Dragon Knight's Axe (26 page)

“Wine will do,” said Alastair reaching for the mug. Suddenly, Stephen’s words slammed into his mind. “
Wife
?” he sputtered.

“Aye. On Midsummer. A child due in February.”

Alastair blinked and looked at Duncan.

“And Brigid is my wife as of the past Winter Solstice. Our children,
adopted
, are the young lass, Nell, whom ye have met, and Finn. Ye can usually find the lad in the stables with Tiernan.”

Alastair drained his mug, searching for the pitcher. He got no further when Stephen poured him a hefty amount. Downing it quickly, he staggered over to a chair.

Words failed him.

A sharp rap at the door brought him out of his shock. Watching as Duncan opened it, his mouth fell open as two beautiful women entered. One with auburn tresses and green eyes swept into the room; the other, silver blonde hair with eyes that made him stop breathing, for they reminded him of another.

Margaret.

Standing, he leaned against the table for support.

“Alastair, this is my wife, Brigid,” said Duncan placing a protective arm around her.

“And this is Aileen,” stated Stephen, “my wife.”

He nodded at both of them. “Brigid. Aileen.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Brigid broke free from Duncan and went to embrace Alastair. “It’s so good to finally meet another brother.”

She kept babbling, and Alastair had a difficult time following her language. She sounded vaguely like another. Then his eyes went wide. Grabbing her, he asked, “Where did ye travel from?”

Smiling up at him, she answered, “It’s a very long story, but the short version?”

He nodded his head for her to continue.

“About eight hundred years. From a land yet to be discovered.”

Alastair cocked his head to the side, gazing at Aileen. “And ye?”

“The same.”

Releasing Brigid, he stared into Aileen’s eyes. Swallowing, he took a few steps back and glanced at Stephen. “Fae?”

“Really?” She crossed her arms across her chest in mock indignation. “Must I explain each time I meet a MacKay brother?” she protested.

Alastair shrugged.

She glared at him. “Only part Fae. On my father’s side.”

Stephen coughed into his hand when he added, “Father was a Fenian warrior.”

Stunned, Alastair pointed a finger at Stephen, but kept his gaze on Aileen. “And your father let ye marry him?”

“My father died saving us,” Aileen uttered softly. She walked over to Stephen as he put his arm around her.

“My apologies, Aileen,” replied Alastair. “There is much I do not understand, which I am surely going to hear all.”

“Alastair is correct,” stated Duncan. “However, I would ken what enemy is after ye, so that we may prepare for any attacks.”

Refilling his mug, Alastair met Duncan’s gaze boldly. “I was captured and tortured by the MacFhearguis laird. Fiona and I escaped with the help of Patrick. Yet, the man sought us out trying to take his revenge.” He paused and took a deep swill. “In the end, I killed Michael MacFhearguis.”

A hushed silence fell over the room.

Duncan was the first to move. Clamping a hand on Alastair’s shoulder, he said, “Ye might want to give us as many details as possible.”

“The man was wild.” Tapping a finger to his head, he added, “Not right in the head. What more do ye need to know?” Alastair clipped out.

“I fear we will need to hear it all, since I will have to explain it to the
new
laird of Leomhann, who at present is sitting in the great hall.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Do not twist the truth to please others, or the many lies will bury you.”

Slamming his fist on the table, several mugs toppled over spilling their contents. “By all that is holy,
why
? Could ye not have spared him?” demanded Alex.

Alastair remained seated. “Would ye have me keep walking as your brother attempted to kill
me
—
again
.”

“Patrick could have stopped him,” he clipped out.

Shaking his head, he stood slowly. “He would not have been satisfied until blood was shed. Dinnae forget, he held me prisoner and beat me. And let us not forget Fiona. If your brother had not walked in, Michael would have raped her. Pray tell me, Alex, why should I have spared his life?”

“Ye ken naught of what has come to pass here. Our brother was being controlled—used by a vile druid.”

Alastair arched a brow. “As Patrick told me.” He cast a glance at Duncan, who had remained quiet. Taking a calmer tone, he turned back to Alex, and added, “If ye were in my place, what would ye have done?”

A muscle twitched in Alex’s jaw. Finally, shoulders sagging, he slumped down in his chair. “Will this ever end?” he muttered.

