Chapter 17
“Ye canna go in there.” Alexander shouldered past Alasdair to the cave. He took up a spread-eagled stance in front of the entrance and blocked it.
Weariness in the slant of his shoulders, Alasdair glared at him as though he’d sprouted a second head. “Ye deny me shelter and a place at the fire? What the hell’s wrong with ye, cousin?”
Ian approached from the direction of where they’d penned the horses and thumped his brother on the back. “Perhaps his wife still sleeps. Best stay out here. There’s a fire over near the horses. Come.”
“Wife?” Alasdair repeated, scrubbing at the corners of his bloodshot eyes as though they burned with the need for sleep. “We were only gone two days. When the hell did ye have time to marry and how did ye manage to find a priest?”
“Yesterday.” Alexander motioned toward his younger brothers. “Duncan and Sutherland provided the priest.” The fresh memory of the captured priest with bound wrists triggered a clearing of his throat and forced him to add, "In a manner of speaking.”
“Yesterday. I see.” Alasdair seemed to struggle for civil words. “Congratulations,” he forced out with a weak-hearted clap of one hand to Alexander’s shoulder. “'Tis Catriona, aye?”
“Who else would it be?”
Alasdair opened his mouth and fisted his hand as though he wished to reply with more than words then stopped himself. He looked at Ian. “Show me to the fire, aye? I’m well past weary and no’ in the mood for…” He bit off his words. Glare shifting to Alexander, he shook his head and fell in step behind his brother.
Alexander turned his head, training an ear toward the inside of the cave. Alasdair could pout like a greetin’ bairn if he wished. Catriona needed her sleep. After a brief slumber, they’d awakened a few hours before dawn and further explored the pleasures of their marriage bed. Alexander hardened at the memory. Virginal, his new wife may have been but lore a’mighty, she was a woman of passion. The only sound emerging from the depths of the cave was an occasional rustling and a soft sigh.
He headed to the clearing of stone to the right of the cave where they’d tethered the horses. The men stood gathered around the fire in one corner of the sheltered space surrounded by boulders and chunks of stone that resembled the henges found in England and Wales. The horses munched on the horse bread that Murtagh had seen fit to stow in sacks tied to the saddles. With the heat generated by the shaggy beasts’ bodies along with the fire, the area was quite warm against the chilly morning.
“Well, he can still walk,” Graham remarked as Alexander joined them.
“Ye didna do it right then,” Sutherland said as he motioned toward the entrance of the cave. “Best ye go back and try again. Ye dinna wish to leave your lady a wantin’ and neither of ye should be able to walk after your wedding night.”
Alexander ignored their jests and helped himself to a dried oatcake and a cup of whatever hot swill Magnus had steeped in the dented pot snugged into the coals of the fire. Magnus was a firm believer in herbs to strengthen the body.
Magnus’s mother had been a renowned healer. A white lady respected by all until she’d angered the wife of a high-ranking noble in their village and fallen under a malicious accusation of witchcraft. Tried and found guilty, her sentence had been barbarous. Alexander stared at the ground, almost flinching at the memory. They’d crushed the poor woman to death beneath a plank of wood laden with boulders. For most nigh a year after it had happened, Magnus had spoken verra little, never forgiving himself for not making it home in time to save her.
Alexander frowned down into the cup then took a hesitant sip. The fumes from the bitter drink made his eyes water as he washed down the bite of oatcake. He worked his tongue against his teeth and swallowed again. He’d have to lick a horse’s arse to get the foul taste of that tea out of his mouth. “God’s teeth, Magnus, what the hell are ye trying to cure us of this time?”
“Stupidity,” Magnus remarked without looking up from the fire. He lifted the metal pot and smiled. “Another cup for ye?”
Magnus didna take well to criticisms about his teas.
“Damn, ye’re a surly bunch this morn,” Alexander observed with another flinching sip of his hot swill.
“None of us had the night ye had, brother,” Duncan retorted then nodded at Ian. “And wait 'til ye hear their news.”
Alexander sensed a looming darkness far worse than morning grumpiness. He turned his attention to Ian and Alasdair. “Ill findings?”
“Chieftain Calum Neal spoke the truth,” Alasdair said. “The king’s new regiment has already arrived at Fort William. Their sole duty is to search the Highlands for anyone who’s even hinted at an allegiance to someone other than King William.”
“And the leader of the regiment is rumored to be relentless,” Ian added. “Everyone said the same thing. Some even mentioned Glencoe.”
Glencoe. That failure still gnawed at Alexander’s gut. “If the king had a scrap of humanity about him, he’d order those responsible for Glencoe hanged.” Alexander moved to toss out what was left of Magnus’s herbal brew, then stopped himself when Magnus cleared his throat and gave him a warning glare. “Who be the leader of this regiment?”
“We never heard his name,” Ian said. “'Twas as though everyone feared to say it, as though he might appear like some evil demon.”
“Ye ken that the order to erase the MacDonalds came from the king himself. 'Twas an example for all to see.” Catriona stood on the plateau above them. The morning sun rose behind her, giving her a fiery halo as the wind ruffled through her still loose hair, fluttering the coppery strands about her shoulders. “Is the regiment headed forTor Ruadh?” she asked.
The men stilled, all of them staring up at her with their mouths ajar.
It took Alexander a long moment to recover from the feeling that God had sent a fierce warrior angel of fire to advise them. He blinked hard, cleared his throat, and took a final swallow of the lukewarm muck left in his cup. He held it toward Magnus. “Some for Catriona, aye?”
“Is the regiment headed forTor Ruadh?” she repeated as she climbed down from the stone shelf and joined them by the fire.
Alexander looked to Alasdair and Ian. “Are they?”
