Chapter Seven
Murdoch stepped in front of Drummond to stop him just as he entered the great hall.
“I heard that Old Glengarten and the rest of the council sent word to Clan Heberdy inquiring about the chief’s daughter.
I thought ye should know immediately.” He gave a meaningful glance back at the stairwell.
“Considering the guest ye brought home this evening.”
Drummond had too much on his mind to waste any time and energy on clan politics. “Tell Glengarten if he wishes to remain a close advisor to the chief after my father dies, he best send word to Clan Heberdy that the inquiry was sent in error.”
“Ye know he’ll not do it. Not even with the threat of not remaining an advisor. If someone pricks yer father’s finger, Glengarten bleeds for him. That one there is loyal through and through, but only to the Old MacMuirrow.”
“Then I shall have Father speak with him.” Or at least he would try. Ill-natured as a wounded beast, his father rarely cooperated anymore.
Increasing his pace, Drummond turned down the hallway toward the kitchens and the rooms where the servants met to receive their duties for the day.
The household needed to understand that Mockingbird—nay…
his Evie—was the most important guest they would ever serve.
They would treat her with the utmost respect, or else.
“Ye are certain about this?” Murdoch asked as he struggled to keep pace with him. “About the woman?”
The doubt in his friend’s tone halted Drummond halfway down the passage. “Who told me I’d have no peace until I heeded the Fae’s message and did what they wished?”
Murdoch looked away, glancing up and down the corridor as if making certain no one eavesdropped upon them.
“That was afore I witnessed what took place today.” He slowly shook his head.
“The power of that storm above the hill. The way the grasses grew, then fell away to reveal the lass that had not been there before.” He locked eyes with Drummond.
“Dangerous forces stirred today. Could be evil in ways we dinna ken. Has me worried about yer soul.”
“Save the worrying about my soul for the priest.”
“The woman told ye herself that she does not belong here.”
“But she does.” Drummond felt it with every fiber of his being. “She simply does not know it yet.”
Murdoch gave him an incredulous look. “Ye canna claim to love her. Not yet.”
“I dinna claim to love her, but something is here.” Drummond thumped his chest with his fist. “A connection of sorts. A drawing toward her. Like a lodestone drawn to steel.” He caught hold of his friend’s shoulder and squeezed.
“I canna explain it, but when I look into her eyes, I recognize her as a woman I’ve known since the beginning of my soul’s existence. ”
“Bah!” Murdoch shoved him away. “Fated mates across lives are fodder for minstrels’ songs.”
Drummond used to think the same, but now?
He was not so sure. All he knew was that his precious Mockingbird, his mysterious Evie, was different.
She was not just some lost female meant to be returned to wherever she’d come from.
She’d been sent to him for a reason. “Do ye mean to support me in this, or not?”
Murdoch’s jaw dropped. He puffed out his chest and scraped his boots across the floor, like an angry bull about to charge. “Ye would question my loyalty?”
“I need yer loyalty now more than ever. Ye’re the only one who witnessed today.
The only one who knows where the lass came from.
” Drummond had trusted Murdoch with his life many times before, but this time was different.
More than one life hung in the balance. “I need yer help to protect her from those who might cause her harm.”
Hands fisted on his broad hips, Murdoch growled. “I canna believe ye would question my loyalty—or our friendship. Ye wound me, Drum. Cut me to the core.”
“Forgive me, old friend. The stakes are high this time. I had to be sure.”
The man growled again and rolled his eyes.
“Then ye best be speaking to yer sire with haste so he can tell Glengarten to send Clan Heberdy a few cows and wish their chief’s daughter a long life and the finding of a good husband from another clan.
” Still scowling, he nodded down the hallway, back toward the stairwell. “Shall I come with ye?”
“I’ve a better idea.” Drummond pointed Murdoch toward the kitchens.
“While I speak with the MacMuirrow, see that ye make every servant, from Mrs. Farris all the way down to the lowliest scullery maid, understand that Lady Evie Waterton is the most important guest they will ever serve. If they value their places here at Dubh Tower, they will serve her well, ye ken?”
Murdoch nodded. “I’ll put the fear into them.”
“Good man.” Drummond headed back down the hallway without a second thought. Murdoch would soon have the staff well in line and fully understanding the importance of Lady Evie’s happiness.
