Highland Thief by Alyson McLayne

Twenty-Three

“You ne’er told me if you’d done it before,” Kerr said to Isobel quietly as they crouched at the edge of the tree line, observing the farm. They’d been watching for signs of Una and the lads—or anyone else, for that matter—for the last ten minutes. The sun had already dipped over the horizon, but he couldn’t hear any noise coming from the cottage, which was unusual for his brothers.

“Done what?” Isobel asked, matching his whisper.

“What were your words, exactly? You can eat me.”

She turned her head to him and then huffed out a soft laugh. “Have you been sitting here the whole time stewing about whether I’ve been intimate in that way with someone besides you, husband?”

“Nay…not the whole time.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Izzy. You doona have to explain yourself to me.”

I just want you to.

She grinned and made a motion with her hand for him to continue.

“Unless you want to,” he added, aloud this time.

She clamped her hands over her mouth to muffle her laughter. When she had her mirth under control, she sighed and whispered, “You did surprise me. I ne’er imagined doing what we did last night. I thought it would be more along the lines of what we did this morning.”

He grunted as the sight of her spread before him on his plaid floated through his mind. The sky had started to lighten, and he’d wanted to continue on their journey, but he couldn’t resist loving her in that way first. Or touching her intimately as she sat in front of him on Diabhla. Or taking the extra time to tup her properly when they’d stopped to eat. The patch of grass they’d found had been soft and the ground beneath it smooth.

“You still havenae answered my question,” he said.

“Dearest, I am well-informed about carnal intimacy. Most of which I want to try with you…for the first time.”

“And how have you come to be so informed?”

She shrugged. “People talk when they think no one is listening.”

“And you’re always listening?”

“Aye.”

Feeling settled now on that issue at least, and interested in exploring later what else she’d heard, he returned his attention to the cottage.

Where are Una, Andy, and Aulay?

Smoke came from the chimney, and the windows were open, but he couldn’t hear any voices or laughter. Unease began to bubble through his gut.

“You’re worried,” Isobel whispered.

“A little.”

“Is it possible the man from the beach beat us here?”

“Anything is possible, but ’tis unlikely. Why come here and not go to the castle or to the village first? We know he’s placed spies and traitors there.”

“To get to your brothers and Una, maybe?”

“Aye, but…this is not the place to take power. ’Tis not strategic for him to come here.”

“Then why did we come? Other than to see your family, of course.”

“I need people I can trust, and the lads are excellent marksmen, as good as any of my foster brothers. They’ve been trying to best each other for years.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw, wondering how to bring up the next reason. “And there’s one more thing…”

She swiveled her head toward him, obviously having heard something in his voice she didn’t like. He glanced over and saw her eyes had narrowed on him.

“Nay,” she said. “I willna stay here.”

“Isobel, ’tis too dangerous for you to go with me. You could—”

“Nay. If there is a battle, I will do as you say, but until then I will strategize with you and help unite our clan. My presence is a boon to you, husband. A reminder of the alliance between Clan MacAlister, Clan MacKinnon, and the others. As well as a reminder that you are a powerful laird worthy of a lass like me.”

She said the last in a queenly fashion, and he had to agree. It heartened him that Isobel knew her worth, but better than that, she knew how other people perceived her worth, and she was smart enough to make it work for her—and for them.

She had evolved from a trickster lass into a formidable woman. A queen among queens. And his wife.

Still…

“We doona know yet who is behind this conspiracy. It could be anyone. Gregor and the rest of us have been wracking our brains trying to figure it out, but we have few leads. Is the man on the beach the same man who planned the attack at the cathedral and rode away after Deirdre brought the roof down on them? My gut is telling me yes, but does it end there? Or is someone else holding the reins?”

“You mean like the Campbells. Did you speak to Branon Campbell after he threatened me at the stable? Could he be part of it?”

“We did. And yes, I think he is part of it, especially now that we can tie him to the man on the beach—thanks to you. We brought an artist in to record his face, and we’ll be tracing his steps in Edinburgh last winter, but that will take time. He says he didn’t return to the Highlands until last month. If that’s true, then he canna be the man who led the attack on your clan last spring.”

“Why was he in Edinburgh?” she asked, and then she gasped in horror. “Do you think the crown’s involved?”

He weighed her question. “Nay, I doona think so. These attacks, the drive behind them to keep going after so many failures, feels personal to me.”

