The Kindling Heart (21 page)

“Tidings!” Robert shouted, pulling up beside him. “Come to the hall at once. Bring Bree.”

With a sense of growing dread, Ruan marched into Dunvegan with Bree in tow.

The noon meal forgotten, the clansmen gathered around an exhausted and battered young boy seated in Tormod’s chair. Upon spying Ruan, his small face lit, and he leapt into his arms. Ruan staggered a step, unprepared, but hugged the lad in return.

“Ruan!” the lad gulped. “Fearghus… Fearghus…”

“Take a breath, Colin,” Ruan placed a comforting hand upon his head.

It took some time, but Colin finally managed to impart the details. Fearghus had raided the clan borders, burning several fields and a handful of crofts. After seeing his kin locked in their croft and the roof set afire, the lad had escaped.

Ruan blanched.

He wanted to retch. It was his fault. He’d caused this. Fearghus was striking back with vengeance. Sick at heart, he collapsed on the nearest bench.

“This blood is on yer hands, Ruan,” Tormod announced loudly. He inspected the faces of the men around him eagerly, obviously expecting a chorus of agreement.

Grim silence greeted his display.

“Aye,” Ruan murmured finally. “’Tis true enough.”

A ripple of disagreement circled the hall.

Tormod licked his lips, nervously.

“Nay,” Ruan said. He stood, holding up his hand and addressed the clansmen. “I’m the cause, but I’ll set it right.”

They erupted into a cheer.

“’Tis no fault of yours, Ruan!” a man said.

Others took up the words.

“Silence!” Tormod thundered. He looped his hands over his paunch, and his chin jiggled in indignation. “If Ruan had nae attacked Fearghus, this would never—”

“If ye’d never wed Merry off then Ruan wouldn’t have needed to fetch her,” Robert interrupted calmly. “We should ride at once. Fearghus may nae be yet finished, and we should head him off.”

Agreement circled the hall.

“Ye’ll be riding, too?” Robert asked Tormod coolly. “Michael and Gerland as well?”

Tormod took an involuntary step back. “Aye, Michael and Gerland, of a certainty, but I should be staying here to… to deal with… matters.”

Ruan’s head snapped up. Recalling Tormod’s unexpected appearance in Jenna’s cottage, he turned upon his older brother. “I’ll nae hesitate slaughtering ye if you touch her, Tormod. Make no mistake.”

Tormod’s flaccid cheeks rippled as he lifted his jaw. “Dare ye threaten The MacLeod?” He hissed.

“Aye,” Ruan replied, unrepentantly.

Several nearby clansmen nodded in open support.

“Ruan’s wife inspires such loyalty?” Tormod spat in their direction, but he paled, obviously unnerved.

“We all love Bree,” Robert’s voice rang clear, nodding at the men to return to their seats. “Ewan will see to Bree’s safety whilst we are away.” Robert continued evenly. “The young pup canna come with us; ‘tis best to keep the Earl of Mull from this matter.”

“Ye should be riding, Tormod,” Ruan said and folded his arms in a direct challenge.

“Matters of import require my attention!” Tormod raised his voice, but it sounded thin, almost wavering.

“Then, Ruan shall lead,” Robert announced. He lifted his arm, holding it high. “He is a MacLeod!”

The clansmen in the hall roared in response, “A MacLeod! A MacLeod! Ruan MacLeod!”

Tormod’s face drained of color.

Ruan laid a hand on his uncle’s arm. “A word, Uncle?”

Under his brother’s intense scrutiny, he drew Robert away.

Once outside Tormod’s hearing, he scowled. “What are ye doing? I’ve nae agreed to your daft scheme, and I’ll nae have these men…” The shouts reverberating in the hall drowned the rest of his words.

Taking Bree and Ruan by the arm, Robert shepherded them from the place, a pleased smile upon his lips.

“What have ye done?” Ruan accused Robert, angry. “Are ye daft? I’ll nae have these men thinking I aim to split the clan!”

