Page 27 of Only a Highlander Will Do

They’d accomplished what they’d set out to do. That was the last time he would gamble with her life. His sister and Gwendolyn seemed happy enough remaining inside the protective walls of Dunvegan. Perhaps in time Fiona would learn to appreciate his home as much as she loved her own.

When the air around them filled with the tang of salt, Tormod looked into the distance. Dunvegan shone like a golden beacon, sitting on the edge of a bluff, standing tall and proud in the late afternoon sun. He allowed himself a satisfied smile as he turned to Fiona. “You’ll be off your horse in no time.”

When her gaze connected with his, his smile slipped. Her face was still so pale, and there were fine blue lines visible beneath the smooth porcelain of her skin. Despite relaxing her death grip on the saddle, she looked almost terrified.

“We are safe. I promise you. The MacDonalds would never attack us so close to the remainder of our army.”

“It will be nice to use my own legs again,” she admitted. “I did not realise how tiring this journey would be.”

He wanted more than anything to see her smile. “As soon as we arrive, I will have someone draw a bath for you. That should help ease the soreness in your muscles. Does that sound pleasing?”

She nodded, but instead of smiling, she stared off into the distance once more.

He knew she had enjoyed some parts of their journey. On the way to the Fairy Pools he’d watched her. He’d seen her eyes widening and her lips part in wonder at the scenery they’d passed. It wasn’t until after their conflict with Alex MacDonald that she’d been distant. Perhaps after she had a bath she would be relaxed enough to tell him what her father had whispered in her ear. Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been anything good, not by her reaction.

By the time they reached the castle, the drawbridge had been lowered and the portcullis raised. Alastair and Gwendolyn were there, in the front courtyard, welcoming them home.

Tormod dismounted, then came immediately to Fiona’s side, lifting her out of the saddle and setting her on the ground. He kept his hand at her waist until he was certain she could stand on her own.

“How was the journey?” Alastair asked, coming forward with Gwendolyn.

“We met with some trouble on the road.”

Alastair’s eyes filled with concern. “Was anyone hurt?”

“Nay. Alex MacDonald backed down when he saw how many warriors we travelled with. But it seemed as though Alex knew exactly where we were headed even before we reached our destination,” Tormod said grimly. “Alex intimated that he has a spy in our midst once more.”

“Impossible,” Alastair replied with a low growl.

“That’s what I would have thought, but after the previous events that endangered Gwendolyn’s life, I’m not so certain.” Tormod’s gaze narrowed on his brother. “The last time the MacDonalds succeeded in planting a spy by threatening a man’s family. They could easily do so again.”

“You’re right,” Alastair admitted, looking at this wife. He took Gwendolyn’s hand. “I haven’t been back at Dunvegan long enough to make certain this fortress is secure from the inside. I’ve been so focused on trying to stop the clans from rising up against each other that I’ve let that task be less important, but no more. I’ll ask Orrick to help me interview each and every person who lives here, starting this afternoon. If there is a weakness in our defences, we’ll find it.”

“What would you have Graeme and me do?” Tormod asked.

“The two of you should make certain the castle walls and the sea gate are absolutely secure. We don’t want anyone going out or coming in except through the front gates.”

Fiona swayed on her feet. She looked limp, shaken, and ready to faint. Tormod rushed to her side, catching her before she hit the ground.

“Oh, good heavens. Is she ill?” Gwendolyn asked, coming to Fiona’s aid as well. Gwendolyn pressed the back of her hand to Fiona’s forehead. “Thank goodness she doesn’t have a fever. She must simply be exhausted.”

“Let me take you inside where you can rest,” Tormod said, concerned even more so at her paleness.

At Fiona’s nod, Tormod swept his wife up into his arms. When she nestled her head against his chest, his heart gave a peculiar thud against his breastbone. “Gwendolyn, would you see that a bath is drawn for her if I carry her upstairs into her chamber?”

“Of course. I can manage a bath and bringing some colour back to her cheeks while you men make sure we all remain safe.”

Tormod let Gwendolyn’s words echo in his mind as he carried Fiona inside the castle and up the stairs to her bedchamber. Was there any such thing as being safe, even within the walls of a mighty fortress? The MacDonalds were determined to deal the MacLeods a fatal blow. And so far it seemed that nothing was too big an obstacle to get in their way.

At the doorway of the drawing room, Tormod paused, taking a moment to glance at the Fairy Flag hanging between the seaward-facing windows. Gwendolyn had managed to steal the flag back from the MacDonalds and had returned it to its original location in this chamber. A guard stood nearby, ensuring the magical silk flag would never be stolen again.

Fiona lifted her head, gazing at the pride of the MacLeods. “Is that the Fairy Flag?”

“Aye. Am Bratach Sith.” Tormod stared at the faded yellow silk with embroidered red elf dots and crosses upon it. “Our family’s lore claims when it is unfurled and waved three times it will bring the fairy legions to the flag bearer’s aid.”

“You could use the flag again if the MacDonalds attack.”

Tormod shook his head. “Alastair doesn’t want to be known as the laird who used the last of the fairy magic. He would rather fight to the death before he would use the magic to save himself.”