Highland Seer (23 page)

Ellie raised a hand to ward off his words. “The MacDuff? Och, nay. I canna stomach that man.”

“He must care for ye. He’s determined to woo and win ye. Is that so bad?”

She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her middle. “On the face of it, no. He’s the laird of a large, powerful clan. He has an army at his disposal, wealth and land. But I canna bear the thought of having him to husband.” She grimaced, then made her decision. “And I regret it to my very bones if I’m hurting ye, my friend. But Donal is the one I’ve chosen. He is the one in my dream.”

“Ye’re certain he’s the one whose coming was foretold by yer Sight? It’s never been that specific before.”

Ellie bowed her head. What if she was wrong? What if she’d only convinced herself? What if she met someone from one of the treaty clans and suddenly knew. Would she be able to admit she had been wrong? Could she hurt Donal that way?

“I’ve had the dream more than once. Each time, the face has been more clear.”

Micheil shook his head. “But not completely? Aye, he’s the one ye’ve been spending time with. I’ve seen ye gazing at him—and he at ye. But perhaps ye think it’s him because ye see him so often.” He squeezed her hand. “He’s little more than a sword for hire, Ellie. A landless man from far away. What good can he do us?” Micheil tipped her chin up with a finger. “And he made ye cry. I could kill him for that alone.”

“Dinna be foolish, Micheil. He’s not responsible for my tears. I am.”

Micheil stepped away from her and paused, facing the starlit night visible through the window. “If ye’re set on him, there are ways. All we’d have to do is catch the two of ye...”

“Micheil! Nay!” Ellie put her hand to her throat and lowered her voice. “Nay. I couldna do it. I’ll no’ trap the man into staying with me. He would hate me. Hate all of us. We need him too much to risk that.”

Ellie shuddered, imaging the scene. The fury that would be in Donal’s eyes as Micheil and others burst into her chamber to find them together. He’d feel betrayed, aye, and furious. They’d be lucky to survive it. “He must want to stay, for his own reasons, no’ because we tread on his honor.” Ellie shook her head. “Nay. No matter how much we need him, I willna force him, no’ that way.”

Micheil shook his head, a sudden movement of a deeper blackness. “Yer scruples commend ye, lass.” He returned to her side and offered his arm. “Verra well. Come, I’ll walk ye to yer chamber. I’ll no’ have ye fall in this gloom.”

She wrapped her fingers around his elbow. He placed his strong, warm hand over hers. Ellie appreciated Micheil’s companionable silence during the time it took to reach her door. There, he patted her hand and released her.

“Ellie, listen to me. Think on this some more. Give yerself time. Donal McNabb is no’ our only hope, nor is Lachlan MacDuff. There will be men coming from the treaty clans, closer by. There may be a suitable consort among them. A marriage there would link our clan with theirs most successfully, rather than with a clan from so far away we never heard of them.”

Ellie shook her head. “Ye speak sense, Micheil, I ken ye do. I would agree with ye, except for the matter of the Sight.”

“Ye said ye had the dream several times. Each time a sharper image of the man’s face. Perhaps once the rest arrive, that face will come fully into focus and ye’ll realize MacNabb is no’ who ye have been seeing.”

“Perhaps.”

“Either way, dinna refuse the MacDuff entirely. I still think allying with them could be wise.”

Ellie shuddered again. But she knew Micheil could be like a dog with a bone. He would not let this drop unless she agreed with him, however tentatively. “I...very well, Micheil, I’ll think on all ye’ve said. Ye’re a good friend. Ye always have been. I ken ye have my best interests at heart.”

“Always, Ellie. Always.”

She opened the door to her chamber and bade him goodnight as she stepped through, then closed it behind her, troubled. Why did Micheil insist an alliance with the MacDuff would be wiser than the alliance with the Lathans? Was he still smarting from the trouncing he got from Bram in the great hall? Or from Donal on the practice ground? He knew how she felt about Lachlan MacDuff. He’d even pointed out that there might be others more suitable than Donal coming from the treaty clans. So what made Micheil so determined she consider the MacDuff?

****

Donal dreamed of Ellie all through the night, waking briefly several times, hard and aching, only to realize she wasn’t there, then falling back into heated dreams. Now the sky had brightened though the sun had yet to rise and he still tossed and turned as their time together last night ran through his mind.

