“He had two blades,” Keenan said (11 page)

Serena stared into Keenan’s deadly eyes. Fergus would die. She didn’t need to read Keenan’s thoughts to know it. Fergus knew it too, but he planned to take her with him.

Perhaps her death would break the prophecy? Serena focused on Keenan’s face, the scar running down his cheek that she longed to touch again, the pulse in his neck she wanted to feel beneath her lips. In that moment, she was able to sort through all the jumbled feelings she had about Keenan and his secret. In the space of a heartbeat, Serena knew that despite it all, she still wanted to feel another kiss from him, feel his hard body pressed against her. She wanted to live.

Serena sent an image to her pet. From high above the silent bailey filled with armed Macleans, an angry cry rent the heavy air. Chiriklò dove, an arrow from the clouds straight for Fergus Campbell. Before the man could press the blade against her neck, the sparrow’s sharp beak stabbed him directly in his wide open eye. He screamed wildly, the pain crashed into Serena. She closed her eyes and let her legs buckle. Before she hit the stone step, an iron like arm pulled her to the right and up against her peaceful void.

The muscles in his chest moved effortlessly to pull his sword back out of Fergus’s throat. Her eyes still closed, Serena felt the tortured mind of Fergus Campbell dim with his life.

“God forgive me…failed…” His last thoughts faded into the ether.

The clang of metal against granite rang through the bailey, and then she felt both of Keenan’s arms engulf her in warmth and safety. Her body shook on a silent sob.

“Serena,” his low voice vibrated through, warming her. He pulled back and bent to peer into her face. “Are ye with me, lass?”

“The boy’s mother is alive. Fergus was using Jacob to get close to Lachlan.” She swallowed hard. “If the boy didn’t cooperate, he’d kill his mother. She’s tied up at the back of a cave.” Serena turned in his arms and scanned the mountain range surrounding them. Using the thread, she closed her eyes and let it roam searching for emotion, for dread and pain. She pointed at one small mountain.

“There, she is there, in a cave. She’s hurt.” Serena’s limbs felt weak and her head pounded.

“Thomas, be quick. Gather a rescue party,” Keenan said to the men staring wide-eyed at Serena.

“Serena, are more Campbells out there?”

She shook her head just slightly causing the scene to sway. She sensed her sparrow washing in the nearby loch. But no others. “Not that I’ve sensed.” She took a deep breath.

Keenan nodded. “Thomas, a party of six.”

Chiriklò glided in and landed on Serena’s shoulder. He fluttered his wings, spraying her with droplets of water.

“Can yer bird lead them to the cave?”

Serena closed her eyes and sent the image to Chiriklò. “He will lead your men.”

Keenan nodded. “Thomas, follow that blue sparrow to the cave.”

“Aye, Keenan,” Thomas said, his voice slow, but he turned quickly. Horses trotted out and six strong men departed minutes later, Chiriklò a blue dart before them.

Keenan drew Serena with him as he stalked into the keep. “Where is my brother?” Keenan asked. Keenan looked down at her. “Ye must rest.”

Serena leaned further into him, relaxing and trying to rid herself of the taint.

“Lachlan, get out here,” Keenan called. The only sound that answered him was the surprised gasp of a kitchen maid as weapon brandishing Macleans filed inside. Keenan beckoned Elenor over to him. Jacob followed her.

Serena took the mug Keenan offered and drank.

“The Campbell planned to kill,” Keenan said.

“Fergus Campbell lived a miserable life,” Serena explained. “His one wish was to do something honorable. The Campbells think Lachlan’s support of Prince Charles Edward Stewart will bring in more supporters. They’ll rally and possibly win, giving the prince govern over their lands. The Campbells would rather stick with King George, a ruler they know. They think Prince Charles would lead Scotland into more bloody war with England. Fergus had decided to take it upon himself to wipe out one of the rallying points.”

“He had two blades,” Keenan said.

“One was for you. You first, so you couldn’t save your brother. The second was for Lachlan.”

