“That’s Angus MacBain he’s talking to,” Robbie told her, still not taking his eyes off the threat. “He’s my grandfather. And he can’t believe he’s seeing Ian, as his son, Michael, was lost with Ian ten years ago.”
“But what is Ian saying?”
“That he was with Michael when they were captured by the English. He’s telling Angus how his son died and of Michael’s great love for his own daughter, Maura. That they were going to run away and get married when she died.”
“Angus didn’t know about Maura?”
“He knew Michael was hellbent on going to war over a MacKeage woman, but Angus didn’t know Maura had been pregnant with his grandchild at the time of her death.”
Robbie darted a look at her, then back at the two older men. “Angus heard that Greylen and Ian and the others had disappeared with his son in a great storm, but he really thought the MacKeages had killed Michael and the five other MacBain warriors. There, Ian just told him that Michael died a hero by saving his life.”
Angus scowled at Ian and pointed at Robbie and Catherine.
“Ian is telling him… aw, hell,” Robbie growled, wiping his face with his free hand. “Ian just told him I’m a powerfuldrùidh named Cùram de Gairn and that if they don’t go home peacefully, I’m going to drown them all.” Ian pointed at the water spewing from the crack in the mountain, and Robbie groaned. “Now he’s telling them I can reroute the Snow River and that if they want it to flow through MacBain land again, they should bow to my benevolence instead of daring to point their swords at me and my wife.”
“So I’m a wizard’s wife?” Catherine squeaked.
Robbie snorted. “Ian does love to spin tales,” he said, shaking his head. He resheathed his sword and took a deep breath. “Well, I might as well give them a show, so my uncle won’t be a liar and they can go home and tell their own tales around the campfire.”
“What?”
He took hold of her hand and led her straight toward the wall of warriors. He stopped in front of Angus MacBain and said something to him in rapid, spitting Gaelic.
Catherine leaned toward Ian.
“He’s telling Angus that he knew his son and that Michael MacBain was a great warrior that any papa would be proud of,” Ian translated for her.
Robbie pulled his dagger out of his belt and handed it to Angus. The old MacBain warrior clutched the dagger in his fist until blood ran through his fingers and snapped his gaze back to Robbie.
“That’s Michael’s dagger,” Ian said in a whisper. “And now Robbie is turning so that Angus can see the hilt of his sword, that used to belong to Robert MacBain, Angus’s brother.”
Angus was Robbie’s grandfather? Robbie certainly hadn’t inherited his height from him.
Angus MacBain was only an inch taller than she was. “Is he going to give up his sword?” Catherine asked in a hushed voice, leaning closer to Ian even though Robbie still held her hand.
“Nay,” Ian said. “Angus asked for it, but Robbie told him that Robert wanted him to have it, to remind him of his duties to the MacBains. They should know they have a powerful guardian looking out for their welfare and that he’s going to breach the dam so their livestock can drink from the Snow River again.”
“C-Can he do that?” Catherine whispered.
Ian shrugged. “The boy’s not one to give empty boasts.”
Robbie then led Catherine right past the gaping warriors, speaking in Gaelic as they strode past, and Ian and Angus fell into step behind them. But instead of also following, the warriors suddenly scrambled down the hill toward the riverbed.
“I’ve told them to move their horses to dry ground,” Robbie explained as he helped Catherine over a fallen log. “How’s your passenger doing?”
“Fine,” she said, patting the lump on her chest. “I think he might even be sleeping. Can you really break the dam?”
“Aye. It’s unstable and should only take a small effort.”
The clamor of pounding hoofbeats rose from the other side of the lake. Catherine, Robbie, Ian, and Angus stepped out of the woods and onto the edge of the dam just in time to see Niall and an army of at least two hundred warriors come to a halt on the opposite shore.
Robbie shouted to Niall and pointed to Ian and Angus, then spoke rapidly in Gaelic to the young laird for several minutes, until Niall finally dismounted and strode across the dam toward them.
“It’s time for you to go home now, Uncle,” Robbie said in English, turning to him.
He pulled Ian into a fierce embrace, holding him in his arms for several heartbeats before he kissed his cheek and used his thumb to wipe a tear from the old man’s cheek.
He whispered something to him, clapped his shoulders rather soundly, smiled, and whispered something else.
“Give Ian a hug good-bye, Cat,” Robbie said, pulling her over to them. “You won’t be seeing him again.”
His words hit Catherine like a sharp blow to her heart. She hadn’t thought about never seeing Ian again. She’d never again hear his beautiful lilt, get one of his bear hugs, or gaze into his eyes that wrinkled at the corners.
“Ah, Catherine,” Ian said with a sigh, pulling her into a bear hug. “Ya remember what I told ya about husbands needing time to adjust,” he whispered in her ear. “Just love my nephew and try to laugh more than ya scold, lass. And thank ya for sharing my journey home.”
She was crying so hard she couldn’t see anything when Robbie dragged her away from Ian and tucked her back against his side. The kitten finally settled down again, now that it wasn’t getting squished by Ian’s hug, and Catherine had to use the edge of Robbie’s plaid to dry her own face.
Niall walked up to Ian, stopped long enough to glare at Angus MacBain, and then put his arm around his father and started walking him back across the dam. He stopped, stared at Robbie for several seconds, then nodded and turned to help Ian onto his horse.
Robbie led Catherine off the end of the dam and lifted her up onto a huge, flat boulder.
“Stay put,” he said, his smile softening his command. “I’m just going to free the Snow River, and then I’ll be right back to get you.”
He spoke briefly to Angus, then spun around and scrambled down through the woods, toward the base of the dam. Angus jumped up on the boulder beside her, standing not too close, giving her a grin that was more feral than friendly.
That is, until her chest started wiggling. The old MacBain warrior stepped back, looking as if he thought she might explode. Her passenger popped its head out of her shawl and hissed at Angus. Angus took another step back and pulled the dagger Robbie had given him out of his belt. He held it down by his side in a guarded but unthreatening position.
Catherine caught sight of Robbie just then, scrambling over the large boulders at the base of the dam, examining each one he came to and then scanning the mud and trees above it.
Darn it, what was he doing? If the dam was broke, he would be washed away.
He stopped suddenly, turned to face the dam, and set his hands on two large tree trunks sticking out of the wall of dirt. A collective murmur rose from across the lake, and Catherine looked up to see the MacKeage warriors, Niall with Ian mounted behind him, back their horse up a safe distance away. Angus also backed up with a gasp, taking hold of Catherine’s arm and pulling her with him.
Catherine looked at Robbie and couldn’t stifle her own gasp. The trees were starting to glow like burning embers, whiffs of smoke puffing into the air around them. Robbie suddenly straightened, brushed his hands together, looked up at her, and smiled.
“Get out of there!” she shouted. “You’re going to drown!”
He jumped from boulder to boulder and disappeared into the forest, only to emerge suddenly on the rock beside her. Angus scrambled away, his wide hazel eyes filled with awe and a healthy dose of horror. Robbie spoke to him in Gaelic, and the old man gaped, then slowly nodded and ran into the forest.
“What did you say to him?”
Robbie turned and took her in his arms, locking his hands around her back and leaning his chest away so he wouldn’t squish her passenger. “I told Angus that if he doesn’t quit warring against the MacKeages, I’m going to come back and melt every MacBain sword into a rake or shovel.”