Highland Seer (3 page)

“We thank ye for yer hospitality, Laird MacKyrie.” A man with hair the brownish color of old copper addressed his comment to Micheil. “We have a proposal we’ve been sent to discuss with ye by Laird Lathan, to the benefit of both our clans and others in this region.”

Ellie and Micheil exchanged a glance. They did not know? How could they not? Fergus hadn’t mentioned discussing the clan with the Lathans, but surely...or one of the lads?

“Indeed?” Micheil prompted.

“Perhaps ye’d like to be seated,” Ellie interrupted, giving Micheil a pertly arched eyebrow before she continued, “and break yer fast before beginnin’ such a serious conversation. I’m Ellie MacKyrie and this is Micheil, whose manners have apparently deserted him this fine mornin’. We owe ye a great deal more than a part of our simple repast.”

Ellie let her gaze travel over two other men who resembled the one she’d seen in her dream. The blond? Or the one with light-brown hair, streaked with gold? Either of them might be the one. The man in her dream had golden hair.

The man who’d spoken moved into a shaft of sunlight. His hair suddenly blazed with copper highlights. Ah, definitely not him, then.

He broke into a grin. “Jamie Lathan, at yer service, lass.” He indicated each of his companions. “Bram, Forbes, Alpin, and Innis Lathan. That brooding presence to my right is Donal MacNabb, arms master to Clan Lathan. We’d be pleased to break bread with ye before we begin.”

They all greeted her, some with a smile or a nod. But the one named Donal MacNabb merely studied her, acknowledging her with a lift of one eyebrow, then letting his gaze skim down her body and back up to meet her eyes. Suddenly Ellie’s palms dampened. Why? His glance hadn’t seemed sensual so much as analytical. Judging her? Did he suspect?

Micheil gestured to the empty table next to theirs and signaled for the serving girl’s attention. The Lathans sat and accepted food and drink—politely, Ellie thought, for such fierce-looking men. Especially that last one, Donal. Fierce-looking, indeed. Arms master! He had the look of the man in her dream, big and strongly muscled. But so did the one sitting next to him, called Bram. Donal had dark blond hair, or light brown, streaked by the sun, cut shaggy and loose to his jawline. Light eyes. Blue? No, green. Bram’s hair had more blond in it, and he stood a bit taller. Ach, she couldn’t be sure. Both would bear watching.

Smiling, Micheil sat and whispered to her as she also seated herself, “What do ye think, Ellie?”

“They seem civilized enough.” She kept her voice low, too, and a smile on her face as she nibbled at her breakfast. “Let’s see how they react when they learn the truth.” Ellie lingered over her food, allowing the Lathans time to finish theirs. Micheil fidgeted at her side, but followed her lead for once. Finally, they finished eating. The time had come to talk.

Micheil rose beside her as Ellie stood. “I’m afraid we havena been entirely truthful with ye,” he began.

Ellie saw their visitors tense. To their credit, not one laid a hand to a dirk.

Micheil held out a palm in a gesture Ellie recognized as his attempt to placate and calm the reaction they’d both observed. “Ye’ve come to meet with Laird MacKyrie. I’m no’ the one ye seek.”

Jamie Lathan canted his head and widened his eyes. Donal MacNabb’s expression provided contrast. Ellie saw suspicion and calculation on his face as he shifted his weight forward to the edge of his seat.

A shiver ran down her spine as it occurred to her the game she and Micheil had been playing might be a dangerous one.

With courtly flourish, Micheil made a half bow and continued, unabashed. “May I present to ye the Laird and Seer of Clan MacKyrie, Elspeth MacKyrie.”

If possible, Donal’s expression became even more fierce. Ellie tensed as Jamie’s and the others’ eyebrows arced toward their hairlines, but then Jamie grinned. Ah, he liked surprises. But Donal looked like he wanted to take the table apart with his bare hands. His fists clenched at his sides, standing veins and white knuckles giving away his irritation. Did their deception anger him? Or the fact of a woman at the head of a clan? A Seer?

Ellie took a breath, waiting to see what consensus they would reach amongst them.

“Laird MacKyrie.” Jamie stood and bowed to the precise degree Micheil had demonstrated. “I am most honored to meet ye.” He glanced around as his companions gained their feet. Taking note of the thunderous expression on Donal’s face, smiled even more broadly. “As are we all.”

