Mary Reed McCall (23 page)

Looking back to her sister, Aileana thought quickly. Going to Morgana’s holding was preferable to death; that much was certain. And if she feigned cooperation cleverly enough, she might still have a chance of stealing the
Ealach
away from their grasp and finding her way with it back to Duncan. It was worth a try, at the least. She refused to dwell on what Duncan would likely feel once he realized that she wasn’t returning to Eilean Donan—that she had vanished without a trace during her foray to the woods. He’d either worry that she’d been taken off by beasts…or worse yet he’d decide that she’d betrayed him at long last, sneaking away to retrieve the
Ealach
when she’d claimed to be innocently gathering herbs.

Her heart plummeted, and a sick sensation filled her. Would he think she’d been pretending what she felt for him all along in order to fool him—or would he harbor doubt about her disappearance and forestall an attack on Dulhmeny until he’d investigated it further?

There was no way to know what he would think. She only knew that Duncan had been betrayed once before because of the
Ealach
; and though they’d recently come to an understanding, the tenderness they’d confessed to each other was so new and fragile that it was likely to waver in the face of this apparent—

She closed her eyes, forcing herself away from such tormenting thoughts. After taking a deep breath, she tightened her jaw, resigned to commence what needed to be done. “I will come with you, Morgana, without struggle. Lead on.”

“A wise choice, sister.”

“Aye, but not nearly as entertaining as the other,” Colin murmured, earning himself another glare from Morgana.

In an apparent attempt to distract her from her ire, he added, “You do realize that when Aileana fails to return to the castle, a search will be sent—and when no body is recovered, my arrogant brother may decide to broaden those efforts…which in turn might lead him to stumble upon something that brings him to us. He is betrothed to the wench, after all; he is sure to consider her his and will be unlikely to relinquish her easily.” He grunted, his expression a mixture of derision and reluctant admiration, “There will be hell to pay if he’s anything like he was with Mairi. Christ—he had to be knocked senseless in order to get him away from her, even after she was dead.”

“Aye, I remember,” Morgana murmured, her eyes icy enough to send another shiver up Aileana’s spine. “We will need to have a care, both in the path we choose to return home and in how we travel so that if Duncan does pursue a broader search out of stubbornness, he will find naught but a cold trail.”

Colin nodded. “I’ll fetch her mount, then, so we can be on our way.”

With an answering nod, Morgana turned away from Aileana and bent to gather a small bundle of provisions from the ground, wrapping the tools in a length of plaid she used as a pouch. Then she straightened to offer a shrill whistle. At the signal, a silver-streaked palfrey cantered up from the opposite direction of the mistenshrouded woodland, followed by a larger bay stallion. Colin rejoined them with Aileana’s pony in tow, securing it to his steed and jerking his head in a silent order for her to mount up.

She did as she was bid, and when they were all astride, Morgana twisted to look at her once more, a strange and almost unholy light filling her gaze. “It is time, Aileana,” she called out softly, “time to right the wrongs of the past and fulfill my destiny. From this moment onward, there will be no looking back.” Then her lips parted in a smile, her teeth flashing white in the shadowy forest, as she dug in her heels to urge her steed into motion.

Colin broke into a canter behind her, pulling Aileana’s pony to follow; she held on tightly with one hand, tugging with the other once more on the frayed edge of the plaid she’d been fiddling with all morning. After a final yank, a tiny piece tore off. A thrill of victory shot through her, but she knew she had little time to rejoice; they were almost out of the clearing. Staring straight ahead and keeping as still as she might, Aileana carefully opened her fingers, releasing the hard-won scrap of wool. It fluttered on the waft of air caused by the horses’ movement…

Floating down to rest upon the dead leaves that stirred and rasped over the barren ground below.

T
he council had been summoned hastily, and now Duncan sat in his accustomed place as chieftain at the middle of the long table near the northern end of the great hall. Kinnon had taken a position to his right, Callum, as clan elder, to his left, with another half dozen men serving to even out the group.

