Chapter 13

"Come, if we want to be back at the village in time for dark...," Ainslee beckoned to Malcolm, who seemed to have turned to stone on the back of his horse.

It was awkward between them, on that narrow crick of road; just him and her, now that the others had gone.

Anxiously, Ainslee looked around, shrugging in the cold air, hopeful for a sight of Marisse. But she was gone. Maybe, thought Ainslee, she had left them on purpose in order to talk.

But Malcolm was still there, waiting.

Ainslee turned toward him. "Ye do want to go home, dinnae ye?"

Malcolm stirred himself. A glance into the murky gray skies, he smiled. "Aye," he said, pulling the reins on his stallion. "I dinnae want anything more!"

Finally, he had reprised his own horse, leaving Ainslee to hers, and the little dappled mare mightily relieved.

Ainslee bit her tongue, and tried not to tell him he better be prepared. Suddenly, she didn"t have the heart to. He looked so daftly happy she couldn"t. But after ten years away, Ainslee knew only too well that things would not be as he had left them when Malcolm returned.

Instead, she smiled. "Best put yer clothes on, lad," with a little wink, at Malcolm"s exposed flesh, being blasted by the arctic sidewinds to the road.

Malcolm shrugged, but threw his leine on, unphased by the cold winds. Ainslee marveled at his hardiness, almost as much as she did his muscular frame.

Ten years away had done much to improve his physique, and there had been nothing wrong with it to start with.

Trotting along, side by side, they traveled quietly. The air was fresh and wild, gusts from the east kept rocketing them, but somehow the snow which had fallen overnight did not repeat itself. But as they went, she sensed he was lost in clouds.

A silence opened out, getting bigger all the time. There were so many things; the places he had been, the lasses he had been with...

The longer they rode, the harder it got.

Her belief in him dangled in between them like a stray hope. She should be able to seize it, resume things between them. But first, she needed to face him. He had never meant to leave her, but what had happened after he did? What of the women he had met?

She needed to know more, even if it hurt her.

Looking down, and then ahead at the road, Ainslee set her eyes to the village.

"Nearly there, noo," she said, as the tiny village appeared on the horizon.

There he would find his old haunts, even his home.

And then he would see something else; how much it had changed.

Ainslee had no words how to explain that, either.

* * *

It wasdark when they rounded the hill to the village. By then Malcolm was weary, a strange heaviness overcoming his arms and legs.

Stopping on the large stallion, he paused by the vantage to the town.

"Ye braw?"

Ainslee was looking at him, a concerned light in her dark brown eyes. Malcolm checked himself, a tingle of pleasure rushing through him. He had missed her gentle stare; he had missed her.

"Ah, I"m braw," he said, lifting himself. Raising his head, he attempted to see far and wide. The night was settling in fast, but with a bright moon, he could glance about the little settlement.

From here, it looked peaceful and calm. But something in Ainslee"s demeanor suggested all was not well. Pensive, she cast her eyes out to the low blackhouses on the way.

"A penny for them," said Malcolm, as she stared. Smiling, Ainslee turned around.

"Wheesht," she said, tugging her horse"s reins. "Ye couldnae find ha"penny in this toon..."

Malcolm looked up to see what she meant, but Ainslee was already riding, taking her small gray mare by the lead and making it trot quickly. Malcolm followed suit, wondering what ailed her.

He might have been away long, but he hadn"t forgotten. He knew when something was wrong.

Soon they came to the brow of the village. Again, Ainslee stopped. A very few of the lowhouses sent smoke rippling into the night, but mostly, the fires were out.

Malcolm shivered. With the cold settling in for the night, temperatures were falling. Eyes glancing about, he watched Ainslee.

She seemed unsettled. Wrapping the shawl about her arms, she shivered, but appeared sharp. Her face twitched and turned in various directions, as if she could hear something he could not.

"What is it, lass?" he asked, expectant. "Is someone there?"

Ainslee looked at him, absently, then shrugged. But the edgy way she kept glancing across her shoulder bothered him.

"Ainslee," he said, more gently. "What is it lass...? There"s nae to be afeard o", I"m here..."

