Chapter 19

KYLEAKIN GRANARY - JULY 20, 1385

F ifteen days following the trebuchet's destruction, Léo lay in the middle of a recently gleaned barley field beside a snoring Gordon, staring up at the expanse of the heavens and lingering on one of his favorite psalms. Still unsure who had destroyed the Wolf's trebuchet, Niall had relegated Gordon and himself to stay with the harvest until it was secured, meaning nearly every waking moment he was forced to endure Gordon's endless streams of disgusting comments about Moira, his simpering to Malvina, and his distorted thoughts on life in general.

Léo shifted against the soft earth of the field, thankful that, for once, Gordon had fallen asleep first and he enjoyed a quiet evening. The loamy smell of the earth soothed him as he shifted his pack beneath his head and stared up at the stars between the branches of the ash and pine trees.

For I will behold thy heavens, the works of thy fingers: the moon and the stars which thou hast founded. What is man that thou art mindful of him? Or the son of man that thou visitest him?

Léo's eyelids began to droop, his muscles became weightless. Peace beckoned him to sleep.

The branches above him rustled and he opened his eyes. The frondy branches of the ash tree bounced slow upon the wind but he saw nothing. He shut his eyes. In the distance, an owl hooted.

The birds of the air, and the fishes of the sea, that pass through the paths of the sea. O Lord our Lord, how admirable is thy name…

A smell tickled his nose. Pitch. His eyes popped open. Above him, in the tree, he spotted a flame.

Scrambling to his feet, he watched as the flame shot across the night sky and hit the granary. A whoosh lit up the night like daylight as the roof ignited, tremendous heat burning the skin on his face. Every man asleep in the field got to their feet.

Gordon rushed toward the inferno. "What the devil?!"

Léo looked above him, spotting a slender boy leaping through the branches. He was a dead man.

As the men rushed forward to the granary, he turned, following the boy toward the wood. Whoever he was, Léo must catch him before the caterans did.

Struggling to keep up with the boy's pace, Léo dove between the trees, keeping one eye on the lofty branches. Above, the boy ran with perfect balance down one branch, vaulting through the air and landing on his feet in the next tree. A mixture of disbelief and fear lodged in his chest as the boy launched from one pine to the next with the balance of a cat, swinging and turning, using the branches to outpace Léo as he sprinted through the woods.

As Léo ran toward the edge of the wood he lost his balance and slid belly-first across a loose patch of leaves, the boy gaining distance on him.

Impressed with his stamina, and now determined to meet the boy and discover his reasons for torching the granary, or what clan he belonged to, he got to his feet and began to sprint again.

With a hard knot of fear in his stomach he watched as the boy flipped off a branch at a distance of fifteen feet from the ground, turning and tumbling through the air. Believing for a moment he fell, Léo gasped, but the boy landed steady on his feet with incredible control and power, sprinting across the green moor beyond the arable land.

Legs screaming with every step, Léo sprinted, cursing his prison-hampered endurance as he huffed after him. Bit-by-bit he began to gain ground. Out of the corner of his vision he noticed movement as a tall man caught up to the boy running alongside him. Fear overwhelmed him and he picked up the pace. The boy was done for—the man was racing faster than lightning.

Dashing to protect the boy, Léo made it within arms length, extending his arm and getting a finger hold on the boy's tunic. As if he had eyes in the back of his head, the boy sprang onto his hands and tumbled away from him in a frenetic blur of twisting turns.

A force collided with Léo and he rolled across the grass with much less control than the boy, hitting the dirt hard on his back, rocks and sod spilling over him and the cateran. Holding the man away from himself, his long-dormant battle instinct engaged and he used his legs to throw the cateran over his body.

On the edge of his vision he saw the boy stop and turn. A fist connected with Léo's jaw. He cried out in pain and grabbed the man's fist before it connected again. And then, recognition.

"Léo?!"

"Calum?!"

The sound of running feet headed straight toward them and Léo yelled at them both. "Move!"

Calum picked the boy up over his shoulder and ran. Pushing himself as hard as he could, Léo struggled to keep pace with him.

Léo pointed toward hedges surrounding a pond he remembered swimming in as a lad. "Pond. There."

They disappeared through the bracken and headed for the dark cover of the pond. When they reached the bank, Calum put the boy down, jumped in and held out his arms. "You can do it, get in."

The boy shook his head furiously. Footsteps neared.

