Chapter 26
CHAPTER 26
“He’s building an army.”
Noah looked up from the letter he was writing and frowned at Callum, who walked into his study and closed the door behind him.
As he did so, Noah realized that the candles had burned low at the wick and the fire was now only embers. He had been lost in his thoughts for many hours, and it was already late afternoon outside.
“Who?” Noah asked, but he knew it could only be one man.
“The priest,” Callum replied gravely. “He is amassing a great followin' to claim the witch and get her back. Clearly, he doesnae believe his business with her is concluded.”
Noah thought back to the note Keira had given him a few days before, those ominous words he had not had the heart to repeat aloud.
I’ll cure ye, and we will be together.
He felt a shiver run down his spine at that threat. He didn’t believe the priest really wanted to kill Keira. He wanted to weaken her, leaving her with no choice but to accept his hand, and then he would have her, just as he’d wanted all along.
“How many?”
“A few hundred at least. It isnae just Donaldson either; he has polluted the minds of anyone he came across, including some in our own clan. They may be ill-equipped to face soldiers, but they’ll overwhelm us in terms of numbers. I think we underestimated him.”
Noah pounded his fist into the table and stood up, walking across the room to the dying fire and poking it viciously, watching a hail of sparks erupt and float up into the chimney.
He hadn’t seen Keira since the day before when she had summarily dismissed him from her sight. He was desperate to know she was safe now, even though he knew, logically, she must be in the castle somewhere and there was little threat to her here.
Callum was watching him silently and Noah tried to school his expression to mask his rage, but he wasn’t entirely successful.
He had always held his cards close to his chest. If he could prevent it, he would never reveal his inner feelings to anyone. It was something he had learned from his father—one of the few useful things that man had ever taught him.
Dinnae let them ken what ye are thinkin’ son — that way, they have nothin’ they can use against ye.
Noah had little trouble hiding most of his emotions, but not when he was angry. Rage settled over his face like a mask he could not shake.
Why did this priest have power over so many? He had accused Keira of witchcraft, yet he seemed to have cast a spell over the population of two clans in the space of a few days.
He would not risk her being taken from him again. He could not.
“What do ye wish me to do, Me laird?” Callum asked. The teasing light had gone from his eyes, replaced by dark determination. Noah turned, meeting his gaze, knowing that his friend would carry out any orders that he gave him without hesitation. Keira was not alone now; she had a castle of men at her disposal, and he intended to use them.
“Let him come,” he said, a quiver of rage in every word, “I want to end this once and for all.”
Callum nodded. “Aye, me laird, we’ll be ready. I’ll keep ye informed of his movements.”
With that, Callum left the room.
Noah rubbed at his chest, feeling the familiar ache leap up again. He wanted to immerse himself in thoughts of Keira to distract himself like he had done before, but all he could picture was her flesh burning, her screams echoing as he arrived too late to save her.
He walked to the window, trying to regain his self-control. He breathed deeply for several minutes as he focused on the swaying tops of the trees ahead of him, blowing in the breeze.
As the throbbing sound of his own blood began to recede and the pain dissipated a little, he heard the familiar clash of steel from the courtyard below him and, on looking down, saw Scott’s familiar form sparring with one of the guards.
He looked back at his desk and the myriad of letters he was still to write. He had a duty to tell the other lairds of any threat, but at that moment, he could only focus on Keira and her plight.
Any further correspondence would have to wait until he could relieve the tension in his muscles. He looked down at the courtyard and made up his mind, walking swiftly from the room.
Scott stood in the wide courtyard with a guard opposite him, both of them holding swords in their hands. Despite only training for a short while, Scott had graduated quickly from wooden swords to real metal. The boy's grace of movement when he fought showed that he had the blood of a warrior.
Just like his sister, Noah thought affectionately, damn the woman.
The guard was an older man named Bailey, who had been with the MacAllen family since Noah was a child. He was stern to look at, with thick gray hair and a substantial beard, but his eyes were kind.
“Good!” Bailey said enthusiastically as Scott disarmed him with a well-practiced training move, Bailey’s sword clattering over the cobbles. “Excellent. Remember to move quick as ye circle me. Ye have to be light on the balls of yer feet, lad.”
“Did I hurt ye?” Scott asked worriedly as Bailey bent down to retrieve his sword and winced, holding his back.
The older man chuckled. “Nae, that’s life, lad. Ye cannae injure old bones, and it is them that’s protestin’.”
“Perhaps he needs a new partner for a spell,” Noah said as he approached, and the guard gave him a formal bow.
