Highland Thief Page 31

  “Aye, please.” She held up her cup, trying to quell an uneasiness that began to simmer in her stomach.

  “I’ve met your brother several times,” Una said as she poured the ale. “I look forward to meeting him again at the wedding.”

  Everything had happened so quickly that Isobel hadn’t even thought about having a priest marry them. “We’ll have it when the danger is passed and my family and Kerr’s family are both here.”

  “Danger?” the boys exclaimed together, their heads whipping up.

  Isobel glanced at Kerr, wondering if she’d revealed too much. He’d said he wanted to enlist the boys’ help, but maybe he’d wanted to speak to Una about it first.

  “Does this have to do with the assaults on your foster brothers?” Una asked, worry etched onto her face.

  Kerr nodded and pushed his food to the side. “Izzy and I were attacked and almost killed yesterday by an enemy force. Fortunately, we intercepted a note and gold coins intended for a spy at Clan MacAlister. The note indicated another assault is planned in two days’ time at the castle.”

  Una gasped, and the twins shouted out in protest.

  “But that may have changed,” Isobel added reassuringly. “Perhaps he called it off, now that he knows we know.”

  “Or he pushed up the timeline,” Kerr said. “The man is getting more desperate with every loss.”

  Una palmed her forehead and groaned. “That explains it.”

  Kerr’s gaze swung to her sharply. “Explains what?”

  She peered up at him, a distressed look on her face. “Your uncle Dùghlas…”

  “What about him? Tell me, Una.”

  “We’ve been corresponding for years. Mostly him to me—writing isna as easy for me as it is for the lads, but I’ve enjoyed receiving his letters o’er the years. Dùghlas and I were friends before he left for Edinburgh.”

  Kerr’s brow rose. “Close friends?”

  “Not like that,” she answered. “But I was sad when he left, even though I understood. He asked me to go with him, but I couldnae leave my family—not with my da being so ill. Did you know that your mother gave Dùghlas money and helped him escape your father?”

  “Nay, but I suspected. I’m glad she helped him. What has you worried now?”

  Isobel glanced at the door, that uneasy feeling still with her, and suddenly things fell into place. A coldness swept through her as she realized why Una’s gaze kept returning there. She hadn’t felt trapped; she’d been expecting someone. “He’s coming here tonight. Isn’t he?”

  Una and Kerr looked at her, and then understanding dawned on Kerr’s face. He jumped up and strode to the door, drawing his sword.

  When Diabhla whinnied outside, she jumped up from the bench. “It’s too late!”

  A knock sounded—three short raps and two long. Kerr halted, and then he picked up the twins’ swords in their scabbards and tossed them to Aulay and Andy. “Guard your ma and Izzy, and remember what I taught you.”

  Aulay tipped the table over, and the dishes and food crashed to the floor. He pushed his mother down behind it. Grabbing Isobel’s arm, Andy pulled her back too, but she fought him and stayed where she was.

  “Kerr! Branon Campbell said he’d been in Edinburgh. And your uncle—”

  “I know, Izzy.”

  The door burst open, and a slight, redheaded man surged in, his sword out. His gaze landed on Kerr, and something passed between them. Then another man, almost as big and dark as Kerr, shoved past him. “Una!” he yelled.

  Kerr pressed the point of his sword to the man’s chest, stopping him. He froze and raised his gaze to Kerr’s. His eyes widened fearfully, and his cheeks blanched.

  “Uncle Dùghlas,” Kerr said evenly as the redheaded man shut and barred the door behind him. “Why are you here?”

  Dùghlas blinked and slowly let out his breath. “Kerr, ’tis you. For a moment I thought you were Madadh back from the dead. I wasn’t expecting you. It has been many years.” He glanced around the room. His eyes landed on Isobel and the twins, on the overturned table, the broken dishes and spilled food and drink on the floor. “I heard a thump and dishes breaking. I was worried…”

  “Worried about what, Uncle?”

  “About Una and her boys. That I’d brought danger to her door…again.”

  “What do you mean again?” Kerr asked.

