Page 15 of The Highlander’s Fallen Angel (Brotherhood of Solway Moss #2)

“We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another.”

Luciano De Crescenzo – Italian Writer, 1928–

Tierney looked back over Fleet’s rump at the trail of villagers following them, some on horseback, some in wagons, and some walking. They carried what was important to them, what they couldn’t stand to let Clan Matheson burn or steal if they came while Scorrybreac was abandoned.

With a possible war with Clan Mackinnon, Kenan couldn’t spare any Macdonald men to protect Scorrybreac, so the next best thing was to bring MacNicols to safer ground: Dunvegan and Dunscaith.

“You’re riding so well,” Tierney said to Maggie, who sat before Gabriel on his horse, her dark gray pony trotting behind.

“I think she can ride Blackberry when we stop,” Gabriel said, pushing her blond hair to the side so it wouldn’t keep hitting him in the face from the wind.

“We will see,” Tierney said, not trusting Maggie to stay awake and not fall off her pony’s back. Her eyes looked heavy from the swaying already.

Tierney’s gaze slid to the line of villagers. A few had remained behind, including Jacob. He would ride as fast as he could to Dunvegan Castle if he saw the Matheson ship arrive. Some of the villagers had elected to stay with relatives living away from the village on farms, hoping the Mathesons wouldn’t come out there to cause havoc. And all this upheaval was because she refused to wed Ranulf.

She felt the flush on her cheeks and turned back to face front.

My father was wrong. I am not a sacrifice.

Kenan’s words to Henry had straightened her spine when she hadn’t even realized she was bowed under the weight of shame. She courageously sought to put an end to it with me.

She’d been told most of her life that she was acting obstinate, not courageous. Kenan saw her differently, but she’d never have the chance to convince her father. Her heart squeezed, and she blinked away the ache of unshed tears.

Kenan rode ahead of her on his huge Percheron mare, speaking with Rory MacLeod. As soon as Cyrus Mackinnon left and Kenan threatened Henry into silence, they mobilized, and both Rory and Kenan took charge of evacuating the village.

There’d been no time to talk with Kenan about their adventures last night and the destruction of his friendship with Cyrus Mackinnon. After leaving the hall, she’d gone straight to her old bedchamber to pack Maggie’s things and her own, changing quickly into a green gown with laced bodice.

In the presence of Lady Sara, Tierney couldn’t bring herself to don her trousers and man’s tunic. Kenan’s sister was slim and could probably eat as many tarts as she wanted without worrying about stomach bulges. Tierney’s body had expanded in all sorts of places when she’d carried Maggie and then nursed her, leaving marks on her skin that Kenan hadn’t seen in the darkness last night.

She sniffed, raising her chin a bit. If he had a problem with how she looked naked, she’d point out his own imperfections and walk away from this farce of a handfasting.

Although the marks on his back took nothing away from the beauty of his well-muscled form. The man was like a sculpted god. Only the scars on his back, and the nicks here and there, showed him to be mortal.

“Your daughter is beautiful,” Sara said, and Tierney glanced beside her where Kenan’s sister rode her own horse and then followed her gaze to Maggie who’d revived at the sight of a heron spreading its wings. She was jabbering away, pointing to the bird and then wildflowers while Gabriel tried not to roll his eyes at her excitement. It was Maggie’s first trip that she remembered.

“She means everything to me.” Tierney felt her cheeks warm again. That damn guilt flowed through her like a fever. Did Maggie not mean enough to marry a greedy, heavy-handed man? But Ranulf would hurt her, too, either physically or by sending her away.

“I don’t have a child yet,” Sara continued, “but when I do, I hope I can teach her through example how to be strong and to look out for her own well-being.” Sara met Tierney’s gaze with strength. “I was married away for an alliance before I married Rory. It would have seen me dead if I’d remained in it.”

Tierney felt tears burn behind her eyes. She’d never been afforded kind support before. It wrapped around her heart, and she tipped her head back to look up at the trees they were passing under to keep any tears from leaking out.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You should speak with my aunt Morag,” Sara said with a knowing smile. “She supports women in a world that tries to weigh us down.”

