Chapter Two
The clang of metal crashing together echoed in the air as men practiced their fighting skills in the yard. Errol MacLeod felt the force of the strike he’d just blocked reverberate down his arm.
He smiled. “Yer skill is improving, Angus,” he commended his young cousin, and the lad grinned broadly.
“I’ve the best tutor.”
At the age of ten and three, Angus was tall and well on his way to growing as big, if not bigger, than his father—Errol’s uncle.
“Go wash up. Ye did well today.”
Errol scanned the courtyard. His father’s men had been training hard all day.
An exercise that was important to ensure the safety of their clan.
Thankfully, they hadn’t needed to fight in recent months, though the harsh weather of winter was to thank for that.
However, it was a nice break from the constant raids and battles of the past.
“Care for a spar?”
Errol turned to see his cousin Robbie waiting for him to accept the challenge. Being the same age, he and Robbie had grown up together and were close as brothers.
“I see ye had yer hands full with Angus,” he jested.
“Dinnae pick on yer brother. He works hard to prove himself.”
Robbie tapped him on the shoulder with the tip of his sword. Errol brought his own sword up and used it to put distance between the two of them.
The men circled each other.
“He’ll make a fine warrior one day.” Errol said as Robbie lunged forward and he stepped to the side, swinging back around and catching his cousin on the upper left arm, careful to hit with the flat side of his blade.
“Lucky shot,” Robbie huffed.
Errol shrugged. “Angus is going to be of formidable size once he’s fully grown.”
Robbie beamed with pride, as if the lad was his own.
“Aye.” Robbie swung and Errol brought his sword up to defend the strike.
His cousin was strong, but he was stronger. Back and forth they went, until they were both spent and breathing hard.
A messenger entered, and Errol called him over.
The young boy wore the colors of the Harts and Errol’s eyes narrowed.
What the hell did they want now? The two clans had shared a tumultuous past. They weren’t in an outright war, but they also wouldn’t hesitate to attack if they felt one of them had been wronged in any way.
Beside him, Robbie crossed his arms and pierced the lad with a stern look.
“I bring a message for Miss Anna from Miss Moira.”
He should have guessed as much. Laird Hart wouldn’t send a lad to deliver a message of official business.
Errol sighed. No matter how much strife continued betwixt the two clans, his sister and the eldest Hart daughter would not cease their friendship. He motioned to the keep.
“Go to the kitchens and get yerself a meal for yer work.” He held out his hand and the lad gave the message to him. He’d bring it to Anna.
There was no need to read it first. He’d made that mistake in the past. He had no interest in the menial conversations of lasses, especially ones betwixt his younger sister and her friend.
“They are still communicating?” Robbie asked. “I am surprised yer da hasnae put an end to it.”
Errol shook his head. “’Tis no’ for his lack of trying. Anna is as stubborn as he is.”
Robbie chuckled. “A family trait, I’d say.”
With a scowl, Errol shouldered past his cousin in search of his sister.
He found her speaking to her maid, Fina, in the hall leading to the kitchens. He should have just had the messenger deliver the damn note since they were in the same area.
Anna scrunched her nose as he approached.
“Brother, ye should clean up afore entering the kitchens. Maighread will have yer head if she sees ye.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “Though likely she’ll smell ye before she sees ye.”
His sister and her maid giggled.
He cocked his head to the side and fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he held his hand out. “A message from Moira has arrived for ye.”
Anna snatched the missive from his hand and cradled it to her chest, then eyed him suspiciously, her eyes narrowed. “Did ye read it?” she asked.
“Nay. I’ve better ways to spend my time.” Errol turned on his heel and left the girls giggling after him.
He wondered if he could convince his father into arranging another trip to Hart lands to meet with Laird Hart and his council.
The meeting would result in naught, however, mayhap Errol would be able to catch a glimpse or two of bonny Moira.
He’d seen her the past few times they’d met, and his body roared to life each time.
Errol remembered her from when he and her brothers actually spent time as friends instead of enemies when they were younger. She used to trail behind them trying to keep up. Not any longer, though.
Now she was grown with pale blue eyes, shaped like a cat’s, and fringed with long lashes. Her dark blonde hair fell in thick waves over her shoulders. Her skin was the color of ivory and he could only imagine that it would be soft as velvet under his fingertips.
Clearing his throat, he discreetly adjusted himself as he continued to his bedchamber to wash up. His body didn’t care that they could never be together. The animosity between their two clans would never allow it.
But in his mind, his thoughts ran rampant.
When he thought of the Hart brothers, anger had him clenching his fists.
They were so smug during every meet. So much so that Errol wanted to march up to them and beat the smirks off their faces.
They wouldn’t be so assured then. Like Alpin, the eldest Hart sibling, Errol would also one day be laird.
The strife between them and their clans would continue even then. He could sense it. Jaw clenched, he stomped up the stairs.
They’d been fighting off and on for so many years that both lairds would be hard pressed to say what exactly was the cause of the strife. Their clans were similar in size, though the MacLeod was slightly larger. With the Hart owning slightly larger lands.
Errol only kenned he hated them.
The Harts could not be trusted.
Even if they had shared brief respites of fighting in past years, it was never enough for them to solve their grievances. Whatever grievances those might be.
He also believed they had other worries.
Bigger clans from the north that would attack if they got the chance.