“Aye,” Duncan cut in. “When the
bastard
, Lachlan, is dead. Until that day, we must band together.”

Alastair could feel the chill of Duncan’s words as the mood in the room changed. They each had suffered horrifically from this druid. Even he could not escape the clutches of this demon. His thoughts turned to Fiona, and he was anxious to return to his chambers. Rubbing his forehead, he tried to shake the pain behind his eyes.

Duncan stood. “I believe the hour is late. We can discuss further plans in the morn.”

“Nae,” replied Alex, reaching for his sword. “I shall depart before dawn to bury my laird.”

Stephen pushed away from the wall where he had been standing quietly. “I am sorry for your loss, Alex.”

“If Lachlan is not stopped, I fear we will be burying more of our kin,” stated Alex.

Alastair watched as the man turned and strode out the door. He turned to his brothers. “I fear he is correct. Does no one ken where this man is?”

Stephen ran his fingers through his hair in irritation. “The druid council is working on it as we speak. Lachlan is as slimy as an eel and verra deadly.”

Aileen walked in with others trailing behind her. She carried a trencher with several bowls of steaming liquid. Setting the items on the table, Alastair’s stomach growled fiercely. Hesitant to ask what was in the soup, he waited.

Smiling, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a vegetable and turnip soup. Stephen told me of your
eating habits
, since you don’t eat meat. The broth is my own concoction made from carrots and onions. Bread filled with cheese and Delia’s version of gingerbread.” She peeked over her shoulder at Delia and then whispered, “We’re doing battle over the cheesy bread. She’s not pleased that I’ve stuffed it inside.”

Alastair could not help but return the smile, and squeezed her hand in thanks.

Stephen reached out to snag a piece of the bread, but Aileen smacked his hand away. “This is for Alastair. If you want some, you know where to find it, and honey, too.” Giving him a wink, she sauntered out of the hall.

“So ye are still fond of the honey,” said Alastair between bites of the soup.

“He raids the larder weekly,” chuckled Duncan as he poured some wine into a mug for each of them.

Downing the contents of the mug, Duncan reached for the pitcher of wine to take with him. “I will leave ye to your meal, Alastair. Get some rest.”

Alastair waited until he was out of sight in the hall. “Is Brigid not well?” Alastair asked, reaching for his mug.

Stephen grimaced. “Nae. Why?”

Alastair tore a piece of bread and dunked it into his soup. “She did not see me when I overheard her speaking with Matilda asking for some herbs and clutching her sides. Is she with child?”

Letting out a deep sigh, Stephen leaned back in his chair and twirled the wine in his mug. “Brigid cannae have children. She was injured in a battle by Lachlan and died.”

“What?” Alastair choked on some bread.

“It is true. She died in Duncan’s arms.”

“But how?” he asked stunned.

“The Guardian let her return. There were conditions that only she and Duncan ken. She did tell Aileen that she was given a choice. And to answer your question, there are times when her wound gives her trouble.”

“And Aileen?”

“When her father was injured and I feared for her safety, I sent her back to her own time during a battle.”

“Sent her back?”

“Aye. With a Fenian warrior, by the name of Liam MacGregor.”

“Another MacGregor.” Alastair spat out the name.

“Ye ken of another?”

“
Rory
. He watched over Fiona. Yet, she is from Navan in Ireland—of this time. The warrior sent her to the future for protection on the request of her family.”

Stephen’s hand stilled on the mug. “Sweet Mother Danu,” he muttered.

“Agreed. How did Aileen return?”

“Well, my beloved has her own power of traveling through the veil. A gift from her father’s blood. She is part Fae. Her father was Aidan Kerrigan, one of the oldest Fae warriors.”

“By the hounds! Truly? I remember the bards telling his tale often. I am sorry to hear of his death. He was the only Fenian warrior deemed worthy of my respect.”

“He was a great warrior, Alastair. And it was a privilege to fight beside him.” Rubbing his chin, he added, “He throws a mighty punch as well.”

Alastair smiled. “Ye must save that story for another day.” Rising, he started to walk out of the hall when Stephen’s words halted him.

“Ye do understand your relic must be cleansed.”

