Page 26 of The Thief (Castle Blackstone #3)
Howling wind and the faint but familiar thud and whoosh of waves crashing on shore rousted Ian from sleep. He opened his eyes, wondering why they should feel so gritty and his mouth feel so dry and coated, and blinked at the familiar stenciled-and-beam ceiling directly above him. He turned his head to look at the plaster-and-stone walls and shuttered window, recognizing the elaborate tapestry flanking it.
Now how the hell had he come to be in Siar Dochas’s round solar?
Intent on finding out, he rolled to get out of bed and came to a groaning halt. Not because Katie lay slumbering and fully clothed at his side, but because his chest, shoulders and back hurt like hell.
“Humph.” Something was very wrong. Kate, his lovely...
Ack! It all came rushing back; leaving Kate, going to the Tower, speaking with James and Campbell, the guard grabbing him and the ensuing fight, the brutal beating he received at the hands of the Tower guards, the rack and the agony of his joints coming apart, his limbs being slowly torn from his body, the agony of Kate’s father putting his arms back in place, their escape into a dingy, and then...nothing.
He reached for Katie and found his left arm wrapped from bicep to palm. Humph! He threw back the furs covering him and found his left foot in similar shape. His middle was swathed in bandages.
Deciding he’d best take a careful inventory of his body, he rolled his shoulders, took deep breaths, wiggled toes--and came away for the experiment none too happy but without grievous complaints. He was sore to be sure but whole and alive.
He gave Kate’s shoulder a gentle shake. “Katie?”
She jolted awake. “Ian!” Her hands clasped his cheeks and she kissed him soundly then pulled back as if not believing her eyes. “Oh, thank God. Talk to me. Are you in pain?”
Seeing her eyes grow glassy, he managed a grin. “Just sore, but glad to see you.” Very glad, in fact. “How did we come to be here? Last I recall you dropped me without warning into a dingy.”
Kate blushed to a pretty pink. “Yes, I did.” As she started rushing through the tale of their rescue he slowed her down, anxious to hear every detail.
“So Home still believes you to be a French widow that I was dallying with?”
Kate huffed, “Apparently. ”
Good news to be sure. The fewer that knew Kate was English the safer she would be, particularly with his clan.
Overwhelmed by love, gratitude, and regret that she’d had to endure all that she had, he kissed her forehead and then tried to pull her close but his ribs protested. He had to settle for simply stroking her arm. “Thank you. If not for your bravery and” he tapped her nose “your blessed stubbornness, I’d be dead.”
She tapped his nose in turn and wiggled closer. “You’re most welcome.”
Would he ever understand this woman fully? Deciding it wasn’t likely, and still wanting to know how they had come to be in the far Highlands, he said, “Tell me why we’re here.”
“Captain Home took us into Edinburgh, but hearing what had happened at Harlaw, he decided you’d be safest here.”
The hairs at the back of his neck bristled. “What happened at Harlaw?”
Katie took his right hand in hers. “War, Ian. I don’t know the details, just that it was a large and bloody confrontation and that your liege, Angus, is dead, as are many others. Your poor sister...so many are grieving here.”
Ian’s heart, already racing with the news of war, began to hammer. “My brother Shamus?”
Kate placed her hand on his cheek. “He’s fine. Just bruised and weary. ”
Incredulous and sick that the fragile, spider web peace he’d been diligently spinning and nurturing for years had been rent, Ian asked, “When was this?”
“A fortnight ago.”
God’s teeth! A fortnight? “Help me up.”
Kate caught her lower lip between her teeth and shook her head. “I don’t think so. You’re not ready.”
“I am!” Ignoring the pain, he rolled onto his left side and Kate scrambled off the bed. “Just stand firm, Katie, and let me use you for leverage.”
Looking none too sure that he was sane, much less ready to go about, Kate held out her arms.
He managed to sit but the room began to spin. Keeping him balanced, Kate handed him a tankard. “Drink. Mr. Bones swears by it.”
Knowing Bones had a magical way with herbs, Ian drained the tankard. Waiting for the bitter drink to take whatever effect it might, Ian’s mind raced through the possibilities that could have initiated the strife. Most pressing was learning who was involved and if it was ongoing. Should it be, he needed to get to the fractious liege lords as soon as possible. His confrontation with Albany would just have to wait.
Feeling a bit better, Ian took hold of both Kate’s arms and rose. The moment his feet hit the floor searing pain shot up his left leg. “Ack.”
“Please, Ian, let me fetch Shamus.”
