Page 65 of The Chieftain
“He came to a meeting here at the house,” Flora said. “The MacLeods somehow found out he was here, and we all had to flee for our lives.”
Lachlan’s chest felt tight at the thought of his sister and her children in such danger. Flora proceeded to tell him how Connor had rescued Brigid, carried her to safety, and then diverted MacLeod warriors from where the family hid on the hillside. So this was where the attack had been the night before he first met Connor. In his mind’s eye, he saw the chieftain limping across the field to the castle.
Lachlan leaned his elbow on the table and covered his eyes. Christ above. The man he had tried to kill had saved them.
“The chieftain should have run with the others rather than risk being caught for our sakes,” Flora said. “He killed five MacLeod warriors who surely would have found us.”
“Have ye told Father this?” Lachlan asked, though he doubted even saving Flora and the children would absolve the chieftain’s family in his father’s accounting. At least their father had not burdened Flora with their blood debt of honor, if only because she was born female.
“No, I haven’t seen Father,” Flora said and tossed some herbs into the pot she was stirring. “Malcom doesn’t like me to go far from the house these days with the MacLeods and pirates about.”
“Malcom is right,” Lachlan said. “It would be better still if you and the children moved into the castle.”
“I won’t leave my home to the thieving MacLeods,” Flora said, putting her free hand on her ample hip. Ever the vigilant mother, she shifted her gaze from Lachlan and called out, “Leave your brother alone, or I’ll smack ye.”
Lachlan sighed, knowing there was no use in trying to persuade her to leave. It was this very MacDonald stubbornness that would drive the MacLeods off their lands in the end.
“I hope Father isn’t the reason you’ve put off marrying,” his sister said, demonstrating once again that she could yell at her children and cook without losing her train of thought.
Lachlan loved her to death, but he was grateful that his older sister had so many children to order about. When they were growing up, she’d only had him.
“Just look at ye with my wee Brigid,” Flora said, her eyes going all soft. “Ye need to find a lass who will be good to you and give ye bairns of your own.”
“With the MacLeods breathing down our necks, this is no time to think of taking a wife and starting a family,” Lachlan said, and wondered if the day would ever come when he could.
“Our new chieftain gives me great hope for our clan,” Flora said. “May God watch over him.”
How could Lachlan satisfy his father’s right to vengeance and also protect his clan? When he started this, he believed that one chieftain would serve as well as another. But since then, he had taken both Hugh’s and Connor’s measure. He had suggested his sister go to Trotternish Castle, knowing Connor would fight to the death to defend the castle and everyone in it. If Hugh Dubh held the castle, Lachlan would not want his sister anywhere near it.
He looked down at his curly-headed niece who had fallen asleep in his lap with her thumb in her mouth. Hugh would never risk his life for wee Brigid.
In the end, that made all the difference to Lachlan. He would give up his father’s battle over the past. From this moment forward, he would fight only for his clan’s future, and he would do it at Connor’s side.
CHAPTER 25
Connor waited for Ilysa to come to supper, letting the food grow cold before he took up his eating knife to signal the start of the meal. Though his appetite had left him, he forced himself to eat. Nor did he permit himself to glance at her empty chair again, though he was aware of it every moment.
He maintained a pretense of calm and spoke with his men throughout the meal and afterward as well. When he could leave the hall without his departure seeming abrupt, he went up to his chamber.
“Unless we have guests, I will no longer require guards outside my door,” he told the two warriors waiting there. “Tell the others.”
Having guards outside his chamber was a symbol of chieftainship that now seemed far less important than his privacy. His sword and the bar on his door was all the protection he needed.
He sat in his chair, drumming his fingers and staring at the glowing logs of peat on the brazier. As he waited for the night to come, he tried to plan his strategy for the battle with the MacLeods, but his mind kept returning to Ilysa.
Again and again, he went over what happened in this chamber a few hours earlier. The signs of her innocence had been there, but he had wanted her so badly that he had seen what he wanted to see. She had been willing, but willing to do what? She had done little more than kiss him back, and he had reacted by tossing her skirts up and ravishing her.
Lust had made him deaf, dumb, and blind. For the first time, he understood how his father could disregard the consequences and let himself be ruled by lust. But his father believed he had a right to indulge in his desire, no matter how selfish, and he never felt guilty for it.
Connor was awash in guilt.
Time and again, he saw the swath of blood against the whiteness of Ilysa’s slender thigh. Then he recalled how her legs wobbled as he rushed her out the door. Though he had been trying to protect her, that was no way to leave her. He could not make things right. Still, he needed to talk to her and see how she fared.
Finally, the household was asleep, and he could go to her chamber without the entire castle knowing it. A short time later, he rapped his knuckles lightly on her door.
“Who is it?” Ilysa’s voice came through the door.
“Connor.” He wondered if his name would gain him entry. After a pause, he heard the bar slide back.
