Chapter Fifteen #2
Laria pulled her fingers from his and rolled forward out of the blankets.
The absence of her warmth was like a splash of cold water.
Cyrus watched her for a heartbeat as she crawled toward the low wall, her knees catching on the length of her petticoat.
But she made it there faster than he could stand and peeked over the side.
Looking back over her shoulder at him, her hair a tangled mass of curls and waves, she resembled a recently tupped wood elf.
“’Tis Rory,” she said. “With some men, ones I don’t recognize as Iain’s. ”
Cyrus approached the wall, skirting to the side to spy around the edge of the higher stone. Rory pounded again on the door. “Blast it, Cy!” He paused and turned to look out at the moor. “Where the bloody hell are ye?”
Cyrus stepped out, his hand shoving through his unruly hair. “Up here, Roar. What’s going on?”
One of Rory’s men pointed upward, and Rory threw back his head to look at the roof, where Laria now stood next to Cyrus.
“Iain changed from civil host to roaring monster when the two of ye couldn’t be found yesterday. He has a hundred men out here looking for ye.” He threw his arms wide. “And ye’re sitting out here in a broch that’s like a beacon on this empty moor.”
“’Tis secure,” Laria said. “And temporary.” Her voice sounded a bit rough, as if sleep still held her by the throat.
“We should get ye inside,” Cyrus said, but then he spied the horses. There’d be no way to hide them. His gaze lifted to the forest edge, a half mile away. “Ride there and tie yer horses, then return on foot.”
Rory dismounted, tossing the reins of his gray to his man. The MacLeod warriors turned, riding for the tree line while Rory waited to be let inside.
Cyrus curled his hand around Laria’s, pulling them both away from the edge. He stopped them at the top of the stairs, and she turned to look at him, her brows pinched. “What is it?”
“I…” He let go. “I just wanted to say…I like waking up next to ye.” And I want to do it the rest of my life. That would be a decent marriage proposal. But she’d said no.
She stared at his face, which was creased by sleeping on his arm, his beard unshaved for two days now. He rubbed a hand through his hair to calm it.
Her lips parted, and she blinked those wide eyes that looked gray-green in the muted morning light. “I slept through the night for the first time in months.”
Cyrus stared at her. He wanted her to see the truth in her words, and it was there. He raised his fingers to catch one of her curls, tucking it behind the soft edge of her ear. He opened his mouth to speak.
“What’s taking so bloody long?” Rory called. “My men are almost to the forest edge, and I’m still standing out here like a beggar who’s been turned away on Hogmanay.”
Cyrus released her hand. “We better let him in before he gobbles up the door and Leah stops believing any reassurances we give her.”
She exhaled and bent to gather their blankets. “Let’s see what fresh hell awaits us this day.”
They dragged the pallet and blankets down to the second floor and hurried to the first. Errol, Bonnie, and Oscar turned as one toward them as they descended the final stretch of chiseled stone stairs. Ginny was in Leah’s arms, the little girl holding her snout to muffle her barks.
“’Tis Rory MacLeod,” Cyrus said.
They looked to Laria, who nodded. “He’s an ally.” Errol and Bonnie lifted the heavy brace and opened the door for Rory.
“My men will be along soon. They should be let in right away, so they aren’t seen,” Rory said, striding toward Cyrus. His face was pinched in controlled fury. Something was amiss.
“Sara and the bairn?” Cyrus asked.
“Well when I sent her off this morn.”
“Sent her off?”
“I trust Iain even less after his night of ranting,” Rory said. “I encouraged him to drink to relax after a day of hunting for ye both.” His amber eyes moved to Laria and back to Cyrus. “The whisky just made him angrier, as if it had brought down the mask of diplomacy he likes to wear.”
Laria crossed her arms around herself. “Strong spirits bring out the truth of a person’s character.”
“He didn’t threaten Sara, did he?” Cyrus asked.