“Against you and Clan MacAlister?”

“Aye. Or maybe against Gregor.”

“Why you or Gregor? Why not Gavin or one of your other brothers?”

“Because they’ve all been attacked, the attacks failed, and the conspirator moved on to attack someone else. If it was personal toward one of them, why not attack them again? And why leave Gregor and me until the end? Nay, this has to do with the attack on Gregor led by my father all those years ago that ended up with me and my brothers fostered to him.”

She looked back to the farm, and he could almost see her brilliant mind working behind all that soft, silky blond hair. After a moment, she said, “Well, it canna be your father.”

“Not unless he’s come back from the dead. I stabbed him through the heart and then burned his body.”

“Could it be anyone else in your family? We know of at least one traitor in the clan.”

He pressed his lips together, the shame he felt over killing his family mixed with the grim knowledge that he’d had to do it and intense relief that Isobel had still wanted him, loved him, despite knowing that truth.

He picked up her hand and squeezed it. Thank God he hadn’t had to give her up.

“No one is left alive except my uncle Dùghlas, Andy, and Aulay—that I know of. The others attacked in waves over several days—my uncles, my cousins, several high-ranking warriors in the clan, and the men they commanded.”

“How did you survive?”

“Gregor had trained me well. He knew my father would try to kill me, and he’d prepared me for it. He’d also placed several key people within the castle to help me when the time came.” Kerr recalled the sudden onslaught of violence that day…and the relief when he discovered he wasn’t alone—but also the grief upon finding his mother, gutted, in the middle of the Great Hall, left there for the dogs to gnaw upon while the warriors supped around her.

He cleared his throat. “My mother was a huge help too.”

Her brow rose. “Your mother? I thought your father killed her before you came home?”

“He did. Hours before. What I meant was her kindness to the clan over the years—a clan she was not born into—rallied them to my side. Warriors, farmers, villagers. She’d made an impact on people, and while they’d been too afraid to fight for her when she was alive, her death at my father’s hands, and then his death at my hands, propelled them into action and they stood with me shoulder to shoulder against the others. We razed the devils to the ground and pledged peace, aid, and prosperity.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she cupped his cheek with her hand. “That’s what we’ll remind them of—and this usurper, whoever he or they are, will not be able to get his hands around their throats.”

He turned his head and kissed her palm. “Tell me again.”

“Tell you what?” she asked, but she was smiling, and he knew that she knew what he wanted.

“Tell me you love me, wife. I want to hear it at least five times a day for all the hardships you’ve put me through the last four years.”

Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and she leaned toward him. “I love you,” she said just before their lips touched.

A snicker—a double snicker—broke out behind them, and Kerr sprang up and twisted around at the same time as he pushed Isobel against his back and drew his sword.

Then two balls of fury streaked through the trees toward them, yelling Highland war cries. Kerr raced to meet them, noting how they broke rank and attacked him separately rather than together. The wee idiots.

He growled with dissatisfaction. Their greatest advantage was to act as a team, and instead they were trying to beat each other to him.

No time like the present to show them their mistake.

He chose the attacker in the lead, hitting his blade with such force it spun the assailant around, and then Kerr booted him in the arse. The lad fell forward into his brother, and his blade flew from his hand. Kerr caught it—a weapon he’d bestowed upon Andy for his thirteenth birthday—as the lads tumbled to the ground together.

Behind him, he heard a door slam. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Una standing on the cabin’s porch. “Andy! Aulay!” she cried.

“They’re here, Una!” Kerr yelled back.

“Ma! Kerr’s brought a lass with him!” Aulay said from beneath his brother.

“And he was kissing her!” Andy added, mashing his brother’s face into the ground as he stood.

“Kerr’s here?”

“Aye!” the lads said together.

“Well, come in, all of you, before it’s dark.”

Kerr heard the door shut again, and he assumed Una had reentered the cottage. Right now he had to keep his eyes on his brothers. They were still likely to attack.

He sheathed his sword and forced a scowl. “You broke rank. Again. Your greatest strength against an enemy is your togetherness. If you had attacked at the same time, using the positions I showed you, I would have had a difficult time choosing whom to fight. Use that hesitancy against your enemy and attack together. Always.”

“We were going to trick you,” Aulay said, rising now too, “but Andy was supposed to fall back and let me dart in.”

