“Aye, ’twas me.”
“I was pleased to hear of it, that you’d halted the feud from becoming far worse.” Mary nodded. “Although what Colin MacKenzie was thinking by sailing in after Duncan and causing such a raucous, I’ll never know. He had asked his son to enter into a betrothal agreement with the MacDonald’s eldest daughter and that was what Duncan intended on doing.”
“Duncan never knew of his father’s ploy?”
“Nay, and our laird has no’ spoken to his father since that night.”
“Do you know the laird well?”
“Duncan’s here, right above-stairs meeting with some of his men in one of our private rooms. Even though you halted the battle at Dunscaith, he’s still been under attack from the MacDonald’s nephew in the weeks since. Gavin sneaks onto Duncan’s land, has slaughtered his cattle, a fair number of head.” Mary knotted her lacy shawl at the front. “Duncan hunts him, intends on teaching the man a lesson.”
“I had no’ heard of Gavin’s attacks.”
“Aye, he’s a menace that man is.”
A menace clearly she and Ethan needed to find and speak to, or more importantly, compel. If there was something she could do to ease the tensions between the clans, then she’d do it. “Leave this with me, Mary. I’ll see what I can do to aid you all.”
“’Twould be much appreciated.”
Footsteps pounded from above them and a dozen warriors wearing the MacKenzie tartan and heavy weaponry marched downstairs and entered the main room. At the head of the group strode Duncan himself. She’d never mistake him. He stood a good two hands over six feet, his massive two-handed claymore bobbing in the baldric strapped across his broad back. With his great plaid hooked around his waist and looped over one shoulder, he appeared every inch the mighty warrior she’d witnessed fighting in battle.
“I must go and see to the laird and his men. Stay here until I return.” Mary tucked a loose red lock from her top-knot behind her ear, snuck out and joined the men. She led them across the room to the tables underneath the far window, although Duncan remained standing at the base of the stairs, unmoving.
Muscles rippled as he rolled his shoulders, then as he turned, the light from the fire caught the dark stubble grazing his jaw and lit it a heavenly blue hue, the ends of his short black locks as well.
“Who goes there?” He peered into the darkened recess where she remained.
Oh goodness. She hardly needed to come face to face with him again, and certainly not here on his soil. Carefully, slowly, she backed away then ducked down the passageway and snuck inside the closest door and shut it behind herself.
Leaning back against the grooved wood, she let out a relieved breath and surveyed the antechamber. This private room with its lit fire and large central table surrounded by six high-backed chairs often housed men as they enjoyed a game or two of cards after a meal, but thankfully right now it remained perfectly clear.
She pushed off the door and walked past two burgundy padded armchairs in the corner next to William’s treasured chess set sitting on a low table between the two chairs. A flask of wine and two silver goblets sat next to the board with its wooden chess pieces, all lined up for a game. Mayhap someone had requested the room. If they had, she couldn’t remain here for too long.
The door whooshed open and Duncan filled the entrance, his brilliant blue gaze narrowing in on her. “Well, well, it appears you wish to hide from me, lad. Whatever for?”
Drat. It appeared there would be no steering clear of Duncan this night. She crossed her arms with a slap and muttered, “I’m no’ a lad, but the very lass who saved your big hide last month.”
His gaze flickered with surprise as he skimmed her from head to toe. “The only lass to save my supposedly big hide of late, happened to be a compeller by the name of Ella Matheson.” Small wrinkles fanned out from his expressive eyes as he studied her. “Remove your cap.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
“Do you fear me?”
“Hardly.” She always stood her ground, no matter her position.
“So I noticed during our battle on Skye. You’re also the very lass I’d hoped to find one day and express my gratitude to, although I never considered I might encounter you right here on my land. Would it be Mary you’re here to see? She was a Matheson afore she wed William, and even William’s mother holds a touch of fae blood.” His drilling gaze intensified. “Are you close kin at all?”
“Mary and my mama are friends. William and Mary are both kin and always will be.”
“Interesting.” He closed the door with a soft click and slid the bolt home. “I’ve a great desire to know more about you, Ella Matheson, and it appears I’ve only just scraped the surface.”