The Devil in Plaid(48)

“I pray ye’re right, my lady,” Alasdair muttered. “They’ve spotted us.”

Fiona’s chest tightened as the unknown warriors raced toward them.

What if they were Ranulf’s men?

Her gaze darted across the bare moors. “What are we to do?” Her heart pounded. “We must do something!”

“Stay calm,” Matthew snapped.

A moment later, they were surrounded.

“Praise be to Mary and all the Saints,” Fiona gasped when she recognized one of the men. “Good Morrow, Captain Tormod.”

Tormod’s eyes narrowed on her. Nothing about his manner or expression was reassuring.

“Ye know me, Captain. ‘Tis I, Lady Fiona MacLeod, formerly of the clan MacDonnell. I was betrothed to Adam.”

“We ken who ye are,” Tormod snarled.

Her eyes widened in surprise.

Alasdair drew his blade, angling his horse in front of Fiona’s. An instant later, the MacKenzie warriors unsheathed their own swords.

“Nay,” Fiona cried at the fierce men.

“Stay between us, my lady,” Matthew shouted, moving his horse on the other side of her.

“We are allies,” she pleaded.

“She lies,” Tormod shouted.

Alasdair growled. “Ye will not speak of my lady in such a way!”

“Please,” she beseeched. “I have come as friend to the Clan MacKenzie. Will ye not welcome me as ye once did?”

Tormod lowered his blade, but his eyes flashed with anger. “Ye claim to be friend to the Clan MacKenzie, do ye? Ye who have raided and slaughtered our people!”

Fiona’s eyes widened. “We are not guilty of those crimes.”

“Lies,” Tormod snarled. “I saw yer men with my own eyes. I saw the colors of the MacDonnell and the MacLeod. There are other witnesses, too.”

Fiona shook her head. “Ye’ve been played false. ‘Tis Ranulf MacKenzie, no doubt, seeking to gain yer loyalty by pitting ye against us. But, Captain, ye must believe me. We want to help ye.”

“What help could ye possibly give us?”

“My husband, Jamie MacLeod, has amassed an army. His kin from the isles have joined ranks with my father’s warriors. As we speak, they are preparing to march from Làidir.”

Tormod glared at her. “Then ye admit ye mean to attack.”

She clasped her hands together. “Nay, Captain Tormod. Hear me out. We’ve not wronged ye. Ranulf has put our colors on his ruthless gang and killed yer people to confuse loyalties.”

Tormod shook his head. “That cannot be.”

“And why not?” Fiona scoffed. “He killed yer laird. He killed Adam. Do ye believe there are limits to his depravity?”

Tormod held her gaze. She could tell that he weighed her words.

“We march to aid yer people,” she insisted. “We want to help ye take back yer clan.”

Tormod slumped in his saddle. “I no longer know what truth is.”

She nudged her horse closer. “Captain, our Lord is truth.” Then she slid to the ground. “The son of God does not live in the heart of Ranulf MacKenzie.”

“Lady Fiona,” Alasdair snapped. “What are ye doing?”

She crossed to the captain’s side. “Take me,” she said. “Take me as yer guarantee.”

“Nay, my lady,” Matthew shouted.

Fiona ignored his protests. She crossed her wrists in surrender and looked up into the captain’s surprised gaze. “My laird is ready to march and fight on behalf of yer people. This madness stops here. If ye doubt my word, then take me. If I’ve lied, and my laird attacks out of greed, then ye can stay his hand with me as yer captive.”

The captain reached down and seized her, lifting her onto his horse. In a flash, the clang of metal rang out as Matthew and Alasdair attacked the surrounding MacKenzie warriors.

“Nay,” she cried.

“Stand down,” the captain called out.

Heaving warriors surrounded her, their faces strained, their blades at the ready. Alasdair and Matthew glared at the captain.

“Release Lady Fiona,” Matthew demanded.

“Ye’re both under my command,” she snapped at her men. “Return now to Làidir. Tell my laird to keep to our plan. Tell him Ranulf MacKenzie has tried to sully our name, and that I’ve offered myself in goodwill to our allies. Tell him to look for the torch fire.” She choked down the sudden fear forming a knot in her throat.” Her voice softened. “Tell him that I love him.” Grasping for courage, she straightened in her seat. “Go now,” she urged.

She could see the struggle on Matthew and Alasdair’s faces, but even if they wanted to flout her command, they were outnumbered.

“Where will ye keep her? The dungeon?” Alasdair thundered.

“She will be kept in the high tower. If the MacLeod is good on his word, and ye’re indeed our allies, then she will be released when we are all victorious.”

Matthew’s nostrils flared. “If she is harmed or if ye betray us and hold with the wretch Ranulf, know that Laird MacLeod’s wrath will be delivered ten-fold.”

Fiona watched as her men turned their horses around and galloped away.

“I hope ye know what ye’re doing, my lady,” Tormod said behind her as he turned his horse around.