An old warrior separated himself from the others and stepped forward. "I bring ye greetings from my chieftain, John MacIain of Ardnamurchan."
No, it could not be that MacIain had sent only one galley.
"Where is your chieftain and the rest of his warriors?" Connor demanded.
"They've been diverted for a short time."
"Diverted?" Connor asked, holding his temper with an effort.
"Aye, more trouble with the rebels," the man said, shrugging as if it were nothing. "My chieftain expects to be here within a couple of days with his fleet of galleys."
Connor's shoulders relaxed a fraction. He could not fight with promises, but if MacIain arrived with his warriors in two days, that should be soon enough. Alex, Ian, and Duncan would be here by then as well, and it would begin. Connor's thoughts went to the attack he planned to launch on Beltane night.
"While my chieftain is detained..." The old MacIain warrior cleared his throat, dragging Connor's attention back from his battle plans.
"Aye?" Connor asked when he tired of waiting for the man to continue.
"He gave me the great honor of delivering his granddaughter to ye."
* * *
Ilysa watched for an opportunity to speak with Lachlan while Connor was busy elsewhere. She did not want to raise Connor's suspicions unnecessarily. After Lachlan left the keep, she waited a bit and then followed him outside with her basket over her arm. She caught a glimpse of him as he went into the armory. Perfect.
Rather than go directly, she took the long way around the courtyard. She went into one of the storerooms, pretending she needed something there, before circling around to the armory. When she tugged open the heavy, wooden door, she found Lachlan sitting on the long bench that ran the length of the room while sharpening his dirks with a whetstone.
"Ilysa in the armory?" he said, in lieu of a greeting. "Looking for a new axe?"
Despite the dry humor, his eyes were wary. This time, Lachlan's perpetual mistrust was well founded.
"No," she said. "I'm looking for a lighter weapon."
"Ye shouldn't be going into places like this alone," he said. "Our spy has killed two men. If I were him, you'd be dead now."
Connor had given her a similar lecture. "I am careful," she said, though her reason for following Lachlan into the armory belied that.
"Hmmph."
When Lachlan went back to sharpening his blade, Ilysa snatched an arrow from the quiver that lay beside him on the bench. As she stared at the distinctive, jagged tip, she felt as if the ground were tilting under her feet. It was a perfect match for the arrows she had cut out of Connor's chest and thigh.
Truly, she had not expected this. After watching Lachlan shoot with such skill during the battle, the idea that he could be the archer who'd tried to murder Connor had come into her head. She had only wanted to assure herself that it could not be true.
Ilysa's eyes blurred with tears at the memory of Connor's head slumped forward while Alex and Ian half carried him into Dunscaith. Then tears, this time of bitter disappointment, slid down her face because it was Lachlan, her friend, who had done it.
Her hands shook as she held the arrow out to him, her gesture an accusation. The tension between them was like a taut rope. Lachlan did not pretend he did not understand; nor did he try to rip the evidence from her hands.
"How could ye do it, Lachlan?"
* * *
Connor was furious.
He had been absolutely clear that his willingness to enter the marriage was wholly dependent upon MacIain's joining the fight against the MacLeods for Trotternish. Given that understanding, MacIain should not have sent his granddaughter ahead of his war galleys.
In the event that MacIain failed to arrive in time to participate in the battle, Connor would be in the awkward position of returning a bride. On the other hand, Connor would probably lose the battle and be dead, so any awkwardness would be short-lived.
It was a complex situation, and he would have liked to have Ilysa's advice. Of course, she was the last person he could discuss this with. How would Ilysa react when she learned that MacIain's granddaughter was here?
By the saints, how was he going to live with two women? He suspected that removing the MacLeods from Trotternish would be the easier task.
Connor hid his growing despair as he approached the two women. He assumed they were mother and daughter, for they were twenty years apart and