Journey to Bongary Spring by Kasey Stockton

Chapter Twenty-Four

The haar covered the ground, rolling over them and dissipating up the hills of Glen Ellen as the sun peeked over the horizon, casting shades of purple and pink across the sky. Kieran pulled in a long breath of cool, fresh air. This was his home.

Ian shifted uncomfortably in his saddle before glancing back at the opening of the glen, his wrapped, injured arm resting in a sling. “Are ye certain they’re coming?”

“They better be.” Kieran hadn’t slept at all the previous night, not even after he’d found Ian and committed the man to be his second. Ian had accepted the job and had taken a band of men with him across the loch to discuss the parameters of the duel with Miles Duncan. It was a testament of Kieran’s confidence in his own ability that he would choose an injured man as his second.

The duel had been set for the glen at sunrise, and the minutes were now ticking past sunrise at a steady clip.

Ian fidgeted with the reins looped loosely over his wrist. “Do ye need to warm yer muscles?”

“Not with yer lame arm,” Kieran said. He wasn’t about to injure his friend just when the man was mostly healed.

Ian nodded.

Horses appeared from the fog, walking calmly into the glen, their riders on alert.

The man with one ear wore a scowl, his black hair tied back in a queue, his beard long and unkempt. He appeared more annoyed than anything, and that irked Kieran. He’d taken Kieran’s father’s life, and now Kieran was a mere annoyance to be dealt with?

Isobel’s words from earlier cut through his mind. The hurt and the pain ye carry. It hurts ye more than the man who killed yer father. D’ye think he’s been thinking of ye all these years?

Magnus had clearly not been thinking of Kieran, not when Kieran had to remind him of who his father was the previous evening. His blood boiled, rage making his hands shake. But what else could he have done? When he spotted the dark-haired Duncan missing an ear, he’d felt the simultaneous surety that this was the man he’d been searching for and despair that he would now have to leave. Duels had been forbidden and taking a man’s life would land him in the noose. When Kieran succeeded, he would need to leave immediately, to get as far away from Castle Moraigh as he could.

“Ye told him swords?” Kieran asked. He wanted to run the man through.

Ian stepped closer, hesitating. “We agreed upon first blood, Kieran.”

Kieran shook his head, shock momentarily swinging his mouth open. “Ye did what?”

Ian lifted his good hand. “I canna allow ye to sacrifice yer life for—”

“For my father?”

Ian shook his head, the muscle jumping in his jaw. “Isobel loves ye, and ye’re a fool if ye think this man is worth more than she is.” He paused as though wrestling with himself and then leaned in. “I ken that ye need to honor yer father, but can ye not also honor the living? The living, breathing woman who is waiting for ye at Moraigh right now?”

Ian’s words were a punch to his gut. And Kieran knew that feeling well, especially after his fight with Simon yesterday.

“Ye dinna ken what ye’re speaking of.”

Ian scoffed. “I ken that she’s always loved ye, and ye’ve been too blind ta see it. Why d’ye think she went to Bongary?”

She’d given up the bracelet he’d tied on her wrist all those years ago, so he assumed she’d gone to rid herself of the grief of losing her parents. Could it have been something else? Could it have been…him?

Miles called a low, unenthusiastic greeting, which Ian returned. Magnus took his place and Kieran walked over the tall grass toward him, but his mind was spinning. The area wasn’t smooth, the ground a mess of uneven earth, and Kieran felt it to his bones. Ian had rattled him. Isobel had rattled him. He no longer knew with a blinding surety that what he was doing was the right thing, and it frightened him just as much as it rankled.

The seconds stood on either side, watching the fight closely. When the white handkerchief was brought down, Kieran moved forward, paying close attention to his opponent’s steps.

The man flashed him a smile, showing two missing teeth, and Kieran jabbed forward, almost nicking him on the arm. But Magnus was fast, and Kieran stepped back to adjust his balance. He sidestepped one of Magnus’s jabs, and they moved in a circle. Magnus lunged, his sword missing Kieran’s heart by a whisper, and the contact startled him to awareness.