Weighed down. Yes. That was how Tierney felt. Tierney cleared her throat. “Men have the strength. Imagine what the world would be like if women were physically stronger.”

“Morag would say we are stronger,” Sara said. “Girl babes survive their births more than boy babes. We have parts strong enough to grow and carry and birth a babe. That’s where our strength lies.”

“True,” Tierney said. She liked talking to Kenan’s sister.

“And our intuition guides us more,” Sara continued, her tone like she was discussing a recipe for bread rather than radical ideas. “We’ve had to learn to notice signs of strife, danger, and illness quickly to keep our children alive and to save our own lives. All that makes us strong, too.”

“Does Kenan agree with your ideas?”

Sara tipped her head, thinking. “I’ve never asked him, but he’s heard much of this from our aunt.” She looked at Tierney. “And he’s kind, to a fault sometimes. Our father beat him for it until Kenan was big enough to retaliate with deadly force if Father tried to lift a hand to him again. Father knew that, I think, because the beatings stopped, but not the constant criticism.”

Tierney frowned, glanced at Kenan’s straight back and then to Sara. “Kenan is too kind?”

Sara shrugged. “He’s a rescuer and wants to save everyone, like you and your clan.” She glanced at the line of villagers walking, riding horseback, or in wagons. Tierney hadn’t realized how diminished her clan had become with the sweating sickness. There were so few, barely twenty.

“But Kenan can’t save everyone,” Sara continued. “The world is too big and full of cruel people.”

A prickle rose just under Tierney’s skin. Sara thought that her brother had gone with Tierney to save her, only because he was a natural rescuer, and she’d coerced him.

“I…” Tierney blinked, not sure what to say. “I’m sorry I interfered with his plans with the Mackinnon Clan.”

Sara looked at her. “Oh dear,” she said, noticing Tierney’s flush. She reached over to pat her hand. “Don’t worry about that. Grace Mackinnon is too…well, too hard to please to marry Kenan. She would require every bit of his attention when he wants to do so much for so many.” She shook her head. “It would have become miserable for them both.”

“You aren’t trying to tell me you’re unhappy we handfasted?”

Sara laughed softly. “I’m not trying to tell you anything, Lady Tierney. I but give you a little insight into my hard-to-understand brother.”

Tierney stared up front at Kenan, riding easily in his great saddle. Maybe she did understand him. He would sacrifice his own happiness to save many. As a woman, to sacrifice herself meant surrendering her body, will, and soul. Something she’d sworn never to do again.

…

“I will march to Dunscaith with the few remaining MacNicol warriors,” Kenan said, leaning over the table where a map was laid out in Dunvegan’s Great Hall.

Afternoon sunlight filtered in through the high windows, but candles had been lit to help him and Rory study the detailed map of territories on Skye. “It takes two days to get home.”

Henry paced across from Kenan. Rory’s uncles, Simon and John, watched the MacNicol advisor, frowning. Rory’s dog, Gus, watched Henry, too, his shaggy head going back and forth anytime someone spoke as if he were in the conversation. Tierney liked dogs. Even though Sneachda was obviously Gabriel’s pet and Maggie’s protector, Kenan was sure he’d lay down his life to protect Tierney, too. Perhaps he needed to adopt some dogs at Dunscaith.

“I could send a group of fifty men to Scorrybreac,” Rory said. “Help keep Matheson raiders from burning everything.”

“They must bring their own provisions,” Henry said. “We have none at Scorrybreac.”

“Yer chief’s only been dead for a month,” Simon called, his one good eye squinting at Henry. He’d lost the other eye in one of the battles against Kenan’s father.

“Didn’t he have provisions stored up?” John asked. He’d lost his left forearm in a Macdonald battle as well. The two of them had been Rory’s father’s advisors and had decided to stay on, much to Rory’s annoyance. But they seemed to have become a fixture in Dunvegan, like the ancient tapestry of MacLeod victory and the legendary Fairy Flag.

Henry glared at the two men. “We’ve suffered from war and disease, losing so many people.”

