Highland Thunder (Isle of Mull Series) (14 page)

“You believe then that someone has been giving Nellore flowers in secret, mayhap watching for when you’ve turned your back,” Bridget said quietly as she kept her eyes trained on Nellore’s face.

Brenna nodded, “I suppose I do. I believed it all to be coincidence until this morning.”

Bridget walked Nellore over to a soft sheepskin. Nearby was a basket of rattles made from hollowed out gourds, which the lass wasted no time in discovering. Then Bridget turned back to face Brenna, eyes aflame with silver lights.

“
Cuimhnich bas Alpein,
” Bridget said. “Remember the death of King Alpin.”

Brenna’s eyes opened wide with alarm. “Is that not the battle cry of your clan? Why do you say this?”

“When I found Nellore, abandoned on the moors, those were the words that rang in my ears when I first touched her.”

“I do not ken what you are trying to tell me, Bridget,” Brenna said. “Mayhap, you should start from the beginning and tell me finally all that you’ve kept secret. Tell me how you came to find Nellore.”

Bridget nodded and motioned for Brenna and Anna to join her beside the cold hearth. The warmth of summer required no fire to keep the room comfortable. Bridget looked to her daughter first and received a reassuring nod. “You do not have to keep secrets from Brenna, mother. Her heart is akin to ours.”

Brenna listened, confused by their exchange, but she nodded to encourage Bridget to speak freely. “You know you have my faith and trust, my lady,” Brenna said.

“Everyone’s trust has limits. I do not intend to test yours today,” Bridget replied.

Brenna shook her head, “You speak in riddles, Bridget. I do not ken.”

“Be at peace, lass, and listen, for I shall tell you about the night I found Nellore.” Bridget paused for a moment as though she gathered her thoughts, and then she began at last, her voice hushed and distant.

“A storm raged, upsetting the night. I awoke in the midst of thunderous upheaval, but ‘twas not the storm that pulled me from my dreams. I felt compelled to go out into the night, heedless of the icy rain. I knew someone defenseless was out there and in mortal danger. I crossed the moors impervious to the cold. My focus never wavered from the great urgency in my heart, and then I found her, your Nellore, nigh frozen to death at the foot of the Daione Shi Knoll. I scooped her up…”

Brenna jumped to her feet. Her heart thundered in her chest as she tried to comprehend Bridget’s words. Brenna had only visited the famed Daione Shi Knoll once when she first arrived on Mull as Ewan’s new bride. On a tour of the isle, Ewan pointed out the Knoll from the distance. She observed the severe rocky slope, covered with wondrous pink roses, and begged Ewan to take her closer. He refused, explaining that the Knoll was dangerous and enchanted. No one tended the flowers and with little more than rocks and moss to nourish their roots, it was a miracle they bloomed. Then she remembered his voice dropping to a whisper.

“’Tis the gateway to the faery kingdom. The king of the faeries uses the pink blossoms to lure innocent maids below the surface. The place is cursed.”

As Brenna recalled Ewan’s words, confusion gave way to understanding. Brenna turned to Bridget. “Nellore was given to the faeries. Why have you never told me this?”

“If the clan knew I’d taken a baby from the Daione Shi Knoll their actions would have been guided by fear alone. At worst, they would have rejected Nellore and demanded she be returned or else the whole clan be subjected to the wrath of the fairfolk. At best, Nellore would have been viewed as an outsider, never trusted, never truly belonging. And if ever the clan suffered some great misfortune—the failing of crops or outbreak of disease—Nellore might be blamed. Besides, would you have taken the baby if you had known from whence she’d come?”

Bridget’s words fell on Brenna’s shoulders like an oppressive yoke as she stared at the ugly truth. Without doubt, Brenna knew she would have accepted Nellore had she been snatched from the gates of Hell. She would face an army of faeries, silkies, or demons if it meant to have a daughter, but Ewan would have refused. She felt certain with his cautious nature he would have turned Nellore away.

She steadied her shaking hands as she looked at her daughter playing merrily on the soft rug, oblivious of the danger that surrounded her.

