Much Ado About Highlanders (The Scottish Relic Trilogy) Page 2

  “Where is he?”

  The younger one, James, was a hand’s breadth taller and nearly as muscular. With his dark red hair and piercing gray eyes, the royal Stewart blood that ran in both brothers’ veins was more pronounced in him. But there was an aura of command in each man that forced lesser mortals to attend them closely.

  “They’re coming. Give them time.”

  “I should have done this myself.”

  “Diarmad lost the bloody ship,” James replied, joining his brother at the window. “It’s only right that he should be the one to snatch the MacDougall chit.”

  These sons of the great laird Alec Macpherson clearly feared nothing, but the old priest could not pretend to be cut from the same cloth. His abbey, perched on a rocky cliff, was not half a day’s ride south of the MacDougall’s castle, and the thick curtain walls no longer provided the defense that they once did. In this modern age of cannon and gunpowder, the abbey felt more like a ripe plum on a tree, inviting pillage by any passing marauder.

  “You have to admit it’s a good plan,” James pressed. “Diarmad grabs the lass, and we ransom her back for the ship. Easy. Effective. And the good abbot here has graciously consented to act as our intermediary. Is that not so, Abbot?”

  Not trusting his voice, the old man nodded. These Highlanders were going to get him killed, pure and simple.

  “I still say we should have sailed in with a fleet of our ships, stormed Craignock Castle, and throttled Graeme MacDougall until he told us where he’s hidden our vessel.”

  “You just hate to be left out of the action. Don’t you?” James asked.

  The abbot looked from one brother to the other.

  They’d been waiting here all day, and they were likely to be here all night if the Macpherson captain and his men didn’t get a chance to spirit away the laird’s daughter. The abbot broke into a cold sweat at the very thought of it. Abducting Emily MacDougall from Craignock Castle itself. Saints preserve us!

  Alexander glared at his brother. “You’re damn right I don’t like sitting out here on my arse. That tongue-flapping MacDougall took our ship, by ’sblood! I want it back.”

  “And we’re getting it back.”

  “That’s not the point. Our ships rule the western seas. When have we ever lost one? Never! That’s when!”

  The abbot gazed blindly at the chart of abbey lands on his table. Since the days of the Bruce himself, the Macpherson clan had been the terror of the western seas from the Orkneys to Penzance. There was a wild story that their father, along with his friend Colin Campbell, had in one day raided an English arsenal in Carlisle, sailed into Belfast harbor where they forced the lord mayor to feed them dinner, and then made the crossing back to Glasgow in time for supper with the archbishop.

  But Alexander had a point. When word had gotten around that their ship had been taken, the Macpherson honor had taken a blow. And clearly, this bruising Highland warrior intended to reclaim both the ship and his clan’s fierce reputation.

  James wasn’t giving up. “You know that while the English are hammering away at the Borders, the regent has forbidden the clans from fighting amongst ourselves. We can’t draw blood going after the ship. Isn’t that right, Abbot?”

  The abbot cleared his throat. “That’s true, m’lord. But please don’t get me any deeper into this than I am already. If the MacDougall thinks I’m aiding you willingly, my head will be gracing a pike on the wall at Craignock before the tide turns.”

  “Well,” Alexander snorted, turning his hard blue eyes on the abbot. “That would be the first time the old bugger has done anything remotely decisive in the past twenty years, a fact that makes the taking of our ship even more bothersome.”

  As the older brother turned his back again, the abbot sagged in his chair. His old bones were weary, and the stress of this was not making him any younger. He shouldn’t be doing this. He should be reviewing the reports of the abbey farms, tallying the latest count of sheep and goats, planning his annual hunting trip to Falkland.

  This was not going to turn out well. The MacDougall lass was supposed to be married in less than a fortnight. He himself was to perform the ceremony. The groom was due to arrive any time now. If the plan worked, and clan war was somehow avoided, there would still be hell to pay. And the abbot had a terrifying idea who would be paying it.

