Highland Moonlight (40 page)

face then went to his father’s.

Collin’s blue gaze remained bland. “Of course I could not turn away my

son’s men to freeze in the snow, Alexander, nor would Bearach.”

Alexander chose his words carefully. “Having so great an

understanding of duty, you will respect the oath I have given to Anne that she

shall remain under my protection until she decides to take her leave.”

Mary’s hand rested on his thigh beneath the table in silent

communication. Anne’s gaze moved to Alexander’s face and a look of relief

swept her features though she appeared pale.

Collin’s brows drew together in a frown. “Her place is at Lochlan now

she has no guidesman.”

“As she has mentioned herself, now she is a widow, she has no duty

to anyone, but herself,” Alexander said with a shrug. “I have a duty to protect

and provide for her now she is part of my clan, as Mary’s sister. But of

course, you may be able to persuade her differently.”

Collin turned red in the face. “‘Twas not your place to give such an

oath.”

His patience at an end with bating the older man, Alexander

suppressed his irritation with an effort. “Once an oath is given, ‘tis difficult to

rescind. Mayhap you will have better luck persuading Anne to change her

mind, than you did Mary. In any case, I have given my pledge and only Anne

may release me from it,” he repeated, his tone even.

****

became more exuberant as the dancing began. Mary grew restless as the

ache in her back intensified and her chair became more and more

uncomfortable.

“‘Tis grateful I am, Alexander,” Anne offered from close beside her. “Ian

was a good man and a kind husband, but I will not be bartered into

marriage again,” she declared, her tone adamant as her gaze fastened on

her father.

Collin’s gaze narrowed. “‘Tis a woman’s place to wed and bring

bairns into the world.”

“Aye,” Anne agreed. “And I shall wed again and have many bairns,

Collin, with whomever I choose. I have done my duty by you, and your clan. I

owe you nothing more.” She turned away and stalked away from the table to

be swallowed up by the crowd.

Mary bowed her back, her fingers kneading the taunt muscles to ease

her discomfort. Alexander turned to her, concern in his expression. Mary

offered him a reassuring smile. “‘Tis but a wee ache from walking about too

much. I must go to our chamber for a short while.” He rose to accompany

her, but Mary waved him back down. “You must stay and watch over Collin

and Bearach. I do not trust them.”

The pain had eased by the time she reached her chamber. Of late,

she had experienced so many odd discomforts, she shrugged this current

one aside. It would do her no harm to lie down for a few moments.

Removing her shoes, she stretched out and covered herself with the tartan

fabric at the foot of the bed. The music below, though barely discernable,

provided a comforting beat as she drew deep breaths to relax the tension

from her body.

****

said dryly.

Alexander’s attention fell on the rotund man speaking with her, his lips

curling as Anne shook her head in an adamant gesture.

“Nor will David,” Alexander commented. He grew more serious. “The

men have been warned to keep watch over the MacLachlan clansmen’s

movements as well as Collin’s and Bearach’s. “Collin will not be content to

use persuasion now she has openly defied him. We must all keep watch

over her.”

His gaze moved to Tira as she joined one of the village men in a

dance. The May Queen crown of interwoven branches and leaves perched

on her dark head, had his jaw tightening. Because she would be leaving

soon, the villagers had shown their appreciation of her by crowning her May

Queen. Her dark hair swung free about her hips as she circled her partner,

her feet beating a feverish rhythm. Gabriel leaned against one wall watching

her, his expression harsh with a frown.

Alexander’s attention returned to Anne as she purposely avoided

Bearach MacDonald’s grasp on her arm and turned toward David to accept

his hand instead. Her father’s frown boded ill for both her and David, as he

led her forward in the dance. Thus far, neither Collin nor Bearach had

managed to corner her, though both had attempted to several times.

Alexander had become almost amused at their efforts.

Bearach’s attention focused on Tira and he moved in her direction

inspiring another of the MacLachlan Chief’s frowns. Collin started forward,

then pausing, he moved to one side of the room where large casks of ale

had been aligned along the wall. A servant dipped him a tankard of the brew

and he sipped it as he watched the dancers in the center of the floor, his

expression sour.

Alexander’s gaze searched the room once again for Mary. Concerned

by her continued absence, he wound his way through the crowd of villagers

and clansmen to the stairs. The passageway felt blessedly cool after the

heated press of the great hall and the quiet, a restful respite from the festive

music below. Opening the door to the chamber, his gaze settled on his

sleeping wife. Relief brought a smile to his lips and an easing of the

anxious tension along his shoulders and neck.

Of late, he had noticed how easily she seemed to tire and how often

she sought the comfort of a chair to ease her swollen feet and legs. His

gaze followed the rounded protrusion of her belly outlined by her gown. Her

father’s presence had upset her. She needed her rest. He slipped from the

room careful not to wake her.

As he returned to the hall, he noticed Gavin standing to one side

watching the dancers, his arms folded before him, his expression closed.

He had been strangely quiet all evening. Alexander crossed the room to

stand next to him.

“Is Mary ailing?” Gavin asked.

“Nay. Your father’s arrival has tired her, and she has fallen asleep in

our chamber.”

Gavin nodded.

“‘Twould seem Collin intends to press the lass.” Alexander nodded

toward Anne.

“Aye,” Gavin agreed, his tone short.

“Ian was killed at a most opportune time, was he not?”

Gavin’s attention did not sway from his sister, but his jaw tightened.

