Page 97 of The Chieftain
“I can’t take more bad news, so this better be good,” Connor said and tossed back another whiskey.
“I wouldn’t call it bad news, but your uncle Archibald is dead.”
“Dead?” Connor straightened. “I saw him not long ago. What happened?”
“He let Hugh Dubh into his home is what happened.” Alex paused to take a drink. “Hugh murdered Archibaldwhile he was a guest in his brother’s home.”
Hugh was not only guilty of a cowardly act and murdering his last brother, but he had violated the ancient and sacrosanct Highland code of hospitality between host and guest, which was almost worse.
“The story is that, after enjoying a fine meal at Archibald’s table, Hugh called his brother to the window to look at his new galley—then stuck his dirk in Archibald’s back.”
After a long silence, Connor said, “I was invited to join them.”
“Ye were wise not to go,” Alex said and lifted his cup to Connor.
“I would have gone,” Connor said, feeling the weight of his errors and misjudgments like a boulder on his back, “except that Ilysa locked me in my own dungeon to prevent me.”
Alex threw his head back and laughed. There was nothing for it then but to tell him the full tale, which caused his cousin to laugh so hard that tears rolled down his face.
“I always knew that lass had more spark than she let on,” Alex said, slapping the table. “I can’t wait to tell Ian and Duncan.”
Connor would never hear the end of it from the three of them, though he could count on them never to undermine his authority by speaking of it to anyone else.
“Ilysa is as stubborn as her brother. She just hides it behind a sweet manner,” Alex said. “That must have been why ye sent her packing to Dunscaith, aye? I’d say ye owe her an apology.”
Connor’s stomach dropped. Alex had no idea how wrong he was.
“A large gift is in order, for she saved your sorry arse,” Alex said. “What would ye say your life is worth? A fine horse? A bag of gold?”
Ilysa had saved him. Did this mean he was wrong about the rest? But he had seen her meeting with the MacLeod. There was no mistaking that. He could think of no reason for their meeting except treachery, but he should have heard her out. He owed her that.
He was anxious to go talk to her. Yet he had such a weakness for Ilysa that he decided to tell Alex about her meeting with the MacLeod and hear his thoughts first. Connor took a gulp of his whiskey. He dreaded telling him what Ilysa had done, knowing how fond Alex was of her.
“Alex, there is something I must tell ye.” He paused. “’Tis about Ilysa.”
“For God’s sake, Connor,” Alex said, springing to his feet. “You’re fooking Duncan’s baby sister, aren’t ye? I knew it!”
This was not what he had intended to disclose to Alex, but his cousin was exceptionally perceptive about such things.
“Ye can stop worrying about Hugh and the MacLeods,” Alex said, gesturing with his hands as he paced the room. “Duncan will kill ye first.”
***
Ilysa must have fallen asleep, for she was dreaming of Connor when a knock on the door awoke her. Her first thought was that it was him, and she scrambled out of bed and opened the door without bothering to wrap a plaid about her.
In the glow of the torchlight from the stairwell, she saw that it was Lachlan. Disappointment weighed down on her chest. It was a long moment before she realized Lachlan was staring holes into her and still longer before she remembered she was in just her nightshift. When she swung the door closed, Lachlan stuck his foot in it. He looked past her, taking in the open chest and the clothes laid out.
“What do ye want?” she asked, leaning out from behind the door.
“My sister’s youngest is gravely ill,” he said. “She sent my nephew to fetch you. He’s waiting in the boat. Will ye come?”
“Of course,” she said. “I’ll just be a moment.”
She did not even know Lachlan had a sister, yet there was no mistaking the worry in his voice. After closing the door, she quickly donned her gown and heavy cloak, then gathered the herbs she thought she might need into her basket.
CHAPTER 39
Let me do the talking,” Lachlan told Ilysa as they approached the gate. Fortunately, the guards were Trotternish men who knew him well and were accustomed to his comings and goings in the night.