“Which means more food for those still alive,” Simon said.

“It means there’s no one to till, plant, and harvest the fields,” Henry said with an air of frustration. “At the height of the sweating sickness, we had livestock roaming the fields feeding themselves because everyone was either ill, dead, or taking care of the ill and dead.”

“If we decide on that course,” Rory said, “they will bring their own provisions.” All three elderly men continued to hold old resentments against each other’s clans. ’Twas an example of how disunion weakened Skye and all of Scotland.

“Dunscaith Castle is a destroyed castle,” John said, “and ye still have provisions.” His words were low, but Henry still heard them. The old MacNicol swore under his breath and continued to pace.

Rory looked at the two advisors. “If ye two can’t be civil to our guests, then ye can go back to yer cottage in the village.”

Simon crossed his arms. “We can’t.”

“We’ve given our cottage to two MacNicol ladies,” John said.

“Sweet ladies but with a sharp wit about them,” Simon went on with a grin. “Doris and Edith.”

“Edith has quite the short sword,” John said and grinned, too.

“Hope she pokes ye with it,” Henry murmured.

“Then keep yer comments kind or go help in the kitchens,” Margaret, the housekeeper, said as she strode into the Great Hall.

“That woman can hear every inch of this place,” Simon said, tapping his ear that looked like it should be sheared of hair. John nodded in agreement, but neither of them made any move to quit the room.

“Ladies Eleri and Eliza have taken the sweet child, Maggie, with them to play in the tower room that used to be Eleri’s.” Margaret smiled fondly. “’Twill be nice having a little one running around again. And that white bear follows Maggie everywhere.”

“He’s a Pyrenees dog from France, and his name is Sneachda,” Henry said. “It means snow, because of his coat. He’s very protective.”

Kenan had heard that a Great Pyrenees could take down a wolf. “How did ye end up with a French dog here on Skye?” Kenan asked.

“Tierney’s father used to travel at times to France because he had ties to the de Guise family.” Henry’s chin rose with pride over his chief’s connections. “He brought the dog back for Tierney as a pup.”

“If Chief MacNicol used to sail all the way around Scotland and down to France, he must have been an experienced sailor,” Kenan said. “Seems unlikely he’d be lost at sea just sailing to the mainland.”

“We thought that, too,” came a lilting voice.

Kenan turned to the archway where Tierney walked out. She wore the dress that matched her green eyes, and her hair was piled in curls on top of her head, giving him a lovely view of the neck that he’d kissed through the night two days ago before the grand exodus of her clan. Cheeks rosy and golden swirls pinned up with a few tendrils down to tease her cheeks, she looked like an angel from the illuminated bible that had burned in Dunscaith’s vast library.

John and Simon both stood from their seats as if Tierney was a queen.

She walked toward Kenan, her gaze, which had quickly circled the room, landing on him. Did she always enter rooms looking for danger? Like prey on constant guard?

“But they didn’t return,” she continued. “And none of the crew. We sent word through a bard to the mainland, asking about the Rosemary .” She shook her head. “Nothing. After a month, we declared them lost. ’Tis been two months now.”

“We are sorry for the loss of yer parents,” Rory said. “’Tis a tragedy.”

She bowed her head with a natural grace that he’d seen as she walked. “Thank you. We came to the realization slowly, but it was still an unkind surprise.”

“She does look like an angel,” Simon said, and John nodded.

“She’s no angel,” Henry murmured, which elicited frowns from the two men again. Those three wouldn’t be playing Draughts together anytime soon. Battle histories between the clans were still raw even after decades.

Rory’s gaze had risen from the map to acknowledge Tierney. His usual frown turned into a wry grin as he glanced at Kenan. “We have no use for angels here,” Rory said. “Although the fallen ones,” he nodded toward Tierney, “are welcome.”

He referred to the glider crash, but his words could have a carnal meaning. “My sister did have quite the fall, too, after she met ye,” Kenan said.

Rory chuckled. “Aye, that she did, and I’m a lucky man for it.”

