Highland Courage(71)

He needed to find Laird MacIan immediately. He left his chamber, intent on doing just that, when he was struck from behind. His head exploded in blinding pain before everything went black.

~ * ~

Although only yesterday Katherine MacIan had effectively prevented Tadhg from insisting Mairead rest during the day, he vowed to make sure she retired at a reasonable hour. Pulling her away from her sisters had been a challenge.

“Oh, Tadhg, it’s early still. Surely ye aren’t ready to retire.”

“Sweetling, we haven't celebrated yet.”

“We are celebrating now.”

“But we haven't celebrated the old ways yet.”

Mairead laughed. “What are ye talking about?”

“Ah, lass, back in the age of the old religion, before we were all faithful Christians, it wasn’t the Holy Cross that was celebrated at the beginning of May.”

“Ye want to go out to the bonfires?” she asked incredulously.

He whispered, “Nay, sweetling, the ancients celebrated Beltane with more than fires. It was a celebration of new life—fertility. There is only one way I know of to celebrate fertility, and we can’t do that here or by the bonfires.” As he expected, she blushed hotly, but she said goodnight to her family and together they escaped to their bedchamber.”

He watched her now as she slept. He adored her. He could not imagine a more loving, passionate, woman. She was his perfect mate. He stroked his hand lightly over her belly, awed by the fact that she carried their child beneath its silky smoothness.

A sharp rap on the door interrupted his musing. He slipped out of bed, covered her, and hastily wrapped a plaid around his waist before cautiously opening the door to find Hamish looking grave.

“Laird, ye must come down to the hall.”

Tadhg stepped into the corridor, pulling the door closed behind him so as not to disturb Mairead. “What has happened?”

“I’m not exactly sure. Lady Mairead’s brother Rowan was found unconscious in the corridor outside his chamber, face down in a pool of his own blood. Someone damn near split his skull open. It’s bad. Lady Katherine is sewing him up, but he has not regained consciousness.”

“Who would’ve attacked Rowan and, for God’s sake, why?”

“I don’t know. Laird MacIan is trying to keep tempers under control until we know more, but Cathal MacKenzie is demanding answers and between his sons, sons-in-law, and other allies by marriage, not to mention all of their retainers, he has nearly as many men encamped here as MacIan has in his full garrison.”

“Hamish, have ye forgotten? I am one of MacKenzie’s sons-in-law.”

“Nay, Laird, I’ve not forgotten that, but ye are his only ally within the keep who has a solid relationship with MacIan, too.”

“Gannon trained here under Niall’s father.”

“But Gannon is outside the walls. When Rowan was discovered, Laird MacIan thought it best to close Duncurra. No one leaves or enters until this is sorted out.”

“Which of my men are within the walls?”

“Cael, Bryant, Garvey, and Sloan, they were still among the merry-makers in the courtyard.”

“Bring Cael and Garvey here to guard Mairead, then I’ll go with ye to the hall and do what I can to calm tempers.”

“I can’t do that, Laird. At the moment Laird MacIan won’t allow anyone to enter or leave the keep. Those who were outside must remain there. Seeing as it was mostly the visiting lairds and Niall’s own people within the keep at the time, it was probably prudent.”

“Damnation. Ye’re right, but that leaves me in a bad position. Ye will have to stay here to guard Mairead. Give me a minute to dress.” Tadhg dressed as quickly as possible without disturbing his sleeping wife. On leaving the chamber, he said, “Do not let anyone enter. I will try to come back as soon as possible, but if Mairead wakes, avoid telling her too much and send someone for me. Do not leave her alone under any circumstances.”

“Aye, Laird.”

When Tadhg reached the great hall, Lachlan Fraser was mid-rant. “How could something like this happen, MacIan? My poor Eara, losing her bridegroom the day before they were to be wed.” A quick glance revealed Eara standing near the hearth looking ashen. Oddly Lachlan’s daughter Sine seemed even more distressed. With puffy eyes, a red nose and blotches on her face, she appeared to have been weeping.

“He’s not dead, Lachlan!” roared Cathal.

“Well, ye may as well face it, by the look of him, he’s not long for this world.”

“Maybe if he was a Fraser that would be the case, but, by God, he’s a MacKenzie!”