The sun was high when Ilysa awoke. Though she still felt groggy from her long night, she told herself she must go downstairs to see that everything was going as it should. She sat up. But then she remembered that the responsibility for managing the household was not hers—or at least it would not be for much longer—and flopped back down.
She stared at the ceiling and contemplated the events of the last two days. Between the arrival of Connor’s bride and the discovery that her father was the son of the MacLeod chieftain, she felt shaken to her foundations.
Alastair MacLeod is my grandfather.
No matter that by Highland tradition she belonged to her father’s clan, she would always be a MacDonald. She had told Alastair as much. She could no more go live with him among the MacLeods than she could live among the hated English. And yet, it made her feel less alone in the world to know that she had a grandfather who wanted her.
Alastair was gruff, much like her brother, and he seemed an honorable man. Despite the briefness of their acquaintance, she found she liked him a great deal. She felt certain that under different circumstances he and Connor would get along well. It pained her that her newfound grandfather and the man she loved would soon be waging war against each other, as MacLeods and MacDonalds seemed destined to do with regularity. If Ilysa needed it, that was one more reason to wed the MacNeil chieftain and leave Skye.
When she finally dressed and went downstairs to the hall, she found the men preparing for war. She stopped one of them, who told her that the chieftain expected the battle against the MacLeods to come soon, perhaps even before their other warriors arrived.
Connor was busy giving orders to the men, who all seemed to be in motion. When he saw her, he stopped in place. For an instant, his eyes burned into her. But then, he broke their gaze and abruptly left the hall.
Seeing him filled her with such a painful longing that she told herself it was just as well Connor could not bear to be in the same room with her. All day, Jane and her mother were constantly underfoot, adding to her misery. The two expected to be waited on and entertained, while all the other women oiled plaids to keep the warriors dry and prepared food for them to carry.
Just before sunset, a cheer went up in the castle when Alex arrived with fifty warriors from their stronghold on the isle of North Uist. Connor looked as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he greeted his cousin.
“Am I glad to see ye,” Connor said as they gripped forearms.
“I didn’t want to risk missing any of the fun, so I came early,” Alex said.
The sail from North Uist was shorter than the journey Ian and Duncan would make from the far end of Skye, but it was across open water, which meant Alex had a greater risk of being held up by bad weather—not that he would ever admit a mere storm could delay him.
“There’s my favorite lass in all of Trotternish,” Alex called out when he saw Ilysa.
He strode over to her and lifted her off her feet. As he spun her around, his laughter rang in her ears, and the oppression that had closed in on her all day lifted for a brief moment.
“Alex!” Connor’s voice cut through the hall, his tone so sharp that it was like a blade to her heart. “We must speak without delay.”
Connor turned on his heel and marched through the doorway to the adjoining building without a backward glance. When Alex raised his eyebrows at Ilysa, she shook her head.
“Ye can’t keep anything from me—I’ll get if from ye later,” he said with a wink before he left to follow Connor.
“Ilysa!” Jane called.
Ilysa was too weary and profoundly unhappy to humor Jane. Instead, she pretended not to hear, which was so unlike her, and went straight to her new bedchamber at the top of the keep. She began packing her things at once, determined to move forward with her plans—and to not give in and go to Connor’s bedchamber. Somehow, she must learn to live without him.
Despite his coldness toward her today, Ilysa felt her resolve weakening by the moment. All that saved her from going to him was the knowledge that Alex was in his chamber. The two would likely be up until all hours talking.
But how she wanted him. She fell across the bed and pounded her fists.Why, why, why can’t I have him? Why can’t I be the one he weds?She felt both confused and overwhelmed by loneliness. Perhaps things would look better in the morning when she was not so tired and did not miss him so much. But tonight, she let the tears come.
Tomorrow she would be brave again.
***
“Praise God you’re here,” Connor said when he and Alex were alone in his chamber with the door closed. “I need someone I know I can trust.”
“’Tis like that, is it?” Alex raised an eyebrow. “I thought ye would have weeded out Hugh’s spies by now.”
“They are like weeds,” Connor said as he poured them both cups of whiskey from the jug on the table. “Pull one and two more appear in its place.”
Connor told him about Hugh’s attack on the farms on the east side of Trotternish, the murder of the two guards, and the skirmish with the MacLeods that ended with heads in the river.
“Ach, that is bad,” Alex said, making a face.
Though it did not solve anything, Connor felt better after discussing all the disasters with Alex—all of them, that is, except Ilysa.
“I have news as well,” Alex said.
