Highland Persuasion (The MacLomain Series- Early Years) (13 page)

Instead of admiring her pert nose and soft cheeks he continued to study the lay of the land beneath. There was no way of knowing where they should start or end when in a place set aside by the Irish gods. Grumbling to himself, Alexander paced and watched. ‘Twas time to think like the Scot he was.

Though he knew it to be longer it felt like mere minutes before the sun sank and they were basking in twilight. When he glanced back it was to see Iosbail at the Oak, again looking up. Despite his frustration he understood her need to commune with a part of herself she thought gone. He remembered clearly being a young lad doing the same thing.

To be born a bastard destined for royalty had no good points.

So when the sun vanished and the moon rose, when he knew it time to travel, Alexander still waited for her. Iosbail had not moved an inch but remained beneath the Oak. He understood that she waited for a sign and bloody hell if he didn’t want her to get one.

Yet more time passed and nothing happened.

At last she shook her head as though unconvinced he’d sensed her Irish ancestors to begin with. But he had and knew it. They’d looked after her. For whatever reason, they’d given her safe haven here…with him.

When she hung her head and remained where she was he knew she prayed to the old gods. He knew she thanked them for what they’d given whether or not she truly believed. Alexander looked away as she prayed. Iosbail might be a hard woman but she was devoted to whomever she believed.

And he respected that tremendously.

Still, he was sure to meet her with a deep frown when she joined him. She’d expect nothing less. Anger, bitterness, pride, resolve, those were things this lass knew, not much more. He well understood as his life had left him feeling the same.

Could it be that while they were sworn enemies they had similarities?

Alexander smiled to himself. Of course they did. What made better enemies than those raised by parents who were enemies? That was one thing they’d always have in common.

They were raised to dislike one another.

In his case anyways, in her case only the gods knew. She was most likely the creator of her own vengence. Alexander eyed her stern profile as she studied their surroundings. Aye, Iosbail was most certainly there at the beginning and had created her own destiny.

“’Tis eve enough, time to travel,” he said.

Iosbail nodded once as though answering to a much higher power than he. “I worry about Shamus’s wound.”

“As do I.”

When they stood next to one another and searched the landscape below it was as if they’d never touched, never even kissed. As much as it bothered him, Alexander understood. It would either take time for her to acknowledge it or she would wipe what they’d done from her memory.

“’Tis unwise to leave the way we came.”

Had he heard a breathless note when she said that? When Alexander sneaked a peak it was only to find her still sternly scanning the area.

He nodded and grabbed her hand. No need to further ponder. As they walked toward the waterfall, he said, “I need not tell you our next move. You already know it.”

It occurred to him that what he and Iosbail shared was much like what he and his warriors
shared,
the innate ability to understand one another in battle without speaking. 

When they crouched beyond the waterfall behind a rock with good vantage below she said, “If they’ve got them already, I can fix it.”

“Nay.”
He didn’t touch her elbow or show endearment. “If they’ve got them,
we
can fix it.”

Iosbail’s eyes shot to his in confusion, almost amazement before she said, “I will move forward with you on one condition, Sinclair. If I feel I can do better you allow me. If I feel you can do better I allow you.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll agree to nothing. What makes you think I would?”

“Because I know best.”
She nodded downhill. “You see the tracks.
Many people.”

“Aye, one was dragged. A man I’d say.”

“I see the marks.” She frowned.
“Shamus.”

Alexander continued to scan the area. He’d hoped to avoid this. In fact, he’d prayed. But now it was time to start thinking differently. If one of them had been taken it meant he was going nowhere. Nobody would be left behind. “They’ll have scouts everywhere. The first thing we need to determine is if they have Caitriona. If not, you’ll find and stay with her.”

Iosbail started to deny him but Alexander met her eyes, his look one she’d not seen before. “You’re without your magi. I’ve mine. You know as well as I ‘tis the best course of action. I’ll go after Shamus. You’ll get her to safety then back to Cowal.”

Her eyes narrowed and her chin jutted out but Iosbail didn’t fight him. Instead she said, “Aye, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“You must abide my wishes, Iosbail, ‘tis no other choice.”

“There would’ve had we not come to these bloody isles,” she murmured. Yet he saw and heard the untruth in her statement. The Broun would always be glad she came to the Hebrides. This place did something for her.

But what?
And would he ever have a chance to find out?

Did he even want to?

Aye.

Shoving the sentiment aside, he said, “Time to move.”

He knew she followed as they made their way along the mountain wall. Sight was minimal as they traveled further and the rock blocked any moonlight available. The only thing leading the way now were his instincts. When the wind shifted he slowed and crouched at a bend in the rock. Everything about this place made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge.

