Highland Persuasion (The MacLomain Series- Early Years) Page 6

  When at last they unhorsed, Jameson bowed, “Much welcome, Iosbail of the Broun clan.”

  She lowered her eyes briefly but nothing else. “Much thanks.”

  Formalities obviously honored, Jameson turned and embraced Alexander and Shamus like long lost brothers. “Too long!” he cried.

  Smiles wide, the men followed Jameson into the center hut. Iosbail, disjointed and not quite sure of their situation, saw to Caitriona. The poor lass was wide eyed and afraid.

  “Come with me,” Iosbail said softly when a Mason lass nodded at her to follow. “We’re safe.”

  Relieved, Caitriona followed them into a small cottage nearby. Pleased, Iosbail accepted a change of clothing for her and her lady. Brown and functional, the clothing felt like the first normal thing she’d worn in ages. It was only when the lass led her and Caitriona out of the cottage into a stone tunnel lit by torches that Iosbail began to gawk at the absolutely stunning stonemanship around them. Aye, she knew what the Masons would eventually be capable of but how could all of this be possible this early in history?

  Iosbail never released Caitroina’s hand as they walked down the stone stairs. The descent was surprisingly long. Small torches lined their journey to a place even a five hundred year old witch could not imagine. Because of that, she never stopped paying attention to details. Every marking on the stone meant something, every slash and cross on the floor, another. If there was a curve carved into a nook, she noticed. If a loop was scratched into the center of the ceiling above, she noticed.

  Still, they traveled down.

  When they reached a large, oval torch-lit room at the bottom, Iosbail squeezed Caitriona’s hand and stood taller. She need not have the gift now to know that this was a place of not only great but very old magic. Alexander and Shamus were already there; dressed not in kilts but in the same long, drab brown robes, each with a satchel and a weapon. A chill ran through her.

  Iosbail knew in an instant. “We travel to Leodhais.”

  Alexander, far more intimidating than she expected him capable, walked to her and she released Caitriona’s hand. Not to take his hand but to clench her fists in frustration.

  “The Outer Hebrides await. You ken the meaning?”

  “You mean to travel through the Hebrides to Argyll.”

  The Sinclair nodded. “The standing stones will make our journey far shorter.”

  “For some,” Iosbail hissed, angry. “For most, nay!”

  “For us, aye,” Alexander said and turned, not giving her a chance to respond. “Come now.”

  “I will not.”

  When he turned Iosbail saw not the steely determination of his eyes but fiery silver. Her breath whooshed from her chest. Her knees grew weak. In one look he nearly sucked the humanity from her. Furious she shook her head. “Nay!”

  “Aye!” He roared.

  The ground rumbled. The cave walls shook. It took sheer will power not to fall to his feet, not to cower beneath his strength. Her eyes widened. Alexander had great magic. When was it exactly she assumed he didn’t? Iosbail ground her teeth. Mayhap it’d been when he was posing for her on a rock with his muscles strong and his cock long.

  Bloody Sinclairs!

  “’Tis one of the most dangerous places in Scotland and well you know it,” she said.

  “We willnae be there long.”

  Iosbail shook her head. “The clans there are of the wildest, most violent and strongest in the Viking magi. Even if I had my powers, you, Shamus and I would not nearly possess the strength to fight them. ‘Tis with good reason I’ve steered clear of the spot for five hundred years even though I am immortal!”

  Alexander was quite clearly stuck in his ways. “I know precisely what and who you are, Iosbail. With or without your powers, the four of us do not have the means or protection to travel so far alone. We will pass through the Hebrides but briefly. From there we travel to the Cowal Peninsula where the MacLomains will no doubt be waiting. This decision is final.”

  “Fool,” she muttered. Even though Iosbail was up for a good adventure, this truly tested her limits. But being left behind wasn’t an option. If for no other reason than that she didn’t want Caitriona to be on her own with them.

  Or so she tried to convince herself.