  Shouts from the courtyard drew the attention of the three men, and the abbot dragged himself from his chair and followed the others down to the abbey’s Great Hall.

  Moments later, the door burst open and the Macpherson captain entered. Draped over his shoulder, a woman in bare feet was squirming and kicking, in spite of the ropes that bound her. The hood and gag did little to stop the violent sounds streaming from her mouth.

  Behind him, another warrior entered, leading a far more docile prisoner.

  “Two women?” Alexander asked. “Why are there two?”

  Diarmad dumped his writhing burden unceremoniously on the stone floor and looked at the two brothers. “This one is no woman. It’s a she-devil.”

  “I can see that.”

  “They were together. We didn’t know which one was the MacDougall lass.”

  James walked toward the two prizes. “Well, it looks like our bargaining position has improved a wee bit. Let’s just see what we have here.”

  When he pulled the hood off the calmer of the two, blond hair tumbled down onto shapely shoulders and doe-like eyes blinked at him.

  “Well,” Alexander grumbled. “At least you got Emily.”

  “Aye,” James said in an odd tone. “And she’s grown into a bonnie lass, I should say.”

  “What of this one, m’lord?” Diarmad jerked his head at the other woman, who for the first time ceased to fight.

  Alexander crouched beside her and untied the gag. It struck the abbot that the Highlander treated her with more gentleness than he might have expected.

  “Careful,” Diarmad warned. “She’ll bite you as soon as look at you. I’ve got claw marks up and down my arms from her.”

  Standing up, Alexander pulled off the hood. Long, chestnut-colored hair spilled out in waves.

  “Bloody hell,” he murmured.

  Violet-blue eyes stared at him with disbelief that quickly gave way to cold fury.

  “You puny, white-livered pigeon egg!” she rasped.

  Alexander glanced at James and then looked hard at Diarmad. “I’ll tell you what to do with her.”

  “Now, Alexander—” his brother began.

  “You can carry my wife to the top of this tower and throw her into the sea.”

  Chapter 2

  Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,

  Men were deceivers ever—

  One foot in sea and one on shore,

  To one thing constant never.

  Kenna’s sins obviously outweighed any good deed she’d ever performed in this lifetime. She’d clearly bypassed purgatory and dropped straight into hell.

  This was her worst nightmare come to life. She never imagined her path would ever again cross with Alexander Macpherson’s.

  At least, not looking like such a mess.

  In her dreams she was clothed in golden armor and holding a fiery sword, and Alexander was the one in tatters, groveling in the dirt.

  “Throw me into the sea? I’ll cut off any man’s hand before he lays a finger on me. Especially yours, blackguard.”

  Alexander crouched before her. His deep blue eyes were as striking as she remembered. The long lashes and chiseled face served to remind her why women made fools of themselves in his presence. His dark blond hair was longer. Tied in the back, it reached below his shoulders. The square set of his jaw was covered with a scruff of beard.

  There was a rakishness, an insolence about him that he’d contained the handful of times they’d met before. He wasn’t even trying now. He gave her a slow, thoroughly insulting inspection, starting with the wild mass of curls falling loose around her face, and ending about an eon later at he
r bare feet. She could not help but notice that his gaze passed quickly over the state of her dress but lingered far too long on her mouth and her breasts.

  Kenna couldn’t control her blush. He made her feel as though she were sitting there without a stitch of clothing on.

  “And how are you going to cut anything, wife? With that dagger of a tongue in your head?”

  Kenna tried to kick him. With the agility of a cat, he evaded the attack. She had a dirk tucked into her belt, but it was impossible to reach it with the ropes confining her. She scrambled to her feet.

  “Free my hands, coward, if you are any kind of man. Which I doubt.”

  “What were you thinking, bringing this harridan here?” Alexander barked at his men. “You saw her at my wedding. You knew what she bloody looked like.”

  “We grabbed her from behind, m’lord. And we had no idea she’d be there.”

  “Now you know. Take her back.”

  Kenna turned a fierce glare on the ones who’d kidnapped them. The men were giving them both a wide berth. “You heard him. Take us back.”