Ian shook his head. He needed to get to the long house where he would hear multiple versions of the battle, where his sister no doubt sat nursing her broken heart instead of being in this chamber where she belonged. Which was another confusion he had yet to fathom.
“Kate, stand to my right.” When she did, grumbling all the way, he draped his arm over her shoulder and took a tentative step, putting as little weight on his left foot as possible.
He blew through his teeth. ‘Twas doable.
Halfway across the room, he mustered a grin. “Like ol’ times, huh, Katie?”
Carrying a good bit of his weight, Kate mumbled, “Not the least humorous, MacKay. You should be abed until your bones knit.”
“Trust me, I would be and with you naked beside me had I the luxury, Katie, but I don’t.”
Kate pulled open the door and they were immediately hit with a damp, buffeting wind, heavy with the scent of salt and rain. He took a deep breath. Home.
By sheer will they managed to cross the grassy spot separating the liege house from the long house, beneath which the MacKays wintered their cattle, above which lived many of their clan.
After taking the first of the four stairs fronting the whitewashed long house, Ian began having second thoughts about not allowing Kate to fetch Shamus. By the top, he seriously regretted it.
As Kate reached for the elaborately carved door, Ian removed his arm from her shoulder and straightened. Wouldn’t do, after all, to have the clan see him leaning on a lass.
Stepping inside he was assaulted by the scents of roasting mutton, fresh sea grass mats and warm bodies. All turned, growing quiet as they looked, realizing who stood in their midst. Then voices rose in welcome and everyone rushed forward to greet him, his sister and Shamus in the fore.
“Ian!” His sister, a good foot shorter than he, wrapped her arms about his waist and pressed her face against his chest. “We’ve been so worried.”
He lifted Mary Kelsea’s chin with a finger so he might look into her dark chestnut eyes and found dark circles and creases, stark evidence of her grief. “I’m so very sorry for your loss, dearest, so very sorry.”
She took a shuddering breath, her tears pooling but remaining trapped within the confines of her thick, blond lashes. “He died as he had wished with sword in hand.”
Aye, better by the sword than dying old, lonely and riddled with pain, he supposed, yet still...
Shamus murmured, “Come, sit. We’ve much to tell ye.”
Ian leaned on Shamus as they made their way to the long table at the center of the opposite wall. Shamus pulled out the center bench and Ian sat, his sister to his immediate left and Shamus settling to his right. Frowning, Ian nudged his brother. “Slide down and make room for Kate.”
Shamus looked at him as if he was daft. “Since when does a coigreach sit next to the laird?”
Ian gaped at his brother. “Laird? Not I.”
“Aye, you. Angus wanted it. You know the lairdship passes to John, but being too wee, you, as his eldest maternal uncle, take stewardship, and they,” he waved to the assembled clan “have already voted their unanimous agreement.”
Oh, shit.
He was now the laird of the clan MacKay. Aye, he’d always wanted a lairdship, had hopes that Seabhagnead would be the foundation for building his own sept, but that was to be years into the future when Scotland was stable and secure.
He looked about and found anxious faces from one end of the long house to the other. All expected him to immediately take the helm, make life not only livable but as secure and pleasant as nature, opportunity and his ingenuity would allow.
Not wanting to say the words but honor bound he murmured, “’Tis my honor.”
The room erupted with the clamor of applause and banging fists on tables. Too soon for Ian’s comfort the men, many wounded, rose and came forth to pledge their fealty. As he acknowledged each one he couldn’t help but notice all that were missing: Big Red, Connor, Kendrick, Hamish, Tyree, Glen, Tavish, Johnny, Clem, Wee Robbie, Erik the Tall, Drum and so many more. As the last came before him he looked about for Katie and found her standing by the door looking at the floor, her expression inscrutable.
When the last man returned to his seat, Ian levered himself to his feet. “Kate, please come here.”
Heads turned in her direction to watch her approach. When she stood before him, he told his clan, “This woman saved my life twice in as many days. I hope she will pay me the honor of dining at this table.”
There were a few surprised Ohs here and there but most just smiled. He waggled his fingers at her to come and she did, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment.
As the wine was poured, Ian slid down to make room for Kate betwixt himself and Shamus rather than push his sister to the side. ‘Twas bad enough that he was now expected to lay in the bed that Mary Kelsea had called hers for the past four years.
To Shamus he said, “Tell me what happened at Harlaw and how it started.”
Shamus related what he had seen and heard at Stirling immediately after Ian’s disappearance, and Ian’s temper rose. By the time his brother finished telling him about his confrontation with the Donald, every profanity Ian knew sat perched at the tip of his tongue.
“Then what happened?”
