The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3) (22 page)

Life had been so much easier whilst on the continent. All he’d fashed over then was winning the next tournament or fighting the next battle. His path had been clear and his way unimpeded. How he longed for such simplicity once again.

Letting out a growl of frustration, he left the armory and headed for the bathing room. ’Twas well past the hour of None, and by tacit agreement, the ladies did their bathing before Sext, leaving the room clear for the men during the late afternoon. He hoped to find the chamber empty, for he had no wish to speak to anyone.

By the time Hunter made his way to the great hall, he’d managed to regain control over his emotions. He intended to take full advantage of the cook’s skill this eve, for ’twould be a se’nnight at least before he had aught but oatcakes and jerky. He took the stairs at a jog, to find the twins awaiting him in the great hall. For certes, their faces bespoke their mood. Both were unhappy. “What is it, lads?”

Owain kept his tone low. “We want to come with you on the morrow.”

“Lady Meghan needs our protection.” David nodded, his expression grim.

Hunter wrapped an arm around each of them, giving their shoulders a squeeze. “I appreciate your willingness to lend your sword arms, but I doubt your grandsire or your father would grant permission.”

“Lady Meghan needs us,” Owain protested. “We want to—”

“Have you sensed this?” He scrutinized the two. “Have either of you had a vision of what is to come?”

“No visions,” Owain admitted, “just a general sense of impending trouble.”

“Nay, lads. You both need to remain here until such time that you return to the Sutherlands to complete your training. Tieren and I will look after her.”

Hunter caught sight of Meghan out of
the corner of his eye. His breath hitched. She wore the blue gown again, the one that brought out the creaminess of her complexion and the shine in her hair. ’Twas his favorite. “The lady awaits our company, lads, and I am hungry.” He aimed them both toward the table. “If you will allow it, I wish to share a trencher with her this eve. I must tell Meghan of a few changes in our plans.”

“Hunter . . .” David’s mouth turned down.
“
’Tis our last night with her, whilst you will spend the next se’nnight in her company.”

“I have much to do.” He let go of them. “I will leave her in your care after we sup.”

That seemed to brighten their moods. Sky and her little sisters came down the stairs. Hunter tried to catch her eye. She refused to look his way. He really needed to go about this wooing business in an entirely different manner.

They sat at the trestle table before the hearth, since this was an informal meal with only kin in attendance. Servants carried platters out from the kitchen, and Allain bore a pitcher of ale. The lad’s sullen expression brought a smile to Hunter’s face. “Are you still sulking because I want you to remain here?”

“Aye, Sir Hunter.” Allain began filling the tankards already set at the table. “I should be with you.”

“No’ this time, lad. Tieren and I prefer that you and Tristan remain here. We dinna have our armor with us and will do well enough without pages and squires underfoot.” In truth, he didn’t want to put Allain in harm’s way again. Losing his squire at sea, and almost losing Allain on the way to Aberdeenshire, had been enough.

“Lady Meghan.” Hunter reached her just as she was taking a seat. “If it pleases you, I’d like to share your trencher.”

She shot him a questioning look. “All right.”

“There are a few changes in our plans for tomorrow, and I’d like to discuss them.” Just as Hunter took his place, the village horn sounded one tone. The doors to the great hall swung open, and one of their guards hurried through.

“Three strangers are on their way to the island, Sir Hunter.” He came to a halt before the trestle table. “Malcolm is at the landing and bids you remain in the hall to inform the earl. Malcolm and our guards will escort the visitors to the keep.”

Hunter could not imagine who it could be. Mayhap messengers from their neighbors. He had sworn to offer aid to Murray should he need it. They were kin though, and that would have been two tones. William appeared at the top of the stairs with Lydia and the rest of the ladies. Hunter glanced at them before turning back to the guardsman. “Do you have any idea who they might be?”

“Nay, Sir Hunter.”

“You may take your leave.” He gestured to one of the kitchen servants. “Bring three more tankards and a trencher or two. We have guests.” Hospitality was freely given in the Highlands, and three guests inside their well-guarded keep were no threat.

“Who comes, lad?” the earl asked, helping his wife to sit.

