FLAME ACROSS THE HIGHLANDS (27 page)

Chapter Thirty-Two
             

The  sweet scent of wild grass gave a breath of freshness to the air as Glenna trudged
her way to Riannon's cottage. The path twisted round and round and passed across a burn, but she lifted her skirt and waded across without hesitation.  She  felt exhilarated by the walk and bolstered by the thought that what she was doing was right. It was the first time in all her life that she had been quite so bold or had initiated an act without first procuring Brianna's advice.  She felt, however, that her sister would have agreed with her decision.  As if to reaffirm that feeling she had seen a cuckoo after breakfast, a good omen.  Nonetheless, she crossed herself as the old woman's thatch-roofed cottage came into view. Taking a deep breath, Glenna knocked on the door.

"Eh
?"  A wizened old face poked through a small opening at the top of the door and Glenna's hands went cold. "What do ye want?"

Glenna couldn't find her voice, she just stood there staring as Riannon's dark-eyed stare assessed her. Those eyes drew her, lured her, yet in a calming manner, as if giving forth the f
eeling that all would be well.

"Is there a babe about to be born?  Hae ye come for me?"  Grinning her toothless smile
, Riannon seemed the personification of evil, yet her voice was gentle and kind. "I'll get my pouch of herbs."

"No... no child...."  With trepidation she stared at the gray-haired old harridan, feelin
g a shiver convulse her spine. Was Jeanne right? Was this woman a witch? Would she be damned to eternal hell for even conversing with her?  Suddenly Glenna wanted to flee.

Shaking her head s
adly, Riannon opened the door. "I know what ye are thinking. I know what has been said.  But it isna true!"

"You're not a witch?"

"A witch?"  The old woman laughed revealing several missing teeth.  "Nae, I'm a healer and midwife but any magic I might hae is good.  Do ye ken?  I dinna conspire wi' the devil!  In fact I fight against him every chance I get."

Glenna believed her
, for there appeared to be nothing evil or sinister about Riannon. Quite to the contrary.  If the people of the village were to be believed, the woman had done a lot of good and was a healer.  "I'm sorry.  I shouldna hae believed even for a moment."  Succumbing to the old woman's invitation, she stepped inside the cottage.  "I hae come to ask ye for a potion.  One to make me bold and unafraid."

"A potion?"  The thin lips curved up in a grin.  "Tell me yer story,
nighean
."

Glenna did, sparing no details.  She talked about her love for Alastair, her hope that somehow she could convince he
r father to let her wed the handsome bard, her fright whenever her father grumbled at her. She spoke of Brianna and her journey to the lochs of Argyll.  "I'm such a goose!  I am as timid as a
feorag
, a squirrel.  I hae not the courage to e'en fight for the mon I love.  Ach, how I wish I could be as braw as my sister.  That's why I came...."

"And ye think I can help ye?"

She sensed a deep loneliness about the old woman and was jolted by a feeling of pity. "I hoped that ye could." Riannon was  regarded as an object of fear, thus had been shown little kindness.

"I see...."  The old woman motioned Glenna outside and there bent down and pulled at the tiny leaves on a vine. 
Wrapping the leaves and berries inside a folded piece of wool, she formed a small bundle, then dipped it into a steaming pot of  evil-smelling brew. Running her gnarled fingers  over it, mumbling a few words, she held it forth. "Take this.  It will aid ye in what ye must do."

When
Glenna's fingers touched the talisman, a jolt of power seemed to surge through her.  Such an eerie feeling. Was her mind playing tricks on her or was it real? "My thanks," was all she could manage to say. Reaching in the folds of her gown, she brought form a spool of brightly colored wool thread to offer in return. "This is for you."

             
Riannon chuckled but seemed to welcome such a rare show of affection.  "Ye've a deep core of kindness,
nighean
.  Aye, you'll win yer bard.  On that ye hae my word.

That night as Glenna sat beside her father at supper
, the old woman's words proved to be true. Witchcraft? Glenna only knew that possession of the talisman gave her a feeling of confidence, even in the face of her father's frowns.