“No one must ever know,” Brenna said.

“Aye, Brenna. I dread to think of what may come to pass if the truth is revealed. ‘Tis a secret closely guarded, known only to the three of us and Ronan.”

Brenna swallowed the knot of tears that had formed in her throat. “You are certain of this?” she said.

“Fear not, Brenna,” Anna said as she leaned over and gave Brenna’s cheek a reassuring caress. “No one shall ever know.”

Brenna nodded as her composure returned. She knew there was more to Bridget’s story. She inhaled deeply as she garnered her strength. “I am ready now, Bridget. Please go on.”

“I found her at the base of the Knoll and revived her icy body with a healing potion of Water Mint and May Blossom. She responded instantly to the warming herbs, and I knew then she would live. Cradling her in my arms, I pressed a kiss to her forehead. Just as my lips made contact with her skin, I experienced a type of dream. I saw as clear as day the badge of the MacKinnon, a fir branch, suspended in the night sky, and then a single warrior sounded our battle cry as the branch burst into flames.”

Brenna’s eyes widened as she whispered, “You had a vision?”

“Aye,” Bridget said. “’Twas a vision.”

“But what did it mean? What has Nellore to do with burning fir branches and battle cries? She is only a child.”

Bridget stood and calmly took Brenna’s hands. “She is a child now, Brenna, but one day she will be a woman grown. I believe the fate of our clan and the fate of your daughter are somehow joined.”

Her head pounded. Pulling off her scarf, Brenna loosened her belt and began to pace the length of the room. Reason revolted against the flood of new information that churned her stomach and quickened her breathing.

“I do not ken,” she said. “’Tis too much to ken.”

Then she strode to where Bridget stood, and in a controlled but firm voice, she said, “At this moment, I do not care where you found her, and I do not care what the future holds. What I want to know is who was in my home last night, and what do they want with my daughter?”

“I know not,” Bridget said, unflinching.

“Did the faeries come to claim what they regard as theirs?” Brenna said.

“’Tis possible, but I believe if the faeries wanted her, they would have her. There is little you or I could do to stop them.”

“Then who? Her family? Her birth mother? Is there some way to know who abandoned her? Surely, you know every MacKinnon from here to the border of our lands.” Then Brenna froze as a new realization filled her with apprehension. “The Daione Shi Knoll is sacred to all who inhabit this isle. ‘Tis not so far from our border to the south.” She looked at Bridget and Anna who both nodded their heads, their mouths set in grim lines.

“She could be a MacLean,” Brenna said as she hurried to Nellore’s side and scooped her in her arms. “And mayhap they want her back.”

“Stay calm, Bridget. I do not believe ‘tis as simple as that. If the MacLeans wanted her, why not take her? Why give her a flower?”

Brenna released a slow breath and nodded, trusting in the logic of Bridget’s words.

Anna wrapped her arms around Brenna and Nellore. “What is to be done?” Anna asked her mother.

Bridget shook her head. “I can discern little with certainty other than what I hope brings you some comfort, Brenna. The thistle is not a bad omen. It stands for courage in the face of treachery.”

“Mayhap, if Brenna is afraid, she and Nellore might stay here in the keep,” Anna suggested.

“Aye, Anna, and she would be welcomed, but to do so fixes nothing. Therefore, unless she intends to relinquish her land and her home and move to the keep permanently, your suggestion only delays discovering the truth.”

Brenna threw her shoulders back. “I will not be driven from my land.”

Bridget smiled and kissed Brenna’s cheek. “You are a fierce woman, Brenna. Your strength and courage fill me with pride. Come. Follow me to the kitchens, and I will tell you what must be done.”

The ladies followed the stairs to the great hall and then continued down to the kitchens. Garlic and rosemary scented the air. The cooks, bustling about preparing the midday meal, stepped aside, allowing the ladies passage to the herb cupboard.

Bridget threw open the double doors. Without hesitation, she reached for a small vial sealed with wax. In a low voice, she said, “Brenna, this is an oil made from Red Verbena and Hogweed. You will anoint Nellore’s eyelids at night and again in the morning. Red Verbena wards off evil while Hogweed defends children against the faeries.”

