CLAIMED BY A HIGHLANDER (THE DOUGLAS LEGACY Book 2) (16 page)

“I should have been there,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “I could have prevented this. I know I could have.”

In his grief, Rory kept repeating the same words, over and over.

Sybil went to stand beside him and rested her hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“’Tis my fault he’s dead,” he said. “I failed him.”

“You’re not to blame. He was a grown man,” she said, attempting to soothe him. “He made his own decisions.”

“Ye don’t understand.” Rory turned fierce eyes on her and thumped his fist against his chest as he said, “It was
my
duty to protect him.”

He got up and stormed out of the cottage. When Sybil started to follow him, Grizel held her arm in a surprisingly strong grip.

“Give the lad a bit of time,” Grizel said. “He’s had a bad shock.”

“Trust my wife on this, lass,” Malcolm said, nodding. “We’ve known Rory since he was a babe.”

“We didn’t give the lad a chance to tell us anything about you.” Grizel eyed Sybil up and down. “So who are ye to our Rory?”

“I’m…I’m…” Sybil hesitated, not sure how to describe herself in a way that would explain her traveling alone with Rory.

She could see from Grizel’s sour expression that the woman’s opinion of her was sinking lower the longer Sybil failed to answer. Though Sybil normally could spout white lies when the situation called for it, she found herself unable to lie to this old couple who were obviously very fond of Rory.

Finally she settled on, “Rory signed a marriage contract to wed me.”

That was true as far as it went. She could not very well tell them the full truth—that the contract was a fraud and Rory did not know it.

“You’re Rory’s bride?” Malcolm said.

Again, Sybil could not bring herself to lie outright, so she smiled and let them draw their own conclusions.

“Well then, Rory won’t have to sleep with the cow tonight after all,” his wife said. “The two of ye can share the loft.”

“They won’t be staying the night,” Malcolm said. “Rory will want to be on his way to Castle Leod.”

Sybil glanced over her shoulder toward the door, wondering if it was too soon to go to him. “Why does Rory blame himself for his brother’s death? He wasn’t even there.”

“Brian was a kindhearted lad, well liked by all,” Grizel said as she resumed stirring the pot that hung over the hearth fire. “But he was too trusting by half. Rory was always the strong one.”

“I don’t like speaking ill of the dead, but Brian never had the makings of a chieftain.” Malcolm found his pipe on the table, lit it with a bit of kindling he held over the hearth fire, and sat down again. “If Rory had wanted it, I believe the clan would have chosen him over Brian when their father died, but Rory always insisted that the chieftainship rightly belonged to Brian.”

“Loyal to a fault, that one.” The old woman pointed her wooden spoon at Sybil. “That suited Hector. He knew he could control Brian.”

“The two lads were only fifteen when their father died. Hector, as the closest adult kinsman and a man of great experience, was given the role of tutor to the young chieftain,” Malcolm said around the pipe clenched between his teeth. “After Brian came of age, Hector continued to hold the reins.”

“And Brian let him,” his wife put in. “That’s what caused the strife between the two brothers.”

“Ach, Rory will have a fight on his hands now,” Malcolm said.

“What fight is that?” Sybil asked, though she thought she knew.

“To take his place as the next MacKenzie chieftain.” Malcolm paused to draw on his pipe. “After years of ruling in Brian’s name, Hector won’t let go easily.”

“Rory has the better claim,” Grizel said, “being both Brian’s heir and his father’s eldest living son.”

Sybil struggled to absorb the news that Rory was about to become chieftain of a powerful Highland clan.

This changed everything.

As chieftain, Rory’s marriage choice would have far greater consequences than it would as a chief’s younger half-brother. His marriage must be a carefully chosen alliance for the benefit of his clan. While she was confident he would protect her as his guest, he could no longer offer her the choice of marriage. He would put his duty to his clan first, as he ought.

Rory would be grateful to her for understanding why he must destroy their marriage contract—and she would never have to hurt his pride by telling him that her brothers had made a fool of him.

“If Rory is to claim his rightful place—and keep it,” Malcolm said, drawing Sybil from her own thoughts, “he must outwit a sly and ruthless opponent who has succeeded in deceiving most of the clan for years.”

While there were a great many things Sybil needed to learn about surviving in the Highlands, she was well-versed in the games men played for power. She had observed them from a close vantage all her life.

She thought she left all that behind when she escaped with a wild Highland warrior. Her warrior, however, turned out to be a chieftain. Or he soon would be. After Rory had done so much for her, there was finally something she could do for him. She could help him win this power struggle with his uncle,
if he would let her.

She had tried so hard to save her brother from the miscalculations that led to his downfall, but he would never listen to her. She shook off the bitter memory. No matter, she was determined to help Rory outwit his uncle. She would learn all she could about the players in this new game and be ready.

What he needed now, however, was the comfort of a friend, so she left the older couple and went outside. She found Rory sitting on a log overlooking the stream that ran by the cottage. She went to stand behind him.

“I’m here,” she said,
and draped her arms around his neck.

He clasped her hand where it rested across his chest. They remained silent for a time, watching the water ripple over the rocks in the river.

“We have to leave,” Rory said.
“With luck, we’ll have at least a couple of days before Hector learns of Brian’s death.”

“Where will we go?” Sybil asked.

“To Castle Leod in Eastern Ross.”

“Malcolm said that’s where you’d go,” Sybil said. “Why there?”

“My father built Castle Leod on the base of an ancient fort and made it the home of the MacKenzie chieftains.” Rory paused. “That’s where the clan will choose our next chieftain
.”

“Then you’ve decided to do it? To become the MacKenzie?”

“There’s no one else who can stop Hector,” he said. “A chieftain must have chieftain’s blood. My younger brother is a priest, so that leaves only me and Hector.”

