Chapter 4
Angusshire, Scotland
Sheena woke in the quiet hour just before dawn, and in only a few minutes she had braided her thick, long hair and donned the tunic and plaid that disguised her as a young lad.
With a candle in one hand and a small bundle clasped in the other, she slipped from the tiny room that had been hers ever since she became estranged from her sisters and could no longer bear to share their much larger, more comfortable chamber.
Down a narrow corridor were five steps that led to Niall’s bedchamber on another, higher level. There were several levels in Tower Esk, many small rooms and cubbyholes. There were only a few large chambers besides the hall on the second level, and the storage and dungeon below that.
Sheena’s home was one of the newer tower houses that, more and more, across the Lowlands, were replacing large castles.
Only a century old, Tower Esk was a family stronghold rather than a feudal fortress.
Just a small fortified hall, really, it was designed simply and plain in appearance, although it did have little runs of crenellation on the parapets and balustraded galleries.
Six stories high and taller than it was square, it was not as impregnable as a castle.
But it would be no easy task to overtake it, either.
Sheena had grown up on the ever-disputed border between the Lowlands and the Highlands.
The borderline was in dispute because, while the differences between the two areas were distinct differences in culture and language, the Fergussons were a mix of the two.
The Highlanders were an uncivilized lot, a Gaelic-speaking people with perhaps one kirk per parish, sometimes not even that.
They were hardly pious or God-fearing. And they thrived on war like no other people did.
The Lowlanders were more civilized because of their closer association with the English, their numerous royal burghs and grand abbeys.
They were more pious, as well, with an abundance of kirks.
Though, truth to tell, many of their Catholic priests and monks were not as devout as might be expected, their positions being mostly hereditary.
The Fergussons, in the middle, tried to maintain a balance.
They spoke English because they were considered Lowlanders, but they knew Gaelic because they had come from the Highlands centuries before.
And they had fewer dealings with the English or with royalty, and were less likely to forget the old tongue.
They wore English fashions, true, and Sheena even had an aunt in Aberdeen who was a nun, but they were not pious, going to kirk perhaps once a month.
It was not pleasant being in the middle and being a small clan, ever troubled by the bigger clans and currently at war with a powerful Highlander.
Lowlanders farther south lived in comparative peace.
Not so the Fergussons. Sheena could certainly understand her father’s hope for alliances and his need to use his daughters toward that end.
Opening the door to her brother’s room, Sheena found him still fast asleep. But a quick shake altered that, and when Niall’s eyes opened and saw the way Sheena was dressed, he groaned and ducked his head under the covers. She wouldn’t have been dressed so if she hadn’t meant to leave the tower.
“Come on now, Niall.” Sheena shook him again.
“Nay.”
“We’ll be back ’afore the sun rises,” she persisted, yanking his covers away. “You wouldna have me go alone, would you?”
Niall knew that determined tone well enough and could only grumble, “You’ll be getting us both a skelping.”
“Nonsense. No one’s to know.”
“I dinna like this, Sheena. No’ for me, but for you. ’Tis dangerous to leave the tower these days. What if—”
“Dinna say his name!” Sheena snapped. “I’m sick to death of hearing that cursed name.”
“That doesna change the facts, Sheena. He’s raided five times in the last three months since he broke the truce. He rides our land as if it were his own. How could I protect you if he came upon us on the moor?”
“That’ll no’ be happening, Niall, and you know it well. He doesna raid this early. He waits for the bright light of day for his dirty deeds, so there’ll be no mistaking him for another.”
“And what if he were to change his tactics?”
“He’s too bold to resort to surprises,” she scoffed. “Now dress yourself and be quick about it. Old Willie’s the gatekeeper today, and he’s blind as a bat, so there will be no trouble slipping past him.”
A short while later, two small figures ran across the moorland.
Horses would have saved time, but they would never have got out of the tower with horses.
As it was, they had been delayed by the departure of an unexpected patrol.
The five men would be able to do very little against a band of MacKinnions, but a party of scouts was better than no warning at all.
That warning was becoming increasingly important, for Dugald feared more and more that the tower itself would be attacked, not just the crofts.
The sky was turning pink already, but Sheena would not let her spirits sink, even though her time in the glen would be cut short.
Today was bathing day, and she planned to take impish pleasure in shocking her sisters by not bathing with them, for they would never guess she had already done so.
It was just one of the little pranks she played on her sisters to get even for their constant nagging.
Margaret was usually the first to call her wild and irresponsible, and to complain to their father that no man would have Sheena because she was slovenly, disrespectful, and much too bold.
Her father knew better. She wasn’t really wild, and certainly not slovenly. He knew her love for swimming and riding, which was why he had forbidden her to leave the tower. She was a touch disrespectful, but only when her temper was riled did she dare argue with her father.
Sheena sighed. There had been a lot of that lately, especially the month before when he gave up expecting her to name a husband. He had done so for her. The only good thing about it was that it had put William out of the running.
“Will you join me this time, laddie?” Sheena asked as they reached the high bank that looked down on the little pool. “The water should be warm enough. Oh, it does look inviting!”
“And who’d watch over you, eh?” Niall shook his head and plopped down on his favorite rock. From there he could view the whole of the moor on this side of the glen.
“But you haven’t swum once this summer, and I know you love it as much as I. In the spring you said the water was too cold, and then the trouble began.”
“We shouldna have come here, Sheena,” he said.
Sheena grinned at his stern look. “You worry too much, m’dear. Where’s your sense of adventure gone? You havena once asked me to go fishing with you this summer, nor grouse hunting.”
“’Tis no’ that I havena wanted to.”