“I dinna ken, laird. There are three riding the ferry across the loch,” Hunter told him. “Malcolm happened to be close enough to the landing that he sent word. He will bring our visitors to us anon.”

“Where is Cecil?” Meghan tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, her tone low.

“He’s taking his meal with the garrison.”

Robley and his family arrived just as the doors to the keep swung open once more. Malcolm strode forward, trailed by the three strangers. One of the three was an elder. His hair and full beard were completely silver, yet he still possessed a vigorous demeanor and erect posture. He was flanked by two younger men. Their scabbards were empty, as were the sheaths at their waists. Their weapons would have been left at the guardhouse at the portcullis.

“Welcome,” the earl’s voice boomed. “Who might you be, and what brings you to Moigh Hall?”

“My lords.” The elder stepped forward and bowed. “I am Edward of clan MacConnell, and these are two of my sons.”

Hunter’s heart slammed into his ribs.
MacConnell?
He reached for Meghan’s hand where it lay on her lap. Gripping it in his, he clung to her as a ship held fast to its moorings.

“Welcome,” William said. “What brings you to Moigh Hall?”

Edward’s gaze fixed upon the earl. “We seek a MacConnell lad. He’d be about three and twenty now. His mother Joan was a MacKintosh, wedded to Mahon, a MacConnell. Mahon disappeared before his bairn was born, but Joan sent word to me that she had a son. She named him Alastair after his grandsire, the baron DúnConnell. I’ve heard naught from Joan since.” His gaze never left the earl.

Malcolm rested his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together. “What makes you think the lass you speak of came here? MacKintosh holdings are many and stretch the entire river to Inverness.”

“
’Twas I who escorted her to the village on the mainland so many years ago.” Edward’s tone was firm. “I and my men looked after and protected her from the moment Mahon disappeared. She came to live with me and my wife for a time, until she insisted upon returning to Loch Moigh to be with her widowed mother. Aideen, I believe her ma was called. Her ma was the village midwife, and Joan wanted to be near her when her time came.”

“What would your business be with the man you seek?” Hunter’s voice reverberated through the hall. As one, the three MacConnells turned their attention to him.

Edward canted his head, one side of his mouth turning up. “You’ve your mother’s coloring, lad, but in every other way you are the spitting image of your father.”

“Impossible.” Beads of sweat covered Hunter’s forehead, and he couldn’t draw enough air to fill his lungs. “My mother was a commoner. She could no’ have wed a baron’s son.”

“Ah, but she did.” Sadness cloaked the older man. “My wife and I witnessed their vows. Your father was a friend to me and I to him.”

“A friend, you say. Yet you did naught to find out what became of me in three and twenty years? You claim I’m the grandson of baron DúnConnell?” Hunter shook his head. “There sits my father,” Hunter bit out, pointing to Malcolm. “
He
raised me.” He gestured to his family seated around the table. Their wide gazes darted back and forth between him and Edward as if watching a jousting tournament. “Here are my kin—the
only
kin I have ever kent for the whole of my life.”

Caught in a maelstrom of grief and confusion, he wanted to believe he was the baron’s heir, and yet he could not. “If what you say is true, why would my mother have taken me from my clan and home? Why would she have separated me from my birthright?” He tightened his grip on Meghan’s hand. She winced but didn’t pull away.

“Where is your mother, lad?” Edward’s eyes filled with regret. “Has she no’ told you the tale?”

“She and my granddam died when I was still a bairn,” he said, his voice breaking. “After all these years, I canna fathom why you would come for me now.”

Malcolm stepped around the table to stand at Hunter’s side. He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Mayhap this is a conversation best held in the privacy of the earl’s solar.”

“Aye.” William gestured to the empty benches. “Sit, lads. Share our supper, and then we’ll retire to my solar to sort it all out.”

“We would be most grateful for the meal.” Edward bowed again.

“If you will excuse me.” Hunter shot up, finally letting go of Meghan’s sorely abused fingers. “I need to clear my head.” Raking both hands through his hair, he strode toward the door. “I’ll join you . . . later.”