He’d come close to taking her. She’d all but said she wanted him to. She needed a husband, a consort, and had decided she wanted him beside her. All because she believed her visions had shown him to be the man who would come to save them. Was that the only reason? Or did Ellie see something in him? Something he didn’t see in himself?

He rarely let anyone get close to him. When he did, it was to satisfy a physical need, not to make an emotional bond. So why had he spent the past night dreaming, not just about making love to her, but her smile, her laugh, the sparkle in her eyes? Why couldn’t he get her out of his mind?

He stacked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, breathing deeply to slow the rush of heat to his groin. Ellie clearly preferred him. She’d been ready to put the cart before the horse. Aye, she was no shy virgin, but a woman with her target in sight: him.

But he refused to be trapped by a woman’s wiles. If he truly wanted to leave MacKyrie when the lads were trained, he could not bed its laird. He meant what he’d told her. He would not leave her with a child and ruin her chance to find happiness with a suitable man, one with nearby lands, wealth, and warriors to protect her.

Aye, he would leave when he finished the job here. When the time was right. He would leave, perhaps never to return.

Until then, he needed to take action. Sometime during the night, he’d come to the realization he had to get away from Ellie—at least for a while—before he did something they’d both regret. Before he let her tempt him into doing what she willed—and he wanted. Taking her. Making love to her. Ach, that was too painful to contemplate. His pulse pounded and his body demanded its release with her, but his mind refused to grant it. He could not harm her that way. Nor could he let himself become so entangled with her that neither she nor he could bear the pain of his leavetaking when the time came. He could not let her have that much power over him. Not then. Not now.

But he could get some distance from Ellie to think about what to do. Clear his mind. Calm his blood.

He must figure out how could he stay and make the conditions of the treaty work while fighting this need for her. The treaty she had signed on the condition that he train her lads. Nay, he had sworn to do a job here. He was not free to return to the Aerie. For as long as that took...a year, or more. Yet, he couldn’t survive a year of being near her, seeing the hurt in her eyes when he rejected her advances—and he had to reject them for her own sake. And for his.

Or worse, seeing her with another man. He turned his head to the side if to look away from that idea, then slammed his hands down beside his thighs and fisted them in the bedclothes.

He had to think, and he couldn’t do that when she was near enough to touch, to taste, to take. Last night, he’d come too close to giving in to her there before the hearth in her solar. If she had stroked but a finger’s width lower, his fractured control would have shattered, and Ellie would have had her way.

He groaned, his entire body throbbing at the memory.

He rolled out of bed, the chill of the floor a shock to his bare feet. His erection strained out from his belly, a surly reminder of what he could have had, but hadn’t. Ellie meant far more to him than a quick tumble. And she was far too important to her clan to risk her that way.

With a growl, he dressed and got his gear together, distracting himself with plans for the coming journey. He’d go with the wagons at least as far as the first village to get them past bandit territory. Then he’d return. Aye. He was no coward, to run from a mere lass. He’d be back, but by the time he returned, he’d have thought this through without her distraction. He’d know whether he meant to take Ellie as his own or walk away from her forever.

He made his way down to the bailey, grabbing a package of food from the kitchen on the way. Bram, Forbes, Alpin, and Innis were checking their horses when he arrived. Their breaths drifted like wispy clouds around them. He ignored the early morning chill and waved Bram aside. Bram might challenge his reasons for going. He would not have that discussion in front of the others.

“I’ve decided to ride out with the wagons. Ye’ll stay here to keep an eye on things until we get back.”

Bram frowned. “Are ye sure? I’ve no problem goin’ with the MacKyries.” Bram hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the keep. “Ellie...the MacKyrie,” he said, amending his familiar use of her name as Donal narrowed his eyes. “She willna be pleased to find ye gone. Or me in yer place.”

Donal signaled for one of the stablehands to bring his horse. “Aye, I’m sure. Get back inside.” He grimaced, debating whether leaving Ellie a message would make her think he cared too much for her, then shrugged. She already knew. “If the MacKyrie asks, tell her I’ll be back within days. I dinna plan to stay with the wagons past the first village unless we meet trouble before then.”

Bram raised an eyebrow. Donal lifted his chin, making it clear he’d brook no argument. Bram nodded. Without further discussion, he began stripping his gear from his horse. He tossed a wrapped package to Donal. The scent of warm bread and ripe cheese came with it. “Take this. I willna need it.”