So, Jamie was in charge, at least of the business that had brought them here, though the lads had reported that Donal led them in battle. Ellie released a pent up breath and returned his grin. “I’m glad,” she answered, then indicated the stairs with a tilt of her head. Down to business. “Let’s move to the solar to begin our serious conversation. I gather ye have much to say.”

“Indeed.” Jamie sketched another half bow, then turned to the glowering Donal and the rest of his men. “Donal, with me, if ye please. The rest of ye, see to the horses. We’ll meet later.”

Ellie led them up the stairs and settled them in the upholstered chairs normally occupied by women doing needlework. She took her accustomed place in the center seat, framed by its high back and the MacKyrie tartan covering it. The laird’s seat. It had been her father’s favorite. After four years of bearing his title, this was her first encounter with men from a strange clan. Could she truly act in his stead? It didn’t take her second sight to know she would soon find out. She smoothed her skirt and clasped her hands in her lap.

Micheil stood behind her. Jamie sat opposite. Donal stood at his back, a scowl drawing down his brow as he glanced around. His gaze met hers and his expression lightened, but only for a moment until he looked away again. Perhaps his frown was not for her? Did this fierce-looking man have a softer side, after all? Though she wouldn’t mind spending some time getting to know some of Donal’s other moods, that would have to wait.

“Please, begin,” Ellie offered with a nod. Jamie had not stopped smiling. He seemed quite taken with the idea of a woman as laird.

“Laird MacKyrie, I bring ye greetings from Toran Lathan, laird of Clan Lathan. Since the losses at Flodden, Scotland has been weakened. Sassenach incursions across the border have become more frequent. Worse, lost men from broken clans wander both the Lowlands and the Highlands, causing trouble.”

Ellie nodded for him to continue, thinking they might have seen some of the same trouble here very recently. Or perhaps not.

Jamie took a breath and continued. “Toran began overtures to nearby clans more than a year ago. He thought it wise to join together for the common defense. At the same time, a Lowlander army made its way into the Highlands—by a route that left yer lands untrammeled, I presume?”

“Aye.” Micheil answered, shifting his weight behind her.

“The leader of that group wanted to subjugate the Highland clans. He laid siege to our seat, the Aerie. He was unsuccessful. But his attempt cemented in Toran’s mind the need for the Highland clans to quit feuding and band together lest we lose our lands and kinfolk to another would-be conqueror.”

“Where was the Regent while all of this was going on?” Ellie placed her elbows on her chair’s arms and wrapped her fingers over the curved front. She’d seen her father sit this way. Somehow, it made her feel more commanding.

“Nowhere to be found,” Jamie answered, the smile finally absent from his face. “The King is a bairn, ye ken, barely out of swaddlin’ and the Regent lingers in France. We had the help of a neighbor, who needed our assistance more than we needed theirs after the invaders destroyed their village, but no other.”

So the clans were truly on their own. Ellie’s stomach sank. She wished she could see Micheil’s face. It was unsettling to hear of such troubles even further into the Highlands. She wondered what Micheil made of their tale.

Donal appeared to be watching both of them carefully. But for the most part, he directed his impassive gaze over her shoulder. It never wavered. Was that some form of silent male communication? I’m here and I’m watching ye? Dinna do anythin’ stupid?

Let the two of them eye each other, she thought, so long as they kept each other occupied and silent. The rough nap of the woolen tartan beneath her fingers recalled her to the present. She leaned forward, returning her attention to Jamie.

“Yer assumption is correct,” she told him. “The army ye speak of must have used another route into the midst of the Highlands. We neither saw nor heard of them. Our valley is protected by mountains on all sides, with limited access by high passes that are often blocked by snow in winter. We’ve no’ been disturbed here in my lifetime.”

“Yet ye sit behind fortified walls.” Jamie pointed toward the windows and the curtain wall beyond them, then steepled his fingers together in front of him. “Someone must have had a reason to build this keep in such an imposing manner.”

“Long ago, aye. Lately, nay, save for occasional disputes with nearby clans.”

“And yer menfolk. Lost at Flodden? Didna yer Sight give ye a warning?”

Ellie fought to keep her gaze level while anger and sadness fought for supremacy in her mind.

At last, she spoke, clear-eyed with anger. She suppressed the heartbreak that would not heal, for the menfolk they lost and the troubles they left behind. “Aye, lost at Flodden. I regret that my talent is never so specific or infallible. At times, I canna determine what a Seeing means until the event takes place. Else I surely would have warned against sending our men.”

