Page 26 of The Eagle

“My father is ill. I prefer to remain close by.” Artair brought his mount alongside his as they headed out of the keep.

“I wasn’t aware Uncle Angus was unwell. Why has no one told us?”

Artair shook his head. “We did not think it was serious. But it seems to linger. The healer is seeing to him.”

They rode for a while in silence until reaching the cottage where Cait’s mother and brother lived. Both came out as soon as he rode up.

“Did something happen to Cait?” Her mother looked up at him, her face pale and filled with worry. “Why is she not with ye?”

Stuart explained about Cait cutting her hand—leaving out his part in the incident—and after giving them a basket Greer had prepared and reassuring the woman her daughter was well, he and Artair continued on their way.

“Ye seem to know them and the daughter well,” his cousin said. “Is there something between ye and the lass?”

Stuart watched a hawk fly overhead. Its wings spread with the concise fluidity of a predator that spotted its prey. The bird let out a piercing warning call, as if to warn of its plan before diving behind the trees.

“I do not wish for any romantic entanglements at the moment. However, Lennox Maclean seems determined to follow through with his late father’s wishes. They hated each other, so it came as quite a surprise when he sent a message stating that his sister Lila is to come for a visit.”

Artair blew out a breath. “And ye are the one who’s been chosen as suitor?”

“Aye.”

“I do not blame ye for not wishing to be involved. I will never marry. I do not agree with the idea of it. Especially not an arranged one.”

Stuart let the comment go. Ever since they were children, Artair made statements with a certainty that no one questioned. Even if he didn’t follow through, he always maintained a sort of formality about him. It was what kept Stuart and his brothers from pointing out when Artair did not see something through.

They’d barely ridden out of the forest when men on horseback burst from the trees; their swords lifted. Both he and Artair drew theirs just in time to defend against the attackers.

He had no time to try to identify who they were as they battled against the group of men. Despite the four guardsmen rushing forward to assist, they were still outnumbered.

His and Artair’s horses circled as trained while they swung their swords. The sounds of metal against metal echoing through the trees.

Stuart fought against two men, who seemed intent on separating him from the others. Tiring, he fought to lift the heavy sword and lean into his swings. The men kept their distance, not coming close enough for him to reach past their sword.

A swoosh sounded as one of the men struck his hand and his sword flew from it. Unarmed, Stuart jumped down from his horse and dashed to the protection of the forest. Just before he reached the trees, a hard blow to the back of his head sent him sprawling to the ground.

Then everything went black.

Chapter Seven

The first thing Stuart wanted to do was retch upon waking. His stomach heaved and he gagged. The swaying under him meant he traveled on water. He attempted to sit up but being bound made it impossible.

“I am about to be sick,” he told the closest man, who stood and grabbed him by the back of his tunic and roughly dragged him to the side of the bìrlinn.

The combination of nausea and his hatred of being at sea made him furious. He threw up until he was sure his next heave would send out his stomach. The continued movement of the boat made him want to jump into the water and drown himself.

“For a man who lives on the isles, I am shocked that ye are not a seafarer,” the man said.

He recognized the voice. It was Ethan, one of the Uisdein’s sons.

“What in the devil do ye want with me?” he snapped. “Did the lesson after imprisoning Darach not teach yer father anything?”

“Father wishes to see ye. I am bringing ye to finish what ye started.”

The blood in his veins turned cold. “What exactly do ye mean?”

“Ye and my sister are betrothed. Ye must marry her.”

Falling back, Stuart began to laugh. In turn, heaving and laughing until he felt delirious.