Onyx (4 page)

And then he realized one of the riders was a woman, sitting sidesaddle on the hor
se. She was helped off her mount by one of the men, and her hood slipped from her head in the process.

They were English, and that
fact already turned his stomach sour, adding to the burning sensation of Old Callum’s whisky in his gut. He hated the English, since his mother told him it was one of them who killed his father. He grew up hearing the stories of how his father was ambushed by them, and lost his life just before Onyx was born.

“
Sassenach
,” he spat under his breath, and almost as if the girl had heard him, she turned and looked in his direction. She wore a small square-shaped hat covering her head, with a caul, or net attached. Her long, blond hair was folded over and pushed inside the net to keep it in place. She wore a burgundy, velvet gown trimmed in gold, with long, flowing tippets. And covering herself from the cold winter air was a long, thick cloak made of dark grey wool and lined in fox fur and ermine.

“Ask him,” she said, pointing directly at him, giving the impression she was an English noble
woman and these were her guards. The entourage was rather large for just one woman, and oddly enough he didn’t see a handmaiden with her. And the men looked to all be footsoldiers, not even knights, so he doubted any of the men were a lord, or her husband.

“You there,” said one of the guards
who seemed to be the girl’s head lackey. He stepped forward and raised a hand in the air. “We are looking for someone. A Highlander woman. We believe her name may be Fenella. Do you know where we can find her?”

Onyx
had planned on turning and ignoring them and hurrying to meet his friends where his willing wench awaited him, but upon hearing his mother’s name springing from the man’s lips, his curiosity grew and he moved toward them.

“Who’s askin’?” he cal
led out, slowly moving closer. He laid one hand on the hilt of his sword at his side, and fingered his dagger with the other. His attention fastened on the girl as he spoke. He could see her eyes clearly in the moonlight, and also in the firelight of the torch a guard held near her. She had bright blue eyes, like the sky on a warm summer’s day. Her face was that of an angel, with smooth, pale skin, and her features were sublime, her composure prim and proper. She looked nothing like the casually dressed, hearty Scottish lassies.

“This is Lady
Loveday de Lacy, the baroness of Worcestershire. She is searching for this woman,” the guard relayed.

Onyx
almost laughed aloud at her name, and she obviously noticed.

“Is something amusing?
” she asked him with her turned-up nose, busying herself with taking off her leather gloves.

“
I’ve never heard such a ridiculous name before in me entire life, me Lady Love,” he snickered. He wasn’t sure if he was just being bold talking to a noble this way, or if it was perhaps the whisky talking. Either way, he didn’t really care. “God’s eyes, did someone name ye thet as a jest, or when they were well in their cups?”

“You mean, like you?”
Her guard put his hand on the hilt of his sword and probably would have pulled it had she not laid her hand gently atop his arm to stop him. Her mouth was set in a firm line, and her features were rigid.

“Weldon
, he is a Highlander,” she reminded him, and pointed with her nose at his tartan. “They are fierce and easy to anger and not to be trusted in the least. Especially if they’ve been drinking.”

“I could say the same fer the English,” he said, not caring that there were
half a dozen men facing him that were skilled warriors and heavily armed.

“
For your information, my name is not ridiculous,” she spat. “I was born on Loveday. And in case you are not familiar with the English custom, it is a day set aside for reconciliation with enemies and a time for people to settle disputes between them. And also, my parents were once very much in love. So you see, my name is fitting. However, I prefer to be called Lady Lovelle, or Baroness, if you please.”

“Well, that is amusing, Lady Love,” he told her with a chuckle
, ignoring the fact she’d just asked him not to call her that. “Howe’er, we have no day to reconcile with our enemies in Scotland, so it means little te me. Now, today is me birthday and though I was born on Hogmanay, ye dinna see me bein’ called Hog. So if ye’ll pardon me bluntness, I dinna care te reconcile with me enemies and I have friends waitin’.” He started to walk away, when she stopped him.

“
And what might your name be?” she asked, sounding haughty, and making Onyx want to get away from her quickly. She gave the impression she thought he was below her standards and she was so much better than him. Just like a damned Sassenach. He wouldn’t tell her his name now if his life depended upon it.

“The
t’s noon of yer concern,” he said, watching her eyes narrow at his response.

“Dagger, come on,
” Aidan called out from the stables just then. His friend stood there bare-chested, and his long, blond hair was tousled. He also had two girls clinging to him. That is, one of the girls that was supposed to be his.

“Hurry, Onyx, as I am feeling the need to scream out,” said the sister at his side who was to be his birthday present. With that
, they disappeared back into the stables and out of the cold.

“Dagger?”
asked the woman with a chuckle. “And Onyx? Well, which is it?”

Damn, if only they had kept their mouths shut. Now she knew both his names and he wasn’t planning on giving her that much information.

“It disna matter,” he ground out.

“And you thought
Loveday was a ridiculous name.” One of her eyebrows raised and a corner of her mouth lifted in amusement. Then she let her eyes scan down his body in much the same way he’d been perusing her.

Onyx knew th
at his mother would never willingly have anything to do with the English - ever. If they were looking for her, it most likely had something to do with her tarnished past. After all, he’d heard the elders of the clan talk about his mother through the years, saying she was light-fingered and had a habit of stealing things. Still, what could she have stolen that was so important to have the English crossing the border to find her? Especially an Englishwoman who was traveling by horseback and on such a cold night, and so far from her home.

Nay, he decided, they didn’t need to know his mother was inside.
And hopefully they’d just turn around and leave, and he could find his mother and ask her about all this in private.

“
Ye said the woman ye’re searching fer is a Highlander, so why are ye lookin’ fer her in the Lowlands?” he asked.

