Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

O ne of the council ran out of the solar. Mariota ran in, took in the situation with a glance and knelt by her father's side on the floor behind his desk. His hand lay clenched like a claw over his heart.

"Da! What happened. What can I do?"

He looked up at her with apology in his eyes, then terror.

Mariota clutched his hand with one of hers and with the other, stroked his face. "'Twill be all right, Da. Just relax. The healer is coming." What was happening? Why did he suddenly look ashen and sweaty? "Da?"

His eyes closed and he shuddered. Beneath her hand, she felt his heart stutter.

"Nay, Da! What are ye doing? Ye canna leave."

She thought he heard her. He took a breath, lifting her hand along with his. Only then did she notice how cold his had become.

He seized, arching onto the back of his head and his heels like a bowstring pulled back too hard, and collapsed.

The councilors all stood in an arc at the side of the desk in silence for a moment, then one began praying and in a moment, others joined in.

The healer arrived in a rush, knelt on her father's other side, and made her assessment without hesitation. "Laird Mariota, I am so sorry. Yer father is dead." She glanced up at the councilors. "The auld laird is dead." She looked back to Mariota, sympathy in her gaze. "I will call for the priest, my Laird."

Mariota had the presence of mind to realize the healer was calling her Laird in front of the council intentionally. She felt a swell of gratitude fill her chest, but the council members looked less than pleased. Two were still praying and she heard them calling for intervention for the MacKay clan, but James and others grimaced at the scene she, her father's body, and the healer set.

"What happened to him?"

"He's been ill for a long time. Worse lately, since the boar gored him. He kenned this could happen, but he didna want ye to fash ."

Heartbroken at the suddenness of her father's passing, scared and, yes, angry that he'd left her to succeed him with little preparation, she met the healer's gaze and nodded. "Thank ye, Healer. 'Tis time." She looked to the councilors. "Send for the priest."

The next day, after the council finished discussing preparations for her father's burial and attendant ceremony appropriate for a laird of his stature, Mariota understood what it felt like to hold one's temper in both hands. She clutched hers tightly in her fists on her lap to keep from lashing out at the men sitting across from her father's, now her, desk. MacKay's council. Her father's, not hers. Of the five, she would choose to keep perhaps two of them, and fill the other places with Seamus and Cook and someone else she hadn't decided on yet. It would be unexpected to make up a council with such a mix of ages, skills, and genders. But she saw no value in having all of her councilors with the same experience and the same viewpoint about everything of import to the clan. It was time for a change. She was the change, and she would do more. "We will lay my da to rest in the morning. He wouldna appreciate what ye propose, nor would he have approved it, as ye ken fine. I will send missives to our allies advising them of the bereavement MacKay has suffered and the change in leadership, and thank them for continuing to honor their alliance with us. "

"But we dinna do aught like that," one man continued to mutter.

"My point exactly," Mariota repeated. "Thank ye for seeing the difference I intend to make for MacKay. More diplomacy. Fewer bloodied swords, no' until all other venues have been attempted. We canna continue to lose our young men at the rate we did at Harlaw, just to name the latest example. Da kenned this, but he was wedded to the auld ways. I am no'."

"That is what fashes us, lass."

"Laird MacKay, ye mean?" Mariota said, sweetening her tone to a level that even that daft man would hear the iron in it. She was no longer a lass. She was a laird. And she was discovering that she hated it as much as she'd expected she would. Or even more.

"'Tis past time for the Sutherlands to leave MacKay. How much have they learned about us that they can use against us in the future?"

"Dinna pick a fight with them," she said with a smile, "and 'twillna be a problem."

"Lass," another said, his voice strident, "ye dinna take the danger seriously."

She sighed and tried again. " Laird MacKay." She was getting nowhere with these old wolves, and she blamed her da for leaving her out of his meetings with them. She should have followed her instincts and burst in every time he sat with them. Staked her claim in front of all of them. But she hadn't, and now, they didn't take her seriously. "If ye were to speak to members of the clan other than yer closest friends, ye would find that MacKays welcome the Sutherlands who have been here. Protecting me. What makes ye think those same men would go back to Sutherland and conspire against us when they have ensured that I am able to assume the position I was meant to take."

