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21: HIGHLAND JUSTICE

“IT’S GOOD TO see ye, brother … Dun Ugadale hasn’t been the same since ye left,” Kerr Mackay said quietly.

Although she was still seated behind Lennox, Davina sensed his smile.

“Aye, no doubt things here have been dull without me around.”

Riding alongside him, Kerr’s mouth lifted at the corners.

He’d flashed Lennox a wide grin earlier, upon recognizing him, yet his handsome face had returned to its former serious expression now.

He appeared to be a man who gave up his smiles grudgingly.

Feeling her gaze upon him, Kerr glanced at Davina.

“I’m sorry ye had to see that, Lady Davina,” he muttered.

“It was a nasty scene … but unfortunately, there have been many of them, of late.”

“Don’t mind me,” she replied.

“I’ve witnessed worse.”

Kerr’s blue eyes, similar to Lennox’s, although perhaps a shade or two lighter, widened.

“Aye, it’s been an eventful ride south,” Lennox admitted with a sigh.

“And I shall tell ye all once we get home.”

Davina’s gaze shifted beyond his shoulder to where the high dark-grey walls of Dun Ugadale rose against a cornflower-blue sky.

Home was before them now.

Her pulse quickened at the sight of the broch and the weathered walls, encrusted with lichen and moss, that wrapped around it.

Dun Ugadale looked ancient, as if part of it had been built by those who’d lived here long before the Mackays.

A hamlet lay below the broch, small stone bothies nestled amongst the patchwork of tilled fields, and the peaked roof of a kirk speared the sky.

Davina’s mouth curved.

During the journey south, Lennox had told her of his home.

He’d been a little embarrassed, as if worried she’d find it humble in comparison to Kilchurn Castle—but she didn’t.

Aye, it was considerably smaller, but there was something welcoming about it.

“I can tell there is quite a tale behind yer sudden appearance,” Kerr said, eyeing his brother once more.

“Ye haven’t brought trouble our way, have ye?”

Davina stiffened.

She knew he likely wasn’t referring to her, and yet guilt constricted her chest. She hoped Kerr’s words weren’t prophetic.

They inched closer to the causeway that led up to the gates, the road wending through fields where cottars stopped work to gawk at them.

Of course, it wasn’t Lennox and Davina that drew their attention but the men who walked, hands bound in front of them, at the rear of the Dun Ugadale Guards.

The muttering started, and the cottars exchanged glances.

Some of their responses appeared gloating while others were panicked.

It occurred to Davina that even in this village, outside the walls of the broch, loyalties were divided.

Tension rippled through the warm afternoon air.

They’d almost reached the causeway when a young woman approached them.

She’d sprinted along the path wending between the fields, holding her skirts up to keep from tripping, her curly brown hair flying behind her.

“Da!” she shouted. “What have ye done!”

Davina twisted in the saddle to see the big, belligerent man stumble, his heavy brow furrowing.

“Get back, lass.”

Ignoring him, she closed the distance between them.

Meanwhile, Kerr and his men drew up their horses, watching her approach.

Breathing hard, the woman came to a halt on the roadside.

Even from a few yards distant, Davina could see that she was incensed.

Her pine-green eyes burned, and a nerve jumped in her cheek.

She was tall and well-built, and her impressive bosom heaved as she glared at her father.

MacAlister remained mutinously silent.

Frowning, the young woman shifted her ire upon the Captain of the Guard.

“If my father won’t tell me what he’s done, ye must.”

Kerr stared her down, his jaw tightening.

“He was caught cattle rustling … again.”

Her spine snapped straight, and she put her hands on her hips.

“I don’t believe ye.”

“I’m sorry, Rose, but we caught him and his friends red-handed this time.”

The lass scowled at Kerr before her gaze cut to her father.

“Why?” she gasped.

“Stay out of this,” MacAlister growled.

“If ye want to make yerself useful, return home and tell yer brothers what has happened.”

She glared back at him, still standing her ground.

“Where are they taking ye?”

“Before the chieftain,” Kerr replied, his tone inscrutable.

“He will decide what their punishment will be.”

“He’ll take off their right hands!” One of the farmers in the field behind her called out.

“And about time too … I told ye this day would come, Graham MacAlister! That’ll teach ye to steal my cousin’s cattle.”

“Shut yer gob, Aonghus!” MacAlister bawled back, spittle flying.

“They were grazing on my turf … and that makes them—”

“It’s not yer turf,” Kerr interrupted him, his tone icy.

“Ye are a tenant on Mackay land, MacAlister. Ye clearly need reminding of some facts.”

“Don’t ye touch him!” Rose MacAlister stepped forward, her face flushed, her eyes glittering.

“Or what?” Aonghus jeered from behind her.

“Ye shall put a curse upon him … ye aren’t taking after yer witchy aunt, are ye?”

Some of the cottars working in the field behind them guffawed at this.

