Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Anna could hardly believe Lachann had agreed to her request. For once in her life, she did not feel entirely powerless. And the lessons he taught her would serve her well when she and Ky left Kilgorra. ’Twas only a matter of time—and a certain amount of badgering—before she convinced Kyla to leave.
Aye, leaving the island would be difficult, for this was the only home she knew, and she felt a deep kinship with many of Kilgorra’s families. But staying and dealing with Catrìona—and her husband—every day for the rest of her life was unthinkable.
Several of Lachann’s men came down to the pier to meet the Saoibhreas when its men came ashore. Anna started to slip away, but Lachann took hold of her hand and kept her by his side. “What do you know of this ship?”
“Only that it’s a trader that hails from Inverness.” His hand was hard and warm, and swallowed hers with its size. Anna was surprised and flattered that he would seek information from her in front of his men. “They pay good coin for our whiskey and sell it all along the northern coast.”
Lachann drew her away to the narrow copse of trees where the path to the castle met the edge of the pier. “We can begin your training in the morn. Early.”
“Where?”
“What about the cottage where you hid Kyla Ramsay?”
Anna nodded. “I’ll be there.”
She started up the path to the castle and was surprised when he continued beside her.
“So, you do not fear the terrible boggle when you visit your isle.”
Anna was not sure whether he was mocking her. She cast a sidelong glance in his direction, but his expression betrayed naught. “N-no. I’m accustomed to it.”
“I understand you protect Kilgorra from the wrath of the sluagh dubh.”
“Well, I don’t know if it’s—”
“What would it do,” he asked, “if you did not placate it with your visits?”
“I b-believe it has caused madness,” she said hesitantly. She did not enjoy lying to Lachann, but she could not very well tell him the truth. The secret was hers and Kyla’s.
“So all of Kilgorra would go mad if you did not ...” He stopped them from continuing up the path with one of his hands on her arm. She did not understand how it could be so incredibly strong while ’twas so very gentle. “How, exactly do you appease it? What does it want?”
Anna cleared her throat. “It seems only to want ... t-to want ...”
“Aye?”
“Well, just the o-occasional visit. From me. And sometimes Kyla, of course.”
“I see,” he said.
“Don’t you want to join your men on the pier?” she asked, anxious to get out from under his scrutiny. And his mighty hand on her arm. “The Saoibhreas sailors are starting to disembark.”
“My men are more than capable of handling the Saoibhreas.”
“Uh, well, I-I would love to stay and talk—”
“You were very kind to Davy’s mother,” Lachann said.
“Kind?”
“You love this isle and all its people, don’t you?”
“Love Kilgorra?” She stopped and looked up at him, into his eyes that saw much, but mayhap not quite enough. “I would leave this isle today if I could get Kyla to leave with me.”
He looked at her oddly. “Where would you go?”
She shrugged. To the Norse country, maybe—but she did not know where her kin were, and she didn’t know enough of the language to make a go of it there. “Somewhere in Scotland, I suppose. On the mainland.”
“What would you do there?”
“I would manage my own life there, under no one’s thumb.”
Lachann stopped and watched Anna run up the path ahead of him. She was right, he really should join his men at the Saoibhreas and meet its captain. He intended to know every trading vessel that came into the harbor, and this would be a good start.
But he had not wanted their conversation to end.
Once again, she’d managed to ease the tension between his shoulders, a knot that had grown and tightened from the moment he’d seen the children playing near the dangerous wagon. She was better than a good rubdown after a strenuous training session.
Ach, he should not allow thoughts of a rubdown to mingle with his thoughts of Anna, for the two together were like tinder to flame. He could so easily imagine her able hands on his body, kneading, caressing, pleasuring....
Gesu,he was a fool.
’Twas late when he finished his duties on the pier, and when he returned to the castle, he went up in search of Catrìona. But she was not to be found.
Her absence would not have bothered Lachann unduly, for his enthusiasm for the woman had not improved since their first meeting. In fact, he felt some distaste for her now, after her behavior with the blacksmith earlier.
But Macauley was missing as well. Which might have been an innocent coincidence. Lachann, however, was not one to believe in coincidences. Like Macauley’s presence on the isle.
But he was not to be deterred. Kilgorra suited him well, and once his defenses were in place, the isle itself would be secure from attack. ’Twas the first time he’d thought of Kilgorra’s well-being before that of Braemore, and Lachann realized the isle had become as important to him as his own homeland.