"Rather than yer wee brother?"

She wasn't sure who muttered it. The voice had been low enough that at first she wasn't sure she'd heard the words correctly. When she played it back in her mind, her control snapped. She wanted to surge to her feet, but realized she would have more impact if she kept her seat and her voice level. "That is enough. All of ye, get out. I will select a new council. Dinna hold yer breath waiting to hear yer name called."

They looked at each other for a moment, the shock of her pronouncement registering quickly in one or two, much more slowly in the rest. One by one, they stood and filed out. James left last, a small smile lifting the corner of his lips as he met her gaze. Did he approve of her decision or was he laughing at her? She was certain he knew about her father's illness. It explained why he'd pushed for a tanist or a strong husband for her. Well, if she had any say in the matter, he'd get his way on the latter. She narrowed her eyes at his back as he walked out the door, then shrugged. His opinion no longer mattered.

Only then did Mariota rise and go to the door. Rather than slam it shut, she beckoned to the Sutherland guard standing outside. "Erik, can ye please have someone fetch Ste…Anders, and Seamus as well."

"Of course, Laird MacKay," he said and smiled before stepping toward the great hall and signaling to another Sutherland.

Well, that certainly proved that he had heard much of her first council meeting. But his smile and his tone of voice reassured her. She had detected no smirk, not even lighthearted teasing in his smile, his tone, or his words. Why did it take a Sutherland to give her her due as Laird MacKay?

The sense of approval he gave her was a lovely gift and seemed unconstrained. If she were the Laird of Sutherland, she'd be able to count on at least him.

The stray thought stopped her and distracted her from watching him relay her request to his clansman. Where had it come from? She was not the laird of Sutherland.

She could be married to Stellan, and be Lady of the clan. His partner, his helper, in a place where she would have much more freedom to be herself, to train hawks and falcons. To train the lasses in archery to guard the walls of Dunrobin in a way she'd never been allowed to do at MacKay.

And even as MacKay laird, she might not be able to break through the attitude that something had always been done a certain way. Some things she could affect, but lasses as warriors would be a huge change at MacKay. Seamus may have done her no favors in teaching her to shoot. Each thing he learned, he taught her as soon as they could arrange it, telling her that it helped him to learn and remember the lessons, the technique, the purpose.

Longing rose in her again, sharp and bittersweet. Could she have that kind of freedom in her future? Should she? Alber had disappeared and, she prayed, was no longer close by, though he could still be a threat in the future. Were there others? Others who were opposed to a lass as laird? To her specifically for her role in her brother's death, the one they considered the rightful heir?

Was she giving up too easily? She'd barely assumed the title and responsibility. But she was not the only person at MacKay who could be laird. There were better choices. Men, aye, but good men. Men like Seamus, hungry to learn and to teach, to protect and to help others enjoy life. Men who could fight and kill when the need arose. As she had done. She was not so different from them, except in one major way. Not her gender, but her desire for the position, the title, the responsibility and the acclaim that went with it. She lacked that crucial factor. She could do the job, but she would never think of it as hers and hers alone.

She heard voices outside and a moment later, Seamus entered, followed by Stellan. "Laird," Seamus said.

While they settled, she tried to recall whether Seamus could have any idea who Stellan really was. He was no fool. He might have figured it out, too. "Take a seat. I need yer wisdom."

The men exchanged a glance and sat down. "What do ye need, Mariota?"

"Call yer man on guard inside, too," she told Stellan. "Erik overheard much of the last meeting. He may have impressions I missed."

Stellan went to the door and fetched his guard, then closed the door behind them.

Mariota gestured them to a seat and explained what had happened in the council meeting, and her thinking since then, all except her thoughts about Sutherland and her possible future there.

Stellan's man added only that as the councilors left, they went from silent and introspective to egging each other to anger. "It doesna bode well, my laird. They will cause trouble for ye and whomever ye choose for yer new council."

"Overt trouble can be handled," Stellan observed. "Danger lies in the ones who remain silent and strike suddenly from an unexpected direction. People ye ken and trust— and shouldna."