Rory’s gaze met his. “He wouldn’t be alive if he had.” He strode into the middle chamber, where a fire illuminated the space. Kate sat next to a sleeping Erskine, changing the poultice on his ragged back. “How is the man?”
“The man is actually Laria’s brother and has a claim to the chieftainship of Clan Macqueen,” Cyrus said.
“I’m fighting the fever before it starts,” Kate said, nodding to a tincture.
“I’m helping.” Leah set down the dog, who instantly began to run in circles around them. Ginny sniffed but didn’t bark.
“My grandson is strong,” Sophie said, nodding to Erskine. “He’ll survive.”
“Ye sent Sara off?” Cyrus asked. “And my mother?”
Rory’s face turned from Erskine to Cyrus. Questions sat plainly on his face, but he answered Cyrus. “I had Sara and Lady Olive prepare to leave at first light with five of the fiercest men I brought with me. I didn’t know where ye were, so I didn’t send them by yer ship.
“Sara and her party travel on horseback and will go first to Scorrybreac to tell Kenan and Tierney what’s afoot. I would not have Sara travel farther on horse while carrying our bairn. If Lady Olive wishes to continue to Dun Haakon, MacNicol men can escort her.”
Guilt tightened Cyrus’s chest. If anything happened to Sara and Rory’s bairn, the man might never forgive him. “Next time, ye have my permission to commandeer my ship. I’ll let my second-in-command know.”
“Next time?” Rory asked. “How many lunatics do ye plan to wed to Grace?”
Cyrus crossed his arms over his chest to hide his clenching fists.
“How was Iain toward Grace?” Had the monster in Iain come out with his new wife?
Did he punish her for Cyrus’s actions? Too many women were encouraged, some forced, to marry for alliances, and found out too late that they were trapped in a new life of ridicule and rape.
He would never leave Grace to that fate.
“When they ate last night, he was cordial, but he kept getting updates from his men, who were searching for ye. Grace, being the clever woman she is, kept the evening running smoothly, and he seemed kind to her. Even so, I wanted Sara out of there.”
“As long as Grace remains beautiful, capable, and docile, he’ll be kind to her,” Laria said.
“My sister may be beautiful and capable, but there’s little that is docile about her nature.” Cyrus should have heeded Laria’s warning note at the wedding. But he hadn’t had the information he did now, and hasty action would have started an immediate war with Clan Macqueen.
Rory’s gaze moved behind him to the people listening. “I can take any who wish to journey to Scorrybreac and Dunvegan. I told Sara I would follow once I found ye.”
Erskine’s deep voice came from the pallet where he still reclined on his stomach. “You should all go. I will hide easier alone.”
“Not with your back getting tainted,” Kate said with more force than Cyrus had heard from her before. “Leah and I are staying.” Kate’s hand moved to her slightly rounded stomach. Lord, help them. She was with child. “We stay as a family.”
Leah picked up the dog, hugging her to her chest. “Ginny too.”
“The rest of you should go,” Laria said and went to Sophie, taking her hands in hers. “Grandmama, this is the start of your progress through the clans, as a peace emissary from the Macqueens.”
Was Sophie’s mind sound enough to understand that she was really being taken away for her safety?
The elderly woman stood wrapped in a blanket, her hair in a simple braid.
She studied her granddaughter with sharp blue eyes, and her wrinkled hand rose to Laria’s cheek to stroke it. “I will not go without you.”
“You must. I cannot battle for us against Iain with you in danger—not just from Iain and his henchmen, but from cold and malnourishment.” Laria shook her head, sending her curls waving like fresh grass in a stream.
“I beg you, Grandmama, to go. I will follow.” Laria threw her arms around the old woman. “I beg you.”
Sophie hugged her back, raising her gaze over Laria’s shoulder to connect with Cyrus’s. Resignation softened her face. “Will you protect my only granddaughter, Cyrus Mackinnon?”
Before any tangled thoughts could stop him, Cyrus held his fist to his chest and stared directly into Sophie Macqueen’s eyes. “Always.” The single word sounded enough like an oath that Rory cursed softly.