"O
ch, Brie, I hae been worried."  Reaching over, Lachlan patted his daughter on the hand.  "It's not like ye to be like a mole, hiding away in yer burrow.  But now ye are back to yer  spirited self and ye look bonnie."

"I feel very, very happy, though I fear I canna say same for poor Glenna."  She c
lucked her tongue in sympathy.

"First one and then the other. I'll hae MacLay gi' her a bit o' his potion.  Eh?"   He
chuckled at the face she made. Glenna answered his laugh as she captured a piece of meat and lifted it to her lips.

The hall resounded with noise, laughter, chatter and the barking of dogs as they begged for scraps.  It was difficult to make oneself heard
, yet even so she knew she couldn't wait to ask her father the important question.  Patting the small bundle tied at her waist she felt  its the power and blurted out, "I hae something I need to talk wi' ye about.  Something I know will raise Glenna's spirits."

"What?"  As a platter of meat was passed beneath his nose
he speared it with his knife.

"Alastair!"

"Brianna....!"  He furled his brow.

"Ye canna be such a stubborn old goa
t!"  Had she really said that?

"Old goat am I?"

"Aye, but a sweet one. I wouldna like it said that Lachlan MacQuairie wouldna listen to reason, but that is the murmuring."

Lachlan
  turned his head from side to side very slowly, surveying his clansmen.  "I am always a most fair mon!  Ye know that daughter!"

"Except where poor Glenna and the bard are concerned.  Oh why will ye no' gi' Alastair a fight
ing chance to win his lassie?"

"Brie!"  His voice was gruff but this time Glenna didn't react in fear. "I've had my say
. Ye know my thoughts on the matter."              

"I do.  I love ye wi' all my heart, F
ather but in this ye are wrong! I know ye are.  And that is all I will say on the matter." 

The room crackled with tension.  Folding his arms across his chest
, Lachlan leaned back in his huge wooden chair with a husky growl. "Old goat am I?  Stubborn?"  He  pursed his lips in anger but Glenna did not squirm in her chair, nor regret her blunt words. She had spoken and that was that. When her motioned Alastair forward, she knew she had set him to thinking, but what was he going to do?

Lachlan
's sharp eyes focused on Alastair's face.  "So, ye hae aspirations to wed wi' my daughter, eh bard?"  he asked coldly.  When Alastair did not answer immediately he banged the table with his fist, setting the tankards and wooden plates and bowls quivering.  "Speak up!"

Alastair clenched his hands but did not flinch.  "I love Glenna very, very much!  And were she here I
would say it again and again."

"Love!  A
poem singers dream.  It doesna exist!"  The MacQuarie stared at Alastair, daring him to say otherwise.

"In all humble respects I believe that it does. A magic too potent to understand."  Alastair looked at Glenna out of the corner of his eye, caressing her with his gaze
, then hastily looked away before it was noticed.

"Magic?  Sorcery?  And just how do
ye define this magic of yers?

"A deep caring!  Two hearts that beat as one, two souls entwined for all eternity.  I would do anything just to make Glenna happy."  Alastair seemed to rela
x now that he had had his say.

"Would ye now.  There is a spark of sincerity in what ye say.  But I will put that to the test."  Rising to his feet
, Lachlan addressed the clan.  "This young pup dares much.  I hae decided to put him to the test and see if his bite matches his bark. Two days from now, when the  sun is directly overhead, I will allow Alastair the Bard to fight for my daughter's hand in marriage."

Glenna gasped, clutching her talisman, fearing to blink lest she wake up a
nd find it just another dream.

"If the bard is able to best all opponents I will agree to wed him to my daughter Glenna."  A ripple of chatter moved over the assemblage like a tide.  "But......if Alastair is brought to his knees he will be put out from our clan, banished to show his face no more." 
Lachlan seemed amused as he faced Alastair squarely.  "What say ye, Bard?"   He seemed to expect the handsome young man to back down, to change his mind.  Being banished was the harshest of penalties.

"I accept!"

