillivray holding."

"Aye, and the Comyns, because of Graeme's love for Tyra, were welcomed into the Macgillivrays' tower.

They all gathered in the great hall to break bread and celebrate the union of the clans.

Only there was to be no union. The entire affair had been a ploy.

A way to gain access into an enemy's stronghold.

" Bram paused, feeling the betrayal as if it were his own.

"The Comyns attacked. And the unsuspecting Macgillivrays were slaughtered.

Graeme was among the first to die. In some tellings it was Tyra herself who did it.

Naill managed to escape, but not before watching his son and most of his clansmen die.

"Naill, it is said, went mad from grief, and without a laird, the clan foundered, split into septs and were thrown to the wind. And all of it because of Comyn treachery."

"Still, it was a long time ago," Ranald cautioned.

"Aye, but the hatred is still there. It was drilled into me at Dunmaglass. Comyns are and always will be the enemy. There can be no peace. And if Alec heard much the same, then perhaps as I said, he came back to Tigh an Droma with the intention of removing the threat Dunbrae posed."

"That's a lot of supposition," Iain said. "But a blood feud is no' something to take lightly. And just because your fathers dinna actively engage in it, doesna mean that Alec wouldn't take an opportunity when it was given to him."

"You're talking about the traitor."

"Aye. That I am. Did your father have enemies among his clansmen?"

"'Tis possible. But I know that at least some of his men were loyal." He thought of Frazier and Robby, his heart aching at the thought that his friend and the older man were dead. "In truth, my father wasn't an easy man to love," Bram said.

"Maybe not—" Ranald reached over to touch the silver pin, lying on the table. "—but Auntie Aileen loved him more than anything. I remember my mother talking about it after she died. Worrying that Seamus would no' recover."

"She was right," Bram sighed. "He was never the same."

"But he loved you," Katherine said, appearing in the doorway, the candlelight making her hair glisten gold.

"I dinna think he loved any but my mother," Bram said, watching as she crossed the room to sit by Iain. There was empathy in her eyes. And kindness.

"Sometimes, a man gets lost in a woman. So much so that he can't see anything else." Katherine shrugged, laying her small hand on top of Iain's. "But that doesn't mean that he doesn't care. Only that he can't find the way to show it."

There was right in what she said. Bram was certain of it. His father had cared for him in his own way. But still he mourned what could have been. And what, now, could never be.

"The danger has passed. You should be sleeping." Iain's tone was brusque, but his eyes lingered on the soft curves of his wife's face.

"I couldn't. Not when I knew you were down here, worrying. Besides, it's almost morning." She nodded toward the window, where the first pink fingers of dawn were splitting the sky.

Another woman, older but with an equally concerned expression, walked into the room carrying a large tray.

"I asked Flora to bring you something to eat. I know it isn't much." She smiled as the older woman set the tray of meat pies and ale on the table and retreated. "But we wanted to do something." She rose and started to leave, but Iain held onto her hand.

"Dinna go. I have need of you here."

Bram watched as she sat again, her fingers still entwined with his.

This was what he longed for. Someone to share his life with.

Someone to love. Lily's face sprang unbidden into his mind.

Her wide green eyes and soft dark hair. But as soon as he had the thought he pushed it away.

Their love was an impossibility. Separated by centuries.

He looked again at Iain and Katherine, and shook his head. God's honest truth was that even if she were here, he had nothing to offer her.

Nothing at all.