"Seamus? Yer thoughts?"

"Ye will win them over, Mari, in time. Ye are capable, more than any other lass in the clan. More than they will expect."

"Thanks to ye, no' to my da. And thanks to what ye and Cook taught me, else Alber might have done what he wished with me. Instead I was able to fight him off. Still, I dinna believe I have time," Mariota admitted. "Nor do I have the will to do this job as it should be done. I intend to abdicate in yer favor, Seamus. I will leave MacKay, and all of the problems associated with me being laird will go with me. Ye will have a fresh start. Ye are a man the clan admires and respects. Ye will do well here."

"Mari, nay."

"I recommend ye choose yer own council. Dinna make the mistake of adopting Da's. They are moribund and will be nay help to ye."

"Ye truly mean to do this?" Stellan's brows winged and a hopeful smile lifted the corners of his lips.

"I do. Do ye still want me to go to Sutherland with ye, Stellan?" Despite the import of his answer, she couldn't help glancing at Seamus to see how he reacted to her revelation.

He grinned. So he had suspected.

"Ye ken I do. But Mariota, what ye will be giving up?—"

"Naught that I want. Everything I wish for is with ye." It took strength to turn away from the joy reflected in Stellan's eyes, but she looked to Seamus and stood. "Ye may as well begin now. I have some packing to do. We will make the announcement to the clan at supper and leave in the morning."

"Have ye considered, Mari, that I mightna want the job either?" He asked as he and Stellan got to their feet, too.

"Nay, I havena, because ye are perfect for it and will be a much better laird than my da was. Than I could ever be."

She walked around the desk and went first to Seamus, kissing him on the cheek. "My friend, I entrust MacKay to ye. I ken ye can handle it better than anyone." Then she turned to Stellan and took his hand. "Let's get ready to go. I'm eager to start a new life with ye."

Mariota felt like holding her breath the entire way back to Sutherland, fearful that something would happen to force her to return to MacKay, or that she would wake up and realize this was a dream and she was locked in her chamber by her father, with Alber pacing outside her door. Only Stellan's calm presence at her side helped her accept that this change in her life was real. His men surrounded them, along with an honor guard of MacKay's best warriors chosen by Seamus to accompany her to her new home. Over his objections, she had refused his presence, reminding him that he had much to do to cement his place as MacKay's laird.

Stellan reached over and took one of her hands from the reins she clutched. " Fashing again, love? We've no' far to go, and we'll be home."

She summoned a smile for him and released a sigh. "I'll be glad to see Dunrobin. I keep expecting something to happen?—"

"Naught will, lass. We're well protected and have been on Sutherland land since we camped last night. Besides, ye should worry for me. Once Da finds out what Anders and I did, he's likely to skelp the both of us. But dinna fear. He'll welcome ye."

"I hope so. Ye canna ken how much I hope all of Sutherland will welcome me. And support our marriage."

Stellan's face lit with one of his rare, heartfelt smiles. His eyes twinkled with mirth, making her laugh.

"What is it?"

"Ye ken who will support it the most? Anders. The lasses will now have to put all their hopes on him, and believe me, he'll take advantage of that."

"That sounds terrible."

"Nay, 'tisna. They've chased both of us for years. Anders is well-capable of enjoying them— and of fending off any lass he doesna want or trust. What the lasses may no' yet realize is that Da wants Anders to wed outside of Sutherland, too, and bring home a bride and an alliance to benefit us."

"I think I hear hearts breaking already."

"Aye, if ye dinna, ye soon will. Look— there's Dunrobin."

Mariota looked where he pointed. Indeed, the tops of the highest towers were just becoming visible above the intervening trees. "Almost home," she said on a breath.

"Almost home," Stellan repeated and squeezed her hand. "Better?"

"Aye. Thank ye for distracting me from my worries."

"I'll always care for ye, lass."

"I ken ye will. And I will take care of ye the same. And someday, our bairns, as well."

This time, Stellan gave her a smile that held heat rather than humor. "The sooner we wed, the better, I think."

