Page 60 of Highlander’s Burning Touch

It certainly didn’t seem as if the laird had been expecting to find his bride to be waiting for him. From what he had just heard, it sounded more like he was trying to get away from her.

Wondering what to do, Fingal battled on through the terrain and his confusion.

“So, what are ye going to do, marry her or nae?” he asked, as they finally came to a stop, mired in the slushy snow in the middle of a boggy field.

Behind them, Dughall and the others trailed on, miserably and even slower. Fingal could see they had no appetite to continue.

“Nae,” said Rory eventually. “I’ve been turning it over in my mind for weeks. I just cannae marry a lass as young as her… this is why I need to speak to ye an’ Niven so badly. But he always seems to be off out somewhere whenever I have tried to do so… this is why I wanted to get to the lodge. Where we could speak without the lassie being present…”

Fingal’s eyes went to the top of the hill, where the small cabin stood, slightly glowing from the firelight inside it. He wondered if his uncle could see it too – but Rory’s eyesight was not as sharp as it had once been, and if he did see the fires burning and the two horses tethered up outside it, he didn’t let on.

“So, ye wanted to come here, to get away from her, to discuss how to get out of the marriage, an’ return her to her family?” asked Fingal, unsurely. He didn’t really know what his uncle was driving at.

“Hm, the first part, but nae the second,” Rory said, pulling his cape tighter around his shoulders. The wind was really getting up now, and powerless to go forwards, he simply sat and waited for the others to catch them up. While they waited, he drew closer to Fingal so that he wouldn’t be overheard. “The thing is, like I said, the two clans have agreed on marriage. It’s been decided with the other clans too. This is the only chance of bringing peace to the region…Finally, the whole area will unite, under one laird…an’ I cannae go back on it.”

“So, what are ye goin’ tae do?” said Fingal. He had just about enough for one day and longed to be in front of a hot fire with a quaich of whiskey.

His uncle looked exasperated. “Well, the only way is if someone else marries her, instead.” Fingal looked blankly at him. His uncle looked exasperated. “From the clan.”

A light went on inside Fingal’s brain. Finally, he got what his uncle was saying. “Ye mean, ye want to…”

He knew it was stupid, but his heart gave a leap. All this time, living in the castle with the laird and his brother and having to play second fiddle. Now, finally, a chance presented itself, that maybe he could be more than an appendage.

“So, ye need someone to take the honor for the clan?” said Fingal, hopefully. He knew it was unlikely, but just in case, it wouldn’t hurt to show his keenness. “Because ye ken, I could do that, if ye wanted to…She’s about my age, an,”

Rory just laughed. Inside Fingal’s heart, a fire raged. He was sick of being dismissed as just a kid.

“Nae laddie,” he said affectionately. “Nae fash, yer time will come, an’ we’ll set ye up wi’ a nice lass…. Nae, I was thinking of Niven. He can marry her, an’ I will make him my heir… all official… what do ye think?”

Fingal felt his heart drop. Of course, it was stupid. His uncle was bound to choose Niven over him. What did he expect?

Forcing himself to smile, Fingal replied. “Well, it’s up to him, o’ course, if he’s over that Sorcha…!”

Fingal grinned. His brother’s tribulations with the haughty lass had been much discussed around the keep. But really, he knew he had no chance of changing his uncle’s mind. Fingal sighed and resigned himself to watching his brother marry into a powerful clan position. It was inevitable, really.

Before the laird could answer, they were joined by the three others. By now, the gray-haired counselor was barely able to conceal his ill-temper. And Fingal couldn’t help smirking at the sight of him, struggling to rub the snowflakes that were landing out of his beard.

Noisily, they assembled, their horses whinnying into the cold night sky. From the middle of an icy field, it was blindly obvious that they weren’t going any further.

However, Rory still was not convinced. “I reckon wi’ one more push, we could make it up that hill…” he asserted, to a general look of disbelief.

But Fingal put his foot down first. “Nae, sir, we cannae. We have tried in vain…The horses are tiring, an’ so are we…”

There was a tense silence, but suddenly, Fingal was too tired to care. All he could think about was getting warm. The relentless ice and snow were freezing up his brain. And if nothing else, he wasn’t ready for his uncle to discuss his plans with Niven just yet. He wanted time to think over what he had said, possibly work on him a little. With the right tack, he might even get Rory to reconsider offering Deva to Niven. Fingal was nothing if not an optimist.

Besides, it looked as if Deva might already be there. Her presence would make it hard for them to discuss anything. But he wasn’t ready to let his uncle in on his suspicions just yet.

Rory looked taken aback, but before he could say anything, his tired-eyed counselor got in first.

“The lad’s right,” cut in Dughall. Rory turned to look at him. Fingal could see from his eyes that he had more than enough right now. There were the beginnings of what looked like icicles forming in his long, bedraggled beard.

“What’s passable in the day is different at night… an’ the snow is making it impossible to do anything else…” Dughall continued, a little tersely. His face was almost blue with cold. It was evident he was at the end of his tether. A man of his years could only take so much of the Highland winter. “…Even if it is a wee bit further back to the keep, the tracks we have made in the snow will make it a wee bit easier to reach…”

“I can walk ahead, sir, no sense in wearing out all the horses,” said Fingal, eventually. “I dinnae think it’s possible, but I can try, an’ if it looks passable, I will return an’ we can all go…”

“Alright,” said Rory, finally, reluctantly, coming around. “Ye go ahead, while we wait, but for heaven’s sake lad, be quick!”

He nodded his assent to Fingal, who immediately jumped to attention. “Aye, sir,” he said. “I will be!”