Highlanders. Michelle Willingham

Mary intended to give birth there.

      “We will have news soon,” Mary assured her. “Ardtornish is but hours away.”

      That evening a second messenger came. Juliana and Mary were having dinner when he arrived. Both women leapt up as the young, freckled Highland lad hurried breathlessly into the room. It was snowing outside, and he left clumps of melting snow on the floor as he stomped it off his boots and shook out his plaid.

      Juliana handed him a mug of wine. “What word?”

      He took a gulp. “Alasdair Og was at Ardtornish when we attacked. He held us off, lady, for two entire days.”

      The boy was shivering, and Mary took his cloak from him, handing it to a maid to lay it before the fire.

      Juliana was in disbelief. “But surely, my brother will prevail?”

      The boy grimaced. “My lady, Alexander has taken his men and is returning to Dunstaffnage as ye speak. And he has ordered ye to join him there, as soon as ye can go.”

      Her astonishment increased. Alexander’s attack had failed—Alasdair Og had triumphed again! Was there no justice to be had?

      And why was her brother ordering her to his seat? Did he fear for her safety at Lismore?

      The young Highlander now turned to Mary, handing her a rolled-up parchment. “From yer husband, my lady,” he said.

      Juliana walked over to Mary. “What does William say?”

      Mary looked up, unsmiling. “The Earl of Buchan has summoned him directly to a war council in Lochaber. Alexander is going, as well. William wants me to go immediately to Dunstaffnage—there will be more fighting soon, to stop Bruce’s rebellion.”

      Juliana rubbed her forehead, which suddenly ached. “More fighting, where? Is Lismore in danger?”

      “William did not say.” She stared at Juliana with trepidation. Then she clasped her small belly.

      Juliana knew she dreaded the outcome of this war—that she still feared for her husband’s life. “William is a warrior, Mary. He cannot sit out this fight.”

      “I know that.” Mary glanced at the messenger, who was no more than fifteen or sixteen. “Come sit down and sup,” she said.

      When the boy was seated and feasting on venison, Juliana and Mary walked over to the hearth and stared at it. Mary spoke first. “We should prepare to leave.”

      “Yes, we should.” Juliana sighed. She did not want to leave Lismore, but she could not disobey her brother. And there was no hardship, truly, in residing at Dunstaffnage. It was a strong fortress and a magnificent estate. “Alexander must be worried, to order me from my home.”

      Mary gazed back at her. “Yes, he must be worried, but is he concerned about the war with Bruce, or about reprisals from Alasdair Og?”

      Both women fell silent then, lost in their own thoughts.

      Mary finally said, “I will need a day to ready all of our belongings.” Because of her three children, she traveled with a large entourage.

      “We can have our trunks sent to us and leave at first light,” Juliana said. She was beginning to feel some anxiety that their brother indeed feared reprisals from Alasdair Og. She had only met him once, but she felt certain he would be thirsting for revenge, after the attack on his new stronghold.

      Mary shook her head. “I don’t think lingering a single day will matter; neither Alexander nor William said we must rush. And you do not know when you will return. You must prepare the keep for your absence.”

      “You’re right,” Juliana said, deciding she was foolish to suddenly become nervous. “I am going to find a pallet for the boy, and retire early. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

      * * *

      THE FOLLOWING DAWN both women were up, each involved in the vast preparations necessary for their departure. Juliana took her steward, Walter, aside to go over her many lists. Winter was a quiet time, and she hoped to be back in the spring, when the usual repairs would have to be made to her castle and her galleys, when the cellars, depleted during the winter, would have to be filled, and when cattle and sheep began birthing, and when she would be needed for dozens of baptisms—there were so many children born in the spring.

      “Lady!” One of her Highland soldiers rushed into the great room. “Two dozen ships are approaching.”

      Juliana leapt to her feet with her steward. “Fergus—is it my brother?”

      “They are too far to remark, but they come from the west.”

      Juliana froze. Ardtornish Castle was to the west.

      As she stood there, her heart racing, Mary hurried into the hall. “What is it?” she cried. “I heard that a fleet approaches us!”

      Juliana did not answer. She rushed past Mary, going up to the tower, Fergus, the steward, and Mary behind her.

      The watch was outside the tower, on the ramparts, both men peering out to sea. A number of her archers had gathered, as had women and children. Juliana rushed through the tower and outside.

      It was a gray wintry day, with poor visibility, the sky and the sound very much the same dreary color. Shadows were slowly, inexorably approaching, their shapes distinct enough to know she was watching a fleet of galleys.

      And then the fog suddenly shifted, a part of it lifting, a ray of sun pouring through the clouds. The fleet was suddenly illuminated.

      More than two dozen ships approached. And then she saw the huge blue-and-red flags of Clan Donald blazing like fire into the gray skies.

      Alasdair Og was bent on reprisal—and he meant to attack her.

      “Ring the bells,” Mary ordered. One of the men rushed inside to obey, and instantly, the bells began to toll.

      “Can we defend ourselves?” Juliana heard herself ask. Her heart slammed as she watched the fleet, sailing ever closer.

      “We will defend ye, Lady Juliana, I vow it,” Fergus cried.

      Mary confronted the soldier. “That is not what she has asked. Can we thwart Alasdair Og and his army? Do we have enough men, enough arms, enough munitions?”

      Fergus flushed. “The truth, lady?”

      “Yes, of course we want the truth!” Mary cried.

      “We can defend Coeffin Castle, I think, but not Coeffin Castle and Achanduin at once!”

      Achanduin Castle had been the seat of Bishop Alan. Juliana must decide between defending her home, or that of the now deceased bishop. But if that were the case, there was no choice to make. She looked at her pale sister. “Maybe he does not want Achanduin Castle.”

      “If he is here to strike at us, we will soon know it, and we must prepare.”

      Juliana nodded. “Fergus, if he attacks Achanduin Castle, we will let it fall. But we cannot allow Coeffin Castle to fall.” She could barely breathe.

      “Summon every archer to the ramparts,” Mary said. “Make sure our catapults are ready, and we must start fires. We must also send word to Alexander.”

      “I am prepared to defend the castle, Lady Mary,” Fergus said. He signaled to several men and hurried away.

      Juliana inhaled. Her sister had endured several sieges in her life. Fergus was an experienced soldier—one of her best men. But, dear God, she had lost her five best soldiers already. What if they could not defend themselves?

      Alexander would come, even if he had already left for Lochaber, but what if he was too late?

      What did Alasdair Og intend? To seize her home—or to destroy it?

      Juliana was frightened. He had murdered Bishop Alan without remorse, as if he did not have a conscience. But surely,