Page 10 of The Highlander’s Fallen Angel (Brotherhood of Solway Moss #2)

“Oaths are but words, and words are but wind.”

Samuel Butler – British poet, 1835–1902

Kenan watched the faces of the MacNicol people who’d followed them into Scorrybreac Tower. Henry Macqueen looked an age to be Tierney’s father, with a bald head framed by gray, thinning hair that he kept trimmed and a white beard that came to a point. He was soft around the middle, but a few scars on his cheek and hairline spoke of battle in his youth.

The relief on Henry’s face slid off as his brows pinched. “Not wed? But—”

“Kenan said as much to distract Ranulf and retrieve Maggie,” she said. “And it worked.”

“But…word will get back to the Matheson Clan that ye lied,” Henry said, pinching the bridge of his large nose. His words came faster as if they were boulders rolling down a hill. “Without a union to someone else, yer father’s betrothal contract still stands. The clause will not take effect to void it.”

“I never signed it,” Tierney said with obvious frustration as if she’d already said it a million times to no avail. “I will not honor it.”

Kenan noted the small gathering. Were these all that was left of the MacNicol army? Old men and lads with four young men with swords? Were there more on farms far enough away that they hadn’t heard of the invading Mathesons? This clan was going to die out in another generation without help. Tierney’s father must have deduced this, which prompted him to contact the Matheson Clan.

Douglas MacNicol hated the other clans on Skye as much as Kenan’s father had, so of course he would look to mainland Scotland for a clan with whom to ally. And he’d been trying to use his non-cooperating daughter to do so when he died at sea.

Tierney stood tall, arms lowered to her sides and her hands in fists. Even though she once again wore a petticoat, Kenan imagined her legs were braced and ready. The horrific sweating sickness and the battle at Solway Moss had crippled their once-fearsome clan, and she was doing everything her wild imagination could create to save it. Perhaps she would have left and escaped the inevitable end, but she had a brother to support and a wee daughter who looked like a little angel with bright blue eyes and golden hair.

Tierney’s little lass hopped nimbly from the table and took her mother’s hand. Tierney immediately uncurled her fingers, winding them with Maggie’s. Kenan watched the young mother’s chin firm with determination. Aye, Tierney MacNicol would do anything to save her daughter and clan, even stealing a flying machine, even abducting a clan chief with her decoctions and shackling him. And Kenan could not stand to see her brought to heel by men such as Ranulf Matheson.

Henry’s voice rose. “We must have an ally to strengthen—”

Tierney waved her free hand at Kenan. “The Macdonald Clan is going to be our ally.”

“We need more than an understanding—”

“We are betrothed,” Kenan said, cutting into the man’s ranting. “Tierney and I are handfasted for a year and a day. ’Tis the same as marriage in these remote parts, and it activates the clause to break the betrothal to Ranulf.”

No one moved. Silence sat between everyone, and Tierney stared at him with her rosy lips parted. After he’d lied and said he was betrothed to Grace already, her shock was genuine.

“In a year and a day,” Kenan continued, “I will have demonstrated the support of Clan Macdonald of Sleat and deterred the Matheson Clan, and Tierney may decide whether to wed me officially or end the…ordeal.”

Tierney’s little girl, Maggie, let go of her hand and stepped up to him. She tipped her chin up so she could look into his face, her blond ringlets falling down her back. “You made that horrid man go away, so I think Mama should wed you,” she said. “If you treat her well and I get to stay with her.” The lass had as much courage as her mother. “And I like the swirly decoration on your arm.” She pointed to the ancient design of pigment etched into his skin, a reminder to him of the need for strength and his commitment to his people. “’Tis pretty.”

His war design was pretty?

“’Tis a pigment etched into his skin to show how brave he is,” Tierney said.

Maggie’s head tilted. “’Tis still pretty.”

Kenan kept his face serious. “And I think yer golden curls are pretty.”

Maggie smiled broadly. “They’re just like Mama’s.”

Kenan met Tierney’s still questioning gaze. “Aye, two golden-haired angels.”

