Authors notes: Handfasting is an old Scottish tradition with varying definitions depending upon the context of the ceremony. Please visit www.religioustolerance.org/mar_hand.htm for a better explanation.

Disclaimers: See Chapter 1

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"Flint, the whole staff's in an uproar," Scarlett hissed as she past him.

"What's going on?" Flint stood with his back to her, watching several maids running for the stairs. "I haven't heard anything from Beach Head or Shipwreck since..." His words were interrupted at the sight of Destro and Ian entering the hall. "He's back. Where's she at?" He watched the two men head for Destro's library. "What are they up to now?"

"Destro's got an important visitor...everyone's talking about it," Scarlett walked a short distance away to get a better view.

"Do we have a name for this mystery guest?"

"They're calling him the Buchanan," she exhaled a deep breath. "I better get back to the kitchens to see what's going on...'sides, Margaret will hunt me down if I don't get back soon." She cringed, walking towards the kitchen. "Flint...you're not going to believe this...look," she paused, pointing towards the window as a transport truck pulled up to an outer building. She spotted Beach Head and Shipwreck being dragged from the truck. Their hands bound behind their backs. Shackles hung across their ankles. "I guess that explains why they didn't check in."

"Yeah but it doesn't explain where she is." He grumbled. "You see what you can find out while I figure a way to spring those two."

*****

"Any luck?" Scarlett looked up from polishing a suit of armor to see Flint standing off to the side.

"Nah, I tried. Destro's got Sean or Liam guarding them...personally," he fumed, folding his arms over his chest and bringing his right hand up to rub his jaw as he thought. "Any idea where she is?"

"Nope, no one's saying a word...not even Margaret. I don't like the looks of this one bit," Scarlett paused, setting her cloth down with her cleaning supplies. "Destro and Ian are like this," she raised two crossed fingers. "He was ready to kill him the other night and now..."

"Something's going down," Flint's splayed his hand, cutting her words off as his eyes narrowed on a squad gathering in the hall. "Where's Destro and Ian?"

"Don't know...I was busy in the kitchens," she scowled at the sound of Margaret's voice bellowing to her. "I better go," she groaned.

*****

Beach Head was feigning sleep on his cot when he heard the sounds of the door open. He peeked over to Shipwreck, dropping his hand down in a sleepy gesture to indicate the sailor needed to look sharp.

"I was sent to replace you," Flint slipped into a Scottish brogue, disguising his voice to throw the grenadier off.

"I haven't seen you before," the grenadier studied him for a moment.

"I just transferred back," Flint shrugged. "Look, if you want me to find Sean to vouch for me..."

"Nah, I've 'ad enough of these two," the grenadier sneered, grabbing his gear. "Sides, I've got a date in town," he winked, heading out the door.

Flint waited for the grenadier to get out of sight before he moved towards the desk to lift a set of keys. He walked to the cell doors and rolled his eyes at the two men asleep on their cots.

"Whacha' lookin' at, yahoo," Beach Head snapped, cracking an eye open.

"Hey, Beachhead.... they sent us a new babysitter!" Shipwreck sat up, reaching for a cup to throw against the bars.

"Babysitter! Do I look like a damn babysitter to you?" Flint growled through the bars.

"FLINT!" They looked at each other.

"How the hell did you get nabbed?" Flint grumbled.

Shipwreck sprung from his cot. "Man, if you ain't a sight for sore eyes."

"Come on. The two of you can tell me all about this once we're clear," Flint unlocked the doors, setting the men free. "Something big is going down. No one's seen her." He scanned the area outside the building. "It's clear...the two of you slip inside the back of the transport. I'll get us out of here; then we can figure our next move," he reached for his sidearm, removing the safety before reholstering it. Stepping from the building, Flint double-checked, looking right to left, to make sure it was clear before he waved them into the transport. Jumping in the driver's side on the right, he slipped the transport into drive and drove out of the castle without a problem. He gulped, feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He checked the side mirrors noting that a skeleton crew was standing watch on the outer perimeter.

*****

"I'm looking for Mr. Smythe," Agent O'Rourke leaned over the bar.

"Not 'ere," the innkeeper shrugged, looking past the man. "Saw 'im late last night, talkin' to tha man o'er there." He pointed towards Beach Head.

"Thanks," O'Rourke nodded quickly heading towards the ranger.

"Have you seen Mr..."

"Look, yahoo, why don't you just put up a sign or somethin'?" Beach Head sneered, dragging the man to the side.

"I have to find him right away, I'm..."

"I know; you're the yahoo from the yard," Beach Head fumed, shoving the man into his chair. "The last time I checked, we were covert. That means no one knows we're here." He growled, raising a brow.

"Look, I don't have time. My supervisors are breathing down my neck as it is," the man reached for a handkerchief in his pocket to wipe the back of his neck, frantically searching the room. "I have to find him. I have to...if I don't stop this they'll have my badge."