While there was still some light, he climbed up to walk the perimeter of the castle walls. He checked the parapets and battlements, and considered locations for his cannons. It also gave him a good overview of the surrounding lands, the beach where he’d explored earlier, and the castle grounds inside.
The keep, where Catrìona and her father lived, was massive, and Lachann assumed much of it was unused. It lay at the southwestern corner of the castle, and his own window overlooked the sea.
He looked left and saw the armory, the smithy, and the barracks, and then an overgrown area of the castle with trees and brush that hid whatever lay there. Anna’s cottage, for one thing.
He never should have agreed to teach her to defend herself. But damn all if he wasn’t looking forward to the lesson.
Anna passed through the castle gates and went directly to the kitchen.
“Ah, Anna—yer back!” Flora said.
“Aye. Have you seen Angus?” She was not going to think about that conversation with Lachann. She could not tell whether he’d been teasing her about the sluagh dubh or if he’d been genuinely curious.
And then there was that blurting of her desire to leave Kilgorra. Well, mayhap that was best. If Lachann and Catrìona did not wed, he would leave the island. And now he knew she wanted to leave, too. Kyla’s prediction that he would take her away might well come true.
“Angus? He’s playing in the close with Robbie,” Flora said.
“Climbing the Bruce Tree, no doubt, and right after Davy’s broken his leg,” Anna said. They’d been told so often to stay out of that tree. “I’m going to send him down to Meg MacDonall until her husband comes in on his boat.”
“Aye, she’ll need the extra help,” Flora responded. “ ’Tis a miracle the Braemore lad was able to move that cart off Davy’s leg.”
“Aye. While Mungo Ramsay stood and watched,” Anna said.
“What? Mungo was there but did not help?”
Anna shook her head. “I do not understand that man. Never have. Even when I was a small lass he favored Catrìona—”
“Ach, that one!” Flora said with an expression of acute distaste. “Well, ye’re best to stay clear of him, I can guarantee ye that.” Aye, Anna knew it. ’Twas why she always avoided the smith’s shop. There was no telling what strange thoughts went through the man’s mind. And the control Catrìona seemed to have over him—’twas just wrong. “I’m going to Gudrun’s cottage to clear it out.”
“Then off with ye,” Flora said. “There’s naught fer ye to do here.”
Anna stopped in the close and found Angus sitting at the base of the Bruce Tree, thank heavens. She sent him down to the MacDonall house, then walked through the garden to Gudrun’s cottage. Once inside, she lit a few candles and got a fire started to take the chill out of the air.
Then she turned to look at the room where she’d spent so many peaceful hours with Gudrun. A wave of nostalgia came over her, thinking about the old Norse maid. No doubt some of Gudrun’s belongings were in the boxes and crates that were stacked there.
Anna began to wonder what else was stored inside the boxes she had shoved aside to make room for Kyla’s bed. She had to stand on a wobbly chair to lift the highest one down, then she found an old metal hook to pry off the top.
Inside were several moth-eaten gowns, small enough to be meant for a child. There was one wee pair of leather shoes with miniature buckles, as well as an arisaid made from MacDuffie’s plaid.
She sat back on her heels as the blood drained from her head. These were her clothes! She remembered the shoes very well—as well as the fact that they’d been taken from her soon after her mother’s death. By Catrìona.
What else was there?
Folded neatly was a flag of red with a blue cross and what appeared to be a coat of arms in one corner.
Beneath that was a beautiful, golden silk tonnag. Carefully, she lifted the tonnag from the box, realizing that her mother must have worn the delicate shawl on special occasions. Mayhap it had been draped over her head and shoulders during her wedding to Anna’s father. Surely Sigrid had worn it when she’d married Catrìona’s father.
Anna took out the finely woven gown of dark blue that lay beneath the tonnag, and she felt a pang of grief so sharp it seemed to cut right through her heart. It had been so long since Sigrid’s death, and yet Anna could see her mother in this gown. She could remember every detail of Sigrid’s face, the sparkle of her eyes, the warmth of her smile.
Anna’s life would have been so different if her mother had lived. And Catrìona’s, too. Mayhap Sigrid’s influence would have softened Catrìona’s cruel edges. Mayhap the care of a wee brother would have assuaged her anger over her father’s new family.
Anna cradled her mother’s clothes to her breast for a moment, then packed them away again. She had no time for ruminating on the past. She was about to learn to defend herself, and that was all that mattered.