Now, Drummond simply needed to convince his stubborn father that Clan Heberdy would not be needed.
He hoped Angus MacMuirrow was in a receptive mood and inclined to agree.
Ever since the title of the first Earl of Blackmorrow had been bestowed on the son rather than the father, old MacMuirrow had become even more unreasonable than usual.
While Drummond understood that the Bruce’s passing over of his father had stung, his ill-natured sire should not have been surprised.
Chief Angus MacMuirrow and Robert the Bruce had never been on good terms. Chief MacMuirrow was not on good terms with anyone.
It was only Drummond’s political maneuvering and eventual friendship with the king that had saved Clan MacMuirrow from the Bruce’s wrath.
No sooner had he stepped inside the MacMuirrow’s suite, he spotted Colban Glengarten, pacing back and forth in front of the bedchamber door while squinting down at an open book in his hands.
If the sniveling little man didn’t watch what he was doing, he’d surely run into the wall or stumble and fall flat on his face.
Neither outcome would surprise Drummond.
He cleared his throat to get the advisor’s attention.
Glengarten jumped as if he’d been poked in the arse with the point of a blade. “M’lord! Forgive me. I nay heard ye enter.” He put a bony finger to his lips and hissed like an adder. “The MacMuirrow sleeps. I fear his night was anything but restful.”
“He’ll not get his rest until he joins Mother.
” Drummond crossed himself so all would know—saints, sinners, angels, and demons—that while he meant his father no ill will, he wouldn’t mind if the man became a mite easier to tolerate by getting on with his trip to the grave.
“Since we dinna wish to disturb him, ye can handle the matter that brought me to his rooms.”
Glengarten puffed up like a proud, slimy toad. “’Twould be my honor, m’lord. How can I be of help to ye?”
“I wish to send Clan Heberdy five of our finest cows and thank them for their time, but clarify that the first message was sent in error. I am not seeking an alliance by marriage. A strong alliance is welcome, but I will not be marrying to secure one.”
“Not be marrying to secure one?” the advisor repeated. “But—”
“Was my statement not clear?”
The thin man wrinkled his nose as if a powerful stench had just hit him.
“According to their runner, Clan Heberdy should arrive any day, m’lord.
The council invited them weeks ago. Right after ye refused Lady Aileas and Lady Beitris.
We canna turn them away now. Not when they’re nearly arrived.
’Tis a fortnight’s travel from their borders to here.
” He crept forward, twitching his sharply pointed nose like a rat in search of cheese.
“And if I might be so bold as to ask, pray tell, what did ye mean when ye said ye would not be marrying to secure an alliance?”
“Now is not the time to discuss such things. I prefer to concentrate on other matters.” Drummond had never trusted Glengarten and wasn’t about to start now.
Besides, the canny advisor would hear the news about Evie’s arrival soon enough.
News traveled fast through the castle. “Send word to me when my father awakens. Immediately, ye ken?”
“Aye, m’lord.” Glengarten stroked his grizzled chin, then offered a half-hearted bow. “Shall I also have Mrs. Farris set to planning a feast for Clan Heberdy upon their arrival?”
Drummond paused at the door, his hand on the latch. “A modest feast, advisor. Dinna attempt to send the wrong message, thinking ye’ll force my hand. Ye will regret it, if ye do.”
“Hmph.” Glengarten drew himself up, obviously insulted. “As ye wish, m’lord.”
*
“Answer me, Morganna!” Evie clenched her fists so tightly they shook. It was all she could do to keep from jumping on this woman and tearing into her like an angry wildcat. “Where am I? What year is this, really? And how the hell did I get here and why?”
Still backed against the wall, Morganna stood taller, as if resigning herself to her punishment.
“Ye are in the Highlands of fourteenth-century Scotland, the year 1326. Callum and I sent ye here through the sidhe hill so ye could meet yer fated mate.” She jerked with a defensive shrug.
“Who happens to be Drummond MacMuirrow, by the way, as I am certain ye have already sensed. At least—if ye will admit it.”
“Are you serious?” Evie backed up a step. That couldn’t be possible. It couldn’t be real.
Morganna arched a brow and shrugged again. “I am quite serious. Look around ye, lass. Can ye not see the proof with yer own eyes?”
“Don’t get sassy with me, or I’ll punch you in the nose just like I promised myself I would.”