Highland Moonlight (7 page)

“He has more grace in his movements than the others, but less

strength. He has need of greater stamina because of it.”

“And Alexander?”

“His ability as a warrior can not be faulted. He is skillful with the blade

and can anticipate his opponent’s movements.”

John’s smile, laced with satisfaction, carved deep groves in his

cheeks. “You are quick to find a man’s weaknesses and strengths.”

Her gaze swung to her father as he stood to one side of the great hall

watching the men practice. “‘Tis something Collin has taught me. Always be

aware of your allies’ weaknesses as much as your enemies, lest they

change position.”

The men opened the door to cool the room. Mary drew the tartan shawl

more closely around her as cold air waft upward across the gallery. She

looked up to find John frowning at her. “Were my words too direct, my lord?”

“Nay, lass. The truth must always be spoken directly.”

She inclined her head in agreement.

“The council will expect such truth as well. They will be here by

midday.”

A sinking feeling hit the pit of her stomach. “I did not wish this.”

“Aye, I know.” John said.

She smoothed back the soft wisps of hair from her cheek that had

slipped from the braid.

“By Alexander’s own admission, you were a virgin, Mary. By papal law,

if proven guilty of rape, he may be stripped of his property and—punished in

other ways.”

Her attention fastened on Alexander’s face. As if he sensed her

attention, his pale gold gaze rose to her face and he stepped back from his

opponent. He had taken her to him with such tenderness, and then turned

against her in the most humiliating way possible. Had she tempted him as

the priest had suggested? Was she somehow responsible for what

Alexander had done? Guilt warred with her pain. Self-doubt warred with her

anger.

She studied the man beside her. In the two days she had resided

within the castle, the Campbell laird had sought out her company several

times. At first, she had been wary of his interest, but had found his gruff

charm hard to resist. She had reminded herself often he was Alexander’s

father and his loyalty to his son came first.

“The council is meeting here to give you justice, Mary.”

She shook her head. “There is no justice to be had.” She folded her

arms against her midriff.

With the bend of his forefinger, John tipped her face back up to him.

“Wed Alexander, Mary. Save yourself the shame of bearing your child out of

wedlock. Do not let your bairn be known as a bastard.”

If only it was that simple. How could she wed a man whose every

touch reminded her of his betrayal?

“Or agree to a hand-fast. If after the year, you still do not wish to wed

him, you may be released from the contract with no shame to bear.” He

placed a large hand on her shoulder. “‘Twill secure your child’s place within

our clan.”

Mary’s throat ached with the need to vent her grief.

Collin broke into their conversation. “Do not listen to him, Daughter. He

is only interested in saving his son from the punishment he deserves.”

If only her own father had shown as much interest in her well-being as

Alexander’s had shown in his. She found Collin’s constant hounding

impossible to bear. He had done nothing, but taunt and tempt, threaten and

cajole, in the hopes she would testify against Alexander. If Collin’s

reasoning had been to seek justice for her, she may have been persuaded,

but she knew he had no such motives at heart.

“Leave me be, Collin,” she managed, in a voice she fought hard to

control. She ran down the stairs and across the great hall.

****

Mary. He did not trust her not to saddle her horse and flee once again. He

hurried to don his shirt and go after her. Heart pounding from the rush as he

bounded down the stone steps, he halted in surprise, for she had gone no

farther than the dock. The loch behind her traced her slender form with

purplish-blue as she stood atop one of the large slabs of rock that edged

the water. For a moment, he paused to admire the fragile beauty of her

profile before she turned her head. The autumn sun touched her hair with

streaks of light as the heavy braid fell from across her shoulder to hang

down her back, like a rope, to her waist.

He purposely scraped the soles of his boots on the rocks so she

would hear his approach.

“I would ask that you leave me.” Her voice husky with emotion, she

kept her face averted.

“I can not do that.” Careful to keep his distance so she would not feel

threatened, he remained just below her.

He dragged his gaze away from her and looked across the loch to the

gently rolling hills beyond, while he gave her time to compose herself.

Silence stretched between them fraught with such pent emotion the strain

settle in his neck and shoulders.

“How long have you been certes about the bairn?” He introduced a

subject to which he thought she might respond.

“For more than a month.”

“You have grown thin because of the sickness it has brought you.”

Concern for her plagued him. “Mayhap one of the women can suggest a

cure.”

Silence settled in again.

He kept his tone soft. “Why did you offer me the bairn, Mary? I know you

do not wish to be parted from him.”

“‘Tis better for him to be accepted into your clan than mine. He’ll have

the safety of a father to care for him, rather than a grandsire who will use

him or abuse him.”

“You know Collin well,” he said.

“Aye.” The huskiness of her tone tinted the word with pain.

Though she kept her head bent, he glimpsed her tear stained cheeks

and red nose. He eased closer, driven by a need to comfort her.

She fell silent for a moment then raised her gaze to the stone structure

behind him. “He will be a Campbell and he will never have to know what ‘tis

to have a foot in two clans, and never truly belong to either. He’ll know what

‘tis to owe his loyalty to only one and be accepted without question.”

Something in her expression brought a tightness to Alexander’s chest.

“I do not wish to raise my son or daughter alone. A bairn needs its mother.”

She remained silent.