  “When I left last time…your father must have known that I’d asked her to go with me. That I cared for her.”

  Understanding surged within Isobel. “’Twas because of you!” she gasped. “He took her to hurt you, not Kerr or his mother.”

  Grief etched into Dùghlas’s face. “Aye,” he croaked. “I should have known he would do it.”

  His gaze returned to the overturned table. “Una, if you’re there, please know again how sorry I am.”

  Isobel waited, and then a moment later Una straightened from her hiding spot.

  “Ma, no!” Aulay exclaimed.

  “’Tis all right, son,” she said. “Dùghlas was a good friend of mine before I birthed you and your brother. He’s a good man.”

  The tears streamed down Dùghlas’s face now, and he dashed them away. “Not so good. I should ne’er have left. I should have killed him.” He looked at Kerr. “Like you did. Still a lad, and you did what I could not.”

  Then he bowed his head and kneeled. “Laird MacAlister, I pledge fealty to you and Clan MacAlister. I am your servant, to be used as you wish, forever more. I have come to tell you of a plot against you.”

  “And your men outside?” Kerr asked.

  Isobel’s brow rose. How did he know there were men outside? She double-checked the windows—aye, they were shuttered to keep out the cool night air. Had the other man somehow conveyed the information to Kerr?

  Dùghlas lifted his head. “They’re my friends, my guild-mates. Not my men. Ten of us, all loyal to one another—a group I fell in with when I first arrived in Edinburgh. We’ve been active every year in performing the folk plays during the feast of Corpus Christi.”

  “And you brought them with you when your clan is on the brink of war—and you’re in the middle of it?” Kerr asked.

  “Nay, I couldnae stop them. They came of their own accord when they saw I was leaving. They knew something was wrong and that I was in danger.”

  Kerr lowered his sword, grasped his elbow, and helped him stand. “Tell me everything, Uncle.”

  “I’ve been approached by a man who wants me to take o’er Clan MacAlister. I pretended to agree because I knew if I didn’t, he—they—would kill me. The plan is to get rid of you and put me in your place. In a year or so, I would be next, and they would take over.” He grasped Kerr’s arm. “We need to act together. I am supposed to meet the man in the village tomorrow night. I had hoped to find you at the castle beforehand and decide what to do. This is even better.”

  Behind Dùghlas, the redheaded man moved his fingers. Isobel watched, fascinated, as Kerr nodded almost imperceptibly. Was it some kind of code between them? And who was this man?

  “When did he approach you?” Kerr asked.

  “In the spring. He came into my workshop in Edinburgh. At first I thought he looked familiar, with dark hair and light eyes, but I couldnae place him. I knew better than to contradict him. He was dangerous despite his easygoing facade.”

  “His name?”

  “He wouldnae tell me, but at one point, I heard someone refer to him as Bran or Breandan or something similar.”

  “Branon,” she said, and Kerr nodded.

  “Aye, that could be it. He…he reminded me of your father, playing games with words, testing me, friendly one moment and then deadly the next. I went along with him, but I sent you a letter as soon as I could.” He turned to the man behind him. “Malcolm, tell him what you know.”

  Malcolm stepped f
orward. He bowed his head to Kerr. “Laird. Everything Dùghlas has said is true. I sent the missives two days before we left Edinburgh. Not only to Clan MacAlister but to all the lairds in your alliance.”

  Dùghlas looked surprised. “Good thinking, Malcolm. He did that on his own. He’s the smartest apprentice I’ve e’er had.”

  Kerr nodded. “I’m sure he is. ’Tis good my brothers know. They will proceed with caution, and Callum in particular will be thinking five steps ahead.” He sheathed his sword in the scabbard that hung down his back. “Aulay, Andy, help clean up the mess. We need to plan.”

  “Do your mates want some ale?” Isobel asked. “You must be parched after your journey.”

  “Aye, thank you, lass.”

  “Maybe some food too.” She looked at Una. “I can help.”

  Una nodded and picked up the pitcher from the floor. “Of course.” She hurried to the counter and started preparing.

