Highlander Enchanted(45)

“I brought ye back from the devil once,” Father Adam added quietly. “I can do it again, Cade.”

“And if I become him? What can ye do?”

“Pray fer yer soul.”

Cade snorted. “Nay, priest. Ye’ll have to do more than this.” He crossed to a trunk and flung open its lid, ruffling through the contents until he found what he sought. He lifted a dagger with a blade made of bright green jade and held it out to the priest. “If ye canna save me, ye kill me.”

Father Adam frowned.

“I canna go forward until I have yer word ye will do as I say,” Cade said firmly. “If Black Cade canna be saved, ye must kill him, or he will destroy all.”

The priest drew a breath and nodded, his expression grave. “I’ll do as ye say, Cade.” He accepted the dagger. “But I will do all I can t’save ye first.”

“I ken.” Cade shook out his shoulders. Already, battle lust was beginning to build despite his exhaustion. “I need ye t’send a writ t’the stewart of the king. Niall claimed he was unnaturally interested in Lady Isabel, and I ken why now. Tell ‘im our plight. Tell ‘im she is in danger.”

“Yea, at once.”

“I will stall Laird Duncan long enough for my cousin Douglas t’lead our people t’the MacCosse lands. The writ must reach the king b’fore Laird Duncan reaches the MacCosse lands.”

“It will be done,” Father Adam vowed.

“Yer a good man, for a priest.”

“Yer a good man, for a seillie.”

Cade clasped his friend and mentor on the shoulder.

A knock at the door silenced further discussion. It cracked open, and the healer with wild hair entered, carrying a satchel.

“If ye can, Marie, save him,” he directed her. “If not, Father, give him last rites.”

He left them in search of his cousins. His next move had to be well planned, or he would risk more than the lives of his kin.





Chapter Sixteen


The rain started before dusk, though the lightning and thunder remained a safe distance away.

Cade rode with his cousins, their weaponry hidden beneath long cloaks. His blood hummed with warmth despite the chilly evening.

Drawing to a halt at the guarded entrance to the MacDonald keep where Duncan MacGomery had settled, he lowered his hood.

“Laird Cade,” one of the guards said with a quick bow. “Wait here.” He dashed inside.

Cade patted the neck of his horse. Since deciding war was on the table earlier in the day, he had felt the shift inside him. The one that caused him to view every detail of the MacDonald keep with the eyes of a warrior intending to attack. The keep was damaged from MacGomery’s attack but also heavily guarded. The three of them peered through the main gate into the bailey. Fire damage was apparent, and the heads of MacDonald’s few warriors either dangled from the parapets or were stuck on pikes on either side of the gate.

“Warriors from Clan MacTieran,” Niall said quietly.

“That’s MacWarren’s tartan,” Brian added and indicated a cluster of soldiers near the stables.

“Yea,” Cade murmured. “I see at least four clans’ warriors.”

“We ken Laird Duncan is powerful,” Niall said. “We canna face the men of six clans.”

“They are no’ all here,” Brian pointed out. “It’ll take time for Laird Duncan to rally them all.”

“And then what?”

No one answered.

The guard returned and motioned for them to follow. Cade nudged his horse forward towards the stables, where a stable boy rushed out to take its reins.

“This isna what we thought,” Niall said. “But our plan can still work.”

“As long as we all keep our heads,” Brian said with a glance at Cade.

“Stall. Get the lass and leave,” Cade agreed. “We’ll ken better how to face him after this.”

Displeased by the amount of warriors – and the clans represented – Cade trailed the guard into the boisterous Great Hall at the center of the keep. Even more men were present here, and the tables overflowed with meats, pies, breads and wines. He paused upon entering, his stomach growling in complaint after days of dried meat and stale bread. With no coin to feed his people or the MacDonald’s, he was scraping the bottom of the barrels of grain for bread and sending out several hunting parties a day.

“Someone found the MacDonald’s treasury,” Niall whispered.

“Ye think this is all his gold?” Brian asked.

“He is a wealthy laird,” Cade said. “I didna ken how wealthy.” He had never visited the MacDonald’s keep, relying instead on messengers and visits from the Laird’s kinsmen to his home to hammer out a wedding contract. He had not questioned the stroke of good fortune, not when his people were on the verge of homelessness and starvation. “If he has so much gold, why did he offer his daughter t’me?”

“I doona ken, but I want to,” Brian said.

“Perhaps he knew of his danger and wanted Black Cade t’save him?” Niall asked, equally puzzled.

“He must ken we ‘ave no warriors,” Brian countered.

“We will ask him when we are home,” Cade said firmly. Ignoring his envious stomach, he spotted Laird Duncan and began making his way through the crowded hall to the table where the thick frame of Duncan sat. A seasoned warrior with bushy beard and eyebrows, Duncan was a combination of hair, eyes and teeth when he smiled.