Page 21 of Desiring the Highland Laird (Highland Destiny #1)

T hey hurried back to Dundale. As they galloped through the portcullis, she spied Malcolm and Hamish in the yard sparring.

Callum brought his mount to a quick stop and shouted for the stable hand who ran up to take the reins from him.

Before she could dismount, he was at her side, lifting his arms up to her.

She slid out of the saddle, grateful for his strength.

Taking her by the hand, he rounded the horses and charged toward Hamish and Malcolm.

“Riders approach,” he said.

They stopped what they were doing. Hamish turned to look at Callum. “Riders?”

“At least a dozen or so,” Callum said.

“Headed here?” Malcolm asked.

“I dinnae like the looks of them,” Callum said.

There was a heartbeat of silence, then Hamish shouted, “Close the gates!”

Callum turned to her then, grasping her by the shoulders. “Go inside and find Roslyn. Stay with her until I come for ye. Do ye understand?”

“What’s happening?” she asked, trying to squelch the terror that shifted through her.

“I dinnae ken. But I dinnae want ye in harm’s way. Go, now, lass.”

“But, Callum—”

“Go.” He turned her toward the door and gave her a gentle nudge.

Evie did what she was told and hurried into the keep, closing the door behind her.

She paused there, wondering what was going to happen to him, his father, and brother.

Something told her the riders approaching were not friendly and the three of them intended to face them in whatever capacity they needed.

She hurried through the keep to find Roslyn. She was in the kitchen preparing the evening meal by kneading bread. Flour was smudged across the front of her gown. She glanced up when Evie entered.

“Ah, lass, there ye are. Did ye have a nice ride with Callum?”

Evie rushed over to her. “I did but…Roslyn, something is happening.”

Sensing her near panic, she put aside the dough and reached for a kitchen towel, wiping her hands on it. “What is it, lass?”

“There are men approaching on horseback. Callum told me to find you and stay inside the keep.” She took several steps toward the woman, reaching for her and grasping her by the arm. “It’s something bad, isn’t it?”

The woman’s face drained of color as she pressed her lips together into a thin line. Then she reached for Evie’s hands, squeezing them in hers.

“Everything will be all right, lass. Dougal!”

The man came from a back room. He was the same man Evie had seen when she first woke in Callum’s bed. “What is it now, woman?” When he saw the two of them standing together, he halted. “What is it?”

“Riders,” Roslyn said. She jerked her head toward the front of the keep. “Best go see.”

He said nothing as he hurried by her. Roslyn grasped her by the hand and pulled her deep into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Evie demanded.

“If it’s what I think, they’ll be fighting before too long.”

“Fighting? Who?” Alarm bells went through her.

Roslyn tugged her toward a set of stairs off the kitchen that led down.

They headed toward a room at the bottom where she pushed open a door and led her inside.

It was well stocked with sacks of flour, oats, rye, and other grains on one side.

On the other, dried beans, peas, and lentils, as well as salted and cured meats.

There were oak barrels she assumed contained their favorite ale.

She spied large wheels of hard cheese and one area reserved for herbs and spices.

“We’ll wait here in the larder,” Roslyn said as she closed the door behind her, plunging them into cool darkness.

“Here?” Her voice quivered. She was unsure what to make of that.

She struck a match and lit a couple of candles. It didn’t do much to illuminate the room, but at least they weren’t in total darkness.

“The men will be fine,” she added. “Dougal will come for us when we can leave.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening.” Evie clutched her elbows to ward off the impending chill.

Worry flickered through the older woman’s eyes. “If the riders are who I think, then it’s a long-standing feud between the clans.”

Evie didn’t like where this was going. “Between which clans?”

“The MacLeods and the MacDonalds.” She said it matter-of-factly.

The blood whooshed out of her head, making her see black pinpricks dotting her vision. Her knees gave out. She faltered but leaned against one of the large wooden barrels as she pressed a hand to her head.

“The MacDonalds,” she repeated.