Donal nodded his thanks as the stablehand led out his mount, then began stowing his gear and checking its tack. Thankfully, Ellie had not put in an appearance. With luck, she’d sleep until well after he and the wagons had gone.

In moments, he would be away from here.

Leaving Bram behind had been an inspired idea. Let her deal with him while Donal was out of the keep. Perhaps her fixation on Donal as the man in her dream would fade. Bram looked enough like him to cause her to wonder, or so Donal hoped. He suspected she’d be angry he’d left with no word, but Bram could do anything Donal could do, nearly as well. His chest tightened. Anything.

The possibilities that ran through his mind made him pause and clench his hands into fists. He dropped his head to the horse’s withers. Heat and horse-scent filled his nose, soothing the sudden jaw-clenching fury at Bram that swept over him. Jealousy. Gods. He wanted Bram here to distract Ellie and yet he was so jealous he had to fight back the impulse to strike out at his friend.

At that thought, Donal almost changed his mind, but nay. He’d just proved that Ellie MacKyrie might be consumed by her interest in him, but he could not get her off his mind, either. Or out of his heart? He must get away from her, if only for the time it took to escort the wagons. The scalding flare of jealousy over the idea of Bram lying with her gave him all the proof he needed. Donal mounted his horse and rode to the lead wagon. Another of the oldsters, Billy, held the reins loosely. Two of the youngsters from the fight in the great hall the other day sat beside him.

“Are ye ready?”

“Aye, we are.”

“Then let’s go.”

Billy flicked his reins over the backs of the Highland coos, encouraging them to start pulling the heavy load. They shuffled in place as he flicked the reins again, then began moving.

Donal saluted Bram with a rueful grin, glad the other man didn’t know what was behind it. He canted his head at the other three Lathans. “Let’s ride.”

He turned his mount and passed through the outer gate ahead of Billy’s wagon.

Chapter 15

Ellie awoke troubled despite the bright sunshine streaming in her windows. After tossing and turning all night, she’d slept little. When she did, she dreamed of a snowy field covered with ravens. Black and shiny, they had lifted from the snow in a mass and flown away as if they were one bird. Soundless. No cawing. No rush of air from their many wings. Eerie silence.

Ellie rubbed her eyes. Ravens? Ravens were very smart birds. A single raven could be a sign of wisdom, of coming enlightenment. But an unkindness of ravens, the flock deep black against the blinding white of snow? Contrast. Some sort of significant change. Trouble. Aye, that had to be it. They had to be a portent of trouble, despite the clear day her windows revealed. Ellie shivered at the memory. A deep shadow on clean snow. But why had they made no sound? Trouble then, with no warning of its coming?

She sat up and kicked away the covers. If the weather stayed fair, the wagons were due to leave early this morning. The sunshine told her they must be preparing to go. She had to get downstairs before they left. To warn Donal. His men and her people would be in danger.

Would they meet more bandits? Would the Lathan escort be enough to protect them?

She dressed quickly without bothering to stir the embers in the hearth to warm the room. She needed to see for herself that the wagons were ready to travel, well armed and prepared. And she wanted to talk to Donal. If more trouble was coming, she needed him more than ever. She hurried from her chamber, boots slapping on the cold stone floor.

Last night convinced her a direct approach would not work with him. Her talent made him uncomfortable, yet he accepted that it was real. That acceptance gave her hope. On the other hand, he believed he had a duty to protect her not just from the other dangers surrounding her clan, but from herself and if need be, from him, She’d failed to convince him she knew her own mind. That she didn’t need or want protection from him. His damned sense of duty to the Lathans kept him aloof. That and his damned idea he was somehow unworthy of being the consort of a Laird. Of her. A woman who’d never thought to be in this position. Who’d never been expected to be Laird. Who, when the news had come of the losses her clan had suffered, never wanted it either. She’d been a younger daughter, married for an alliance that had not survived Flodden. She had inherited the lairdship by right and custom, not because she sought it or ever expected to hold it. Or been trained for it. Somehow, she had to break through Donal’s resistance to convince him. If she could go from younger sibling to ruling her clan, he could as well. She needed him. It was clear to her. Why couldn’t he see it?