Victoria Roberts: To Wed A Wicked Highlander

Alex flopped down on the bed and Sybella pulled up the blankets, snuggling into his chest. He did not embrace her as he always had and his arm lay draped across his forehead, his eyes closed. When he didn’t speak, she lightly ran her fingers over his chest. Perhaps he was more troubled by Aunt Iseabail than he cared to admit. No matter, she was sure he would speak to her when he was ready.

Sybella swore she had just closed her eyes when she woke up to an empty bed. She stood, spotting her torn nightrail on the floor while memories flooded her from last eve. She couldn’t help but sigh. She shook her head and rubbed her brow, remembering her husband’s keen eyes and inscrutable expression. She wondered what had happened since his visit with Aunt Iseabail. At any rate, Alex was probably busy preparing for his travel to Lewis. She briefly wondered if her father would appear this morn and stop her husband from taking the MacLeod’s head.

She walked to her chamber, washed, and quickly dressed. As soon as she opened the door, she saw Rosalia standing there with Lachlann in her arms.

“Sybella, I hate to be a burden, but could ye please watch Lachlann for a bit? Ciaran and Alexander practice their swordplay in the bailey, and Aunt Iseabail wants to take a walk to visit my uncle’s grave. We left ye a tray in the great hall to break your fast.”

Not realizing she had overslept, Sybella extended her arms. “It would be my pleasure.” She took Lachlann and smiled. “We shall have a grand time.”

“Thank ye. I shouldnae be that long and he has already been fed.”

“Donna worry. We will get along just fine.”

Sybella carried Lachlann to the great hall and sat down to break her fast. His little hands pounded on the table and then he started to chew on his fists. She played with him in between bites and was amazed that the boy never failed to put a smile on her face.

She kissed him on the top of the head. “Ye are such a bonny lad.” He looked up at her with his azure eyes and smiled—with his fist still in his mouth.

When she finished her meal, she called his name and he looked up at her. “Why donna we watch the men practice their swordplay? Would ye like that?” She took his cooed response as a yes.

They walked out into the bailey and were greeted with the sounds of banging swords. Alex and Ciaran were surrounded by a group of men, and Sybella made her way over to a bench. She sat down with Lachlann, and when he spotted his father, his tiny arms flailed and his body shook up and down. It was almost as if the little man tried to greet his father.

Ciaran stopped and nodded to Lachlann. “Ye are still too young to pick up a sword, but let your father show ye how ’tis done.”

Alex deflected Ciaran’s blow and turned to face her. When their eyes met, Sybella smiled, but his expression darkened. He raised his broadsword over his head, striking Ciaran’s with a loud scrape.

Sybella became instantly wide awake and flew to her feet.

MacGregor grunted when Alex sliced his arm. “Watch it, MacDonell, lest ye forget this is swordplay.” The man briefly stopped to check his scratch, but Alex continued to strike at him again and again.

“I didnae forget. I am in need of a bit of sport.” When MacGregor came down hard on Alex’s sword, pain shot up Alex’s arm and he almost lost his grip.

MacGregor’s eyes flashed a gentle but firm warning. “I donna mind sparring with ye, but if ye continue to swing at me like ye’re in the heat of battle, I am going to fight back. And I ne’er lose.”

Alex deflected another blow. “I was counting on it.” He was trying to clear his mind the only way he knew how. It was only a matter of time before Sybella took the stone, and he needed to be prepared. He was determined that this would be the last battle with the MacKenzie. And Alex had no intention of losing.

MacGregor looked over Alex’s shoulder. He dropped his sword and shoved Alex into the wall. “Your wife took her leave with my son. What the hell is wrong with ye?” he asked between clenched teeth.

Alex nodded for his men to depart and MacGregor released his grip.

“I prepare to raise arms against the MacKenzie.”

MacGregor raised his brow. “Is there something ye want to tell me, or are ye just daft?”

Alex grimaced. “To be truthful, I donna even know where to begin.”

“Howbeit instead of trying to provoke me into killing ye, we have a wee bit of ale and ye can tell me all about it.”

Alex wiped the sweat from his brow. “Aye, let’s speak in my study.”

The men rested their swords against the wall and made their way to Alex’s study. MacGregor closed the door and sat down in the chair while Alex poured them each a tankard of ale. Alex took a healthy mouthful and swallowed. He placed the tankard on the desk and looked MacGregor in the eye.

“My wife is a traitor.”

MacGregor kept a blank expression upon his face. “And ye think this why?”

Once Alex opened his mouth, words flew out like a raging river. He told MacGregor the entire story and then some. After a while, he wasn’t even sure of all he’d said. When he finished, MacGregor finally spoke.

“Ye need to think this through and donna let your anger guide ye. Aye, the lass sent a missive, but ye donna know the meaning of her words. Ye think ye do.”

“Hell, MacGregor. What else could she possibly mean?”

Ciaran shook his head. “I donna know, but I have seen the way she looks at ye.”

Alex sat back, momentarily rebuffed. “What has that got to do with anything?”

“All I know is that the lass looks at ye the same way Rosalia looks at me. And I know my wife loves me.”

There was a trace of laughter in Alex’s voice. “ Love ? She doesnae love me. She betrayed my trust. She is a MacKenzie. She knows of the stone. She—”

“Hasnae taken it.”

“Yet.”

“I will give ye my advice, but ye will do as ye will. Donna speak with Sybella about this until ye know for certain. Mayhap she does know of the stone, but mayhap she also loves ye and isnae a traitor.”

Alex clenched his jaw.

“I know this isnae easy for ye to hear, but ye see the lass with your Aunt Iseabail and Lachlann. How could someone with so much compassion do such a thing? All I can say is this—give your wife a chance. If she takes the stone, ’tis another matter entirely.”

“I have John watching her every move.”

“And ye are laird. Ye do what is necessary to protect your people.” MacGregor poured himself another tankard of ale.

“I’ll be damned if I let my clan fall to the MacKenzie.”

“I would expect naught less.”

Alex sat back. “Do ye think me a fool for marrying her?”

“I think ye did what was necessary to better your clan. ’Tis what we all do.”

“But ye wed my cousin and she had naught.”

“Now that is where ye are wrong, MacDonell. Rosalia had everything I could possibly want.”

Sybella waited all day and nothing happened. No messenger. No Colin. No word of her father calling off this ridiculous quest to Lewis. She could no longer postpone the inevitable. She needed to remove the stone and place it back in its rightful place. If her clan wouldn’t stop this madness, she would.

Nightfall had arrived some time ago, and she was somewhat surprised that Alex had not come for her. She opened the adjoining door and saw a mound on the bed. When she heard a low rumble, she knew he slept.

The time was now or never.

She wore her dark cloak and kept to the shadows. The men more than likely had sought their beds since they wanted to take their leave before first light. And since it was a warm eve, she thought perhaps they slept out in the fresh air as they had done for the last several days. At least, that was her hope.