Highlander's Faerie (Highlander Heat #5)

“I know of a MacLean warrior named Finlay. He was often assigned to watch-point duty. The man had eagle eyes and could move like a shadow. Since one of Lachlan’s greatest battle strategies is to keep a close eye on his enemy, I’ve no doubt one or two of his warriors continue to remain on Islay even though they lost the battle at the Rhinns.”


“All to oars and ready the sail.” John strode to the helm, a commanding presence with his brown and blond streaked hair brushing his claymore strapped in a baldric across his back. He appeared every inch a warrior prepared to battle. Pumping a fist in the air, he shouted, “We search for MacLeans and will remove any threat against our clan.”

The men rowed then as the sail caught the fresh breeze, the birlinn sped out of the bay and beyond her sight toward the north. In the courtyard, dust plumed as the strong contingency of mounted warriors galloped out the gate and rode into the forest.

“You’ll need to take great care if you’re experiencing such visions, Katherine.” Mary breathed deep. “You must no’ speak of them around any other than those you hold absolute trust with. These are dangerous days for any who might be called out as a witch. The stake is no place for you.”

“I’ll be careful, very careful. Let’s go for that walk.” She looped her arm through Mary’s and guided her out the door.

“Moving certainly eases the pain and the midwife will have me abed for a sennight or more once the babe is born. I long to feel the sunshine on my face afore the opportunity passes me by.”

“Then sunshine you’ll get.” She wandered with Mary down the winding stairwell and into the great hall where beautiful tapestries hung on the stone walls. Above the blazing fireplace, a massive two-handed great sword encrusted with precious stones, glinted. She rounded the trestle tables and ambled past a maid wiping the elevated dais’s tabletop. Near the door, a boy wearing tan breeches two inches too short and a long green tunic, swept dust into a pile.

They eased past him, walked outside and crossed the stony courtyard where a cart had been loaded with supplies and tools to complete the rebuild at Ardbeg. Following an attack by the MacLeans a few short weeks ago, fires had raged and destroyed a number of longhouses within the seaside village. A score of warriors left each day to join the villagers and aid them in repairing their homes.

They continued on, through the arched gates then down the steep trail to the lower courtyard. Along the pebbly beach, white-capped waves tumbled in and retreated leaving dense foam and tangled seaweed.

A guard followed them then halted a short distance away, ensuring their protection even as he allowed them a little privacy. He scanned the forest’s tree line, his gaze on the constant move.

Katherine couldn’t help but shake her head. “I hate that we all have to live so on guard.”

“Aye, but this is lovely, being outside. ’Tis just what I needed.” Mary waddled across to a boulder and perched on top of it, her burgundy skirts skimming the stones around her. She surveyed the bay and smiled as two fishermen rowed their skiff in and hauled it half onto the beach. They knelt before flat stones and cleaned their catch as a maid with her hair hidden underneath a frilly white linen cap dashed down from the castle with a wooden pail and set it next to the men.

Katherine sat on the boulder next to Mary. “I need you to tell me more about Lachlan. John enlightened me this morning about how the feud began, but I feel as if there’s more to it.”

“Of course, if it shall aid you. Lachlan was my father’s only son, his heir and successor.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “My sisters and I adored him, although Lachlan grew up well afore his time since Father passed when he was only fifteen. He was still a minor when he had to lead our clan. Even so, we called him Big Lachlan. Fifteen he may have been, but no one could miss him in a crowd, no’ when he towered over them all. His skills were immense, and he excelled with the sword. He also learnt at a young age that if he wished to hold his position then he needed to fight. He battled, for land, for his kin, and for all that he desired.” She rolled her shoulders and stretched her back. “As such, little ever escaped Lachlan’s notice. He’s a strategist, as my father never was.”

“Your father died young, didn’t he?”

“Aye, and he enjoyed his pleasures and burdened our clan with large debts in his five years as chief. Now Lachlan wars as he does in order to return to our clan all Father lost.”

A seagull squawked as it circled overhead. It followed the maid as she clomped back uphill toward the castle, her full pail scraping the odd bump in the winding track.

She rose and edged in behind Mary. “Children in this day grow up far faster than they should, but to lead an entire clan at fifteen is quite an accomplishment.” With one knee resting on the boulder, she bent and massaged Mary’s lower back. “Tell me if this helps or hurts.”