"So be it."  Lachlan nudged Glenna.  "Do ye want to wager on the outcome, Brie?  Yer pony against my garron?"  Somehow Glenna was able to nod her head.  "Done!"

Dear God, Glenna thought, w
hat have I done?  Could she bear it if Alastair was sent away.  She grasped the tiny bag  Riannon had given her fervently. Somehow she knew she had to believe.  Alastair would win.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Ian floundered in his bed amidst the fragments of his sleep.
Tossing restlessly, his mind churned endlessly as he met head-on the questions troubling his mind. He did not need the fey to sense that in some way Brianna was in terrible danger here.  Duncan's resentment of the lass was apparent in every look he cast her way,  but Ian had tried to justify his uncle's stubbornness because of the years of warfare between the clans. Then tonight, there had been something sinister in the way his uncle had glared at the girl.  Hatred had glittered in his eyes like jewels.  A madness that had chilled Ian to the very bone.

Why did
Duncan feel the need to keep Brianna locked within the castle walls? Why had he been so panicked when he had learned of her near escape? What did he fear?  Reprisals for holding her captive?  Nae.  Duncan held no fear of the MacQuaries, not really.  In most of the battles throughout the years the Campbells had fared much better than the smaller clan. It was far more complicated than that.  He seemed to have a prodding alarm that somehow Robbie would not be marrying the lass.  Aye, that was it.  Most of all, it seemed Duncan was loath to chance any halt to the wedding, though not for the reason espoused. What was his motive then?

S
itting up, Ian braced his legs against the cold wooden floor, recalling to mind the conversation he'd had with his uncle a scant hour ago.  Duncan had interrogated him about Ulva, it's castle's defenses, the number of men that lived within its walls. Hardly a conversation to be held when they were on the brink of peace, Ian had thought. 

"I did not take notice since my mission was one of
peace
," Ian had answered, throwing his Uncle into a rage.

"Ye had an opportunity to be useful, to bring me back information about enemy country and yet ye hae the affrontary to tell me ye didna take notice!"

"Was I  sent to the MacQuarie castle to spy?  You should have told me, Uncle and I would have been more alert.  I thought our feuding with the MacQuaries had been settled.  At least so you said." 

"Nonetheless, I should hae thought any
Highland warrior worth his salt would hae considered it his duty to learn all he could to help his own kin."  Duncan screwed up his face, looking angry, fierce and formidable.  "Lachlan MacQuarie.  Bah!  I shall never forgi'e him.  I shall be avenged.  Aye, I shall!"

"By locking up his daughter?"  Ian knew it would be a long time before he could forget the scene he had stumbled upon,
Perth viciously assaulting Brianna.  He had never liked the man and now he loathed him even more.  But Perth would never dare touch her again.

"I did that for her own good.  I wouldna want her to get lost or to come upon unhonorable men."

"Like Perth!"

"Hold yer tongue! 
Perth has always served me well. Indeed, he wears the scars of MacQuarie treachery."  Duncan clenched his jaw as if to hold back his anger. Reaching out, he had patted Ian on the arm in a show of camaraderie. "But come, we shouldna be quarreling. What is done is done. Now ye are Tanist, a justifiable honor I hae disposed."  His upraised brow seemed to hint very strongly that Ian should show proper gratitude.

"And for that I thank you.
I will serve you well, Uncle, but as to Lachlan's daughter I think....."

"Shhhhh!   My mind is made up.  I hae decided that there is no need to wait
for the joining of our clans. I hae sent  to Iona  for a priest."

"A priest?"
A tight knot had formed in Ian's stomach at the thought of Brianna marrying.  Though he had thought himself resigned to it, he could not block out the pain his uncle's statement fueled.  All too soon the moment he had dreaded was to become a reality. "But the MacQuarie!  He has the right to witness his favorite daughter  wed."  Ian felt the need to urge Duncan to caution.  "You can't think to hold the ceremony without him."

"Nae.  But I dunna plan to gi' him time to renege on his pledge, to involve the church in the matter.  As soon as the priest arrives I'll bring the
MacQuarie here to witness my deed!" Duncan's gruesome laugh exploded through the room.  "Aye, if he doesna hurry here on his own when he realizes I hae his little treasure.  Ah, I'll take great pleasure in his daughter marrying Robbie."