Calum looked wide-eyed to the woods, the sweat on his forehead glistening in the moonlight. "Come on. I have you."

Hearing a shout, Léo grabbed the boy, jumping into the pond. Pulling him deep into the black bog, he secured his fist over the boys nose and mouth to keep air from escaping. The boy thrashed and Léo locked his body around him, holding him still, tightening his hold on his mouth. They floated and waited. Above, the sound of yells died away. When his lungs could hold their air no more he pushed off the bottom and broke the surface.

Léo looked around. Thank God, no one was there. In front of him, the boy's arms shot out, reaching toward heaven. Beside him, Calum surfaced and swam toward them, plucking the boy from Léo's hands and launching him onto the bank. It was then he noticed the boy lopped over, shaking, leather-wrapped hands gripping the muddy bank for dear life.

Calum pulled himself onto the bank and put his arm around the boy. "She's dead afeared of water."

She?

Léo pulled himself out of the water and crouched beside the boy, pulling off his sodden knit cap and pushing long wet waves of blond hair out of the black-painted face. Two crystalline eyes found his.

The shock hit him so hard he staggered. "Moira."

Breath heaving, she nodded. He stared at her, slack-jawed.

Calum moved his hands and she responded in quicker motions.

"You know each other?"

Calum's tone was annoyed. "Yes. We have to get out of here."

Incredulity warred with anger. "Why on earth are you burning the granary? Are you out of your mind?"

She tugged Calum's sleeve and moved her hands. He moved his hands back. She jumped on his back and he turned. "Argue with her later. We have to go."

With no choice but to follow, Léo ran after them as Calum once more set a near-impossible pace, running down the shoreline. After ten minutes of sprinting, Calum turned up a path, cutting through a forested beach and up to a small cottage.

Léo spotted Cràdh Prison in the tide and knew at once that this was Father Allen's cottage. Crashing inside, Léo was momentarily stunned as Moira shut and barred the door behind them and ran about the cottage, lighting candles in the tinderbox, securing a blanket over the wooden shutters. He watched her in disbelief—the leather trews, the black tunic, the quiver of arrows and bow upon her back.

In the dim light, he recognized Moira's touch upon every surface. On one wall a colorful net hung, laden with shells, bones, leaves, acorns, feathers, stones, and driftwood. Painted birds dipped and danced across the walls and around the door. Dozens of sketches of her parents, Skye, and animals were pinned against every wall.

He paused in front of a portrait of a younger version of Moira, something in her piercing eyes so familiar. Hair windswept, skin tanned, the charcoal whipped around her in a frenzy of smoke and fire, drawing his focus to the intense beauty of her face. It was the version of her he loved most.

The sound of flint striking flint caused him to shake himself out of his stupor. Moira crouched before the hearth and blew, a brick of peat caught, and a ribbon of smoke extended through the roof.

He found himself staring at her long legs, muscled thighs, and shapely calves accentuated by leather trews. Her arms rippled in the firelight. She was as strong and bold as he remembered, and more wild than he could have imagined—just like the eagle that landed beside him in his nightly vision of Dun Ringill. There was none of the tamed leman in her this night.

Incroyable.

Moira moved her hands in front of Calum and he gave her a soft look. An intimate look. A fire of distrust burned the edges of Leo's temper, knowing how popular Calum had been with the lasses on Mull.

Calum doffed his sodden tunic, and Léo noticed Moira's eyes travel over the tattooed image of the wolfhound that started on Calum's chest and extended down his heavily muscled right arm onto his fingers, marking him as tànaiste of the tribal island of Jura.

Calum interpreted her signs. "She says we won't be able to stay long, the guard moves a patrol along the water at the fourth watch as of three weeks ago."

"How on earth does she know that?"

Calum scoffed. "How do you think? She knows all the movements of the guards—when and where they're going. Her information ensures we're never detected."

Conflicted and confused, Léo could not control his tongue. "That's right. She has her ways of getting men to talk. Loyalty means nothing to her. Sleeping with the man who killed her parents. She makes me sick. What is she getting in exchange for her body?"

Moira's face crumpled then hardened .

He could feel his anger rising out of control. He should shut his mouth but he couldn't stop—the disappointment of losing her, of Moira losing herself, was crashing over him faster than his good sense could soothe. "What's Hector paying you for the information? I hope it's a goodly sum for you to bed Niall and take stupid risks."

