Much Ado About Highlanders (The Scottish Relic Trilogy) Page 22
“Aye,” Alexander replied gravely. “Heard it when we first came ashore.”
“Any more news of Maxwell?”
“Nay. Maybe he’s slunk back to the Lowlands with his tail between his legs.” Alexander stared at his brother. “But about you—”
“Not now.” James dug his heels into the side of his horse and moved off.
“Let’s go,” Colin said. “The horses are rested and watered. We can beat the truth out of him when we get back to Benmore.”
Alexander looked past the MacKay men at Kenna and caught her eye. She was sitting stiff and silent beside her father. He rode over to them and spoke directly to the MacKay.
“Colin says you’ve already been to Benmore and visited with my parents.”
“Aye, we rode in yesterday.”
“Then we’re finished with formalities, Magnus. My wife will be at my side as she sees the land and her people for the first time. She rides with me.”
He stretched out his hand, and Kenna took it.
The matter was settled.
She rides with me.
A husband’s command. That was all it took to remove her father’s hands from her throat.
The day was clear and beautiful as they emerged from a woody glen, and a great valley stretched out before them. Round-topped gray mountains Alexander called Monadhliath formed one border to the north, and rising forestland of fragrant, red-limbed pines rolled upward to the south. The great River Spey wound like a sparkling jeweled serpent along the wide floor of the valley, and Kenna’s breath caught in her chest at the beauty of the scene. The pasturelands of the valley were green and the farm fields midharvest. As she and Alexander led the Macpherson and MacKay warriors, the men and women gathering the grain raised their hats and shouted welcome to them.
James had long before disappeared ahead of them, and Colin stayed to the back of the line, riding with Magnus MacKay.
“I’ll bring you back another day when you can meet and speak to some of the crofters.”
“I’d very much like that,” Kenna told him, thinking of how her gift could be of use to this community.
Shortly after the sun passed overhead, they rounded another bend in the river and Alexander pointed to the great castle sitting atop a mound overlooking the waterway. Groves of tall pines flanked the north side of the edifice, and drawbridges crossed the series of ditches and moats that protectively encircled the high stone walls. To the right, a stone bridge spanned the river on seven arches and led into a friendly looking village of wood and stone buildings that clung to the south side of the Spey.
“I’ll race you to the gates,” he challenged.
“You’re on.”
A few moments later they reined in their panting steeds and rode under the arched entry into Benmore Castle. As they passed through the shadows, another wave of uncertainty clouded Kenna’s mind. Hopes. Expectations. Disappointment. What lay ahead?
“Are you coming?”
She blinked and saw Alexander beside her. She looked down at his outstretched hand. She took it.
“You’re home, Kenna.” His thumb softly caressed the back of her hand. “Look around you. This place. These people. Give them a chance to love you, as I do.”
She took a deep breath and let his words of reassurance flow over her. She trusted him as she had never trusted anyone.
“Nudge me, trip me, do something if you see me wallowing in self-pity.”
“I can think of something better to do if I notice any frown darkening that beautiful face of yours.”
She looked at him. “Can you?”
“Aye. I’ll steal you away to a quiet corner and have my way with you. A closet. A hallway in the upper floors. In one of the tower rooms. Actually, there are quite a few private spaces in Benmore that I plan to drag you into.”
Kenna blushed at the suggestive gleam in his blue eyes. This was another thing to get used to. Receiving his affection in public. Not to be embarrassed before family and clan. So different from her own family.
The courtyard was ringed with buildings that huddled beneath the curtain walls. As they rode in, Kenna greeted men and women on both sides who stopped their work and approached. All around her people cheered their arrival.
Kenna’s gaze traveled upward. On the wall of a great building across the close, a large stone medallion displayed the Macpherson family crest. Her eyes were drawn to the lion at the top of the shield. This was the same design on the brooch that Alexander wore on his tartan. The same design adorning the flags on Macpherson ships.
She stole a glance at Alexander beside her and couldn’t help but say her thoughts aloud. “Blond, blue eyes, majestic, untamed, fierce, and protecting.”
“Aye, lass. Your own lion!” His low growl made her smile.
Kenna surveyed the interior of the castle courtyard. With its three towers, Benmore Castle was far more impressive than Castle Varrich or Craignock Castle or anywhere else she’d ever been.
Alexander was reading her thoughts. “From the outside, it has the look of a fortress. But inside—you’ll see for yourself—Benmore has many comforts.”
Kenna heard the pride in Alexander’s voice. Sitting astride her horse, here in the heart of the Highlands, Kenna promised herself that she would face whatever challenges lay in her path. Somehow, she would find a way to belong.
A group of people had gathered on the stone stairwell leading up to a large doorway. She saw James had already arrived. Next to him stood a friend, an ally, a person that Kenna already knew she could rely on to teach her whatever expectations they might have of her. Colin’s beautiful wife, Tess.
A step below them, the striking redheaded woman stood with the tall, distinguished-looking man with graying hair. Alec and Fiona Macpherson. Her in-laws, she thought, feeling the blood drain from her body.