“’Tis nae in yer hands now, lad. And what happens next is a matter for the clan,” Robert replied. He smiled indulgently at his nephew. “But we must avenge Colin first, and when we return, we’ll have a gathering of the clan to discuss what needs to be said. Now, be off to the stables, I’ll meet ye there in a wee bit.”

Ruan’s scowl deepened as he made his way in silence, dimly aware Bree was still following him. If Tormod hadn’t wanted him dead before, he certainly would now. The show of support in the hall had all but sealed it. He wished the clansmen had remained silent. He sighed. Why would Fearghus do this? The level of violence was unusual. The man had mostly settled for stealing cattle and sheep in the past.

As he walked into the stables, he ran headlong into Ewan.

The lad jumped back, dropping the saddle slung over his shoulder.

“Nay,” Ruan said, and shook his head. “Nae you, lad, we ride without ye today. Your father has no place in this.”

Ewan opened his mouth to protest.

“Besides, I need ye for other things,” Ruan continued. “Ye’ll have to guard Bree, though I don’t think Tormod will go near her. ‘Tis best to be safe.” Ruan grasped him by the arm and pulled him forward. “If I don’t return, take Merry and Bree to Cameron.”

“Aye!” Robert nodded, joining them to hear the last part. “’Tis a braw plan. Mayhap, we should send them both sooner until matters are settled.”

“Settled?” Ruan turned on his uncle. “I told ye, Robert, I’ll nae be the cause of brother fighting brother—”

“And ye will nae be, I swear it, lad,” Robert interrupted, clasping him firmly on the shoulder.

Ruan stared at him skeptically, before addressing Ewan, “Do ye understand, lad?”

“Aye,” Ewan agreed with a nod, albeit a reluctant one.

The stables bustled with activity. Men led the horses from the stalls while, out on the road, Ruan could hear the rasping of metal as others inspected their weapons. Ruan stalked to his mount, observing Bree from the corner of his eye. She was grim-faced, twisting her hands together tightly. He felt an odd surge of protectiveness mixed with something he knew he should deny and something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I never wanted a wife,” he muttered to Ewan, slamming the saddle onto the back of his horse.

The beast stamped in response, tossing its head.

Ewan raised a brow, but said nothing as he helped adjust the cinch.

“Ach, and even if I were stuck with a wife, I never wanted a respectable one!” Ruan scowled.

Ewan cleared his throat.

Ruan didn’t appreciate the light dancing in the lad’s eyes. Swinging himself into the saddle, he leaned down and growled, “Aye, she means nothing to me. There’s no need for that. She sees the truth of what I am. The poor lass wants to run far away and can ye blame her?”

The horse stomped skittishly and Ewan grabbed the animal’s head with a steadying hand.

“Aye and I’ve no yearning for her, anyway,” Ruan swore under his breath. Surely, that was true. Surely, he could convince himself that was true. He pounded the pommel, frustrated, knowing it was not. “She’s even more bothersome than most!”

The horse stepped sideways under the attack.

“Have ye nothing to say?” Ruan thundered, glaring down at Ewan.

“Nay,” Ewan answered. His eyes twinkled in a manner dangerously close to amusement. “I’m nae the one fooling myself.”

Ruan frowned, but raised a querying brow.

“I’m nae the one falling in love,” Ewan explained with a cocky grin.

At the word, love, Ruan kicked the horse. It leapt forward in response. He pulled the reins sharply and the animal reared in displeasure. It was preposterous. Though he’d never truly loved a woman, he was certain it took much longer than Ewan implied.

The men were almost ready. He had to be going.

Pressing forward, he watched Gerland and Michael mounting their horses. Nearby, he saw Merry clinging to Bree, threading her arms around her neck. Her brown eyes were large with unshed tears. He longed to comfort his small sister and wondered if there would be a time that she wouldn’t have to worry for his return.

Then, his eyes shifted to Bree. Her face was white. Aye, he longed to see the poor lass at ease, and those lips smile. Overwhelmed by a strong wave of protectiveness, he raised his voice to address the clansmen that were not going, “Ye can tell Tormod if he even looks at my wife that I’ll flay him alive. Aye, be he The Macleod or no!”

