The Niece of His Highland Enemy by Alisa Adams
3
Edmund returned to the stable just in time to see Fergus bundling the woman up in the blankets and placing her back on the bench where she’d been sleeping before.
“How did she fare during the night?” Edmund asked. He tried to keep his voice hearty and jovial in order to hide his concern for his dear friend, for the truth was, Fergus was staring at the girl and fussing with her like a man possessed.
“She seems well enough,” Fergus replied, still not taking his eyes off her. “In body, at least. As for her mind and spirit, they seem badly shaken. She awoke briefly earlier, then swooned again without saying a word or giving any clue as to her origins.”
Edmund crossed his arms. “Sailors often tell tales of sirens at sea. It is said that the poor souls who look upon their beauty are lured to a horrible briny death.”
Fergus finally allowed his eyes to meet Edmund’s. “You feel she is such a creature, then?” He was attempting to sound derisive and dismissive, but even so, Edmund could still hear a peculiar edge to his friend’s voice, as though the young laird was more intent on convincing himself that such an idea was ludicrous and impossible.
“I do not believe in such superstitions,” Edmund answered. “That does not mean she might not have an ill effect upon you just the same.”
“How so?”
“I believe she has arrived at precisely the worst time. She is distracting you, Fergus. She is providing you with a perfect reason to ignore your duties as laird, to avoid facing your own men in the wake of your defeat, and to postpone considering your next course of action in defense of your clan.”
Fergus scowled. “This is why you have come here, then? To lecture me so?”
Edmund raised an eyebrow. “I came to look in on you and on the girl as well. I came to inform you that your bedchamber is no longer occupied by wounded men, so you may return to it if you wish. I’ll not deny that the mood in the castle is bleak today, but most of your soldiers and servants will likely be ready to look upon you this day without anger or judgment.” He gestured toward the woman. “I will remain here in your stead so that you may see to your duties as laird. Once she wakes again, I will hear her story and do all I can to see that she is taken to a place where she will be safe and cared for.”
Even as he spoke the words, though, Edmund knew how Fergus would respond, and he was not wrong. “No,” the laird proclaimed. “I shall return to my chamber, but she will remain with me. I am the one who took her from that beach. She is my responsibility.”
“No, earning back the trust of your people is your responsibility!” Edmund retorted, exasperated. “You must show them that you are fully focused on redeeming the Brodie clan after such a gruesome thrashing as we’ve endured! How much faith do you expect them to have in you if they find you lost in an infatuation for some strange lass with a pretty face instead of seeing to the best interests of your kinsmen?”
“Is that how you feel as well, Edmund?” Fergus challenged. “That I have no concern for my own clan? That I am unfit to lead?”
Edmund sighed, his eyes filled with sympathy for his friend. “We have known each other our entire lives, Fergus Brodie. I know how committed you are to being a wise, strong, and just leader to these people, as your father was before you. I have always believed that you are up to the task, and I still do today. However, I must confess that I am bewildered by your sudden obsession with this woman.” And deeply troubled by it as well, he added mentally.
For a moment, it looked like Fergus was about to grow even angrier with his friend, but then his expression softened, and he took a deep breath like a man about to dive into uncertain waters.
“You may have no use for superstitions, Edmund,” Fergus began, “and in truth, there are few other men to whom I would admit that I do harbor several such beliefs of my own, in the most private recesses of my heart. I discovered her on the shore, old friend, during a moment when my soul was more tormented and raw than it had ever been before. If ever there were a time for God above to send me a message, it would have been then, at the apex of my grief and shame. And sure enough, he has.”
“You believe the girl is a message from the Lord, then?” As he asked, Edmund stole a careful glance at the lass, hoping she was sleeping deeply so that she would not hear Fergus’s words. Edmund had no reason to trust her and every reason to believe that if she knew Fergus thought she was a missive straight from the Almighty, she would use that to her advantage any way she could.