“I told Angus, the MacDougall chieftains and then Albany, and we rode for home. By the time we got back here, word had already spread far and wide that Donald had torched Inverness and was heading for Dingwall. There, he ran into trouble and had to hie off.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Then?”
“He sent word for the clans to unite behind him. He was heading for Aberdeen.”
Ian’s patience, already frayed, strained to the breaking point. Praying he wasn’t about to hear what he knew in his heart he would hear, he asked, “And the MacKays went where to join whom?”
“We joined the Donald just north of Aberdeen.”
“God’s teeth, Shamus!” Ian was on his feet. “Ye joined a friggin’ uprising?”
Shamus rose, his hands balled into fists. “Angus said we ride with our own. Ye understand how it is!”
“But Donald was in the wrong . He’s a selfish prick and well you know it! Good men died for naught! Albany will win in the end!”
Shamus stuck a finger in Ian’s face. “Right or not I couldn’t join Albany and Mar and kill my own clansmen.”
“ Albainn bheadarrach —-Beloved Scotland...before all!”
“Are ye calling me a traitor? ”
“If the boot fits—-”
They lunged for each other. Before either could land a blow, Kate bolted to her feet and pressed her hands against their chests. Her elbows locked, she shouted, “Enough! The pair of you! These good people are in mourning. Who on earth cares who is right or wrong? It’s over!”
The room went deathly quiet.
All eyes swung from the combatants to Kate. One by one the clan began murmuring, “English? Pockpud. English?” Then someone shouted, “Aye, Sassenach!”
“Ah, shit .” Ian swept Kate behind him with his good arm and then jerked Shamus’s dirk from his belt.
As his clansmen--their anger apparent in their red faces--rose, benches fell backward and women keened, Ian hissed, “Brother, I need your help here.”
Shamus’s claymore sang as it came free of its sheath. Broadsword pointed at the advancing crowd, he hissed out of the side of his mouth, “What the hell goes on here, Ian?”
Sensing he had only a heartbeat to explain, Ian shouted, “Clan MacKay, hear me out!” As the room quieted marginally, he continued, “I’ve told you this woman saved my life not once but twice. Her name is Katherine Margarita Templeton, not Campbell. Aye, she is English, but she’s been in service to our King James I of Scotia for some five years.”
The shouting dropped to a murmur at the mention of their king. After silently thanking God and his people’s good sense, Ian continued, “She came to Scotland because she knew a ransom had been issued for James’s return and couldn’t understand--any more than our king can--why we hadn’t ransomed him.”
Shouts of “Nay!” and “‘Tis not true, there hasn’t been a ransom demand!” rang about the long house .
“‘Tis true!” Ian shouted back. He took a deep breath. “Please sit and listen and I shall tell you the whole sordid tale.”
With much grumbling and banging, the clan finally took their seats, all facing forward.
“I head that the English had demanded a ransom,” Ian told them, “but not believing it either I went to the Tower to speak to James. To hear it with my own ears.”
Someone shouted, “How is that possible? The Tower is a massive, armed fort.”
Ian smiled sheepishly. “I went in dressed as a woman.”
Hoots followed the embarrassing admission. Even his brother looked at him strangely.
“I cut a destrier’s tail off, braided it, stole this fine lady’s cape, reddened my lips with raspberry and then dressed as her,” he indicated Kate “made my way into the Tower.”
Kate’s head poked out from behind him. Her eyes as big as an owl’s, she said, “You did not! ”
“I most certainly did.” As she scooted out from behind him, he told the now-enthralled crowd who thrived on details, “James is nearly a man now. Too thin and pale for my liking, but solid of bone and of medium height. He is being well educated thanks to Kate here and her father. Campbell, on the other hand, has aged terribly.”
“What is it like? The cell he’s kept in?” someone shouted .
“He and Campbell are kept a suite of three rooms, not one, in what the pock—uhmm...English call the Bell Tower, for ‘tis round and has a belfry.” He described the barren stone, the worn carpet and narrow, unglazed windows. “There’s furniture enough--more than most of you have—-and an inglenook opposite the door, outside which sits a guard day and night. James is taken out for walks within a walled bailey on good days.” He didn’t know this to be true but reasoned it would ease his clansmen’s worried minds. “He’s dressed well enough but not as he would be were he home. But the saddest part: he has grown angry thinking we’ve forgotten him.”
Voices immediately rose in denial, and Ian raised his good arm to silence them. “Aye, I told him as much. Told him we’re saving coins, keeping him in our prayers. I then asked if it were true that a ransom demand had been made. He told me that aye, he’d signed the bottom of the missive himself as proof that he was still alive. That the ransom demand had been sent to Stirling four years past.”