Alexander was standing beside her horse, ready to help her down. He squeezed her hand.
“Be prepared,” he murmured. “You’re their daughter now. It does not matter how old or tall or accomplished we become, those two have no reserve when it comes to showing their affection. So be ready.”
Kenna looked down into his smiling face. She was glad that her father had not yet arrived.
Alexander helped her from her horse, and the two walked side by side. In spite of her resolutions, in spite of his support, Kenna felt a weight dragging down her every step. Six months of fretting. Six months of doubt and fears. It all came down to this moment. She wanted so badly to make a good impression.
She tried not to think that she was in the presence of Lady Fiona Macpherson, half-sister to the late king himself. In her entire life, Kenna had never met anyone with nobler blood flowing in her veins. She tried to push away the memories of what she’d done at her wedding. Of how their introduction had gone before. Of how lacking she still was in sophistication and charm. She could only imagine how horrible she must look right now.
In spite of all of it, she had to wipe the slate clean. She had to make a fresh beginning. This was her only chance.
By the time they reached the group on the stairs, Kenna’s insides were as taut as knotted rawhide. Fiona was standing quietly beside her husband, her long red hair loosely braided and cascading down her back in glorious waves. Kenna realized this was the first time that she was really looking her in-laws in the face.
Fiona’s gray eyes had the same shade as James’s. The Macpherson laird was an older and more distinguished version of Alexander, and even taller than James. The love they had for their son shone brightly in their eyes as they looked at Alexander first before turning their attention to her.
“Welcome to Benmore Castle, Kenna.”
The laird’s voice was deep and resonant. She extracted her arm from Alexander’s and curtsied politely.
“Thank you, m’lord . . . m’lady,” she whispered, her head bowed. She had to do it now. The apology that was long overdue. “I’m dreadfully sorry to inconvenience you for all these months. I—”
“Welcome home, daughter,” she said softly. “We were eager for you to come, and we are now overjoyed that you’re here.”
After the disaster at the mill, Kester took Emily back to Dunstaffnage Castle to give her time to mend the hole in her heart. But the gentle care at the hands of her aunt made no difference. Days later, Emily was still a raging, pacing picture of anguish.
The ocean winds were sharp and gray skies threatened rain when Emily ordered the warrior to meet her in the empty chapel.
His disbelief and then alarm became evident as she told him her news.
“Your father will put my head on a pike when he hears this.”
“He won’t. He relies on you.”
“Emily, you must return to Craignock Castle. You’ve got a wedding to attend to. Sir Quentin has certainly arrived by now.”
“Nay, I’ll not go,” she said emphatically. “And I’ll not marry Sir Quentin, either. When you go, you can tell my father exactly that. He must call off the wedding. Cancel any agreement he’s made. Do whatever needs to be done.”
“If it’s a matter of you spending time alone with the Highlander, the abbot will not say a word. Your reputation is intact. And you told me the man was honorable.”
“He was,” she said fiercely. “James Macpherson is the most honorable man alive.”
Kester gentled his voice. “You’re angry now. Upset. In another day or two, perhaps another week here with your aunt, you’ll feel differently about all of it.”
“I will not. And I’m not staying here.”
“What do you mean, you’re not staying here? You’re with family. You’re safe. Where do you think you’re going?”
“To Glosters Priory.”
“By Saint Andrew!” Kester threw his hands up. “And now you’re pulling the same tricks as your cousin Kenna.”
Emily might be a slow learner, but she now understood very clearly what Kenna had lectured her about. What she had before was not a life. What she was walking into with that arranged marriage was no better than imprisonment. She’d tasted passion with James, no matter how brief. True, she was in love with a man who would never look upon her again without hatred and suspicion, but she could not undo the harm she’d done. She had her memories, and those would have to be enough.
“What Kenna did was no trick. And besides, I have no plan to work with the nuns like my cousin. I’ve already sent word to the prioress there. I’ll become cloistered, a bride to the Lord.”
“Have you talked to your aunt about any of this?”
“Aye, of course.”
“What did she say?”
“She says I should do as I wish,” Emily retorted.
Kester ran a tired hand down his battered face. “Listen to me, Emily. I have gone along with your plans and schemes for too long. You’re a smart and caring young woman. Think about your responsibility to your father. To your clan. You have—”
“Would it be better if I jumped into the sea?” She asked. “Or perhaps took poison or stabbed myself in the heart? Would my father or my clan prefer that I be dead, rather than giving myself over to God’s work?”
“Now, see here—”
“I’ll not marry Sir Quentin Chamberlain, Kester. So what should my choice be? Life or death?”
“Very well.” The warrior shook his head in resignation. “Though your life will certainly mean my death at the hands of the MacDougall.”
It wouldn’t. She was certain of it. Her father trusted Kester with his life, with all of their lives.
What it would mean, she guessed, was that a marriage would soon take place. But it would be her father who was marrying. And another heir would follow. And all would be well for her clan. Perhaps not today, but in due time.
“Thank you,” Emily said without joy.
“But on one condition. If you insist on going to Glosters Priory, then I must see you safely there.”