“Are ye certain ye want this?” A sudden fear for him seized her heart. “There’s always a price to be paid. My brother tried to rule all of Scotland, and now he’s living in exile.”

“I never wanted this,” Rory said. “I admit I was frustrated with my brother at times, but I only ever wanted to help him be a better chieftain.”

“All the same, you’ll fight your uncle for the chieftainship?”

“Hector is attacking our neighboring clans and turning our allies against us,” Rory said. “That is a dangerous path that will anger the crown and weaken our clan against our greatest enemy, the MacDonalds. I cannot let that happen.”

Hector did not sound so very different from her brother Archie, who fought a bloody battle in the streets of Edinburgh to gain power and instead caused the downfall of his family and clan.

When they returned to the cottage, Malcolm and his wife were waiting outside for them.

“Ye must set aside your grief, son,” Malcolm said. “The clan needs ye, and we need ye now.”

“I will do my duty.” Rory gripped Malcolm’s shoulder. “I swear to you on the blood of my father and brother that I will defeat Hector and take my place as the MacKenzie.”

“I know ye will succeed,” Malcolm said. “You’ll need as many clansmen at Castle Leod to support ye as we can muster. I’ll send my sons and grandsons to spread the word among those we can trust.”

“When the time is right, we’ll need them to light the fires to call the clan to the gathering at Castle Leod,” Rory said. “Meet me at Killin at…”

Sybil wanted to listen to the rest of their plan, but Malcolm’s wife took her arm and pulled her inside the cottage.

“Many will say that you’re a poor choice for Rory’s wife, being a Lowlander,” Grizel said.

Sybil already knew that too well. If the woman was going to lecture her, she wished she’d be quick.

“But I disagree,” Grizel said. “Hector consorts with demons. To fight him, Rory could use a lass at his side who has the protection of the faeries.”

“The faeries?” Sybil raised her eyebrows. When Grizel pointed at Sybil’s throat, her hand went to the pendant her mother had given her.

“That stone holds powerful magic,” Grizel said. “Never take it off.”

Sybil ran her thumb over the smooth, polished surface. Malcolm’s wife made her nervous.

“Your heart is burdened with lies,” Grizel said, which made Sybil almost jump out of her skin. “But I believe ye mean to help our Rory.”

“I do want to help him.” Sybil could barely get out the words.

“Aye,” the old woman said, nodding to herself. “When ye look at him, the air around ye turns a shimmering blue.”

Sybil stifled the urge to make the sign of the cross for fear of insulting the older woman. Before she could ask what the blue glow meant, Grizel thrust a cloth bag that smelled of fish into her hands.

“For your supper,” the older woman said. “Now, don’t keep your man waiting.”

“Thank you and God bless,” Sybil said.

Rory was already mounted when she went outside, and he pulled her up behind him.

“We’ll meet at Killin,” Rory said.

“Until then, keep your sword sharp,
ceann-cinnidh,
”
chieftain
, Malcolm called out and raised his fist as they rode off.

CHAPTER 17

Sybil’s heart ached for Rory. Sensing he did not wish to speak, she simply rested her head against his back and held him close as they rode in silence.

When it grew too dark to ride, they made camp in the shelter of a large boulder near the winding river that ran through the valley.
Sybil’s frozen feet prickled as the heat from their small fire seeped through her boots while they ate the supper of smoked kippers and oatcakes that Malcolm’s wife had packed for them.

Sybil drew her cloak up to her chin against the wind and watched the night clouds blowing across the moon. Rory put his arm around her and wrapped the extra blanket around them both.

The misery in his hollow eyes made her stomach hurt. Was it only this morning that he had been so happy and proud at the prospect of showing her Eilean Donan?

“I’m sorry we’re living rough again tonight,” he said.

“I don’t mind,” she said. “’Tis hardly raining and blowing at all, so I’d call this a bonny night to sleep outdoors.”

Rory lifted a tendril of her hair and twirled it around his finger. “I promised ye a hot bath and servants to wait on ye.”

“With so much weighing on your shoulders, ye shouldn’t trouble yourself over my lack of a hot bath.” She tilted her head. “Or do I smell that bad?”

Her effort to cheer him was rewarded with a brief smile, but his eyes soon clouded again. She leaned her head against his shoulder and wished she knew how to comfort him.

“I can’t understand why Brian took the risk of leaving the protection of MacKenzie lands to travel to Edinburgh,” Rory said. “It was not in his nature to act rashly.”

“Then he must have had a good reason,” Sybil said.

“I need to know what that reason was.” Rory clenched his fist. “Brian died because of it.”

“Didn’t Malcolm say Brian went to see your sister before he left for Edinburgh?” she said. “Perhaps he told her.”

“Perhaps,” Rory said. “In any case, I must see Catriona and break this sad news to her. She lives at Killin, the property I inherited from my mother. It’s just a few miles from Castle Leod.”

“We have a plan now.” Sybil brushed Rory’s hair back from his forehead with her fingers. “There’s nothing more ye can do tonight. Try to save your worries for tomorrow.”

When Rory turned and their gazes locked, the raw need in his eyes made her breath catch. Men had wanted her before, but not like this. The strength of his hunger was a bit frightening—and all the more thrilling for it.

Before she could make her mind work and figure out what she wanted to do about it, he broke their gaze and stood.

“’Tis been a long day,” he said. “Ye should get your rest.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not ready to sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep yet either,” she said, and clasped his hand before he could walk away.

Sybil had made up her mind. She was not going to argue with herself about it anymore. Rory needed her, and tonight she wanted to be whatever he needed.

“Lie with me,” she said.

“I don’t know if I can sleep beside ye tonight and not touch ye like I want to,” he said in a strained voice. “I need ye too much.”