The Niece of His Highland Enemy by Alisa Adams

8

Moire spent the night in her chamber, awake, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Fergus. She wondered what the days ahead would bring. Would there be more close calls like the one earlier that day? If so, would they both be able to rein in their passions?

She also pondered what would happen once Fergus was face-to-face with Ronald. Would her uncle show him gratitude, or would there be bloodshed?

Moire fretted that if such a thing transpired, Fergus’s death would be on her head, as she would be the one who led him there.

But her uncle was a good man. He had always taken good care of her. He would not do such a thing to someone who had saved her life and brought her safely home.

Would he?

She shuddered, watching the first ghostly rays of sunlight appear on the windowsill. When the birds outside began to sing, she rose from her bed, yawning and stretching. Shortly after that, Donella knocked and entered with her breakfast and helped her dress.

“Well, I don’t mind telling you that I shall miss you dreadfully, milady!” Donella chirped. “Are you excited to be returning home, then?”

“I am, yes, though I have no doubt that I shall miss you terribly as well.” As she said this, Moire felt a cold lump in her stomach. She was apprehensive but did not want to let the maid know that, especially since she had no precise reason to feel so disquieted. No doubt it was just some silly flight of fancy, and she tried to banish it from her mind.

She was not nearly as successful in doing so as she would have liked to be.

Within the hour,Moire was riding a horse next to Fergus as a cadre of Brodies escorted them to the shore, where their ship was waiting along with its crew. She could see the masts jutting up above the hillside ahead, the white sails pregnant with a strong breeze, the tartan flag flapping crisply in the wind.

As they went over the hill and the ship came into view, Moire noticed the gray waves crashing relentlessly against its hull, and the sight chilled her down to the bone. It brought with it the visceral dread of being shoved beneath the water, of feeling the icy brine fill her throat and burn her lungs…

“Moire?” Fergus put a hand on her upper arm. “Does something else vex you besides your exchange with Edmund? The waves may look rough, but the men who crew this vessel are more than up to the task. I can assure you that we will reach our destination unharmed.”

“Yes, of course we will,” Moire replied, trying to sound unconcerned. “Shall we board, then?”

“You go on ahead and bring your horse aboard with you,” Fergus suggested, making eye contact with Edmund and nodding significantly. “I just have a few final words to exchange with some of my kinsmen.”

Moire hesitated for a moment, then did as she was told. As she did, though, she did her best to listen in on what was being said behind her.

“I was not eager to indulge the concerns of those blowhards yesterday in the great hall,” Edmund said quietly, “but one of them did have a valid point: Is it wise for you to go along with her alone? Supposing you are captured, or worse?”

“That is indeed a risk,” Fergus conceded. “My hope is that it will be taken by Ronald as an additional gesture of good faith that I have come without any escort. Even so, I expect you to prepare for the worst.”

“How?”

“Have a fleet of our best fighters standing at the ready without being too obvious about it,” the young laird told him. “Deploy them if you receive the word from me…or if an abundance of time passes and you have not heard from me at all.”

Edmund appeared troubled. “That will not be easy, Fergus. Assembling such a force surreptitiously will be difficult enough, but how shall I convince the others of the clan to go along with such a course of action after you’ve already promised them you will succeed on your own, without risking their lives further?”

“By telling them I still have every intention of keeping that promise,” Fergus said. “This is merely a plan of last resort. Men like Arnott and Mungo may be pigheaded, but they were once warriors as well, and they ken full well the need for contingencies.”

“Understood. I shall make it so.” He hesitated, an uncertain look on his face.

“What?” Fergus asked. “Is there something more you wish to add?”

Edmund thought for a moment, then shook his head, embracing his friend. “Nothing, really. Just…be careful. Godspeed, Fergus.”

“Thank you. I know my castle and clan will be in the very best of hands until I return.”

Edmund smirked. “Aye, though I’d not lay a bet on its well-being after that!”

Fergus laughed in spite of himself, then led his horse up onto the deck of the ship. His mount was brought down to the hold alongside Moire’s, and Fergus gave the order to haul away. The crew snapped to their duties, and within moments, the shoreline was steadily sliding away along with everyone upon it.

As Fergus stood next to Moire on the deck, she noticed that he looked trepidatious. “Does something weigh heavily on your mind?” she asked.

He stood silent for a few moments, continuing to stare out across the water, as though deeply concerned about what he might find on the other side of it.

Finally, he said, “Do you believe your uncle loves you, Moire?”

So we’ve come to it, at last, she thought.

“Do you mean to ask whether I feel he loves me enough to become your ally instead of your enemy upon my safe return?”

Fergus’s jaw dropped, and he nearly lost his grip on the deck rail. The comical expression of surprise on his face almost made the fear and uncertainty Moire had been feeling worth it, and she laughed. She couldn’t help herself.

