“If ye had stayed in the keep as ye ought, this wouldna have happened. Seamus will be punished for aiding ye.”
“Ye canna do that, Da. Blame me if ye must. I convinced Seamus to ride with me. But dinna blame me for what happened to Alber. He did no’ have to follow. Or to threaten me. He tried to kill Valkyrie first, but his arrow missed. He got nay more than he deserved.”
“And so shall ye. Get ye to yer chamber. I’ll deal with ye after the men return.”
Mariota realized she’d get nowhere arguing with her father. Meekly, she nodded and did as he ordered.
An hour later, he called her back. His men had found Alber unconscious, blood still seeping from the wounds on his neck and face.
“He does no’ deserve to die,” her father raged once he gave her the news. “Certainly no’ in this way! Killed by yer damn hawk? If the lads had no’ found him when they did, he would be dead, and MacKay would be without one of its best fighters. Ye, lass, are of an age to cause more such trouble. There are rough men here. More since Domnhall sent troops to fight Mar. I will see ye married. And soon.”
Mariota gasped. This was to be her punishment? Her father cared less for her than for the man who’d tried to ruin his daughter—his heir—and instead of punishing him, was determined to marry her off? To whom? Surely not Alber! The very idea made cold sweat trickle down her spine.
“And no’ to that lad Seamus. He may be yer friend and protector, but marriage to him does naught for MacKay. We need an alliance. And I know just where to seek one.”
“Nay, da. I dinna wish to marry. No’ Seamus, nay any other MacKay, and certainly no’ with a stranger.”
“Ye ken yer place, daughter. Ye will do yer duty for the clan.”
“Ye are punishing me for Alber’s actions.”
“Perhaps I am, but for yers as well. Ye must learn what ye do has consequences. In this case, ye nearly cost a man’s life.”
“He brought that on himself when he attacked me.” If nothing else, she had to make her father understand how dangerous Alber was to her.
“I will no’ argue with ye, daughter. Leave me now, or there will be even more consequences.”
He’d confine her to her chamber, or deny her Valkyrie, or something else she couldn’t bear. With gaze downcast, she nodded, turned, and left the solar. She would go to her chamber, but not for any longer than necessary. She needed time to gather her things, and to find a way to get out of the keep’s walls without being seen. Running away was dangerous, even foolish, she knew, but she knew her father. He’d do what he’d promised and marry her off, probably to some old laird of an enemy clan, for the sake of one of his damned alliances. She couldn’t bear the thought. She’d rather live on her own in a hut in the woods. With Valkyrie to help her hunt, she’d never starve. But first she had to free Valkyrie and get away.
Then she’d deal with the rest of her life.
Stellan raised a hand,ordering the hunting party to halt just below the next rise. They’d tracked the huge stag for three days,headed north toward MacKay. Stellan knew they were still on Sutherland territory, but they couldn’t go much farther. If they didn’t get lucky soon, the stag would escape them.
Their horses nickered softly, but no one spoke. Stellan dismounted, crept to the hill’s crest and stretched out on the ground to peer over it. The big stag had disappeared over the hill and into the thicker woods just beyond a wee glen that marked the boundary. Into MacKay territory.
His friend Tormund crept up and stretched out beside him. “See him?”
“Nay, and we’re at our border with MacKay. If he doesna wander back this way, we willna be able to keep after him.”
“Bollocks. We’ve been chasing that bastard for days. We canna lose him to the MacKays.”
“We can and we will. He’s crossed the border.” Stellan raised a hand to forestall Tormund’s objection. “Likely he wanders back and forth at will. If we wait, we’ll see him on this side again.”
Tormund eyed the sun’s position low in the southwestern sky, snorted and pushed up onto his knees. “Unless the MacKays get him first. 'Tis done then. I’m for making camp. Let’s let him live another day.”
Stellan nodded and got to his feet. As he did, the stag meandered out of the trees and back across the glen’s small clearing well ahead of them, nibbling at green shoots as he went. “He does no’ bloody care that he’s run us all over the countryside. Look at him.”
Tormund crossed his arms over his massive chest. “He kens we’re here.”
“Aye. And if we go at him, he’ll duck back into those trees on the MacKay side.”
A hawk circled over the stag and emitted a piercing cry.
The stag’s head came up and he froze.
“He’s too big for the likes of ye,” Tormund muttered, clearly addressing the raptor.
Before Stellan could answer, the stag bolted—straight for them.