It didn’t feel like his Highlands.

It didn’t feel natural.

Like the cliff earlier in the day, the forest seemed full of shadows. Despite the sounds normal to nature, their surroundings suddenly sounded deafening in its silence. They should have never left their seclusion until daybreak. He knew it without question.

They’d made a mistake.

“We must go back,” he whispered.

Iosbail didn’t respond.

“We were played for fools.”

Still, she said nothing.

“Come, we go back now.”

But when he turned she was gone.

Chapter Seven

How had she ended up in this position?

Iosbail had no choice but be dragged then flung over someone’s shoulder. She’d been bound and gagged quickly through magic. Truth told
,
she was impressed by their mere stealth. They’d scooped her up without Alexander being the wiser.

Even though he didn’t know it yet this really was the best course of action.

Or at least it was the fastest one to get to where she needed to go.

Who was Alexander to tell her to watch over Caitriona while he went to go save her Irishman? Fool. Typical Sinclair arrogance! Hope the women can shelter themselves well while the one lone wizard goes to battle many. That scenario never worked out well.

Unless of course one was Adlin.

But we all couldn’t be him, could we?

Iosbail grinned through her gag as she was jostled on the shoulder of a stranger. This adventure just kept getting better and better. Magic or not, she’d figure out a way to save them all. She didn’t doubt it for a second.

A few more minutes went by before she was lowered. It’d been so dark outside that she squinted at the light. When her vision adjusted, Iosbail’s eyes widened. She stood in the largest cave she’d ever seen. By her approximation it far dwarfed even the innards of the MacLomain castle. A huge bonfire burned in the center and hundreds upon hundreds of huts sat comfortably on the rock as far as she could see.

One hut, however, was far larger than the others.

It was that very hut she was now being pushed toward. Iosbail took the opportunity to look for signs of Shamus or Caitriona. They were nowhere to be seen. Hopefully, someone was caring for Shamus’ wound. There was little doubt that if a proper healer saw to it her Irish friend would be just fine.

When she entered the hut it was to find yet another fire burning in the center. Her gag and binds were removed. She was made to sit on a crude log about ten feet from a man sitting in a tall chair. Iosbail didn’t know which interested her more, the chair or the man. What he sat in was simple in design, made of wood with ancient Celtic symbols carved throughout. It was very, very old, if not as old as the gods.

The man who sat in it was not nearly as old but quite possibly as powerful.

“Welcome, Iosbail Broun of the MacLomain clan.”

As suspected, he already knew who she was.

But who was he?

His appearance was by no means attractive in the common sense. His face was too long and his shoulders too narrow. But he had enough square to his jaw and polished ebony to his intense eyes to hold a certain odd appeal. One, she had little doubt, he took full advantage of. This man had a dose of the black Irish in him.

“Me name is Innis MacGilleEathain, descendant of
Loarn mac Eirc
.”

It was a good thing she sat, lest she’d lose her legs from beneath her. “You’re of the Dalriata.
A king’s son.”

He nodded but his expression remained emotionless. “As are you though fostered, of the Dalriata’s, and a king’s daughter.”

She shook her head.
“But how?”

“Need you ask?”

Nay, she supposed she didn’t. If she and Adlin were immortal descendants of the Dalriata, it stood to reason there were more. While she was inclined to embrace this newfound family member she sensed his feelings were of the very opposite. Her newfound adventure seemed far less enticing by the moment.

This man was no average wizard.

But nor was she for that matter.

“What are your intentions?” she asked

“To set an example to those who trespass here. The Sinclair will be tortured then killed. The Irishman will die. We will keep the lass. You will be used to ransom to your brother.”

There was no need to contemplate this proposal for a moment. It was as she suspected it would be, time to manipulate. Iosbail sighed. “So the MacLomain tartan didnae fool
ye
for a second, aye?”

“Did ye imagine it would?”

“Nay! ‘
Tis what I told the Sinclair but he didnae listen. Does that surprise
ye
?”

The man’s expression didn’t budge a bit when he said, “Now what will we do for the care ye have for the lads?”

She didn’t suppose her indifference would work so she narrowed her eyes. “Test it and find out.”

As if he’d been waiting for it all along, Innis released a small grin. The expression did very sour things to his face. His was a mug meant for absent or grim expression. Either one would do, anything but happiness.

“I look forward to this, Iosbail.” He cracked one knuckle at a time. “Especially in that ye’ve no a bit o’ magic about ye right now.”