Eyes hard, Moira launched across the cottage, her hands colliding with his chest, shoving him back with unexpected strength and he staggered backwards. Her fingers flew in front of his face. Calum came to her side, an expression of fury on his face.

"She says Niall has never stayed one night with her nor she one night with him. He has kissed her, that is all. She says she isn't a…" Calum's voice trailed off as Moira's fingers gestured, and Léo filled in the blanks. "She says you are a stupid, interfering, judgmental eejit and almost got us killed tonight—and I agree."

Léo looked at Calum feeling betrayed. "She almost got herself killed. She couldn't even get in the water to save herself."

Moira stuck a finger in his face, motioning like fast moving rapids of water. Calum again gave voice to her gestures. "For weeks you've been rude and I've had enough. All you've done is insult me and think the worst of me. I'm not earning one plack for this. I've done it for you . I'm filling in for you . I am working against your brother and every member of your miserable family to help you . Because I care for you and told you I was for you, in whatever you chose to be. Unlike how you act—you ask me for my heart and then you shatter it."

"Right back at you," he yelled, but his arrow sailed by her as she continued her tirade.

"But even in prison that's how you were. Kissing me then telling me you thought I was your wife. Smelling me— smelling ?" Calum's voice broke with a chuckle and Léo felt his face blush in embarrassment. "Smelling me and telling me it was cos you liked… the smell of my soap." Calum choked on laughter then continued. "I went all the way to bloody Lochbuie for you—and then you kissed me again and regretted it again . You're hot and then you're cold. Have you not thought about how I feel? I've been enduring your disgusting brother and violent stepmother to get information to make you chief. I believed in you."

She waved her hands at him. "I'm done with you. Do what you will, be with Ardis, go back to prison for all I care. This isnae for you anymore." She pointed to a picture of Father Allen, his kind eyes smiling out beside a laughing woman. "It's for people like Father and Maw who deserve justice. Out of my way. Oh." Calum jumped to the side and she disappeared behind a screen.

It was the most thorough dressing down Léo had ever received in his life. A pair of leather trews flopped over the screen with force followed by her soaking tunic.

Calum turned and cleared his throat. "Well, that was a bit awkward for me." He motioned for the door and Léo followed him back out into the night.

When the door shut, Léo burst with questions. "What on earth is going on, why is Moira flying through trees with you at night?"

"I'm no' flying through any trees. The way she feels about water is the way I feel about heights."

"You know what I'm asking."

Calum gave a weary sigh. "We met her in Lochbuie while we were training for the Shield. She came to the gates at Moy, with some story about bringing herbs for Cara's em…wooman time." Both of them shifted uncomfortably.

Calum continued, the details of the day they'd met spilling out in a frenzied mess. "…So we go back out to seize her and she outran me. Me! Launching over hay carts, climbing the stables, jumping over stalls, jumping onto the barmkin wall—climbed it barehanded. I made the same jump and fell. She climbed the keep. The keep! There wasnae even a bare toe hold on it, but she did. Made it into the window and scared the living daylights out of Aoife before getting upstairs to Cara. Your mouth is hanging open."

He shut his gaping mouth.

"Chief MacLean is following her, screaming and swearing the whole time, and she didnae even flinch. He finally tackled her in his solar, but even then she bit him in the hand and got herself free enough to get your missive out her leine." Calum burst into a hysterical chuckle and waved an invisible note between two fingers. "Then she waves it in his face like he's a kitten chasing a string." Despite his shock, Léo laughed at the image it painted of her spirit .

"Laird takes it and sees you're alive. We wanted to break you out then and there, but she drew the most detailed map I've ever seen. Exact numbers of caterans, the patrols, the bìrlinns, the detail of the prison…"

He thought of the detail she'd sketched into Gabriel's face. "Aye, she's a talented artist."

"Astonishing. But that's not all. The following day Chief MacLean brings her to Laggan Wood so she can teach us some basic signs she uses to communicate, thinking we might learn to say things like ‘go, stop, there's four men in the clearing,' that sort of thing… and she gives us each a sign-name."

"A sign-name?"

Calum's hands made the signs. "Aye. Hector is Beithir, I'm Lightning, Murdoch is Thunder, Iain is Sea, David is Rock, Angus is Shadow. You're Lion. Her signs are dead useful in communications to disguise identities, and on missions when we need to communicate with each other but need to be silent."

