Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 (63 page)

When Fingal and Gillian retired for the night he couldn’t help commenting, “Ailsa seems quite taken with Quinn MacKenzie.”

Gillian snorted. “Why should she be different than any other skirt-clad person in the room? I’ve never seen Fallon blush so much. Even Jeanne was smitten. By all that’s holy, I think a maid was at his elbow to refill his cup after every swallow.”

Fingal laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. “And ye, my lovely bride, were ye not equally captivated?”

“Well, I won’t lie, he is a fine looking man. But I am rather partial to dark hair, green eyes, and roguish smile.”

He pulled her close. “Are ye now?”

She gave him a saucy grin. “Oh, aye, I am. Do ye suppose he has any brothers like that?”

“Cheeky lass. Nay, he has five brothers and not a single one with green eyes.”

“Then I suppose it is a good thing I have ye.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Aye, a very good thing,” he said when she broke the kiss. “Gillian, love, now that ye mention Quinn’s brothers, I need to ask ye something. His brother Rowan is one of Niall’s guardsmen. He is to be married at Duncurra a few days after Roodmas. We are invited to attend the wedding.” She looked pensive. He was worried that a visit to Duncurra would be painful for her. Although it wasn’t where her father was killed, it was certainly Malcolm’s ill-fated siege of Duncurra that ultimately resulted in her father’s death. “It is an opportunity for us to reestablish ties with other clans.”

She sighed heavily. “Aye, we should go to the wedding. I’m sure it will be nice for ye to go home for a bit.”

“It will be nice to see my family, but Gillian, love, I am home.”

~ * ~

That night, Gillian lay in Fingal’s arms as he slept. She remembered the lie she had told her mother about possibly being with child. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too long before it would be true. She would like to have children with Fingal. After the persistent kindness and tolerance he had shown her, she knew he would be a good father. She had been taking Rhiannon’s herb tonic. It was supposed to help her conceive fine strong sons and she prayed it would soon.

Bodie padded quietly across the floor and climbed up on the bed, settling himself at her feet. She reached down and scratched his ears. “Are ye cold, lad? Is the fire dying too low for yer tastes?

His only response was a sigh as he drifted off to sleep.

Perhaps she shouldn’t let him stay on the bed. He was large already but perhaps when he was fully grown he would be too big to be on the bed. Still, she didn’t care. Held in her husband’s warm embrace with her devoted pet warming her feet, she had never been happier.

In just a few days Quinn MacKenzie had already proven himself an excellent addition to the MacLennan guard as the training of the MacLennan men began in earnest. Once a few more skilled warriors joined them, with any luck by the end of summer the MacLennan warriors would be significantly better prepared to defend the clan.

Now that Lent was over, they needed to replenish their stores of meat. During the evening meal, Fingal discussed plans to send out a hunting party the next day.

Coby said, “Laird, we have had reports of boar sightings by some of the crofters to our east. They are worried about the damage the beasts can cause to newly planted fields. Perhaps that is the prey we should aim for.”

“Aye, that is a good plan. One boar can be a farmer’s nightmare. Do we have any idea where to start hunting?”

Coby nodded. “We have found fresh signs of a wild boar foraging not far from here, just inside the forest, not too far from my mother’s cottage.”

Eadoin grinned in anticipation. “If it is feeding that close, it is likely we could bring the beast down within a day, perhaps two. Laird, ye haven’t been on a hunt since arriving. Ye should join us on this one.”

The idea was tempting. With everything that needed to be taken care of at Brathanead, Fingal had been working himself to exhaustion alongside his new clansmen. The opportunity to escape for a while and go on a hunt was hard to pass up. Still, having just recently won Gillian’s trust and affection he wasn’t anxious to leave her. “Nay, I should stay and attend to things here.”

Gillian cocked her head to one side. “Fingal, there is nothing here that can’t wait a few days. Go on the boar hunt. I can tell ye want to.”

“Aye, Laird, it’ll do ye good. I’d go if I were a few years younger,” Nolan said.

“As would I,” added Daniel.

“It has been too long since I went hunting. And ye’re right, Gillian, a day or two should not be a problem.”

“Then it is decided ye will ride with us in the morning,” Eadoin said.

“Ah, but I don’t want to risk leaving Brathanead undermanned.”

“I don’t think ye have anything to fear, Laird. I will stay behind with a sufficient number of men to see to our defenses,” Diarmad assured him.

“I will stay behind too,” offered Quinn.

Fingal grinned. “Well then, with Brathanead in good hands, I will go.”

~ * ~

Rising well before dawn the next morning, Fingal was surprised when Gillian too arose. “Sweetling, go back to sleep, it is still early.”