  “Will you be silent, woman!” Alexander commanded. “No one is talking to you.”

  She didn’t miss her aim this time, and her foot made contact with his boot. Excruciating pain streaked upward through her leg. She leaned against a stone pillar, waiting for the agony to abate. He seemed unaffected by the blow. She glanced at her cousin. Emily was still tied. She tried to move to Kenna, but James Macpherson held her back.

  “Send her with the abbot,” the older brother continued. “Tell the bloody MacDougall it’s a sign of our good faith in the negotiation.”

  “Negotiation?” Kenna asked him. “Still trying to find yourself a husband, Alexander?”

  “Keep her tied. And put the gag and the hood back on her. I wouldn’t want to tempt anyone with drowning her before they get to Craignock Castle.”

  “I asked a question, you rank, half-witted pignut.”

  The blue gaze swung around to her.

  “One would think that the disposition and character of someone living with nuns for six months might have improved just a wee bit. That some of their holiness might have rubbed off on you.”

  “You dare talk to me about character?”

  “That a woman living with all those religious people might have become a better person. But not you. Only Kenna MacKay could end up sounding more ill-mannered than before. And why am I not surprised?”

  “Because you’re an idiot,” she retorted, straightening up. “The only thing I needed to improve on was learning how to lower myself to converse with you, a churlish chicken stealer so conceited that he calls himself my husband.”

  “So you acknowledge that you have a husband. That’s new.”

  “I did have one for a few short hours.”

  “You still have a husband,” he said angrily, towering over her.

  She glared up at him. “Nay, our marriage has been annulled.”

  “Nay, it has not. We’re waiting for the ecclesiastic tribunal to meet. And since I’m the one who requested the annulment, I should know when the decision will be handed down.”

  “That’s just a technicality. I’ve made my home at the priory.”

  “You mean you’ve escaped to that bloody priory.”

  “It was not an escape.”

  “Call it what you will,” he interrupted. “You escaped in the night like a thief. You broke your marriage vow and disappeared, without a care for anyone you left behind.”

  The cutting anger in his eyes made Kenna shiver. He was a head taller than her, dangerous. But she’d never feared him. She wasn’t going to start now. She stood her ground, refusing to back off.

  “So you wish to speak of marriage vows? You went to a wench’s bed on our wedding night. Break marriage vows? You shattered them.”

  “That was a misunderstanding. A prank arranged by my brother Colin.”

  “I don’t care to hear this,” she fumed. “I don’t care how you got there or how long before you realized where you were. And don’t say you were drunk. You didn’t give a damn whose bed you crawled into, just as you didn’t care a straw who you were marrying.”

  “Contracts were signed.”

  “Between you and my father.”

  “I don’t recall anyone dragging you in chains to the kirk.”

  “That’s enough, you two,” James Macpherson ordered, stepping between them. He glared from one to the other.

  Kenna felt scorched by the heat of Alexander’s gaze over his brother’s shoulder, and she did her best to return the look. He opened his mouth to say more and then snapped it shut.

  “This is not the time or place for you two to revisit your rosy past,” James said sternly.

  Kenna bit back unspoken words of anger, words pent up in her for the past six months. Turning her back on them, she looked past the line of trestle tables at the large carved stone cross set into the wall.

  “Unfasten these ropes,” she hissed under her breath.

  Footsteps approached. A knife cut the cords. She didn’t know if it was Alexander or James. The ropes dropped to the floor by her bare feet. She rubbed her arms, looked down at the stained dress, ripped in places from the fight she’d put up when they were taken. The Macphersons’ reckless disregard for danger today surpassed even their own reputation. They were pirates and privateers, but Kenna knew they would not hurt a woman. Emily would be safe until arrangements were made for her freedom. But she needed to get out of here.

