Dragon Knight's Ring (Order of the Dragon Knights Book 5) (2 page)

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Aye, a brawn lad to be sure, but a man ye are not.”

“And what would a lass so young ken the difference between a lad and a man?”

Her face turned the color of roses, and Adam regretted the teasing barb. Turning to face him, she smiled beguilingly, and his heart slammed inside his chest. “Well, I do have four older brothers, and they have many male friends.”

He arched a brow and moved closer to her. Seeing her eyes grow wide and her blush deepen, he lifted his hand and heard her indrawn breath when he removed a leaf from her hair. “Ahh…pray tell me the difference.”

Those beautiful lavender eyes, the color of heather on a gray day, narrowed at his playful jest. Jabbing a finger into his chest, she pushed him backward. “The difference is, a lad would dare to ask the question, and a man would show me.”

She quickly stepped aside, and Adam grasped her hand. “Has another shown ye?”

“And yet again, the lad asks a question.” Her laughter rang out across the meadow.

Bringing her palm to his lips, he placed a feather-light kiss within, inhaling her scent—a mix of sweet flowers on a warm summer day. Releasing her hand, he walked on shaky limbs to the horse.

“Where are ye taking him?” she asked softly.

Adam kept on moving, praying the lass would follow. “To the loch.”

“I think I shall join ye. He is still restless and may require a calm voice.”

Smiling fully, Adam only nodded.

And in that quiet moment, Adam knew there would be no other. Not only had Margaret MacKay enchanted the horse, she had also stolen his heart in the process.

“Why did ye let her die?” His anguished demand uttered out to the heavens. “Ye took the best of me!”

Thunder rolled in the distance, and Adam raised a fist at the God of the storms. “Ye are no longer my God. I spit on ye!” When lightning grazed a nearby tree, Adam spread his arms out wide. “I am right here. Take aim anywhere.”

The ground rumbled beneath him, but he kept his stance steady. “I dinnae fear ye! Do ye hear me? I have forsaken ye all!” he shouted.

When hail pelted him, he closed his eyes but lifted his face to the pounding ordeal. “Ye cannae harm me, for I live daily with the agony of her loss. Even death will
not
bring me peace.”

Within moments, the rain ceased, and the winds subsided to a gentle breeze. Adam wiped the water from his face, opened his eyes, and glanced to his right, seeing the shimmering rainbow over the place of that horrific night—the standing stones. The sacred space where Meggie and he sought to pledge their troth. It was to be a day of new beginnings.

Yet, shared dreams of a happy life, far away from his brothers and hers, turned into a nightmarish scene, where in the end, he watched her die as the darkness claimed him from his own injuries. The last words on his lips were of love, and he prayed she heard his pledge.

In truth, Adam’s real nightmare began when he woke the next morn. Gone were her brothers. Gone was the woman he treasured more than life itself. The guttural cry that broke free from him shook the forest—birds flew off and animals darted away. His grief so raw, he wanted to end his life there among the stones.

His life was naught, if she was no longer in this world.

As he groped about for his blade, his fingers brushed over the small swatch of tapestry she had stitched for them. She had wanted to drape it around their joined hands as a sign of unity—the MacFhearguis and MacKay. A united clan. Adam had clutched the material to his chest, tears streaming down his face.

Nae, he would not take his life today. He would let fate decide.

In the months that followed, he found solace in the words of a traveling priest. He spoke of the one true belief—the one God of love and forgiveness. In their time together, he asked many questions. Could the one God forgive him for failing Margaret? He told the priest he deemed himself unworthy to accept Christ’s loving embrace. Adam believed he had to earn this new belief. When questioned, the priest told him about the Crusades. A battle of old and new fought in a foreign land. A chance to purge the old pagan ways with what the servant of this new God called Christianity.

And on one glorious spring day in 1205, Adam silently left his home, Castle Leomhann, to travel as a Crusader. His hope was to wipe away the stain of Margaret’s death with a penance of poverty and prayer. He would journey in the name of this Christ and seek forgiveness.

However, the Crusades brought their own hideous nightmare—one of greed and corruption, and it sickened him.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the past, Adam blinked, casting his sight once again on the rainbow.

“Ye always understood in the magic of these colors, my Meggie.” His voice shook with emotion as he fought a familiar wave of despair.