An image of Bruce MacDonald chasing her up the stairs exploded in her mind. Were they Bruce’s ancestors come to fight Callum and his brother and father? And if so, why?

“Are ye all right, lass? Let me fetch you something to drink.” She started for the door.

But Evie stopped her, fear skipping through her. If they were hiding in the larder, it was for a good reason.

“No, I’m fine. I wasn’t expecting to hear the name MacDonald.” She rubbed her forehead, getting her emotions in check, and lifted her head to look at the woman standing across from her. Candlelight flickered over the other woman’s face. “Why are they feuding?”

“Well, ’tis a long story, that,” she said. She found her own barrel to lean against. She expelled a sigh. “Ye’ve no met the younger lad, Jamie MacLeod, have ye?”

She shook her head.

“The boy is a rogue at best.” She harumphed as if she were disappointed in the younger MacLeod.

He must have done something to earn the older woman’s ire, but Evie couldn’t imagine what. She waited while Roslyn collected her thoughts. She heaved another sigh.

“It started over a year ago when wee Jamie was offered the hand of Margaret MacDonald in an attempt to make peace between the two clans,” she said. “They were to be handfasted. Do ye ken what that is?”

When Evie shook her head, she continued.

“They were to live together for a year and a day. And if she produced a child from the arrangement, then they would be married forever. But no child was born within the year and a day and Jamie cast her out. He returned her to her kin. Well, that dinnae bode well for the MacLeod boy. It did nothing but fuel the fight between the two clans. It was an insult, ye ken.”

“I see,” she said, slowly, as dawning came. This must be the scandal Roslyn mentioned her first day here.

“When Margaret was returned, the MacDonald took no kindly to it. It was why wee Jamie was sent away to visit his uncle and travel with him.”

“So, you think they’ve come to continue the fight?” Evie asked.

“I ken they do,” she said. “And we are to stay here out of sight until it’s all over.”

“Here,” Evie said. “In the larder.”

“Aye.”

They lapsed into silence. There was no sense in asking any more questions.

Even though she wanted to ask what happened if all the MacLeod men were killed, she didn’t think she would like that answer so she kept her mouth shut and clasped her hands together in her lap.

Worry for Callum, his brother and father, gnawed at her.

If they didn’t win this fight, then what would happen to her?

Terrible things came to mind and she wasn’t interested in any of them happening to her.

But she also had a difficult time believing that the fight continued over a woman.

Things were different in the fourteenth century. She had to remember that. This was not modern America. This was practically the dark ages.

How much time passed as they waited in near darkness for Dougal to return?

There was a swift knock at the door followed by its opening. Roslyn got to her feet and reached for Evie, taking her hands in hers once again and squeezing. Every muscle in the woman’s body was tense. She clung to the woman, too, as fear gripped her. Moments later, Dougal pushed the door wide.

His face was streaked with mud and blood. His hair was a tangled mess. His clothes were soiled with more blood and dirt. Roslyn gasped. Evie gaped.

“There ye are, wife. Bring clean cloth and boil some water. The laird is hurt.”

“Hamish?” Evie asked, his name slipping out in a whisper.

Roslyn didn’t respond as she sprang into action. Dougal disappeared back up the stairs in a hurry. They followed.

“Is he going to be all right?” It was a silly question. Roslyn would have no idea if he was or not.

And now Evie worried about Callum. And Malcolm, too, but mostly Callum.

“I dinnae ken. Help me, lass.” In the kitchen, she took a dish towel and began ripping it into long strips. She shoved the pieces into Evie’s hands as she snatched a kettle from the fire. “I already had water boiling.”

She hurried out of the kitchen. When Evie didn’t follow, she turned to look at her over her shoulder. “Come. We must see to the laird.”

But Evie didn’t want to. She stood there a long moment, paralyzed by her own fear and the dread coiling through her. When Roslyn waved for her to follow, she made her feet move. But she was not looking forward to seeing a bleeding, injured man.