The hall itself was nearly full to the bursting with people from the castle and village, and yet a dead silence had descended over all. There had been no other reaction possible after Nora had stood up moments ago and called out her accusation. She’d insisted that Aileana MacDonell had committed blatant treachery against Duncan and the entire MacRae clan that very morning, using her newfound freedom as his betrothed to sneak away and meet with two accomplices before running off with the
Ealach
amulet.

Nora’s words had fallen like hammer blows on Duncan’s soul. At first there had been an outburst of voices,
with those who were more than ready to believe in a MacDonell’s treachery—even if the MacDonell in question was the chieftain’s chosen bride—arguing with those who felt they knew Aileana better. But eventually all had fallen silent out of respect for Duncan. Only
he
could decide what should be done next, not only as leader of the MacRaes, but as the betrothed of the accused.

And so the stunned silence stretched on, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the massive hearth along the wall.

There was one glaring problem, however: Duncan couldn’t bring himself to speak. Not if his life depended on it. He felt numb, suffocating. What Nora had said
couldn’t
be true. He knew it deep in his bones, but still he struggled with a shadow of doubt. For as much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn’t pretend that there was no history to her accusations. Aileana had wanted revenge on him and the MacRaes in the past. She’d considered betraying him only a few weeks ago. And though he believed with every fiber of his being that they’d gotten past all that, today’s events had called it into question again—and it was that which played havoc with his ability to speak.

There was no overlooking that Aileana had not returned from the forest today. Nora had offered up additional details as well that had made Duncan’s stomach churn: She claimed to have followed Aileana secretly, compelled by a feeling that the search for mandrake was a ruse to cover something more insidious. Her suspicions had proven true, she declared, and she’d watched from a safe distance as Aileana had entered a glen somewhere between MacRae and MacDonell land. There, Aileana had consorted with an unknown man and woman who
had conversed with her at length—even seeming to laugh and jest with her—before she left the clearing with them on horseback.

The information had left Duncan feeling sick at heart. An unknown man and woman had met with Aileana in a glen beyond Eilean Donan…a man and woman working together for a devious purpose, God help him. An innate sense of these strangers’ identities, impossible as it would seem, burned in Duncan’s chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask anything that would give him the confirmation he dreaded. Not yet.

“Do you believe that Aileana knew the people she met with in the glen, Nora?” Kinnon finally called out, sparing him the need to speak. Duncan threw him a grateful glance.

Nora nodded. “She talked with them and made no effort to run away. She followed them from the glen freely as well, allowing the man to lead her pony behind his.”

“And the
Ealach
seemed the purpose of their meeting, based on what you witnessed?” he continued.

“Aye.”

“Did you see the amulet with your own eyes, woman?” Kinnon pressed, exasperation clear in his voice. “These are serious charges you bring against the MacRae’s betrothed. Are you sure beyond a glimmer of doubt that what you’re saying is factual truth?”

“I saw the
Ealach
myself, there’s no mistake,” Nora returned hotly, raising her chin as she faced him. “I’d never laid eyes on it before this day, having come to Eilean Donan little more than seven years ago, but I know its description as well as any in our clan. Aileana MacDonell snuck away from here and then ran off with it—for though she didn’t carry the talisman in her own
hands, the woman who rode out of the glen alongside her was wearing it around her neck, clear as water.”

Duncan closed his eyes, then; nausea swelled in him, and he fisted his hand against the scarred surface of the wooden table as the buzz of angry voices rose again in the chamber.

The hum grew rapidly to shouting, with several from the crowd demanding that a raid be planned to make the guilty parties pay, others disputing that no one knew where to lead an attack, unless it were to Dulhmeny, the seat of all the traitorous MacDonells…and still others urging restraint and calm, until more could be learned. Kinnon stood up in an appeal to keep the discussion peaceful, and the rest of the council did their best as well to deal with the various arguments and cries of dissension coming at them from the floor.

Through the uproar, Duncan forced himself to open his eyes, look at Nora, and call out in a strong, clear voice, “What did she look like?”

Nora seemed confused for a moment, but the hubbub began to die down as people started to realize that their laird had spoken at long last.