Mayhap once he was outside, he’d be able to draw breath. The rest of the foundation upon which he’d built his life fell into ruin beneath him, leaving him without a foothold upon solid ground.

The grandson of a baron?
Nay. ’Twas not possible. Hadn’t he hoped and prayed to be more than he was, of noble blood? And yet, the news gave him no pleasure. Instead, it stirred up all the hurt and abandonment he’d suffered as a lad.

Alastair.
Did he only imagine hearing his ma and granny calling him by that name? Faint images and even fainter memories swirled around in his head until he no longer recognized who he was.

Why had his clan ignored him for so long, and why did they seek him out now?

C
HAPTER TEN

M
eghan started to rise from her place at the long trestle table, intending to go after Hunter. She’d never seen him looking so lost or hurt before. It nearly broke her heart. He needed her. Being an outsider, she could lend an ear without judgment.

Malcolm stopped her. “Leave him be, Meg. He’ll be back once he’s had a chance to think things through.”

The MacConnells seated themselves at the table, and Edward sat opposite her. “Would you be Alastair’s wife then?”

“Uh . . .”

“His foster father and I named him Hunter.” True leaned forward to speak. “By the time we took him in, most of the clan had forgotten his name.”

“That he is of noble blood does no’ surprise me.” Malcolm once again took his place at the table. “He’s a fine man, a braw knight and an asset to our clan.” He winked at True. “Did I no’ say he would be?”

“Several times.” True patted his hand. “Malcolm, introduce everyone.”

Introductions were made, and food was served, but Meghan had lost her appetite. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the doors to the great hall. She didn’t need to be gifted to sense that Hunter was hurting. She flexed her hand and shook it out a few times. His viselike grip had nearly crushed her knuckles.

“Lady Meghan, you must eat.” David slipped into the seat beside her.

“Aye, my lady.” Owain pushed a trencher closer. “You will need your strength for the journey to Inverness.

“I’m going to miss you two,” she murmured, cutting off a piece of meat.

Owain heaped a pile of mashed turnips onto her trencher. “Then dinna leave.”

“Aye.” Davids eyes flew to hers. “I like it no’ that you mean to go on this journey without us. We both sense something amiss, but what awaits you is no’ clear. Stay here where my brother and I can protect you.” The twins nodded in tandem. “You have a home with the MacKintosh clan, my lady. You always will.”

“That is so sweet, but . . . I’ll have Tieren, Hunter and MacKintosh guards with me for protection along the way.” Her eyes stinging, she shook her head. Memories of what had happened with Allain and the villain who had meant to murder him flooded her mind. She couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to the twins. “I have to try to get back home. My family—”

“Wheesht, my lady,” Owain whispered, tilting his head toward their guests.

She nodded, turning again to watch the doors. How long would it take Hunter to cool down?

Once the meal ended, William stood. “To my solar, if it pleases you, Edward.”

“It does, though I dinna wish to say aught without young Alastair there. ’Tis him we’ve come to fetch. He’ll want to hear how and why he came to be with his ma’s clan and no’ his own, aye?”

“He’s called Hunter and has been since he was a bairn of but four.” Malcolm beckoned to Allain. “Go find your master, lad, and be quick about it. Tell him his presence is required in the laird’s solar.”

“Aye, my lord.” Allain bobbed his head even as he took off at a run.

Hunter’s family and the MacConnells made their way to the stairs leading to the floors above, and Meghan’s insides knotted. As much as she longed to find out what was going on, she had no business joining them. This was strictly family business, and she wasn’t family. She trailed after Robley and Erin, and when they veered right toward the stairs leading to the earl’s third-floor solar, she veered left, heading for her turret chamber.

“Wait, Lady Meghan!” Sky’s hurried footsteps echoed along the corridor. She grabbed Meghan’s arm to stop her. “Hunter will want you there.”

The jealousy she always felt around Sky flared, and she tried to squelch it before the younger woman could get a fix on her emotions. “I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “I’m not—”

“Hunter does no’ love me.” Exasperation laced Sky’s tone as she tugged on Meghan’s arm. “Surely
you
of all people ken as much.”

