Page 29 of The Highlander’s Fallen Angel (Brotherhood of Solway Moss #2)

“Love shows itself more in adversity than in prosperity; as light does, which shines most where the place is darkest.”

Leonardo da Vinci – Italian artist and scientist, 1452–1519

A week had passed since that clear night when the stars witnessed Tierney’s proposal, or answer, or whatever the amazing interlude had been. Even in the light of the next morning, she hadn’t retracted the idea of marriage, informing her parents that she wished to make the handfasting something more official.

Kenan stood on the hill above Dunscaith, waiting with the rest of the wedding party and spectators. He saw Jacob Tanner amongst the MacNicol warriors. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Cyrus and Rory and walked over. Kenan hadn’t spoken to Jacob except for a few words since their fight. He’d been waiting for an opportunity to catch the young man alone since he’d picked more details out of Tierney about her life with Wallace.

“Jacob,” he said. “A word.” The man didn’t move. “It will be quick.”

“Go on,” said one of the warriors. “’Tis his wedding day.”

Jacob kept his frown but walked over to him away from the crowd. Kenan held out his hand, but Jacob just stared at it, so Kenan dropped it. “I just want to thank ye, Jacob, for being a good friend to Tierney.” He met Jacob’s permanently narrowed eyes. “Especially…what I’m thinking ye did to help her out of her marriage to that bastard, Wallace.”

Jacob’s eyes opened wider for a moment. “Don’t know what ye mean.”

“I’m grateful,” Kenan said. He rested his hand on Jacob’s shoulder as if he were passing him to walk away, but he stopped. “That Wallace Macqueen happened to lose his footing on those cliffs, and that ye happened to go directly to find Tierney and Maggie locked without food or water in that foking closet.”

His hand squeezed Jacob’s shoulder as Kenan tamped down the fury that rose up whenever he thought about it. “I…am truly grateful.” Without glancing at him, Kenan walked away, back to where the priest, Father Bright, stood with Cyrus and Rory. They were all staring down at Dunscaith Castle.

“Ye think she will emerge?” Cyrus asked as Kenan walked up. “She’d sworn never to marry anyone ever again.”

Rory playfully punched Cyrus’s arm. “Stop worrying him.”

“I’m just saying,” Cyrus continued, “she has a history of surprising us, changing plans, climbing trees—”

“Hold yer tongue,” Rory said again, the humor out of his voice. “Can’t ye see he’s growing pale?”

Kenan watched the gate of Dunscaith for a sign of Tierney. She’d asked Sara if she could get ready in the bedchamber, and his sister had made Rory move out immediately. So they’d had the bed together for the week.

Sara had just arrived out of the castle, holding Maggie’s wee hand. She waved at Kenan as if to tell him he had nothing to worry about.

Tierney had sent for Cora, Gabriel, and Maggie, along with the twins, Eliza and Eleri, to watch the ceremony. Even Rory’s two old advisors, John and Simon, had come, escorting Doris and Edith, who still had their swords strapped to their sides like elderly warrior maidens. And Father Bright had been recalled from the mainland to perform the ceremony.

Henry stood as far away as he could from Morag, where several village children held bits of Bannocks out for her crows to nip from their little hands. Tierney’s father waited for her at the gates with her horse, Fleet, who’d been groomed and beribboned for the occasion.

Sara trudged up the hill and came to stand next to Kenan. “Brides always take some time to prepare their hair and costume. I left her mother with her just now.” She patted his arm. “Perhaps Fannie is giving her the talk about what to expect on her wedding night.”

Kenan’s face turned to her, and he saw the humor in her gaze. “She still wants to marry me.”

“She seems to,” Sara said, nodding, but the humor left her face. Lowering her voice, she said, “But Tierney’s been through a lot, trauma that she’s still working through.”

He stared at her. “Did she say something just now? Hinted that she doesn’t want to go through with the ceremony?” A coldness tinged his words, but his sister knew him well.

She shook her head. “Of course not. I’m simply saying she’s been through a lot, especially when she was married to a sadistic, diseased wolf of a man, and she might be a bit nervous and take her time coming out.”

Kenan inhaled, releasing the breath. “I would kill him if given the chance, slicing off piece after piece until he stopped twitching.”

She patted his chest. “Somehow such sentiments don’t seem appropriate for a wedding.”

They both looked out toward the gates where Douglas MacNicol and Fleet waited.

…

Tierney stared at herself in the polished glass and barely recognized the beauty staring back. Sara, Cora, and her mother had helped Tierney alter the magnificent wedding costume Sara’s mother, Elspet, had worn to fit Tierney’s slender frame better. The flowing petticoat had bluebells and birds stitched into the overskirt that parted in the front to reveal a panel of blue satin, studded with pearls. Old lace had been replaced with satin ribbon around the edging, giving a crisp, new look. A panel of sheer fabric was removed from the wide neckline, leaving Tierney’s collarbone exposed from shoulder to shoulder. And they’d added a train of ivory satin edged with blue to match the gown. A crown of bluebells and perfect daisies sat in Tierney’s hair. Half her golden curls were lifted and woven to sit inside the crown while the rest of the curls cascaded down to the middle of her back. Even her slippers had been decorated with matching ribbon roses in ivory and blue.