  The Norman lass’s eyes were round as saucers as Iosbail took her hands and explained gently, “We will travel far in a short time. When we do you will smell sweet fire, feel lightheaded and hear what sounds to be thunder ripping apart the whole of Scotland. It will be a petrifying experience.”

  Shamus and Alexander stared at Iosbail, incredulous.

  “Was that your way of comforting her, lassie?” Shamus asked.

  Iosbail looked from the men to Caitriona and back. “The lass deserves the truth. She will follow me regardless.”

  Alexander rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Brouns.”

  Caitriona nodded in acquiesce when Shamus looked at her in question.

  “Fine then. ‘Tis time to go,” Alexander said.

  Jameson appeared wearing long dark robes with a small symbol emblazoned across a wrap. Like his clan, this masonic symbol would endure the generations and travel the world. It would be as shrouded in mystery a thousand years from now as it was this day. “The new moon soon reaches its zenith. Be ready, my friends.”

  Iosbail closed her eyes. She knew well the power of such a moon. Unlike a full moon, it harnessed and embraced change. Even this far below the ground vibrations filled the air. Only five stones stood in the center of the room, each about five feet tall, each smooth and angled. If lines were drawn, they would form a pentagram. She held Caitriona’s hand and said, “Have no fear.”

  The four stood in the center of the stones, Jameson outside.

  When the chanting began, Iosbail by instinct joined. Having left out what Caitriona would actually see, everything else they began to experience was exactly as she had described it. Much like when they’d jumped off the cliff days before their hands were ripped apart. Wind whipped. Thunder boomed. The air grew first thick then thin. Black clouds twisted around her and it felt like the floor dropped from beneath.

  Iosbail braced herself for arrival.

  In a split second the ground seemed to reappear and she crumbled. Though not a hard fall, it was more jarring than what she was used to. She blinked rapidly and tried to focus only to realize a thin layer of fog hugged her surroundings. When she raised her head, Iosbail felt both a sharp thrill and chill run through her. Unlike the Highlands, this island’s mountains rose to the sky not in glory but in sharp, rugged, unforgiving beauty. Thicker and more mysterious, wide swathes of fog floated low around the beasties, cloaking them in an ethereal beauty she found immensely alluring.

  The next thing she knew Alexander was pulling her to her feet and dragging her after him. “No time to admire.”

  They didn’t go far but ducked into an alcove between a mountain and a large bent tree with wide roots. Protected from rain and virtually hidden by rock, root and dirt, Alexander immediately dug into his satchel. Shamus and Caitriona were with them within seconds.

  When the Sinclair tossed boots and a MacLomain plaid her way she understood. If any clansman would be welcome in these unpredictable lands it would be a MacLomain. Apparently it'd been too risky to wear these when with the Masons. Iosbail suspected they'd been made quickly with magic. She watched with amusement as Alexander shoved on black boots, a tunic and another clan’s colors. What a thing it must be for a Sinclair chieftain to lose his red for the greens and blues of the MacLomains.

  The other two soon followed suit.

  Iosbail gave Caitriona credit. Though she shook, the lass seemed to be keeping up without going into hysterics. Again she wondered what the girl’s true part in all of this was. The more she watched her, the more Iosbail saw clearly an enduring spirit that merely awaited it’s time to shine.

  “We’ll travel further inland for the eve. ‘Twill be thrice nights before we can use the Stonehenge aga
in to travel the rest of the way.” Alexander’s sharp eyes took in their surroundings. ‘Until then, we survive.”

  The men shoved the brown robes they’d been wearing into their satchels. If they survived thrice nights they’d be lucky, but in truth several weeks traveling across the whole of Scotland most likely would’ve been just as deadly. Besides the claymores strapped to their backs, the men carried no weapon save whatever they may have stashed in those bags.

  When they set out it was with only hours left of daylight and no real sense of direction.

  Yet it seemed the Sinclair had wits about him after all. He kept to the shadows of the mountain and when darkness arrived, he’d managed to find a crude inlet sheltered by mountain on either side. Though it offered little more than a trickle of water down its side there was enough room for four and a good location in which to defend themselves.