“No. I don’t.” Meghan huffed out a breath. Even if Sky was right, it didn’t make any difference. Hunter wouldn’t give up on the idea of marrying Sky. Besides, what business was it of hers? She would travel to Inverness, confront Madame Giselle and go home—where she belonged. “This is a personal matter, and I’m not a MacKintosh . . . or a MacConnell.”

“Think you none noticed my brother reached for you when he was overwrought?” Sky placed her hands on Meg’s shoulders and gave her a shake. “Do you no’ ken you’ve no reason for the animosity you hold toward me? Even if you’d never come to us, I would no’ marry Hunter. He is my brother, nothing more. He’s just too thickheaded to grasp what the rest of us can see so plainly.”

Her brow rose. “Which is?”

“He loves
you
, my lady. I sense it. My mother and Lady Erin sense it. Even wee Hannah Rose can see it is so. With the exception of my
halfwit of a
brother
, all of us ken the truth of the matter.”

Meghan had to smile at the tone Sky used while calling her foster brother a halfwit. She’d used the same tone when talking about her own brothers. “It doesn’t matter. I’m—”

“
’Tis obvious you love him as well.” Sky rolled her eyes. “God’s blood, but the MacKintosh are a stubborn lot, and I trow the McGladreys are as well.”

Love him?
She couldn’t deny it, so she said nothing at all.

Sky took Meghan’s hand. “Come, my lady. Hunter needs you. He’s always been plagued by doubt when it comes to his place in our clan.” She shook her head and sighed. “For all his prowess as a knight, he still carries a great deal of uncertainty within him—and anger. ’Tis a shame, really.” She glanced at Meghan over her shoulder. “He is most frightened of the very thing that could rid him of his insecurity.”

She couldn’t imagine Hunter being afraid of anything. “What would that be?”

“Why, giving his heart, of course.” Sky frowned as if she doubted Meghan had the wits to put two and two together. “Hunter is afraid of losing the rigid control he exerts over every aspect of his life. Why else do you think he wants to wed me? For pity’s sake,
I’m
his
sister
! ’Tis security and assurance he seeks. Nothing more. He feels no passion for me, nor do I feel aught but sisterly affection for him. I want my brother to be happy. He needs you. ’Tis certain this is why the faerie led him to you.”

Her stomach knotted. Could that really be the reason she’d come to this century? Had the faerie brought them together because Hunter needed her? There was no doubt the two of them were drawn to each other. He fought it, while she tried to hide it.

She should have realized everyone would be able to pick up on the attraction she and Hunter shared. At least now she knew for certain she hadn’t imagined his part of the equation. Still, what good did it do her? She had a place and a family across time, and the possibility of never seeing them again tore her to pieces. And if she couldn’t get home, Hunter might never admit he cared for her. Where would that leave her?

Brokenhearted and alone, that’s where. She didn’t want to marry Tieren. It wouldn’t be right, and the possibility that she might have to just to survive held no appeal. He deserved so much more than she could give him.

“Hunter will join us in the solar anon, and Edward only awaits his presence before beginning. I dinna wish to miss a single word of Edward’s tale. Do you no’ want to hear it told?”

“Sure.”

They reached the solar at the same time Hunter came up the back stairway. One glance at his face, and her heart slid into a downward spiral. He had a haunted look about him. His mouth was drawn into a tight line as his gaze darted from her to Sky and back again. Saying nothing, he opened the door for them.

Sky entered the room first. Meghan followed. A second before she crossed the threshold, Hunter’s hand came to rest at the small of her back. Even that slight touch sent a rush of longing through her. She wanted to turn around and wrap him up in her arms. The overwhelming need to comfort him stole her breath. Just as quickly, he took his hand away, leaving her bereft.

Benches from the great hall had been set around the room, and all were seated. Catching her attention, Sky patted the spot beside her where the women were situated. She settled herself next to True and Malcolm’s daughter. All the jealousy she’d felt toward Sky melted away. Maybe they could be friends after all.

As if sensing her feelings, Sky nudged her with her shoulder and sent her a warm smile. She smiled back. Of course Sky sensed her emotions. That’s what the MacKintosh did—some of them anyway.