"What the hell are you rambling on about...stop what?" Beach Head frowned.

"They're joining forces," O'Rourke squirmed in his chair, pulling out a piece of paper. "I didn't see it coming...I didn't see it."

"See what?" Beach Head snatched the paper, quickly scanning. "What the...special license...what is this?"

"Destro and Daniel Buchanan are combining interests the old fashioned way," O'Rourke whispered low enough for Beach Head to hear.

"Huh? Look, give it to me straight," Beach Head grumbled, shaking his head.

"Ailíse McCullen is marrying Ian Buchanan today at....where are you going?" O'Rourke fell from his chair as Beach Head jumped up, running for the stairs.

"Stay right there," Beach Head leaned over the rail. "I'll be right back..."

Shipwreck was leaning back in his chair with his feet kicked up on the table, flipping through a magazine when Beach Head rushed into the room.
"Where's Flint? He's not gonna like this one damn bit."

"Wha...he's calling Hawk," Shipwreck caught his chair from tipping.

"WHERE IS HE?"

"His room...geesh...you'd think COBRA were sneaking in or something," Shipwreck sighed, lifting his magazine up in his hands.

"Did you tell him about her and that yahoo?" Beach Head snatched the magazine from him, throwing it against the wall.

"Hey...this is one sailor who happens to enjoy living," Shipwreck bobbed in his chair. "Sides how'd you think he'd take it if I told him Ian had fast hands."

"Hawk's ordered us to pull her out of there at the first opportunity. Doc's told him he needs her a safe distance from Destro to remove that necklace. What about fast hands?" Flint growled from the doorway with his eyes narrowing on Shipwreck.
"Ah...you know how...you...ah...said, we'd," Shipwreck gulped at the sight of Flint's hands involuntarily clenching and unclenching. "Um...that is you see..."

"No time for this," Beach Head snapped, meeting Flint's glare. "That yahoo from the yard is downstairs in a panic, looking for you."

"Me? Why?" Flint frowned.

"You ain't gonna like this," Beach Head tightened his own fist, setting his jaw. "She's not in the castle...."

"We know that," Flint interrupted, raising his brow.

"O'Rourke's in a panic about Ailíse McCullen marrying Ian Buchanan today," Beach Head watched as rage and anger filled Flint's eyes.

"THAT SON OF A BITCH!" Flint roared, heading downstairs to find O'Rourke. The pub was celebrating a bit of gossip when he entered the room.

"First rounds on th' 'ouse," the bartender called out over the crowd. "Tis unless ole Milligan 'ere bamboozling all us 'ere."

"What's going on?" Flint slipped into a chair beside O'Rourke, oblivious to a stranger entering the pub.

"Destro's niece is marrying Laird Buchanan's heir today," O'Rourke threw back a shot of Johnny Walker.

"What? Where?" Flint slammed his fist down, shaking the table.

"I don't know," O'Rourke raked his fingers through his thinning hair, resting his hand on the nap of his neck.

"I got word last night, lad," the stranger dressed as a haggard old seaman neared the table, clamping his hand on Flint's shoulder before dragging a chair to the side of them.

"Jason?" Flint studied him closely through his disguise.

"He's sent her to the Buchanan manor house," Jason fumed, motioning to two men in the corner of the room.

"How do you know?" O'Rourke stared incredulously at the older man.

"I know cause this is my home," Jason hissed. "If you're bloody yard had done their jobs in the first place, Destro wouldn't have my daughter."

"You...are?" O'Rourke stammered.

"Jason...'bout time ye made it. C'mon... we canna' talk 'ere. The laird has spies everywhere," one of the men nodded towards the back room of the pub. "We can go ta' Maggie's."

"Aye, let's move," Jason stood to follow when he caught O'Rourke also standing out of the corner of his eye. "You're not goin' with us," he fumed.

"But I have orders," O'Rourke stammered, looking to Flint.

"You're not goin' with us, and that's final," Jason scowled, shoving the man back into his chair. "Get yer men and follow me," Jason called over his shoulder to Flint. With a quick signal from Flint, Beach Head and Shipwreck were following the two men from a safe distance to Maggie's.

*****

"Has anyone heard from Zarana lately?" Zartan scowled at the 'Noks playing cards.

"No, she hasn't checked in since...." Buzzer shrugged, laying down his hand. "A bloody full house...read'em an' weep mate."

"Destro busted out, why?" Torch threw his hand down. "That's the third time in a row, MATE!"

"I want the two of you to find her. Check out the Joes base and see if she's still there. If we can't get her out, we'll grab the real Lady Jaye as a bargaining tool. I can't afford to lose Zarana. She knows too much."

*****

"Maggie!" Jason called from the door, spotting the woman in the kitchen.

