Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Skye opened her eyes, squinting against the harsh light outside the cave. They had ridden steadily the past few days and had camped just outside the grounds of Castle Mackeith. After stretching out her sore limbs, she looked around camp and saw the horses were gone. A brief panic rose in her chest.
She stood and saw right away that Arran and Colin had taken their mounts to the creek’s edge to water them, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She walked to her satchel and pulled out her comb, a small cloth she’d packed for washing, and a bar of soap.
She walked to the water’s edge and greeted the men. “Good day, husband, Colin. Ye should have woken me up.”
“We are only a few minutes’ ride from the castle, so there was no need,” Arran explained, coming to kiss her on the head.
Skye appreciated his affection, as her nerves were high, considering the circumstances. Then she bent down, dipped the cloth in the ice-cold water, and wiped her face.
“I’ll wash quickly, and then we can be on our way. We have to be there before the wedding ceremony starts.”
“Aye, we do. But we have time. It’s still early.”
Skye waited until the men had left and then washed herself as best as she could. Then she took her comb and tried to tame her unruly curls. She combed and pulled but could not completely detangle the knots.
Eventually, she gave up and braided her hair, then wound it in a knot at the base of her neck. She wanted to look good for Arran, but she also had to be prepared for anything today. Her hair could not hinder her.
When she rejoined Arran and Colin at the camp, they were ready to ride.
Arran helped her mount her Iona, and she did not miss how he squeezed her buttocks when he gave her a final boost into the saddle.
And right in front of the other men.
Her face reddened a bit, but if Arran’s soldiers noticed, they didn’t show it. She giggled to herself at her husband’s playfulness, enjoying the fact that he was unable to keep his hands off her.
Once in the saddle, she headed back up the narrow rock ravine and waited for Arran to follow.
Once back on the path, Skye turned to Colin. “Tell me, Colin. If I’m to approach this woman and convince her to jilt Blackwell at the altar, I should ken more about her. What do ye know of her?”
“Not much, me Lady,” he answered. “I do ken that she was widowed nigh on two years ago. She has a son of about sixteen years of age and a daughter who is either seventeen or eighteen.”
“What happened to her husband?”
“He died from an injury, I believe.”
“Was this Lilias a woman of means?”
“Nay, me Lady. She was left with practically nothing after her husband died. Nae gold and nae family either.”
Helpless, and in need of a savior. Poor woman
Skye thought for a moment then replied, “I guess I understand why she would want to remarry. She needs a home for herself and her children. She isnae very old, is she?”
“I daenae ken her age, me Lady, but I do ken that Blackwell believes she is still able to give him an heir. But if she doesnae, then he is willin’ to declare her son his heir.”
“But surely, she has heard the stories about him. She must ken she’s putting herself and possibly her children in danger,” Skye argued.
“The woman may be playing her own game, Skye,” Arran pointed out. “If she marries Blackwell and he names her son his heir, then she may be willing to endure him through his last years. After all, he isnae young.”
Skye paused and then nodded. “A risky bet, but ye are right. If Blackwell dies, then she and her son will get everything.”
She hoped that the promise of inheriting the MacKeith lands and riches would not cloud Lilias’s judgment. She knew how greed and wealth could change people.
They were silent as they climbed the hill to Castle MacKeith. The large stone structure with its manned towers looked as gray and foreboding as it ever did. There were no trees, no flowers, and barely any grass around the castle.
Nae like home.
The thought surprised her.
Home. She’d never allowed herself until now to think of Arran’s lands and castle as her home. The flowers and herbs she planted, the beautiful fields that lay in front of the keep, and the dense forest and loch beyond.
Aye, that’s home.
“Stop where ye are!” the guard at the top of the gate shouted. “Announce yerselves and yer business!”
The noise startled Skye, and her heart immediately began to race, but Arran quickly took control. He urged Devil forward and shouted back, “Laird MacArthur here with Laird MacKeith’s daughter, Skye, me wife. We are here to celebrate her stepfaither’s wedding.”
The guards looked at each other and then nodded. The heavy gate opened.
“Ye may enter!”
Skye, Arran, and Colin rode through the gate, and once inside, a stable boy rushed forward to tend to the horses, but Arran motioned for him to halt.
Skye looked around the courtyard and noticed something strange. It looked almost empty, with only a few clansmen milling about—and it was eerily quiet.
“Arran, where is everyone?”
“At the kirk, perhaps?” Colin suggested.
“Hmm,” Skye murmured. “But the guests… Where are their horses? The courtyard and stables should be overflowing.”
The trio walked past the keep entrance and rounded the corner to the kirk. But the kirkyard was also empty, and the doors were closed.
Skye ran to the doors and threw them open. The chapel was empty. This could not be! The wedding should be here! But where were the guests? More than that, where where the bride and groom?”
“Arran, I daenae ken. The wedding is today, so where are they?”
She watched as Arran looked around the empty chapel, and then he started pacing as he thought.
“He tricked us,” he said finally.
“What do ye mean? He’s nae getting married?” Colin asked.
