Isla's Heart

The Mackenzie Girls

Conall paced the battlements of Castle Lochiel, they were a new addition that had been added in the years since his departure. In fact many changes had been made while he'd been at war.

Two large towers, separated by the enlarged great room, now watched over the valley's and peaks that surrounded the keep. Two outer baileys had been added, protecting the inhabitants from any threat. Barracks, training fields and several work stations now littered the inner bailey.

Yes.  Conall's father had surely prospered since sending his son away without a second thought. It seemed spying for The Bruce, could do that for a clan.  Conall well knew the truth of this, even if he did carry a sort of bitterness at never being told that Robert Bruce had dealings with his father.

None of that mattered however, because now, against all odds, it belonged to him.

Conall leaned against the large stone of one battlement, closed his eyes and let the cool highland breeze wash across his overly warmed skin. So much had transpired since his return home he'd hardly had a moment to digest it all.

He'd not known what to expect upon his return but the last thing he'd thought to find was Alasdair Cameron of Lochiel confined to a deathbed, whittled down to nothing but wrinkled skin and bone.

However, what made his head spin and sent his stomach plummeting to his boot clad feet, was his father's last words, "It's yours, you rotten boy. All of it..... Yours.", then an eerie smile had stolen across his decrepit face, "May it curse you as it has me."

Then Alasdair Cameron took his righteous bitterness and left this world.

The surprises had not ended there. If only they had! No, next he'd been told that in order to make his Lairdship true, he must marry the woman his father had been set to wed before he'd taken ill. Conall could not pretend this did not make him wish to spit on his dead father's corpse and march back to Douglas' side at the borderlands.  But even if he did not take much pride in being handed the reins to such a vast land, he knew that Sir James Douglas would, so he'd stomped his own inclinations into the spiced rushes of his father's solar and did the old man's bidding.

Feeling Gills eyes watching him, he turned around, "What?"

"Are ye going to stand watch for her all day, lad?" He picked something from his teeth, "I'm sure there is a much better use of our time."

"I've no patience for you today, Gills. None." He practically growled.

"Don't go getting' snippy with me cause your father strapped you with a bride you know nothing of," He chuckled now, "What if she's a sodden cow with three chins and a voice of gravel?" 

Not wishing to throw his only ally over the balustrades he chose to ignore the taunting words, "They should have been here by now", he turned back to Gills, "They should have been here long ago. It's as if the entire universe is conspiring to drive me mad."

"Eh! Don't go blowing your head up. You're not nearly that important, boy." Gills joined him at the battlements, his long grey hair floating around his head in the evening breeze, "They like to keep ye waitin', women do. You'll learn that quickly."

"I'll not be learning one damn thing about this girl. She'll do as I bid and that will be that."

Gills' deep laugh could be heard even from the outer bailey, he slapped his ignorant friend on the back, "We'll see about that. We'll just see."

Conall rolled his eyes and strode further away from the obnoxious bag of bones that had decided to follow him to Lochiel. What did the man know about women anyway? Other than a whore here and there, he'd never seen Gills in the company of a Lady. He was just as much of a warlord as Conall. In fact, he had no idea what Gills had done or seen prior to picking the young Conall out of an unfortunate  melee in Ireland and putting him under his wing.