  Negotiation. Captives. Extravagant dowries. The conversation she’d had with Emily earlier in the day filled the gaps in what she’d heard moments ago. Kenna realized why they were taken. The MacDougall laird had been dim-witted enough to think he could take a Macpherson ship and make it part of his daughter’s dowry. But there was no logic in that whatsoever. Kenna wondered if Graeme MacDougall had consulted with her father about this. At least until the annulment was granted, her marriage to Alexander made the MacKay and Macpherson clans allies, and this made the MacDougalls distant kin, too.

  Facing the others again, she found James cutting the ropes off of Emily’s arms. Alexander loomed over the abbot, listening to whatever he was whispering, but his gaze remained fixed on her.

  “Send me back with the abbot,” she told him. “I’m ready to go.”

  Whatever composure Emily had been maintaining disappeared. “Nay! Please. You cannot leave me here.” She rushed to Kenna’s side. “Please, you have to stay with me.”

  Kenna hugged her cousin, troubled to find her shaking like a leaf.

  “Abbot,” James said. “We need a place to keep the two women until we make a decision.”

  Kenna shot a glance at Alexander, who was scowling at his brother. The abbot gestured to a novitiate hovering in the shadows by the door.

  “You, lad, show them up to the tower chamber above mine.”

  “Diarmad, go with them,” James ordered. “Make certain the two ladies are safely and securely settled while we finalize our arrangements here. And Abbot, can you send a nun up with a cloak and a dress and shoes that might fit Lady Kenna?”

  A born politician and peacemaker, James Macpherson had reportedly played an active role in finalizing the arrangements for her marriage to Alexander.

  “You will not cause trouble while you’re here,” Alexander warned, his sharp words directed only at her.

  A dozen retorts burned on her tongue, but she chose silence and ushered Emily after the young monk. Diarmad followed at a watchful distance.

  Kenna was relieved to go. She couldn’t stand Alexander’s scrutiny any longer. He undid her, and not just in firing up her temper. He was her husband. She’d not forgotten that. Not for an instant. When it came to Alexander Macpherson, she always felt like a young lass caught up in her first flush of infatuation.

  Prior to their wedding, she had wasted too much time worrying about what kind of wife she’d be. She lacked the skills of the legion of wenches that he’d infamously wo
oed and bedded. And she had none of the refined ways of the court lasses who’d been chasing him for years. After her mother’s death, she’d been raised by MacKay men. She knew how to hunt and ride a horse and use a lance and dirk and short sword, but she never cared about acquiring the courtly manners of young noblewomen.

  She was not a suitable match for Alexander Macpherson. She’d tried to convince her father to break the contract. But his hurtful words, still fresh in her mind, only affirmed what she already knew.

  You are so flawed in your manners. So lacking in even the basic knowledge of what you need to be the wife of the next Macpherson laird. And yet fortune has somehow smiled on our clan in him agreeing to overlook your faults and take you as his wife. Now, you will do your duty for a change and cease your complaining.

  And as she’d departed his chambers, he’d called out after her. You muddle this chance, lassie, and you no longer have a home in Castle Varrich. You will no longer be welcome in Clan MacKay.

  So Kenna made her decision before she took the marriage vow.

  She would run since she no longer had a father. She would run since she no longer had a clan. She refused to be a pawn in Magnus MacKay’s game. So she ran.

  Emily clung to her arm and cried softly all the way up the tower stairs.

  The chamber was small. The sparse furnishings included a small cot and some blankets, a three-legged stool, and a table. Kenna waited until she heard the latch drop into position on the other side of the door before checking the two windows. Three flights up, one overlooked the courtyard. The other faced the sea.

  “I cannot stay here. I have to get away from him.”

  “Please, you cannot leave me here alone with them,” Emily pleaded. “We cannot let them separate us.”

  “But I can go back with the abbot and arrange for your freedom by tomorrow.”

  “That’s unthinkable, Kenna. My reputation will be destroyed if I’m left alone in their clutches.”

  “Listen, I would never admit this to that knave in the Great Hall, but the Macphersons are not villainous ruffians. They’re as respectable a clan as you’ll find in the Highlands, and they’re doing this only to reclaim what was taken from them.”