Now that Ian thought about it, his uncle's statement had sounded like a threat, as if there was somet
hing  evil in what he planned. Why?  How was the marriage between Brianna and Robbie going to be used to avenge Duncan? What harm was going to be done to Brianna?  Ian knew he could not wait to find out.  He would not take the risk of Brianna being hurt in this matter of Duncan's hatred. She had come to Argyll because of him, because she was just as much in love with him as he was with her. She had melted in his arms, would have given herself to him in love had not Duncan's intrusion spoiled everything.  Now she needed him.

Ian dressed hurriedly in a shirt and breacon and slowly opened his chamber door.  True to his word
, Duncan had stationed a guard to prowl about in front of the room where Brianna was housed.  A faint gleam of torchlight glinted off the keys hung from the man's sporran, jingling as he walked back and forth.  It would be a traitorous act to follow the urging of his heart, Ian thought.  Even so, he knew there was no other choice.  There were times when right must overpower wrong no matter what the price.  True, Duncan was Ian's chieftain, for whom he had sworn loyalty, and his uncle, but kin or not, he was grieviously unjust in what he was doing.  So thinking, Ian grasped his sword, hoping with all his heart he would not have to use it to shed any blood.

Stealthfully
, Ian approached the sentinal, grasping the sword,  using the handle as a club, knocking the guard out cold.  The man grunted, then slumped to the floor.  Anxiously, Ian fumbled about for the key, tearing it free and unlocking the door.

"Brianna!"
His voice was a harsh, whispered urgency.

"Mmmmm....."  She came only half awake, disturbed by his hushed command
, but opened her eyes wide as he shook he gently. "What do ye want?"  Thinking him to have amorous intentions, she hissed, "Go away! Dinna touch me Ian Campbell.  Never again.  I dunna want ye here upsetting my sleep."

"Not even if I've come to free you?"

"Free me?"

"Aye.  A spirited little
kittiwake
such as you should ne'er be caged. Come, darlin'." With gentle fingers he grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet.  "We've got to hurry before the goose egg I gifted the guard with is discovered.  I don't know how long he'll be unconscious."

"Ye hit that mon, for me?"  All the angry thoughts she'd had about him vanished to be r
eplaced by a warm glow of love. "Why?"

Ian ruff
led her already touseled hair. "We won't speak of it now, but I think you ken.  Now, no more talk!"

By the light of a candle he helped her dress, his fingers lingering overlong on the soft swell of her breast as he fastened  the folds of her
tonnag
  together with a broach.  He looked down at the fiery red tresses illulminated by the glow of the flickering light and wrapped a strand around his fingers. A yearning surged through him. He wanted her so much that it was a painful longing.  If only they could go away together, give free expression to the passion that sparked between them, he knew they could be happy. But that was a madman's wish.  If his uncle didn't have both their heads, her father would.  An impossible dream, that's what loving Brianna MacQuarie was.  Even so, he allowed himself the luxury of holding her close, just for a moment, brushing his lips against her neck.  Then with a mumbled oath he pulled away.

"Come!"

More than one unwary guard was the recipient of a painful crack to the head as Ian frantically sought Brianna's freedom, yet slowly but surely they worked their way across the inner bailey, hiding  in the shadows.  Ian clasped Brianna's hand so tightly that she winced.  Even so she smiled.  "I'll ne'er again call ye a rogue, Ian dear.  In truth ye are more a saint." 

"As I said, I just don't like to see a lassie held against her will."  Ian felt a shiver convulse her slim frame and wrapped his arms around her, shielding her fro
m the cool air with his plaid. An unpremeditated act but one that most definitely felt right.  She belonged in his arms.  "Duncan  is a good clan chief on most accounts but something is seriously amiss here. I intend to take you back to your father's hall until I find out more about the situation."

