“My days are nearly finished. I thank the Virgin for giving me a man I could trust. I could not give him a son, but Hector has protected my secret, as well as my life and the lives of my two daughters. I only pray that my precious daughter Innes grows to have the strength and wit to preserve this gift that I pass on to her. I grow weaker. I have more to tell her. I must finish my writing here . . .”
From the Chronicle of Lugh
The commander nudged his black steed forward to the cart. This man was no Highlander, of that Innes was certain. As he came closer, from beneath his leather cloak he drew a long sword from its sheath.
Lachlan stood up in the cart and bowed slightly. “As I promised, m’lord, I’ve brought the woman you seek.”
The rider’s eyes locked on her face for a moment, then flicked to the pouch at her waist. Lachlan had delivered what these people were after.
They didn’t just want her. They wanted the relic.
“You promised a reward of English gold, and I trust that a gentleman such as—”
The commander’s sword whispered through the air, and Lachlan stood frozen in time as the blade swept toward him.
The steward’s blood spattered her as his head tumbled onto the ground.
Innes wasn’t going to die like a dog. Not sitting still. Springing out of the cart, she lifted her skirts and sprinted back in the direction they came.
“Go after her,” the commander shouted. “Bring her to me.”
She knew what these people were capable of. She saw what they did to Dona. And now Lachlan. With her, it would be worse. Far worse. She might not outrun them, but she’d die before surrendering.
Conall and the group traveling from Folais Castle were still a mile from Girnigoe when a dozen Sinclair warriors galloped up to meet them. Conall’s worst fears came true as soon as one of them spoke.
“Lady Innes is missing.”
They were still on Munro land when they heard the stories of Englishmen and Lowlanders being seen in the hills. But after all that the Macphersons told them, Conall knew who these men were and what they were looking for. Sir Ralph Evers would not waste his time on Munro land once he learned where Innes would be.
Cold fear washed through him. He had to find her. Get to her. He’d led so many men into so many battles. He’d never allowed fear to paralyze him when action was needed. And he wouldn’t now, even though his fear for Innes’s life made it hard for him to think.
“Where was she last seen?”
“In the stable yard,” the Sinclair warrior reported. “Lachlan is missing, too, m’lord. But we don’t know if the two left together or if someone’s taken her. A woman from the castle was killed yesterday . . . by Lowlanders.”
“Enough,” he ordered. “Ride with me.”
Spurring his horse, he galloped ahead as the Sinclairs raced to keep up, shouting answers to Conall’s questions. As far as anyone knew, Lachlan hadn’t planned to be away from the castle. Others coming back from Wick confirmed that they hadn’t seen the steward there or on the road.
Conall slowed his steed only when he rode into the stable yard. Bryce and the Macphersons reined in right behind him. Innes’s father and her family would be arriving in a few days.
Ailein ran out across the bridge into the stable yard as they dismounted.
“Innes isn’t here. She’s not in the castle,” she told Conall and Bryce, panic evident in her voice. “We’ve looked everywhere. Someone took her. I’m sure of it.”
“Duff!” Conall shouted up at the windows of the West Tower. “Bring Thunder.”
Perhaps, he prayed, his wolf could find her scent and show them the way. He knew he was grasping at straws, but what other chance did they have? Evers hadn’t taken Innes for ransom. From what Kenna MacKay told him, the Englishman would kill her as soon as he had his hands on the relic.
Duff barreled out of the West Tower with Thunder pulling at a short leather lead. As soon as the wolf saw Conall, he yanked free and raced to him.
“Innes,” Conall told the excited wolf, trying to undo the leash. But the animal was too excited to remain still. “Find Innes.”
Thunder darted off through the gates, and Conall leaped onto his horse in pursuit.
Innes stood with her back to the cliffs. The mists swirled around her. A dozen filthy soldiers hemmed her in.
The commander barked his order and they rushed forward. She turned to leap from the edge, but she hesitated. She couldn’t. And then they had her . . . and the stone she’d received from her dying mother’s hand.
Pain cut into the deepest core of her being. She’d failed. Her sworn duty was to protect this tablet, and she’d failed. When the rider produced two more pieces of the Wheel of Lugh and fit her fragment together with them, something died within her. She knew there could be no escaping her fate now. But unlike the others in the chronicle, unlike those women who died to protect it, she . . . Innes Munro . . . simply gave it up into the hands of monsters who raped and killed the innocent and the defenseless. Guilt ripped at her heart.
And what of Conall? What of the love they had just found? Would he ever even know what became of her?
A movement drew her gaze to the top of the rise behind these killers.
Thunder.
The Englishman nodded to his men. “Kill her. I want to see her dead.”
The Lowlander holding Innes by the hair jerked her head up and raised his knife to cut her throat.
Before the blade could leave its lethal mark, a flash of gray fury was upon the man, knocking him from her and ripping open his face.
Over and over, Thunder attacked the head and neck as the warrior screamed. Stunned by the sudden ferocity of the beast’s assault, the other men staggered back a step. That was all Innes needed.
Picking up the fallen knife, she slashed at the closest warrior’s face. The man spun away, howling in pain. But before she could bolt through the opening, the others snapped out of their stupor. One of them grabbed her wrist, and wrenched the knife from her.
Thunder’s shrieking yelps yanked her head around. A soldier was pulling his sword from side of the writhing wolf even as another raised his weapon to finish the animal.
“NO!” she screamed, ripping her wrist free and diving forward.
She landed on the wolf as the sword point descended, thrusting into her. Hot as molten metal, it cut straight through flesh and bone. Her breath caught in her chest, and the searing pain inside of her radiated outward from the blade, scorching her until something snapped in her head and there was no more pain.