She ignored him and began to dress. “Nay, Fingal, I will join the clan in seeing ye off.”

“Seeing me off?”

“Aye, it has always been a tradition here to gather the men and beasts for a blessing just before a boar hunt. Boar hunting is dangerous.”

“Well, I suppose it can be a bit more dangerous than hunting other prey but if adequate precautions are taken, there should be no problems.”

“Aye, and one of the precautions we take is a blessing.”

Fingal chuckled. “When did this tradition start?”

“Years ago, back before my great-grandsire’s time. I think one of the laird’s sons was killed on a boar hunt. As the story has it, he boasted that he would kill the boar with only his dirk.”

“Aye some men think it is more sporting to kill a beast at close range but it is very dangerous to try and kill a boar that way.”

“I expect so,” Gillian said dryly. “It’s probably even more dangerous if ye drink yerself stupid first.”

“He was drunk?”

“So the story goes. Still, since then we always gather to bless the hunters.”

“I certainly won’t stand in the way of tradition then.” He smiled and offered her his hand. “Shall we go?”

When they reached the courtyard a large number of MacLennans had indeed gathered there. Even Donald and Owen, who were not known to be early risers, were in attendance. Added to the many men going on the hunt, there was quite a crowd. When the horses were saddled and the men ready to leave, Father Stephen invoked God and his holy angels to watch over them. The normally soft-spoken priest had to practically shout to be heard over the baying of the hounds.

When they were all properly blessed, Fingal turned to Gillian and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back, to the delight of the crowd. “Be careful,” she whispered.

“I will.” He assured her. “I have no intention of either drinking myself stupid or trying to kill the beast with my hands.”

She grinned. “Good plan.”

He gave her another quick kiss before mounting his chestnut stallion. The horse tossed his head and danced. “Con, lad, are ye excited? Ye want a bit more than just exercise too, don’t ye?”

As dawn broke they rode out of Brathanead village, across the small heath, and entered the forest near Rhiannon’s cottage before turning south. The hounds ran ahead of the men as the light morning mist swirled around their feet.

They hadn’t ridden far before they saw gouged tree trunks and other signs of the boar they sought. The hounds picked up a scent several times but then seemed to lose it. The path eventually took them in a northward arc. They stopped to rest the horses and eat near midday. Hearn took one of his best scent dogs scouting to see if she could pick up a trail. Before long he was back. “Laird, I think Bea has found a strong trail just to our west heading back towards Brathanead. She’s mad to follow it. There is a cliff just a little north of where we entered the forest this morning. If we drive the boar that direction, it will be trapped.”

“Well then, mount up men and we’ll follow her.”

Sure enough, once Bea led them to it, the baying hounds found a solid scent trail and they were off. Fingal found charging through the forest on a hunt invigorating. Soon they heard the boar crashing through the forest ahead of them and the men whooped with delight. Now they simply needed to run the boar until the dogs could corner it at the cliff. The terrain was rugged, but Con was strong and sure-footed. Horse and rider were one as they raced through the trees following their prey. The boar was tiring and the dogs would soon have him surrounded.

In hot pursuit, Fingal soared with Con, over a fallen tree, but as Con’s front feet hit the forest floor, the saddle gave an almighty lurch. Fingal was thrown to one side, head first. Heavy undergrowth broke his fall, but he still managed to hit his head. Everything went black.

~ * ~

“Laird, Laird, can ye hear me?” Eadoin’s voice penetrated Fingal’s pounding head. He opened his eyes to see Eadoin kneeling over him. “Laird, oh praise be, ye are awake.”

“Eadoin, what happened? God’s teeth, the boar!” Fingal struggled to sit.

“Nay Laird, ye took a bad blow to yer head. Ye need to rest a bit. The others have gone ahead to bring down the boar.”

“Where is Con? What happened?”

“Laird, it looks like the cinch on yer saddle gave way.”

“Is Con all right?”

“Aye, he stumbled a bit and seems to be favoring one leg, but Hearn thinks he will be fine. He is seeing to the beast now.”

Fingal struggled to rise again, pushing past Eadoin’s objections. “I have to check on him.” The man he considered his father, Laird Alastair MacIan, had given him Con when he went off to train with Laird Chisholm. Fingal had learned to be a warrior as Con learned to be a warrior’s horse. It was almost as if Con could anticipate his next moves. Fingal made his way to where the big stallion stood. “Hearn, is he hurt?”

“Not seriously, Laird. He will need a few days’ rest but he should be fine.”

Relieved, Fingal stroked the big steed’s neck. “Ye hear that, lad? It takes more than a wee stumble to stop ye, eh?”

