Chapter Ten

"The blood of the fallen Macdonalds of Sleat and MacLeods of Dunvegan has painted centuries of Skye's history red. During the late 16th century, as an offering of peace to end the long feud between the two clans, MacLeod chieftain, Rory Mòr, offered his sister's hand in marriage to Donald Gorm."

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"Where is Sara?" Kenan Macdonald's voice boomed as he jumped down from his horse outside the squat cottage that stood alone on the moor. Fluttering crows squawked in agitation behind him as if defending Morag Gunn's territory.

The man was as large as Rory, with dark hair streaked with bits of red and a slightly crooked nose from having it broken by the butt of a musket in Carlisle Castle's dungeon.

"She's not here," Rory answered and stepped away from Airgid, who was tied loosely to a hitching post.

Kenan drew his sword, lips curled back in fury. Rory pulled his own sword, meeting him, their sword blades clanging together. They stood on opposite sides, Kenan glaring at Rory as if he'd personally abducted, assaulted, and killed his sister.

Kenan gritted his teeth. "Where is she?" They pushed equally against one another.

Did Kenan really think that after what they'd gone through, Rory would bring harm to his sister? Anger licked up inside him, but he gripped it tightly, although the animal fury must have shone in his eyes because Kenan blinked. In a warrior so fierce, it was the most surprise Rory would get from Kenan.

"She's safe," Rory said, his words like a growl. "Unharmed, warm, and well fed."

They stared through the crossed swords for several breaths. Rory lifted his empty hand, spreading his fingers wide, palm facing Kenan so he could see the scars, the scars that should remind Kenan of their loyalty to one another. Kenan's gaze moved to it, and Rory instantly felt him relax his forward press. He raised his own scarred palm, and the two clasped hands, palms together. "The Brotherhood."

"Thicker than blood," Rory answered.

Kenan stepped back, sheathing his sword. His hands went to his wild, mussed hair. "I've been sick with worry." He looked at Rory, dropping his hands. "She's the best person I know." He shook his head. "She had nothing to do with Father's scheme."

Rory studied the man. He looked honest in his frustration and concern. "Yer father called her Seraphina, the Flame of Dunscaith."

Kenan's lips opened, and he paused in the pacing he'd begun. "She hates Seraphina, because it means fiery one."

The woman did have a fiery disposition, but it gave her strength.

"The rest is a concocted name." Kenan cursed, shaking his head.

"My cottage is neutral territory, so come inside," Morag called from where she leaned against her front door eating a handful of shelled nuts as if she were watching a theatrical production. "Out here, you're disturbing my birds." Glossy black crows swooped to catch a handful of nuts Morag threw up into the air for them.

Kenan tied his horse to Morag's fence next to Airgid. Rory walked inside, nearly bumping his head on the low ceiling. He scanned the tidy two-room cottage, its walls a white plaster over stones. Bundles of herbs hung from the low rafters under a thatched roof, and a lime-ash floor was swept with a few small rugs placed about.

Morag moved with such grace it seemed she floated. The difference between the youthful walk and her braid of silvery white hair was jarring. Stopping by a hearth made of fitted gray stones, she took up a long iron spoon to stir a pot of stew like some witch in a fable. He wouldn't be surprised if there were frogs and poisonous mushrooms in it.

"She isn't being kept in Dunvegan's dungeon, is she?" Kenan asked. "She hates dank, dark places." The two warriors stood slightly bent so as not to knock their heads.

"Nay. She's in the west tower room," Rory said.

Kenan's face looked tormented. "And she suffered no harm from the fire or battle afterwards?"

Rory shook his head and watched relief soften Kenan's features.

"I am indebted to ye," Kenan said. "I should have realized my father's trick in sending me away. And then he swore that ye had killed Sara."

No wonder Kenan had started this meeting with an attack.

Rory wouldn't tell Kenan about the furious thoughts that had scalded his mind when he first saw Sara standing there beside the flaming chapel. Or how she'd thought he would slice her throat, leaving her to bleed amongst the green ferns.

Rory cleared his throat. "Jamie is still unconscious, but the surgeon is hopeful he will wake. Either way, yer sister should not wed him."

"She can't return to Dunscaith," Kenan said. "My father blames her for foiling his plans to take over yer clan." He stretched his bearded jaw as if it ached. "He will never agree to peace."

Rory's hand came down on his shoulder. "My father was a warring bastard, too. But then he saw fifteen thousand Scots defeated by three thousand Englishmen at Solway Moss because our troops didn't trust each other. I think 'tis why he made Jamie promise to try to unify the Isle of Skye with his dying breath." Jamie had also told Rory that their sire hadn't mentioned him at all the night when he succumbed to his illness.

