Page 13 of Following Her Highland Journey (The White Witch’s Apprentices #2)

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B rendan McNair tapped his fingers on the side of his chair, listening to the words that his Serpent had brought before him. It was his favorite chair, one he had installed not long after his father's death to symbolize his new ascent as Laird of the McNair clan. It was large and intricately carved in lacquered wood, each image representing a different victory from history and Celtic mythology, every one a symbol of his power. He knew that his chair was an object of discussion amongst his underlings, that some were unsettled by its similarity to a throne.

Well, if they wanted to think of him as a king, then let them. He would be an absolute power in this part of Scotland soon enough, and he would not be ashamed to display his strength.

" With all my love, Adair, " Lyle McDonaghue finished, then shook the paper out before him. "That's all she wrote, me Laird. Clever of the lass tae write in Gaelic; I imagine it would have stopped many who would try tae read it."

Brendan nodded slowly. "She always was a clever little witch," he agreed. He would not admit that he, himself, would be one of those thwarted by the Gaelic had McDonaghue not been around to read it for him. His father had tried to teach him when he was a bairn, but he had consistently refused, seeing it as a language of the common people. Brendan had known since he was a young lad that he was always meant to be extraordinary.

His mother had told him so his whole life. His father had been a simple man, who preferred to live and let the rest of the clan operate as they pleased, so long as they did not cross any lines. He did not understand how to maximize the profit on the McNair lands, nor that he could bed as many women as he pleased, nor that sometimes active warfare was the best state for a clan to be in to keep other clans in line.

Mother had understood it. Mother had told Brendan his whole childhood that he was special, entitled to everything he wanted and more. She had paid his sister little mind, and why not? Brendan had cared for Eilidh in his own way, but she'd been too soft, too girlish, and too foolish, allowing that man to seduce her so easily and insisting on pampering that useless bastard son of hers. Father had favored Eilidh, and Mother favored Brendan, and for the most part, they'd raised each child in their own way. When Mother had died, Brendan had been stuck dealing with his father's pathetic rule until he could not take it anymore.

Well. No more. Now Brendan was in charge, and he had no intention of relinquishing his power and strength. Never again. I'll make ye proud, Mother. I'll be the man me father never was.

He turned his attention back to the Serpent, focusing on the letter now. McDonaghue was a faithful, loyal servant, and he'd spied the messenger on the path between the remains of Clan Martin and Clan McLeod. As McDonaghue had put it, he had killed the man as a precaution, which Brendan deemed quite sensible, but neither of them had expected that they would find such a gem on the body.

"How do they ken so much?" McDonaghue mused. "I thought our dealin's with McMillan were more subtle. Someone in that fool's clan has been loose with his lips. We should pay them a visit and remind them of what an alliance is supposed to mean."

Always so thirsty for blood. Brendan had no issue with that, of course, but right now he knew it was not the right move. "Ye'll do no such thing. This has turned out well for us, me friend."

The Serpent raised a dark eyebrow, his expression clouded in confusion. Brendan enjoyed this man's company for his straightforward commitment to getting the job done, but sometimes his lack of intelligence could be more than a little exhausting. "How so?"

Brendan decided to show patience and explain, even though it should have been more than obvious. "Think a little. We plan to attack McLeod, but they are strong, especially under their new leadership since that foolhardy boy was overthrown. With the information we have now, we may be able tae take over the clan without havin' tae come tae blows—and end up with their lands and all of the lands we've razed so far, unquestioned by the other clan leaders."

"How is such a thing possible?"

Tapping his fingers on the throne—the chair—again, Brendan continued. The steady drumming of his nails against the wooden arms of his seat were a comfort to him. "Lady McLeod is much loved. And, it seems, a friend of Adair's."

It was hard to believe that the person who had written this letter was the same Adair who had escaped him years before, but there was no mistaking her handwriting or the way she spoke as if she knew him. Somehow, the woman he had desired above all else had resurfaced, returning to his life when he was sure she was gone forever.

"We will lure her out," Brendan went on. "Softhearted women flock foolishly tae each other at the best of times, and I am sure that Lady McLeod with her methods of 'healin' her clan that we've all heard about is one such. And I ken Adair is another. So we will find a way tae bring Lady McLeod out somewhere that we can take her."

"And we'll kill her." The Serpent's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Tae make a point."

"No." Brendan shook his head. "She lives. Ye can hurt her, me friend, if it comes tae that. Make her beg for death, but keep her livin'. But I think it willnae get tae that point. I think if we keep her alive and unharmed, the McLeods will do anythin' tae get their precious lady back. They'll hand over whatever we want, and then McMillan will be in me debt."