The young warrior with the dark hair, who seemed to feel he had some claim on Tierney, cleared his throat. “Tier? Is this true? Ye’ve handfasted?”

Tier? Kenan’s gut tightened. Had she given this upstart permission to shorten her name? “Her name is Lady Tierney MacNicol.”

“Not to me,” the man said without looking away from her. Accusation twisted in his tone.

Angry heat spread within his chest, and Kenan resisted the urge to grab him by the throat. This judging lad had no idea what Kenan had just done to help their floundering clan. Foking hell . Kenan had offered a year of help, and with it, he might be igniting war with Clan Mackinnon if he couldn’t calm Cyrus and Grace.

“Yes, Jacob,” she said. “We are handfasted for a year and a day.”

“From what day?” Jacob countered.

“The day of the glider crash, so two days ago.”

Jacob’s gaze moved between them; his lips pulled back so that a flash of teeth could be seen. “So ye crashed his mad flying machine into the sea, and he said, ‘Let’s get handfasted’?”

The gazes kept volleying between Tierney and Jacob and then to Kenan.

“I…” Tierney began, hesitating at first, but then her words came smoothly. “I spoke with Kenan at length about our plight. He wishes to keep Skye free of other clans and unite us. Then he kissed me, and I demanded a handfasting before I’d submit to anything else.”

Everyone looked at Kenan. Condemnation shot from Jacob’s narrowed eyes. He’d decided Kenan was a conniving lech. Good bloody Lord. She’d been the one to drug and drag him off, shackling him.

He opened his mouth to say as much but stopped. It would show Tierney to be mad and criminal. And he certainly didn’t want this group of strangers to think he was so foolish as to let a curvy fallen angel trick him.

Confusion was on Gabriel’s cherubic face, and the other warriors had taken on Jacob’s menacing stare, forgetting how he’d just sent their enemies flying from their land.

He met Henry’s gaze. “A united Skye is the first step toward a united Scotland to stand strong against England or any other foreign invaders. So ’tis in the best interest of the MacNicol Clan that they unite with Clan Macdonald of Sleat to keep the Matheson Clan from invading yer shores.”

Jacob shook his head. “I don’t believe it. Tierney, even ye couldn’t convince him to handfast so quickly. Cora said he’d been talking to another woman at the wedding festival, Grace Mackinnon.”

“I have no agreement with Grace Mackinnon,” Kenan said and saw Tierney stare at him. She either thought he was lying now or back on their journey.

Kenan walked over to Tierney. “My sister, Lady Sara MacLeod, and her husband, Chief Rory MacLeod of Dunvegan, were there as witnesses.” All lies, but with the suspicious looks from Jacob and the other MacNicol warriors, they were necessary.

Kenan’s arm slipped around Tierney’s stiff form, pulling her closer. He bent his face to hers. Her eyes were wide open as he pressed his mouth against her warm lips. The kiss was short, but he felt desire jolt through him. She was warm and sweet-smelling, and he wanted to kiss her until she softened. And he needed to explain his declaration, but now wasn’t the time.

Kenan straightened but kept his arm locked around her as he looked at Henry. “Binding enough to break the contract and keep Ranulf away from Tierney and yer clan. I will write a letter to Chief Murdoc Matheson to that effect.”

Henry nodded, relief relaxing his bushy eyebrows. “That will be quite helpful.”

Cora hurried inside the front double doors, her gaze finding Maggie quickly as if she’d lost her. The older woman from the village who’d appraised him walked in on the arm of another woman. Both carried short swords. “There’s wee Maggie,” one said, glancing at Cora. “Safe with her mama.”

“I am so sorry, Edith,” Tierney said, “that Ranulf’s men went through your cottage.”

The elderly woman swiped her sword through the air, nearly hitting the other woman. “If I’d had this, they wouldn’t have dragged Maggie from under the bed. I would have sliced right through their Achilles tendons, and they wouldn’t be able to walk.”

“Good Lord,” Henry said, looking aghast at the ladies. “Edith, ye almost sliced Doris’s nose off.”

Edith lowered her blade, patting her friend’s arm. “Sorry, Doris.”

