Page 10 of Enchanted

Chapter Four

Rosalyn disappeared from his view, but his thoughts continued to centre on her. He had done all he could for Rosalyn until they knew more about why she had been attacked. But if her own people had run her through with a sword, her future in England did not look promising.

The thought of her in despair, as she had been in the woods, pained him. He knew nothing about Rosalyn except that she had been abandoned by her people and was now alone in this world. He knew that feeling well. Even though he’d been under a spell during his time with the fairies, he had always known he did not belong.

Keiran wiped his forehead, feeling the grit of the dust that had settled on his skin. He clenched his jaw, suppressing the urge to go after her and assure himself she was well. He had healed her abdomen, but had he missed some other injury that could put her in danger? He balled his fists, resisting the urge. God’s blood. What was wrong with him? She was betrothed to another. Even so, he’d never had this kind of reaction, this connection, to anyone before.

He stared off into the darkness as the men around him dismounted and turned their horses over to the stable hands. He took a deep breath and unfurled his fingers. He had to stay focused on the threat to the MacLeods and all the clans on the isle. The English soldiers had shown Rosalyn’s travelling party no mercy. He doubted they would be any less harsh with the Scots.

“Come,” Tormod said, breaking into his thoughts. “Alastair wishes us to join him in the great hall. No doubt to discuss our response to the information you brought home.”

Orrick appeared on the other side of Keiran and frowned. “Are you certain you are unharmed? You are much changed from when you left this morning.”

Tormod smiled. “Forgive me for saying it, but you appear less . . . lost.”

Keiran scowled at his older brothers. “The woman was in trouble. What else was I to do? Leave her to die?”

Tormod chuckled and clapped Keiran on the shoulder. “All I said was that your countenance had changed. I said nothing about the girl.”

“Do not pay him heed, Keiran,” Orrick said. “Of course, you are changed. You have been through an ordeal. I was simply asking if you had taken any blows we should be aware of.”

“I am more concerned about the English attacking the MacLeods than I am my own physical state,” Keiran replied.

“The walls of Dunvegan will protect us,” Orrick assured him as they made their way inside the castle and up the stairs.

“They haven’t always,” Tormod reminded his brother as they moved down the hallway and to the great hall. “We must be prepared for anything.”

Graeme, the captain of the guard, and Callum, their youngest brother, had joined Alastair at a table. Alastair spread out the parchment Keiran had brought before him, studying it silently. The pause gave Keiran a chance to study Callum as he sat across the table from the young man.

As if sensing Keiran’s exploration, Callum lifted his eyes—eyes filled with wisdom and sorrow—before shifting his attention back to Alastair. Not for the first time did Keiran wonder what had happened to the young man in the last nine years. Had he had the childhood that Keiran had missed? Or, even here in the human realm, had Callum been forced to grow up quickly in the absence of their mother and father?

Keiran was stopped from further ruminations as Alastair passed the missive to Tormod. “It appears several English regiments have moved north. I’m anticipating more will follow in the days ahead.”

“That cannot be good for the clans,” Orrick said.

Alastair nodded grimly. “I have heard rumours, and the English must have as well, that with war raging across the continent, the French are open to supplying James Stuart and his son, Charles, with financing, soldiers, and ships for another advance into Scotland.”

“The English must believe those rumours to be true,” Graeme noted with a deep frown.

Alastair’s gaze shifted to Keiran. “It was a risk, meeting up with the Nicolsons, but the reports they passed on are too important to trust to regular couriers. I’m concerned that the English army knows too much information about the Scottish clans and our business. We are going to have to try to stay ahead of their flow of information by obtaining our own, and trying to cut off whatever and whoever is supplying them with theirs.”

“I would go back to Struan if you need me to do so,” Keiran offered. It would be best for him to go, and alone, for if he was set upon, at least he could heal himself, keeping the rest of the MacLeods safe.

Tormod leaned his arms on the table and gazed intensely at Keiran. “Tell us what happened outside of Struan? The woman you brought home should have been dead, judging by the amount of blood on her clothing. How is she still alive?”

Keiran had expected such a question. “It was not her blood, but that of her assailant after I ran him through with my sword,” he lied, holding Tormod’s gaze and forcing away the remorse he felt at doing so.

To Alastair, Tormod asked, “What do you think ought to be done with the woman?”

“She stays here,” Keiran interrupted. “We need to discover why she was attacked when she was on her way to meet her betrothed.”

Tormod’s brows rose. “And by English soldiers. Do you not find that curious?”

“Of course, I am curious as to why. Only once we have answers from the man I captured can we know how to proceed with the woman.”

Tormod frowned. “If she was to meet her betrothed, she will be missed. Someone will no doubt come looking for her.”

“I suspect so,” Keiran agreed. “We must stay ahead of the English.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “Shall we go abovestairs and question the surviving soldier?”