Scotland had been torn apart in the war with England, and Scottish clans were split between those who supported their king and those who were allied with England. Clan Cambel was a loyal supporter of the Bruce, while the MacDougalls had pledged their allegiance to Edward II, King of England. Recently, the Bruce had made great progress. He’d won back a lot of territory in the Highlands and was now fighting in the east in Badenoch, where the Comyn clan, contenders to the Scottish throne, had the majority of their lands. After all the battles her clan had fought for the Bruce, there wasn’t coin or manpower to repair Glenkeld.
She had to do something. She just didn’t know what.
Marjorie cursed under her breath and looked down at the field below the castle where sheep grazed peacefully. The loch spread like a long and broad dagger from south-west to north-east.
To the south of the castle, on the border with a grove of trees, was the clan cemetery. Ian was buried there—or rather, an empty linen burial cloth. She remembered watching the funeral from the window of her chamber, the whole clan surrounding the grave like mournful statues. Ian’s father, Duncan, had stood bent over like a hook. The MagDougalls had not even given back Ian’s body.
The loch’s shoreline bordered the fields, woods, and hills that grew higher and higher the more east she looked. To the east was the ravine where she’d found the strange and handsome Konnor. There was something about him she couldn’t put her finger on. His manner of speaking—although foreign and strange—was comfortable and pleasant.
He was agreeable to look at, she admitted. He had broad shoulders and massive biceps under his strange tunic. The feel of his weight on her hadn’t bothered her, which was strange, because ever since Dunollie, she didn’t like men being too close to her. But she wasn’t threated by him. She couldn’t explain why.
“Mother!” the sweetest voice in the world cried, and Colin emerged from the entrance into the tower.
His dark, chin-length hair shone in the sun as he hurried towards her. He wore a tunic that reached almost to his knees and a wooden sword belted around his middle. He’d been growing so fast recently his breeches were getting too small. He was tall, like all Cambels.
Every time she looked at him, she noticed his Cambel features: green eyes, dark hair, high cheekbones, and a broad mouth, and thick, straight eyebrows. He had long eyelashes and a straight nose that she used to love to kiss before he’d started avoiding her signs of affection. He was just growing up, she told herself. He already started training with wooden swords, could ride a pony, shoot arrows, and lay snares.
He was growing up to be a warrior.
Someday, he’d need to protect himself. People would call him a bastart, and there wouldn’t be many good matches for him. But that would be many, many years in the future.
Now, she was the one who needed to protect him, sooner than she’d have liked. Marjorie brought him to her and hugged him, pressing his thin body to her own. He wriggled out of her embrace, and she kissed the top of his head before he could separate from her completely. He smelled of sunshine, summer dust, and baked bread. Her sweet, adventurous boy must have spent the morning in the kitchen, eating bread as soon as it was ready. The baker couldn’t resist him.
“Did ye have a good hunt?” he said. “I wish ye’d taken me.”
“Sweet, ye ken ye’re nae allowed to leave the castle in the absence of yer grandfather and uncles. Aye?”
“Aye, I ken.” He hung his head and looked longingly across the field. “But what could happen to me, Mother?”
What could happen? Apparently, now that the MacDougalls knew of his existence—many things could happen to him. They wanted him, no doubt, because he was Alasdair’s only child. John MacDougall had other grandchildren, so Marjorie could only assume Colin was important to him because he was Alasdair’s. How had he found out, she wondered? She’d realized it was only a matter of time, but she was still despondent. Servants talked. It was very possible that he’d been aware for years but had decided to act now because he knew their defenses were weak and most of the Cambel men were away.
But there was no way in hell she’d give her son to the cruel clan. Colin was a Cambel. He was hers, and hers alone.
“Anything can happen, son.” She sank to her knees and looked into his green eyes. He’d tried to sneak out of Glenkeld once after being bored to death from being kept inside the castle walls for months. Mayhap she should conceal the information about the impending siege from him, but she couldn’t. He should know everything, that way he’d be more responsible and stop trying to sneak out. “I’ll be honest with ye, sweet.”
He frowned. “Aye.”
“Our enemy clan, the MacDougalls, are going to attack us soon.”
His frown deepened, and he looked beyond the castle walls. The loch was bright blue against the green hills on both sides, and white clouds reflected against its surface. The look of stern ferociousness on his face reminded her of Alasdair, and the thought was like a hundred knives stabbing her in the gut.
But even though his very existence was a reminder of the most horrific time in Marjorie’s life, she loved her boy. Enduring it all had brought her boy into her life, so she couldn’t wish it all away.
“So ye mustn’t go outside, Colin. ‘Tis very dangerous.”
“But ye went outside, Mother,” he said. “Ye didna wait for grandfather and my uncles.”
She inhaled. “I can protect myself. Ye’re a lad.”
“But ye’re a woman, Mother. I can protect ye.”
She hugged him and gave him a big kiss on the cheek, and he giggled. He was still her lad, even if he desperately tried to be a grown man.
“‘Tis me who’ll protect ye, son,” she whispered. “Dinna fash. Just wait a wee bit longer, aye? Yer grandfather and yer uncles will be back soon, and then ye can go hunting with them, shoot yer arrows in the field, and see yer friends in the village. Promise ye’ll be good and wilna run away?”
He sighed and smiled, but devils played in his eyes. “I promise.”
“And what is a Cambel’s word worth?”
“Everything.”
“Good lad.” She tousled his hair. “We’ll train with swords later today, aye?”
Two figures walked from behind the small gathering of trees at the bottom of the cliff. Marjorie strained her eyes to look closer.
Tamhas and Muir.
“Go play, Colin. I need to talk to Tamhas and Muir.”
She hurried to the courtyard. She’d paced the length of the wall three times when the gates were finally opened. The men walked forward, their faces full of worry and their eyebrows knit together.
“Where have ye been, mistress?” Tamhas said.
“I saw a deer trail and followed it.”
“Why didna ye wait for us?”
Marjorie crossed her arms over her chest. “You were already far ahead, and I didna want to spook the deer.”
“’Twas reckless, mistress,” Muir said, scratching his graying beard. “Forgive me for saying so, but ye ken ye’re nae supposed to go around alone.”
Marjorie chewed on her lower lip. He was right, of course, and she knew he worried about her like he would about his own daughter. But if she was in charge of the castle, she had to be braver.