Feeling the prod on his shoulder, Adam looked over his shoulder. “Aye, Ciar, ye foul smelling beast. I ken ye have had your fill of my miserable mood. Ye should ken I would have felt the pain of her loss more keenly here.”

His warhorse snickered softly and pawed the ground with its hoof.

Clutching his cross once again, Adam lifted his head to the rainbow. “I pray there are many rainbows for ye to gaze upon in Heaven, Meggie.”

With a heavy sigh, he mounted his horse and moved along toward Castle Leomhann.

Hours later, Adam passed over the bridge to his former home. Pausing briefly at the gates, he chose to remain silent and waited until one of the guards recognized him. This was not the return of the honored brother—only one who wished to make his peace and leave this place filled with ghosts, as quickly as possible. He did not favor a welcome of rousing cheers, so when the guard, Ross, came to the gate, Adam showed his clan colors. The old guard knew him well and waved him onward.

Adam’s mount ambled along slowly through the bailey, onward to the stables. As he dismounted, a young lad of no more than ten came rushing forward.

“Are ye the MacFhearguis they are searching for?” The lad’s eyes went wide as he gazed at Adam and back to his great warhorse.

“Searching? Who would search for me?” His response was almost a growl, and the boy took a few steps back.

“’Tis your…br…brothers,” stammered the boy.

Closing his eyes, Adam tempered the anger beginning to rise. It was always thus when he was around his kin. He was the youngest brother. His voice—his opinion never important enough for Michael, the oldest, to hear. His
laird
always deemed it best for him to remain silent. Aye, his other brothers, Alex and Patrick, may have listened to Adam, but there were times when they urged him not to argue with their laird.

“And where might I find my brothers?” Adam asked in a much calmer tone.

“They have not returned,” interjected Calum walking up alongside the young lad. He placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Why don’t ye take Adam’s horse into the stables, Donald.”

Adam meant to object to the boy taking his horse, however, Calum gave him a stern look of warning before he could utter a retort. “Be wary of his right side, for he cannae see well out of his eye.”

“Was he injured in battle?” asked Donald as he gripped the reins.

“Aye, one too many.” He watched the young boy slowly lead Ciar away, all the while whistling a soft tune.

“Dinnae fear. The lad has a way with the animals. It reminds me of another young boy from long ago.” The man Adam had ken since childhood spoke again.

“I am no longer that boy.”

Calum shifted slightly. “Nae. He died many moons ago.” The old man sighed heavily and clasped Adam’s shoulder. “’Tis good to have ye back home. Now, go wash the muck from your travels and eat. I will look after Ciar. Ye both have the look of hell hounds after a battle.” Giving Adam a small smile, he walked away.

Adam rubbed a hand over his weary face, stopping to scratch at a beard that sorely needed to come off. As he strode toward the entrance of the castle, many paused in their duties to give him a nod, smile, or salute. Grateful that none engaged him in conversation, his steps quickened, and he hastily made it inside and up the stairs. Upon reaching his chambers, Adam entered and bolted the door behind him. Glancing around, he noticed that all was the same as he remembered the last day before he left for the Crusades with Father Belton.

Dust and cobwebs hung near the windows, and the dampness of the room matched his mood within. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to breathe evenly.
What were ye thinking coming back here? The memories are rife of times with her. Ye should have fled north to the Isles.
Upon those thoughts came another.
Why was his room not clean? He had been gone for several years.

Pounding the wall with his fist, Adam moved toward the window. Swiping at the wispy cobwebs, he cast his gaze out to the hills. Sunlight danced off the wet trees, yet dark clouds loomed nearby. He knew what lay beyond—the standing stones. A place where he would bury the past. Say one last good-bye and never return.

The standing stones called out to him along with Meggie’s ghost.

He leaned against the cold wall for support. “I cannae live in a place where your laughter surrounds me, or where your face is what I see in the soft grasses waving in a nearby meadow. Nae. I must leave ye here. I beg ye will forgive me, my bonny Meggie.”

Hearing a soft rap on his door, Adam moved away from the wall and his misery. Upon opening the door, the steward, Drostan, entered carrying several tunics and trews. No sooner did he cross the threshold than a young woman brought in a pitcher and a number of mugs. She placed them on his table and quickly departed the room.

