Page 6 of Highland Storm

“Ye make no sense, lassie,” growled Lennox. “If our men attacked a single MacKeefe, why are they dead now instead of him?”

“The MacKeefe fought like a lion,” she exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anythin’ like it. He had the strength of three men. He was big and forebodin’.”

“What did he look like?” asked Euan, cocking his head.

“He was very tall and had lots of muscles. His hair was long and light brown with a golden hue.”

“Sounds like the Highland Storm,” said one of the other men. “I’m surprised their laird can still fight so well since he’s past his prime.”

“Nay, this was a young man,” she told him. “I dinna believe it was their laird. He travels with a red tail hawk that helped him fight by clawin’ at the men’s heads.”

“A hawk? Damn, that must be Storm MacKeefe’s son, called Hawke,” said Euan. “He’s twice the warrior of his faither.”

“Let’s get him,” commanded Lennox, reaching for his weapon.

“There are eight of us and one of him. Surely, he canna kill us all,” said one of the other clan members.

“Nay, please, dinna go,” begged Phoebe, already so upset by what she saw, and not wanting to lose any more men. “Take me back to the Highlands. Let my faither handle this.”

“Our laird canna rule or make decisions in his condition. Plus, we’re goin’ back with four less men than we came with,” Euan reminded her. “I think we need to even the score a little before we go.”

“I beg ye, dinna do it.” Phoebe couldn’t forget the horrible sight of seeing her clansmen killed right before her very eyes. “The MacKeefe is a ruthless warrior. We canna lose any more men. Please, take me back to Crookston Castle and let my faither tend to this silly feud between the clans.”

“It’s no’ silly,” said Lennox. “The MacKeefes are responsible for the death of yer cousin, or have ye forgotten, lass?”

“Nay, I havena,” she told them, missing her dear cousin, Osla, who was at one time like an older sister to her and also her best friend. Her father had told her many times while growing up that the MacKeefes were their sworn enemies. Phoebe often wished for her mother to console her, but her mother passed away when Phoebe was twelve. Even though she was only twelve years old, Phoebe ended up stepping in as Lady of the Castle.

When it seemed like the men weren’t going to abide by her wish, she decided she needed to be firm. “I command ye to take me back to my faither. And if ye dinna do it, and somethin’ happens to me, my faither will have all yer heads.”

“Mayhap she’s right,” mumbled one of the men.

“She is Laird MacNab’s favorite child,” said Lennox. “I dinna want to be the one to have to tell him she is dead.”

“No one’s dyin’,” snapped Euan. “We’ll go back to collect the bodies and then head back home.”

“Nay, we need to bury them here,” protested Phoebe. “In this heat, their bodies will start smellin’ before we get far. It’ll take a full day or longer to get back to MacNab territory. If we are attacked along the way, it’ll only slow us down to be haulin’ dead weight.”

Euan and Lennox spoke in hushed voices with their backs toward her. Then, looking over their shoulders, they discussed their plans while eyeing her. Finally, Euan turned around and nodded. “We’ll bury the dead and head back home,” he announced.

It was too easy. Phoebe’s gut told her not to believe him, but she didn’t have a choice. She was in their care and needed them to get her home safe and alive. There would be no traveling without them.

“Let’s go,” she told them, mounting her horse. “I’ll show ye where the bodies are.” As she sped away on her horse, she hoped they wouldn’t meet up with the son of the Highland Storm again, because the man was terrifying, even though nothing usually scared her.

* * *

“Hawke, I’ll have a word with ye,” called out Ian MacKeefe as he stormed across the practice field with Storm and Caleb following. Ian was a proud and strict man, having lost touch with Storm for years when they’d had a disagreement. He once had a hate for Sassenachs, but when he was reunited with his first English wife, Storm’s mother, that all changed.

“It looks like yer grandda is no’ happy about somethin’,” said Logan, not that any of them doubted what this was all about.

“It’s nothin’ new,” said Hawke. “Help me lift the caber.”

Logan and Ethan helped to stand the caber up straight and Hawke hunkered down, hugging the end and lifting it in the air.

“Hawke, we need to talk to ye,” called out Storm.

“Go ahead, Da,” said Hawke, looking up at the end of the tall caber as he took two steps backward to steady himself, and then two forward before he flipped the pole end over end.

“Och, that’s no’ bad,” said Storm, with a look of surprise upon his face. “Almost as guid as me, but not quite.”