All sobriquets from reports sent to Mowbray, describing the members of the team Hector assembled and their actions in aiding him in prison and against the Wolf. Wonder began to wash over him. She had come up with that too? Calum kept talking, oblivious to his shock.

"…So we're joking around and Iain says, ‘What do we call you?' And she climbs this tree—fifty feet in the air she's flipping, turning, cartwheeling, tumbling, hanging backwards, swinging from one branch to the other. Then she shows us how she can jump from tree to tree like a squirrel. Aye, Laird MacLean looked just like you. He's screamin' at her the whole time and she's just as calm as ever, launching herself heels over head, no hands. Finally she drops back down in front of us. Then starts this repertoire of bird whistles, songs, calls."

A mystery within the missives began to unravel in his mind. Calum made the motion of the same chicken beak she had made with Léo in prison, but instead of pecking at the ground it warbled. "Birdy."

Léo's heart sank. "The Bird? She's the Bird? A member of the Shield? A woman."

Calum nodded. "Aye. She wanted to take your place until you returned, she wanted to fight for what you believed in. "

"She saved Duart?"

"Aye."

A memory of her darkened fingers drumming on the table lit in his mind. "She destroyed the Wolf's trebuchet?"

"Aye."

"And now she's destroyed the supplies for the Wolf's patrols?"

Calum nodded, a note of defense in his voice. "The ones that attacked Sanaigmore on Islay last month and murdered fifty of Angus's clan—men, women, and children. Ye ken?"

Out of all the sobriquets mentioned in the reports, none had done more in the past year to support the Shield and protect the Isles than the Bird. Admiration and fear gripped his heart. "She's the most wanted agent in the Isles."

Calum's face became sober. "Aye. And she's done it all for you."

Léo burst with fear and frustration. "I didn't ask her to do that. I want her safe. I don't want her putting herself at risk. How could Hector allow it?"

"Because she's exceptional. Hector has a soft spot for her because she has such a good heart and she is the best at what she does. She's a born warrior. Like she was made to save you."

"I don't want her to save me. I wanted to save her, but she could have run anytime, she didn't need me to save her."

"Aye, she could've run, but she chose to stay. To help you. And believe me, you needed her."

Envy ate away at him. Calum and Moira had become battle partners and knew each other's strengths and weaknesses, like Hector and he knew each other. "Perhaps she's stayed behind to help you and spend time with you."

Calum's whole demeanor changed. "You think I wouldn't take her in a second if she'd look my way? I would. She's incredible, brave, funny, and she looks amazing in leather trews." Léo glowered. He didn't want Calum thinking about her trews. "But she can only think of you. For months it's all she'll talk about, though she thinks she hides it from us. We all know she cares for you. Of course she doesnae wan' Niall's toady lips on her. And she doesnae wan' me even though I am not at all toady. She wants you. You mean eejit. "

A beam of hope illuminated the dark. Was that why she still wore his necklace? She still felt they belonged to each other?

A note of defense flooded into Calum's voice. "You may not want her taking risks, but no man that's ever seen her work would ever make her stop. There's a fire inside her, and away wi' you if you put it out." He stomped back into the cottage.

Léo stared at the stars for long minutes, no longer sure of who she was. He thought he had discovered every mystery in her, but he had only discovered a few qualities of her heart. She was the complete opposite of Théa, more than he ever thought.

A voice he hadn't heard since leaving Cràdh spoke clear and loud into his heart. You have crushed one of my dear ones.

Remorse bogged him down, sucking him into suffocating shame. In anger, he'd ignored God and gone in his own strength. He'd been given the gift of her heart and he had trodden it into the ground and belittled her. He'd been cruel like his brothers. He'd been crude instead of simply asking her to explain. He had claimed her as his own and then shoved her away when she'd done nothing to deserve it. The idea of facing her made him sick.

When he finally gathered his courage and went back inside, she was positioning Calum's wet clothes in front of the hearth next to her own. Dressed in a chemise, her blond curls drying over her shoulders, the smell of lavender hung thick in the air. Delicate yet strong. She was the Bird, and he was a total and utter fool. For a moment Léo was carried away, love for all that she'd done spilling out of his soul.

Noticing him staring, she turned, face determined.

He took her hand. "Moira? I'm?—"

Jerking her hand away, she pulled his heavy gold chain over her head catching the thick, damp waves of her hair. And she shoved it, forcefully, back over his head.