Page 17 of The Highlander’s Fallen Angel (Brotherhood of Solway Moss #2)

“Life is the fire that burns and the sun that gives light. Life is the wind and the rain and the thunder in the sky. Life is matter and is earth, what is and what is not, and what beyond is in Eternity.”

Lucius Annaeus Seneca – Roman Statesman, 5 BC–65 AD

Jacob and another man with a red beard and hair pulled up in the yard, making the crows fly about before settling again. Jacob barely waited for his horse to stop before jumping down to jog over to Tierney.

“What is it?” Henry asked.

Jacob presented a sealed missive and a small wooden box to Tierney. He stared right into her eyes as if she were the only person there even though Kenan was right beside her.

“Ranulf?” Tierney asked.

“He returned with twenty men,” Jacob said. “They ransacked the village.”

Of course they did, the bastard. “Did they set fires?” Kenan asked.

“Nay.” His gaze shifted to Kenan. “He ordered his men to do it, but one, who I think was the leader of the warriors, said that Murdoc had ordered them not to. If they wanted to take over a village, they shouldn’t burn it.”

Tierney turned the missive over, and all thoughts stopped except one. Father? Pressed across the fold was a seal in wax, the profile of a hawk with tiny letters that read Scorrybreac. “’Tis my father’s signet ring,” she said, looking to Kenan. His face was dark with concern.

She broke the seal, unfolding the letter. Her fingers pressed against her lips as she recognized the handwriting. “’Tis from Father.”

“Yer father?” Kenan asked.

“He’s not lost at sea, then,” Sara added from behind Tierney.

Henry stood by her other shoulder, reading over it. Kenan studied her as she bowed her head to read.

To my daughter, Tierney MacNicol of Scorrybreac, widow of Chief Wallace Macqueen

We have been hostilely detained by Chief Murdoc Matheson at Eilean Donan Castle. Fannie sends her signet ring to prove this letter is from us. The crew, your mother, and I will be forfeited if you further refuse to wed Ranulf Matheson. The betrothal Chief Matheson and I negotiated overrides whatever you tried to set in place by handfasting with Chief Macdonald of Sleat. I have scratched out the clause you requested.

You will surrender yourself at Eilean Donan in exchange for our lives. I will then surrender leadership of Clan MacNicol of Scorrybreac to Lord Ranulf to ensure your mother’s safety. Once you wed Lord Ranulf, you will continue to be the Lady of Scorrybreac Castle at his side while your mother, brother, and I go into exile.

May God move your heart to help your mother and the MacNicol crew.

Your father, Chief Douglas MacNicol

Tierney’s hand clenched around her mother’s ring, and her heart spread its wings, beating rapidly as if to rise from her chest. May God move your heart . Her father had said that last part because he hadn’t seen much of Tierney’s heart after he’d refused to help her escape her nightmare marriage even after he saw the bruises. Douglas MacNicol had turned his back on his own daughter’s pleas, telling her to endure and do her duty.

And now he wanted her to sacrifice herself again.

Douglas MacNicol knew she’d never do it for him, but Tierney loved her mother. And the crew was made up of MacNicol warriors, young men alongside whom she’d grown. Jacob had been away on another mission for her to find Asher when her parents had sailed, answering Chief Matheson’s summons. Or else Jacob would be trapped at Eilean Donan Castle, too. Her chest squeezing, it was hard to draw a full breath. Her parents were alive.

Henry took the letter from her trembling fingers, and she let him. She kept her mother’s ring, sliding it onto her smallest finger and kissing it.

“They’re alive,” Henry murmured, his eyes wide when he looked up from the letter. “Ye must go. Save your parents and the crew.”

Tierney wobbled, and Kenan’s warm hand lifted under her arm. “We will make another rescue plan that doesn’t put Tierney in danger.”

“Ye must marry Ranulf,” Henry continued as if Kenan hadn’t spoken. “Your father says the handfasting, or even a wedding, is null, that the clause about—”

“Aunt Morag,” Sara called over Henry’s noise, “do you have more of that mica dust?” She took Tierney’s other arm in support.

“Plenty,” Morag answered, stepping forward. “Always in my pocket for bloody jackanapes.”

Henry’s face reddened, his lips turning white as he pressed them together. He pointed at Tierney, his finger jabbing the air like a chicken pecking at seeds. “Ye must save them. ’Tis your duty.” His gaze shifted back to Morag, and when the woman took a confident step forward, her hand already in her pocket, he ran to his horse, throwing himself up in the saddle. “Think of your mother,” he added before kicking the horse to get it running along the road that led north to Dunvegan.