"Jason," she gushed, racing up to him and throwing her arms around his neck. "Thank God, ye made it in time. Amanda said ye..."

"What do you remember about the Buchanan's manor house?" Jason guided her to a chair. "They have Alison there," he sighed heavily, kneeling in front on her.

"Aye, Margaret was goin' on and on 'bout tha preparations," she folded her hands in her lap.

"What time are they starting?" Jason locked eyes with her.

"After supper...Jason. Ye canna' be thinkin' of goin' after her. Ye know tha grenadiers are there." She warned.

"Aye...but they're not gettin' my daughter," he vowed, looking over his shoulder towards the Joes. "Have any of you seen her lately?"

"Well..ah...we did," Shipwreck gulped waving his hand towards Beach Head.

"And?"

"Ah...ah..." Shipwreck stammered.

"Out with it man!" Jason barked. "What happened?"

"We found them together at the lodge. He was all over her...we were about to break into her bedroom," Shipwreck cautiously watched Flint's chest heave. "I don't think she...I mean..." Shipwreck began to stutter.

"He was trying to get her into bed...saying he'd wait...wouldn't rush." Beach Head shoved Shipwreck to the side. "I don't' think he's gotten very far with her," Beach Head huffed, folding his arms.

"I dunno, you heard that one grenadier goin' on and on about Ian's fast hands," Shipwreck flinched back, catching Flint's fists clench tightly at his sides.

"FAST HANDS?" Flint growled, silently reining his temper under control. "Are you sure he said fast hands?"

"Naw...it was hand...hand?" Beach Head pondered, scratching his head.

"Handfasting?" Jason interjected, his eyes narrowing on Shipwreck and Beach Head.

"That's it," Shipwreck sighed, catching a flash of recognition crossing Flint's brow. "You know what it is?"

"Yeah...and I'm not planning on letting him enjoy anything tonight," Flint fumed.

"Ye may not make it in time," Maggie spoke up.

"If you can get her out of the manor, I can hide her away from all of them," Jason reasoned. "I'll have my men hide your doctor there before you bring her out."

"But Jason, if she goes through with tha ceremony, she's a Buchanan," Maggie argued.

"Nay...you heard them. She doesn't know who she is. It wouldn't be binding anyway...she is not Ailíse McCullen. She's Alison Hart-Burnett," Jason countered.

"Nay, yer wrong...the old laird created a birth certificate in tha village tha day she was born. It's in the Vicar's books."

"Handfasting's just a promise, isn't it?" Flint questioned with a furled brow. "We were on assignment in Aberdeen and watched a couple speak their vows," Flint paused before he continued, searching for his next words.

"Aye...it is," Jason frowned.

"We were...ah...posing as a couple to blend in with the locals. We were after weapons shipment headed for COBRA. I'll wait for our chance and get her out of here." Flint changed the subject, looking at Beach Head and Shipwreck.

Jason watched him closely. "And, when was that last assignment?" Jason suppressed a grin.

"Eight months ago... Shipwreck and Beach Head will need to dress as the guests to slip inside. I can get in as a grenadier on duty."

"Flint, she doesn't know us," Shipwreck gulped. "What makes you think you can take her out of here with all of those grenadiers?"

"They're enjoying the reception...we're not," he sneered. "I'll chloroform her if I have to," Flint growled, clenching his fists.

*****

Ailíse stood, studying her gown in the full-length mirror of the guest room she was staying in at the Buchanan manor home. Her fingers gently adjusted the hood of the traditional arisaid as she surveyed her appearance, noting the McCullen plaid draped over her shoulder. "It's a bit much, isn't it," she stroked her fingertips along the fabric. "I mean it's just an engagement...right?"

"You'll switch the McCullen plaid for the Buchanan, milady, during the ceremony," the seamstress smiled, stepping back from her.

"But..." She turned, hearing a knock at the door. She saw Destro standing in the doorway with Margaret as the seamstress opened it.

"Everyone's waiting," Destro walked towards her with a jewel case in hand. "This belonged to your Grandmother," he smiled, opening the case to reveal a Celtic broach. "Something old...I know," he removed it, fastening it to her plaid. "Margaret, will you please see to it that the broach is placed on the other plaid?" He turned to the older woman standing behind him.

"Aye," the old woman smiled, wiping tears away from her eyes.

"Uncle, can I speak with you a moment...alone?" Ailíse placed her hand on his arm.

"What is it, my dear? Ian's waiting," he frowned. "Leave us," he growled to the others when she didn't reply.

"I don't think I can do this," her eyes fell to the floor. "I can't explain it...something inside tells me it's wrong," she stammered, placing her hand over her heart.

"Nonsense, you're nervous. Ian's a fine lad," he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Now, we're going to be late."

"Why are we rushing this? It's just an engagement," she tensed.