Lying in the gorse at the top of the ridge, Maxwell saw the storm sweeping down the valley. The rain would be on them soon, but it didn’t matter.
He’d found them.
Below, a black, foam-pocked river flowed along the narrow valley before disappearing into a pine forest that stretched as far to the south as the eye could see. To the north, the valley’s hillsides rose steeply to peaks shrouded in mist.
Beside the river, smoke rose from two fires in the fenced-in yard of a hunting lodge. And in the yard, two dozen men and boys gathered in a large circle, raucously enjoying the combat between two lads no more than eight years old and identical in size and ability. The boys were fighting with short swords and sticks, and the battle was pitched. With every blow, the lads’ cries reached them.
“If that ain’t them, I’ll fock one o’ them shaggy red cows yonder,” the man next to him said, nodding to the cattle grazing untended across the valley.
“Is or ain’t, you’ll fock the poor beast anyhow,” another man sniggered, drawing low laughter from the line of men lying along the ridge.
“Quiet, fool,” Maxwell ordered. “Or I’ll cut your throat here and now.”
Silence descended immediately.
Maxwell turned toward the lad standing with the horses and gestured for him to approach. The boy came quickly. His lip was still swollen from a blow he’d gotten the last time he was slow to answer a summons.
The Lowlander grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the ground beside him.
“Look down there, Jock,” he demanded. “Think you could beat either of them lads?”
The boy peered at the two battling in the farmyard. He shrugged sullenly.
“Didn’t think so,” Maxwell sneered. “Just a fishing lad, and no fighter, I’m thinking.”
He scanned the number of adversaries and looked at Jock again. “What do you think? Should we attack? Can we take ’em?”
“Aye,” he answered. “They’ve only a few more men than you. You should attack straightaway.”
Maxwell shook his head, looking in grim amusement at Jock. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Seeing us caught in a fight we might not win?”
The boy said nothing.
“Nay, we’ll not bleed here in these godforsaken Highlands for a pair of miserable whelps. We’ll take the MacKay lads, but at a time and place of our own choosing. Back to the horses.”
Jock scrambled away.
Below, the line of rain reached the lodge, and the boys were soon slipping and falling and covered with mud. The laughter and shouts of encouragement only increased, and the two fought on.
“With their spirit, those lads will be out hunting again in the morning,” Maxwell said. “And when they go, we’ll find our chance to separate them from the others.”
“Judging from the sound of them, them young curs’ll put up a yowl that’ll bring their keepers down on us quick.”
Maxwell drew his dagger and held it up in front of the man’s face. “Well, if they do, then we’ll just cut out their tongues and see if they can muster even a whimper.”
Chapter 25
None, but to desire your good company.
Looking into Lady Fiona’s face, Kenna saw the warmth in those gray eyes and knew that all would be well between them. Her eyes misted. The older woman drew Kenna into her arms and that was her undoing. A mother’s embrace that told her she was at home now. Kenna returned the hug even as she tried to tame the raw emotions bubbling to the surface.
“How about me?” the laird protested.
“You shall wait your turn,” Fiona whispered, holding on to Kenna.
More horses were arriving in the courtyard. Kenna heard the laird shout out a welcome to the MacKay laird. Tension crept up from the base of her spine.
“See to our guest, my love,” Fiona told the laird. “My daughters are coming with me.”
&nb
sp; Wrapping an arm around Kenna, she started up the wide steps with Tess at her other side.
Alexander was beside them as they reached the door. “And no welcome for your son, mother?”
“Oh, I suppose you deserve one,” Fiona laughed, embracing him.
Alexander lifted his mother off the ground and whirled her around, causing her to shriek. Kenna worried that he might hurt her. She needn’t have feared.
“No sooner they cross the threshold of Benmore,” Tess whispered, kissing Kenna on each cheek, “and the ruffian comes out in all three of them.”
“So I see,” Kenna replied with a smile.
“And they get it from their father.” Tess nodded toward the laird. “So be prepared to get tricked and tripped and occasionally knocked off your feet. It is just their way of showing their affection. And it doesn’t matter that you married the one; you are now sister to the other two, and that makes you a fair target.”
“Which makes me a sister to you, too.”
“I know.” Tess’s dark eyes reflected the brilliance of her smile as she hugged Kenna. “I was an only child and spent most of my years without the company of anyone my own age. I think I’ve been more impatient for this day to come than anyone else.”
“Outside . . . with the rest of them.” Fiona’s order to Alexander drew the two women’s attention. “Your father needs you. The MacKays need to be seen to. And I believe your brothers need to see you down by the stables.”
“The stables?” Kenna asked quietly.
Tess nodded. “It doesn’t matter how old they are, the three always need to fight about politics, harvests, horses, religion, tides, and anything else that occurs to them,” she whispered. “And I think before you and I were in the family, every other argument was about some woman or other.”
Kenna didn’t think she could ever think about Alexander and another woman—no matter how far back—without wanting to scratch out someone’s eyes. He belonged to her now.
“Wait, but why the stables?”