“And ye kent his plan,” Keenan’s calm voice belied the tenseness she saw in his clenched jaw line. He wasn’t as calm as he tried to present. Maybe she was learning how to decipher some emotions from his face, like normal people had to do. She studied him as he continued. “So ye sought the poisoned blades and used yerself as a shield.”

“Not exactly.” Serena held up her fingers and waved them. “I sought the blades, but only to pick them from his pocket.”

“Ye were only able to pick one blade,” he said. “Ye knew that ye couldn’t grab them both.” She watched his jaw line begin to tick. Amazing what one could discern from another without using magic. He was angry, perhaps furious inside.

“I had to do something,” Serena said.

“I can protect my brother. I have since I could walk,” Keenan replied flatly.

Serena looked up at him, her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t grab the blade meant for Lachlan,” she said and looked back at the cup in her hands. Her hands shook slightly as she held it to her parted lips and sipped the broth.

Serena nearly jumped when she felt his thumb touch her cheek. “Ye protected me.” His words sounded calm, intrigued, so she looked back to him. But his eyes held fury, as if all of the emotion had drained from his words into them. “Doona do it again.”

Chapter 8

Serena swayed with the gentle roll of the horse’s gait as they clopped along the misty path against the green mountain. They rode south to find the letter and the true murderer. She traveled with Keenan and four other Maclean warriors. They were polite but made certain not to touch her.

Brodick, a burly man with reddish hair and small fuzzy beard, seemed the kindest. He answered her questions about some of the local foliage. Ewan had a handsome face and quick smile, but didn’t really want to talk to her. Thomas was suspicious of everything she did or said, his blue eyes always darting between Keenan and her. Gavin usually led the way. He preferred to ride fast, his shoulder length brown hair flapping behind him as he scouted ahead. They all were fiercely loyal to Keenan.

Their small group had four days journey back to Leeds and then south to Leicester where King George held court at a manor house. Serena hoped that the two courtly dressed conspirators would be near the moving court. If they had ducked out of royal society, they would be very difficult to find.

Serena sighed as she watched the dawn sparkle across the dewy grass. Her thoughts flipped between Keenan’s secrets and William’s health. Serena sighed again.

“So many sighs,” Keenan said. He pulled his horse back as the path widened into a narrow cut road. “Are ye bored of our journey already?”

Was he teasing her? Serena still wasn’t always sure how to read the slight changes of tone to know if he was serious or not. She looked at his handsome face, made even more masculine by the scar. There was a sparkle in his eyes, as if he smiled at her without the smile appearing on his lips. He was teasing her.

Serena grinned. “Perhaps the company,” she said so that the others riding near them could hear. “No one talks out here. I miss your sister.”

Keenan did smile then. “Aye, I miss her too. She is a whirlwind, but she makes me laugh.” He reached over and plucked off a small flower petal that had settled in her hair. He let the length run slowly through his fingers. Serena held her breath, savoring the feel.

Thomas snorted. “And that is quite a feat considering how ye brood so much, Keenan. The man’s smiling more out here as we travel than I’ve ever seen him,” he said and turned in his saddle to look at Serena.

Serena didn’t need to see the faint tightening of his lips to hear his unspoken suspicions. Thomas, just like the other three Macleans, believed Serena to be Lachlan’s soon-to-be wife. Their discomfort every time Keenan paid her attention felt almost like a physical obstacle that she needed to avoid.

One day gone, five to go,
Serena thought dismally as Keenan moved back up to the front of the line. What did he think of their disapproval? She watched Keenan’s broad back and shoulders. She would never love Lachlan. After reading the prophecy it did seem probable that she was the witch. But marry Lachlan? Not willingly.

They traveled for two more days along the spring roads into England. The trees and bushes were flowering and the woods were alive with the songs of birds and animals awakening. Chiriklò came to Serena after the first day and shared images from above to stave off the torturous silence and boredom. Serena even caught a comforting thought from Mari during her long hours of silence. The Faw Tribe moved through eastern England and would head back north of Leeds by the next full moon, about two weeks time. She tried to send an image of William healed to Mari but wasn’t certain she would pick it up.