Frowning, she faced him. “Aileana? I’d have thought you’d care little about how she was faring once you heard what I had to say. But if you must know, she looked the same as she always—”

“The
second
woman,” Duncan broke in, his words clipped and icy in the near silence that had blanketed the hall once more. “Describe her—and the man who was with her.”

“Oh.” Nora’s cheeks reddened and her expression looked more pinched than usual. “Well, it was obvious that the other woman was of the MacDonells as well, which is one of the reasons I know Aileana played trai
tor against us all today. The two women shared a marked likeness, with red hair and fair complexions; they even seemed similar in height, though the other one stood a bit taller than Aileana. The man with them may or may not have been of their clan. He was tall as well, and strong-looking, but his hair was tawny rather than red.”

“Is that all?” Duncan managed to ask past the sudden constriction in his throat and the pounding that had begun in his temples.

“Aye—no wait,” Nora corrected herself, frowning more deeply, and looking away as if to hone her recollection of the morning’s sights. “The man with them…he had an eye patch and what looked to be a scar below it, though I can’t be sure of that part, since I was a fair distance away. I was close enough to see the
Ealach
, though—and to watch Aileana ride off with it and her conspirators!” she finished with a spiteful glare.

“Nay, not her,” Duncan answered huskily, pushing himself up to stand and face the people of his clan. “Aileana MacDonell may have been in the glen, but she was not in possession of the
Ealach
. Her elder sister Morgana was. It was that cursed witch and my half brother, Colin MacRae, who took the amulet again. We thought them long dead, but it seems we were wrong. It can be no other than they, from your description.”

After a moment of stunned silence, chaos bloomed anew in the hall, with many people crossing themselves for fear of the dead returned, and others shouting for the overdue spilling of blood—whether it be Morgana’s and Colin’s, Aileana’s, or the MacDonell clan’s as a whole, it didn’t seem to matter. The prayers and cries for vengeance blended into a cacophony of sound. Everyone began to surge forward, many of the men offering themselves for positions on the raiding party while the coun
cil rose and prepared to hear Duncan’s plans for retaliation.

As they readied to leave the hall for that purpose, Kinnon paused to glance at Duncan, his face ashen. “Do you really think it is Morgana and Colin, Duncan?” he murmured. “Still alive after all these years?”

“Much as I’d like to deny the possibility, it would seem so. You heard Nora. The two she described can be no others,” Duncan answered, his jaw tight as he turned away. But Kinnon placed a restraining hand on his arm, and Duncan swiveled the look at him again.

“And Aileana? Do you think, then, that she is—?”

Duncan shook his head. “I would wager my life against Aileana being involved in this willingly or betraying me, Kinnon, and yet…” He glanced away, his throat aching. “Well, it appears by Nora’s testimony that it could be otherwise.”

He swallowed, looking out over his people, most of whom were still clamoring with each other for retribution and the return of the
Ealach
. “In truth,” Duncan continued hoarsely, “either possibility chills me to the bone. But regardless of which it is, I must ride out within the hour and try to track where they’ve gone, for I’ll not risk Aileana’s safety if Nora is wrong…or allow Morgana and any who aid her to escape without retribution if she is right.”

Kinnon nodded, his expression more serious than Duncan could ever remember having seen it. They clasped forearms to show their solidarity, before finally separating to stride from the hall to their individual preparations.

Duncan headed off to gather his war gear and send a message to Dulhmeny. And as he went, he steeled himself for the upcoming battle. He knew it would be far
greater than any he had fought in his life. For this would be a conflict undertaken on a field of sharp contrasts, with uncertainty and dark suspicion warring against blind, trusting love…

And with the spoils of victory being nothing less than a final judgment on the survival of his own, battered heart.

“I don’t think we should be stopping,” Duncan said. “We’re too close.”

Kinnon squatted next to the newly kindled fire and threw another handful of sticks onto it. “The men cannot continue. Besides, it’s dark now and harder to find the witch’s path.”

