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Nothing.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“I wish we could have remained at Tannochbrae,” Avelina said not for the first time.

The day after their wedding, when they received word that the cottager had, indeed, seen nothing as her brother predicted, they packed their belongings and rode out. Sleeping under the stars the evening prior, a very different night than their wedding one, along with riding all day, and Avelina really did wish she was arriving at her new home more prepared.

They’d stopped along a river where she had washed dirt from the road off her as best she could. Though Avelina feared ‘twould not be her appearance that would come between her and Niall but his family and clan’s reaction toward her. The bond between her and her husband continued to grow, but today, Avelina feared, all could change.

“Castle Duncraig,” her husband announced as they crested the ridge that until now hid her new home.

“‘Tis beautiful,” she said. On two sides, the sea, and protection on a third side by a natural inlet. With two courtyards separated by a substantially large keep, both the castle and village off in the distance looked almost as if they were not real. “It would appear the keep is well protected,” she said. “Has it ever been successfully attacked?”

“Nay,” her brother-in-law replied, obviously proud of the fact.

Avelina thought back to the first conversation she and Niall had about marriage. He’d asked if she truly could live here among those who were, essentially, her enemy.

“You’ve both accepted me,” she said to the two men by her side. Avelina’s mount danced under her, likely sensing her worry.

“We have,” Kieran said, “and they will too.”

“Though mayhap not today,” her husband added.

Avelina took a deep breath. Not today, nor tomorrow. But they would. Both Niall and Kieran had, and Avelina had come to accept them as well.

They did not kill your father.

She did not know who struck that blow, but there would be men, including the chief, who had been in that battle.

“Lina?” her husband called her name as if it were not the first time.

“I am ready,” she said, though in truth, she was not at all. But at her words, Niall spurred his mount forward as the three of them descended the hill.

It was not until they were well past the gatehouse and into the inner courtyard that the whispers began. None would know she was a MacKinlay, but her arrival with Niall and Kieran was enough, apparently, to set tongues wagging. And wag they did. By the time they’d dismounted, a crowd had gathered around them. Most openly stared at her, but none asked the silent question Niall did not seem to be willing to answer. Instead, he helped Avelina dismount, whispered, “Come with me,” to her, and took her by the hand.

“My saddlebags,” she said, “and bow.”

“Kieran will see they are taken care of.”

Kieran winked at her as Niall led Avelina toward the keep.

“There are four floors,” he said as they approached. “The stores and soldiers’ quarters below.” He indicated the ground floor as the two of them made their way to a set of stone stairs built into the side of the keep. “This forebuilding,” he said of the section they were about to enter, “was added when I was a boy.”

“The extra defense seems unnecessary,” she said. “Castle Duncraig is well-fortified by water on three sides.”

“But ‘tis the fourth side that matters most,” he said.

The guard at the door greeted them. Niall nodded as his man opened the large wooden door.

They walked into a room that separated the forebuilding from the remainder of the keep. Passing through it and another door, the unmistakable sounds of a great hall reached her ears.

“And as you can see, on this floor, the hall.”

They passed through a corridor lit by wall torches and through yet another doorway, though this one remained open. It was well past supper, she assumed, but still the hall was not empty. There were servants wiping tables and at least five or six others milling about, two playing chess, and the others seeming to drink ale and do naught else.

Niall pointed to one of the men who stood beside a table. Though the man spoke with those sitting, he did not appear to be drinking with them. “Finlay is our steward. Actually, he’s the son of a blacksmith, but my father, as a teen, noticed his natural intelligence and how hard he worked. The two struck up a friendship, Finlay eventually becoming our steward not long after my father became chief.”

“My lord,” Finlay said, as if sensing Niall despite having his back to him. “You’ve just returned,” he said, approaching. The man was probably the same age as her father would have been.