Page 50 of Highland Fire

“There it is, lass,” Tavig announced a few moments later.

Moira looked in the direction he pointed and nearly gasped. She had envisioned a small tower house. Mungan Coll’s keep was a great deal larger than that. He had obviously taken a few lessons from the larger English and French castles. Encircled by a thick curtain wall, it also looked temptingly secure.

“Do ye think we ought to wait for daylight so that he can see us better as we approach the walls?” she asked.

“It might be wiser, but now that my goal is in sight, I really havenae the patience to wait. There are only two of us, plus Adair and the goat. I dinnae think we will appear as any great threat. I also ken most of Mungan’s men-at-arms so there is sure to be someone on the wall who will recognize me.”

“Let us hope so. ’Twould be verra annoying to be cut down by the mon we have struggled to reach for a fortnight.” She smiled wearily when Tavig chuckled, then fell into step at his side as he started toward the castle.

“I think I ought to tell ye a few things about Mungan ere we get to his gates.”

“Ye have told me enough for me to ken that he is an odd sort of fellow.”

“Oh, aye, he is that. He is also big, verra big, and he can look and sound as fierce as any man I have e’er seen. Ye need not fear him. He bellows and roars, but ’tis mostly air and noise. What I think ye need to ken is that, while Mungan can seem almost foolish at times, he can also be clever, even sly. Aye, there are times when he is truly slow to grasp fact, but he can also play the fool to gain himself some advantage. No matter how he acts, remember that he does have a sharp wit when he feels inclined to make use of it.”

“Are ye sure this cousin is truly trustworthy?”

“In some ways, nay. In most others, aye, verra trustworthy. I trust him not to stab me in the back or act as Iver does and has. Do ye recall the advice Mungan gave Old Colin on how to regain Craigmoordun?” When Moira nodded, he continued. “That is the sort of slyness Mungan can indulge in. ’Tis mostly harmless unless ye hold the thing he is after. ’Tis verra hard to explain the sort of mon Mungan Coll is. Just keep in mind that he can be sly.”

“I will remember, although I cannae see how it will matter to me. I have nothing he could want.”

She thought she saw a brief frown darken Tavig’s face but could not be certain. It could easily have been a trick of the shadows caused by the moonlight. Tugging the blanket sling more securely around Adair, she concentrated on getting to Mungan Coll’s keep and, she prayed, a soft, warm bed.

As they approached the gates of the castle, Moira felt some of her apprehension return. Barricaded against the dark and all the dangers it could hold, the castle did not look very welcoming. The men on the walls watched her and Tavig so closely she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Once inside, Moira became increasingly sure that she would feel safe, but standing in front of the huge barred gates waiting to be judged and admitted was unnerving.

“’Tis Tavig MacAlpin,” Tavig called up to the men on the wall. “I have come to see Mungan.”

“’Tisnae easy to see who ye are in this light. Why should we take ye at your word?” called down one man.

“Is that ye, Conan? It sounds like you. Come, what enemy approaches with a lass, a bairn, and a goat?”

“There is something to ponder. But what friend or kin comes in the dark of night? Aye, and when has Tavig MacAlpin e’er arrived at these gates without a horse?”

“When he has been sent to his heels by that bastard Iver. Come, ye can see that we are no threat as we stand here. Let us in so that ye can judge us by a stronger light. If ye deem us enemies surely ye can deal with but the two of us.”

“Get right up to the gates then so that only the pair of ye can enter.”

Moira stood close to Tavig as he waited next to the gates. A moment later a small door opened. Before she could see who was there, she, Tavig, and the goat were dragged inside, the door slammed and barred behind them. A burly gray-haired man walked up and gave Tavig one long, searching look then enfolded the slimmer Tavig in what looked to be a bone-crushing hug.

“Conan,” Tavig protested. “Let a mon breathe.”

“So ’tis ye, laddie,” Conan said, releasing Tavig and giving him a sound clap on the back. “Mungan will be pleased.”

“Ah, good, he is here. I wondered if he would be. I need his help, and from what I hear, he has been a busy lad.”

Conan grimaced. “Ah, ye mean the lassie. That was a mistake in many ways, but ye ken how Mungan is once he gets a thought in his head. The twice-cursed thing cannae be shaken out.” He nodded toward Moira. “Are ye going to introduce me to your lady?”

“Aye. Conan, this is Moira.” Tavig smiled faintly as Conan gallantly kissed Moira’s hand. “The bairn is my son, Adair, by a woman named Jeanne.”

“I think ye have a lot to tell.” He waved his hand toward the keep. “Go on in, lad, Mungan is just setting down to a meal. I suspicion ye will welcome some food.”

“Ye arenae coming in?” Tavig asked.

“Nay. ’Tis my turn upon the walls. I will hear it all on the morrow.”

“Aye, there have never been any secrets kept from you.”

A thrill of anxiety snaked down Moira’s spine as she entered the keep hand in hand with Tavig. It briefly flared to full life as they walked into the great hall. A huge dark-haired man sat at the head table. She instinctively took a step backward when the man stood up, strode over to them, and enfolded Tavig in his big arms. Moira noticed with some surprise that Tavig’s feet were a few inches off the ground as he endured his cousin’s hug.