Margaret Mallory - The Guardian

Duncan stood still, his expression serious, as she put a stone in his mouth and rested her hand on his head.

Almost at once, a powerful feeling of loss and longing stole over her and weighed down her spirit. She lifted her hand, being too old to bear it for long.

“Are ye sure ye want to hear, laddie?” she asked softly.

Duncan gave her a level look and nodded.

“I fear you’ve sad days before ye,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “But I will tell ye this. Sometimes, a man can change his future.”

Duncan spit out the stone and gave her a polite “Thank ye.”

The chieftain’s son was last.

“What I want to know is the future of our clan,” Connor said around the stone in his mouth. “Will we be safe and prosper in the years to come?”

His father had come to ask her the same question not long ago. All she had been able to tell him was that one day he would have to send this son away to keep him safe.

When she put her hand on Connor’s head, she heard the moans of the dying and saw men of her clan lying in a field soaked in Scottish blood. Then she saw the four lads as strong, young men, on a ship, crossing the sea. She grew weary as the visions continued, one after the other.

“Teàrlag, are ye well?” Connor asked.

When she opened her eyes, Alex handed her a cup of her own whiskey, saying, “A wee nip will do ye good.”

She narrowed her good eye at him as she drained the cup, wondering how he’d found it.

“I see many perils ahead for all of ye,” she said. “Ye must keep each other close, if ye are to have any hope of survivin’.”

The lads appeared unimpressed. As Highlanders, they knew without foretelling that their future held danger. And as lads, they found the notion more exciting than worrisome.

They were young, and a wise woman did not tell all she knew. After considering what might be of use for them to know, she said to Connor, “Ye want to know what ye must do to help the clan?”

“Aye, Teàrlag, I do.”

“Then I will tell ye,” she said, “the clan’s future will rest on ye choosin’ the right wife.”

“Me? But it’s my brother who will be chieftain.”

She shrugged. He would learn soon enough of the sorrows to come.

“Can ye tell me what woman I must choose, then?” Connor asked, worry furrowing his brow.

“Ach, the lass will choose ye,” she said, and pinched his cheek. “Ye just must be wise enough to know it.”

She looked to the cottage door just before the sound of the knock. Alex, who was closest, opened it and laughed when he saw the little girl with wild, unkempt red hair standing there.

“ ’Tis only Ian’s wee friend Sìleas,” he said, as he pulled her inside and shut the door against the cold.

The girl’s large green eyes took in the room, then settled on Ian.

“What are ye doing wandering alone outside in the dark?” Ian asked her.

“I came to find ye, Ian,” the girl said.

“How many times must I tell ye to be careful?” Ian tightened his mantle and turned to the others. “I’d best take her back to her da.”

The old woman thought the lass’s da should be skinned alive for letting the wee bairn wander about as he did. But he was not the sort of man who had much use for a daughter.

“Were ye no afraid the faeries would snatch ye?” she asked.

Sìleas shook her head. Ach, the poor child knew that the faeries steal only the children who are most precious to their parents.

“Come on, then,” Ian said, taking the wee girl’s hand. “I’ll tell ye a story about a selkie as we walk.”

Sìleas looked up at the lad, and her eyes shone as if God himself had sent the strongest and bravest warrior in all the Highlands to be her protector.

CHAPTER 1

ISLE OF SKYE

Scotland

1508

Sìleas’s outstretched hands bumped and scraped against the rough earthen walls, touch replacing sight, as she raced through the blackness. Small creatures skittered before her, running in fear as she did.

But there was no echo of footsteps behind her. Yet.

A circle of gray light appeared ahead, signaling the end of the tunnel. When she reached it, Sìleas dropped to her hands and knees and crawled through the narrow opening, mud dragging at her skirts.

Brambles scratched her face and hands as she scrambled out the other side. A burst of clean sea air surrounded her, blowing away the dank, new-grave smell of the tunnel. Sìleas sucked in great lungfuls of it, but she had no time to stop.

Startled sheep stared or trotted out of her way as Sìleas clambered up the hill. She prayed that she had not already missed him. When she finally reached the path, she flattened herself behind a boulder to wait. Before she could catch her breath, she heard hoofbeats.

She had to be certain it was Ian. With her heart thudding in her ears, she peeked around the boulder.

As soon as the rider rounded the bend, she shouted his name and jumped out onto the path.

“That was dangerous, Sìl,” Ian said, after pulling his horse up hard. “I nearly rode over ye.”

Ian looked so handsome on his fine horse, with his dark hair flying and the glow of sunset shining all about him, that for a long moment Sìleas forgot the urgency of her trouble.

“What are ye doing out here?” Ian asked. “And how did ye get so filthy?”

“I’m escaping my step-da,” Sìleas said, coming back to herself. “I came out the secret tunnel when I saw them turn ye away at the front gate.”

“I was going to stay the night on my way home,” he said, “but they told me half the castle was ill with some pestilence and sent me away.”

“They lied to ye,” she said, reaching her hand up to him. “We must hurry before they notice I’m gone.”

Ian hoisted her up in front of him. Though her back stung like the devil, she leaned against him and sighed. She was safe.

She’d missed Ian these last months when he was off at the Scottish court and fighting on the border. This felt like old times, when she was a wee girl and Ian was always helping her out of one scrape or another.

But she was in trouble as never before. If she’d had a doubt about how dire her situation was, seeing the Green Lady hover over her bed weeping was a clear warning.

When Ian turned the horse back in the direction of the castle, she jerked upright and spun around to face him. “What are ye doing?”

“I’m taking ye back,” Ian said. “I’m no going to be accused of kidnapping.”

“But ye must get me away! The bastard intends to marry me to the worst of the MacKinnons.”

“Mind your tongue,” Ian said. “Ye shouldn’t call your step-da a bastard.”

“You’re no listening to me. The man is going to make me wed Angus MacKinnon .”

Ian stopped his horse. “Ye must be mistaken. Even your bastard of a step-da wouldn’t do that. All the same, I promise I’ll tell my da and uncle what ye said.”

“I’ll tell them myself when ye take me to them.”

Ian shook his head. “I’m no starting a clan war by stealing ye away. Even if what ye say is true, there will be no wedding soon. You’re a child yet.”

“I’m no child,” Sìleas said, folding her arms. “I’m thirteen.”

“Well, you’ve got no breasts,” Ian said, “and no man is going to want to marry ye until ye do— Oof! No need to jab me with that pointy elbow of yours just for speaking the truth.”

Sìleas fought against the sting in her eyes. After all that had happened to her today, this was hard to bear—especially coming from the man she planned to marry.

“If ye won’t help me, Ian MacDonald, I’ll walk.”

When she tried to slide down off the horse, Ian caught and held her. He took her face in his hand and rubbed his thumb lightly across her cheek—which made it devilishly difficult not to cry.