“All the more reason to keep going. We may lose her altogether if we don’t push on. By morning the signs of her may have faded.” Duncan paced round the edge of the fire. Though they’d been traveling for hours and his body was weary, he knew he’d not find rest this night.

And yet he needn’t have dissembled with Kinnon. His cousin was well aware of the real reason he couldn’t bear stopping: his fear for Aileana. Duncan’s remaining doubts concerning her innocence had vanished with the first scrap of cloth they’d spotted along the trail. It was from an old swath of plaid Aileana always wore as a shawl when she worked in the garden or foraged for herbs…any time she would be digging in the dirt.

That plaid had gone missing with her, and so when that first bit had been found, his heart had leapt with renewed hope—and lancing fear. Had there been a struggle of some kind, one that Nora hadn’t witnessed? There was no blood to be seen, no sign of crushed bracken. But the bit of cloth he’d found had been torn away from the larger piece; there was no mistake.

When they’d stumbled upon two more scraps of the same pattern along the way, Duncan had known that Aileana was leaving him intentional signs. She’d gone with Morgana and Colin against her will, regardless of what it had seemed to Nora. Kinnon agreed, though some of the other men still expressed doubt, saying the cloth could have snagged on branches as she fled to the north. But Duncan knew better. Aileana was in danger, and she was trying to let him know it.

Suddenly, the impulse to find and punish the two people who had orchestrated so much misery for him those many years ago burned hotter and deeper.

“Morgana’s tracks will be as clear in a few hours as they are now,” Kinnon said, pulling his thoughts back to the present. “Actually they will be better, for the fact that we’ll have daylight to show the way—and help us spot any new clues.” He cast Duncan an understanding look before getting up and calling to Ewen, telling him to bring a few of the spitted hares they’d prepared for roasting over the coals. While they waited, he added more quietly, “Try to curb your impatience, cousin. It will not serve Aileana to try to fight Morgana when we are tired and hungry. The men need rest. At the first sign of light, we’ll resume our way.”

Duncan’s jaw clenched in frustration. He felt afire, his body consumed with a heat and energy that drove him to action. But Kinnon was right. The men were exhausted. He shook his head when Kinnon offered him a bannock cake. He couldn’t eat. Not yet. Too many thoughts cluttered his mind, and he had to clear them before he could do anything other than envision his goal.

His cousin stiffened beside him, pulling him again from his musings. Aileana’s brother Robert was approaching, and Kinnon glanced at him before murmur
ing, “I’m not convinced it was such a good idea to include him on the hunt for his own sister. How can we be sure he’s to be trusted?”

“I’ve taken care of it. Don’t worry.”

There was no time for more talk, once Robert came within hearing distance. Kinnon busied himself setting the hares to roast, and Duncan nodded to Robert, who crouched next to the fire with a troubled expression on his face.

“Is something amiss?” Duncan asked, tossing him a bannock cake before sitting on a chunk of log near the blaze.

“Nothing other than that I don’t relish thoughts of what’s to come on the morrow.”

Kinnon raised his brow and caught Duncan’s gaze. “I hope you’re not having second thoughts about joining us against your sister, MacDonell.”

Robert shook his head. “Nay. Morgana must be found; I know that—for both our clans’ sakes as well as for Aileana.” He sat down near Duncan and sighed. “I want to help you, MacRae, in any way that I can.” He twisted a twig in his fingers until it snapped, then tossed the pieces into the popping flames. “I just need to know what you’re planning to do with Morgana once you find her.”

Duncan remained silent, staring into the fire and watching it lick at the wood, devouring it. His imagination ignited with similar force, producing visions of what he’d like to do to Morgana once he found her. What he’d wanted to do to her for thirteen years.

She’d ruined his young life. Stealing the
Ealach
had hurt him, yet it wasn’t the worst. He might have forgiven her that. But she’d destroyed his clan and killed Mairi out of spite. She’d murdered innocent people simply for
the pleasure of hurting him, and he’d had to relive that agony every day since. Now she’d taken Aileana. It was a pain worse than any the English had inflicted on him in the Tower, and he’d never forgive her for it.