Knight of the Highlander (2 page)

He had never singled out any of the lasses in the clan for courting or even a dalliance as far as she knew, and it would be news had he. After all, there weren't many men who could compare with the blacksmith's charm or handsome face. She was thankful his attentions weren't easily bought or given. If so, the man she had built up in her heart and mind would cease to exist, and she needed to have hope that not all men were like her father.

Although she had no claim on Colin, her heart pinched at the thought of him belonging to someone else. Being the only heir to the Chattan chief, she held no fanciful thoughts of love. The character of her father was a clear reminder of what her future held. If he suspected her attraction to the clan blacksmith, he would marry her off to an elderly council member simply to break her spirit even further. No, she had to protect her heart and the faint hope she kept burning ever so slightly within her. For that reason no one could ever know her quiet attraction, especially Colin.

****

As he forced himself to walk away from Arywnn, Colin felt the heat of her gaze searing his back. His muscles bunched as he physically forced himself on, and not surrender to the intense desire to turn around, gather her into his arms, and kiss her tempting lips. No, he couldn't even spare a final glace back as he heard her lead the horse outside. There could be no breach in his self-control. Not now. Not ever.

With a deep breath, Colin relaxed knowing she was safely away from him and his impulsive passion. With determined steps he went to the heat of the forge, its warmth on his flesh eased the burn in his heart for Arywnn, distracting him. Reaching into the fire, he pulled out the end of the metal rod and began to hammer it into the shape of a horse's hoof.

Relentlessly, he pounded the hot metal with his hammer as sweat poured off his face and sizzled on the hot ash in front of him. With each powerful hit of his hammer he felt a little better, more in control of himself. The forge had been his salvation during the four years the fire within him, ignited by Arywnn, had blazed.

"If ye pound it much thinner, ye won't have much of anything left ya ken," Gareth spoke with a chuckle as he entered the forge. His thinning hair stood at odd angles, but his eyes were kind and honest.

The older man had befriended Colin shortly after his arrival to Clan Chattan. Gareth's mother was from the McMurray clan, the very same clan Colin had claimed as his own. The older man had immediately latched himself onto Colin because of their shared heritage. Thankfully, the man didn't many ask probing questions, and the few he did were easily answered with a little imagination and research.

"Ah, my friend. How are you on this bleak morn'?" Colin asked as he turned from the fire and wiped the sweat off his brow with a rag.

"Fairin' fine, although I doubt you can say the same. What's gotten into you my lad?" Gareth asked with a concerned expression.

"Ah, just a stubborn piece," Colin lied. Though he hated it, he had no choice if he were to survive in a castle full of deception and traitors. Yet he regretted each falsehood, especially when told to the men of integrity, men such as Gareth.

"Ah, well remind me tae never go against ye, Colin. I'd hate tae take the beating that horseshoe did," Gareth teased with a cautionary light to his eyes as he watched Colin place the hot iron back into the fire.

"Was there something I could do tae help ye?" Colin asked, his back still turned to Gareth.

"No, not today. Just visitin'." Gareth was silent for a few moments. He stroked his reddish-grey beard as if deep in thought. "The Laird called the council together last week, and tonight at the assembly he'll reveal what's been goin' on 'bout these hills. Make's me anxious. Tae much unrest recently." He spoke hesitantly as he gazed at the forge ceiling studying the rough-hewn beams.

"Thought I'd heard something of the like," Colin remarked, prodding gently for additional information.

"Ah well, it seems…" Gareth paused, clearly testing his words before he spoke them. "It seems odd with all the rumors we've been hearin'. Did you hear 'bout the Campbells?" Gareth asked, his voice dropping to a gravely whisper.

Of course Colin had heard about the rumors. The Campbells were allowing their Chieftan's daughter to marry an English nobleman, sealing their alliance with the English, an allegiance that many Scots refused to allow.

The Campbells were long supporters of the Coventers aligning themselves with English rule more readily than others. Colin saw the wisdom in their match effectively relieving any pressure the Campbell Laird might have had from the crown, but at the same time they made enemies of their neighbors, ones who were far closer than their English allies.

"Och, aye., I remember hearing something about an English Oaf seekin' the hand of one of our highland daughters," Colin remarked as he leaned back against a beam, folding his chiseled arms across his considerable chest.

"Seems strange, that the Laird would be so disturbed by it. They've always done things differently." Gareth rubbed his grizzled chin with his thick hand, a distant expression clouding his green eyes. He shook his head and glanced back to Colin. "But I'm sure we'll find out more tonight at the meetin'."

"Aye, t'would seem so. What affects the Laird affects the clan." Colin nodded at his shrewd yet ambiguous statement.

"I'll be seein' ye." Gareth slapped Colin's back and cast a dubious glance at the almost shattered metal glowing hot in the fire. He opened his mouth to speak, and then seemed to think twice about it, shaking his head.

"Aye," Colin mumbled, watching the older man's retreating form.

Gareth's friendship had been valuable these past four years. As a member of the council, he had often disclosed information that proved helpful. Though Colin was usually able to secret himself into an area to hear the confidential meetings, at times he would be unable to, thus Gareth's insight was precious. At the clan meetings where the council would confer and speak with the clan, Colin always stood to the back, keeping his face unreadable. He used his position to watch the faces of the members of Clan Chattan, and to study their responses. The job of a spy required him to look for the less subtle clues as to where the truth might lie.

He turned once again to the simmering fire and picked up a new iron. This one he wouldn't beat to a shattered pulp, he hoped. As long as he focused on anything but Arywnn.

