Page 4 of The Devil in Plaid
Chapter One
Lady Fiona MacDonnell gently rocked forward and back in her saddle, lulled by her mount’s slow and steady gait. Recent heavy rains had battered the region, making the earth soft beneath her horse’s hooves. Tilting her head back, she gazed up at the canopy of leaves overhead and admired the beams of sunlight slanting through the trees. Fiona seldom ventured far from Castle Creagan, but since her betrothal to Adam, Laird MacKenzie’s son, she had journeyed to the MacKenzie stronghold on three separate occasions. Despite the recent frequency of her travels, her inexperienced backside ached, and she longed for the quiet of home. Still, the beauty of the day provided a distraction from her weariness.
Lost in a dreamy haze, she hadn’t realized their party had stopped until her horse nickered and stomped at the ground. Now alert, she scanned the line of warriors in front of her. Then she twisted in her saddle to look back.
“Why do ye think we’ve stopped?” her maid, Esme, asked from her seat on the horse next to Fiona’s.
“I do not know,” Fiona replied. “But I’m going to find out.” She moved her mount off the road to the right, passing several warriors. Bramble from the roadside snagged at her skirts, but she could now see Alasdair, the captain of her guard, speaking with Broden, a young warrior known for his easy laughter, although neither man looked to be in good humor at the moment.
“Alasdair, why do we delay?” Fiona called out.
Alasdair looked back at her, then motioned for Broden to follow him before he nudged his horse through the throng of riders to reach her side.
“Forgive me, my lady.” Alasdair said, bowing his head. His hair fell forward, covering his face. When he straightened, she met his gaze. He was a seasoned warrior with silver hair at his temples and intelligent, brown eyes. “The bridge over the river is out,” he told her. “It must have been damaged during the recent storms.”
The Luath River, which fed Loch Luath, divided much of the MacDonnell lands on the west from the territory of the Clan MacLeod—their fierce enemy. Inwardly, Fiona groaned. She wanted nothing more than to be home, but she would never put her own comfort above the good of the clan. “It will have to be repaired,” Fiona said, straightening in her seat with resolve. “Do what ye must. Esme and I will wait.”
“The bridge shall be repaired,” Alasdair answered. “But, forgive me, my lady, I dare not lead that effort now. By yer father’s command, we’ve been charged with the task of ensuring yer safe passage home. The bridge will have to wait.”
Fiona knew Alasdair was right. If her father were present, he would insist Fiona and Esme be taken safely home first. “I trust yer judgment, Alasdair, but which road do we now take?”
“That is what Broden and I were discussing,” Alasdair answered. “I’ve suggested we head east to the pass over the Urram Hills.”
Broden nudged his horse closer to Fiona, drawing her gaze. “While I think we should take the western road.”
“I did not give ye leave to speak,” Alasdair said, looking pointedly at the young warrior.
Brows drawn, Fiona turned to the captain of her guard. “Why do ye oppose Broden’s suggestion?”
“His course will lead us onto disputed land.”
“Forgive me, Captain,” Broden blurted. “But the ownership of the land is not in dispute. The land belongs to us, either ye believe that or ye’re siding with the MacLeod.”
Alasdair’s eyes narrowed on the young warrior. “Ye ken I’m considering the well-being of our lady. We’ve not enough men to ensure her safety if we’re attacked. ‘Tis our land, make no mistake, but Jamie MacLeod doesn’t see it that way. If we were alone, I would take the western road just to anger the blackguard, but I will not encourage his wrath while Lady Fiona is in our company.”
Fiona was surprised when Broden continued to push his captain. “Our lady’s betrothal to Adam MacKenzie is widely known,” the young warrior began. “Surely, the MacLeod is not reckless enough to attack us now that we’ve allied with a clan as mighty as the MacKenzie. Also, the longer our journey, the greater the risk. Yer route will add half a day, and it brings us closer to Craobh Forest, which ye know is full of tinkers this time of year.”
Alasdair frowned. “I am captain. Ye go too far, Broden MacDonnell!”
“Might I settle this?” Fiona interjected, nudging her horse between the fiercely scowling warriors. She smiled warmly at Broden. “I do appreciate yer loyalty and courage, but I learned long ago to heed Alasdair’s advice; however, would ye take lead, Broden?” Her smile deepened. “Ye’ve such keen instincts. I will feel safer seeing ye up ahead of me.”
A hint of crimson colored Broden’s cheeks as he bowed. “Ye honor me, my lady.” He tugged on his reins, bringing his horse around, then wove his way back through their entourage. After Broden was out of ear shot, Alasdair turned and smiled softly at Fiona, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Well done, my lady.”
Fiona dipped her head in modest acknowledgement of his praise.
“Shall we push on for another hour?” he asked.
Fiona nodded. “I cannot wait to be home.”
“I look forward to our return as well, my lady.” Her captain bowed once more. Then he turned his horse about. “Clan MacDonnell,” Alasdair called out, drawing the attention of his men. “We ride for the Urram Hills.”
After nearly an hour passed, the forest road began to climb. At the top of the wooded hill, large jutting rocks cut through the soil, which thinned out the towering Scottish pines, providing Fiona with a view of the Urram Hills in the distance. Cloud shadows moved slowly across the rugged slopes. Despite their steep terrain, Fiona looked forward to the views the hills would provide of the surrounding countryside. The thick, verdant forest, although beautiful, had begun to feel confining, and she longed for space and a refreshing breeze.
“Would ye like to stop and rest a while?” Alasdair called back.
Tempted, Fiona closed her eyes and imagined sitting beneath a shaded tree. For a moment, she had made up her mind to stop for a spell, but then she took a deep breath and pushed her shoulders back. Resting would only delay their return. Before she could give her answer, however, she had to ensure Esme was in agreement. Turning to her maid, she asked, “What say ye?”
Esme strengthened her own posture. “True, lasting comfort will only come when we reach Castle Creagan. Do not ask the men to stop on my account.”