“No bother,” Doris said and looked at Tierney. “We are setting up a celebration in the bailey to honor yer union.”

“’Twas a handfasting,” Jacob said, “not a wedding.”

“In my day, that was the same thing.”

Jacob crossed his arms. “I don’t believe it. Their two witnesses aren’t here. No witnesses mean it didn’t happen.”

Blast the fool.

Cora looked with wide eyes between Tierney and Kenan, her cheeks reddening in her pale face. “I…I witnessed it. A handfasting?” She said the last word like a question, but then she nodded. “The binding with a sash and the promises. I saw it between Tier and Chief Macdonald.”

Doris smiled at Tierney. “Well, perhaps they will do it again before the village. We need something to celebrate.”

Tierney felt stiff, wound tight enough to explode if poked. She pulled away from him, and he felt her absence like a cold breeze. “No need for that, but we can celebrate.”

“A festival,” Maggie yelled with glee, jumping up and down. “Mama, Cora, let’s find wildflowers to make into crowns.”

Tierney took up Maggie’s hand; Cora took the other. Tierney gave Kenan a small smile. It was clearly a thank-you, and he nodded back. She walked with her daughter and beckoned the two ladies back outside.

Henry dropped a weathered hand on Kenan’s shoulder. “Ye have yer work cut out for ye, Chief Macdonald.”

Kenan looked at him. “She did not get along with her first husband, Maggie’s father?”

Henry shook his head, his bushy eyebrows like two clumps of cattail fluff stuck over his squinty eyes. “Nay. She agreed to wed at first, but then she begged her father to get her out of it. Even sheared all her glorious hair off to get him to release her, but he wouldn’t be deterred. It’s grown back as lovely, but it had been down past her hips. Her mother cried when she’d done it.” Henry shook his head. “To her pale scalp in some parts.”

“’Tis a wonder she didn’t run away,” Kenan said, walking with the man toward the door.

Gabriel stood beside him, his newt still on his shoulder. “She was locked up most of the time, and then Maggie came along.” The lad’s eyes held quiet anger. “She poured all her love into Maggie, and Wallace died shortly after she was born.”

“He was a Macqueen?” Kenan met the elderly man’s gaze. “Like ye?”

Henry nodded. “I came with Wallace here as escort.” He moved his head left and right. “An envoy per se, but I became friends with Douglas MacNicol and remained even when Tierney returned to Uig in Macqueen territory with Wallace. He was the young chief and moved them to Tuath Tower.”

“He was young? How did he die?” Kenan kept his voice even.

Jacob’s words came clipped and hard from behind Kenan, like stones being thrown at him. “An accident along the cliffs.”

Henry walked with Kenan out into the courtyard. “After her husband died, her parents took Tierney and Maggie back in here at Scorrybreac, and Clan Macqueen has not lived up to their promise to support Clan MacNicol. Apparently, Wallace Macqueen was not a respected chief. Since Maggie is a girl, they’re not offering any support against Clan Matheson.”

The Macqueens lived in the northernmost part of Skye and were renowned fishermen. Perhaps Kenan could use the link with Tierney and Maggie to approach them about uniting as allies.

“Since the sweating sickness hit our clan, they’ve had nothing more to do with us,” Henry finished. “I rather think they’re waiting for us to die out so the new chief can take over this land.”

Their boots crunched along the pebbles in the bailey as they caught up to Tierney, Cora, and Maggie. Tables were being carried into the space, and at least thirty more people had come out of their homes with colorful cloths to lay over them.

“Riders were sent out?” Tierney asked Doris.

Doris nodded. “We sent some lads out on horses to tell the farmers in the area of the celebration.”

Edith gave a little sniff. “I wager they will come quicker for tarts than for fighting.”

Maggie twirled, skirts whirling out and stopped before her mother. “They’re coming because you’ve saved us, Mama.”

“I… Uh…” Tierney’s words trailed off, and she looked at Kenan.

“Aye,” he said, meeting her gaze, “yer brave mother’s plan has worked.”

At least for the time being.