She fastened the top of the crate and began to clear a space where Lachann could teach her what she wanted—needed—to learn.
Lachann noticed right away that Anna was not serving their evening meal. He’d thought about going down to the village for a hearty supper with his men in the local tavern, but he’d hoped to see her in the great hall. Now that he knew she was not here, he wished he hadn’t been, either.
These were not the best thoughts to have when he was preparing to take a wife. He had a responsibility to do all in his power to win Catrìona as a willing bride, so he and his two cousins supped with her in the great hall, along with her father and Macauley. The MacMillans all watched in awe as the laird drank copiously from his bottle of Kilgorra whiskey.
Lachann grew tired of listening to the old man’s drunken blather and decided to speak of his strategy for defending Kilgorra. “We are going to mount two cannons on the castle walls, Laird.”
“Cannons?” MacDuffie’s brows came together. “On my walls?”
“Aye, and one near the harbor.”
MacDuffie muttered something unintelligible as he took another swallow from his glass. The old man glanced down the table. “What d’you think of the idea, Macauley?”
“Ever the warmongering MacMillans,” Macauley said with a sneer. “Cannons will only give rise to rumors of wealth we need to defend. And possibly—”
“Has no one told you the isle was attacked just last summer?” Kieran interjected, while Lachann tamped down his temper. The MacMillans had never begun a feud or attacked a neighbor. Any warring they engaged in was purely in defense of their lands.
“Kilgorra was attacked?” Macauley scoffed. “By whom?”
“You’re not especially well informed, Macauley,” Kieran said. “Some pirating clan from the outer isles attacked Kilgorra last summer.”
Macauley looked first to MacDuffie, then to Catrìona. “No one spoke of this to me.”
Lachann felt a small satisfaction in that.
“ ’Tis only by luck that they have not returned to steal more Kilgorra whiskey,” Duncan said.
“Or murder more islanders. Kilgorra will not be unprepared next time pirates come raiding,” Lachann said with finality. “The cannons go into place tomorrow. I’ve already got patrols near the harbor and men stationed at watch points on the high grounds.”
He felt Catrìona’s measuring gaze upon him and knew he should take it as a positive sign. But he had far more interest in organizing the Kilgorran men into effective troops that were capable of defending the isle than wooing the woman who was to become his wife.
And meeting Anna in the morn to show her how to use a knife.
Lachann focused his thoughts. He had much to accomplish on Kilgorra, and in a short time. A serving lass could not help him in the least. On the contrary, she could become a hindrance.
On the morrow he would teach her to wield a dirk, and that would be an end to it. ’Twas time for him to court Catrìona in earnest, marry her, and take the reins of lairdship from her father.
Lachann liked Kilgorra. In only a few days’ time, it had become more than just a strategic location for posting armed warriors to protect Braemore. He was coming to know and respect the people of the isle, and the island was beginning to feel like home.
MacPherson’s affable introductions proved invaluable. The Kilgorrans all agreed the laird had allowed the island’s defenses to weaken until they were barely existent. They’d prepared themselves to some extent against another raid, but their weaponry was outdated, and swords would be of limited use against a well-practiced enemy. To that end, Lachann recruited islanders to train with his men, while Duncan and Kieran organized those who came to the castle courtyard to volunteer.
The men—fishermen and farmers alike—began their training at the castle that morning. And while the men who’d come from Braemore were responsible for the training, Lachann chose two Kilgorran leaders to assist them: Boyd MacPherson and his cousin, a fisherman named Donald MacRae. Both men had the respect and loyalty of every Kilgorran, far more than they showed their own laird, whom they saw as a failing old man.
Everything was falling into place. Almost.
When supper ended, Lachann asked Catrìona to walk out to the gardens with him. She agreed, and he escorted her from the keep by way of a passageway just outside the great hall. ’Twas time to overcome his indifference and woo her in earnest, for he suspected Macauley would not wait much longer to make her his own.
Unless he had already done so.
It made her somewhat less appealing, but Lachann would do what he needed to do to secure the lairdship. Lachann would take her to wife, but there was naught about her that would ever put his heart at risk. She was not the kind to do that.
As far as Lachann could tell, she’d been indifferent to Davy MacDonall’s injury, which had taken place in her own realm—the castle. She was callous and demanding with the servants, and she possessed not a shred of...
Lachann sighed, shrugging off his concerns. He would have a few words with Catrìona after they were wed, and she would gain an understanding of what was expected of a laird’s wife. Of his wife. Certainly ’twas not to stand at the smithy shop and question that dolt of a blacksmith while a child lay injured in her courtyard.