"Yes...and no," Destro sighed heavily, resting his hands on her shoulders. "The families have planned this since you were born," he said flatly. "We've agreed you can walk away from this if you choose later, but we expect you to enter this in good faith." He studied her for a moment, lowering one hand to his pocket, grasping the remote. "Ailíse?"

"You're right...it's just nerves," she sighed heavily, looking back at the mirror one last time.

"Bridget will be staying with you here," Destro offered her his arm. "She's preparing a larger suite for you as we speak."

"But, I thought I was returning to the castle," she hesitated.

"It's best you stay here for a few more days until we locate any other Joes in the area. Now, we have to meet Ian," he smiled, taking her arm through his. "It's going to be a day to remember," he patted her hand over its resting place on his forearm.

*****

"It's about time you got here...how did you find us?" Scarlett caught her breath, having had the wits scared out of her by Flint suddenly pulling her around a corner.

"Wait for me. I'll be back as soon as I find someone to cover the balcony," Flint whispered to her as they watched Ailíse leave her chambers on Destro's arm. Her back was turned to them as she descended the staircase.

"What's she wearing?" Flint strained to look at her retreating form.

"It's a traditional arisaid -- like a great kilt over her dress with a hood she'll remove for the actual ceremony. She's supposed to change to the Buchanan plaid," Scarlett strained to get a better look. "I'd hate to be in her shoes." She shook her head.

*****

Destro watched with her from inside the house, overlooking the gardens. "You look radiant, my dear," he kissed her on the cheek.

"Thank you, uncle." A few tears escaped her eyes as she listened for the opening strains of a Celtic ballad.

"Shall we, my dear?" He bowed his head slightly, raising his hand for her to settle hers over top his as he led her outside to the guests. The vicar stood beneath a small gazebo with Ian. She smiled to them before glancing to Patrick standing beside his cousin.

Destro's words repeatedly echoed in her mind while she walked slowly towards him. She executed a short curtsey to Destro then to the Vicar before he spoke in Gaelic.

"What's he saying?" Shipwreck hissed to Beach Head.

"How am I supposed to know?" The ranger snapped taking a seat towards the back of the crowd. Shipwreck suppressed a grin at the sight of the ranger looking over his shoulder and scanning the crowd while fidgeting in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs. "Damn...skirt...it ain't right...you don't see Flint in a skirt," Beach Head grumbled.

"It's a kilt," Shipwreck corrected, sliding out of the rangers reach. "Look, even old Metal Head's wearing one," he pointed, receiving a growl from Beach Head. The two men sat, shifting uncomfortably as they scanned the room for Flint.

The vicar's voice boomed above the guests reciting the ceremony in rich Gaelic tones, instructing Ian to take her hand in his. She looked down at her hand in his, slowly raising her eyes to his face. She snatched her fingers from his grasp as the other man's face morphed over his. A piercing headache caused her to falter as she stepped back, tripping over the hem of her gown.

"Ailíse?" She heard Ian's voice as she fainted.

"What happened?" Shipwreck climbed up on a chair to see over the crowd.

"Get down," Beach Head hissed, yanking him down to the floor. "She fainted." He whispered, pulling Shipwreck back as Ian cradled her in his arms.

"She's fine...just a bit of nerves," Destro chuckled as a doctor approached with a vial of smelling salts.

"What's Metal Head doing?" Shipwreck squinted his eyes at Destro holding a slim device in his hand.

"Hmmm?" Beach Head eyed him carefully. "He's got something in his hand," Beach Head leaned to the side, gauging Destro's next move. He watched him slip the device into his pocket as she inhaled the salts.

"Ailise?" Ian lifted her to her feet.

"Are we ready to continue?" Daniel Buchanan pushed his way through the crowd.

"Grandfather," Ian scowled.

"I need a few minutes," Ailíse lifted the back of her hand to her forehead. She took a step and nearly tripped a second time, prompting Ian to lift her up in his arms.

"Ian, please put me down," she caught Destro's eyes narrowing in on them. "I can do this." She smiled weakly towards the vicar.

"If you're sure?"

"I've never been more certain," she replied flatly.

"Did you just hear her?" Shipwreck hissed to Beach Head.

"Yeah...she's out of it. Look at Metal Head," he pointed to Destro as he slipped something in his pocket.

"What's he doing?"

"Hell if I know what he's up to...look at her...she's lost," they watched her move through the ceremony gingerly as she faced Ian. Placing her hand in his, she recited the words offered by the vicar. Watching her hand as he bound it to Ian's, distorted images bombarded her mind as she struggled to maintain her composure.

Flint arrived in the garden as the minister pronounced them handfasted and blessed their union. His world threatening to crumble as he watched the woman he loved promise herself to another; his eyes trained on Destro grinning ear to ear as Ian kissed her.