That’s all we bloody need now, Edmund thought bleakly. For her to suddenly sit bolt upright and claim to be a member of the heavenly host, sent to guide the laird in his time of greatest need. With the right words and a willing audience, she could easily convince him to indulge her in feasts, grand chambers, luxury, riches…even his hand in marriage, if it came to that. She could bring the entire clan to its knees if it took her fancy to do so.
In fact, for all we know, she was sent by someone to do exactly that.
That last thought didn’t sit well with Edmund at all.
“I found her on the shore, don’t you see?” Fergus went on. “According to legend, the earth, sea, and sky are sacred in their coming together. They are meant to witness momentous deeds and times of great significance. Could it be that the girl is a personification of those elements? That she has come to us at this specific moment so that we might regain our lands and our honor?”
In truth, Fergus had not known he would say any of these things until they tumbled from his mouth, and once they had, he realized that he meant every word. He felt this connection deep in his bones, even if he was unable to understand it: the earth, the sea, and the sky. Himself, the girl, and his defeat in battle. They were linked.
And he was seized with the need to find out how. He was oddly certain that if he could discover the answers to these riddles, he could save his clan from the bloodshed he had brought down upon it.
The lass was the key. She would be able to tell him what he needed to know. He was sure of it.
Edmund put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Fergus, I know you have struggled mightily with the grim turn of events at yesterday’s battle. I know you seek answers. But the only way for us to find them is to learn why Laird Ronald Campbell would ally himself with the Sinclairs.”
Fergus nodded. “It is a bloody puzzlement, isn’t it? The Campbells have had no allegiance to the Sinclairs in the past, so far as anyone knows. They have not been hostile to us before now. So why in blazes would they join a fight against us?”
“I do not know. But until we discover the truth of it, our odds of dispatching our enemies will be slim indeed. Now come, we’ll bring this girl of yours to the castle. It would not be appropriate for her to stay in your chamber, but now that many of yesterday’s injured have been seen to and sent back to their homes, I have no doubt we can find guest quarters for her.” Edmund raised a finger warningly. “But mark me well, Fergus: If you want the support of your clan, you must not appear to be lovesick over this lass, else they will assume your attentions are indisposed, and their faith in you may be badly shaken.”
Fergus smiled wryly. “Barking orders as you do, mayhap you should be laird.”
“Aye, mayhap I should,” he answered with a laugh.
The two men gently carried the girl to Edmund’s horse and laid her across the saddle. Then they led the horse and its unconscious rider back to the castle.
Once they arrived, Fergus found a servant girl. “Find chambers for this woman,” he commanded, “and dry clothes as well. When she wakes, inform me at once.”
“Yes, Laird,” the servant answered with a small curtsy. She gestured for a few others to assist her in getting the lass down from the horse and carrying her inside.
Fergus excused himself from Edmund, then strolled the corridors of the keep aimlessly, lost in thought.
The Campbells.
They had not quite been allies of the Brodies, but they’d never been at odds either. No quarrels or skirmishes, no disputes over lands. He even went to the library and searched through all the written histories of the clan to make sure he hadn’t forgotten some small insult or failed betrothal between them generations ago.
Nothing.
Ronald Campbell was sometimes referred to as a strange duck in how he handled his affairs, and he was not known as the most compassionate of men, perhaps, but neither was he reputed to be a mad dog, baring his teeth at random and looking for fights where he could find them.
The Sinclairs were largely a grubby, fish-stinking band of pirates and fishmongers. The pairing made no earthly sense.
Before Fergus could give the matter further thought, however, he heard an uproar in the hallway outside the library where the guest chambers were. A door slammed open, and there were raised voices and footsteps.
He ran out to determine the cause of the disturbance. When he saw it, his jaw dropped.
The girl’s shapely form had been provocative enough with her dress clinging to it. Now half of it was exposed entirely, and the other half was hastily wrapped in a bedsheet. Her swanlike neck, ivory shoulders, and snow-white legs were all bare, and her dark hair was flailing around her head like a stormcloud.
She would be a magnificent sight indeed if her face were not contorted in utter fright.
