Two bloodlines. One destiny.
The words leapt to Malcolm’s mind. For the first time, he wondered if Evie was the only Sinclair who would arrive from the future.
“The hour is late,” she added. “Mayhap you’d like to dine with us and stay the night?”
Malcolm thought of the promise he had made Callum—that he would scout the area to see if MacDonald was making any moves to attack again.
“I best be making my way home, my lady, but I do thank ye for the offer.”
He bid her farewell and headed for the great hall door to exit into the bailey and retrieve his horse. Duncan followed.
“I’ll see ye off, then,” the lad said.
As they headed out of the great hall and toward the stable, Malcolm was surprised to see Angus there as though he had waited for him to arrive. He glanced at Duncan, wondering if he was surprised to see his da. He wasn’t. When he came to a halt outside the stable, Angus gave him a nod of greeting.
“Malcolm. Ye cannae be thinking of leaving already?” Angus crossed his forearms over his chest, his sharp eyes assessing him. As though he had something in mind for him to do.
“Aye, I am. I made Callum a promise to scout the area.”
“Och, by God’s blood, laddie, did ye no see what happened to the village? I think we ken Rory and his men are still out there marauding.” There was fire in his words.
“And what will ye have me do?” Malcolm spread his hands in question.
Angus looked to his son who stood rigid next to Malcolm. Silent communication passed between father and son. Then his gaze flickered back to him. “Come with us.”
A skittering of apprehension went through him. He understood what Angus meant. He also understood if he participated in an event like that, it would raise the ire of his older brother, the laird of Dundale, once more. He had forbidden him to do anything rash again, especially after the last time he had taken matters into his own hands.
“Ye mean to retaliate,” Malcolm said.
“What kind of a laird would I be if I dinnae?”
He raked a hand through his hair and heaved a sigh. “I cannae—”
“Ye must,” Angus insisted. “Are ye a MacLeod or are ye no? If what my son and my lady wife said, our clans are to unite to defeat our common enemy.”
So, despite his claim he didn’t believe in the prophecy of the keystone, he appeared to have embraced it all the same. Because now it meant something and he was out for blood.
“It’s the only way to make sure they understand we protect our people,” Duncan added. “No matter the cost.”
He understood that, too. He understood, more than anyone, especially after Rory MacDonald killed his da in cold blood. He had felt he same as Angus and Duncan. He wanted vengeance. His jaw clenched with his indecision as he glanced from father to son and back again. There was a light of desperation mixed with fury in Angus’s eyes.
“When do we leave?”
***
It was a mistake. He knew it was a mistake and yet he went along with it. He had to show Sinclair that a MacLeod was not a coward.
The three of them headed out of the keep after sunset. Darkness shrouded them in shadows. The plan was to raid the nearby MacDonald village. The Sinclair laird wanted to take prisoners and ransom them back—retribution for killing his people and burning his village—but Malcolm was less than enthusiastic about that plan. He tried to talk him out of it, but Angus held firm.
They approached the village in the dead of night. All was quiet and still in the area. There was no candlelight in any of the windows, indicating all the inhabitants slept. Angus motioned for them to stop at the edge of the tree line. He dismounted. Duncan followed suit. He produced a torch. The striking of a flint was heard and then it flared to life. Malcolm remained in his saddle.
“Come, laddie,” Angus whispered and motioned for him to follow.
Reluctantly, he dismounted and brought up the rear. Duncan held the torch aloft as they approached the village, closing the distance between the tree line and the first house. But as they did, a crack of what sounded like thunder sounded.
They halted, glancing up at the night sky. But if there were clouds, the inky blackness concealed them. Malcolm peered at the sky, his heart beating wildly. He had heard this cracking boom once before. The first time, he hadn’t realized what it was until his da came to fetch Callum to tell him about the lass who fell from the sky—Evie.
But hearing it now raised all the hairs on the back of his neck.