McDonaghue nodded his head. "Ye're wise, me Laird."

"Obviously," Brendan agreed. "Ye can go now, Serpent. I have thinkin' tae do."

Bowing slightly, the Serpent turned and left, leaving Brendan alone with the letter. Brendan studied it, his eyes lingering on the signature at the bottom.

Adair. Brilliant, beautiful Adair, her hair like sunshine, her eyes like the forest. She would have shone beside him as his Lady, given him the strongest heirs, and been a delight to bed whenever he wished. He imagined her now, bare and submissive beneath him, and grunted as he felt his body respond.

Yes, he still wanted her, even after all this time. She had made a fool of him, and that was something he could never forgive. Perhaps, with this information, he could find her too, and bring her to heel where she belonged. She would submit to him as his wife, and accept his power over her, just as all of Scotland would accept his power.

His finger traced her name, his body still on fire from the image in his mind. Yes, he would find them, both of them.

And at last, he'd have everything he deserved.

Caiside did not know what had prompted Duncan's unexpected visit, but she was trying desperately not to think the worst. The old merchant with a bad knee had been a friend to her, to all the girls at the monastery, and though she was pleased to see him, his secrecy and insistence they talk in private filled her with unwelcome trepidation.

Once she was sure she was alone, she directed him to rest. “Sit. Ye’ve come a long way. How is Mor? How are the girls? Is the monastery still busy?”

Duncan took a deep breath. “Well, that’s why I’m here.”

Caiside’s face immediately went serious, nerves fluttering through her stomach.

Duncan caught on to her change of expression and shook his head. “The monastery and Mor…they’re fine. They have new apprentices and they’ve been tendin’ tae so many folks they’ve set up a more permanent spot in the village. This is about Adair.”

With a nod, Caiside sat down in the chair across from him, listening intently. “Adair? Is she alright?” Caiside knew that Adair had always been Duncan's favorite.

Duncan blinked at Caiside. “I’ll be honest, lass, I am not entirely sure. I had made my longer journey for the year, bein’ gone for a few months from the village near the monastery. When I returned, I ran into Fia almost immediately. She told me that Adair had left the monastery and hadn’t returned. They said she told them she was goin’ tae help out those who are sufferin', but they thought she'd be back or send word more quickly. It's been days and nothin'.”

Caiside pressed her hand to her stomach, hating the thought of anything having happened to Adair. Duncan was right, that wasn’t anything like the Adair she knew, who was always so concerned about her friends—her family. “And no one has heard from her at all?”

“I don’t think so,” Duncan said, looking down at the folded parchment in his hand. “But later that day, as I was makin’ my rounds through the village, a stranger approached. It was dark by then, and he wore a cloak with his hood up. I could tell it was a man but didn’t recognize the voice at all. He gave me this letter and said it was from Adair. He said she sent him to find me and asked that I deliver it to ye as soon as I could. He said it was vital it came tae you and no one else; not even Mor knows about it.”

Caiside reached out and took the letter from him. It was a bit dingy on the outside, but the parchment was still stiff. “Do ye know what it says?”

Duncan shook his head. “Oh no. It wasn’t meant for me. My job was tae get it tae you. Ye ken how much I adore the girls, and Adair has been me favorite fer so long now. I feel like I’ve watched her grow up. I will say, whatever it is, if ye need my help, I’m here. I may not be the youngest or in the best health, but I can handle a dagger with the best of ‘em.”

Caiside smiled sweetly at him, standing and walking over to the door, opening it up. “Thank ye, Duncan. I’ll read this and let ye know. You’ve done well, and ye deserve some food, ale, and a nice place tae sleep. Me apprentice will show ye tae the dining hall, and me staff will take good care of ye. If ye need anything, ye let me ken. I’ll make sure to join ye for dinner tonight.”

Duncan nodded, concern on his face as he clutched his hat, leaving the room with the apprentice. Caiside shut the door and walked over to the chair, sitting down. Her whole body was tight, her muscles clenched as she stared down at the folded parchment. Carefully, she unfolded the paper and opened it up, her heart fluttering nervously at Adair’s handwriting. It was rushed and sloppy, not at all like her.

As dread filled Caiside’s chest, she struggled to focus her eyes on the actual words. It was a short note, but she knew it would be important. The whole letter was written in Gaelic, and Caiside was suddenly thankful for her mother’s insistence in learning the language when she was a young girl.