It was the fourth night on the journey. They set up camp just north of Leeds in a grove of old oaks and birch. A creek ran nearby, and a cave sat empty. Gavin, who worried overmuch about most things including Keenan’s lighter mood around Lachlan’s bride, laid Serena’s pallet out in the cave. The five Maclean warriors set up their pallets near the entryway. They would take turns staying awake to guard against enemies and to guard Serena from walking too far west.

Moss grew along the rough walls of the cave. Moisture glistened on the contours of the exposed stone. Serena shivered and wrapped the wool blanket, crisscrossed in Maclean red, around her shoulders.

Keenan’s head ducked under the low entry. “Not asleep?”

Serena shook her head. “Soon to be. You’re not asleep either?”

“Soon to be,” he said mimicking her words. “After ye’re settled.” Serena shivered slightly. “Are ye cold, lass?” Keenan asked. He squatted down, pulled his cape from around his shoulders, and placed it over hers. The warmth penetrated immediately, and the masculine smell of pine and leather surrounded her.

“Thank you,” she said, and looked down at the layers draping her body. Keenan leaned so close that she could hear his breath moving between his lips.

“Won’t you be cold without this?” Serena asked.

“Nay.” Again silence sat like a wall between them. But he didn’t move to leave.
He looked around. “There’s a natural smoke hole toward the back of the cave. I could start a fire for ye.”

“I will be warm enough. Although,” she said as casually as she could. “If you sleep in here with me we will both be warmer.” Serena didn’t know what she hoped would happen if he slept near her, but she would feel warmer.

Keenan seemed to consider her words. “My men, Serena,” he hesitated. “They believe ye are Lachlan’s witch and soon to be his wife.”

“I know what they think, Keenan.”

“Ye can read their thoughts?”

“Yes,” she said and stared into his eyes.

“But ye haven’t touched them.”

Serena shook her head. “When the thoughts are strong or when I focus on a person, I can read their thoughts and emotions without touching them.”

Keenan sat back on his heels. Had she said too much? Would he label her evil, too?

“But not me, ye canna read my thoughts or emotions, can ye?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, but you are the only person I’ve ever met who has been hidden to me.”

“That is why I startled ye at the fair,” he said as if wanting confirmation.

She nodded.

“So if ye can read all these thoughts, why did ye not ken the prophecy when ye met my family?”

Serena scooted back up against the wall of the cave, trying to find a comfortable spot where a rock wouldn’t grind its way into her spine. “I separate myself from most of the thoughts around me, else I’d probably go insane. My duy
guided me in setting
up a wall to protect myself. Behind the wall, the constant chatter is dulled until I barely notice it. Then only strong or threatening emotions catch my attention.”

She shrugged. “And I don’t like to pry into people, partly out of respect for their privacy and partly because I’ve seen enough inside people to know that it is better not to know. Thoughts and feelings are raw, without civilized boundaries.” She looked him straight in the eye. “And I didn’t know there was some secret I should be looking for, a secret involving me, a secret that you could have easily told me before we arrived.” There, it was out, and she had managed to keep her voice even as if she hadn’t been deeply hurt.

Keenan sat down and leaned back against the wall to her right. “I wasn’t certain,” he hesitated, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Lachlan had looked so long, it dinna seem real that the witch of the prophecy could find me in England.”

Serena frowned over the word witch. She didn’t think of herself as a witch. Her duy had never called her a witch.

Keenan’s eyes followed the length of her hair until it ran under the blankets. “When I saw yer hair and eyes in the daylight, I still wasn’t convinced. Even when I watched ye perform some ritual over yer brother with that crystal.” He shook his head. “Perhaps I dinna want to believe it,” he said and shrugged.

“But when we rode up to Kylkern?”

“Yer bird flew to ye and I heard the gasps of the people. There was no denying that ye were different. I tried to say something then, but there wasn’t time.” His eyes searched hers. “I would have prepared ye more but what was there to say?”

“You could have started with, Serena, I think you are the witch in a prophecy that says you will marry my brother and lead my clan to peace.”

“While I die.”

Her jaw ached from clenching and she purposefully relaxed it.

“Would that have helped?” he asked. “Having me say those words before we arrived? Would that have given ye comfort or made the trip easier?” He shook his head.

