Return Of The Highlanders: The Guardian Part 5

Alex stopped so abruptly that Ian ran into him. When Ian pushed past him, he saw what-or rather, who-had caught Alex by surprise.

Sileas was dressed in a man's shirt and old boots, and she was mucking out a stall with a pitchfork. With streaks of dirt on her face and bits of straw tangled in her hair, she looked more like the Sileas that Ian remembered.

Her pitchfork was half-raised when she saw them. Her eyes widened, and then, very slowly, she rested the wooden end of the pitchfork on the dirt floor.

"Do not tell me ye have it in your head to leave," she said, looking at Ian.

"Just for a few days," Ian said, feeling unaccountably guilty. He had every reason to go.

"Ye cannot mean it," she said, her voice rising. "You've seen how it is here. You've seen what's happened to your da."

"Sil, a man must do what he must," Ian said. "The future of the clan is at stake."

"Hugh Dubh has been sitting in the chieftain's castle for weeks," she said, planting one hand on her hip. "I believe we can survive another day or two with him in it."

"Delay will only make things worse," Ian said.

"Ye cannot spare your mother more than an evening after the poor woman didn't lay eyes on ye for five years?" Sileas said.

Ian felt a twinge of guilt about that, but he had to go. To divert her-and because he was curious-he asked, "What are ye doing dressed like that and mucking out the stalls?"

"Someone has to," Sileas said, her eyes sparking green fire. "Your da can't do it. And your brother can't do everything himself, try as he might."

"There are other men who can do this," Ian said.

"Do ye see any men here to help?" she said, sweeping one arm out to the side. Her other hand gripped the pitchfork so tightly her knuckles were white. "We lost some men in the battle, and Hugh Dubh has forbidden the rest from working our lands."

Ian's father had not told him of this insult.

"Give me that, Sil," Alex said, using the voice he used to gentle horses. "I understand why you want to use it on him, but Ian won't be good to anyone if you stick that pitchfork into his heart."

When she glared at Alex and banged the end of the pitchfork against the ground, Alex lifted his hands palms out and stepped back.

"I can see," he said in a low voice to Ian, "the la.s.s adores ye still."

Ian decided to try his luck. When he started toward her, Sileas braced the pitchfork in front of her.

"Don't ye try to tell me what a man must do," she said, so angry that tears filled her eyes, "because the truth is ye are just playing at being a man."

She was straining his patience now. How dare she mock him? "Protecting the clan is not playing."

"A true man doesn't desert his family when they need him," she said. "And protecting the clan starts with your family."

This time, the truth of her words burned through him.

"I'll stay until we hear from Connor," Ian said, and reached out for the pitchfork. "Go inside, Sileas. I'll do this."

She hurled the pitchfork against the wall with a loud clatter that set the horses snorting, and stormed past him.

At the door, Sileas spun around to fling one last remark at him. "It's time ye grew up, Ian MacDonald, because your family needs ye."

Ian and Alex went to the creek to clean up, rather than dirty his mother's kitchen washing in the tub there.

"Mucking out the byre was not how I thought we'd be serving the clan," Alex said, sounding amused.

"It is a waste of our talents. We're warriors!" Ian said, Alex's good humor annoying him further. "We should be using our claymores, fighting our way into the castle, and tossing Hugh over the wall for the fish to eat."

"While Sileas mucks out the stalls for ye?" Alex said, raising an eyebrow and grinning. "Hugh Dubh has as much right to seek the chieftainship as Connor. We can't just toss him in the sea, as satisfying as that would be."

"But he's claiming it without being chosen, and he's no right to do that," Ian said. "He made a mistake by not calling a gathering and forcing the selection before Connor returned."

"I expect Hugh was waiting until he could share the sad news of Connor's demise," Alex said.

"It won't be easy to convince the men to go against Hugh while he holds Dunscaith Castle," Ian said. "We must find a way to show them that Connor is the better man."