’Twas Anna, not Catrìona, who had brought food from the castle for the MacDonalls. Anna who had gone to the village to give comfort to the injured lad’s mother.
Lachann hoped ’twould be merely a matter of instructing Catrìona on her duties as lady of the isle. She’d had no mother to show her, and only a drunkard of a father to support her.
She took Lachann’s arm as they walked. He guessed she was not much younger than his own thirty years, old enough to have married and borne a few bairns. Old enough to have become set in her ways.
But she could be taught.
“The blue of your gown is quite fetching, Catrìona,” he said, though as soon as he’d seen it, the color had brought to mind the pale color of Anna’s eyes.
Catrìona looked up at him with an expression that was more than slightly unsettling, though he was unsure why it struck him so. If she’d been a man, he’d have been wary of her drawing a weapon. “Thank you, Lachann,” she said.
They strolled on and Lachann swallowed his misgivings. “Have you ever traveled away from Kilgorra?”
She shook her head. “No, never.”
“Never visited relatives on the mainland?”
“We have no relations ashore,” she said. “I’ve never before had reason to leave.”
Lachann felt fortunate to have had grandparents and numerous cousins at Braemore, for he’d been hardly more than a bairn when his parents had met their deaths at Glencoe. Soldiers had murdered his father and eldest brother in cold blood, and Lachann’s mother had died of exposure in trying to get the rest of the family to safety.’Twas Dugan, a mere lad at the time, who’d managed to get his younger siblings away in the midst of that hell.
They’d been taken to Braemore and become MacMillans, welcomed by the clan that had been his mother’s. When he’d come up with his plan to protect Braemore by sea, he’d been thinking only of his own clan. Now he knew that Kilgorra needed him, too.
Dusk came upon Lachann and Catrìona as they continued on a path past the lush beds of flowers at the far side of the courtyard, the path where he’d encountered Anna that first evening on Kilgorra.
Where he’d wanted naught but to kiss her.
Lachann felt no such urge with Catrìona, even though the moment was conducive to a romantic interlude. Catrìona clung to his arm and pressed her body against him as they walked. The heavy perfume of the flowers surrounded them.
“I understand you have a great number of relations at Braemore,” Catrìona said. “And now your brother is laird of the MacMillans.”
“Aye. He became laird when our grandfather passed away a few years back.”
“ ’Tis a grave responsibility.”
“Aye.” One that her father had not taken seriously for a good many years, it seemed.
“Shall we walk to the chapel?” Catrìona asked. “ ’Tis much quieter there.”
“Quieter?”
She looked up at him with a lazy smile. “No one will disturb us out there.”
Lachann swallowed. He needed to go, just to seal the betrothal agreement. He wanted her father’s lands, she wanted a husband. Either him or Cullen Macauley.
“Aye. Lead the way.”
Catrìona took a tighter hold of his arm and drew him away from the garden and onto an overgrown path toward the southern wall. In the gloaming, he could make out the silhouette of a tall stone steeple, but it appeared to be in ruins. The castle wall extended some distance past the chapel grounds, and Lachann was able to make out a metal gate breaking the solid line of the wall.
“What’s out there?”
“Naught. A cliff,” Catrìona said.
“The chapel is no longer used?” he asked.
“No,” she replied offhandedly. “There is a kirk in the village.”
She gave a furtive glance ’round the area, and Lachann allowed her to pull him to a thick elm tree. She circled ’round him, and with the gleam in her dark eyes that had bothered him only a few minutes ago, maneuvered him back against the tree and stood close to him. Very close.
For the moment, Lachann believed it prudent to allow her to think she was in charge.
“This is what you wanted, is it not?” she asked sweetly. “To be alone together?”
She reached up and unfastened the MacMillan brooch that held his plaid in place at his shoulder.
Aye, that was exactly what he should have wanted, though as he stood with his back to the tree, he felt naught but an uneasy tension. After all her flirting with Cullen Macauley, this seemed slightly ... arbitrary.
Not that that made any difference in the long run. Mayhap she was just weighing her options. Lachann believed he ought to be pleased that she was willing to test the waters with him. He certainly had no intentions of marrying for love, but he did not want a wife who recoiled when he kissed her. Or bedded her.
“What do you desire, Lachann MacMillan?” she asked in a hushed voice. “Tell me.”