“You are exquisite,” Fannie said, smiling brightly.

Tierney’s heart flipped at the memory of her mother saying the same sentiment when she’d wed Wallace. That day, she’d just wanted to make her father proud.

That’s not why I’m marrying Kenan .

“I am so glad I talked you out of wearing that leather contraption underneath,” Fannie said.

Tierney had considered putting on Morag’s armor to surprise Kenan, giving him the key as a symbolic gesture. But the neckline was low enough that the edge of the armor might show. She’d save it for another night when she wanted to tease him a bit.

“’Tis…beautiful,” Tierney said, holding out the full petticoats.

Fannie walked closer, her slim hand touching her cheek. Her fingers were cool on Tierney’s warm skin. “ You are beautiful.” Tears sat in her mother’s eyes. “And you’ve always deserved love. Kenan loves you. ’Tis obvious to everyone who witnesses him looking at you.”

“I…I love him, too,” she whispered, and her mother’s tears swelled out. Tierney had to blink to keep her own back. She smiled. “I do. I love him. I will tell him in a few minutes.”

Fannie nodded, dabbing under her eyes with a handkerchief. “Then let’s get you out there.” Her mother walked to the door. “I’ll let your father know you’re coming. I fear we’ve taken longer than we thought to get ready. Poor Kenan will wonder.” She hurried out of the room as Tierney looked at herself in the mirror.

I love him.

The words blew through her chest like the inhalation of a fresh breeze. “I want to marry him,” she whispered to the woman in the mirror.

In the reflection, Tierney caught a movement near the door. Perhaps her father had grown weary of waiting and had come to fetch her. Things had been better since he’d stood at the window of the cottage. Just releasing the betrayal she’d felt and seeing him sad about his poor judgment had made it so she didn’t roil with fury every time she saw him.

She turned, enjoying the feel of the full skirts billowing out around her. And then her heart thumped like someone had kicked it.

“Aren’t ye a bonny lass?” Ranulf Matheson stood in the doorway. He took two steps inside the room and shut the door behind him. “’Twas almost like ye knew I was coming.”

…

“Perhaps she will steal yer wings again,” Cyrus said. “Watch the roofline.”

Rory picked up a pebble and threw it at Cyrus. “I don’t remember ye being such a foking pest when we were in Carlisle.”

“Starvation and smelling like a neglected animal took away my humor,” Cyrus said.

“Her mother just came out,” Kenan said, relief relaxing his fists. He’d been holding them so tightly they tingled now. “She’s taking Chief Douglas’s arm.” He exhaled. Nothing was wrong. Tierney was just taking her time getting ready.

He had half expected her to call things off this past week. Every time he woke to see her staring down at him, her features wary, he wanted to ask her if she truly wanted to wed. But it would make him sound doubtful, and he was definitely not doubtful. Kenan wanted nothing else but to wake up next to Tierney every morning for the rest of his life and see what unexpected thing would pop from her rose-hued lips. He loved to watch her talking with Maggie, her little self. She treated her daughter with such respect, as if everything she said was important. Tierney would never disregard the thoughts and feelings of her children.

And in bed, Tierney was adventurous. Even though she wasn’t a virgin, she’d known little of pleasure, and Kenan was determined for her to feel every ounce of sweet torture and release he could wring from her. Och, but life with her would never be boring again. He smiled just thinking about it and quickly adjusted his cock through his plaid.

A man trotted up the hill, and Tomas intercepted him, taking a folded paper.

“A note from yer father, Cy?” Kenan asked. “Wishing me wedded bliss?”

Rory snorted.

“If my father sends a message,” Cyrus said, “’twill be some poorly written threat of war.” Hamish Mackinnon was still feeling poorly, but a letter from Grace the day before said he was improving. Kenan would not wish ill on his friend’s father, but Hamish’s old vengeance made peace difficult. And he controlled a large section of territory on the Isle of Skye.

“Maybe ’tis a response to Tierney’s letter about the Lord of the Isles Council,” Kenan said.

Tomas ran over but stopped before Kenan instead of Cyrus. “Message from Eilean Donan.”

All eyes turned first to Tomas and then to Kenan. He looked at the seal, the fist holding a tri-cross identical to the one he wore on his own finger, the Macdonald family crest. “Gilbert.”

Kenan broke it and unfolded the crisp sheet.

First Day of September in the year of our Lord 1544

Kenan Macdonald of Sleat

This is notice that I, Gilbert Macdonald, have started a new sect of Macdonalds on the Isle of Skye. The land along Trotternish is now part of my territory, which will encompass Scorrybreac. I have the full backing of Clan Matheson as well as the Macdonalds from Islay Isle. Any resistance you devise will be met with force, and it will be civil war. Keep to the Sleat Peninsula, Brother, and your brazen angel will continue to breathe.

