Leith must have seen those tears also, and they might account for part of the reason he was so unhappy. It did not really matter, for Leith’s unhappiness made another blight on the endeavor. So palpable was Leith’s misery, he scarcely felt like Leith. One earmark of Rory’s cousin, lifelong, had been his buoyancy of spirit. Always the smile, always the laugh. The amusing quip.
What had Rory done to him? That thought appeared with such stark abruptness, he fair shied from it. He had driven Farlan from him and killed the joy in Leith’s heart. The two men closest in the world to him.
But today, so he promised himself, it would be done. The final battle fought. The prize in his hands.Only, pray do not let me meet Saerla on the field.
Before they reached the MacLeod loch shore, a runner came with word they’d been spotted from the far fortress and the MacBeiths were mustering.
“She is going to march out and face us,” Rory said to Leith, who responded with a look of sheer dismay. It could be bad, or good. He’d had very little success in breaking through MacBeith’s defended walls. On the other hand, full-out battle could have twists and disastrous turns, and unforeseen consequences.
Which Saerla might well have foreseen.
He closed his mind, if not his heart, to her and organized the crossing. Since it did not appear they would need it—yet—he ordered the battering ram left behind. While Leith rowed their wee boat across the loch, he lectured himself. Once his foot hitMacBeith soil on the other side, he could think about naught save victory. He must cease to be Saerla MacBeith’s lover and become a conquering chief. Nothing more.
The loch, as still as a broad mirror, gave them no difficulty in crossing, and by the time they reached the foreign shore, the sun shone bright. His men drove the wee boats onto the shore, and he saw the MacBeith forces coming.
Suddenly Leith grabbed his arm. His cousin’s gray-blue eyes bored into his own, burning with intensity. “Rory, there is still time—talk to Moira MacBeith when ye meet her. Negotiate a peace.”
Rory attempted to pull away, but Leith’s grip had grown strong. “Are ye mad? Did I no’ tell ye wha’ I would do to ye if ye used that word again?”
“I do no’ care. Stab me through if ye must. ’Twould be better than more wholesale slaughter. Rory, that is Rhian’s family. Saerla’s family.”
For an instant, Rory saw her gazing at him even as Leith did, mist-blue eyes filled with desperation. He did not want to hurt Saerla in any way, by hurting those she loved.
His lips twisted. “Man, I canna change course now. I ha’ scores o’ men at my back! I ha’ made my folk a promise.”
Leith’s face went tight. Sweat broke out on his brow. He had never looked less likeLeith.
“So, cousin, this all comes down to saving face? Ye would see Farlan die? Ye would perhaps see Saerla die all for the sake o’ yer pride?”
Rory smiled tightly, or perhaps it was a grimace, for the way pain pierced his heart through. Had he lost Leith, also? Had he lost everyone who cared for him?
“I may no’ be a worthy man, cousin, but at least I am an honest one.”
*
The day couldnot be more beautiful. Saerla, stationed at Alasdair’s back, where Moira had put her—perhaps in the hope the big man could protect her from harm—found herself near dazed by it. The glen she loved so well, like a cupped hand with the loch resting in the palm, seemed to have gathered all the light of the world, a glorious measure of magic. It made her believe that all would somehow come right, for how could it do otherwise on such a morning?
Their company rattled as it marched forth. She could feel the courage of those who surrounded her—feel it like a Vision. Alasdair made a wall of determined valor. And bright, defiant courage fair streamed from Moira, with Farlan at her side. Farlan—Saerla could feel his absolute devotion that would not waver no matter what happened.
What, she wondered, would happen? What to her, if she fell in this battle? She could now see the MacLeod forces up ahead. They’d had time to disembark and form up into ranks. Scores upon scores of blades, any one of which could steal her life.
If she fell upon one of those blades, if it pierced her through and stilled her heart, would she then fly up as she did so often during a Vision? Would she become one with the light that surrounded her? Was that why it had flooded in so strong on this one particular morning?
Aye, so, for at the end of life, did not all return to its source? And had she not always carried a portion of that light? Why fail to believe it would just consume her and carry her to the next life?
But och, och she did not want to leave those she loved. Alasdair and her sisters. Farlan, because aye, she’d come to love him with his deep kindness also, like a brother. Rory—
She caught her breath then because she could see him up ahead. There with Leith close beside him. Leith—och, poor Rhian!—and score upon score of men at his back.
Moira called out, her voice achingly clear in the dancing air, and their company halted. There beneath the blue dome of the sky, beside the sparkling loch on MacBeith soil, the two armies faced each other.
All it would take was one of the commanders, either of them, to give the order, and death would follow.
Moira, there at the front, would face Rory.
Unless Saerla got in the way first.
For she could not see her sister fall. She simply could not—