Ainslee laughed drily. "Ye an" whose army, lad?" she tutted. "Tis certainly nae ye clan's!"

Malcolm stood, puzzled; what did she mean by that? He dismounted and began walking toward her. But as he approached, Ainslee pushed him away.

"Wheesht!" she said, this time more forcibly. Rebutted, Malcolm took a step back, but he was not happy.

"Ainslee," he said, more firmly. "Ye shoo me like a fly on yer shoe..."

Ainslee just pouted, her lips illuminated by the early evening moon. Then she pulled a face. "I didnae," she insisted, leaving Malcolm half-amused, half-perplexed.

Before he had time to do anything else, she lifted her horse"s reins.

"Shall we get started?"

Malcolm mounted his horse, and slowly they started wending their way down from the top of the mount, to the inside of the town. As they approached, Malcolm was struck by a sense of foreboding.

"Ainslee?" he said in almost a whisper. He didn"t know why. It was evening, certainly. It would be settling down. But all around him was an eerie silence.

As they approached, riding closer to the homes, he felt it some more. Total silence.

"Whit"s happening lass? Where"s the bairns, the greeting, the dogs... the fiddlers?"

Ainslee watched him, blanche faced. She did not respond.

Going nearer to the front of some of the cottages, it was hard to establish if they were in or not, but as they drew closer a deep stillness set in.

"Where are they? Are they gone awa"?" Malcolm"s haunted face peered over the mean cottages.

It was dark, but enough light to see by told him something was up. The houses were ramshackle and worn, even by Highlands standards. In the walls, there were gaps missing, and visible holes in the roofing,

From the total silence, it was clear no one was in there, although here and there, one or two of the cottages might have been inhabited, he was not sure.

Walking around the village, Malcolm watched, open-mouthed. But it was when they reached the village tavern that his blood ran cold. The place was empty, abandoned.

Glancing at Ainslee, he frowned anxiously. "Lass, what"s happened? Was there a war?"

Ainslee just shrugged. "Might as well as been," she said, still mounted. Malcolm noticed her looking around more, as if she expected to meet something or someone. Edging closer toward her, he looked up, protectively.

"Where are they all?" he asked, simply. By now, they were at the front of the tavern. Close up, Malcolm could tell no one had been here for some time. Gingerly, he pushed the heavy door open. It creaked with an ominous sound, but then offered up nothing.

Just nothing. Shuffling slowly in, Malcolm glanced around the bar. It was dark, empty. No fire glowed in the center, and no lamps light the walls. A damp, low cold pervaded the stone walls, which clung to the gloom.

Malcolm shivered, somehow it was even more cold inside than out. From the low light in the bar, he dimly made out the mess - tables overturned, and cups strewn everywhere. Before the place was cleared, there had been a fight.

Now back outside, Malcolm gazed at the sky. He gave up asking Ainslee for information, and sat shaking his head.

Softly, she came toward him, dismounted her horse, and gently said;

"They left," she murmured. Malcolm just nodded, that bit had been clear enough. "Bandits, raids, attacks on the clan... but mostly... just fear..."

Malcolm looked up. Her face was cold and bland, setting her cheek against the skies, Ainslee carried on.

"An" hunger, an" cold, the most awful hunger...," Ainslee"s voice trailed off. "Things ha" nae been right for a lang time..."

A hollow wind rattled around the village, Malcolm felt it chill him inside. "Tell me what happened," he said, slowly, as he sat down on the tavern step.

Ainslee, sitting beside him, just shrugged. "Nae much to tell... the place has been left to ruin... Bruce"s men stole so much from the folk, the rest, the bandits took... an" he took their crops... an" animals... until there was nothing left... that"s when the people went..."

The pale light in the corner of the skies faded, replaced by the thick curtain of black. Night had certainly fallen, and with it, the temperature dropped. Shivering, Ainslee brought the cloak closer, and tried to keep warm.

Malcolm"s eyes went to hers. They were still, and dark.

"Nae," he shook his head. "He cannae get awa" wi" this...! Wait until I see him!"

The choler rose up within him, choking him suddenly. He was awash with cold rage. But Ainslee just sat simply, her head bent.