Tierney walked over to the table, running her fingers lightly over the map. Kenan could feel her presence, like a warmth, close to him, as if she were a flame on a cold night. They’d had no time to talk or for him to reassure her that their night together had been remarkable. She wasn’t a virgin except to pleasure, and he planned to teach her every way to achieve it if she were game.

Sara came down and walked up to Rory with a knowing smile. “I am lucky you caught me.”

Did everyone listen at the door before they walked in?

The obvious affection between his sister and her new husband pulsed with heat. “If ye two are going to stare at one another like that, ye should take to yer bedchamber,” Kenan said.

Rory grabbed Sara’s hand and began to walk away. She laughed, pulling it from him. “I’m taking Tierney to meet Aunt Morag.”

“Morag?” Simon passed the sign of the cross before his chest, and John followed the action with his one remaining hand.

“Who is that?” Henry asked, looking startled.

“A witch,” Simon said.

“Aunt Morag is not a witch,” Sara called out, frowning at the two men.

John’s eyes were wide. “Well, I wouldn’t call her that in front of her, else she turns us into newts or mushrooms or some such.”

“Or she’d just plain poison us like her husband,” Simon said. He turned his face to Henry and silently mouthed, She’s a witch .

Kenan had heard the rumors of Morag killing her husband decades ago after he beat her. If the man had abused his aunt, he deserved nothing less. His own father had tortured his wife in those last years. He either pushed her off the roof of Dunscaith, or she leaped to escape him. Aye, a man like that deserved nothing less than being poisoned or, in the case of his father, decapitated. Those with power, physical or otherwise, should wield it to protect those in their care, not use it to force people into horrid situations they must endure.

“Shall we go?” Tierney asked.

Henry drew himself up as if knowing a storm surge would be forthcoming. “Lady Tierney, ye cannot visit this Morag woman.”

Tierney looked at Sara as if he hadn’t spoken. “Maggie is with your sisters and Cora.”

Sara smiled, looped her arm through Tierney’s, and they walked toward the steps that would lead them down to Dunvegan’s ferry to cross over.

“I will visit Aunt Morag also,” Kenan said.

Henry blustered but followed him down the steps. “Is yer aunt really a witch?”

“She has crows, and no one bothers her even though she lives alone out on the moor,” Kenan answered.

“Crows?” Henry asked.

Kenan started down the steps. “Large black birds.”

“I know what crows are,” Henry said. “But keeping them? Like they’re pets?”

“I believe my aunt sees them more as friends or her army.” Kenan continued through the iron gate.

Henry sounded out of breath as he hastened to keep up with them. “How many does she have?”

“Quite a few,” Sara answered.

“Has anyone asked her if she’s a witch?” Henry asked.

“Not certain,” Kenan said, “but there are a fair number of newts around her cottage. Food for her crows.”

“Gabriel would love to meet more like Betrim,” Tierney said.

“Who?” Henry asked.

“Gabriel’s newt,” Tierney said.

“Was Betrim his name when he was a man?” Simon called from the top of the steps.

“Betrim has always been a newt,” Tierney said and met Kenan’s gaze with a small smile. With her hair pinned up, she looked royal, and he couldn’t wait to pluck those pins and inhale the sweet essence of her as he buried his face in her golden tresses. Maybe she would join him tonight.

“Return if ye’re not a newt, Master Henry,” John called, stopping at the iron gate.

On the bank, Kenan looked out toward the connecting sea while Sara explained to Tierney and Henry how the sea protected Dunvegan Castle. Dunscaith Castle, however, did not perch on a small island and relied entirely on walls to protect it. Would Mackinnon ships sail around the Sleat Peninsula to Dunscaith, attacking their port first before continuing around to the castle and village?

Kenan’s gut tightened. He needed to fix the rift between Cyrus and himself, Grace Mackinnon, too. He swiped a thumb across his palm where the ridges of four scars rose, reminding him of the oath they’d taken.

And now Asher MacNicol was missing, and Cyrus Mackinnon was damning Kenan for ruining a marriage alliance with his sister. He felt stretched between Cyrus and the woman who’d crashed into his life. Was he doing the right thing by helping her?

He couldn’t imagine doing anything less.