Page 5 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

Kennedys.

There was something he just had to say before it was too late.

"Listen, Andrew," said Marcus, making an attempt to bring him close. With an immense effort, he managed to sit up on the bed. But it came at a price. Wheezing badly, he spat out the words.

"Listen, Andrew... I'm dying," he said. This was stating the obvious, but still, his chief warrior acted as if he had just blasphemed in church.

"Sir, nay, the clan physician is on his way. He has a number of herbs that—" Andrew began.

"Herbs? Spare me—" Marcus broke off, coughing. The last time he had tried one of his remedies, he had been welded to the cludgie for a fortnight. In that context, perhaps death was a blessing.

Trying not to start laughing again, Marcus struggled to bring himself into some sort of order. It was hard. His head was spinning wildly. If he didn't know better, he would say he was intoxicated, but the confusion was coming from within.

"Sir?" another voice had entered the tent. Marcus sat up and realized that, for the first time, he had an audience. Incandescent, he found his voice.

"Och, who are these scunners?" he snarled. All this time, he had thought he was alone. But now, the fog had cleared, at least enough to see that the tent was full of knaves and servants gawping.

Irritably, Marcus batted them away. "Go on, get oot! This isnae for anyone else's ears. Come, Andrew!"

Obediently, Andrew shooed them out. Then, when he was certain there was no one else in the tent, he turned to Marcus.

"Andrew, I'm dying. Nay, dinnae try an' argue," Marcus croaked. It was hard enough getting the words out without having to fight too.

Andrew nodded grimly but did not say anything.

Marcus carried on. "The thing is, I need ye to find someone—my eldest lassie—an' bring her back to the Duncan clan..." Marcus felt his eyes shutting and battled to keep them open. When he looked, it was to see confusion on Andrew's young face.

"But, she already is in the Duncan clan," Andrew said. His green eyes stared blankly. Marcus could see that he needed to elaborate.

"Nay, my auldest. Listen—" he hissed, but Andrew butted in.

"Sir, it's alright. Fiona, she is safely away at the clan castle," he explained.

Gradually, Marcus realized that Andrew thought he was soft in the head.

Irritated, he shook his head. "Nay, nae Fiona. She's nae my eldest bairn."

That got his attention. Now Andrew looked at him with surprise in his green eyes.

"What? Are ye sure?"

"Och, quite sure!" snapped Marcus. By now, every word was an effort, and he could take no more. "Noo haud yer wheest, an' listen. This lass was born twenty years ago—two years afore Fiona an' the others. It was afore I married… She was a servant lass...from the Kennedy clan..."

Andrew's eyes opened wide. Now he looked as if he'd been shot. Before he could say any more, Marcus jumped in. He was running out of time.

"Aye, illegitimate. Well. I couldnae keep her in the clan...so I sent her away. The bairn...tae be looked after...but I always...thought there would be time someday tae meet her. I suppose...now there isnae. So I want ye tae go an' bring her back tae the Duncan castle...an' find her place..." He took another deep breath. "Can ye do that?"

The room was swirling black. Everything was closing in around him. Suddenly, Marcus was very weak.

Through what looked like black broth, Andrew nodded. Marcus heard him but could barely see.

"Aye, sir. I can try. But tell me, where is she?"

"That's just it, I dinnae ken," said Marcus hopelessly. His voice was fading now, and it was a struggle just to keep his eyes open. "All I ken is she was safe. Paton kens all the details. Ye need tae find him. Go now. Dinnae wait. An' ask him. Ask him tae help find my daughter...Aggie..."

The words were barely out of the laird's lips when darkness fell. Without warning, he was silent.

Standing beside him, Andrew's eyes widened in fear.

"Sir?" he called, jostling Marcus's arm. But it was too late.

He had gone.