Her gaze roamed to Hunter, only to find him staring at her. She nodded, trying to send him reassurance. He gave her a slight nod back.

“We would hear the reasons why Hunter’s mother took him from his birthright, and why you seek him now,” William said, taking his place at the scarred oak table that served as his desk.

Edward remained standing, his posture proud and straight, and his two sons flanked him. Both of the younger men remained stoic and silent. “I would have your word first, my lords, that naught said this eve shall leave this room. It is imperative.”

The earl glanced at Hunter, and then at Malcolm and Robley. They nodded their assent. “Lydia, my dear . . . ?”

“Of course we shall keep it to ourselves, my lord.” She arched a single brow at her husband, and a round of feminine head-bobbing ensued.

“What do you ken of your clan, lad?” Edward turned to Hunter, who leaned against the wall.

“I ken naught of the MacConnell clan,” he said, the muscles in his jaw twitching away.

Edward sighed, and his expression held regret. “The MacConnell clan once held all of the western seaboard of Scotia. We were a vast and great kingdom.” He scratched at his full beard. “Och, this next part you might find . . . difficult to accept. The first MacConnell, our founder, came here from Eire and wed one of the ancient ones, a
Tuatha Dé Danann
princess named Áine.”

When that bomb didn’t elicit an outcry, Edward gaped around the room. Poor guy. He had no way of knowing nearly half the people in the earl’s solar carried faerie genes.

“Go on,” Malcolm encouraged.

“The alliance gave us certain advantages, and for centuries we prospered. Our king’s progeny carried uncommon . . . abilities, as do many of their direct line to this day.” Again he peered around at the faces of those gathered as if gauging their reaction. “In the olden days, before Christianity came to our land, unions forged between the fae and the MacConnells were no’ uncommon. Many of our clan carry fae blood, but . . .”

“But?” Hunter sent the man a hard stare.

“But no’ our most recent laird, the old baron DúnConnell.” Edward’s tone held bitterness. “The gifts were strong in your da, and it caused quite a rift between father and son. Your grandsire Alastair was a devout man, hard and unyielding. He looked upon anything having to do with the fae or the old ways with distrust and hatred. He looked upon those possessing fae gifts as heretics. Your da and his father were estranged, and when your da wed your ma, the baron finally had an excuse to banish Mahon from the clan.”

“Yet my mother
named
me after him?” Hunter straightened off the wall, his hands fisted at his sides.

“Aye. Joan was a spirited lass.” Edward’s mouth turned up in a brief smile. “I believe ’twas an act of defiance on her part. She claimed the baron as your grandsire, whilst the baron denied her very existence.”

Raking his fingers through his hair, Hunter growled deep in his throat. His eyes narrowed. “You said
was
. The baron
was
a hard man.”

“Aye. You have it aright. He has passed.” Edward looked around the room, meeting each of the men’s eyes in turn. “His eldest and middle sons died years ago. Young Alastair . . . er . . .
Hunter
is the last remaining heir in the baron’s direct line. He is our clan’s laird and our liege lord, and we’ve come to bring him home.”

Hunter moved to one of the benches and dropped down. He’d gone pale, and emotions played across his face in rapid succession. Disbelief, anger and grief were plain to see. “No’ a word have I heard in all these years, and now you tell me . . .” He shook his head. “I’m a baron?”

“At the time, all who loved you thought it best you remain here where the baron’s hatred could no’ touch you.” Edward sent Hunter a pleading look. “None kent how far old Alastair would go in his zealousness to rid the clan of fae influence. I escorted your ma here for her safety. I left you here thinking I’d done the best I could for you.”

“There’s more.” True stood, her face ashen. “You must tell us all.”

Edward’s gaze flew to her. He studied her intently, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Aye. There’s more, my lady. Our holdings are but a small portion of what we once held, but they are rich in resources. We are surrounded on all sides by the MacKenzies, who wish to destroy us and steal what is ours. We’ve been harried, raided, ambushed and under siege for more than a decade. The baron and his eldest son were both murdered by the accursed MacKenzies. We canna survive without a strong laird to lead us.”