Cheers erupted at this.

He grimaced at the light in Robert’s eye as he said, “And I’ll be holding each of ye to that, I swear!”

He had no authority to order them to do anything, but they didn’t seem to mind. Instead, they only roared louder, pounding each other on the backs, as if he’d just announced he was splitting the clan. He frowned.

Ewan’s lips cracked into a broad grin.

Masked by the deafening clansmen, he barked in the lad’s ear, “If I dinna return, Ewan, take them both to Cameron. Both. Give me your word!”

Ewan touched his finger to his lips. “I swear to the last drop of my blood!”

Ruan nodded once in satisfaction and then pulled the horse sharply once again, to stop before Bree and Merry. “I’ll return, my Merry wee lass,” he promised, placing his hand over his heart. “This will be the last time, I swear, that ye’ll have to fret so. I’ll take ye wherever ‘tis ye wish.”

“Paris?” Merry asked, her chin trembling.

“Aye, I swear that I’ll take ye to Paris, my Merry lass,” Ruan said, before turning to Bree. Against his will, her expression made his heart thrill in response. It was admiration. She was looking at him with admiration. Aye, Ewan was dangerously perceptive. He was falling for the lass. He was a fool to deny it. For the first time, he wondered if it would be possible to win her love even as he was astounded that he desired to try. Aye, he was a fool to try. He did not even have a shilling in his name.

“Aye, when I return, we’ll be talking,
mo ceisd
,” he finally said and then he thundered away.

It was a week from hell.

They rode hard, sleeping little, as they hunted the men responsible for the unholy attack.

Several times, in the heat of battle, Ruan found arrows assailing him from behind, as in the previous raids. One succeeded in grazing his shoulder. He shared his suspicions with no one, but it heightened his state of alert. Perhaps he was foolish, but he still did not want to believe his own brothers were trying to kill him.

They had found some of the raiders camped in the mountains near several crofts. The encounter was over before Ruan could even order that they be kept alive for questioning. He exchanged heated words with Michael and the others over the loss of the opportunity to gather more information.

It began to rain.

They sloshed through the mud, their bare knees and plaids soaked, as they scoured the moors for signs of the raiders.

A few days later, they stumbled upon another encampment.

Again, Ruan found his attempts to take the men alive thwarted and this time by Gerland.

It was maddening.

The entire incident was unusual, from the manner of Fearghus’ initial attacks to the fact that though these men were dressed in MacDonald plaids, they did not wear them properly. He could have sworn they were shouting in French as the battle ensued. One swarthy man was definitely Spanish. He’d heard him praying aloud as he lay dying on the moors. Gerland’s sword cut it short. It made little sense and Ruan was perplexed how they came to serve Fearghus. That is, if they were in the man’s service at all.

The day was particularly gloomy. The clouds steadfastly refused to let the sun’s rays penetrate their forbidding layers. Ruan spent the night scouting the perimeter of the nearby forest. It was late when he finally returned to the others and discovered Robert had ridden with Michael to investigate a new set of tracks.

Ruan sat tiredly before the fire. Someone thrust a leg of fowl and a few bannocks into his hands. He adjusted his plaid, stretched his long, bare legs with a brooding scowl, and ate quickly. He didn’t trust Michael or Gerland. He was concerned for Robert’s safety.

He was asking what direction they had taken when a wail sounded from the men around him. Springing to his feet, he saw Robert’s horse following the others.

It was without a rider.

He didn’t recall mounting his horse; suddenly, he was just reining alongside Michael. His attention focused solely upon the grey-faced man his brother bore in his arms.

“He’s dead,” Michael said, his voice sounding as if it were from far away. “There was nothing we could do.”

“Aye,” Gerland murmured in agreement.

Finally finding his voice, Ruan asked hoarsely, “Did ye slay the man who did this?”

“He escaped,” Michael answered. “We stopped, trying to save Robert.”

Ruan bowed his head, willing the tears to come, but they were strangely absent. His heart sank. He was responsible for this, first the crofters, and now his uncle. Their deaths were upon his head. He could not think.