"Tis nae the time, yet," she said, calmly. Malcolm wondered how she could be so serene, but when he saw her face closely, he realized it was weariness not resignation.

Her pale face pressed to him, Malcolm felt her heat. She was tantalizingly close now, but in her face he saw that she was exhausted. So was he.

Despite his longing, he could not hold her. It just was not right.

Uncomfortably, he watched her.

"Nae," he said, unable to resist brushing a hair from her head. She was near now, really close. It took divine levels of willpower for him not to touch her. "This cannae be allowed... Ainslee, lass, we must take him tonight! While he sleeps! Then it will be over..."

As he spoke, his voice became louder, emboldened. It surprised himself, the rage he felt. To begin with, he had been numbed - in silence. The shock he felt at the devastation of the town had been disorienting. But now it was growing in his heart.

"Come, lass, I will ride to find him!" said Malcolm, his eyes flashing in the dim light. But Ainslee did not stir.

Then, she clutched at him.

"Nae," she chided, almost pulling him down. He had stood fully up, from the step on the tavern, and had been about to mount his waiting horse, when Ainslee suddenly shushed him.

Pulling her finger to her mouth, she held him, urging him to stay close.

A sweet, if frozen moment tingled; Ainslee right beside him, almost on his knee. A strange rush ran through Malcolm.

She was so close...

But then, a faint tapping pulled him upwards. From the glance she sent him, it was clear she had heard it first. Slowly, it grew louder; horse steps, coming close.

"Hark," said Ainslee, although he already heard. Somewhere on the distance, a rider was approaching.

Instinctively, he was on his guard. Malcolm drew his sword, as the horseman came close.

"Nae," said Ainslee, holding him down. "Stay oot o" sight..."

Malcolm pushed her away. He had no intention of staying out of sight. But as a precaution, he put away his sword, and instead reached for his slingshot, tucked into the saddlebag.

"Malcolm!" Ainslee hissed, but Malcolm held her tight, pulling her backwards, out of the sight of the rider, as he came towards them.

There was no time to mount their horses, instead, Malcolm pushed them quickly around the side of the tavern. Taking aim with the sling shot, he prepared his mark.

By now, his heart was pumping double time. The stranger on the horse was before them, but his face was hidden from light.

Ainslee peeked gingerly at Malcolm, but he shooed her down. Staring across the darkened vista, he could hear and see nothing.

Glancing at Ainslee to stay down, Malcolm wasted no time. Pulling the sling to his shoulder, he fired the shot, it soared across the sky for what felt like forever, before landing with a searing smack.

Then, silence.

Malcolm cleared his throat "Halt, who goes there?"

* * *

"Ye killed him!"

Ainslee"s voice rang high and light, reverberating around the night skies. Inside she felt elated - a heady combination of fright and lack of sleep. Heart thumping, her eyes strained to see more closely, but across the town, there was nothing to see.

It was too dark.

This did not stop Ainslee"s mounting hysteria.

"Ye killed him! Malcolm! Och crivvens!"

Malcolm cast his eyes around. But it was dark, and he couldn"t see well. Neither of them could see where the stranger had gone.

"Och, keep the heid!" tutted Malcolm, irritably. But Ainslee was not to be sated.

"Ye killed him! The man on the horse...we dinnae ken who he was... he might have been a villager!"

She stared at him desperately. Malcolm walked towards where the man had been standing. There was nothing; not even his horse. Ainslee felt the hairs on the back of her neck prick up.

"Nae fash," murmured Malcolm, squeezing her hand. Ainslee froze to the spot where she stood, refusing to go any further. Not noticing, Malcolm tugged her. "C"mon lass..."

"Mal," Ainslee said in a quiet voice. Malcolm looked around, behind them, a low moaning sound had started. Glimpsing her eyes through the hazy moonlight, Malcolm could see her fear.

"Och help ma...," a groaning voice droned out. Ainslee"s hair almost stood on end. Grasping Malcolm tight, she peered fearfully.

Malcolm had crouched down, and was now earnestly looking through the undergrowth by the side of the road. Tensely, Ainslee waited.

"Och, ma heid," a low voice groaned. Ainslee gave a little squeal, as the shape of a man appeared in front of her.

