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thunder
wrenched his attention to the shuttered windows. What a night to be
out chasing down reivers. Did Iain really think they could find the
thieves in this brawl?
    Rae scrubbed a hand over his face,
then worked the kinks from his shoulder muscles. Pulling over a
chair, he braced his foot on the seat and unlaced his brogues, then
set them aside. He next removed his dirk and scabbard from his
belt, then the wide leather belt itself. Unfastening his shoulder
pin, he let his plaid drop to the floor and drew off his shirt.
Folding it and the many yards of plaid, he placed them on the
nearby trunk and stood naked before the fire. Naked except for the
charm stone suspended on a silver chain about his neck.
    Och, but the fire felt good. He tilted
his head back and savored the intense, dry heat of the flames. Let
the others continue their arguments below, guttered in their cups,
he thought. He longed for the comfort of bed and a decent night’s
sleep.
    His mind bent once more to
the squall without. Dhia, but the weather had turned savage this night,
bolts of lightning dropping all around as he and his men returned.
As they rode for the safety of the castle, the sky suddenly
exploded in a spectacle of light, a great withered hand streaking
earthward from the sky, clutching for the great tower itself.
Clutching for him, or so it seemed.
    Rae touched the charm
stone that lay on his chest, recalling the cailleach’s warning to not remove
its protective power from his neck. The old woman’s warnings still
unsettled him, not that he understood her ramblings, but had she
foreseen this night? Had the stone guarded him in some
wise?
    On entering the hall, he’d
hoped to retire straight to his room but Malcolm MacChlerich and
several of Dunraven’s other guests delayed him. He joined them in
several rounds of uisge beatha as they thrashed out the particulars of the
night’s raid, postulating who the culprits might be. Thankfully,
Iain saw fit to keep his tongue in his head and not challenge his
authority as laird again.
    The discussion moved on to other such
matters as the recent gathering of Highland chiefs, and the
“detainment” of the Dowager Queen and the wee king at Stirling
Castle. Rae saw dire portents there, but his companions expressed
only moderate interest in the current drama of the
crown.
    He left the lot of them
deep in their cups and arguments and sought his chamber.
Thankfully, Moira, Malcolm MacChlerich’ s daughter, had retired
earlier to her chamber, and Rae escaped her fawning attentions.
Moira’s interest in him was unmistakable, as was that of her
father in seeing their clans joined. The tall and
shapely blonde had accompanied her father
to Dunraven a week past, and since then, endeavored to impress Rae,
being ever near, ever solicitous. If that were not enough, Malcolm
embroiled Iain with his own fiery views, agitating his brother’s
passions which ever sought the answer to all ills in cold
steel.
    Ah, Iain. Would they ne’er see eye to
eye? And Donald, a keen young man but easily swayed. This youngest
brother, so soon to marry, must learn to trust his instincts where
others would bend him to their narrow cause.
    Rae rubbed his eyes, bone
weary. The Macphersons would arrive early in the day to finalize
the details of Donald’s marriage to their sister, Mairi, and the
terms of her tocher. Rae had agreed to meet with Donald at dawn to make their own
preparations.
    Though Rae held some concern over an
alliance between their clans, he believed Donald to be a lucky man.
He’d not only won himself a bonnie bride, but the two were quite
genuinely and deeply in love.
    Aware he could now catch only a precious few
hours of sleep, Rae headed for the bed, a luxurious piece,
skillfully carved with acanthus leaves and draped with scarlet
trappings.
    As he approached the bed,
he felt a weightiness to the air and a slight wave of dizziness
crest through him. ‘Twas as if the room had suddenly moved and he
did not. He