Grasping her chin with his fingertips, he turned up her face. “Will you

allow your hate for me to deprive our child of your care and affection, as you

were deprived of your mother’s?”

Her blue gaze traced his features with a pain that weighted the pit of

his stomach with stones of guilt. “I did not wish to hate you, Alexander. I

wanted very much to care for you because you were to be my husband.”

The knowledge that she had meant to accept him, struck him with the

force of a battle-ax and he drew a deep breath.

She raised her chin. “‘Twas a lifetime ago when I was innocent

enough to trust you. ‘Twill not happen again.”

He bit back a curse. “If ‘tis any satisfaction to you, your father’s revenge

was most effective. ‘Twas difficult for me to sit, stand, eat, or ride a horse for

some days.”

“I find no satisfaction in that, Alexander. You are able to walk about

your clan, or any other, with your honor whole. Your wounds have healed;

mine shall go on for a lifetime.” She stalked away from him, the tail of her

shawl whipping back and forth behind her.

He watched the sway of her hips. If he could keep her talking and

allow her to punish him a bit, mayhap, it would draw some of the poison

from the wound.

He caught up to her and matched his long strides to her shorter ones.

“Did I not make it plain how much I wanted you, Mary?”

“Aye, just as you made it plain that night you were there to destroy my

honor in any way you could.” Her voice shook with emotion.

He flinched from the memory her words conjured and reached for her

hand in an attempt to comfort her.

She jerked away, her expression defiant. She folded her arms before

her in such a way it prevented him from holding her hand again.

In that moment, she reminded him of the wild birds sometimes caught

and caged for pleasure. Some could be tamed, but it took great patience

and gentleness. Others beat themselves against the bars until they died, no

matter how patient or gentle their master. She would continue to fight

against him as long as she felt trapped.

“For ten long years I have known little else but fighting, killing, and

bloodshed,” he said as he followed the path that she traversed close to the

water. “First ‘twas the feuds between our clan and others, then ‘twas the

English, then more feuding between those who lust for power and those

who have it. ‘Twas by spilling the blood of others, that I earned my lands.

When The Bruce gave them to me, I thought, at last, I would have something

that represented what was good in life to be proud of and to share with the

clansmen who have fought at my side.”

Folding his hands behind him, he focused his attention on the green

rolling hills across the loch and the narrow gullies meandering through

them. A breeze holding an autumn chill ruffled the surface of the water,

making it glitter in the midday sun.

“You have been a part of that for these two years past, though you were

not even aware of it.” His gaze swung to her face. “For the first time I allowed

myself to think of peace and a wife and children.”

Her clear, blue eyes, surrounded by light brown lashes tipped with

gold, looked as deep and unfathomable as the loch. The full shape of her

lips begged to be traced by a lover’s tongue. He caressed the fragile curve

of her cheek and jaw with his fingertips, delighting in the softness of her

skin.

She stepped back breaking the contact. “You will have your child, your

lands, and your clan. Your dream will be fulfilled.”

“I want a wife as well.” His gaze settled on her so she would know he

spoke the truth. “Does the bairn not deserve a father to offer him protection,

and a mother to offer him care? Must you punish the child for the sins of his

father?”

“Do you wish to wed a lass who can not bear your touch?”

Alexander sucked in a pained breath, her words cutting deep.

David’s voice came from atop the battlements. “Father awaits your

return, Alexander.”

He scowled, resentful of the interruption.

“The council has arrived to meet with you and Mary.”

****

of warriors dressed as they were in the full regalia of their stations, their

swords at their sides. Gray streaked through their hair and beards, and their

faces held the worn lines of time and experience. Their fur-lined cloaks

each bore the crest of their clan, three Campbell and three MacLachlan.

Mary found such an awe-inspiring company more than a little

frightening. Her eyes sought Alexander’s face, but his attention remained

fastened on the men as he inclined his head to each.

She focused on the priest who stood beside her father. Father Patrick,

his black shrouded figure tall and thin, inclined his head in greeting to her.

With his beak-like nose and long neck, he had the look of a large black bird.

She studied his expression trying to delve beneath the surface of his

features. Would he be ally or enemy in these proceedings?

“In deference to my daughter, I have asked this council of arbitration to

meet in private,” Collin said.

Rising, his expression grave, John announced, “We will retire to my

antechamber.” The men rose in force to do as he ordered.

“That will not be necessary, Lord Campbell,” she said in a voice she

hoped sounded calm though she found herself trembling. “I would ask you

to stop these proceedings now. I have not asked for such an intervention

between your son and me.”

“As Chief of the MacLachlan clan, I can not knowingly ignore a wrong

to one of our own, Mary,” Collin challenged, before John could speak.

“‘This is a private matter between Alexander and me, no one else.”

She squared her shoulders in determination. She would not have her

shame paraded before this clan as it had been before her own and the

MacMillans.

“It ceased to be private when you fled from your home to seek refuge

from him,” Collin said, his features taut. “‘Tis my duty to see justice done,

Mary.”

She folded her arms before her. “‘Tis my right to seek justice if I see fit.

Not yours.” She fought the urge to scream at him that his quest for power

and property would shame her just as much as Alexander’s actions if he

continued.

“‘Tis my right being your father and your Laird, lass.”

She shook her head. “I will not speak agin him, to you or anyone else.”

“If you will not speak, then I will be forced to bring forth witnesses who