Translated, it read,

Dearest Caiside,

Word spread quickly of the defeat of your brother and the new clan you’ve formed. If this letter has reached you, then you know I am not at the monastery. I have to be brief. I apologize for the lack of detail as these words must be kept from enemy eyes. I need your help. My and many others’ lives may depend on it.

I must ask you to leave your family and clan for a little while. On the next full moon, go to the North to the banks of Loch Creran. There is a village called Barcaldine. Find the place where the ships rest after long journeys, and I’ll find ye. Wear a cloak, and don’t tell anyone where you’re going.

With my love,

Adair

Caiside folded the letter, shoving it into the pocket in her skirt. She glanced around the room as if she were going to find someone hiding in the corners. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as she tried to decide what to do.

First thing was first—she needed to tell Lorcan.

"Absolutely not." Lorcan very rarely took that tone with Caiside, if ever, but there was a firmness in it now that made her shiver. It wasn't out of fear—Caiside would never fear Lorcan—but it did remind her of the strength behind his gentleness that had made him so formidable throughout his life and service to her family. "Ye cannae seriously be considerin' this."

Caiside had been expecting his objection and braced herself against it, but she still found herself growing a little annoyed nonetheless. Lorcan knew how capable she was better than anyone else in the world; her beloved husband was not like so many other men who expected their wives to be meek and submissive. He had been more than happy to follow her in her path in life rather than the other way around, and she had hoped that he would be just as happy to go along with her in this as well.

"I have tae go. If Adair needs me, there's nae way that I can possibly stay away. Ye must understand that." Caiside spoke patiently, though there was a little edge beneath the words. She needed him to understand that she was doing this no matter what. "We ken there's somethin' brewin', somethin' we need all the information we can possibly get about. Wouldnae it be better tae follow any lead?"

Lorcan ran a hand through his hair, looking troubled. "Ye're right that somethin's afoot. The raids on the small clans along the road are enough tae tell us that. But that's even more reason ye cannae go alone. This could be a trap, a ploy, anythin'. I ken ye care deeply for these lassies at the monastery, and I like them too, but ye cannae risk such a thing. Ye're the lady of this clan—God above, the Laird, in truth—and the mother tae Sorcha and Fiona, and me wife on top of all of that. Ye cannae run off alone."

Caiside nodded tiredly, because she knew there would be an argument very soon. "I ken all that, me love, I truly do. But I trust Adair, and I ken her signature—see it below!—and so I have tae go."

Lorcan grunted. "Let me come with ye, then."

But she was already shaking her head. "No. She told me tae come alone, and so I must."

"Caiside…dae ye not remember what we’ve been through already? We were torn apart once before for so long because of yer brother's tyranny. Part of meself was left behind in our journey to find each other again, both physically and in me mind. Ye changed beyond recognition—aye, in a good way, but it still wasnae easy." Lorcan clasped his hands behind his back and started pacing the room. "If ye go, what would happen if I'm right? If yer body was returned cold and dead, what would I tell our lassies? How would I rule our clan? I'm a fighter, not a leader."

Caiside moved forward and put a hand out to stop his pacing. "I willnae die. There's nae chance of that," she told him, trying to sound soothing and firm all at once. "I understand why ye're worried, I truly do, but ye shouldnae fret so. Me brother is long since gone, and this new threat of McNair doesnae threaten us directly—and besides, we have the strength of McMillan behind us, uneasy as the truce may be. McNair wouldnae dare hurt me under those circumstances. And what reason would he have tae do so, anyway?"

Lorcan did not look convinced.

She pushed forward. "Nothin' will happen tae me, but even if it did—even if it did —why dae ye doubt yerself so? Our daughters adore ye, and ye'll be the finest father in the world, with or without me. Ye're more of a leader than ye ken."

"Caiside…"

She shook her head, and stood on her tiptoes, gently kissing him once on the lips and then on the cheek. "I have some days tae prepare, but I will be goin', nae matter the outcome of this discussion. Ye understand that, aye?"

He sighed and turned toward her, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her close, their faces only a little apart. "And what if I tried tae forbid ye?" he asked.

Caiside chuckled, his closeness still making her heart race even after all these years. She wriggled to reposition herself a little, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'd like tae see ye try," she teased. "Would ye have me be a timid little wifie who does what she's told after all this time?"

His other hand curled into her hair, and their bodies pressed against each other. "Ye're a menace, ye ken that?" he asked. His eyes stared into hers, and then he said, "If I cannae change yer mind, then at least promise me ye'll be careful."

"Always," she replied. Then their lips met, and there was no more talking needed between them.