Isobel’s words flowed through Kieran followed by Ian’s final statement that echoed her thoughts. Kieran was hit with a wave of longing so acute, he didn’t notice when Magnus stepped forward until it was almost too late. Kieran brought his blade up, and the clanging metal tore him from his thoughts. They might have agreed to first blood, but this man was aiming to kill.

And Kieran didn’t want to die. He wanted to live for Isobel.

He refocused on his opponent, but his mind was sharper. Now, instead of working toward revenge, he had a different goal. He needed to draw first blood so he could return to Moraigh and the lass who awaited him there.

Magnus stepped forward again, their swords smashing together with a force that shot up Kieran’s arm. He pushed the man back, hitting sword upon sword from every angle, thinking of Isobel and his father as he drove the man back. This wasn’t the revenge he’d imagined exacting, but he was focused. He was choosing to live for Isobel, and he had a sudden, overpowering feeling his father approved.

Magnus came close to hitting his arm again, and he forged ahead, hoping to wear him down. He found a pocket of space and jabbed, cutting the man’s leg just above the knee. Red oozed from the cut, immediately running down his naked leg beneath his kilt, and both men stood back, lowering their arms.

It was over. Kieran’s chest heaved, and he watched his opponent closely. The man looked down at his knee, and his mouth tightened before he charged at Kieran again. Kieran only had a moment to react, and he lifted his arm, hoping to stave off the attack when Magnus’s sword slid across his forearm, searing it with fiery pain.

“Magnus, enough,” Miles roared, but the man pressed forward, slicing his sword through the air in a frenzy. Kieran defended himself, meeting every hit with a resounding clang. He sliced Magnus in the side and the man shouted, stepping back.

“I said enough,” Miles yelled. Magnus threw his sword down and stalked away, anger pulsing from him in waves.

Kieran’s heart did not slow down, and he watched the Duncan men retreat with peace. His forearm stung, but he ignored it, crossing to Ian and sheathing his sword.

Ian shook his head. “Foolish man with no character.”

“Och, aye,” Kieran agreed.

Ian watched him closely. Kieran ignored the cut on his arm, not ready to discuss what had just happened. He was free. The burden he’d chosen to carry on his heart for so long had lifted. He’d avenged his father’s character and retained his own life. No one present would tell the authorities that they’d participated in a duel. Kieran was safe.

He could return to Isobel and beg her forgiveness.

Thudding hoofbeats sounded in the distance, and he glanced up the rise as a horse came into view. The woman atop it rode toward him at a gallop, her pale blonde hair shining in the early morning sun. The sight of Isobel filled him with anticipation, and her words from the evening before flitted through his mind. When he asked her what she would say to the Duncan men who killed her parents if she could meet them again, she had said she would forgive them.

Isobel likely would never be able to do that, but Kieran had the opportunity now.

He left his sword sheathed and crossed the rugged ground, passing Miles and approaching Magnus. He could feel all eyes anxiously watching him as if everyone wondered what he was going to do. Magnus scowled at him, his missing ear no more than a lump of flesh on the side of his head giving him a frightful appearance. Kieran took a deep breath, certain he was about to sound ridiculous.

“I forgive ye, Magnus Duncan. But I never wish to see ye again.”

Magnus stared at him like he’d lost his mind, and maybe he had. Maybe madness had snuck into his soul when he wasn’t looking, but he was satisfied with the way it made him feel.

He didn’t fully forgive the man, despite what he’d said, but he was on the path toward healing, and he hoped to one day reach it.

Turning his head to the side, Magnus displayed his missing ear and spit on the ground near Kieran’s feet.

It didn’t matter to Kieran. His forgiveness need not be accepted. The important part was letting go of the need for revenge which had so long ruled his life. He walked away from Magnus a lighter man.