Sophie inhaled slowly through her nose, and she stepped back from Laria, who turned to stare at Cyrus. “Then I will journey south,” Sophie said, “and you will follow.”
Laria clutched her grandmother’s hands in her gloved ones. “Thank you.”
Cyrus turned to the others. “Go with the MacLeods. At least for the winter.”
Glances shot around the dim room as the members of Clan Hope decided what they would do. Maxwell held his sister’s hand firmly, watching her for an indication. She nodded briskly, and he turned back to Cyrus. “Bernice and I will go.”
“The young should go, but I stay here to help my chief,” Oscar said, looking at Erskine.
Bonnie rubbed a finger along her nose and looked at Laria. “I’ll escort Lady Sophie, see to her needs.”
Laria strode over to the middle-aged woman and hugged her. She whispered something to her that made Bonnie nod and blink as if tears threatened her eyes.
Errol stood with his arms crossed. “I stay.”
“Those going with us,” Rory said, “gather yer things. We leave now, before the search parties become too thick.” He turned to Cyrus. “Will ye leave with us?” But his face was hard, as if he already knew his answer.
“I can’t leave Grace with a murderer,” Cyrus said, his gaze slipping to Laria, “and I’ve made a promise to keep Laria safe.”
Sophie gave a single regal nod before looking to Laria. “And you refuse to go?”
“Until Tuath and Staffin are safe once again,” Laria said.
Cyrus swallowed more easily as he heard her refuse. Much as he wanted Laria safe, having to watch her ride away with Rory would have been torture. And he needed her to find the damning proof against Iain.
“We head out within minutes,” Rory said. “Gather at the door.”
As members of the group dispersed, either packing their few possessions or helping those who were, Rory approached Cyrus.
His gaze flicked to where Laria was helping her grandmother pull on another layer of clothing for warmth, then focused back on his brother by oath.
“Cy.” He opened his hand, holding up the palm with four scars cut into it, each mark representing one of the four men who’d sworn to strategize for peace on Skye.
“We have a mission, one that ye preached loudly when Kenan wouldn’t marry yer sister for an alliance.
” He closed his fist, dropping it by his side as he glanced at Laria.
“I agree that marrying a woman who is sister to a man who could be the next chief of the Tuath Macqueens could support the mission, but there’s no understanding that the village will accept Erskine as chief.
Ye’re acting…out of character.” Rory rubbed the back of his neck.
“Sara says ye’ve been bewitched by Laria. ”
Cyrus had been taking in every twitch of Rory’s face, every dip and rise of his voice as he cautiously probed Cyrus’s commitment to their ultimate quest. “Sara spoke poorly of Laria?” Cyrus asked. Rory’s wife was brilliant—and usually kind.
Rory shook his head. “Sara thinks ye being bewitched by a dowerless renegade who has no home is a good thing for ye. That yer roguish heart has been caught.” He placed a hand on Cyrus’s shoulder and spoke in a low voice. “Are ye in love with her?”
Love? He was just working on trust.
Rory must have seen the indecision in his face. “Don’t answer. It gives me hope that ye’ll still consider one of the lasses on Kenan’s list, a bride who brings an army of thousands with her.”
“We’re ready, Chief Rory,” Maxwell called from the doorway, where people were hugging.
Cyrus watched Laria embrace each of those leaving, lingering on her grandmother while she tied her cloak at the woman’s throat.
Sophie caught her hands, kissing them, then touched her granddaughter’s cheek.
“Be well.” Her gaze shifted to Cyrus, then back to her granddaughter. “Choose wisely, Laria.”
Did Sophie consider him a wise choice? It was hard to tell.
As the door shut behind the small group, who would hurry across the moor to the horses waiting just within the forest line, Laria turned to Cyrus. “To Tuath Tower?”
“First,” he said, meeting the questions in her eyes, “I want to see Jane Macqueen’s bones.”