“Aye, as you’ve always been.” From the bow, he cupped his hands to his mouth and called to the MacDonald warriors standing at the sea-gate, “I am Duncan MacKenzie, the Laird of Ardan House, second-born son of Colin MacKenzie and I’ve come to speak to the Chief of MacDonald. I wish to enter into peace talks with him this night.”
Into the water, four of the MacDonald’s men waded toward him then gripped the sides of his vessel, their swords and battle axes hooked at their sides. The head man’s drilling gaze landed on him, a gory red scar crossing his forehead, one that barely missed his eye as it flowed down one cheek. “Ye’ll need to await confirmation from my chief afore being permitted any farther onto our land.”
“Duncan MacKenzie!” The Chief of MacDonald thundered down the winding stairs in his great plaid, his massive claymore holstered to his back, the hilt bobbing and catching the moonlight now peppering through the thick layer of darkened cloud above. The man’s beady black eyes glinted in the yellow torchlight at the base of the stony landing. “You’re fortunate I have no’ yet told my archers to release their arrows. By what means have you sailed to my shores this night with your flag of parley raised?”
“I’ve come at my father’s request. Colin MacKenzie wishes for a reconciliation between our clans.” Over the edge of the galley, he bounded and splashed into the water. He’d come and now would do his best to secure this proposal. Surging through the waves, he cut a fast path toward his enemy, gripped the stone landing and hoisted himself up. Water sluiced to his booted feet, his black battle leathers slick and wet, his weapons strapped to his body in every conceivable place. He might have accepted his father’s challenge to sail to Dunscaith for peace talks, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t protect and defend himself if the need arose. “I ask for you to hear me out this night.”
“There will be no peace talks between us.” MacDonald glared at Duncan’s men who rose to their feet in the galley at his snarl. “If either you or any of your men attempt to take my stronghold, I’ll ensure you’re all slaughtered where you stand.”
“Remain at ease.” He stilled his warriors with one hand then to the MacDonald muttered, “My chief requests a marriage of alliance between our clans, and I hereby ask for a formal betrothal agreement to be made between your eldest daughter and myself. ’Tis time to mend the discord between our clans and to move forward. What do you say?”
“Discord? You call our feud that of a simple discord?” Hands fisted at his sides and the muscle in his jaw ticking, MacDonald seethed with anger. “Naught but decades of warring and bloodshed lie between our clans and I will never, ever shackle my eldest daughter to you.”
“I would treasure her, ensure she remained well cared for and of course free to visit you as often as either you or she wished.” His mission to end this warring and gain a betrothal agreement was too important to walk away from now. “I give you my word that would be so.”
“Your word?” The MacDonald spat at his feet. “That is what I think of your—”
“Chief!” A MacDonald guardsman shouted as he ran along the barbican, one hand waving toward the tip of the bay. “Another MacKenzie galley approaches.”
Duncan jerked around. Hell and damnation. His father’s double-mast galley skimmed the waves toward him, his men slashing their oars through the tumbling waves. At the bow, a marksman stood with his longbow and sent an arrow soaring. It arched high then swished down and thunked into the ground, right between him and the MacDonald.
Scowling, MacDonald hauled the arrow from between the cracks in the rocky landing, gripped both ends and snapped it in half over one raised knee. He bellowed to his men on the battlements, “Archers, move into position.” A score of warriors raised longbows and slotted their arrows into place. “Release the arrows. Dinnae allow Colin MacKenzie near our shores.”
Flying high, arrows whizzed over Duncan’s head, one after the other before slicing down and pinging off shields his father’s warriors shoved high over their heads. A roar boomed from his father’s men and the galley caught a peaking wave and glided the whitecaps into shore. As the hull scraped the sea floor, his father and his men bounded over the side and swarmed onto the thin strip of the pebbly shoreline. With a fist pumped into the air, his father released a blood-curdling battle cry. “We take Dunscaith!”
“You are as devious as your father.” MacDonald snarled and snapped at Duncan, thrust his sword high and swung.
Duncan whipped his claymore free and met the deadly blow. Damn his scheming father. He’d placed all their lives on the line this night with his deceitful ways. “I was unaware of my father’s intent to join us.”
The MacDonald’s warriors thundered down the sea-gate stairs and Duncan’s men, left with no choice, bounded from his vessel and flooded the beach. The two clans crashed together with a mighty boom, steel ringing loud against steel.