Page 12 of Highland Dove

“Nay!” Duncan’s hand slammed down hard on the table, knocking into his tankard, making it wobble. “I dinna believe it. After all, ye thought we were dead, too. Mayhap our da is still alive and Eideard is just mistaken.”

“It all makes sense now,” said Angus, finally slowing down. “If Da is dead and Eideard is chieftain, it is no wonder why our ransom wasna paid.”

“What about Mathair?” asked Duncan. “And Mari Stewart? Please tell me they are no’ dead, too.”

“I’m no’ sure about them,” said Storm. “I only ken what I’ve heard.”

“We’ve got to get home,” Duncan told his brother, jumping to his feet.

“Duncan, why dinna ye stay here for the night and go back in the mornin’,” suggested Storm, standing as well. “Ye need to eat and rest. Ye can face all this and find out more when ye have yer strength back and are thinkin’ with a clear head.”

“Nay, I willna wait,” protested Duncan. “What I need to do is take back control of our clan anon and make sure Mathair and Mari are no’ harmed. If Eideard has hurt them, I will kill him, I swear I will.”

“Ye are in no condition to fight anyone right now. Besides, it’s late and cold,” said Storm. “And there’s most likely another storm on the way. Wait until first light. I’ll give ye my room upstairs and a nice hot bath as well as food and Mountain Magic for the night. Anythin’ ye want. Just please dinna return to yer clan until first light.”

“He makes a guid point,” said Angus, licking his lips as another tray of food passed by. “Mayhap we should take him up on his offer.” The room was crowded and noisy. Loud music split the air, making Duncan long for a nice quiet place to rest in front of a warm fire. A hot bath and good meal and some well-needed sleep were tempting. But who was he fooling? He could never rest before he set things straight and saw to the safety of his clan and those he loved.

“Thank ye for the offer, Storm, but we’re leavin’,” said Duncan, turning to go, only to bump straight into someone.

Being short, Mari couldn’t see anything over the sea of people who occupied the Horn and Hoof. With the gypsy woman right behind her, she made her way toward the drink board, planning on asking the proprietor if he’d seen Duncan and Angus. But before she even made it across the room, a man bumped into her, knocking her off balance.

“Och, watch where ye’re goin’!” spat Mari, twisting her ankle. The man’s arms reached out to steady her, keeping her from falling over.

“I’m so sorry, I didna see ye,” the stranger apologized. Mari recognized that deep, rich voice and her heart skipped a beat. Her head snapped up and she was so shocked by what she saw that she could barely speak.

“Duncan?” she asked in a half-whisper.

“Mari,” said the man, holding her by the shoulders now and looking into her eyes.

“Duncan, ye’re alive!” she exclaimed, hugging him and kissing him on one dirty cheek. Then she pulled back to take a better look. His appearance shocked her. Sunken, tired eyes peered out at her from his dirt-streaked, gaunt face. His clothes were filthy, torn and tattered. The man looked so skinny that, at first, she wasn’t even sure it was him. Her heart about broke to see this hardened, strong, brave warrior looking so meek and vulnerable right now.

“I’m takin’ this along for the road,” came another voice, gaining her attention.

Mari’s gaze darted over to see Duncan’s brother, Angus, with a bottle of whisky in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other.

“Angus?” she asked, having no doubt it was him because of the way he was gnawing at the loaf as he walked. The big man never stopped eating. Since Mari’s sister, Tillie, liked to cook, Angus had spent a lot of time with Tillie and her children ever since the death of Tillie’s husband.

“Mari? What are ye doin’ here?” asked Angus in confusion.

“I’ll leave ye now,” Storm broke in. “And my offer still holds. If ye decide to stay the night, ye can use room number one at the top of the stairs.” Storm nodded to Mari and turned and walked away, getting lost in the sea of people celebrating.

“I came here lookin’ for Duncan. For both of ye,” Mari explained.

“I dinna understand,” said Duncan. “How did ye ken we were here or that we were even still alive?”

“I told her. I saw it in the cards.” Malmuira stepped out from behind Mari, making her presence known.

“Ye’re that old gypsy that used to visit our clan,” said Angus. “I always thought ye were fakin’ it, just to get money.”

“Hrmph,” snorted the old woman, crossing her arms over her ample bosom. “If ye werena so tight with the strings of yer pouch, ye would have paid for my services and ken that I tell the truth.”

“Ye could have at least read my palm and proved to me ye werena a fake.”

“Nay, I dinna work for free,” she spat, glancing over at Mari when she said it. Suddenly, Mari felt as if she’d taken advantage of Malmuira’s talent.

“Och, I’m sorry, Malmuira. Let me pay ye for helpin’ me find Duncan.” Mari reached for her coin pouch but the woman stopped her with a raised hand.

“Dinna worry about payment. Ye have enough trouble on yer hands.” She looked over at Duncan when she said it. “Problems that no’ even I can help ye with now.”