“Nay! ’Twas me who was supposed to dart in,” Andy said.

“Then it wouldnae have been a trick!”

Kerr couldn’t help grinning. The boys’ argument brought back memories of arguments he and his foster brothers had all had with Callum when they were lads, especially Lachlan.

Now, Kerr would stick to any plan Callum made, even if it killed him. His brother had a mind like one of Isobel’s brilliant traps.

Suddenly, the lads stopped arguing, their words petering out as if they’d lost their breath. Their gazes shifted from him to a point on his right, and Kerr didn’t need to look to know that Isobel had moved out from behind him and stood there.

He took advantage of their distraction, and this time he attacked first, tossing Andy’s sword aside and using his long reach and greater height and weight to tackle the lads to the forest floor.

They yelled and fought back. When they both got their feet up on Kerr’s chest and shoved, he let them topple him over backward. Another good lesson in working as a team. They jumped on top, and he wrestled with them, letting them win—which was getting harder to do every time. He reckoned they would be as big as him when they were fully grown.

Looking up past their young, fierce, identical faces, he saw both Isobel and Diabhla had moved closer and were staring down at them. The sight made him laugh. The twins easily pinned him after that and cheered triumphantly. They jumped up and broke into a victory dance that resembled a cross between a Highland Fling, a Sword Dance, and a headless chicken running around the farmyard.

Kerr rose, too, and grabbed Isobel around the waist. He spun her in a circle, making her laugh, and then he leaned in and claimed the kiss he’d been denied. When he pulled back, he looked over and saw his brothers watching them, their faces screwed up into identical masks of disgust and fascination.

“Lads, this is Isobel, my wife—and now your sister. She is Gavin’s sister too—by blood, of course—and I’ve been pining for her for four long years, but finally last night…” Isobel elbowed him in the gut, and he laughed, but also winced. His wife had sharp elbows and she knew how to use them. “Izzy, this is Aulay and Andy.”

“Good day to you, Andy and Aulay,” she said. “I think we’re going to be great friends. Do you want to know why?”

“Why?” they asked in unison, looking skeptical.

“Because I like to build traps, traps to catch people in, like your brother.” Their faces brightened with interest, and she stepped toward them, linked her arms through theirs, and led them to the cottage. “The last one was a hole I dug in the ground that I filled with manure. He almost fell in. I was originally building it for Gavin, but Kerr can be annoying, doona you think? He deserved it more. Also, I am friends with a giant wolf named Siv, and I know an even bigger and fiercer warrior than Kerr. Maybe one day I’ll introduce you to him.”

Kerr sighed, knowing he deserved it.

They’d completely forgotten about him and left him to pick up the mess. Both lads had abandoned their specially made swords on the ground, and he had to hunt around for their scabbards. When he came back, it was to see his wife and his brothers almost at the cottage door with Diabhla at their heels.

Now that hurt. “Diabhla!” he yelled. “Not you too!”

***

Isobel scooped up the lamb stew from her bowl, trying not to eat like one of Farmer Busby’s hogs but hunger gnawed at her, and the meal was delicious. Using her spoon, she plopped a chunk of meat and onion on her bread and took a big bite.

“Mmmmm,” she moaned, closing her eyes as she savored her food. When she finished, she took another bite, and then glanced across at Una, who sat on the other side of the table beside Kerr. They couldn’t have looked more different, Una being slight and fair-skinned with freckles, red hair, and pale blue eyes, and Kerr resembling a dark avenging angel.

My angel.

And of course Una’s scar, which Kerr had warned her about. The white, jagged line ran down the left side of her face from the corner of her eye to her chin. The sight brought tears to Isobel’s eyes—not for how it looked but because she couldn’t imagine how frightened, and in how much pain, Una must have been when Madadh MacAlister had carved it there.

Taking another bite, she deliberately redirected her thoughts to Aulay and Andy, who sat on either side of her, crowding in because they had no sense of personal space…perhaps because they were twins and always together. They looked nothing like their mother. Instead, they resembled Kerr but with chestnut-brown hair and hazel eyes.

She wondered if her children with Kerr would look similar, but maybe with her blue-green eyes.

She swallowed and took a sip of her ale. “Una, this may be the best stew I’ve e’er tasted.”