“I know—the trouble.” She sighed and stepped behind him to shed her clothes. “The MacKinnion’s ruined all our fun this year. Soon ’twill be too cold to come here. I’ve only enjoyed my pool four times in these months, instead of twice weekly. Soon I’ll be married, and then where’ll I be swimming?”
“I doubt The MacDonough will allow you your sport, Sheena,” Niall said. One of his moments of maturity was upon him.
“Dinna say that, little brother, or I’ll no’ agree to the vows,” she said sharply.
Sheena dived into the crystal-clear water and came up in time to hear Niall call down to her, “Do you have a choice, Sheena?”
She frowned. Did she? Her father was firmly set on Alasdair MacDonough. He had heartily agreed to the match because MacDonoughs, who lived halfway between the Fergussons and the MacKinnions, were at peace with the MacKinnions and could help Dugald sue for peace.
She had met Sir Alasdair for the first time on the day they were betrothed, so she knew little about him.
He was pleasing to look upon and not nearly as old as William, although not as young as she would have liked, either.
He was about thirty-three years old. Her father was undoubtedly trying to please her by choosing a young, personable husband.
She was sure of that—and just as sure that he hadn’t detected the arrogance of The MacDonough.
She had seen it, though, and knew he was unbearably self-centered.
He would probably put restrictions on her, and his pride would demand she conform.
Sheena bristled. “’Tis no’ nice of you to remind me of my plight, Niall Fergusson,” she called up to him, piqued. “I dinna see you facing anything so loathsome as marriage to a stranger.”
“Nay, but Father has threatened to send me to an English court the next time I get into trouble. He says I’m too old to be pulling pranks and breaking rules.”
“Aye, and so you are.”
“So what am I doing here, I ask you?”
“Protecting me, just as I’ll protect you from Father if we’re found out. Dinna fash yourself, Niall. He’ll no’ send you away for something so harmless.”
“Risking your life is no’ harmless, Sheena,” Niall retorted. “Do hurry.”
He threw down her soap as a hint, and Sheena saw she wouldn’t get a long swim.
She began to wash herself, frowning at her own thoughtlessness.
Niall really was terrified of being sent away to a court full of strangers, and English strangers at that.
She knew it, yet she risked their father’s wrath for a few moments of her own pleasure.
It wasn’t right. Niall came with her to the glen only because he loved her.
If she got him in trouble because of it, she’d never forgive herself.
“I’ll make it up to you, Niall. The next time you get into trouble, I’ll take the blame. I used to, remember.”
“Yes, I know you did.”
“What can Father do to me when I’m to be married in two months?”
“Give you a taste of the taws.”
“Och, he wouldna. I’m too old for the leather strap. Dinna worry about being sent away, Niall But once I’m married and gone, you’re on your own, laddie.”
“I’ll be raiding then, as Father promised. That’ll be enough adventure to keep me out of trouble.”
“You sound as if you look forward to raiding,” Sheena said, shocked.
“Raiding the MacKinnions, yes. I’d give anything to meet The MacKinnion himself.”
Sheena gasped. “Are you daft, Niall? He’d chop off your head. He’s a mean one, and no mistake.”
“I dinna believe all the stories about him.”
“He’s a thieving murderer! Have you forgotten six of our clan have died these last months?”
“And a like number of his clan, no doubt, since Father was honor-bound to raid them, as well. But you canna deny he’s brave, Sheena, the bravest man we know of.”
“I dinna deny he’s bold, but you dinna have to be praising him.”
“I respect his courage.”
“Respect him all you like, just pray you never meet the man, or you’ll be respecting him from your place inside a coffin.”
Sheena finished her bath, left the pool, and wrung out her hair to braid it. As she donned her clothes, Niall spoiled the pleasant day by announcing, “Cousin William returns today.”
Sheena’s eyes closed in dread. “Are you sure?”
“Aye.”
“You’ve got to stay close to me, Niall. Please. If he finds me alone, he’ll start his threats again.”
“You managed to avoid him after he threatened the MacKinnion match.”
“Aye. And fortunately Father decided on The MacDonough while Willie was away, and ’twas arranged ’afore he returned.”
“You want Sir Alasdair then?”
“Better him than William. But I’m no’ married yet,” she pointed out. “There’s still time for our cousin to cause trouble. I fear he’s very bitter and would do it for spite.”
“Why don’t you just tell Father?”
Sheena shook her head firmly. “William would only deny it. He’d say I wanted revenge for some imagined slight. Father might believe him, for he knows I despise William. And he trusts him. William was Mother’s favorite cousin.”
Sheena could have bitten her tongue. Why had she mentioned their mother? She had died a few days after Niall’s birth, and he foolishly blamed himself. It upset him to talk of her. Sheena had never been close to her mother, being her father’s pride and joy, but Niall had never known her at all.
“I’m sorry, Niall. Come on, we’d best be getting home ’afore the sun gets much higher.”
They had just safely reentered the tower house and gone around back to the kitchens when the commotion started. The patrol returned at a tearing gallop with an unconscious prisoner. Word spread through the house like quicksilver that the man captured was a MacKinnion.
That night, Dugald Fergusson was in his glory. He had a MacKinnion in his dungeon who could be ransomed for the return of all the Fergusson livestock taken that summer. Just in time for market, too. It would be a prosperous year after all.
Killing the man was never considered. That would be suicide, bringing the whole MacKinnion clan down on them. To kill a man in a fair fight was one thing. To kill a prisoner was something entirely different.
Sheena slept that night with no thought for the man in the dungeon. William MacAfee was on her mind—and she was conceiving ways of avoiding him while he was a guest in the tower.
Niall slept not at all, for he could think of nothing else but the man in the dungeon. A MacKinnion, a real live MacKinnion!