Smaller clans from the west that, whilst they wouldn’t attempt a full-on attack on their own, they’d had no qualms sending out small parties to steal sheep and cattle, or to hunt on MacLeod lands.
In his chamber, he splashed cool water on his face before pulling his tunic over his head. He ran the cloth he’d soaked with water across his chest, wiping away the sweat and dirt from his sword practice earlier.
Stripping off his trews, he washed below his waist, his cock heavy in his hands at the thoughts of Moira running rampant through his mind once again.
“Fool,” he mumbled in the empty room, angry with himself for thinking of the enemy with anything other than hatred.
After drying off, he dressed in a clean tunic and trews and made his way back to the kitchens.
Maighread, the MacLeod cook, smiled as he entered and waved him into a chair. Within moments, she’d set a tankard of ale and a plate of crusty bread, cheese, and dried meats in front of him. “Eat. Are ye losing weight? Ye look like it.”
He wasn’t. It was just her way to mother him. Something she had done since he’d lost his mother years ago when she was birthing Anna.
Clearing the plate, he thanked the cook and left in search of his father.
“Brother.”
He paused at Anna’s call and spun around. The look she had on her face told him that he wouldn’t like what she was going to say. Being the youngest MacLeod sibling and one that had never had the chance to know their beautiful mother, all the MacLeod men held a soft spot in their hearts for her.
Even Errol, whose heart had long been hardened, had a difficult time refusing his little sister whatever she asked for.
She held her hand up, waving the letter the messenger had delivered.
He frowned. It was because of her circumstances that they even allowed the friendship between she and Moira to continue. They’d met during one of the times of peace and both refused to give up on the other.
“What do ye require?” He asked.
Anna shook her head. “Naught. I only need to speak to ye.”
Errol crossed his arms and looked down at his sister, eyebrows raised in question. “Go on, then.”
She looked around the corridor they were standing in.
“No’ here.” Grabbing his hand, she pulled him toward one of the small antechambers they saved for guests. Once inside, Anna closed the door behind them.
“Are ye daft?”
His sister pierced him with an annoyed look. “As ye ken, I received a letter from Moira.”
He kept his face neutral, refusing to let anyone ken the effect the lass had on him. “As ye have had many times afore.”
“Right. But this time she is asking for help.”
“Help how?” He couldn’t keep the interest out of his voice.
“I am no’ sure, exactly. She didnae say. Only that she needs to enlist yer assistance.”
Errol scoffed. “She has her brothers to ask help of.”
“Aye, she does. Though it sounds like this is something that she doesnae want to make them aware of.”
He moved to take the note out of Anna’s hand, but she snapped her hand back. “She doesnae speak of specifics. Only that she needs ye. Specifically, ye,” she reiterated.
Looking over her shoulder, he glared at the wall and clenched his jaw. It could be a trap. Had someone learned of his admiration of the lass? In doing so, were they now trying to use that against him? It was the oldest trick to try to lure a man in with the promise of a beautiful lass.
He wouldn’t be one to fall for it.
“I cannae help her. If, indeed, that is what she is asking.”
It was Anna’s turn to cross her arms. “Why no’?”
“Ye verra weel ken why. Da and I have allowed ye two to continue yer friendship e’en though it goes against e’erything we believe. Ye two are innocent in the conflict. Howe’er, dinnae push us on this. Whate’er she needs, she can discuss with her brothers and father.”
“Ye are so stubborn. Why can ye no’ help?” She shook the paper in the air. “She wrote asking for ye for a reason. There has to be a reason she isnae involving her siblings.”
Errol sighed, pushing his hands through his hair.
“I cannae. ’Tis too dangerous. There are things ye dinnae need to fash yerself o’er. Ye should consider yerself lucky that ye neednae think of such things. Now, go find Fina and dinnae speak of this again.”
“But—”
He felt bad denying Anna her request, but this was one he couldn’t, wouldn’t budge on.
“Nay. Enough.”
Not wanting to entertain his sister’s antics any longer, he left her and made his way to the stables.
He had a new horse that he was in the process of training.
The beast huffed when he entered, bobbing his black head up and down in greeting.
Errol offered him a carrot from the bushel beside the stalls and the horse happily accepted the treat.
He ran his hands slowly down the horse’s mane, speaking in low tones.
“Ye’ll make a fine warhorse one day, Dubh Bàn.
” The name meant black and white, and he fit the moniker perfectly since whilst he was mostly black, he had a perfect white circle on his right rear flank.
As if the horse understood his words, he dipped his head and bumped Errol’s shoulder.
Leading him out to the corral, he walked the horse in a wide circle, giving him time to adjust to the feel of having the saddle on him. Errol hadn’t ridden him yet. No one had. The beast was a little too wild for the others and most gave him a wide berth so as not to draw his ire and a kick.
As Dubh Bàn continued trotting in circles, Errol’s mind wandered. To places it shouldn’t. To people it shouldn’t. To a certain lass in particular that it shouldn’t.
It made no sense that Moira was asking specifically for him. He could offer her naught on top of what her brothers could. But Anna was insistent. And why wouldn’t Moira tell Anna what it was she needed him for and why?
Again, it had to be a trap. Something her brothers and father had conceived.
Right?
He swore. Irritated that he’d allowed Moira to get under his skin.