Page 79 of Bride of the Mad Laird
He looked Tòrr up and down. “Only that they went south after they left here. They spoke a tongue I dinnae ken. They held two men as prisoners. I’d say they were yer lads, they wore the same plaid as ye. The smaller of the two, a red-head, was sorely injured. He didnae go with them, fer he didnae make it. We buried him outside the reaches of our settlement.”
That would have been young Jaimie Ferguson.
Tòrr 's blood was rising to boiling point. It was a painful blow to discover that one of his lads had been killed. And the other...?
He turned to Edmund. “Tell the men to make haste filling their waterskins, fer we must return with all speed tae Dùn Ara. Once MacDougall learns from our man that I plan tae wed the Lady MacInnes, I have nay doubt he will dae all in his power to prevent the ceremony from taking place.”
They left the fishing village and rode north along the coast, Tòrr pushing them hard making every effort to return to the castle before MacDougall made a move.
Even travelling during the night with few stops for rest, it was already dusk on the second day before the castle was sighted. By the time they trotted their horses across the cobbled courtyard they and their horses were bone weary.
To Tòrr ’s enormous relief he found a pleasant sense of normality, almost as if the dark cloud of threat hanging over them did not exist and there was nothing but sunny blue skies.
He dismounted and left Paden in the care of the grooms and made his way inside the keep.
The place was buzzing with preparations for the ceilidh. Claray hastened to greet him and Lyra was not far behind.
As always, she dazzled him with her beauty, her face flushed with pleasure at the sight of him, her yellow hair falling in a long braid down her back to her waist. She brushed back wisps of hair as she curtseyed.
“Welcome back, me laird.” Her eyes danced with delight as she regarded him and he caught his breath.
Dear God, thank ye fer allowing us tae get back here in time.
“Yer presence has been greatly missed, yet in yer absence all preparations have been made fer the ceilidh tomorrow night.”
He slapped a palm against his forehead and gave a short laugh. “The ceilidh...?” While his head had been filled with nothing but war and kidnapping, the castle had been bustling with preparations for a celebration which he had altogether forgotten.
“Lass, there are urgent matters in hand. I wish ye tae attend Faither Pádraig wi’ me at once.”
She shook her head, her brows drawn together in bewilderment, but she did not protest.
Taking her hand, he strode down the steps of the keep and crossed the courtyard, Lyra almost running to keep up with him. At the door of the priest’s lodging beside the chapel, he rapped loudly on the door and barged in without so much as a greeting when the grey-clad priest opened the door.
“Apologies fer me rude haste, Faither, but I have news that has chilled me blood. I fear the castle will soon be under attack, and the reason fer that attack will be the Laird Alexander MacDougall’s intent tae prevent our marriage from taking place and tae kidnap the Lady MacInnes.”
Beside him Lyra gasped and clutched his hand tighter.
The priest looked at him in horror.
“I wish ye tae marry us, Faither, without delay, fer I believe it is the only way we may deter this evil from assailing us.”
Father Pádraig shook his head. “I cannae. The banns...”
“Ye’ve published the banns already, tomorrow is Sunday and I wish ye tae read the banns twice, before yer Mass and at it close. That will satisfy the requirement fer the banns tae be published three times. After that, ye will marry us.”
The priest looked askance at this. “It is most irregular, yet I believe it will stand. I will advise the bishop that this step was taken under special circumstances, in an effort tae ensure the lady’s safety.”
“Good. I thank ye Faither, and we will meet wi’ ye on the morrow.”
With that, he turned, still holding Lyra’s hand and headed back to the keep.
Once they had ascended the stairs and were inside, he took her in his arms, planting a row of small kisses in her lavender-scented hair. “Now, I must leave ye. I have sad business tae attend tae.”
Her features crumpled with concern. “What is it?”
“I must go tae the croft belonging tae the family of Jaimie Ferguson and take them the tiding of their lad’s demise.”
Lyra blinked away tears. “I was told two of yer lads were missing. Was he...?”
