Sunlight streamed through the open window, filling the chamber with warmth. She was alone at last. Earlier, Lady Kylie, Lady Tara, and both Arabella and Grace had bustled in to help her settle. They’d plied her with questions and enthusiasm until Fiona had gently—but firmly—explained that she worked best alone at this stage.
Arabella had looked crestfallen, but Fiona promised to call on her once the weaving began.
Time stretched on. The sun warmed Fiona’s back, yet still she stared at the sketch on the parchment. However, inspiration failed to spark.
Worry clenched in her chest.Curse it. Without a detailed drawing, she couldn’t begin the tapestry itself. She had to get this foundational stage right.
Murmuring an oath under her breath, she set down the charcoal and stepped back, dusting her hands. “Time to visit the rat-catcher.”
She found Tay in the cellar under the kitchen, changing his traps.
A grisly sight awaited her—two enormous brown rats, bloated and stiff. Their naked tails sent a shudder through her.
She’d never liked rodents. And these were monsters.
“Castles always draw the biggest rats,” the older man said mildly. “Plenty of food.”
Midge bounded over, its sharp wet nose nudging Fiona’s ankles.
She crouched and stroked the terrier’s head.
“Wee Midge likes ye,” the rat-catcher observed with a begrudging smile. “That’s one mark in yer favor, lass.”
Fiona smiled back as she straightened. “I was hoping to bend yer ear this morning, Tay … if ye have the time?”
He raised a brow.
“I want to hear about the Battle of Dounarwyse. In detail.”
A broad grin split his weathered face. “I was wondering when ye’d come asking. Glad ye didn’t wait too long.”
She exhaled softly. “I can’t plan without seeing it clearly in my mind. And ye have a way of describing things.”
“Well then,” he said, “let me finish here, and we’ll take a cup of ale in the kitchen.”
Fiona stiffened. She’d already faced down Essie when she’d come in search of the rat-catcher. The woman wouldn’t like them cluttering up her space. “Why don’t we walk the walls instead … ye can show me where it all happened.”
5: YEARNING FOR THE FORBIDDEN
THE FIRST THING Ailean focused on upon his arrival in Ardnacross was its ruined tower.
It crouched atop a knoll, north of the village, blackened and scarred by fire. Its walls had once been stout and commanding, but now jagged stones jutted into the sky, the work of a Mackinnon raid decades past. That attack had left the tower hollow, a reminder of the violence that had passed through these borderlands.
“Ardnacross has endured much,” Rae said beside him as father and son rode along the smooth track into the village. Piper ran alongside the laird, pink tongue lolling.
Pushing hair from his eyes as the wind gusted off the Sound, Ailean surveyed the place he’d visited only the day before. The Sound of Mull glinted like steel beneath the noon sun, so bright it hurt his eyes. Breathing in the scent of woodsmoke, his gaze drifted to where the scattered cottages crouched beneath a pale sky. The dwellings huddled close together, as though for warmth against the wind off the water. Even during the summer, the wind often held a bite here.
“It sits too close to the border,” he replied. “Kendric Mackinnon razed the tower himself, didn’t he?”
“Aye,” His father answered, his expression growing grim at the memory of his old enemy. “I never rebuilt it. Perhaps I should … one day.”
Ailean snorted. “Aye, well … that’s quite a job.”
“I suppose I’ve put it off,” his father replied with a shrug. “I wished to see how things went with the Mackinnons.”
“Ye never expected them to become friends … family, even?”
“No.” Rae chuckled ruefully. “Strange, isn’t it?”
