To Wed A Wicked Highlander

archer, I didnae realize the man was our own kin! Ye didnae even give her time. She would have found the stone.”

“Colin, spare me your excuses. Ye do your tasks at one pace, always have. By the time my stone is returned, I will be an old man. I told ye I need that stone before the king’s men travel to Lewis.”

“I donna understand. The MacDonell said two shots were made. If the MacDonell kept her within the walls, why would ye have Fearghas take another shot?”

His father’s response held a response of impatience. “Fearghas obviously missed. The second shot was meant for the MacDonell.”

“When the bloody hell did ye decide to kill the MacDonell?”

His father shook his head and waved Colin off. “It doesnae matter now. Sybella searches for the stone. Things couldnae have worked out more perfectly, if I say so myself. Now I just have to simply sit back and donna have to do a damn thing. The MacDonell will take care of our problem on Lewis by killing that blasted MacLeod, and King James will nay longer bother us. ’Tis only a matter of time before we MacKenzies rule Lewis.”

Fifteen

Sybella fumbled for a plausible explanation and her voice broke miserably. “Rosalia…I was searching for ye. I thought mayhap ye were trying to put Lachlann to sleep so I opened the door.”

“My seanmhair watches him, and I came to see if ye were going to join us or if ye wanted me to bring ye a tray.”

“I will join ye and Aunt Iseabail to sup. The walls of my bedchamber have started to close in upon me.” Sybella led Rosalia away from the door, trying desperately to mask the guilty expression on her face. She said a silent prayer of thanks when Rosalia followed her and appeared to believe the words that had hastily escaped her lips. No matter, Sybella recognized that she needed to be much more cautious.

When they entered the great hall, they saw Aunt Iseabail sitting at the table and holding Lachlann on her lap. With a bright smile upon her face, she bounced him gently on her knee. As Rosalia and Sybella approached the dais, Aunt Iseabail looked up.

“My great-grandson is quite a delightful lad.”

Rosalia giggled. “Give him but a few minutes, Seanmhair, and he will be back to his ways. Just like his father.”

“Be that as it may, until then, I shall enjoy him.”

Rosalia pulled out her chair and sat down beside Aunt Iseabail. “Would ye like me to take him now? I know he can become quite heavy after a while.”

Aunt Iseabail kissed Lachlann on the head. “Nay, I am having a wonderful time with him. He loves his seanmhair.”

Sybella sat down at the table and smiled. “Of course he does. He is a wise lad.” She reached for a piece of bread and took a bite. All of this searching did wonders for her appetite.

“How do ye fare, my dear?” asked Aunt Iseabail.

Sybella nodded, wiping the crumbs from her chin. “I am much better, thank ye. I am surprised Alexander and Ciaran havenae returned yet. Do ye think it will be soon?”

“I wouldnae expect them until later this eve. They did ride the entire way to Kintail, ye know. And leave it to the men. Once they start talking amongst themselves, time passes and they pay it nay heed. Unless, of course, it’s time for the midday meal or time to sup.”

Sybella and Rosalia couldn’t help themselves as they burst out laughing. This was definitely one of Aunt Iseabail’s clearer days. The woman was pure delight. In truth, Sybella hated to see Aunt Iseabail’s mind falter. And not only because of how Aunt Iseabail’s decline affected Alexander. Naturally Sybella felt sympathy for her husband, but Aunt Iseabail was the type of woman that simply grew on a person. Sybella truly cared for her.

Aunt Iseabail waved her finger. “Ye laugh, but ye best remember that ye two havenae been wed all that long. I’ve had years to discover the ways of men.”

Rosalia leaned in toward Aunt Iseabail and gave the woman a conspiratorial wink. “It doesnae take that long to figure out our men. I think Sybella and I already understand what ye mentioned, though. Food is definitely the way to a man’s heart.”

Without missing a beat, Aunt Iseabail responded. “Well, that or tupping.”

Rosalia brought up her hand to stifle her giggles while Sybella was half laughing, half crying from Aunt Iseabail’s blunt declaration. The woman was obviously in rare form this eve.

“What are ye two laughing at? I may be old, but I am nae dead.”

Sybella sat back, watching the jesting between Rosalia and her grandmother. She couldn’t help it when her mind drifted back to the many conversations with her own mother. Sybella realized she’d been far too long without female companionship—even crazy Mary. In truth, Sybella simply enjoyed hearing laughter, any laughter. Something she’d sorely missed as of late. Everything around her had quickly become far too serious.

When a thought of Colin popped into her mind, Sybella hoped her husband had remembered to deliver the message. Hopefully, she’d bought herself more time before her father decided to do something rash—again. Praise the saints. Her nerves were on edge. She wasn’t masterful in the ways of deception and didn’t like it at all. She’d almost been caught rummaging through Rosalia and Ciaran’s bedchamber.

When the meal was finished, Rosalia placed a sleeping Lachlann in bed while Sybella retired with Aunt Iseabail to the ladies’ solar—another place Sybella had yet to search. Perhaps she could find an opportunity to discreetly hunt for the stone.

The room was similar to the one at Kintail, with dainty pictures of the fairer sex wearing delicate gowns. At least the conversation was better than the same boring subjects at Kintail. When Sybella thought of the many times that Mary had reprimanded her for her stitching, a shudder passed through her. Surprisingly, life at Glengarry was becoming more like home.

Rosalia returned with a wine sack. “Finally, Lachlann is asleep. I brought us something to relax.”

“What is that?” asked Aunt Iseabail.

“My husband’s ale.”

Aunt Iseabail held her hand over her heart. “My dear, are ye trying to kill me? That ale will knock me out for days.”

“Come now, Seanmhair, a drink will nae hurt ye. In fact, it might be exactly what ye need. ’Tisnae only a man’s drink. Can ye grab some cups from the shelf, Sybella?”

Sybella grabbed three cups and placed them on the table. She sat down beside Rosalia, who poured a healthy amount of MacGregor’s ale into each cup and handed one to each of them.

“Before we drink, let me make a toast,” said Rosalia. “To kin.”

“To kin,” answered Aunt Iseabail and Sybella in unison.

Sybella took a mouthful, clamping her eyes shut as she swallowed. The liquid burned down her throat like the hottest of fires. When she opened her eyes, Rosalia had already poured the women another.

“’Tis your turn to make a toast, Seanmhair.”

Aunt Iseabail lifted her cup. “To my bonny Lachlann, the dearest lad in all the land.”

“Aww…Who couldnae drink to that?” asked Sybella. She took another mouthful and closed her eyes again as she swallowed. The liquid was warm as it traveled down her throat but not quite as bad as the first time—or in Alex’s study.

Aunt Iseabail placed her cup back on the table. “That is it for me, Rosalia. I am off to bed.”

“Ye cannae take your leave just yet. Sybella hasnae made a toast.”

Aunt Iseabail sighed. “All right. One more, and then I go to bed.”

Rosalia refilled the cups and then nodded to Sybella. At this rate, Sybella would not be able to search for the stone. She’d be surprised if she could make it to her bed on her own accord. Perhaps Aunt Iseabail had the right idea and Sybella should flee while she had the chance.

Lifting her cup, Sybella smiled. “To new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” Rosalia and Aunt Iseabail said in unison.