"Get back," said Malcolm, firmly, before coming in close to the body. As he went up to the man, he stopped dead.

"That"s braw way to greet yer captain!"

"James!"

Malcolm"s jaw almost fell open. He stared straight ahead, as the injured captain pulled himself up from the road. Watching them behind him was Ainslee, shaking her head.

"Whit"s happened?" she asked, softly. Her heart was bumping extra hard. All she wanted to do was to get home, but it was starting to feel like they would never get there.

James sat up, for the first time, she saw him clearly, as a chink of light fell from the clouds above. Rubbing his head, James winked.

"Naething," he said playfully, winking at her. Ainslee immediately dropped her head. Fuming, she bit her lip.

James sprang up, grinning at Malcolm. "Och, ye couldnae hit a ten ton turbot in a barrel!"

Malcolm blinked. James laughed.

"Ye missed - by aboot a mile... the thing whooshed o"er ma heid!" James face crackled with mischief, just visible in the shadowy night skies. For a moment there was silence, as Malcolm took in what had been said. Then, he shook his head.

"Och, ye wee scunner," he said under his breath, but all the same, went to hug James briefly. He might have been pleased to see him, but Ainslee was not. Instead, she was most concerned.

"Where"s Marisse?" she said, looking straight at the captain. Her expression did not falter. For the first time, the smile faded on James" lips.

"Och, she"s nae lang off, nae fash, lass," he said, dismissively. Ainslee felt her temper bubble.

"Lo! Here she comes!" Malcolm said, as the faint noise of hooves came towards them. Ainslee looked; gradually, a woman with long, blonde hair came into view.

"Ainslee!" Marisse called, and Ainslee surged with relief. She had been worried about her riding on her own - although casting an eye to James - she was not certain about him, either.

An undercurrent of serious belied his bawdy demeanor. Anxiously, she looked to Malcolm, his dark cloud had not lifted since arriving in the village.

"So then, laird Malcolm, whit"s yer plan?" James sounded jaunty enough, but the piercing look that accompanied it left Ainslee in no doubt. The pair were serious about attacking tonight.

"Mal, I," she began, but immediately, Malcolm talked over her.

"We ride tonight," said Malcolm, stiffly. Ainslee took a breath deep inside. Her eyes flitted to Marisse, silent on the horse beside her. The four were riding, down the brow of the hill, and back out to the main track towards their village.

"Malcolm, ye cannae!" shouted Ainslee, with such vehemence that Malcolm stopped dead. Slowly he turned, fixing his colorless eyes on hers. Ainslee pleaded with him, helpless.

"Ye cannae go tonight, tis madness, ye"ll be killed for sure!" she entreated.

Malcolm"s face was cold as stone. Through the gray darkness it was impossible to fathom the shade of his eyes - or even the red of his hair. Ainslee watched, fascinated, as the moonlight washed Malcolm"s hair of its color.

"Enough! I have waited ten years for this! I have come to slay him, an" bring peace back to the clans!"

Malcolm"s cheeks were pale, but his words were bloody. Ainslee felt her stomach plummet into her knees.

"Ye cannae bring peace, wi" bloodshed," she reasoned. She was holding the reins so tight, they almost cut her. But despite his frozen stare, she did not back down.

"Whit are ye saying I should do?" demanded Malcolm. "Ask him nicely to leave?"

His voice was low and surly, sending a bitter dart towards her. Ainslee"s heart ran cold. She had never seen this side to him. He was cold, angry, full of hate.

All the same, she held her ground. "Nae," she said, bluntly. "I am asking ye to do nae o" the sort, just wait for one night..."

She turned to Malcolm, impassively. "It"s one night, what"s the big rush? Ye"ve had ten years... one night more willnae hurt... an" it"ll give ye chance to work oot what to do... Malcolm, he"s got a whole army there... where as ye... ye"ve got ye two!"

She cast her gaze upon him, a warm treacly hue. Finally, he relented.

"Och, alright, then," he said, somewhat reluctant. Having come to a complete stop, Malcolm finally directed his horse to continue in its travel. He turned to Ainslee, his eyes gray in the moonlight.

"We will go first to yer Smiddy, an" bed doon for the night, but tomorrow - we ride for the clan keep... an" naething will stop us!"