The lass’s cheeks flushed red.

Yet she ignored the heckling.

Her gaze fused with Kerr’s, yet neither of them backed down.

“Yer father’s fate isn’t up to me,” he said finally, his tone brusque.

Kerr then nodded to the other guards.

“Let’s go.”

They rode up the causeway and into the broch, under the iron maw of the portcullis.

And as they went, Rose’s angry voice followed them.

Her shouts turned to pleas when they stopped inside the barmkin.

Watching her, Davina’s belly clenched.

The lass was desperate now, tears glittering in her green eyes; Davina wished she could help.

“Take Rose back to her brothers,” Kerr instructed two of his men gruffly.

“She doesn’t need to see this.”

“No!” The young woman tried to duck away as the husky warriors closed in on her.

Yet they cornered her easily, each taking an arm and towing her toward the gate.

Rose’s cries echoed off stone as they departed.

A heavy silence followed.

Not even the clang of iron from the smith’s forge shattered it, for the blacksmith himself—a tall man with short brown hair and a scowling face—had emerged to see what the fuss was about.

His gaze swept the crowd before it alighted on Lennox.

In an instant, his expression changed.

“Len!”

Lennox threw his leg over the front of his saddle and slid lightly down onto the ground.

A couple of strides brought the two men together, and they hugged.

Warmth filtered over Davina as she realized this must be Brodie—the youngest of the Mackay brothers, the one who didn’t share the same mother.

“I don’t believe it.” Another male voice boomed across the barmkin, and Davina’s gaze cut to where a tall man with long white-blond hair stood on the steps, a red-haired beauty by his side.

“Ye’ve come home.”

Iver Mackay was grinning.

Drawing back from Brodie, Lennox turned to face the laird of Dun Ugadale.

His mouth quirked, even if his gaze remained wary.

“Aye, brother. Am I welcome?”

Iver’s smile faded, and he made his way down the steps toward Lennox.

He approached him, halting when they stood just a few yards apart.

“Didn’t I tell ye that ye’d always have a home here?”

“Aye,” Lennox replied, “but the passing of the months can change a man’s mind.”

Their gazes met and held, and then Iver’s mouth curved once more.

“Well, my words still stand. It’s good to see ye, Len.”

“And ye,” Lennox answered, his voice roughening slightly.

The Mackay chieftain’s gaze shifted then, settling upon where Davina still perched in the saddle.

“Lady Davina,” he greeted her before favoring her with a respectful nod.

“What brings ye to Dun Ugadale?”

Davina sucked in a deep breath, readying herself to answer.

Lennox beat her to it.

“The lady has fallen upon difficult times, brother … and wishes to receive sanctuary within these walls.” He halted then, waiting as Iver focused on him once more.

“I told her that ye would give her what she seeks.”

Iver’s brow furrowed, his gaze flicking between Lennox and Davina.

Davina’s stomach had now tied itself in knots.

Although she understood why Lennox had spoken on her behalf, she was irritated he hadn’t let her make the request. Nonetheless, the look on the laird’s face didn’t bode well.

“We shall speak further indoors,” Iver said eventually.

“For the moment, why don’t ye hand yer horse over to one of the lads, and retire to my solar … I shall join ye shortly.” His attention slid away then, to the group of men standing behind them, hands bound, and then to Kerr.

His gaze hardened. “Ye found them then?”

Kerr nodded.

“Graham MacAlister is their leader.”

Iver’s brows drew together as he focused on the glowering farmer.

He then huffed a deep, weary sigh.

“Ye recall what I said to ye the last time, Graham?” he asked, his voice filtering over the silent barmkin.

MacAlister’s thick lips flattened, and he gave a jerky nod.

The hardness in the laird’s eyes spread to the rest of his face.

He then glanced over at Davina.

“I invite ye to go inside, Lady Davina … Bonnie will escort ye.”

Realizing that the scene was about to get ugly, Davina nodded.

Lennox stepped forward then, helping her down from the saddle.

However, he didn’t join her as she walked toward the steps where Bonnie Mackay waited.

Iver’s wife flashed her a warm smile, even if her sea-green eyes were troubled.

Queasiness rolled over Davina as she imagined what would happen once she and Bonnie had departed.

Justice in the Highlands could be swift and harsh—she’d seen her father deal with thieves in the past.

It wasn’t a scene she needed to witness again.

Instead, she focused on the woman she hadn’t seen for over five months.

Bonnie had blossomed in her new life.

She stood taller, prouder, her fiery hair tamed into an elaborate braid that hung between her shoulder blades.

She wore a fine emerald-green surcote with a pea-green kirtle underneath.

The women’s gazes met, and Bonnie’s mouth tugged into a warm smile.

Davina smiled back, the cares that dogged her steps momentarily lifting.

Aye, it was good to see Bonnie again.

Lady Mackay held out an arm to her.

Gratefully, Davina took it, and together, they walked into the broch.