“Thank you,” the woman said a little shyly. She’d barely touched her meal and had an air of nervousness about her that made Isobel even more determined to win her over. She’d also glanced several times at the door, as if she wanted to escape.

“Kerr taught me how to make rabbit stew. It was good, too, but this…” She took another bite. “Mmmmm.”

“Mine was as good,” Kerr protested as he shoveled another spoonful into his mouth.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t good, but we’ve had two full days of eating apples, berries, and cheese. Verily, roasted squirrel would have tasted divine at this point.” She laughed, and Una gave her a strange smile.

“Ma makes the best roast squirrel,” Aulay said.

“Aye, she roasts it in a pan with honey,” Andy added.

Isobel’s cheeks heated as she glanced across at Una. “Oh…that sounds…delicious. I doona think I’ve e’er had squirrel.”

“’Twas my mother’s recipe,” Una said softly. “She used to make it for me before…when I lived at home. I had a knack for catching squirrels, and sometimes ’twas all we had.”

Regret and shame swirled through Isobel like a growing storm. Her appetite disappeared, and she laid down her spoon, feeling like an overprivileged fool—she’d grown up eating whatever she wanted, not to mention she called a castle her home. And until yesterday, she’d never known any real danger.

Compared to many Highland women, she’d led a charmed life.

Now she was married to a powerful laird who made her squeal and sigh in the dark, while Una had suffered at the hands of a devil and raised her sons alone, away from her clan—afraid and ashamed.

Una leaned across the table and squeezed her hand. “Please eat, my lady. I am not offended. I have been more than blessed these past fourteen years. Your husband has made sure of that.”

Isobel nodded and picked up her spoon, but she’d lost her enjoyment of the meal. “I will eat, Una, as long as you call me Isobel. Or Izzy, if you prefer. ’Tis what Kerr often calls me. We are family now. I wouldnae have it any other way.”

Dimples appeared in Una’s cheeks as she smiled. “I would be honored, Izzy.”

Kerr winked at her approvingly, and she felt as if she’d redeemed herself somewhat.

“Would anyone like more to drink?” Una picked up the pitcher and refilled Kerr’s cup. She glanced at the door again as she did it. Had Kerr noticed?

“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 forward. 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.

When the sobs died down, Una sat up, wiping her face. “I’m sorry, but the lads are all I have. I canna bear to see them ride into danger.”

“I understand. They’re still so young, but I suspect it would be hard at any age.”

“Aye.”

Isobel grasped Una’s hands, her eyes tracing the woman’s scar. It cut through her cheek, but it hadn’t left her eye disfigured or her mouth twisted. Still, Isobel suspected that in Una’s mind it looked worse than it actually did. She’d noticed how she turned the scarred side of her face away from people, and Kerr had told her that she ne’er left the farm.

That needed to change for all their sakes.

“Una, come with us tomorrow,” she said. “We need your support.”

The woman gasped. “Nay, I couldnae.”

“Why not?”

“Because…because I canna, Lady MacAlister. I’ve ne’er been back to the village.”

Isobel held her gaze, her heart filled with sympathy for the woman. “I know you were hurt in your past, and that those scars, both inside and out, have never fully healed, but now is your time to embrace the woman you are—a survivor, a mother, a woman capable of owning her own land and running her own life—scars and all. Show everyone what that man did to you, and show them the strength and resilience that enabled you to overcome it. You have accomplished so much. You’ve raised two wonderful young men, you run your own farm. Stand with us. Help us. Please.”

Una sighed and looked down at her hands. They trembled within Isobel’s grasp. “I promise to think about it.” Then she leaned forward and hugged Isobel. “You’re a kind woman, Lady MacAlister, like Kerr’s ma. I’m glad he has you.” And then she wiped her cheeks and stood. “But you doona look like a lady in that stained dress, dirt on your brow, and your hair a tangled mess.” She moved toward the kettle, filled it, and put it over the fire. Then she opened her wardrobe. “We doona have much time. Kerr will be in soon. I heard him tell the others he wants to leave before dawn. I’ll sleep in the barn. I have a pallet set up in there.”

Isobel stood up in protest. “You canna give us your bed.”

“I already have, and he’s agreed.” She pulled a beautiful plaid out from a box in her wardrobe. “Now come and look at this. ’Twas a gift from Kerr many years ago. I’ve ne’er worn it. It will be perfect for you. A plaid fit for a queen.”