Miles was speaking to Ian when he approached, and Kieran stepped forward warily. The man was an idiot for letting Isobel go, but perhaps Kieran ought to thank him for that.

“I only want peace,” Miles said, and the sincerity in his voice hit Kieran in the gut. “Do ye think McEwan will be open to negotiating?”

“Not yet,” Kieran said. “He’s furious about the way things ended last night. He didna say as much, but I’m certain the only reason he presented ye with a bride before the entire feast was so that ye couldna easily back down. Ye ruined his plans.”

Miles shook his head. “Aye. But we can find peace without a marriage.”

“In time,” Ian said. “But the people will be hesitant to agree without some show of sincerity.”

“Just the same, I dinna intend ta give up trying.”

Kieran clapped Miles on the shoulder, hoping the action would prove that he harbored no ill feelings against the man, despite his previous grumbling. He could see that Miles had worthy intentions, and he was of the same mind. He’d seen too many people die because of one idiotic feud, and he was finished with it. “I vow to help ye mend the feud, Miles, but it willna happen quickly.”

“I thank ye,” Miles said. “I willna be able to do it alone. I’m glad of yer help.”

“Och. ’Tis only fair that I help,” Kieran said. “I’m the one who started the brawl last night after all.”

Ian laughed, and Miles shook his head, but he smiled ruefully.

“Until next time,” Miles said. “Ye’re always welcome at Dulnain.”

Kieran nodded his appreciation. “Sorry I canna say the same for ye at Moraigh.”

The men chuckled good-humoredly, then went their separate ways, Kieran and Ian toward their horses, and Miles to fetch Magnus. The sun had risen, burning off the fog and revealing a soft blue sky. Isobel was seated on her horse a fair distance away, and Kieran retrieved his horse’s reins, hesitating when Ian mounted his.

“What did ye say to Magnus?” Ian asked.

Kieran shrugged, feeling suddenly bashful. He didn’t want his actions to be misconstrued as traitorous. But it had only been the forgiveness of one man for wrongdoings against Kieran specifically. Though he supposed his sudden rapport with Miles could land him in trouble with McEwan.

Except Ian had seemed to share the same friendship with the Duncan laird that Kieran had. Neither of them would turn against the other, he knew that well enough.

Isobel slid down from her horse, holding the reins, and Ian glanced at her over his shoulder. “I’ll leave ye to it.” He rode away, and Kieran crossed the uneven ground toward the woman he loved.

She stilled, gripping her skirts in white-knuckled fists, her lips parting as she set eyes on Kieran approaching. Isobel’s hair whipped in the wind, her plaid wrapped tightly about her shoulders, as she crumpled to her knees, dropping her face into her pale, delicate hands.

Kieran dropped the reins for his horse, running to her over the rocky earth.

“What is it?” he called, forcing her to look up. Her stricken eyes met his, and she struggled to rise.

He took her by the arms and helped her stand, ignoring the pain in his injured forearm.

“Ye’re alive,” she said, her words no more than a breath. “I thought I would be too late.”

Relief flooded Kieran, and his shoulders relaxed.

“I didna think…”

“Ye can thank Ian,” Kieran said with a grim smile. “He and Miles agreed that the duel would go to first blood.”

Isobel closed her eyes, nodding softly. Relief was evident in the smoothness of her expression, the serenity on her lips. She shuddered once, and he took her hand.

“Will ye forgive me for my actions yesterday? I was mad with worry, a decade of searching for this man had caught up to me, and I’m not proud of what I asked of ye.”

Isobel looked confused. “Ye speak of asking for the kiss?”

“Aye.”

She shook her head. “Ye didna press yerself on me, Kieran. It was my choice to walk away, and ye allowed me to.”

He nodded, but that didn’t erase the shame of what he’d asked of her. He valued her more than his actions had declared. He more than valued her…he loved her.

Tipping her chin back so she might look directly into his eyes, Kieran searched for the words to put to the surging, joyful feeling in his stomach.

