A sense of pride swelled in her breast as Ciara beheld Faolan across the room. He had restored her waning faith in mortals. Faolan wasn’t about wealth, power, and lands. His father had taught him at an early age his greatest asset was the loyalty of his people.
Ciara smiled, watching him where he sat at the table in front of the widest hearth. The roaring flames lit his face as though he viewed the pits of Hell. A distraught woman of advanced years flailed her arms before him, capturing his full attention. As she ranted her hands fluttered through the air as though she were about to take flight.
As Ciara noted the growing look of confusion on Faolan’s face, she wound her way through the crowded room to see if she might bail him out.
“Ye must hear me, Laird MacKay! Someone’s hidden him. I know they would try to spirit him away because he’s so verra fine.” Her snowy brows knotted over her crinkled eyes as her shaking hands dabbed at her tears.
“What’s wrong?” Ciara asked as she made her way around the table to stand at Faolan’s side. She took note of the cloudy appearance of the woman’s aura and wondered if Faolan realized this woman’s sense of reality might not quite agree with everyone else’s perception of the world.
Turning to Ciara, the frail old woman caught her lower lip between the only two teeth she had. As she chewed, she shook her head and wrung her hands in front of her. “He’s gone. Yet, I know he’d ne’er leave me of his own accord. He loves me more than life itself. Ye must believe me when I say someone ha’ taken him away. I havena seen him since the snow began to fall. Please, my laird and lady, I beg ye to call upon the guards. I beg ye to have them find him.”
“Find who?” Ciara faced Faolan and waited for an answer since the woman had been ranting in front of him for quite a while.
With a deep sigh, Faolan leaned forward with the barest shake of his head. “I am not quite certain, my love. So far, I havena been able to get her calmed enough to say. Whoever he is, she will only assure me that they love each other verra much.”
Ciara nodded. Someone the old woman loved. She’d already gathered that part. She put an arm around the woman and encouraged her to sit beside the fire. Settling down beside her, she glanced first at Faolan, then with his silent nod of agreement, tried to find out more. “What is his name so that we might call out to him? This would help us in our search.”
“Jasper. His name is Jasper. Please find him. I do love him so.” As she clenched her hands beneath her trembling chin, the woman moaned and gave way to another onslaught of tears. Huge teardrops rolled down her withered cheeks then splashed to her faded dress.
“Jasper?” Faolan mouthed the words to Ciara and motioned with the slightest shake of his head.
“Aye. Jasper’s my laddie. My only true love. He’s never left my side before.” As she wiped her tears with the back of a shaking hand, the old woman struggled to speak. “But the cold is so verra bitter. He will nay survive. Please. Ye must find him before he freezes to death.”
“Dry your tears. We’ll do our best to find him. No clansman will die in this storm. I promise we’ll start the search this verra minute.” Rising from the table, Faolan motioned for Maxwell and Angus to come to his side.
Ciara also rose and gave the woman a consoling pat on the arm before she made her way around the table to her husband. With a meaningful look, she nodded toward the stairwell and slid her arm through his. “We need to talk before you speak with Maxwell and Angus.”
Faolan patted her hand as he nodded at the teary-eyed woman where she still sat fretting at the table. As he leaned toward Ciara, he fixed her with a placating smile and traced a finger along her cheek. “Dinna worry, Ciara. We shall be careful in the storm. We’ve searched for kinsmen in worse weather then this.”
Ciara caught herself right before she rolled her eyes. Protective Highlanders. She had to remind herself in what century she currently resided. With a shake of her head, she graced Faolan with an indulgent smile. “I just thought you might want to know that Jasper isn’t exactly one of your kinsmen. I agree it’s important for you to find him but I might be able to help you figure out where to look.”
“Not a kinsmen? Yet, he has to be. Old Drealda has lived here all her life. I might not be able to bring her husband’s face to mind right now but I’m sure I’ll remember him once I see him. Jasper must be a MacKay. I just havena been able to place him.” Faolan patted Ciara’s hand. Then he turned to go, snorting out an impatient huff when she reached out and detained him once again. “All right, woman. I give up. Tell me what it is ye feel I must know.”
Ciara stretched, placed her mouth close to Faolan’s ear and whispered, “Jasper is her wee little dog and I think he’s curled up asleep in the kitchens by the bread ovens.”
Faolan shot Ciara a quick glance, then his mouth clamped shut into a thin line as he closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. “Are ye certain?” he muttered under his breath with an exasperated sigh.
“Positive,” Ciara replied with a grin. “She holds his vision so firmly in her mind, I’m surprised you couldn’t see his image reflected in her eyes.”
Ciara glanced over her shoulder; Maxwell and Angus had already worked their way across the room, weaving in and out among the people. Expectant looks on their faces, they almost stood at attention once they reached Faolan’s side.
As the period of silence between the three men grew longer, Maxwell tilted his head to one side and lifted his hands in the air. “Well? What would ye ask of us, Faolan? Why did ye call us to your side?”
“Aye, Faolan. What’s the trouble? From the look on your face, we thought it must surely be something dire,” Angus piped up, his hands behind his back as he leaned forward to listen to Faolan’s orders.
Faolan rubbed his chin, cleared his throat, and glanced about the room. His brows lifted as his gaze settled on the tapestries flapping at the windows of the hall. “What report do ye have on the fierceness of the storm? Have the winds abated any at all?”
“Ye called us over here for that?” Maxwell snorted as he glanced toward the windows. “Ye have eyes, man. Can ye no’ see the wind is still yankin’ at the plaids?”
Ciara bit her lip to keep from laughing as she stepped between the men. She widened her eyes in the most pitiful, helpless female look she could muster. “It was me, Maxwell. I am so worried about my sweet little mare. Are ye certain she’s snug and safe?” She ignored the slight choking sound of disbelief from her husband standing just behind her.
Maxwell’s face softened as he bowed his head and smiled. “Why, Lady Ciara, I assure ye the stables are quite snug and warm. Trust old Maxwell when I tell ye, all is well.”
His great round face lit up with an indulgent grin, as Angus also added his reassurance. “Aye, m’lady. I saw your wee lassie tucked away in her stall enjoying a bit of hay. Fear not, as soon as the storm passes, she’ll be ready to take ye for a ride.”
Ciara batted her lashes and sighed at the accommodating men, patting them each on the arm. “I feel so much better now. Thank you for reassuring me that my little mare is quite safe. But there’s just one more thing that is truly bothering me. But I hesitate to ask it.”
Both men stepped forward, their faces perked with interest. Each of them fell for Ciara’s helpless female bait…hook, line, and sinker. Ciara bit her lip to keep from smiling. This game was entirely too easily.