“Aye, me laird, he’s a quick one. Watch yer step!” he said with a wink as he departed.
Scott turned to Noah, but his expression was not quite as kind as it had been the day he taught him to fight.
“I ken ye are angry with me, lad,” Noah said hesitantly. “But that business is between me and yer sister.”
“Daisy told me ye’d asked her to marry ye.”
Noah watched him, feeling the familiar excitement and uncertainty plague him once more. He had not thought of how his proposal would affect Scott and Daisy, or that it might get back to them so fast.
“Aye,” he said slowly. “I was reminded I had me honor to maintain,” Noah stated gently, and he watched as the anger in Scott’s eyes faded.
“Ye better do right by her. Or I’ll use me dirk properly next time,” Scott said, holding up his sword and pointing it at him in warning.
Noah laughed, shrugging his injured shoulder experimentally. “I have nae doubt. Now, show me what ye have been learnin’.”
Scott grinned and backed off into a practiced stance. Noah selected his sword and matched it.
“Try nae to draw blood this time, lad.”
“Try and stop me!”
Keira sniffed the bubbling liquid with some trepidation, dipping her ladle into the concoction and watching the swirling patterns dance before her eyes.
She could only imagine what Noah would think if he walked in on her now, standing over a smoking black pot over a fire.
She stirred it again, concerned that she may have used too much meadowsweet, but she was glad she had consulted more texts about the foxgloves. Even a small error in the measurements could poison a patient. She had dismissed the idea of adding any at all for fear of somehow harming him.
She had made up several poultices with them instead, which she believed might be effective for other ailments, so her time had not been wasted.
She sniffed the brew again, taking an experimental sip, and was gratified to learn that it did not taste half as revolting as it smelled. She double-checked the recipe and was satisfied that she had made it as best she could and poured the contents into a small jar.
The steaming liquid bubbled as it cooled, and she covered it with gauze to allow it to breathe.
Perhaps it would help him, perhaps it would not, but somehow, she felt better in her heart that she had some kind of solution, whatever the results might be.
She looked up as she heard a high giggle from outside her room, recognizing the sound as coming from Daisy. It was so rare that her sister found anything to be cheerful about that she was rather perplexed. She left the room to go and investigate.
Daisy stood at the end of the long corridor near her chambers, looking down at the courtyard below her. Keira could hear the clash of swords and the odd grunt of effort. She joined Daisy, looking through the window to see Scott and Noah sparring below them.
Noah’s back was soaked in sweat. Keira watched the playof muscles over his shoulders as he swung his sword back and forth. He really was a beautiful man. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she watched his fingers grip the handle of the sword, remembering where they had been only the day before. She attempted to blot out the clawing need she had felt in that moment, even as she had walked away from him.
All the same, she was enjoying being able to observe him in relative secrecy.
It would be easier if I could stay angry with him for more than a matter of hours, she thought irritably.
“Scott is much better at fightin’ than he was,” Daisy said, cutting through her thoughts. “Laird MacAllen is going easy on him, though,” she said, her tone full of amusement as Scott gave out a loud comical roar, echoed by Noah’s deep booming laugh.
Keira stared at Noah in astonishment.
His countenance was entirely changed as he laughed, his head thrown back in a bright, rare smile as Scott pretended to swing at him viciously. They were both in fits of laughter, which meant his aim went slightly awry and missed Noah completely.
Noah’s eyes were gleaming, his face relaxed, happy, and impossibly handsome. She could not drag her eyes away from him, and when she did, she caught her sister gazing at her with a small smile on her lips.
“Ye like him,” Daisy said, looking back at Noah.
“What nonsense are ye speakin’, flower?” Keira chided, feeling her cheeks heat at the thought that her sister had discovered her feelings.
“Ye said ye dinnae ken if ye would marry him, but I think ye will. I think ye like him.”
“Och yes, and what do ye ken of such matters? Do ye have a man in yer life I must fight to the death?”
Daisy giggled again. “Nae, but Scott has a sweetheart!”
Keira stared at her. “What? Who?”
“He keeps helpin’ the maid who comes to our rooms, and I think he likes her.”
Keira thought of Fenella and her bonnie face and could well see why her brother might feel that way.
Daisy sighed. “One of the servin' girls said ye can make a love potion that will ensnare a man. She said her maither told her that was what healers were famous for. Maybe I should try it!”
Keira shook her head, frowning at her sister disapprovingly. “That’s the kind of nonsense Lucas would accuse me of. Have I ever offered such a thing?” As Daisy’s easy smile faded, Keira quickly continued, bumping her shoulder gently. “Love is a matter of the heart, flower; ye cannae manufacture it any more than ye can manufacture hate. Love has to be earned before it can be given.”