“I care for ye, Isobel,” he said, and she looked at him through such deep, brown eyes that he had to swallow. “Yer wisdom in helping me to forgive Magnus Duncan and free my heart from the grief and anger which bound it has changed my life. Ye’ve changed my life, and I dinna think I can go another day without ye by my side.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parting, and he wished he could kiss her now. But he needed to know how she felt first.

“Ye forgave him?” she asked.

“Aye. After the duel. He didna care, but I can see now that forgiveness is about me and no’ him.”

She nodded, grinning widely. Pulling a rogue lock of hair out of her face, Kieran tucked it behind her ear and gazed down at her with unabashed adoration. “Will ye forgive me, Isobel? For being such a foolish man?”

“Aye,” she said immediately.

He pulled her close, enjoying the feel of her body pressed against his, her arms wrapping around his waist and her hands splaying over his back. Resting his cheek on the top of her head, he was whole and complete in a way he hadn’t felt in years, and he never wanted this feeling to go away.

“I love ye, Isobel.”

He felt her sharp intake of breath more than he heard it, and she looked up at him through wide, surprised eyes.

“’Tis good, because I convinced McEwan to allow ye to marry me.”

“Ye did what?” Kieran could not process what he had heard.

“McEwan agreed to allow us to wed if I could find ye before ye ruined yer life with the duel. If ye want to—”

“I want ye, Isobel. I dinna ken when I fell for ye, but I ken that I canna live without ye.” He bent and kissed her forehead, before leaning his against it. “I need ye.”

“I love ye, too, Kieran. I have for far too long.”

His heart pulsed in love and gratitude. “I was a fool for no’ seeing it.”

She laughed, and it wasn’t lost on him that she didn’t argue that point.

“D’ye truly wish to marry such an ignorant man as I?”

“Yes,” she said, running her hands up his chest and around his neck. “I do.”

Kieran wasn’t certain if Isobel kissed him first, or if he initiated the embrace, but the next thing he knew, his body was on fire, pulsing and radiating with love and abandon. Isobel’s lips on his were the igniter that filled him with love, heat, and hope for a future.

He felt healed.

Breaking the kiss, he panted, holding her tightly in his arms, finally feeling he had a right to ask the question which had plagued him for days. “What did ye go to Bongary for?”

She smiled sheepishly. “To be rid of my love for ye.”

Kieran pulled her closer, and she laughed awkwardly. “I’d been in love with ye for so long, and I ken ye didna love me back. When McEwan told me I was to marry Miles, I had to try whatever I could to rid ye from my heart so I could move forward.”

“It didna work?”

“I thought it did, but I was wrong. I realized that it never would have worked. I thought I needed to heal, that removing the love from my heart would help, but love isna an affliction, Kieran. It’s a lovely, beautiful thing. Love is healing, and when I realized that, it occurred to me that Bongary Spring never woulda done what I asked of it because removing the love from my heart would have hurt me, not healed me.”

He nodded. It all made sense now. The bracelet she’d given as an offering, the way she’d changed after returning from Bongary, being more open with him and friendly.

“I’m glad it failed,” he said, pressing his lips against hers, tasting her.

Isobel relaxed into his embrace, and he memorized the feel of her in his arms. He never wanted to be parted from her again.

Resting his chin on her head again, he looked to the side and froze, his heart pulsing in equal measures of fear and apprehension.

“What is it?” Isobel asked, turning in his arms.

Kieran took in the familiar redcoats riding his direction, coming down Glen Ellen like a bad omen. Captain Hunt rode in the center, his scar visible even from this distance and a smug smile playing on his lips. If the soldiers had ventured to the core of McEwan lands, they must have good reason, and it could not bode well for them.

“’Tis a good thing ye’ve agreed to be my wife.” Kieran swallowed, whispering, “Trouble is coming.”

* * *

To Be Continued…

in Through the Fairy Tree, Myths of Moraigh Trilogy, Book Two

Turn the page for a sneak peek into Kieran and Isobel’s happily ever after.