Tierney’s heart thudded hard, an instinct to run making her feel dizzy. Whether to run toward her mother to save her or away from all of them to save herself and Maggie, she wasn’t sure.

The five of them made a little circle in Morag’s yard. “Ye have a ship,” Rory said to Kenan.

“Two galleons and thirty smaller Birlinn ships,” he answered, his voice strong.

“Birlinn ships?” Tierney asked, her voice soft.

“They are small ships with oars and a single sail,” Kenan answered. “Along with the galleons, they can carry eight hundred men.”

“Men who are currently rebuilding Dunscaith Castle,” Sara said. “In case…” Tierney felt her glance. “In case you come under siege.”

Tierney pulled her arm from Sara and rubbed her face. Kenan must surely regret rescuing her from the sea. “I would leave the Isle of Skye, take Maggie and run. Take refuge with some other clan. But those men and my mother are innocent.”

Kenan remained at her side. “And Clan Matheson will still journey to Skye after they make good on their threats.”

Rory nodded, looking grim. “Without a united Skye, they see their opportunity to come in and take root.”

“Like a vicious weed,” Sara said.

Tierney took a full breath and turned her face to Kenan. He looked so concerned for her. “I’ll do anything to stop that,” Tierney said, her voice stronger, “except surrender my body and soul to Ranulf.”

“Of course not,” Morag said. “I have some other things besides your body and soul to use against the Mathesons. I’ll teach you on the journey to Eilean Donan.”

And just like that, Morag Gunn, Kenan’s widowed aunt with suspect ways, had decided they were going to Eilean Donan.

Everyone looked at Morag. “And yes, I am coming,” she said as if reading everyone’s minds. “I will have the twins watch my crows, the ones that remain here.” She walked back into her cottage as if to pack. “I’ll give them the choice to journey with me or not.”

“We must head back to Dunvegan to prepare,” Rory said.

Kenan’s fingers wove between Tierney’s, linking their hands and silently offering her support. “We are going to war, then.”

All because of her.

…

Morag sat at her table, the silence of the room pressing in on her. She tipped the bag of fragrant lavender along the polished boards and smoothed them into a circle, breathing the strong, floral scent. It reminded her of her sister, and she wished once again that she still lived.

Would Elspet see the spirit of air inside Tierney? Would she wish the woman to find her way into Kenan’s bruised heart?

Blessedly, Kenan took after Elspet and not his horrible father, Walter Macdonald. Elspet’s younger son, Gilbert, was slow witted and had been easily influenced by his father, making the lad mean and suspicious. That boy would end up married to a domineering shrew, no doubt.

Kenan needed someone wise, someone who understood and supported his desire to unify the isle. Someone who could push him out of the sacrificial role Kenan seemed to take on too easily. First taking his father’s place in prison after the battle of Solway Moss even though Kenan had gotten away safely. Then he’d allowed his father and brother to ignore his guidance without rallying the Macdonald warriors against them. It would have been easy, because Kenan had won their loyalty with his fairness and honesty. Kindness was his strength even if he’d been taught that it was his weakness.

Morag chuckled to herself as she dragged her finger through the tiny lavender buds to form an X and four equal quadrants. The same could be said about love. It could be a person’s strength, their rock in a storm, and their downfall when they sacrificed all for someone or something else. Which would Tierney be to Kenan? Because Morag had no doubt that something was growing between them. She’d seen it in the way they moved around one another, like magnets attempting not to let their sides collide but feeling the pull continuously.

“North,” Morag said and set a chunk of salt crystal in the quadrant at the top of the circle. “For earth.

“West,” she said, placing the small silver cup of water in the quadrant to the left. “For water.”

In the bottom quadrant, she placed a small white lump of beeswax with a wick in it. She lit it with the candle sitting at one end of the table. “South, for fire.” Which was her niece, Sara. She’d won Rory MacLeod, the love between the two making them strong.

In the right, or east, quadrant, she set a white feather. “And this is for air,” she said and pulled the hairclip that Tierney had given her crow, Madeline. The bird had brought it to Morag, and now Morag plucked a golden hair from it that she’d seen glinting in the sun. She set Tierney’s hair over the feather. Closing her eyes, she hovered her hand over it.

“Let the Celtic goddess of the sky, moon, and stars, Arianrhod, guide Tierney MacNicol.” Morag closed her eyes, floating her palm over the feather and strand of Tierney’s hair. She focused on the sight of Tierney soaring over the sea with the wings that Kenan had fashioned. “Earth Mother, Gaia, help me bring strength to our isle. Protect the elements and make them strong and united. Guide me as your helper in this realm.”