  “We’ll build a small fire in this corner,” Alexander said. “’Twill cast no reflection.”

  Shamus nodded then vanished. He went to hunt game or whatever he could find at this altitude, most likely a scavenger bird. Iosbail again set to making Caitriona comfortable while Alexander used not magic but wiles to get the fire started. She understood why. Magic could sense magic. It was enough that they’d traveled to the Stonehenge. There was no need to send out yet another beacon when a fire could be lit otherwise.

  Though the girl had to be hungry, once Iosbail had the lass settled her eyes drifted shut. By that time, Alexander had created a small but much welcomed flame. When they sat by the fire, Iosbail realized it was the first time she didn’t feel at arms when with the man. Not that she held any great favor; the Sinclair had simply become a traveling companion.

  “Thrice days is a long time,” she murmured.

  “Aye,” he replied. “’Twill be fine, lass.”

  Iosbail was surprised by the assurance and met his eyes. “You need not convince me but those who you’ve dragged into this venture.”

  She swore he sighed not in reluctance but in exasperation.

  He crossed his long legs, the MacLomain plaid pulling up to reveal solid muscle. “I have full faith in our ability to survive. We’ve made it this far.”

  “This far?” She looked skyward. “We’ve not traveled nearly so far as what this place will offer us. If we manage off this island, we will not be the same, this I dinnae doubt.”

  “Doubt.” Alexander shrugged. “’Tis something you’re good at.”

  Iosbail shook her head. “I have lived a verra long time. I’ve a good head for survival and this, Sinclair, is not a good situation.”

  “Yet you’re here.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “You always had a choice.”

  “Nay.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Without me magic and with a lass I willnae see hurt, I’ve been given no choice.”

  Alexander eyed her for several long seconds. “So ‘tis the lass you blame this on and not your need for a good adventure?”

  Iosbail would not be baited. After all, she now knew he possessed not only cunning but a healthy dose of magic. “Aye, I do like a good adventure but I appall a lamb being led to slaughter.”

  “So you assume, even without magic, that Caitriona is the lamb being led to her death and you, of course, will survive.”

  “Naturally!” Iosbail shook her head. “Wizard though you might be, Alexander, you are still so verra young and uncouth.”

  He sat forward, quicksilver eyes on hers. “Unlike you I’ve not the time of an immortal. Instead, I’ve the passion and drive of a lad with only one life to live. How you must envy the concept.”

  Anger flared. He’d hit a nerve. She too leaned forward. “As you so ably did me, I’ll not point out your flaws as you surely have them. Instead, consider this, without this immortal by your side you’d have no way out of your current plight. While I may be your enemy you are nothing without me.”

  “Never said I was,” he replied easily. “But at least I’m smart enough to sidle myself alongside useful enemies than be caught vulnerable in a situation that I have no control over.”

  “You underestimate how much control I have.”

  The Sinclair arched a lazy brow. “Do I, wife?”

  Iosbail remained cool though she wanted to smack him. “Remember, though you’ve got us this far ‘tis all a climb from this point. Your blood runs red and death can come easily.”

  Strange how when she said it aloud her chest tightened and her heartbeat increased. What was it about time spent with Alexander that made her more aware of death than ever before? She’d hated others many times before and never felt this way. She’d loved many times before and never felt this way.

  What made him so unique?

  “At least I’ll know when death finds me that I never turned coward and that I fought for what I wanted from this life,” he said.

  Her heart flipped and her head grew light. “Do you refer to the child I left behind? If so, know this, had I not left him then a lineage so crucial to great loves in the future would never have been possible. I did what I did for the greater good. I did what I did for the love of my clan and for a remarkable future for my child, one I would never have been able to provide.”

  Instead of lashing back, Alexander’s eyes flickered slowly to the fire then back to hers and he softly said, “I might blame you for many things but your Irish bairn is not one. As I hear it, you did best for all who mattered. Know this…” His voice softened further. “If your choices meant a better life for him and you knew it to be true in your heart then you show me something admirable in your person, nothing less, nothing more.”