  Dùghlas stepped closer and bowed his head to her. “My lady, I am Dùghlas MacAlister.” He looked from her to Kerr and then back again. “Are you…?”

  “Aye,” Kerr said, laying a hand on the small of her back. “Dùghlas, this is my wife, Isobel.”

  Dùghlas beamed. “Of course! And as lovely in person as they claim in the song.” He gently picked up Isobel’s hand and turned it to look at the amethyst ring on her thumb. His eyes filled with tears again. Truly, he was a gentle soul with an overflowing heart. “Your mother’s ring. She tried to give it to me when I left, but I told her to save it for you. That one day you would give it to a woman you loved as much as you loved her.”

  Kerr swallowed and nodded. “And I did.”

  Then Dùghlas broke into song with a deep, lush tenor—the song penned about her, the one she usually hated. But this time, she lost herself in the wonderful richness of his voice, and when he came to those all-important lyrics, she listened carefully, wanting so desperately for him to sing them correctly.

  “As I looked upon thee, I saw the Beauty of the Highlands.”

  She relaxed and smiled up at Kerr. Glad for him, and for Una—for all of them—that Dùghlas could be trusted.

  ***

  “There’s another way in,” Dùghlas said, waving Kerr over to sit on the log beside him. They’d built a fire in the yard, and Dùghlas and his men were eating and drinking the food and ale that Una, Isobel, and the lads had handed out.

  Dùghlas’s mates were a friendly bunch, witty and entertaining. When he introduced Kerr and Isobel to them, they broke out into a theatrical version of Izzy’s song. Kerr wagered that if she hadn’t been laughing so hard, she would have pummeled them for it.

  From what he could gather, they were artists and craftsmen and even actors and bards in their spare time; some sang, others played instruments and wrote song lyrics—a perfect fit for the artistry in Dùghlas’s soul that his brother had tried to destroy.

  Kerr grinned at the antics, happy and relieved that his uncle had found happiness.

  He sat on the log and leaned toward Dùghlas. “You mean…a place to climb over the castle wall? I resealed the mortar years ago, so it’s smooth and difficult to climb.”

  “Nay. I’m not talking about the wall, I’m talking about the tunnels in the castle and under the wall. They were my sanctuary when I was a lad. ’Tis how I escaped so much of Madadh’s brutality.”

  Kerr found himself speechless. What tunnels?

  Isobel came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “What are you two talking about?”

  “The bloody tunnels in my castle,” he roared. “That I knew naught about.”

  “Oh, aye,” she said, nodding her head.

  “Oh, aye? That’s all you have to say?”

  “Well, ’tis a castle. We have them at Castle MacKinnon.”

  Kerr shook his head. “Unbelievable. Who showed them to you?” he asked Dùghlas. “Obviously not my father.”

  “Nay, I found them myself. I spent much of my childhood alone, hiding in the library. I started searching for them after I found a letter written by my great-great-grandfather that referenced one of them.” His brow furrowed in the firelight. “I hid in there for four days once when Madadh first became laird and was on a tear.” He looked across at Una, still pouring ale. “If I’d stayed, maybe I could have saved her.”

  “You canna think that way,” Isobel said, stepping around Kerr to sit on his lap. He liked how she snuggled into him, free with her affection. “If Una had been saved early on, she wouldnae have had Andy and Aulay, and she would ne’er wish for that.”

  Dùghlas sighed. “I had no idea my brother knew I cared for her. She was my first real friend—her heart so open and accepting. I ne’er felt like a misfit around her.”

  Isobel leaned forward and patted his uncle’s knee, but Kerr’s mind was spinning with all the new possibilities. “Where does the tunnel under the wall come out?” he asked. “Do we need to sneak in at night, or—”

  “We are not sneaking in,” Isobel said firmly. “You are the clan’s laird. The people are fortunate to have you. And I am their lady. We will ride through the village with our heads up high and smiles on our faces. You will introduce me as your wife, remind them of our alliance, and that they are safe and prosperous because of you. And then we will invite them to our home for a celebratory feast!”

