The Chief Read online

  Christina felt that same helplessness and an overwhelming sense of impending doom. She knew she had to protect her sister, but her plan to entice the MacLeod chief to choose her and not her sister was a far more terrifying proposition now that she was here.

  On the final leg of their journey by sea, however, another possibility had occurred to her. She realized how fast the sea roads were compared to their land counterparts. With favorable winds, long distances could be covered in hours rather than days. When one of the oarsmen had mentioned that he’d recently come from the holy Isle of Iona, the spark of an idea took hold: She and Beatrix could flee to Iona and take refuge at the famous nunnery.

  It was a crazy plan—fraught with risk at every turn—but it was something.

  This morning after breaking their fast, she and Beatrix had headed to the village to make initial inquiries, but Christina would have to return later at night to attempt to secure passage. A pilgrimage to St. Columba’s holy isle would not seem out of the ordinary, assuming no one discovered who they were.

  The wind whistled through the reeds that grew along the stone causeway as they made their way back to the castle, the eerie sound utterly in keeping with the haunting majesty of this ancient stronghold but doing nothing for her frayed nerves.

  Beatrix must have sensed her unease. Looping her arm through Christina’s, she drew her closer as they walked. “Are you sure about this, Chrissi? If father discovers what we are planning—”

  “He won’t,” Christina assured her with far more confidence than she felt. The idea of defying her father terrified her. “We’re not doing anything out of the ordinary. There is no reason for him to be suspicious.”

  It would be later at night, when she actually sought to arrange passage, that the real danger would come. But she dared not voice her fears to her sister. As it was, deception was utterly foreign to Beatrix; adding fear to the mix would be disastrous. They could do nothing to arouse their father’s suspicions.

  “But if anything goes wrong—”

  “Nothing will go wrong,” Christina said firmly. She hoped. It was a simple plan, but neither of them had ever attempted anything like this before and they couldn’t take the chance of involving anyone else. If Alex had traveled with them they might have asked him to help, but he’d been sent to join their cousin Simon, one of Robert Bruce’s closest companions. She looked into her sister’s troubled face. “You want to go to Iona, don’t you?”

  Beatrix’s entire expression changed, her face transformed by a heavenly light that took Christina’s breath away. “Of course I do. It’s an answer to a prayer, except that never even in my dreams did I imagine it would be possible.” Beatrix sighed. “Just think, the nunnery at Iona. Surely, it must be the most holy place in all of Scotland?”

  “We shall find out,” Christina said with a smile. Though she did not share her sister’s religious devotion, it was impossible not to get swept up in the excitement. They would be safe. That was all that mattered. For two young women, there were precious few options available. If the choice was between marriage to a barbarian and a nunnery, it was an easy decision.

  But part of her wondered…

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Chrissi?” Her sister’s pale blue eyes slid over her face. “This is my dream, not yours. I’ve no wish to marry, but can you say the same?” Christina slammed her mouth closed; at times Beatrix had an uncanny ability to read her mind. “What about your knights?” she added softly.

  Christina kept her eyes fixed on the path in front of them. She’d regaled her sister with too many romantic stories to even attempt to feign ignorance at what she was getting at. “They’re stories, Bea. Just stories. I never thought of that for myself.” Dreaming didn’t count. “Marriage for women in our position is to secure alliances, not for love. I’d rather spend my life reading about romance than locked in marriage to a man…” Her voice fell off.

  “To a man like father,” Beatrix finished gently.

  Christina nodded. Aye, the man who thought her no better than a dog to kick. She hated the fear that her father had instilled in her. Fear that came not only from pain but also from powerlessness. Never had she felt the fate of being a woman so cruelly. If her father—or her husband—wanted to thrash her senseless, no one would gainsay his right to do so.

  That realization made her all the more certain that what they were doing was right. She couldn’t just sit back and wait, while her father offered them up like two juicy lambs to the slaughter. If there were a chance to avoid that fate for herself and her sister, she would take it.

  “I know you are only doing this because you are trying to protect me. But I’m older—I’m the one who should be protecting you.” Beatrix drew up her slender shoulders. “I’m stronger than I look. I could…” She fought back tears through a wobbly smile. “Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad.”

  Christina stopped in her tracks, grasping hold of her sister’s shoulders to turn and face her, taking care not to clasp her too hard. Beatrix bruised as easily as a rose petal. Her sister might be taller than her by nearly half a foot, but her delicate build made her seem much smaller. Christina was all round curves to Beatrix’s fine lines.

  Despite the cloudless sky, a cold shadow swept over her as she looked at her sister. Pale, ethereal, fragile. Unbearably fragile. Not just in appearance but in her life’s breath. Sometimes it seemed as if Beatrix had one foot in heaven already—that each moment with her was a precious gift that could be taken at any time.

  The thought of losing her sister made Christina’s chest burn. For as long as she could remember, there had been only the two of them. Their mother had died not long after the birth of their youngest brother, and their brothers had been sent away when they were very young. Beatrix was all she had, and Christina would do anything to protect her.

  Her throat swelled with emotion, knowing that her sister would do the same. She could only imagine what those brave words had cost her. “I’m not doing this just for you, but for both of us.” She read the uncertainty in her sister’s gaze. Realizing that giving voice to her own fears might help, she swallowed and said softly, “I’m just as scared as you are, Bea. I’ve no wish to marry one of these men any more than you do.”

  “You’re certain?” Beatrix asked hesitantly.

  Christina nodded with a smile. “Positive.” She lifted up on her toes and placed a kiss on her sister’s cheek. “Now, if we are to have time to change before the feast, we’d better hurry.”

  They resumed walking, continuing their way along the slippery rock pathway and onto the big island. Finlaggan was uniquely situated, spread out between two small islands on an inland loch, connected to the mainland by stone causeways. Located about fifty feet from shore and surrounded by tall wooden fortifications, Eilean Mor, the big island, housed most of the castle buildings, including the Great Hall, St. Findlugan’s Chapel, and the armory, smith, and barracks. At the far end of Eilean Mor was another stone causeway, this one much longer, perhaps a hundred yards in length, connecting the big island to a small crannog—a man-made island—which housed the council chamber and MacDonald’s new tower house. The mist that had cloaked the morning had slowly dissipated, though it had yet to dry completely from the ground. But she could just make out the formidable keep in the distance.

  Christina had to admit that despite the fearsome appearance of the men, there was nothing crude or barbaric about Finlaggan. The castle and its outer buildings were as fine as anything she might find in the Lowlands. The Great Hall with its lime-mortared stone walls, arched windows, and beautifully beamed ceilings could rival the recently renovated Great Hall at Stirling Castle. Indeed, the massive fireplace was the largest she’d ever seen, and the faces on the stone corbels were so lifelike they could only have been carved by a master craftsman.

  The food was also a surprise. Half fearing that they would be eating nothing but herring and oatcakes, she was impressed by both the variety and the skilled preparation of the m