Even so, her fear was easily matched by the indignant horror and outrage of the servants surrounding her.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Fergus demanded. “I told you to make her comfortable!”
“We tried, sir!” one of the servants insisted. “But—”
“They took my clothes!” the girl shrieked miserably, holding the sheet around her so tightly that her knuckles were white and trembling.
“Yes, they had to.” Fergus approached her slowly, trying to keep his tone as soothing and reassuring as possible. “Your garments were soaked and quite the worse for wear.”
“I will not be naked in a strange place such as this, surrounded by men I do not know and have no reason to trust!” she shot back. She was clearly doing her best to sound formidable, though her eyes were wide and glassy with sheer terror.
“Nor should you be,” he replied reasonably. “Your dress shall be dried, mended, and returned to you as soon as possible. In the interim, there are clothes for you in the room you just emerged from. Why don’t you go in, close the door for privacy, and dress yourself? Then, when you are ready, we can converse further. Would that be acceptable to you, dear lady?”
Fergus was trying to sound as deferential as he could, and it seemed to work. The girl cast an uncertain glance at the servants around her, then nodded and withdrew into the room, shutting the door behind her.
“You may go about your tasks,” Fergus informed the servants. “I shall attend to her personally.”
The servants scattered, though as they did, Fergus thought he saw a knowing smirk from one and a suspicious grumble from another. He hoped he had only imagined these things, but he supposed they could be evidence of what Edmund had told him earlier: That the members of his clan were looking askance at the way his attentions were directed at the woman in the room, rather than the losses the clan had suffered the previous day.
But what if I am right about the portents of this event?he asked himself. What if the two are somehow connected? What if she has come to provide the answer to our current problems, and it was fated that we meet this way?
He desperately wanted to believe that. Still, he was intelligent enough to understand how likely it was that this was wishful thinking on his part, a way to justify his fierce desire for the girl, and an answer to his prayers with regard to keeping his clan safe, all at once.
The door opened again, and the girl stepped out shyly. The dress the servants had selected for her was plain and functional, yet he still admired the way she looked in it. Now that she was fully conscious and there was clarity in her emerald eyes rather than senseless fright, he was even more taken by her ethereal beauty.
Yes, he had no trouble believing that she was an angel who had descended from the firmament to bring peace upon him at his most desperate hour.
“Thank you for lending me these clothes,” she said quietly. “I apologize for my outburst earlier.”
“It is perfectly understandable,” Fergus answered warmly. “Most people in your position would have reacted in much the same way, no doubt.”
“Please, sir, will you tell me where I am?”
“You are on the Isle of Skye, at the ancestral castle of Clan Brodie. I am Laird Fergus Brodie, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He almost reached out to take her hand and kiss it, then thought better of it. Much of her panic may have abated, but still, such an overly familiar gesture might not be welcome in her agitated state. “What is your name, if I may ask?”
Her lips pressed together tightly for a moment, and she hesitated, as though afraid of revealing anything to him. Then she relented.
“Moire.”
Fergus tried to keep his expression neutral, but inwardly, his heart was doing somersaults of excitement. Moire! A name that means “star of the sea!” Surely this is no coincidence, but rather divine intervention just as I felt it to be! She was sent to me for a reason, and now I shall discover what it is!
“Can you tell me how I came to find you on the beach?” he asked. “What brought you there?”
Moire squinted, and her hand went to her forehead suddenly, as though she had experienced a sharp and terrible pain there. Her eyes shined with tears, and the strength seemed to leave her body all at once. She sagged against the nearest wall, clutching it to remain upright.
Fergus rushed to her so she would not fall.
“I am sorry,” she breathed, her eyelids fluttering. “I…feel quite faint.”
“When was the last time you took nourishment?” he asked. It occurred to him that if she had been in a shipwreck, she might have been adrift for days before being washed ashore. If so, it was no wonder that she had swooned repeatedly since he had discovered her.
“I do not know,” she confessed.
“Come, let me escort you back to your room. I shall see to it that refreshment is provided at once. Perhaps once you have eaten, you will be well enough to talk.”