Alastair had hoped to avoid that particular discussion. Without looking at his brother, he replied, “I have not made any decision regarding my axe.” He quickly proceeded to walk out of the room, but not before he heard Stephen utter a soft curse.

****

A soft whimper woke Alastair from his place by the hearth. Opening his eyes, he spotted Merlin by Fiona’s side—a lone sentinel keeping watch. Four days had passed, and she lay as still as the first day he placed her in his bed.

Tossing off the furs, he stood, and stretched out the knots. The dog glanced his way, but returned his sight back to Fiona. Letting out a sigh, he strode over to her side, giving a few pats to the dog. Feeling Fiona’s head, he found it cool and was relieved. They had feared a fever would settle in her and make it harder for her to heal. Refusing to leave her side, he had taken his meals in his chamber. He wanted his face to be the first she saw when she opened her eyes. However, each day that slipped by without that happening, filled him with apprehension, as he feared he was slowly losing her.

He refused to believe it.

Walking over to the table, he splashed some water on his face to clear the sleep away and pushed the anxiety out of his thoughts. He braced his hands on the table and peered out at the new day. A few clouds were scattered here and there threatening rain, yet, the day held a promise of warmth.

“Och, Fiona, will today be the day ye return to me? I cannae begin to tell ye how Molly is yearning for ye.” Strolling over, he picked up her hand. “She is refusing to let anyone ride her, and here I thought she was a gentle animal. The horse surely misses ye. And then there is Merlin.” Alastair watched as the dog snapped his head up when he heard his name spoken. “I have to drag him out of this room, so that he can tend to his business. The rascal has lost his heart to ye. Also, there is the hoard of other animals that are paying court to ye. Several cats and once, one of Nell’s baby owls managed to make its way to our chamber.” He kissed her hand tenderly. “Are ye calling out to them?”

A soft knock echoed against the door, followed by Brigid entering, which stopped his ramblings.

“It’s good that you are speaking to her, Alastair. They say, well, in my time, the healers tell us that those in a coma,
deep sleep
, can sometimes still hear us. It helps them.”

He looked away. “Or they get so tired of hearing us they leave.”

Placing her hands on her hips, she glared at him. “That’s not funny.”

“Not meant to be,” he stated moving from the bed.

“Ye need to leave,” interrupted Matilda as she stepped into the room. She swept past him to lay a hand on Fiona’s brow.

“When she wakes.”

“Ye will not stay while we bathe and clean her bedding, Alastair MacKay.” She shuffled past him. “When I return, ye will not be in this room.”

Narrowing his eyes at her retreating form, he glanced at Brigid. She had a fist over her mouth trying to prevent the laughter from coming forth.

“You could use a bath, too,” she finally said.

Groaning, he rolled his eyes upward. “I will return within the hour.”

She walked over to him. “Bathe, eat, and then head to the lists. Duncan will meet you there.”

He eyed her skeptically. “Ye are verra bossy. Has anyone told ye so?”

“
All the time
.”

Holding back his own mirth, he placed a kiss on Fiona’s head. When he reached the door, he hesitated. “Why did the Guardian give ye a choice?”

A shadow of pain crossed her face, and Alastair felt cruel for asking. Finally, when she did speak, her voice was low. “Because she deemed me worthy. My injuries were so severe that if I stayed here in this time, healers would not be able to heal my womb. Yet, she told me if I should wish to return to my own time, they would be able to mend my wounds. I would be able to bear children.”

Leaning against the door for support, he asked, “Ye chose a life without children?”

“I
chose
a life with
Duncan
. For a life without him would never heal the wound in my heart,” she answered with unshed tears. “Besides, I have two beautiful children. I am blessed in so many ways, Alastair.”

“Duncan is a verra fortunate man. Thank ye for telling me.”

“I hope it helps in your…
quest
.”

Frowning, he meant to ask her what she meant when Nell came running into the chamber.

“Mother, I cannae find Whiskers,” she whined.

Before Brigid could respond, Alastair held up his hand. “I believe I ken where the cat is hiding away.” Stepping over to Fiona, he pulled back her covers. Sure enough, there was Whiskers curled up beside her.

“Whiskers,” cooed Nell. The cat stretched and padded over to the girl. Scooping her up, she brushed kisses along her head. “Ye gave me a fright.”