The room exploded, and Ian waited, understanding their anger. When the room finally quieted, he continued, “I swore before leaving him that I would find out who received Henry’s demand and see that all within the realm knew it.”
He took a deep breath, his memories of his incarceration still vivid. “‘Twas on the way out that they nabbed me. I was beaten, put on the rack and then thrown into a cell. That’s where Kate found me and took me out under the cover of darkness.” He looked at her and smiled. “She saved my life and in doing so became a traitor to her own king and country.”
“Why did she do it?” someone in the corner shouted.
His clansmen were acting as if he were telling some bard’s fairy tale.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her?”
Shouts erupted for Kate to come forth and speak.
Clutching her hands before her, Kate asked in Gael, “What would you like to know?”
“Why do you care about our king?” one man asked.
Deciding on a half-truth, she said, “I’ve watched him grow as an aunt might and know him well.”
They thought on that and then someone asked, “And Ian? You didn’t watch him grow.”
“Umm...he has a lovely smile and a way with words.”
“What words, mistress?” a dark-eyed young miss asked, her wistful gaze on Ian.
“Let me think...’ shit ,’ ‘ damn’ and ‘ I’m going to kill ye, Katie’ immediately come to mind.”
The room erupted into laughter, and she looked over her shoulder to find Ian scarlet and shaking his finger at her.
“Do you deny it?”
“Nay.”
Kate faced the crowd again and shrugged, as if to say I told ye so . “Truthfully, he has been most kind.”
A man shouted, “So how and when did ye meet?”
“The MacDougall’s ladywife introduced us about a month ago.” A month was stretching the truth but Kate felt like she’d known and loved Ian since birth.
One woman suddenly pointed to the pendant about her neck. “Lauds, she wears his mother’s cross!”
Not liking the woman’s accusatory tone, Kate looked at Ian just as he stepped forward and wrapped his free arm about her. The room erupted again.
Someone shouted, “Nay! You cannot!”
Another shouted, “But she’s a Sassenach!”
Soon the words just ran together in one violent, shouting melee.
The man she’d come to know in the last week as Kyle thumped his tankard on the table and bellowed, “Silence!” When the crowd hushed, he turned to Ian and said, “’Tis true, my liege. You cannot take the Sassenach, an Englishwoman, to wife now that your laird. ’Twouldn’t be right.”
Ian glared at Kyle and then at all those before them. “I can. The MacDougall married a Sassenach. The Davidson married an Englishwoman. Even one of our kings married one.”
“And look where that got us!” someone roared from the back.
A frail old man at the far end of the table stood and banged his tankard on the table and suddenly the room quieted. To Kate he said, “Lass, you are bonnie, there is no denying it, so we can readily see what our laird finds so appealing in you. You’re also quick-witted and no doubt as brave as any of us could ever hope to be if all that MacKay has said is true, but the fact remains that Ian is our liege now and needs to marry within his own kind...for the security of the clan and our way of life.”
He ambled closer, looked deep into her eyes, and Kate felt a momentary jolt, recognizing a kindred spirit. My God, he’s fey! Just as she, but truly powerful. And he was telling her to go, if she loved Ian. To just go .
Her throat, already tight, closed with the knowledge that the old man in tattered plaid with a bulrush pinned to his crookedly donned cap was right. With tears burning their way to the fore, she silently agreed.
“Nay!” Ian shouted. “I take ye, Katherine Templeton, to wife. I take ye, Katherine Templeton, to wife. I take—-”
Kate spun and pressed her right hand over Ian’s mouth, preventing him from finishing the pledge. Said three times before three clansmen they would be handfast for a year and a day, or so James had told her.
When he reached up to pull her hand away, Shamus grabbed his wrist with both hands. “She’s right, Ian, and well you know it.”
As he struggled against his brother, Kate’s tears spilled. “Shhh, Ian, listen . I will not take your destiny from you. I did not give up all that I hold dear to see you throw your life away. Aye, I love you and will no doubt die loving you, but love is not enough to sustain a man with naught else. A man needs work, he needs purpose, the respect of his peers. He needs the love of his people and you will not have that if I stay at your side.”
Heart shattering, Kate lifted the cross from her neck, kissed it and hooked it on to the bit of wood sticking out beneath the dressing on his left arm. “I love you too much to destroy you, Ian MacKay.”
She then turned and walked the length of the table. The people, silent, parted as she, tears streaming unchecked, headedfor the door and an uncertain future.