She nuzzled her check against his chest.  "I canna think of a more welcome companion."  Hope kindled anew in her heart, that perhaps all would turn out as it should after all.  Perhaps when she told her father what had happened
, he would listen to her request and exchange one groom for another.  Duncan had transgressed, and she held onto the dream that when all was said and done he would put aside his stubborness in the interest of peace.             

"Brianna....."  Ian's mouth hovered only inches from her own and she wanted him to give in to the moment
, but instead he shook his head.  "We'll need horses.  If we can make headway tonight there will be no way Duncan and the others can catch us."  Holding her close, he led her to the stables and selected two horses he knew to be most noble steeds.  "Have you ever ridden bareback?"

"Aye!"

"Then I won't take time to saddle these."  Cupping his hands around her foot, he helped her mount  then flung himself upon another horse's back.  The dark shape of the huge outer gate loomed before them.  "Push the ends of your hair inside your tonnag, lass and keep your head down so there'll be no suspicion as to who you are," he ordered, guiding his horse towards the outer bailey gate.  "Open up!" he yelled to the man atop the wall. 

The creak of the portcullis was a welcome sound, though Brianna watched the iron grating ascend with anxiety.  What would be Ian's punishment for aiding her, she wondered, knowing his betrayal of
Duncan would not be taken lightly.  The realization of what Ian had risked suddenly hit her full force.  How could she let him make such a sacrifice? She had thought that being tanist meant the world to him, and yet now by his actions he was throwing the honor away.  She couldn't let him do it!

"Ian, go back.  I canna let ye go wi' me," she breathed, her voice blending with the wind.

"I know a shortcut that will lead you to the coast in half the time.  I wouldn't let any lassie travel at night alone." He grinned.  "Besides, call me a selfish man if you like, but I rather relish your company.  You've come to mean a great deal to me, Brianna."  It was as close to an admission of love as he intended to come.  "Don't worry. I'll think of a way to make amends to Duncan, never fear.  He needs me.  I don't mean to boast but I'm the best captain he has."

He proved his stubborness on the matt
er, refusing to go back, following her through the gaping mouth of the gate and galloping across the glen.   Sitting her horse expertly and straight, Brianna felt a wild surge of excitement sweep through her.  For the moment at least, she was free and with the man she loved.  If they had only this time to be together she would cherish it. 

They formed two silhouettes on the crest of the hill, riding against the wind, blending their bodies with the churning muscles of the horses beneath them.  Brianna felt contented that all would be well until her eye
s swept the dark gray horizon. Were those distant dots she saw on the hill what she thought them to be? Yes! Blessed Saint Michael, they were being followed!

"Ian!
Horsemen!" she croaked, clutching the horse's mane with fingers that trembled. "Are they.....?"

Ian looked over his shoulder, cursing loudly, answering her question.  The cluster of distant riders w
ere coming in their direction. There could be no other reason than pursuit. "They must have found the sentry sooner than I supposed. We've got to ride hard, Brie!"

Ride hard she did, until her legs ached and her hands were numb from holding on to the horse's mane.  And all the while it seemed the sound of pursuing, pulsating horses'
hooves got louder and louder. Had she had any wonder as to the horsemen's identity, the Campbell the war cry of ‘cruachan!’ left no doubt.

H
ow Brianna longed for her own horse, for the Scots
garrons
were bred for speed.  Instead she made due, guiding the animal beneath her across the glen and down a steep hill.  They had a head start that gave them a fair to middling chance of escape, she told herself.  Looking over her shoulder, nonetheless, she cringed as she saw the riders steadily gaining.  Her father had once told her there was no finer horseman than a Campbell.  Now she had proof of that saying.  Ha, but she would give them a race if that was what they wanted.  In desperation, she nudged the flanks of her horse, determined to succeed.  She might have if her mount had not stepped in a hole and stumbled.  A scream tore from Brianna's mouth as she felt the firm flesh beneath her plunge to the ground.

"Brianna!"  Ian looked behind him and saw her fall. His heart lurched and pounded frantically as he hurried to the spot where her horse had gone down. It was like a terrible re
-creation of that time in the forest, he thought, bending over her.  "Brianna!" His voice was a soulful wail.