The older man smiled warmly. “Your brothers will be pleased to ken ye have returned home. I shall fetch someone to clean and light a fire in your chamber.” Placing the clothing on the bed, he gave Adam a slight nod. “Anice has heard of your presence and is preparing your favorite foods. Ye should see all the bustling about in the kitchens. The tub off the kitchens is being filled for your bath.”

Adam grimaced. “I thank ye for bringing me fresh clothing, but ye did not have to do so. My brothers may rejoice in my return, but I shall not be staying long.”

Drostan frowned in confusion. “They have been distraught over your absence. Many moons have we all seen their anguish. They searched the Highlands for some time looking for ye.”

“Humph!” Moving to the table, Adam filled his mug. “How is the
laird
these days?”

“Ye have not heard the news?” asked a stunned Drostan.

“What? Did he finally marry?” Intent on quenching his thirst, he barely heard Drostan’s next response.

“Your brother, Michael, is dead.”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Adam stumbled to the chair by the hearth. Drostan fetched the pitcher and refilled the mug Adam still held.

“When?”

“Och, twelve moons.”

“Sweet Mother Mary,” he rasped out. He may have disliked his older brother—his laird, but he was his kin. Blood of the same blood, and the blow of this knowledge left an ache within his heart. Adam glanced up at the steward. “How?”

Drostan’s lips thinned, and he moved to the table, setting the pitcher down. “Ye should speak with your brothers when they return. They will be here on the morrow.”

Adam stood slowly. “But I am asking ye.”

“There is much ye dinnae understand. ’Tis not my place to tell ye. Your brothers will tell ye all.”

“Ye cannae expect me to hear such news and
not
give me an account of my brother’s death. If ye choose not to tell me, I shall find another to recount the details.” Adam glared at the man, trying to keep his fury in check.

“By the hand of Alastair MacKay.”

Adam flung his mug across the room. “Is the MacKay dead, as well? Did my brothers avenge his death?”

“He lives, but Michael’s death was justified.”

“Justified?” roared Adam. “By all that’s holy, what in the hell do ye mean? The MacKays should all be dead! The very air they breathe is tainted by their infernal lives.”

Drostan shook his head slowly. “Again, there is much ye need to hear from your brothers. The MacKays were not to blame.”

Fisting his hands on his hips, Adam looked at the steward as if he had lost his mind. “Can ye not explain further?”

“Nae, I will not.” Without giving Adam a chance to respond, Drostan left the chamber.

“Is everyone mad?” he shouted. He walked over and retrieved his mug off the floor. Reaching for the pitcher, he filled it to the brim and drank deeply. Adams’s hand shook, his rage so great. “All the MacKays should rot in the fires of hell,” he growled.

Taking the pitcher with him, he left his chambers and ascended the narrow passageway leading to the parapet. He had no desire to be around the others. He feared he would lash out with words or worse a blade.

Pushing open the massive oak door, he was greeted once again with an icy, brittle rain. And Adam embraced the sting of torment.

Chapter Two

“If you hear the call of the raven, be wary of her song of war.”

Screams filled his head as he blocked another blow from the enemy. They were without mercy as they swung their blades, hacking at anyone who dared to cross their path. Dust and smoke clouded his vision, while he searched for the other Templar Knights. He tried in vain, screaming out in Latin and French, so that they may ken help was near, but stifling heat made it difficult to breathe, and his words came out garbled. Adam shouted once again—this time in his own language, so his friends would ken it was him and not the enemy.

Yet, when he moved forward, slashing his way through the enemy, he stumbled upon the slaughtered bodies of the men he called friends. Heads severed from their shoulders and clothing shredded from their corpses. The blood pooled around them in a grisly river of red. “Nae!” he roared, clutching his head and stumbling away. The stench of death filled him. His stomach lurched, and he emptied what little he had in it against the wall.

Groaning, Adam opened his eyes and blinked in confusion—pushing aside the remnants of the nightmare from his mind. His last thoughts were of sitting on the cold stone at the parapet and drinking far too much on an empty belly. Clutching at the furs, he attempted to sit. “Sweet Jesus,” he muttered. The room spun, and he clenched his eyes shut. He could not recall how he managed to make it back to his room last evening. Taking deep calming breaths, he slowly opened his eyes once more.