“Either way, Keenan, I don’t believe in your prophecy.”

Serena breathed deeply, the musty smell of the cave catching in her throat. She coughed a little. Keenan leaned forward and pulled the plaid up higher until only her head stuck out.
Keenan touched the red waves as they cascaded down the plaid.

“It ripples like fire,” he said.

Serena held still, caught in the tingle of the soft touch. “Duy says it flows like red lava from a volcano.”

“She’s visited a volcano?” he said with the hint of a grin.

“Only in the stories from her father’s ancient texts.”

Keenan sat back. “A witch of great power comes with hair ablazin’ like fire,” he quoted.

Serena frowned at him. “Your prophecy may have some ring of truth, but that doesn’t prove it will all come to pass.”

“Do ye scry then into the future, too? Is that how ye saw Gerard’s murder? Have ye seen a different outcome for my clan?”

“I don’t have far sight, but sometimes I can tell when bad things will happen to someone. It’s not exactly the future, because the future can change. It is not set. And that’s why I don’t believe in your prophecy.”

“God sets the future,” Keenan stated flatly.

“Some aspects of the future can change,” she stated just as firmly. “When I see something that will happen in the future, it is very hazy and sometimes I see multiple outcomes. I’ve learned that sometimes when I try to warn away the disaster, I end up making it happen.” Keenan just stared at her. “Anyway, I felt death on Gerard when he grabbed my arm. A darkness seemed to envelop William when I touched him. Mari encouraged me to concentrate on the darkness.”

“Mari, yer mother, she is a,” he hesitated. “She can read people, too?” Serena shook her head. “She has some powers of perception, but not like mine. My real mother was a great priestess with immense powers. I suppose one could call her a witch, but she was good, not evil. She gave me her clairvoyance and sent me away.”

“Sent ye away?”

“Yes, to hide me,” Serena said slowly as flashes of memory surfaced. “My sisters and I,” she said quietly looking down at the blankets but not really seeing them. “Yes, I have sisters, and they’re hidden away too.” She frowned.

“Who are ye hiding from, Serena?”

“I…I am not certain. Something evil.”

Silence sat between them like a third person.

Brodick stuck his head in the entrance of the cave. “Wondering what was taking ye so long in here,” he said, his eyes moving between the two of them.

“We’re having a conversation,” Keenan said.

“A pretty quiet conversation,” Brodick quipped.

“I’ll be out before long. Who’s on first watch?”

“I am.”

“Then go watch.” The command was evident in Keenan’s voice.

Brodick ducked back out into the darkness.

“So ye focused?” Keenan asked as if not sure of the correct word. “Ye focused on yer brother and ye saw in,” he pointed to his head, “yer mind Gerard’s murder and William being shot?”

“Yes, and then I ran to him.”

“And yer bird arrived first.”

“I sent him.”

“So what exactly is yer bird?” Keenan said and looked around the cave to see if Chiriklò perched nearby.

“He’s a blue sparrow, and he’s not here right now.”

“Of course it’s a blue little bird, but what is it to ye?”

“A friend.”

Keenan’s eyes narrowed a bit. “A friend,” he said and ran his hand over the shadow of beard along his jaw. “Ye can think to it, and it understands ye?”

Serena nodded. “He’s a gift from my real mother. She didn’t want me to be alone.”

Keenan took a deep breath and let it out.

“Anything else you want to know about me?” Serena asked. The man looked a little besieged, which was almost humorous considering Keenan Maclean looked like a man who wouldn’t be overwhelmed by a lethal band of ten battle-ready warriors.

“Not right now, lass. It’s a lot to understand in one sitting.”

Serena nodded. She’d never shared so much of herself with anyone other than her duy before. It was vast. “So about you sleeping in here to keep both of us warm…”

“Lass,” Keenan interrupted, and stood up, “since ye canna read my thoughts I best tell ye then that I believe the prophecy is truth and that ye are the witch to lead my clan to peace.”

His lips seemed to tighten as the
stillness
invaded again. It would be so much easier if she could read his thoughts. The strained silences would at least tell her something.

“I agree that I do fit the description,” she said hoping to relax him. He didn’t relax.