“Cormag, if ye wish to have yer wee blanket back, release the men in the bailey. Otherwise, the fae will fight at ma back as I claim Dunvegan for ma own. Or mayhap ma wee baby sister would like to spend summers here. I amnae telling ye again.” Kieran made to stab the flag with his sword, but Cormag rushed forward. Abigail and Ronan shifted to remain out of sight and behind the sail. Cormag didn’t need to discover they were already free.
“Give me back what the fae trusted to my ancestors,” Cormag demanded.
“Och, that’sourancestors. We are kin as ye like to claim. Mayhap they’d prefer to fight for the branch that doesnae keep using women to fight their battles. Or mayhap they gave ye the flag out of pity. They ken ye canna fight for yerselves, and ye need wee, wee fae to fight off yer scary enemies,” Kieran mocked.
“You’ve got boulders for bollocks, Kieran. I will give you that. You ken as well as I do that my branch can destroy you. Give us back our flag, and I will give you the MacKinnons and let you be on your way. Since we’re kin.”
“Ye canna have forgotten already why I’m here. Ye kidnapped ma sister and her husband.Husband. That now makes the MacLeods of Lewis and Raasay allied with the MacKinnons, who are allied with the MacDonalds of Sleat. That’s just our connections within the isles. That doesnae even begin to include our ties to the Highlands. Ye ken I have septs in Assynt. Ma father-by-marriage is the Earl of Sutherland. Ma uncles-by-marriage are the Earl of Sinclair and the Earl of Ross. Ma wife’s cousin married Tristan Mackay. Ma wife’s other cousin married the Mackenzie’s daughter. Dinna forget ma sister-by-marriage married Hardwin Cameron. The Camerons are the only ones who dinna live along a coast. The Mackays, Sinclairs, Sutherlands, and Rosses all sail, Cormag. All of them. The Minch isnae wide enough to escape us, but it’s deep enough to swallow yer entire fleet. I ken Abigail killed Donovan. Since I havenae seen Gordon, I’d guess he’s dead now too. That leaves ye. Ye havenae a direct heir left. Mayhap ma wife would like to spend our summers here.”
“You blather on and on. Empty threats, Kieran. My branch has always been more powerful than yours. Naught’s changed. I’m offering you mercy by considering MacKinnon’s release.”
Kieran draped the Fairy Flag over the tip of his sword and raised it to the sky. The sun glinted off the sword. “I’d say it’s all changed.” He waved his sword from side to side.
“Ye dinna understand what ye’re doing.” Desperation laced Cormag’s voice, making his burr pronounced as he inched closer. “Ye dinna want to bring the fae. Ye dinna want to be the one they take back. Ye ken the legend as well as I do. Ye ken we’ve used it twice and been victorious. Even if they fight for ye, ye willna survive. Think of yer wife and weans. What of them?”
“Ma wife would have already flown this if she were here. Count yer blessings she isnae because yer keep is still standing. Release Ronan and his men.”
“Aye. I said I would.” Cormag turned back toward the keep and yelled out his orders. Abigail and Ronan, along with the free MacKinnons and the MacLeods of Lewis, watched as Ronan’s men shuffled through the front gate. Their wrists and ankles were bound, but they were no longer captives. Some of Kieran’s men stepped forward to cut the men free. None looked back as they made their way down the dock. Ronan stepped away from the sail, ensuring his returning men saw that he was with them.
“Wait here, Abigail. I’m serious,” Ronan warned. Abigail nodded as she watched Ronan step onto the dock. He raised his sword and pointed it toward Cormag as he hiked the trail until he stood beside Kieran. “I ken ye’ll brag until yer last day that ye had me in yer dungeon. But remember this: ye took ma freedom for a sennight, but ma clan took yer brothers and yer flag. Donovan and Gordon are dead.”
Cormag looked at Ronan, then Kieran, and back to Ronan. He shuddered as he glanced at his castle before staring at the Fairy Flag. Kieran gave a pitying shake of his head before he took the banner off his sword and held it out to Cormag. The Skye branch’s laird inched forward until Kieran could fling it at him. Cormag caught it and pulled it to his chest, defending it like it was his child. But a malevolent gleam came into his eyes as he narrowed them toward Ronan.
“You’ll want to be on your way now.” Cormag’s brogue no longer controlled his speech. As Abigail listened, she thought his pretentious tone matched Cecily’s. She figured they deserved one another.
“Lady MacKinnon,” one of Ronan’s warriors called to her, keeping his voice quiet. “The bastard isnae lying. They attacked Dun Ringill two days ago. We heard aboot it while the men gathered in the bailey. They rode out in the middle of the night. We need to return.”
Abigail stared at the man for a long moment before nodding and turning to look at Ronan. He’d told her to wait in the boat, and she wanted to oblige, but she needed both her husband and her brother to cease tormenting Cormag, so they could depart. She whistled her call to Ronan, who immediately turned back to her.
