“It’s the MacLachor crest,” he answered. “They want your chief and his brothers to meet them at Lord Harkirk’s fortress.”
Laren’s mouth tightened into a line and her hands started shaking. Though she managed to thank the priest, she focused her thoughts on how to get Adaira back. Alex had left to meet with the MacLachor chief only a day ago. Would he find Adaira there? Or had they already taken her to Lord Harkirk’s stronghold?
“I’ve come to speak with your glass artist—“ Father Ossian was saying.
“Father Stephen already inspected the windows not long ago,” Laren interrupted. Her mind was scattered, not wanting to think of the glass when her daughter had been taken captive.
The priest sent her a curious look. “Father Stephen?”
“Aye, one of your brethren.” She stared at him, not understanding why he wouldn’t know Stephen. There were fewer than twenty men at the abbey. “You sent him with the measurements and instructions for the kirk windows.”
“We have no priest of that name,” Father Ossian replied. “And the plans you speak of were stolen, nearly a month ago. The priest we sent was robbed of his horse and belongings after he tried to help a wounded man. He returned to us, and we had to redraw everything.”
The breath in her lungs seized up at the realization that Father Stephen was not who he’d claimed to be. Sweet Mother of God.
Laren let out a curse, for she knew, without any doubt, that the so-called priest had slipped past their boundaries and taken her daughter.
Alexawokethenextmorning to find men surrounding them. He unsheathed his claymore and stood with his brother, slowly moving until he stood back-to-back with Bram.
“We came to talk with your chief about Harkirk,” he said. “I want to know more about the bounty he placed on my head.”
A tall blond man moved forward, a shield and sword in his hands. “I am Brochain MacLachor, thetánaisteof our clan.“ With a glance to his men, they spread out their forces. “And the bounty was on the heads of you and your brothers.”
“We didn’t come to fight,” Alex said quietly. “But if you strike the first blow, we’ll defend ourselves. And I don’t think you want to lose any more men.”
Brochain’s face tensed, but neither he, nor his men, moved.
“Harkirk is trying to stir up trouble among the clans,” Alex continued. “He wants us to turn on one another, because dividing the clans will weaken us.” With his weapon held steady, he never took his eyes off Brochain. “The chief’s daughter may not even be alive,” he pointed out. “Why would you attack us instead of asking for help?”
“We lost a dozen men trying to break into his fortress,” the man admitted. “Even with your forces, we aren’t strong enough.”
“Where is your chief now?” Alex asked. He’d never met Finian MacLachor, though he’d heard of the man.
“He left us a few days ago to go after Iliana on his own.” But there were doubts upon the man’s face as though he viewed it as a hopeless endeavor.
“Our younger brother Callum was Harkirk’s prisoner,” Bram interjected. “He knows the interior of the fortress like no one else. We got him out alive. There’s no reason we couldn’t do the same for your chief’s daughter.”
“And why would you help us? Especially after we attacked you.” Emptiness settled over the man’s expression, as if he had little hope left.
“Because we’ve a greater need for allies than enemies. You have information about Harkirk and between us, we can put a stop to his threats against the clans.”
“How do we know you’ll keep your word?” Brochain asked.
“You don’t,” Bram replied. “But if you kill us here, what chance do you stand of getting your chief back alive?”
Brochain seemed to consider it and after a long moment, he sheathed his weapon. One by one, the others drew back. “Come with us back to Moristerry and we’ll talk.”
From the look thetánaistesent to his men, Alex trusted him even less. He kept his hand poised upon his weapon as he followed them down the hill toward the MacLachor stronghold.
Larenmountedherhorsewith Dougal and Callum at her side. Although they’d spent hours searching the surrounding areas for Adaira, there was no sign of her daughter. A dull, sick feeling had settled within her stomach at the thought of anything happening to her baby. There was no choice but to confront the MacLachors and take Adaira back.
“Gather the clansmen together,” she ordered Nairna. “I want to speak with them.”
Although her old fears swam in her stomach, she couldn’t hide behind her shyness. She needed the remaining men to help her for without them, her daughter might suffer.
“I’m sorry about Adaira,” Nairna said, her face pale. “I can’t even imagine the pain you must be suffering.”
“I’m going to find her and bring her home,” Laren insisted. “No matter how long it takes.”