***

Kerr sat on the bed as gently as he could, but still it dipped under his weight and Isobel rolled toward him. Her eyelids fluttered open sleepily, and he silently cursed himself. He’d washed up with the leftover bath water, as quietly as a mouse, and now he’d woken her anyway.

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered as he lifted the blanket to slip under the covers. He paused when he saw her, as naked as she’d been last night, and he huffed out a breath, his already hardened body turning to granite.

“Doona be sorry,” she said. “I meant to stay awake.”

She shifted over to make room for him and opened her arms. He crawled in beside her, so they lay facing each other, chest to chest. The bed was too short for him and his feet hung over the end, but it ceased to matter when she lifted her top leg, wrapped it over his hip, and then kissed him.

Nothing mattered but the feel of her in his arms and the taste of her in his mouth.

“Are you sure, Izzy?” he asked. “I know you’re tired. It’s been a long few days, and tomorrow will be just as long, with as little sleep.”

“I’m sure. If aught goes wrong tomorrow and we forgo this intimacy tonight, I would regret it for the rest of my life.”

He wrapped his arms all the way around her and pulled her close. His instinct was to tell her nothing would go wrong, but he couldn’t lie to her—and if he did, she would know it for a lie.

“I feel the same. As quiet as I was washing up, I kept hoping you’d wake.”

She smiled against his mouth, and they kissed again. Then she urged him closer, and he rolled over on top of her. She wrapped her other leg around his hip and welcomed him into the cradle of her thighs.

“If I could freeze time, this is where I would want to spend eternity,” he sighed.

She giggled and rocked her hips against him—an invitation. “Doona you think you’d be happier if we were a little farther along? Eternity is a long time.”

As much as he wanted to press inside her, he slid his shaft up through her wet folds instead, and then let his weight bear down on her nub. He thrust slowly and methodically against her.

She sighed. “God in heaven, that feels good.” Wrapping her arms around his back, she massaged the muscles along his spine, and then dug her nails in as her body shuddered.

The carnality of her response made his blood surge, and he fought to maintain his steady rhythm. Cupping her face at the same time as she pulled his head down, their lips melded together—kissing, stroking, sucking.

He palmed her breasts, squeezed her nipples. She moaned into his mouth and slid her own hands down to his arse, digging her nails in there too.

“Come inside me. Now, Kerr. Please.”

“Aye, love.”

He wrapped his big hand under her arse and tilted up her hips before nudging into her body and sliding all the way inside her.

The heat of her, the soft slickness of her surrounding him, almost made him lose his seed, and he ground his teeth as he concentrated on slowing down. He didn’t want to reach the pinnacle without her.

But then she broke off their kiss with a whimper and pressed her head back against the bed. “More, Kerr. Please!”

His stones tightened and pulled taut against his body at the need and want in her voice—at the demand.

She was close too.

He held her in place, pulled out almost all the way and then surged back in, letting his weight bear her down, his body rub against hers. She groaned and he did it again and again until her heels dug into the small of his back and her pelvis pressed upward—completely open to him.

His control began to shatter—body jerking, muscles clenching, his breath exploding from his chest in hard gusts.

He stroked harder, faster, as short breathy moans broke from her lips—rising to a squeal—before her body clamped down on his in waves.

“Oh, God! Kerr!”

He thrust one last time, shuddering and shouting her name.

Always her name.

After the last contraction eased, he collapsed against her, both of them gasping for air. After a few moments, he rolled onto his back and pulled her into the crook of his arm so she rested against his chest.

“Correction,” he said, his breath still coming in short gusts. “This right here is where I would freeze time.”

She wrapped her arm around his waist and slid her leg over the top of his. “Aye, this is as near perfection as we could e’er find.”

He squeezed her tight, fighting that ever-present, nagging fear for her.

How can I ride into danger with her again?

“Una is going to come with us on the morrow,” she said drowsily.

He looked down at her. “Truly?”

“’Tis not certain, but I think she’ll surprise us, surprise herself too. She will remind our people of who your father was and what could happen again if they give in to terror and darkness.”

He sighed and kissed the top of her head. “I’ve been encouraging her to leave the farm for years, but she’s ne’er been willing. People know she’s here, of course—I have warriors watching her, and farm hands have come to help her, especially during harvest, but most of the clan havenae seen her in years. ’Twill be good for her to face that fear.”