“Dun Ringill, two days ago,” Abigail called out. A mask of fury settled on Ronan’s face, so terrifying that it made Abigail take a step back. He turned around and charged up the path. His sword was beneath Cormag’s chin before the man realized he stood on the brink of being the last brother killed for their attack on Ronan and Abigail MacKinnon.
“What did ye do?” Ronan hissed.
“You won’t know until you return to what’s left,” Cormag smirked.
“Mayhap I should let ye live and allow Robert to decide yer fate.” Ronan pressed his sword against Cormag’s throat until it punctured the skin. “But ye and I ken that’s nae how islanders solve our differences.”
“Even if I die, my branch doesn’t. My cousin will replace me. We will still rule this isle. You and your people are naught more than flies to be swatted.”
“See if ye can swat away ma sword, Cormag. Defend yerself.” Ronan stepped back, waiting for Cormag to draw his weapon. “If ye dinna, everyone will brand ye a coward. It willna be murder. I’m within ma rights. But ye willna die with honor. Ye will die the pathetic maggot ma father warned me aboot.”
Abigail watched Ronan, but her gazed shifted to her brother as Cormag reached for his sword. Kieran’s sword was lowered, but Abigail didn’t doubt her brother was prepared. She also knew he wouldn’t interfere in Ronan’s fight. She clutched her hands together as she waited to see what happened. The moment Cormag drew his sword, Ronan launched his attack. Cormag underestimated Ronan’s determination, assuming Ronan would be weak and easily fatigued after being nearly starved for over a week. In a blink of an eye, Cormag lay on the ground, blood gushing from a slash across his chest. Ronan wiped his sword on Cormag’s chest.
“I’m letting ye live, so ye can live with the humiliation that one wee woman killed yer brother and stole yer filthy scrap of cloth. Nay fae are coming to yer aid today. Dinna underestimate me or mine ever again, Cormag. Ye may claim to have the fae on yer side, but I’m descended from kings.” Ronan and Kieran spun toward the boats and jogged down the path. The boats were pushing away from the dock as the two lairds boarded their birlinns. Ronan’s weapon clattered to the deck as he pitched forward, unconscious before he landed.
Thirty-One
It was a three-day ride from Dunvegan to Dun Ringill, or a day’s sail, but Kieran ordered the boats to anchor for the night. The combined MacKinnon and MacLeods of Lewis crew left Dunvegan just before midday. Kieran couldn’t ignore that men needed their injuries tended, and the freed MacKinnons needed food and rest before they arrived at Dun Ringill for another battle. Abigail sat with Ronan’s head in her lap, stroking his hair. She’d fallen to the deck beside Ronan when he collapsed. Her hands roamed over him, searching for any hidden injury he hadn’t admitted. When she found nothing, she accepted that Ronan’s body could no longer withstand the strain. It demanded rest. As much as she feared what they would find at Dun Ringill, she didn’t argue with Kieran when he ordered them to go ashore for the night.
Unlike where they’d sought shelter in the cove on Lewis, the place they found on Skye offered cover from the snow that fell on that portion of the island. There was ample firewood and animals to hunt. They were on MacKinnon territory, even if they had several more hours’ journey until they reached Dun Ringill. Kieran carried Abigail ashore, while it took four men to get Ronan’s heavy body to land. His dead weight and the rough surf meant he was too much for one man to carry slung over his shoulder. Abigail fought not to laugh as she watched the men lumbering up the pebble beach, offering her an unobstructed view up Ronan’s plaid. She doubted he would appreciate her giggles or the humbling position he was in if he were awake.
He roused enough to drink from a waterskin and to ask about his men. Abigail looked around the group and found that most of the MacKinnons were in the same condition as Ronan. Her former clan members built the fires, went hunting, and set up shelters for the injured. A few of the MacLeods and MacKinnons had suffered injuries during the battle in the dungeon. Abigail offered to stitch them up, but Kieran assured her that the most important thing she could do was to stay with Ronan. Kieran’s order relieved Abigail. She didn’t want to leave Ronan’s side for even a moment, but she would have if they needed her sewing skills.
“The horses?” Ronan rasped as he leaned against a tree that his men propped him against to eat.
“We dinna ken,” Abe answered. The MacKinnon warrior was a guard who’d been locked in the storage building. “Most came ashore. But when they captured those of us swimming or who made it to land, they didna go after the horses. There were men waiting for us on the shore. It wasna just the seven boats that attacked. They were prepared to fight on the ground too. They herded us to the keep and kept us separated from ye. But we never saw what happened to the horses.”
“Lady MacKinnon.” Abigail looked at Benjamin, another guard locked in the bailey, as he offered her a rabbit that still sizzled. “Seeing ye that day—hearing yer whistle—made us hold on to hope. We kenned if ye were alive, we couldnae give up. They may have locked us up, but we swore our oath to protect the laird’s family and our clan until our last breath. They told us they killed the laird, but we kenned it wasna true. We kenned it when we saw ye. We could just tell, ma lady. Ye were spitting mad, but we didna see grief. Ye gave us a reason to keep going.”