He wondered if the man was content with his father’s plans or if he

even suspected them. “Is Bearach who you would have for your sister,

Gavin?”

“Nay,” he answered. “You were not who I wished for Mary, either.”

“Aye, I ken that.” Alexander folded his hands behind him. “Does she

seem unhappy to be with me?”

Gavin remained silent a moment. “I do not understand it, but nay, she

does not.”

Alexander studied the younger man’s face. “Do you believe she would

have been as content with Bearach?”

For the first time, Gavin turned his head to look at him, his gaze

searching. “Nay.”

Alexander focused on the lad, his expression purposely serious.

“Having a MacDonald ally has made your father as arrogant now as he was

at Lochlan when last I was there. I would watch over Anne, as well as I tried

to Mary, Gavin.”

The lad remained silent a moment, his gaze once again intent on

Alexander’s face. “Aye, I will.”

****

pain rolled from her back around her mid-section. The muscles tensed to a

tight peak then gradually eased. She waited several minutes, in suspended

anxiety, for another contraction to come. When nothing happened, she drew

a deep breath and clasped her trembling hands between her knees. The

beginning of her labor had started. She had to remain calm.

The distant sound of music below in the great hall became audible to

her. It was late. The candle on the bedside table had melted down to a stub

and the red coals gleamed hot in the fireplace, but no flames were evident.

She rose, put several chunks of peat on the coals, and watched as it

caught. Moving to the chest at the foot of the bed, she removed several

clean sheets and laid them atop the tartan blanket. It would be many hours

before they would be needed. She drew several breaths to calm herself

again.

A tap on the heavy wooden door of the chamber had her moving in

relief to answer it. Just knowing someone was close by eased her fears.

Grace stood outside in the passageway, her hair in disarray, her

surcoat half buttoned. “I told her nay, Lady Mary, but she says ‘tis important.”

Tira stepped forward from behind Grace. “‘Tis Cassidy. He fell into a

blaze and has been burned badly. Will you come?”

Tira’s green gaze held a frantic look and the anxious demand in her

tone had Mary biting her lip. The child had to be grievously hurt for Tira to

come to her for help. Her labor was just beginning and there would be time

for her to tend him until Derek could arrive and take her place.

“Grace, send for Derek and Anabal. I have need of them both.” She

paused, her gaze resting on the girl until the importance of her words

became evident in Grace’s expression.

“You should wait for Derek to come to tend the lad,” Grace said, her

young face creased in a worried frown.

“There is time for him and Anabal to arrive. Send Derek to Tira’s hut

when he arrives. I will return to the castle then.”

Grace curtsied hurriedly and rushed down the passageway.

“Is Cassidy in great pain?” Mary asked as she threw a tartan shawl

about her shoulders and retrieved her basket of herbs and salves from the

bedside table.

“Aye.”

Instead of moving down the passageway toward the hall as Grace had

done, Tira turned in the opposite direction. Mary was once again reminded

of the woman’s familiarity with the castle and her husband. To know the

passageways so well, she must have often slipped unnoticed into his

chamber. Attempting to ignore the thoughts, she drew comfort from the

knowledge Tira would soon be gone.

Mary halted halfway down a flight of stairs as another contraction

struck her. “I must catch my breath, for a moment,” she managed. Tira

stopped several steps below her, her movements impatient. The pain

passed quickly, and she gestured to the woman to continue.

Through a back entrance unfamiliar to Mary, they exited the castle. The

early summer air, damp with frost, felt chilly. A new moon, bright and round,

shown down on them, elongating their shadows as they crossed the

courtyard to the gate. The music from the hall, lively and rhythmic, traveled

on the breeze. Deep masculine laughter came from close by as they

followed several villagers from the castle courtyard.

“We must hurry,” Tira urged.

Mary found matching the woman’s pace difficult.

“‘Tis this way,” Tira said before they reached the village. She turned off

the well-worn path to one that was smaller and harder to follow.

Mary’s steps flagged and she stopped only a few paces from the road.

Derek would not know where to find them. A startled squeak of protest

broke from her as something black was thrust down over her head and she

was grasped around the waist. Panicked, she twisted and kicked at her

attackers. Another contraction struck her and she had to stop to wait out the

pain.

“Tira, what have you done?” a familiar voice demanded from close by.

The sound of a scuffle erupted from behind her and the meaty thud of blows

being struck against flesh made her flinch and cringe away from the person

holding her arms.

“Walk,” a masculine voice ordered close to her ear. She was forced

forward, away from the sounds of fighting, by the painful grip on her arms.

“You whore!” Collin exclaimed. He dealt Tira a vicious backhand

across the face sending her reeling. She fell heavily on the ground and

curled into a defensive posture as he stood over her. “‘Twas Anne I told you

to bring, not Mary.”

Despite her anger toward the woman, Mary flinched at the violence

directed at her. She tugged at the bindings around her wrists with steady

pressure, trying to loosen them.

“I could not seek her out. They are watching her too closely,” Tira

protested.

“Mary is of no use to me,” he spat.

“Hold, Collin,” Bearach said, grasping the other man’s arm, his eyes

on Mary as she sat on the ground before the fire. “If we can put some

distance between the Campbell forces and yours, and join with my men, we

can force Alexander to exchange Anne for Mary and be gone from here.”

“I am laboring, Bearach. I cannot ride a horse. If the babe and I should

die because of this, there is no place in Scotland you or Collin will be able