  Ready to fight and defend her heartache, Iosbail found herself suddenly without words. Alexander did not condemn but supported the hardest decision of her life. It was a difficult emotion when one found themselves unsure whether to lash out or concede to their rival. But as their eyes held she realized that the Sinclair spoke truthfully.

  He’d meant every word.

  It was because of his compassion that she found herself saying, “My son began the lineage that will birth a lad named, Liam O’Donnell.” Iosbail smiled fondly. “’Twill be he who ensures the Broun’s find the MacLomain’s in the best way possible. ‘Tis a touching story.” She got lost in the flame, felt her eyes water. “A story I should not know of but do. You see it will all start to happen a hundred years from now.”

  “I cannae imagine the weight you carry not only from the past but the future.”

  Her eyes flickered to his, again surprised by his compassion. She whispered, “’Tis no grand thing being immortal… I grow weary.”

  His hand clenched as though it sought to soothe hers. “You would not be what you are had the gods not wished it. Do you believe in Destiny?”

  Iosbail blinked away an infuriating tear and sat up straighter. “No need to believe. She exists.”

  “Then there you go,” Alexander said quickly. “The upside to your immortality is that every move you’ve made all these long years was meant to be. There was a design and not a moment was for naught.”

  It was impossibly hard to look at him without thanks in her eyes. Laird Alexander, her sworn enemy, made her feel whole and peacefully without doubt when not a soul had been able to in such a long time…if ever. Their eyes held. When Iosbail found it hard to swallow, she was startled by the sheer emotion.

  A low whistle, almost identical to the sound of the wind, reached her ears. Their eyes unlocked when Alexander released a low, nearly inaudible sound in response. Within a minute Shamus appeared with several birds flung over his shoulder. Iosbail didn’t miss the way his gaze flickered between her and Alexander as though he sensed he walked into a private conversation.

  Iosbail licked her lips and took a deep breath. She didn’t much like what had transpired between her and the Sinclair. It had been too much of something she found unfamiliar. To distract she grabbed one of the satchels and drew out what she knew would be there, her dagger. With a c
ome hither motion she took one of the birds from Shamus and started to skin it.

  “So what of the lay of the land?” Alexander asked.

  “We need to head out early. There’s another good spot miles out but we’ll have to walk fast. These mountains provide far more sheer planes than alcoves. Trees become scarcer. Get to that spot tomorrow, find another cover for the next night then head back this way.”

  Alexander grunted and took a bird. “Not the news I wanted.”

  Shamus started to skin another bird. “No caves or tunnel as far as I could scout. The only mystery in these parts seems to be the stones that got us here. The rest are sturdy mountains.”

  “Is our next location as sheltered as this?” Iosbail asked. “If not, are there others? Is it safer to break up, travel in pairs?”

  Eyes to task, the Irishman shrugged. “I’ll know better once I see the location.”

  “How many weapons do we have?” she asked.

  “Two claymores, two daggers, and one small knife.” Alexander winked.

  Naturally, he’d known about her extra blade all along. She nodded. “’Tis always the smallest blade that saves the day.”

  He nodded his head in return. “Aye.”

  Shamus looked between them with a small smile on his face but said nothing.

  While she knew this a good time to let silence reign, Iosbail also thought it a good time to learn more, to try to reconnect. “So Shamus, how exactly was it that you saved Alexander.”

  A wide smile broke over the Irishman’s face. “I didnae travel back exactly where I meant to.”

  “And where was that?”

  “To you of course!” Shamus shook his head. “But as it turned out, you didnae keep to Scotland as I thought you would.”

  Intrigued, she asked, “And why did you think I would keep to Scotland?”

  Alexander chuckled, “North, lass. North!”

  “Why north?”

  Shamus took all the skinned birds and put them on a crudely constructed spit over the fire. “As I recall, you loved the north of Eire. To my mind it made perfect sense that you’d keep north in the new land.”