“ Kate! ” Ian’s shout echoed off the rafters. “If you dare set foot out that door I swear I’ll hunt you down if it takes me a lifetime!”
She stopped. Why did he not just cut out her heart and eat it? With her back still to him, she said, “You’ll never find me.”
“You’re running, tail betwixt your legs, to your Nana’s, Kate.”
She had been thinking of doing that very thing. Nana would hold her, rock her, reassure her that everything would be alright—provided she could remember who Kate was. “Nay, Ian, you’re wrong. I’m heading for Cove. I need a horse and hope to steal yours...again.”
“God damn it, Kate! Don’t you even think on it!”
“You can’t stop me, Ian. Not in your condition.” She had only to take a few more steps and she’d be cloaked in night, where she could fall apart in privacy. “Good-bye and God be with you, my love. ”
She took those few steps and pulled the door open and suddenly it was jerked from her grasp and slammed back into its frame.
She looked at the hand before her eyes, the one that had touched her so intimately, and whispered, “Why are you doing this to me? Leave me my pride, Ian, for God’s sake, leave me my pride.”
Panting from the effort it had taken for him to come to her side, he rested his head against hers. “I will not let you go. Not now, not ever.” He raised his head and asked his people, “Is there any among you now who still believes this woman is not worthy of the name MacKay?”
Consumed by pain, Kate wanted nothing more than escape, would have welcomed death if only it would stand before her. Already knowing their answer, she pulled frantically on the door latch. “If this is some ghastly test you need to know--”
In a taut whisper, Ian said, “Nay. ‘Tis life and death. Yours and mine. For they now know I will not be liege without you.”
Kate’s blood, once sluggish with grief, roared to life. “But you’re their laird. They can not—-“
“They not only can but have in the past. Let them ponder on what they’ve just witnessed.”
“Merciful saints pre--”
“Katie, shhh. Listen. Listen to the silence.”
She did as she searched Ian’s eyes, not understanding. She then turned. Everyone was smiling at her including the old man in tattered plaid. Why?
They rose and started clapping and cheering.
Her insides quaking, she grabbed Ian’s sleeve. “What’s happening?”
His finger hooked beneath her chin. Totally confused, she looked at him and found him grinning like a golden God, deep dimples softening his normally chiseled countenance.
“I take ye, Katherine Margarita Templeton, to wife. That makes three.” Ian’s lips came down on hers in most possessive fashion. Once he had successfully drained her of any and all sense, he lifted his mouth from hers and whispered, “Did you honestly think I would let you go, Lady MacKay, without you experiencing kits in a basket?”
Heart soaring in understanding, still not believing the joyful smiles and hugs suddenly being thrust upon her, Kate clutched Ian’s hand as someone brought him a stool to sit on and his people came forward to welcome her into the clan MacKay.
All were wishing them a joyful life and several of the men winked when they wished them many children. When the old man in tattered plaid finally stood before her, Kate took his dry, gnarled hands in hers. Knowing he was ever so much more powerful a fey than she, she silently asked, Did you do this?
He smiled at her. Nay, I cannot bend any to my will anymore than you can. We who see too much can only advise and hope. Only you and he, by showing them the true depth of your love, could erase their fears.
Despite his denial in helping them, she gave his hands a gentle squeeze. Thank you.
At her side Ian grinned. “Ah, you sense a kindred soul. Katie, please make the acquaintance of our draoi , our wise man, Belfour MacKay. I’ve never had need to call on him but most swear he works magic.”
Belfour, his eyes sparkling with merriment, brought her right hand to his lips. Ah, lass, how often their ignorance is bliss.
Belfour, what of James and Albany’s futures?
Instead of answering, he took Ian’s hand. “My heartiest well wishes for the pair of you, my liege. May you prosper and multiply like the hares on our grassy plains.”
Ian laughed. “Belfour, you’re in obvious need of a ladywife.”
Letting go of Ian’s hand, Belfour grinned. “Nay, this rowdy clan is more than enough wife and family for this old man.”
He kissed Kate’s cheek and silently told her, Much heartache and disappointment awaits him, lass, but he has you now to balance the evil he has yet to face.
He walked away and Kate, her gaze following him, asked, But that is not what—
Sweet dreams, lass, and go forth and multiply for Scotia will be in sore need one day.
Ian tugged on her hand. “Love, I’m growing weary. Let us hie off to bed, shall we? ”
Realizing she would not be getting the answers she sought from Belfour this day, Kate heaved a resigned sigh and smiled at Ian. “For kits in a basket, my lord?”
He flashed his glorious dimples at her. “Woman, have I ever told you that I truly love how you think?”