"I'm starving," Alex said, tossing his dirty towel at Ian. "It must be time to eat, aye?"

"Something da said about what happened at the battle troubles me," Ian said, as they headed toward the house.

"What's that?" Alex asked.

"He said the English surprised him, striking from behind," Ian said. "You've fought with my father-the man fights like he's got eyes in the back of his head. How did the English get past him without him knowing it?"

Alex squeezed Ian's shoulder. "In his prime, your father was a great warrior-but he's grown old."

"Aye, he has," Ian said, his spirits sinking as he recalled his father's sallow cheeks and graying hair. "I should have been there to protect his back."

"How are ye feeling today, Payton?" Sileas asked, as she set the tray on the small table next to the bed.

"I'm missing a leg, so how do ye think I am?" he said.

She stopped herself from helping him sit up, knowing it would annoy him. Though she had a hundred things to do, Sileas took the chair beside him and forced her hands to be still.

"What are ye all upset about?" Payton asked, slanting his eyes at her as he lifted an oatcake to his mouth.

Sileas pressed her lips together.

"Come, Sileas, you're so furious it's making your hair curl."

"Your son is an idiot," she blurted out-and regretted it as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

"Which of my idiot sons are ye referring to?" Payton asked.

"I'll not hear ye say another word against Niall, and ye know it," she said. "It's time ye stopped blaming him for doing what he had to do."

"So it's Ian, is it?" Payton said.

"I fail to see why this is the first thing to amuse ye in weeks," she snapped. Despite her annoyance, Sileas was pleased to see a glimmer of his old self.

"What's Ian done to get on your wrong side so soon?"

She couldn't tell him that Ian had not seen fit to acknowledge her or their marriage-she had her pride-so she shared Ian's latest offense.

"He's no notion of what must be done with the crops and livestock," she said, folding her arms. It was Ian's responsibility now, and he would just have to learn.

"I raised Ian to be a warrior, not a farmer, la.s.s. He has more important things to attend to," Payton said, his expression turning stern. "I told him how that devil took Knock Castle."

Sileas said nothing, knowing that the loss of her castle was a festering wound to Payton's pride-and to the whole clan. Her step-da had bided his time for five years, then struck in the wake of Flodden when the MacDonalds were weak.

Payton set his plate on the tray and sank back on the pillows, looking pale.

"If it's any comfort to ye, I expect the Knock Castle ghost is haunting my step-da," she said, giving him a wink. "I doubt the Green Lady has let Murdoc have a single good night's sleep."

" 'Tis a shame your ghost doesn't carry a dirk," Payton said in a tired voice.

"Shall I tell ye how she warned me to leave that day?" she asked.

"Aye, la.s.s." Payton closed his eyes as she began and was asleep before she was halfway through the old story. It hurt her to see the great man so weakened.

The hands resting on the bedcovers were marked by battle scars that told a tale of their own. Yet she remembered how gently those big hands had encompa.s.sed hers the morning Payton had found her and Ian sleeping in the wood. Without waking him, Sileas lifted the hand closest to her and held it.

Payton was getting stronger every day. She could leave soon. With Ian here, he would do just fine without her. They all would.

But she feared that when she left she would be like Payton, always missing a part of her that was gone.

CHAPTER 6.

Ian stood in the doorway watching Sileas. This was the new Sileas again, all clean and combed in a moss-green gown-and so lovely he had to remind himself to breathe. She must have bathed in the tub in the kitchen, for her cheeks were pink and a damp curl was stuck to the side of her face.

He was surprised his father would let her hold his hand as if he were a child, until he realized his da was asleep. Though he was careful not to make a sound, she sensed his presence and turned. Today her eyes were the same dark mossy green as her gown, but touched with dew from tears that welled in her eyes.

"My mother said to tell ye dinner is ready," he said in a hushed voice. "Are ye all right?"

Sileas nodded and picked up the tray as she got up. When Ian stepped aside to let her pa.s.s, she said, "He's not a well man. Ye shouldn't have kept him up so late."