"I think so, too."

An arrow flew out of the woods and buried itself in the pommel where Valkyrie perched, pinning several of her claws to the wood.

Stellan pushed Mariota down over her and threw his body across hers. "Find that shooter!"

Mariota did her best to control Valkyrie's thrashing while several MacKays took off into the woods. Her hood had come loose and Mariota knew the hawk, in her struggles, could rip out her throat without meaning to. "Let me up, Stellan!"

"Nay, stay down."

"I need to secure Valkyrie, and free her claws. She's got her hood loose enough to come off."

"Damn." Stellan sat up and pulled Mariota back against him, then reached around her and grabbed the arrow, working to get it loose and free her hawk.

Mariota secured Valkyrie's hood, then went to work helping Stellan. As soon as they managed to work the arrow loose enough for Stellan to pull it out of the pommel, Mariota told him, "I'm going to let her fly. She's safer above the trees than here."

While she worked at the ties of Valkyrie's jesses, Stellan asked, "Will she fly for Dunrobin's mews?"

"I hope so," Mariota told him as she got Valkyrie free and pulled off her hood. "She lost a claw," she said as the hawk wasted no time launching herself skyward. "Fly on!" Mariota shouted at her, then swept her hands, streaked with blood, forward. The blood had to be Valkyrie's. Her fingers were uncut, and she hadn't noticed any blood on Stellan's. She looked up in time to see another arrow track Valkyrie, but it missed. "Fly, lass!" Even bleeding, she should reach Ian at Dunrobin.

"Damn it, he's still out there," Stellan said. "Stay down and let the men wall ye off," he said and leapt for his horse.

"'Tis Alber," Mariota shouted as he rode toward the source of the arrows. "It has to be. He's a terrible shot." She didn't know if Stellan heard her. Two of his men and four MacKays closed in around her too quickly for her to see whether he acknowledged her or not. His remaining two Sutherlands took off after him as soon as they saw she was surrounded.

"Ride, lass," Stellan's man Elias told her. "We're for Dunrobin as fast as we can."

The men kicked their horses into a gallop, forcing hers to keep pace, and raced for Dunrobin's gates. No more arrows came their way, confirming Mariota's sense that the shooter was Alber. He tried to kill the hawk that damaged his face and neck, she was sure of it. If instead, he hit her, she was sure he'd consider it a bonus.

The castle proved to be farther away than it appeared, as was often the case in the mountains. But her guards refused to let up their urgent pace and rode hard. The men beside her kept sweeping her with their gazes, making sure she was up for this rough pounding. She gave them a nod and bent lower over her horse's neck. She would stay with them, no matter how fast they rode, for as long as her horse could keep up.

They maintained the pace far longer than Mariota expected but slowed to rest the horses by a fast-moving burn. By now, she was certain they were in no danger from Alber— or whomever shot at Valkyrie. She had to admit the possibility that she'd been wrong. In any case, she hoped her hawk had made it to the mews. Her first concern now was Stellan.

She twisted in her saddle to look behind them.

"He'll be along," Camus told her.

"With Alber's head dripping gore on his sword, I hope," she muttered. That man had been a thorn in her side, and a danger to her and to Valkyrie for entirely too long. Her da had finally sent him away. A bad decision, that.

And today, she was certain, Valkyrie had paid the price of a claw. She hoped that was all her hawk had suffered, and that the Sutherland hawk master, Ian, would recognize her and realize she needed care.

She looked skyward but saw no sign of a circling hawk. Valkyrie had to have obeyed and gone on ahead. She couldn't bear to think of the alternative, that an arrow had found her and she lay dead in the woods behind them. Tears burned the back of her eyes. She blinked them away. She would not borrow trouble. Not that. Never that. Alber could not win.

"How far have we left to go?"

"Over that next hill, across a glen and through the gates," Elias told her.

So the answer to her concern was closer forward than behind. She kicked her mount into motion. Stellan had men with him, his arms, and his prowess. Valkyrie had her, and perhaps Ian. Dunrobin was close. She'd never thought to reenter it without Stellan at her side, but she would do what she must. She always had.