“Laird, he’s not badly hurt, but I can’t rightly say the same for ye. Ye’ve busted yer head open.”

Fingal touched his head and winced. He had a painful knot and bloody gash just above his hairline. His arms and face had been thoroughly scratched by the underbrush. “I’m sure I’m a fine sight, but I’ll be all right. I don’t know how this happened. The cinch on my saddle was a bit worn, but not thin enough to break.”

Hearn walked over to the damaged saddle and frowned as he examined the cinch.

Eadoin asked, “Is something wrong Hearn?”

Hearn seemed startled. “What? Oh, nay, nothing is wrong. Just a broken cinch, as I said. Ye were lucky, Laird.”

Hearn looked directly at Fingal before glancing at Eadoin briefly. “Very lucky.” Clearly something was amiss and Hearn didn’t want to speak in front of Eadoin.

“Aye. I’m just thankful Con is not badly injured.” Fingal needed to be alone with Hearn. He turned to Eadoin. “Perhaps I should take yer horse and catch up with the rest of the men. I’ll tell them what has happened.”

“Certainly, Laird.” Eadoin led his mount from where he had been tied.

Fingal started to mount the horse, feigned dizziness, and stepped back down.

“Are ye all right, Laird?” Eadoin asked, taking the horse’s reins.

“Nay, I’m a bit light headed. On second thought, perhaps ye should go. I’ll stay here with Hearn and see if I can shake this dizziness.”

“Are ye sure, Laird? Ye may need me. They will come back soon enough.”

“Aye, I’m sure I’ll be fine. It is as ye said, I need to rest a bit.” Fingal lowered himself to the ground, leaning back against a tree, closing his eyes.

“If ye’re sure. I won’t be long.” Eadoin mounted his horse and rode away.

After a few minutes he opened his eyes. “Now, Hearn, what’s wrong.”

“Come look at this, Laird.” He picked up the cinch. “Ye see here? The strap broke where the leather is worn.”

“Aye, but that is what ye said, isn’t it? The strap gave way under wear?”

“Aye, but look at the split leather. The front edge of the strap, where the wear is greatest, is darkened with age. If it gave way purely because of wear, I would expect the last bit of it to look torn. But see here, along the back side of the strap? It isn’t torn. It looks as if it has been cut.”

Fingal couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What are ye saying? Ye think someone damaged my saddle on purpose?”

“Aye Laird, I think so. They cut into the cinch just behind the spot where it was most worn. The thing is, Laird, I saddled Con for ye myself. I checked his tack and it was fine. It hadn’t been damaged then. Someone did this after he was saddled. Being on the back side of the strap, ye wouldn’t have noticed the cut. Whoever did this weakened it enough to ensure it would break during the hunt while ye were riding hard or jumping.”

Fingal looked closely at the broken strap and the evidence seemed conclusive. “Hearn, why didn’t ye want to mention this in front of Eadoin? Do ye have some reason to suspect that he was involved?”

“Nay, Laird. I believe Eadoin is a good man. But this was a foul deed. If I’m right, someone was aiming to kill or injure ye. I wouldn’t have imagined any MacLennan capable of it. Still, I thought it better to let ye and ye alone know my suspicions first.”

“It must be one of the men with us.”

“I don’t know. It could have as easily been done before we left Brathanead. There were a lot of people gathered for the blessing. Someone could have gotten to Con then.”

“Aye, I suppose they could have.” This was hard for Fingal to believe. He knew a few of the MacLennans still resented his becoming laird. However, things were going well, they were becoming a stronger and more secure clan. “Hearn, don’t mention this to anyone. If someone means me harm, I don’t want to tip them off just yet.”

“I won’t, Laird, but have ye considered that it might not just be ye they mean to harm?”

“What makes ye say that?”

“The fire in yer chamber a few weeks ago. Ye said ye were sure ye banked it properly.”

“Aye, I did.”

“If ye hadn’t wakened in time, both ye and Lady Gillian would have perished.”

Fingal hadn’t wanted to believe the fire was anything other than misfortune. In light of the damage to his saddle that caused this accident, he knew Hearn was right. Gillian would have been killed too. But even if some still hated him, how could someone wish to hurt her? It didn’t make sense. “Hearn, the king’s edict was not unanimously welcomed by the MacLennans. In spite of their pledges of fealty, there might still be some who would wish me dead. But Gillian is loved. I can’t imagine that anyone wishes to kill her.”

“I can’t either, but the facts are the facts and ye need to face them in order to protect her.”

Dear God, could she be in danger? “I can’t understand why anyone would wish to harm her, but ye’re right. I can’t risk her life. I promise, I will find out who is at the bottom of this and I will protect her, Hearn.”