Jamie’s gaze dropped to the floor. Could he not bear to look upon one who had failed her clan in such a devastating way? “Then I’m doubly sorry for yer losses. It must have been even worse for ye.”

Ellie’s temper spiked. Worse that her talent had failed to save her laird and clansmen? That she now sat in their place? “It was bad enough for all of us,” she spat. She noted Donal’s frown. Was that in sympathy or in reaction to her irritation? If only she could read minds instead of, sometimes, seeing the future. She’d like to know what was going through his. He looked bloody dangerous. And yet, there was something about him. Even without her Sight, it was plain there was more to Donal MacNabb than that.

“Much the same in many clans.” Jamie sighed and she realized his words had been spoken in sympathy, not recrimination. “As a younger son, Toran never expected to lead our clan. But a fine leader he is—for the Lathans and for others in the Highlands who wish to ally with him.” His words softened somewhat the sense of failure that his avoidance of her gaze had given her.

“How can the Lathans help us?”

Micheil’s belligerent tone put Ellie on alert. Donal, too, from the set of his shoulders.

Micheil continued in the same tone. “Ye’re too far away to reach us in time of need. The same if ye called on us—we’d ne’er arrive in time to be of any assistance.”

“Perhaps no’,” Jamie conceded, “but the signed treaties that we’re carryin’ back to the Aerie ensure there will be help available from other clans nearby.”

Micheil’s fists pounded the cushioned back of Ellie’s chair. “We dinna need...” Micheil began.

“To finish this discussion now,” Ellie completed the sentence for him, then held her breath. Not this time, Micheil. She willed him to silence. Now was not the time for a display of temper. Hers had been bad enough. Besides, Donal watched Micheil like a hawk spotting its prey.

Micheil must have heard the censure in her tone, for he remained silent. She didn’t need him to cause the negotiation to break down completely.

The tip of her tongue tingled with a question, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer yet. If the MacDuff was one of the nearby signatories, that would be a complication she needed to consider before speaking about it. “Let us think on the matter for a while. If ye have the time, ye’re welcome to guest with us while we discuss this further.”

Ellie rose and Micheil moved to her side. Jamie stood quickly. Was he nonplussed by their resistance or by sudden change in direction their conversation had taken?

“Of course, Laird MacKyrie. Would yer hospitality extend to showing us yer lands and holdings? We would be better able to assess how to help ye if we could see the extent of yer responsibilities.”

Would they? Or would they use the information to come back with more men and take over her glen? Ellie studied their faces—Jamie’s open and guileless on the surface, though she’d already seen evidence of his sharp mind and sharper wit. And Donal, fierce and brooding, keeping his own counsel yet fairly vibrating with the strength of his emotions. She lowered her gaze to his hand, resting on the back of Jamie’s chair. Strong, big, scarred. Could he be the man in her dream? Had the Sight shown her this man saving the wagons, Fergus, and the lads?

It seemed right somehow. A risk, but one worth taking. “We’ll ride out in the morning. Today, I must tend to my wounded. I thank ye again for their lives and safety.”

Ellie moved to the door. Jamie sketched a quick bow, but Donal stood straight behind him.

With a nod to both of her guests, Ellie left the room, Micheil on her heels.

****

“Ye have a home many would envy.” Donal couldn’t help but be as impressed by the MacKyrie glen as he’d been at the first sight of the MacKyrie keep. Aye, he’d had some concern about taking its laird—and Seer—outside her walls given the raid they’d broken up on the way here, even with Jamie and Micheil riding ahead of them. But once they’d quit the keep and village sprawled at its walls, they’d been out for hours and met no one. They’d crossed several burns, stopping at one to rest the horses and allow them to drink the bracingly cold water before continuing up into the higher elevations of the valley, following game trails through the thick woods. He nearly forgot to keep alert for wolves or bandits or any other dangers that could lurk among the thick trees. Against all of his instincts, he was starting to relax and enjoy the ride and the company of the woman at his side.

Ahead, he could hear Micheil telling Jamie about the tactical advantages offered by the high passes and steep-sided mountains surrounding them, as well as the types and bounty of game available to them. Those things should be Donal’s prime concern, yet he couldn’t keep his attention on their conversation. Ellie had ensnared him with her enthusiasm for the day. The only voice he wanted to hear was hers.