“I suppose I should have guessed that word of what transpired on the battlefield would have spread to the servants of the castle,” Fergus said archly, trying to regain his composure, “and that Donella would have told you.”

“Or you might have simply been straightforward about your motives whether I would find them out on my own or not,” Moire pointed out, “as a gentleman would. Tell me, is that why you sent your friend Edmund to question me so closely yesterday?”

“Edmund?” Fergus seemed genuinely puzzled. “Did he speak with you?”

“He did, aye! It was clear that he did not trust me, that he found my presence unwelcome! He did all but accuse me outright of harboring some hidden plot! What did I do to offend him, other than the unpardonable sin of being drowned almost to death!”

“I had no knowledge of Edmund’s words or actions in that regard,” Fergus said, “but I trust that he spoke to you as he did because he was concerned for me and for the well-being of our clan. You must understand, Moire, I did not wish to keep such things from you. However, I am more than just a ‘gentleman,’ as you put it.”

“Aye, you are a laird first and foremost, and you must do what is right for your people even if it weighs heavily on your conscience,” she recited. “I have heard similar speeches from my uncle when he has done things he has no reason to be proud of and always ‘for the greater good’ of his clan.”

Fergus raised an eyebrow. “Then he is not the fine man you have made him out to be, is that it?”

“Are you?” she challenged. “As you say, you are both lairds, and normal rules of decency do not apply when either of you has your mind set to something. But to answer your earlier question, I have no reason to believe he will murder you in cold blood when we arrive. He will almost certainly give you thanks and allow you to depart unharmed.”

The “almost” made his heart skip several beats, and he swallowed hard, trying to push his fear aside. “You said that he showed you kindness by taking you in. What happened to your parents?”

Fergus was curious to know the answer, but that wasn’t the only reason he was asking. He hoped that the sudden change in topic might throw her off guard, that it might break up her anger, and cause her to reveal more useful information about her family.

It was a cruel trick, he knew.

It also happened to be an effective one.

“In truth, it is difficult to say what became of our parents,” Moire said. “Several years ago, on the seventeenth night of Anagantios, they went out into the snow and ice. They did not tell us where they were going or why. They did not even come up to our rooms to kiss us goodnight. We only know that they left because my older brother Dand happened to be looking out his window when they set out, and he spotted them in the glow of the full moon. He saw them disappear into the wind and the darkness.”

“That sounds dreadful indeed. Were they never heard from again?”

“They were found by our servants at first light,” she went on, blinking back tears. “Their bodies were frozen in the snowbank.”

“They froze to death?” Fergus asked.

She shook her head. “It makes no sense. They were within easy walking distance of the castle. They could easily have returned to shelter at will. Yet there were no wounds discovered upon them, so what else could it have been?”

From the look on her face, though, Fergus suspected she might have an idea, one that involved a group of brigands who had carried them off to oblivion, just as they had tried to do with her.

The seventeenth,he thought. Another number from myth. In this case, one which symbolizes the lunar cycle…and she said her brother last saw them by the light of a full moon. Most might dismiss such a thing as meaningless coincidence, but after what I have seen in these recent days, how could I possibly do likewise?

“At any rate,” she continued, “we were all sent to live with Ronald. However, he did not feel that he would be able to properly look after all of us. The thought of being entrusted with the welfare of small children did not sit well with him, as he’d never been a father himself and had no experience in such matters. He allowed me to stay, and Dand as well. The others went to different estates to be cared for by friends of our uncle.”

“And you have not seen them since?” Fergus frowned. “Does that not seem strange to you?”

“Worse than strange,” she replied. “It broke my heart to be separated from them, and it broke Dand’s heart as well. We wrote to them often, and for the first year or so, they answered every letter. But after a while, their answers slowed, then ceased entirely.”

“Curious,” he mused. “Did you tell your uncle? What did he have to say about it?”

“He did not take our concerns seriously at all. His answer was that small children often made poor correspondents, as they became easily distracted by other amusements. He said that he had written to their caretakers and confirmed that all of them were perfectly safe and in good health. And he promised that someday soon, he would take us to visit them. But ‘someday soon’ never seemed to arrive.”

“At least you had your older brother to depend upon,” Fergus offered in what he hoped was a consoling tone.

“Alas, I did not have him long,” she sniffled. “He became restless and went out on his own to find them. He wanted me to come along, but I was too afraid. Dand disappeared entirely. Ronald was furious and forbade me from searching for him. He said that if Dand wanted to reject his hospitality and take his chances in the wilderness instead, that was his affair. From that point on, I was bereft of all my siblings and utterly alone.”

Until now, she thought privately. For, although I know he has not been wholly upfront with me, I find that being in the company of Fergus has eased my loneliness significantly.

Before Fergus could respond, the crewman in the crow’s nest bellowed: “Land ho!”