Apparently, Sileas had kindness in her heart for every member of his family but him.

"My father wanted to talk," Ian said, "and I think it did him good."

"I suppose you're right," she said with a sigh. "But have a care with him."

Ian followed the provocative sway of her hips until she disappeared into the kitchen.

He continued watching her as they ate their midday meal. With that full bottom lip, her mouth was made for kissing. Every time she puckered and blew on her stew, his heart did an odd little leap in his chest. And his heart was not the only part of him affected. His c.o.c.k was standing to attention, stiff as an English soldier.

Likely, Sileas was foul-tempered toward him for not making his intentions clear. He had trouble recalling his reasons for waiting as he watched her take a spoonful into her mouth, smile with pleasure at the taste, and run her pink tongue across her top lip.

Perhaps he should just take her to bed now and have done with it. If the price of following his desire was gaining a wife, well, it was time he had one anyway.

Alex, the devil, was sitting next to Sileas and plying her with his legendary charm. She threw her head back laughing at something he said. It was a lovely laugh-full-throated and sensual.

"I don't believe a word you're saying, Alex Ban MacDonald!" Sileas pressed her hand to her bosom as if she couldn't get her breath. "Five men, ye say? How did ye ever escape?"

"Ye mean, how did they get away?" Alex asked. " 'Twas nothing, really. I told them they could run, or they could die."

It irked Ian the way Sileas leaned forward with her eyes fixed on Alex, as if she were swallowing Alex's tale whole.

"There were only three of them, not five," Ian corrected, his words sounding peevish to his own ears.

Sileas turned to face him, her smile fading. Lord, but she had pretty eyes, even when they were dead serious, as they were now. The scent of summer heather tickled his nose. Did she use dried heather in her bath water? Ah, that meant every inch of her skin would have that lovely smell.

"Now that we've mucked out the byre," Ian said, "Alex and I are going to go speak to some of the men on this side of the island."

"And why do ye need to do that?" Sileas asked.

Ian raised his eyebrows. "Not that ye need to know, mind ye, but we intend to find out how the men feel about the prospect of having Hugh as their chieftain."

"I can tell ye the sentiment toward Hugh, as can Niall," Sileas said, slicing her meat with enough vigor to cut through the table. "But if ye must ask the men yourself, they'll all be at the church tomorrow."

"A priest is visiting the island," his mother explained. "Father Brian will be baptizing all the children born since he was here a year ago."

There was always a shortage of priests in the Highlands. Unlike in France, the church here was poor. Though Highland chieftains might allow G.o.d the use of their lands for churches and monasteries, they did not give their lands away. Because the church could provide little to support them, few men joined the priesthood, and a priest who married was not turned out. As with divorce and marriage, the rules of the church were not strictly followed in the Highlands.

"Waiting to see the men at the church seems a good plan," Alex said, giving Sileas a bright smile. "Wouldn't ye agree, Ian?"

Ian nodded, though he would rather go now, if only to feel he was doing something.

"And don't ignore the womenfolk," his mother put in. "Na bac einne na bionn buiochas na mban air." Pay no heed to anyone that the womenfolk do not respect.

"Sileas," Alex said, "what do ye say to you and me going out in the boat this afternoon?"

Alex was trying to taunt him; Ian glared at him to let him know he did not find it amusing.

"That sounds lovely," Sileas said with a soft smile for Alex. "But after I clean up the kitchen, I must have a word with Ian here."

She said his name like she might say pig s.h.i.te.

Then she turned to level a hard look at him. "When ye have finished your meal, can ye spare a wee bit of time to speak with me?"

Sileas might not look the same, but she was as direct as when she was a la.s.s running wild. Clearly, she wanted to know where she stood with him. Her sharp words reminded him that he would be wise to give himself time before deciding his fate.

"Do ye have no woman to help in the kitchen?" Ian asked, only partly because he wanted to divert her. They had always had one clanswoman or another who needed a home, living with them and helping his mother.