As Malcolm trotted off, Ainslee"s eyes met with Marisse. Both of them shared a look.

Ainslee could only hope that Malcolm was right.

* * *

It was approachingmidnight when they rode into the barn that served as her father"s smiddy.

Drenched, frozen and almost asleep upright, the four crept through the barn door, following Ainslee"s lead to enter softly.

"Wheesht!" she warned, as captain James knocked a candelabra over. "My father is asleep in there, an"..."

"Ainslee?"

Her father"s voice rang through the gloom, leaving Ainslee frozen to the spot. Beside her, Malcolm looked up.

"Ainslee, is that ye? Whit"s the meaning o" coming in this late hour? Where"ve ye been?"

Alasdair MacDonald appeared from the backroom, wearing a long night shirt, and little else. Marisse suppressed a giggle, as Ainslee"s brain struggled to compose an answer.

Slowly, the dull light from the backroom infiltrated the shop. Her father held a candle, flickering in the drafts, up to her face. For the first time he saw the others.

"Jings...! Who is this!"

Alasdair McDonald stood back, almost dropping the candlestick. Malcolm stepped forward.

"Guid evening, Mister MacDonald, how fare ye?"

He smiled, broadly, as Ainslee"s father squinted in the half-light. Seeing him struggle, Marisse lit the small candelabra knocked over, setting it down straight on the work table.

A dim light spread around the darkened smiddy, illuminating the tools and metalware hanging down. A low shadow cast over the flickering room, adding to the conspiracy.

MacDonald saw Malcolm, and his jaw fell low. "Zooks, it is never!"

Ainslee rushed to steady her father, who suddenly seemed uncertain on his feet. But he shooed her away, as he sped to greet Malcolm.

"It cannae be," said her father, his pale eyes about to pop out of his head. He stared at Malcolm madly. "Nae, tis a trick o" the light! We thought ye were dead... or as good as!"

Malcolm raised his eyes. "I"m nae dead, Mister MacDonald," he said, drily. Ainslee felt her heart flush. All these years, she had believed he had left her. But she wasn"t the only one. Everyone in the clan thought Malcolm had abandoned them.

"But?" the tiny smithy"s eyes opened, almost about to bulge out of his face. "Lass?"

Wildly, he turned to Ainslee, his face agog, unable to make sense of this. Slowly, Ainslee nodded.

"Aye, tis true, Malcolm has returned," she said, a surge of pride rising in her. Suddenly, she could deny no more. She was pleased he had come here.

"By God"s bones," muttered Mister MacDonald, but he remembered his manners. "Come in, come in," he said, ushering them into the smiddy. Gingerly, he eyed the captain, as he too entered the workshop.

"This is James, my captain," said Malcolm, introducing the two. MacDonald looked blank.

"Captain?" he said, with a stare to her. Ainslee opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Malcolm leaped in.

"On the boat... I was at sea, Mister MacDonald, but nae by choice..."

Her father"s eyes widened again, setting off the permanent furrows in his brow.

"Please believe me, sir, I had nae intention o" leaving, an" abandoning my clan..."

Here, his eyes met Ainslee"s.

For a moment, she wondered if he would say anything about abandoning her. Sparking in the half-light, Malcolmconnected with her, reeling her in. Ainslee had forgotten the energy in his eyes.

"But... what happened?" asked her father open-mouthed.

"Bruce," said Ainslee, matter of factly. "He planned all o" this!"

Her father sat down, stunned and dizzy. Gently, Malcolm came closer.

"We need a place to stay Mister MacDonald, just fer a night until we can go an" pay oor Bruce a visit...Can I count on ye?"

MacDonald jumped up, ferocious. "O" course, sir, ye can stay as long as ye like!"

Then with a side glance to Ainslee, said. "Ye"ve given us all a wee shock, that"s all lad, but tis naething to the shock Bruce will ha" when he sees ye..."

Grinning, Malcolm put his hand in Ainslee"s, and held it there for one brief moment. It tingled and turned in hers, leaving her wanting more.

Then, McDonald sighed. "Och, to be a fly on the wall when he sees ye, sir!"