A sudden wind gusted around the cottage.

Crack!

Morag’s eyes snapped open as the shutters on two windows flew open, and a big wind swirled into the room, scattering the lavender and lifting the feather to the rafters. She smiled as her long white hair rose with the power of the wind. Gaia was pleased and would help Morag save the isle.

Because Morag had no doubt a war was coming.

…

“MacLeods will guard the coastline of Scorrybreac and Dunvegan,” Kenan said, running his finger down the unrolled map in the center of the library table. His fingertip ran down to the Sleat Peninsula where Dunscaith Castle sat, and he tapped the rook drawn there. “And I will journey home and organize our warriors to sail with us over to the Matheson Clan, which is now occupying Eilean Donan Castle at the convergence of Loch Alsh and Loch Duich.”

Kenan looked up at Tierney as she stared at the map. Another golden curl slipped from her head after being loosened on their ride back to Dunvegan. Lord help him, he just wanted to inhale the fresh air that probably scented it. She hadn’t said anything during the journey. A slight pinch of her brows showed turmoil, but how much was swirling around under that brilliant hair?

“My father almost conquered Eilean Donan five years ago with fifty Birlinn ships,” Sara said. “About twenty of our fleet sank, and Father hadn’t yet rebuilt them.”

Kenan tapped the port across the peninsula where his ships harbored. “We will bring eight hundred men.”

“Murdoc Matheson has more men than that,” Tierney said, her fingers absently tucking her hair behind an ear.

Kenan looked at her until she raised her gaze to his. “But Ranulf does not.”

“His brother does not support him?” Tierney asked.

Kenan cupped the back of his neck. “Murdoc fought at Solway Moss and told me his brother was a coward for not coming. Assuming Ranulf hasn’t done anything heroic in his brother’s eyes since then, my words were true.”

“Murdoc Matheson must want to expand Matheson territory.” Sara cast a knowing look at Kenan. “Especially if he can get rid of his tiresome brother by sending him to live on Skye.” They both knew something about wanting to get rid of a troublesome brother, their younger brother, Gilbert, who’d disappeared when their father died instead of supporting Kenan’s chiefdom.

“If we arrive without warning,” Kenan said, “Murdoc could take it as an act of aggression.”

“Send a letter to Chief Matheson that I’m coming, then,” Tierney said. She swallowed. “In exchange for the crew and my parents.”

Foking nay . Kenan’s hands fisted on the table, and he shook his head.

“Don’t fly Macdonald colors,” Tierney continued, “and he might think the ships are my escort, although MacNicols have never had that many Birlinn ships.”

“Some can hide back behind the small isle, Glas Eilean, until they hear cannon fire,” Rory said.

“What do we do when we get there?” Tierney asked. Was it worry or determination in the lines of her face?

“I will escort Lady Tierney inside,” Henry said.

Kenan was shaking his head, but no one was paying him much attention.

“A fool’s plan,” Simon said, glaring at the MacNicol advisor.

“Ye can’t just hand her over,” John said, waving both his good arm and his stump, his eyes wide. “That Matheson whelp will pull her before a cleric who will say the handfasting is pagan and then marry them.”

Kenan’s voice came out loud, a blast of sound from his roiling stomach. “Rory and I will go in first, as chiefs on the Isle of Skye, to talk with Chief Murdoc.”

“They could just kill you,” Tierney said while Sara shook her head.

Rory bent to kiss his wife’s lips softly and pulled back. “The Lion of Skye is not so easily dispatched.”

“Even a lion bleeds,” Sara said.

“Especially if attacked by ten men with swords or pistols,” Tierney said. “We must be clever, trick them.” She released a breath, looking at Kenan, and he saw stark determination. “I could go in using some tricks Morag says she will teach me on the way over.”

“That witch is not coming,” Henry said, his voice rising. The man still had some mica dust glittering on his skin.

Tierney frowned. “I would rather Lady Morag walk into Eilean Donan with me than you. She won’t surrender me.”

“I won’t surrender ye,” Henry said, affronted.

“You would do so in a heartbeat.”

Rapid footsteps echoed from a back hall, and Cora ran inside the Great Hall. As usual, her eyes were wide. “Tierney, ’tis Maggie.”

Tierney’s gaze snapped to her. “What’s happened?”

“There’s some sort of pit in the castle, below ground, and she’s down it.”