“Well, you’re a Highlander, aren’t you?” the woman asked, surveying his attire. “And yet you’re in the Lowlands. We’ve heard this pub is owned by a Highlander as well.”

“Well, the lassie ye’re seachin’ fer is no’ here, so I’d suggest ye head on back across the border and leave afore ye anger the wrong MacKeefe.”

“MacKeefe
, did you say?” She then turned her head and called to one of the men of her party to join her. When he did, Onyx could see he was donned in an ermine-trimmed cape but was not a noble or a guard. He was old, and had weathered skin and broken teeth. And his hair was gray and thin, and fell just past his shoulders. He seemed to Onyx no better than a ragpicker or perhaps one of those beady-eyed dockworkers from the coast.

“Didn’t you say the woman we’re searching for
was from the MacKeefe clan?” she asked the man.

“
I believe she was,” said the old man. “But it was a long time ago. After twenty years my memory is not so good. So perhaps I am mistaken.”

She looked at her
guard and nodded slightly. The guard pulled out his pouch and handed the man a coin.

“Is your damned memory any better now?” the guard growled.

The old man looked at the coin in his hand and then back up to the guard. “It could be . . . but . . .”

“Give h
im another coin,” said the girl softly.

“But
my lady, he’s already dressed in one of our cloaks and we’ve fed him well and given him more than enough coins.”

“One more,” she said, c
rossing her arms over her chest, and the guard begrudgingly did as she instructed.

“Well then,” she said to the man. “Is this the same tartan you saw the woman wearing or not?”

The old man walked closer to Onyx and circled him, surveying his plaid. His hand was on his chin as if in thought.

“I believe so,” he said, “aye, I am sure of it.” He reached out to touch the cloth, and in one instant Onyx pulled his gemstone dagger from his side and held it up in front of the man’s face.

“Touch me cloot
again and ye’ll find yer fingers severed from yer body.” Onyx looked the man in the eye and got the usual reaction he did from people who were seeing him for the first time. Upon spying his two different colored eyes, the man pulled his hand back and stepped away quickly. His own eyes were opened wide in fright, and his head cocked to the side.

“He’s the devil,” spat the man
, blessing himself quickly. He ran back and hid behind the guards. “Leave now I tell you. He’s come back to life and we will be cursed. Save yerself now, my lady before ’tis too late.”

“You’ve seen this man before?” asked Lady
Lovelle.

“I’ve heard of him. A long time ago. I
t was on the docks at Blackpool,” the frightened man answered. “The same day I saw that woman named Fenella.”

Onyx broke in
. “I have no recollection of ever seein’ this liar before. Now once again, I told ye the person ye search fer isna here, so be on yer way.”

The old man cowered behind the guard and didn’t say another word.

Onyx just looked at the girl as she bravely came closer and gazed directly into his eyes. He waited for her to flinch or back away when she looked at him, but she didn’t. Instead, she stared at him and didn’t break the connection. He’d never seen any lassie so brave – or so stupid.

“He’s holding his dagger, my lady,” warned the guard, pulling his sword.
“And in his left hand, just like a demon.”

“Stay there,” she said with a raised hand and the guard
did as commanded. “The old man seems to know you,” she said to Onyx. “He also seems too frightened by you to speak. Tell me, why is this?”

“I dinna
ken what ye mean,” he said. “And I dinna like being called a devil.”

Actually, he kind of did. He liked the way people stood clear of him thinking he was more dangerous tha
n he really was. He was tall in stature, and the girl had to crook her neck just to see into his eyes. And though he was skilled with his dagger better than any of the clansmen and he was in the prime of his life and his body in wonderful shape, he still didn’t have half the strength of Aidan, or half the charming skill with lassies that Ian did.

“Have you ever been
on the docks of Blackpool?” she asked him.

“I try te
stay out of me enemy’s territories. Me home is the Highlands and I assure ye I’ve never been te Blackpool in me life.”

“It’s him, I tell
you,” said the old man peeking out from behind the guard. “Just find the woman named Fenella and you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

“I’ve had enough o’
this,” said Onyx, replacing his dagger and stepping around the woman. “I’ve told ye there is no one here by that name, now leave afore I curse ye.” He walked past the old man just then, and opened his eyes wide and glared at him. The man hid his face with his hand.

Onyx
hurried forward, hoping to find his mother and warn her. He wasn’t sure what all this was about, but it obviously was all a lie. He’d never been to Blackpool in his life, and his mother told him he was born in the Highlands. This old man was obviously mistaken.

He pushed past the entourage and bu
rst into the pub, searching the crowded room for his mother. He had to protect her from the English. They meant her harm, he could feel it in his bones.

He spied her at the drink board talking to old Callum MacKeefe. He made his way across the room, and sidled up to the
counter, not looking at his mother but rather just at Callum.

“Pour me a dram o’
whisky,” he said in a cool, controlled tone, then glanced over his shoulder, noticing the Englishwoman and her guards standing at the door. Callum was pouring the whisky and looked up to see what took Onyx’s attention.

“Friends o’
yers?” he asked in a low voice, putting the whisky down on the counter.

“They’re lookin’ fe
r mathair,” he said, picking up the glass and downing it in one shot. “More mountain magic if ye please.” He quickly pushed the glass forward.

“Onyx,” warned his mother, “ye’d better stop fer the nigh
t. Seeing ye blue again is no’ goin’ te be a bonnie sight. Twice in one night could likely kill ye.”

“More,” he just said, but Callum h
esitated. Onyx grabbed the bottle and poured it for himself. “Tell me why they’re looking for ye, Mathair.”