Page 10 of The Return of the Heir

“I would love to hear more about your time away at school,” he prompted.

She set the bottle of fragrance aside. “Perhaps later. Right now, I’m more interested in why you would bring me this.” She lifted the silk from the package. “It resembles the fabric of the Fairy Flag.”

“Which brings me to my request. Now that I am home, I need to ready the men for a potential war with the clans. It would be easier to rally their spirits if the Fairy Flag were once more in its place of honour in the drawing room for all to see.”

She frowned. “It looks nothing like the Fairy Flag.”

“That’s where you come in. I would like you to embroider the fabric so that it resembles the original.”

She straightened. “You know I don’t sew that well. Nor is it as aged or distressed as the original.”

“You may bring one person into your confidence in order to see the task done. I am willing to pay them handsomely to keep their silence.”

Rowena’s brow furrowed. “Why would you want to fool everyone into thinking the flag has been returned?”

He hoped he could explain things in a way that would make her understand what he knew in his gut to be true. “The flag is such a part of our clan identity. Simply having the flag in our possession, magical or not, has helped us turn the tide in battle. I fear without it, we will fail no matter how well-trained the men are.”

She nodded. “It has felt like something was missing in our lives since it was stolen.”

By the MacDonaldshe wanted to add, but knew that comment would not help his cause given his sister’s attachment to Marcus. “Will you do it? Will you help me create a replica to take the flag’s place until I can get the original back?”

“You intend to steal it back?”

“I intend to bring the Fairy Flag home. One cannot steal back what rightfully belongs to them, only return it.” At her nod, he continued, “Will you help me and keep this secret between ourselves?”

After a short pause, she nodded. “I will ask Roberta, our laundress, to assist me. Not only is she loyal to this clan, she is a wonder with a needle. If anyone can distress the fabric to look aged, it would be her.”

“Thank you, Rowena.” He stood and moving to her side, pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I am so happy to see you, and I am proud of the strong, determined woman you’ve become.”

“Even if I want to pursue a relationship with someone you disapprove of?”

“I trust you, and because of that, I am willing to get to know him better during supervised visits.”

She nodded. “I’ve missed you, Alastair.”

“It is good to be home again.” He left her then, feeling cautiously hopeful that his plan to strengthen his clan mentally and physically might work after all. Still not ready to return to the great hall, Alastair wandered up to the one place where he felt truly at home.

The cool night air washed over Alastair as he stood atop the battlements of the old keep. He drew a deep breath of the familiar salt-scented air and felt himself slowly relax as he looked out over the silvery-grey waters of Loch Dunvegan. This was his special place—a place where he had come for years to escape his father’s dominance and to clear his head. Despite the fact his father was dead, the man’s spirit, it seemed, still lingered every bit as much as his mother’s did. The minutes passed by in silence as the grey sky faded to an inky black.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Graeme’s voice came from behind Alastair, breaking into his thoughts. “Everyone is waiting for you in the great hall. Mrs Honey has cooked a feast befitting the prodigal son.”

Alastair couldn’t help but smile as he turned to his friend. “I can only imagine.” Mrs Honey’s way of showing love was through her cooking. “I needed a moment after speaking with Rowena. She’s convinced she’s in love with that MacDonald boy.”

“He’s hardly a boy.”

“You know what I mean. What if the MacDonalds are only using her to get to me and infiltrate our clan?”

Graeme lifted a brow. “Are you so certain the lad isn’t truly in love with your sister?”

“How could he be? Our families have been rivals for centuries.” Alastair sighed. “I knew coming home would be hard, but I thought the demons I would face would be less tangible—the memory of my father, the spirit of my mother, and my own pain over losing Gwendolyn on our wedding day. Not enemies amongst us and poor security by untrained men.” He gave a soft sigh. “I’ll find a solution to Rowena’s infatuation, and all else that needs set right.”

“None of that sounds very diplomatic. Didn’t you come here to be a peacemaker?” Graeme asked.

“I thought the peace agreement would be between the MacLeods and the MacDonalds, not members of my own family and clan.”

“Needless to say, you’ve got your work cut out for you, but then again, you were never one to give up no matter how difficult the task.”

Alastair turned back to the balustrade, his gaze shifting to the south and the Fairy Tower. Had his mind been playing tricks on him when he’d seen Gwendolyn’s face in the window? What other explanation could there be?