Kerr idly stroked his fingers along her arm, hoping she would fall back asleep. For him, it was an impossibility—it always was before battle.

“I canna imagine how she managed on her own with two bairns,” Isobel said, breaking into a yawn at the end. “Were you here often in the early days?”

“Some, but I also had much work to do at the castle and with the clan. ’Twas a time of turmoil after I killed my father.” He stroked her hair behind her ear. “She wouldnae take any help from the women either. I offered her the aid of my old Nan, a good woman, but she refused. She raised those boys entirely on her own.”

She shook her head, a tiny movement against his chest. “Do twins run in her family?”

“I doona know. But they run in my family.”

She pushed onto her elbow and stared down at him, looking and sounding wide awake now. “Your family?”

He nodded. “I was a twin. Maybe I should have told you that before we consummated our marriage.”

“What happened to the other bairn?”

“Stillborn. A wee lad, much smaller than me, my ma said. ’Twas probably for the best. My father would have turned us against each other. Look what he did to my uncle Dùghlas.”

“Did she actually see the bairn? Was she certain he died? And who was born first? You or your brother?”

“I doona know, Izzy, and it doesn’t matter now. ’Twas thirty years ago. I’ve ne’er heard a whisper to contradict what my ma told me.”

She sighed and settled back down against him. “You’re right. I thought…maybe…”

“Nay, there’s naught more to the story.”

She nodded and moved her hand over her belly. “Other than the possibility that I may have not one but two giants growing in my belly soon.”

He groaned. “Doona remind me. The idea of you birthing just one bairn gives me nightmares.” He pulled her close again and whispered in her ear. “I canna stand the thought of losing you, Isobel… Are you sure you willna take pity on me and stay here in the morning?”

She kissed him and then whispered back, “Not this time, dearling.”

A knock sounded on the door—loud and sudden in the silence.

Kerr rolled from the bed and reached for his sword. “Who’s there?”

“Malcolm, Laird,” the voice came through the door. “A man has arrived with a message.”

He grabbed his shirt from the back of a chair and tugged it over his head.

“Who, other than your uncle and foster brothers, knows that we’re here?” Isobel asked, her voice rising in alarm. She slid her shift over her head as well.

“I doona know.” He picked up his plaid and tossed it to her.

At the door, he knocked, two short and three long raps. When Malcolm rapped back, using the proper sequence, Kerr unbarred and opened the door. Isobel crossed the room to stand beside him.

Malcolm entered, followed by a man bundled up in a plaid. “Laird MacAlister!” the man said. “By God’s grace, I’ve found you!”

“Father Lundie?” Isobel asked.

The priest turned his gaze to her, and his eyes widened in shock. “Lady MacKinnon, does your brother know you’re here?”

Kerr wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Isobel and I are married, Father. We handfasted one another several days ago. ’Tis Lady MacAlister now—and aye, Gavin knows our whereabouts.”

The priest let out a happy-sounding gasp and squeezed their hands in each of his. “My most heartfelt congratulations. When order is restored, I would be honored to marry the two of you in the church—as I did Gavin and the other lairds.”

“Aye, Father,” Isobel said. “That would be wonderful. But tell me, how did you know where to find us?”

The priest’s face fell, and when he swayed on his feet, Isobel grasped his arm and led him to a chair at the table. He collapsed onto it. She quickly poured him some water and handed him the cup.

He drank deeply and then put the cup down. “I was running from the castle, hoping to find someone—anyone—in time, and I ran into your brothers Andy and Auley and your uncle Dùghlas. They told me you were here.”

“What’s happened?” Kerr asked, crouching beside his chair.

“Father Grant has been murdered, and traitors are within your castle.” His voice broke, but he took a breath and continued. “I hid inside the priest hole earlier today and saw a devil of a man with terrible injuries on one side of his body suffocate a priest—after your steward put drops of poison in his drink.”

Isobel gasped and crossed herself. “Why would they do that? Are you sure it was poison?”

“Aye. The man said ’Tis too late for any more poison, Fearchar. He has to die tonight.” A sob broke from the priest. “Father Grant couldnae move, he was too sick. He wrote to me not long ago and asked me to come. He thought evil had taken hold of the castle.” The priest looked up at Kerr and grasped his hand. “An army is coming, Laird MacAlister. This demon of a man plans to take over your clan.”