After handing Brenna the vial, Bridget turned back to the cupboard and crouched down to pull something from the bottom shelf. She stood holding a large bundle of sticks.

“The branches of the Rowan tree are very powerful. Place this bundle outside your door along with a sprinkle of raw oats. You must also encircle Nellore’s pallet with oats as well.”

Anna reached inside and withdrew a long string of seeds. “A necklace of peony seeds will also protect Nellore from the fairfolk.”

Bridget smiled, “Indeed, you are right, Anna.”

Anna added the necklace to a large satchel stuffed full with the other items Bridget selected.

Bridget stared for a moment longer at the contents of her cupboard before shutting the doors. Then she turned to face Brenna. “You must also rid your home of lavender and thyme. The fey will only be drawn to their scents. Anna will continue to stay with you. Does young Liam still make his bed in your barn?”

“Aye,” Brenna confirmed.

“Good. Now, if you do not remember my instruction, fear not. Anna will be able to assist with the herbs.”

Brenna looked to Anna who was nodding with a bright smile.

Bridget embraced Brenna and whispered in her ear. “Hold tight to your courage. Things are not always as they appear.”

Brenna carried Nellore and followed Anna toward the stairs, but just as she was about to cross into the great hall, she turned around and looked down at Bridget.

“How did you know Nellore had been abandoned on the moors? How did you know where to find her?”

A glint of silver fire lit Bridget’s eyes, but then she shrugged. “I’ve already told you, Brenna, things are not always as they appear.”

Chapter 12

The Trinity sailed into the Sound of Islay, a narrow strip of water separating the isles of Islay and Jura. Duncan manned the rudder as they approached the Port of Askaig, which sat nestled beneath the shadow of towering cliffs. A small village comprised mostly of peat huts with thatched roofs unfolded before them. The twilight hour revealed quiet streets, but the many empty market stalls told of a bustling village center in the light of day.

They secured their ship and made their way through the docks onto dry land. Duncan’s eyes surveyed the small village with the intention of securing accommodations.

“You there,” he called out to an ancient fisherman still laying his nets to dry. “Is there an inn or tavern where we might find a meal?”

A grin stretched across a toothless mouth as he pointed further down the coast. “The Inn of Islay is along there. ‘Tis easy to find being the only stone building in the lot.”

Duncan smiled at the old man and bid him rest while he made short work of the last of the nets. “I remember when my back was strong like yours,” the old man said, clearly grateful to sit for a spell.

After finishing the task, Duncan stood and gazed across the docks, over the Sound of Islay to where the mountains of Jura towered against the darkening sky. Brenna’s spirit would have soared at the majestic sight. As he stared, the mountains and sky disappeared, replaced by deep blue eyes and a stubborn jaw graced with a sensuous mouth.

“’Tis a fine view, lad, but you’ve lost your kinsmen,” the old man said.

Duncan shook Brenna from his thoughts and looked about realizing the other men had indeed gone ahead.

“’Tis no matter,” Duncan said. “Would you care to join us this night for a meal?”

“I thank you, lad, but nay. My wife waits for my return with a warm meal and a smile a good deal prettier than yours.”

Duncan chuckled as he bid farewell to the old man hurrying off home. The two-story stone inn came into view as he rounded the windy village road that hugged the imposing cliffs. The inn boasted several guests, but owing to Ronan’s great height, Duncan easily spied his kinsmen sitting near the hearth.

No sooner had he sat down next to Ronan then a pretty lass placed a heaping plate of fish and cabbage in front of him. Ravenous, he shoveled the food into his mouth without ceremony.

“What sort of man is the Lord of Islay?” Cormac asked of Ronan.

“I know not,” Ronan replied. “I’ve never met the man. Our fathers were enemies.”

Duncan’s fork froze halfway between plate and mouth. “You plan to enter an enemy’s fortress with only three men and as many swords. Are you mad, Ronan?”