“Nay. He’s gettin’ married, just nae here. I think he’s at the kirk in Glen Aonarach.”
“That doesnae make sense, me Laird. Why would he go there?”
Skye knew why, and her heart sank. Blackwell, with his never-ending desire to boast about his power and a penchant for cruelty, would marry on the lands that Arran’s grandfather lost.
“Of course, he would!” she snapped suddenly. “He wants to flaunt to all of the Highlands that with this union, Arran’s lands will remain with the MacKeiths.”
“Aye, ye are right, Skye. He wants to leave me with nay recourse.”
“But do we have time, Arran? Aonarach is several hours’ ride from here.”
“The wedding party would have left early this morning, so they are well ahead of us. However, their travel will be slow. We might catch up if we ride swiftly.”
Colin, Arran and Skye wasted no time in getting back to their horses. Once out of the courtyard, they urged their mounts into a gallop and sped toward Glen Aonarach.
“Arran, have ye thought about what will happen if we daenae make it in time? Will it really be so bad?”
Arran thought for a moment and then replied, “At our wedding, Skye, I let meself think that the land didnae matter. Me clan was so happy. They celebrated with me, with us. And when I was sick, the care they gave me made me think that they could forget the lost lands, and this doubt and worry about me leadership could be put behind us.”
“I think ye are right, Arran. I think the clan could move on.”
“But then I spoke with Magnus,” he continued in a weary tone. “He said that me faither’s will was ironclad. He made his wishes clear, and the council was in complete agreement. It cannae be undone.”
He looked at her guiltily. “And if I daenae get the lands back, then ye should never have married me. If I daenae stop this marriage, then I’ll lose the chance at ever gettin’ the lands back, and ye’d have married a pauper, Skye. Ye will have nothing.”
Skye fell silent as she absorbed his words.
“I would have a great deal more than nothing,” she declared with conviction, but she knew she did not have the time or confidence to explain to him how much he meant to her.
“What is most important is stopping the weddin’.
Nae because of the lands, nae even because of ye losing Clan MacArthur, but because another woman is about to be deceived by Blackwell. ”
He looked up at her and nodded. “Ye are right! And if we stand a chance, then we must go now.”
The group rode steadfastly onward. They put the horses to a ground-eating pace that they could maintain.
When the beasts tired, they got off and walked them, before climbing back aboard and continuing on.
When the road turned into a narrow path, they slowed their horses to a walk, letting them pick their way.
An hour passed, and Skye heard nothing but the wind wailing down the mountainside and the horses’ ehooves hitting the hard-packed ground. She was tense, and she worried. She glanced over at Arran and saw him staring ahead, his gaze unwavering, his jaw set with determination.
Colin scanned their surroundings, looking for any threats.
The stakes were high, and Skye knew that failure wasn’t an option. She had to try and save this woman.
And help Arran’s clan get their lands back.
The sun hung in the west over the rugged landscape, signaling it was late afternoon, as Skye, Arran, and Colin, and Arran’s men arrived at Glen Aonarach.
Tall pines loomed over their path, providing shade from the warm afternoon sun.
The sound of rushing water from a nearby stream grew louder as they approached the kirk nestled in a small clearing.
The modest gray stone structure stood in contrast to the bright blue sky. She could see the small cemetery past the building. The kirkyard held several stones.
The scene was idyllic, and Skye could see why Clan MacArthur would not want to give up this special place.
It was evident as they neared the kirk that the wedding party had arrived. At least twenty horses were tied to posts, and two wagons were parked nearby. Outside the kirk doors, three guards stood watch.
They stopped, secured the horses, and Arran and Skye didn’t waste any time. They approached the guards.
“Greetings, lads. I am Skye Gilroy, Lady of Clan MacArthur, and I am here to witness the nuptials of me faither, Laird MacKeith.”
She almost gagged at the thought of Blackwell as a father, but she managed to smile.
The guards looked leery.
“Me husband and I want to wish him well. And as ye can see, we came with only a small escort. We mean him nay harm.”
The guards looked past them and then at each other. One nodded, and then they opened the doors.
Skye and Arran inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Their plan had worked, so far. Skye could hardly believe their luck.
Inside the kirk, the mood was reverent. Two elaborate candelabras adorned with lit candles flanked the altar, but there were no flowers. A priest stood looking down at the bride and groom. Few people graced the pews, and those who did looked downtrodden and somber.
It was not the wedding scene many would expect.
Laird MacKeith stood at the front, dressed in his Highland finery. Lilias Conner, the bride-to-be, stood beside him in a simple but elegant cream-colored gown.
Blackwell turned when the door opened and the bright sunlight streamed in. A smug smile spread across his lips when he saw Arran and Skye cross the threshold. The small gathering of witnesses murmured quietly at the intrusion.
Arran walked swiftly to the front of the kirk, with Skye and Colin at his heels. All eyes were on them. Everyone held their breath.
Arran’s voice boomed through the cavernous chapel, and his words were delivered with pure authority. “Ye’ll nae go through with this, MacKeith. We willnae let ye.”