“It must be nice,” Daisy said longingly, “to care for someone and be cared for like that.”
Kiera was about to reply when someone cleared their throat. Keira turned to find Fenella standing behind them.
Fenella’s expression was far colder than it had been; her mouth was pursed in a look of disapproval, and her back was tense as a bowstring.
“Fenella?” Kiera asked. Daisy turned, her arm hooking around Keira’s as she watched the maid. Fenella’s presence clearly discomforted Daisy, and Keira could understand why; her gaze was positively hostile.
“This came for ye,” Fenella said, her eyes hard and dejected as she held out an envelope.
Keira took it, and as soon as the delivery had been made, Fenella turned on her heel, swishing away from them down the corridor.
As she reached the archway to the stairs, she turned and gave Keira one last withering look before she descended.
“What was that about?” Daisy asked in confusion, but Keira could not answer. She was staring at the note in her hand—the curved writing so familiar it sent dread running down her spine.
Keira broke the seal with trembling fingers, but before she opened it entirely, she looked back at Daisy.
“Go to yer room, flower,” she said firmly.
“But what is it?”
“Go!”
Daisy winced, and then her eyes filled with tears as she ran to her chambers. Keira could hear her sobs as she slammed her bedroom door, but she would rather that than Daisy see what Lucas had written.
She opened the letter to find one line scrawled in a spiking hand, each word looking more unhinged than the last.
In two days, ye’ll be mine.
Keira swallowed, anxiety fluttering in her gut and making her throat dry.
She stalked away from the window and her brother’s high, joyous laughter. All the happiness and contentment she had been feeling had been snuffed out by those six, awful words.
She reached the entryway to the staircase where Fenella had disappeared and walked down the stone steps, feeling as if the walls were closing in around her as she descended.
She made her way out to the courtyard, where Scott and Noah had ceased their sparring and were standing beside the fountain.
“Before every battle?” Scott was saying.
“Aye,” Noah replied, “Callum thinks it helps clear the mind, but I put nae store by it.”
Noah protested loudly as Scott bent forward and dunked his head into the water, standing back up and flicking his head back with some force, spraying Noah with a great deal of water in the process.
Noah looked at him with exasperated affection. “Aye. Like that.”
“I feel better already,” Scott said, grinning, but then he turned and saw Keira approaching, and instantly, the grin disappeared. “Kee? What is it?”
“I must speak with Laird MacAllen,” she said quickly. Noah’s eyes were fixed on her, his hand running through his sodden hair as he tied it in a loose knot at the base of his neck. “Could ye give us a moment?” she said, looking at Scott.
Scott stood up straighter, his eyes angry and determined. “I’m a fighter now. I dinnae need to be kept in the dark about what is happening. It’s that villain again, isn’t it? I kenned he wasnae done with ye.”
Keira glanced between them, at a loss for words, but her gaze was caught by Noah’s dark eyes watching her.
“I thought ye dinnae wish to speak to me,” Noah said curiously, his hand on his belt, looking large and intimidating in the bright sunshine.
Her eyes were drawn down to his chest, where the water made the fabric stick to his tight muscles. She swallowed, but when her eyes returned to his face Noah was watching her with a knowing stare.
“Obviously, I wish to speak with ye, or I wouldnae ask,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and glancing at Scott. “Please,” she said to her brother. “Just a few minutes.”
“If I must defend yer honor again…” he spat, looking back at Noah as though they had not been laughing in each other's company only minutes before.
“I appreciate ye, Scott, and I ken ye only act to help me, but ye should never offer to protect a woman who dinnae ask for yer protection,” Keira said forcibly, feeling her nerves fracturing at the constant reminders that men seemed to be her only protection from the evils of the world. “Perhaps I should learn to fight with a sword meself,” she said defiantly, “and I wouldnae need anyone’s ‘protection’ again!”
Scott growled at her in frustration, violently throwing his sword to the ground and storming back into the castle.
She sighed expressively and turned back to Noah, whose expression was full of a new type of heat she hadn’t seen before. Was that admiration in his eyes? As her eyes flicked over him again, it seemed to her that he puffed out his chest under her gaze.
She held out the note. Noah’s eyes fell on it, and his lip curled unpleasantly as he took it from her outstretched fingers.
Noah opened the note, reading the single line within it, his jaw set, his eyes cold. He looked up at her as a numbness settled over her skin.
“He is comin’,” she said grimly.