Chief Gilbert Macdonald

A prickle slid along Kenan’s spine as his blood shot through him, readying his body for war. “Tierney,” he said, the letter dropping from his hand as he ran down the hill toward the castle. There was cursing and loud questions behind him, but all he could focus on was getting to Tierney. His legs churned through the tall grasses and bobbing daisies, his arms pumping at his sides.

Your brazen angel will continue to breathe. Gilbert wrote it as if he held her captive.

Were Mathesons in Dunscaith Castle or sneaking through the streets of the village? Had Ranulf and Gilbert already taken her? But her mother had just emerged moments ago. The questions bombarded him, and he breathed deeply, pushing them away. He could only focus on getting to her, holding her, seeing her safe.

Kenan ran, his well-conditioned heart giving him all the blood and energy he needed to get there as fast as humanly possible. He barely felt the ground beneath his feet.

“What’s going on?” Douglas MacNicol asked as Kenan skidded into the bailey.

“Good Lord,” Fannie said, clinging to her husband’s arm.

But Kenan didn’t stop, didn’t even slow. Tierney! He flew through the open doors and across the Great Hall. Up the stairs he thumped toward the bedchamber. “Tierney!” he yelled.

He caught the frame of the door, swinging inside the room. It was as if a cannonball had shattered through the dressing table. The water pitcher and chairs were upended on the floor. Flowers and pins lay scattered across the rugs. Two of the thin drapes on the bed had been ripped down, the bed trampled as if someone ran across the smoothed quilts, one forgotten slipper in the tangle.

But Tierney wasn’t there.

A crown of flowers lay on the rug before the mirror.

I’ll be the one in a crown of bluebells tomorrow , she’d told him this last night when they parted, him celebrating and sleeping with his friends while she slept alone the night before the wedding.

“Daingead!” He spun around and ran out of the room, his gaze flying both ways along the corridor. Where would Gilbert take her first? Because it hadn’t been long.

Rory and Cyrus met him on the stairs. “She’s not in the bedchamber,” Kenan said. “Have the ship who brought the message stopped.”

“Already ordered,” Cyrus said. “I’ll check these rooms.” He ran down the corridor.

“Ye go to the roof,” Kenan ordered Rory and leaped down the stairs he’d just climbed.

They would drag her down.

There was no escape going up. Kenan’s feet barely touched the steps. He used his hands braced on the walls to keep him from tumbling.

Focus, daingead! He needed to control the rising panic within him. In battle, he achieved total concentration by taking emotion out of it. There were only those who must be stopped and those who were trying to kill him. Ranulf was both of those, because losing Tierney would kill him.

His churning legs brought him to the bottom where a single table had been erected for the workers who were still scrubbing the walls of the Great Hall. The grayness from light filtering through empty windows and the tang of burned furniture and tapestries added to the grisly, hollow feeling of the room. And it was empty. If Tierney were there, she’d be fighting and screaming.

Kenan ran through the archway toward the still-intact kitchen. Its reinforced wall had kept the fires from the Great Hall. He ran toward the open door.

“’Tis a trap!” Tierney’s yell ended in the sound of a small yelp.

Rage, hot and all-consuming rose up in Kenan, but he made himself slow and think. He wouldn’t let her warning be given in vain. His sword was already drawn, but he re-sheathed it. He picked up speed again and then fell back onto his hip, letting the momentum slide him through the kitchen doorway.

Ranulf’s blade whizzed over Kenan’s head as he brought it around with enough force to decapitate him if he’d been standing. Ignoring the bruising on his hip from the stone step he’d slid down, Kenan leaped up, unleashing his sword.

Ranulf spun toward him, delivering another blow, but Kenan deflected it. He wanted to look for Tierney, see if she was hurt, but he couldn’t look with Ranulf baring down on him with slash after frenzied slash. The man’s face was bright red, spittle on his snarling mouth. He was out of control.

“Sneaking into Dunscaith to steal Tierney away.” Kenan ducked and kicked Ranulf backward with his boot to his gut. “Ye’ll lose yer foking head today.”

“Ye were meant to die that night at Eilean Donan!” Ranulf yelled as he straightened, holding his sword out as he sucked in large amounts of air.

“Murdoc wants Dunscaith, too?” Kenan asked. Daingead! He couldn’t see Tierney.

Ranulf snorted and wiped his upper arm across his sweaty brow. “Not my weak brother. He wants peace like ye. Gilbert and I were going to kill ye at the ferry. We had men waiting there for when ye left.”

If Tierney hadn’t interfered, and they’d have left out the front of Eilean Donan, they’d have been attacked in the dark, probably by twice the number of men or more.

“Tierney?” Kenan called without looking.

“I am well,” she said from somewhere behind him. The slight slur in her speech didn’t sound well, but she was there, and she was conscious.

Bursting fury at whatever was causing the swollen sound in her voice made Kenan lunge toward Ranulf. The man got his sword up in time, and both swords struck so they were face to face between crossed blades of steel. “Where’s Gilbert?” Kenan demanded, yelling in Ranulf’s contorted face.

But Ranulf didn’t answer. He didn’t have to, because Tierney screamed.