Suddenly, pounding hooves were directly in front of her. The clanging sound of sword blades mixed with the grunts and cries of wounded men. The horse moved away a foot, a yard, and then she saw her fierce defender.
Conall, driving the men back with ferocious rage, his sword swinging as their foes fell away before him.
And beyond the fray, she saw others coming over the rise.
The mounted commander saw them, too. She watched him spur his horse back toward the cart before disappearing down the path to the beach.
Conall slashed at anything that moved around him. With blind fury driving him, he carved through the animals that dared to touch her.
The dead and dying littered the cliff top by the time Bryce and the others reached him. It was a miracle that Conall recognized his brother before attacking him as well.
Throwing down his sword, Conall leapt off his horse and ran to Innes. Her body lay against the panting, bloodied wolf. Her head rested against his heart.
“Conall,” she said softly. “The leader. He has the stones.”
“Never mind that, my love. Let me look at you.”
Blood was flowing freely from the gaping hole beneath her breast, and his soul withered within him. He’d seen such wounds before. He knew that she . . . he knew . . .
She turned weakly to clutch at the wolf’s fur. “Thunder. He saved me.” She looked back at him. “You saved me.”
Bryce was shouting as he ran up to them. “Alexander has gone after Evers. He has two boats on the beach, but . . .” He stopped and then murmured. “Oh, God.”
Conall didn’t look up at his brother. His eyes were fixed on his beloved. Her face was growing more ashen with each passing moment, her breathing growing shallower.
A figure suddenly appeared and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Let me help,” Kenna said gently, kneeling down beside him.
Innes looked up at the face of the brown-haired woman silhouetted against the sky. She didn’t know her, but she was offering her help.
Innes had known severe pain in the past, touching others. But this was different. With this stab wound, the metal drove through her, taking her breath away, making her vision grow suddenly sharp. This time there was no possibility of taking her hand away and finding relief. This was death.
She continued to caress Thunder. His blood and hers were soaking the sandy ground beneath them. She wanted to talk. She wanted to pretend that she was fine, for Conall’s sake, but she couldn’t. Her lifeblood had once filled a jar, but this wound cracked the vessel, and her time on earth was draining away. Others moved around her, but she couldn’t see them. She didn’t have enough strength to turn around. She was losing her ability to focus. The end was here. Death was upon her.
“I’m Kenna MacKay,” the woman whispered, crouching down next to her.
Innes heard Conall’s voice. “Tell me what to do.”
“Hold her. Comfort her.”
He sat himself behind her, pulling her gently against his chest. She saw Thunder try to lift his head. The wolf looked briefly at his master before laying his head back down.
“Do I know you?” Innes asked the woman.
“Nay, but we’re sisters, of sorts.” Kenna took her hand, and their skin immediately warmed. The sensation ran between their fingers, and she saw into Kenna’s mind.
“You,” she said. “The healing stone. But you’ve lost it, too.”
“We’ll talk about that later. First, let me see to you.”
“Thunder. The wolf.” She caressed the animal lying by her. “You cannot let him die.”
“I’ll help him if I can. But for now, close your eyes.”
Conall’s lips brushed against her hair, her temple. He whispered words of love and encouragement in her ear. Innes pressed her face against his heart, listening to the strong beat.
“I love you,” she whispered. “The few days we’ve had together have been the happiest of my life.”
“And we have the rest of our lives, my love.”
Kenna’s fingers skimmed over Innes’s wound. With feathery touches, she moved her hand around the bloody gash and over it. Innes closed her eyes, giving herself over to the heat that emanated from the other woman’s hand, and losing herself in Conall’s whispers of affection.
She’d lost the stone. The man possessing it now had three of the four pieces. She wanted to mourn the tragedy of failing her mother in losing the relic. And she kept thinking of Lachlan. The steward’s words repeated themselves in her mind. He’d stolen for years. And he had been willing to kill—or have someone kill for him—to avoid discovery. This was the truth about the knowledge of secrets. Everyone had them; many would destroy her to keep them hidden.
She wanted to focus on the dangers still around them, but her mind continued to pull toward the other woman and her touch. Kenna, she said her name was. Her power ran through Innes, making her mind release all the tension, all the fears. Her body followed.
The heat spread through her limbs, centering on the wound. The pulsing blood slowly decreased. Innes opened her eyes. Kenna appeared to be almost in a trance. Her fingers continued to move over the wound.
Innes reached up, her fingers brushing against Kenna’s. There was no change in the woman’s awareness, no interruption of the ritual. But as she touched Kenna’s hand, Innes realized Kenna was hovering, suspended within something Innes had never before experienced. It was an intangible, spiritual otherworld. Kenna existed at this moment within the infinite soul of healing. Innes heard the echoes of voices speaking in different tongues. She saw ancient faces appear, then flicker and fade and become someone else. And she knew this all had to do with the relic. The stone had been stolen from Kenna, but she still embodied the power.
The pain’s departure came quickly. It faded suddenly, like the memory of a dream. Innes realized she’d stopped bleeding. She looked at her clothes; the tear in the fabric and the bloody stain made the wound appear worse than it actually was. Shapes became people, and faces came into focus.
A huge, blond-haired man was crouched protectively behind the young woman. Some moments passed before Kenna opened her eyes. Their gazes locked.
“Your gift is a blessing. Thank you,” Innes whispered. Her fingers were still resting on Thunder. “Can you heal him, too?”
Kenna smiled, moving over to the animal. “A first time for me, mending a wolf.”