"And when yer brother suggested the wedding," Kenan said, "my father used Sara to get close to ye."

Morag swore. She'd taken a seat at the table where a single candle stood lit before her. "Walter Macdonald will use anyone who can advance his plans. He's a selfish cur." She looked at Kenan. "Your mother thought she could change his wicked ways, but she couldn't." Morag shook her head. "He treated her better than most, at least at the beginning, but he wouldn't change. Vengeance taints his blood and heart."

How many Macdonald and MacLeod lives would be saved by the death of that one man? Someone needed to send Walter Macdonald to the grave, and it couldn't be Kenan. Patricide would be asking too much.

As if reading his mind, Morag swept a hand toward her shelves of little clay pots. "'Tis easy enough to get rid of Walter Macdonald." Some pots must hold poison.

Kenan's face snapped toward her. "Ye would kill your brother by marriage?"

She shrugged her slender, straight shoulders draped with a gray woolen shawl. "He likely killed my sister."

Rory stared at the woman in silence. He didn't trust her and her witchy ways.

Kenan rubbed a fist against his forehead as if it ached. "Ye have no proof of that, Aunt." From his weary voice, it sounded like an old argument.

She moved her hand in the air. "You pray to God every day without proof of Him. I believe Walter killed my sister without having seen it. 'Tis wisdom and my clever mind that sees what happened." She offered a grim smile.

"Will Jamie treat Sara as a traitor when he wakes?" Kenan asked, changing the subject. "Is that why she shouldn't marry him?"

"Jamie has a suspicious heart," Rory said. "It may not be enough for my housekeeper and several of my men to swear that Sara helped to free us from the fire."

Kenan stepped closer. "If my sister is in danger, bring her here, and Morag will send for me."

Morag grinned. "My birds will protect her." She sounded so sure of the black-winged battalion that circled her cottage.

"I'll send word to ye if 'tis needed," Rory said to Kenan. "Right now, she's safe. Sara has a key to her chamber, so she can lock herself inside. I have the only other key hidden away."

"I could take her to stay with Cyrus Mackinnon," Kenan said as if contemplating his next steps.

Rory's brows rose. "Is that wise? The man's a rogue." The idea of the charming warrior prowling after Sara made Rory's stomach sour. Bloody hell. Cyrus might offer for her right away since her marriage to Jamie had been annulled.

Kenan's mouth pinched closed, and his tongue slid over his teeth. He exhaled. "If Sara is safe at Dunvegan, 'tis best she stay there. Bring her here only if she's thrown in the dungeon or persecuted for the fire."

"I'm acting chief while Jamie recovers," Rory said. "I won't let her come to harm." The thought of Sara being in pain, or even her face pinching in fear, made Rory's temper rise. She'd been so brave when he'd caught her in the forest, even exposing her neck for his blade. The woman had remained unbroken after all these years at Dunscaith under her father's thumb. To see her come to harm under Rory's watch would be an atrocity.

"Many thanks for seeing her innocence in this," Kenan said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Before ye go…" Rory pulled Sara's letter from where it was tucked into his belt and handed it to Kenan. "From Sara."

Kenan nearly ripped it open in his haste in breaking the seal and read. Rory watched him closely. He didn't know what Sara had written but knew it must involve Eleri and Kenan's little sister, Eliza. When Kenan's gaze snapped to Morag, Rory knew the letter did indeed describe the twins.

"Elspet Macdonald had twin bairns," Kenan said, the words slamming against the walls of the cottage. His eyes narrowed at his aunt. "And ye stole one."

Morag moved to the window where several crows hopped on a wide ledge. Pushing it open, they flapped and settled back down. She set out some pieces of dried fish for them.

"Answer me," Kenan ordered.

She turned, leaning against the window casing, and her piercing green eyes opened with apathy, feigned or real. "They were twins, but one had an obvious curve to her spine. Walter Macdonald would have been furious the bairns were lasses to begin with. I knew if one was not perfect in his eyes, he would neglect or kill it outright." Her gaze softened as she kept Kenan's gaze. "Your mother was wise in the ways of her husband, his anger and whims and cruelties. She wouldn't allow harm to come to the second bairn and asked me to carry her away to safety."

"Safety with our enemy?" Kenan asked with disbelief.

Morag looked first at Rory and then at Kenan. "Safety with the bairn's true father, Alasdair MacLeod."