The sweet serenity of her earlier ride was lost as Arywnn entered the dark room filled with clansmen bustling about in the torchlight. Tables were filled with bannocks and ale with the heady smell of roasting venison coming from the kitchens. Loud banter from a few guardsmen captured her attention, and she glanced quickly at them in annoyance. As they noticed her attention they leered over her body, and she resisted the urge to give them a tongue-lashing. Rather than invite them for a fight she chose to ignore them and move on, though as she moved she felt their hot stares follow her. Disgusted and slightly fearful she walked to a table and sat down.

"They're still starin' ya know," came a low whisper next to her.

Arywnn turned to meet the wary gaze of Annie, a serving maid from the kitchen. Annie's long golden hair had often been the recipient of many a man's gaze. But not tonight. Tonight all male eyes were focused on Arywnn, either in blatant interest or with a stealthy sidelong glance.

"Of course they are. They haven't got the sense of one horse in the lot of 'em," Arywnn muttered back, although it did seem odd. Oh, she was accustomed to men trying to gain her attention. After all, her husband would most likely become clan chief, especially with her father so reluctant to name his Tanist. But, for that same reason her father had refused each suit. He was a suspicious one, and didn't want any young upstart of a son-in-law getting any ideas to take away any of his power. So far, that very fear had worked in Arywnn's favor, but tonight seemed different. The stares were not as covert but more evaluating, calculating, and less hesitant. A dark foreboding cinched her heart, yet she refused to glance up and give away her suspicions and fear.

"What are ye thinking?" Annie asked with a concerned furrow to her brow.

"I don't know Annie. Something's… different," she confided, meeting her friend's green gaze.

"What do ye mean? Don't let those oafs bother you none, they're just deep in their ale's all," Annie reassured and offered a gentle smile.

"Oh, that I'm sure of," Arywnn admitted with a roll of her eyes. "But something else seems different, 'tis in the air Annie." As she spoke the words she glanced about and noticed another group of men staring at her and speaking in low tones to one another. Her skin prickled in gooseflesh.

"Well, whatever it 'tis, I'm here Arywnn. Not to fear," Annie offered with a reassuring pat.

As Arywnn tried to return her smile, feigning the confidence she didn't feel, she noticed Colin enter the room. He walked over to a table and sat with Gareth. For a moment he held her gaze. Though he was far away, his black-blue regard caused her heart to pick up its cadence. He nodded politely before turning to the man beside him.

"Och, he's a braw one," Annie spoke as she followed her friend's gaze.

"Indeed he is," Arywnn agreed not wanting to take her eyes from his form, but knowing she must, lest her emotions be suspected.

Silence descended over the room as her father entered. Draped in his clan tartan of bright red accented by green and yellow, he dominated the room with his tall, broad stature and piercing gaze as he shrewdly took in each attendee.

"Clan's men!" he spoke in his deep bass voice that vibrated off the stone walls of the keep. "Tonight I have an announcement tae make!" With a long pause he walked further into the room till he was surrounded and in the very middle. "At this crucial point in our clan's history, we must separate ourselves and make a name greater than that of the past. However, we are faced with an enemy." He yelled the last word raising his fist. "An enemy so cowardly that he refuses tae show his face, or fight like a man!" he bellowed, earning an echoing shout from the men. "He hides, betraying those who give him shelter, bread, and warmth, taking advantage of the highland hospitality we all honor!" He paused as the crowd shouted. "And we must find this enemy if we are tae conquer! If we are tae make our name greater than that o' our ancestors!"

At his words there was a cheer so loud Arywnn wanted to cover her ears against the noise.

"This traitor is sending information tae the English, and we cannot continue with our calling, our mission for freedom, till he is captured and brought tae justice!" He shot his fist into the air, and seemed to bask in the cheer that erupted from the room as men began to stand and pound their ale tankards on the wooden tables. He raised his hands to calm the noise, and waited till the room was silent for his coming words. "To the man who discovers this traitor I offer the highest prize." He waited, searching over the men, and allowing his words to soak into their minds and build anticipation. Arywnn's curiosity was burning as well. What would her father offer?

"Tae the man who finds the traitor I offer the hand of my daughter, Arywnn Chattan, and with her hand comes the succession of clan chief on my passing!" At his words the crown erupted in a thunderous cheer, but Arywnn didn't hear the roar, all she heard was her father's echoing words naming her the prize.

Every male eye appraised her openly. Humiliation and anger welled within her till she felt she might burst into flames. Women sneered in her direction, yet some cast pitying looks as well. Her father soon spoke, calling the attention back to himself.

The rest of the meeting passed in a haze as Arywnn counted down the moments til she could flee to her room. Once alone, the tears of humiliation broke through. Though she knew that her husband would be chosen of her father's will, she had foolishly hoped he would at least consider her in the slightest, not offer her up as a sacrificial prize. Yet her own mind condemned her hopes. Never once had her father considered her more than a means to an end.

She used the woolen plaid to wipe her eyes and sat on her bed, attempting to calm her stuttered breathing. Blithering didn't help and her mind searched for a way out, a way that led to hope rather than despair. A thought began to form, and soon all that remained of her tears were the dry salty trails and a steely determination.

****

"Da," Arywnn called as she walked into the empty council room. Without looking up, her father grunted an acknowledgment of her presence.

"What if I were tae find the traitor?" she asked without hesitation, hoping a direct approach would be to her favor. If she caught him off guard perhaps he would agree more easily or so she hoped.

"You?" He continued to look over the missives spread across the table and didn't even glance up.

"Aye." She held her breath while waiting for her father's response. If he refused her fate was certainly sealed. Declining to cower or plead she waited, shoulders back and a determined gaze on her father's balding head.

"The charms of women have uncovered a great many secrets. " He mumbled to himself as he moved another missive into different pile and lifted another to read its contents.

"What are ye askin' fer if ye do find the villain?" he asked as he leaned back and folded his hands across his wide chest.