  The others’ laughter had died down, and when Isobel stopped talking, the crackling fire was the only sound breaking the silence.

  “We will remind them what it was like to live under the yoke of your father,” she continued. “The injustice and cruelty they faced on a daily basis. Open communication will win their hearts and minds and bring to light what is hidden in the dark.”

  “And if we’re attacked, Izzy?” Kerr asked. “What then?”

  “Then you will fight, and you will win. Kerr Anghos Finnian MacAlister, you are the greatest Highland warrior this land has e’er seen!”

  A cheer went up from Dùghlas and his friends. “Make an entrance!” they exclaimed. “The MacAlister laird and his lady. The Beauty of the Highlands and the Greatest Highland Warrior! And we will be your guard.”

  Andy and Aulay raced over.

  “Can we come with you, Kerr?” Andy asked. “We can fight too. We’ll do everything exactly as you taught us.”

  “Aye, we can hide in the trees and shoot them with arrows!” Aulay exclaimed.

  Kerr wanted to say no and lock the boys up. If he didn’t, he knew they would follow him. He wanted to lock Isobel up, too, and keep her safe with Una until he returned.

  Neither was the right choice, though. He needed them.

  All of them.

  He looked at his wife, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “Where will we place the sharpshooters?” He knew the answer, but he wanted her to know it too.

  She stared at him for a moment, the firelight glancing off her hair and throwing highlights and shadows across her face. She looked like a goddess of old, and inside he grunted with approval.

  Finally, she was his lady—and ruler by his side.

  She raised her chin ever so slightly and straightened her shoulders in that queenly fashion he loved. And then she spoke with authority.

  “At our castle.”

  “Aye, Lady MacAlister. We’ll sneak them in and put them in the rafters of our home.”

  ***

  Isobel wrapped her arm around Una’s shaking shoulders. The slight, redheaded woman had tears streaming down her face and her hands clamped over her mouth, undoubtedly holding in an anguished howl.

  How could she not? Her lads were going to war.

  They rode on either side of Dùghlas, their swords on their hips, a bow across their shoulders and a quiver of arrows across their backs. Kerr had given a note to Dùghlas for Father Lundie, the only other person at the castle he knew he could trust. He�
��d also told Dùghlas that the steward, Fearchar MacAlister, was a spy. His uncle needed to incapacitate the traitor before Kerr and Isobel arrived.

  Dùghlas frowned darkly upon hearing that news and muttered under his breath. Isobel sensed he already had a history with the steward—and not a happy one.

  Standing beside Malcolm, whom she now knew was a spy placed with Dùghlas years ago, Kerr watched them go, a troubled look on his face. The Merry Men—the name they’d given to Dùghlas’s band of friends—gathered around them, shouting their goodbyes and wishing them good fortune.

  Kerr had spoken to Una first about the plan to send the lads to the castle through the secret tunnel in order to set them up as snipers. They were to spot any other archers on the wall or in the crowd and take them out before they could hurt him or Isobel.

  As much as it pained her, Una had agreed. She knew that the twins would follow them no matter what, and at least at the castle they would be hidden and kept out of the fray if a battle broke out.

  But the mission was still dangerous, and Isobel wished that Kerr had sent Malcolm along with them.

  Slowly, the three of them faded from sight as the night swallowed them up. A moan broke from Una’s mouth, and she turned and fled into the cottage.

  “Una!” Isobel cried out, and then hurried after her.

  She hovered at the door, not wanting to intrude but also desperate to give comfort to this brave, resilient woman who had collapsed, sobbing, on a bed in the corner.

  Her need to comfort her won out, and she rushed to the woman’s side and sat with her, rubbing her back as her own tears fell. The last person she’d comforted in this way had been Deirdre, when Gavin had left to battle the MacIntyres and the MacColls—his allies at his side.

  This battle was different. They were alone, and they didn’t know whom to trust. They had to march boldly into the castle with their clan and claim their rightful home, routing out the spies and traitors who would let the enemy in and try to kill their laird and lady.

  And they would need Una’s help.