Much Ado About Highlanders (The Scottish Relic Trilogy) (21 page)

Magnus MacKay was the reason she’d run away on her wedding day. To succeed in discrediting him, to dash his elaborate plans and alliances, was to be her revenge.

Magnus glanced only once at Alexander, nodding his greeting before fixing his gaze again on her.

“Father, it wasn’t necessary for you to come.”

She knew a message had been sent to the MacKays about her pending arrival at Benmore. But she’d never thought he would come. When he wasn’t feuding with the Sutherland lairds, he loved to hunt at this time of year at a lodge in Altnaharra, at the southernmost edge of MacKay territory. He was here not to support her, but to remind the Macphersons of the terms of the marriage.

“And how are my brothers?”

“Giles and Ninian are fine strapping lads, growing an inch a day, it seems. You’ll not recognize them.”

“I think I will.”

“Perhaps. This is their first summer at Altnaharra, you know. Why, the pair of them even managed to kill a boar that was twice their weight together. The beast charged out of a thicket at them. The lads drove their lances clean through that tough old hide and right into the heart.”

Kenna saw the way light shone in his eyes at the mention of his sons. She’d killed her first boar with a lance at the age of thirteen after being thrown by her horse. It had been a near thing. Kill or be killed. Allister had been proud of her. All the men had been proud. But she’d begged them not to tell her father. She’d been foolish enough to think that he’d care enough to punish her for riding steeds far bigger than she could handle, never mind trailing after MacKay hunters.

“They wanted to come,” her father added. “They’ve missed you.”

And she’d missed them, too. Kenna loved the twins, and Giles and Ninian adored her. From the time they could crawl on their pudgy hands and knees, she’d been the target of their affection. The eight-year-olds’ bedchamber was her last and most difficult stop before fleeing Castle Varrich on her wedding day.

She and Alexander would make arrangements. She’d see her brothers. Right now, there was nothing else that she wanted to say to her father. A heavy silence fell over the company. Kenna wanted to order him to leave. To tell him that he wasn’t wanted. But for the sake of her husband, she wouldn’t make a scene.

“I’ve sent for your trunks to be brought down from Castle Varrich,” the MacKay said, breaking the stalemate. “They should arrive soon enough. But Lady Fiona has assured me you’ll not be wanting for anything before your things arrive.”

“That wasn’t necessary, either.”

He ignored her. “Now we need to proceed to Benmore Castle. There, I’ll present you to the laird. The Macphersons will ride ahead. You will ride beside me—”

“Nay,” she interrupted. “I’ll ride with my husband.”

Kenna didn’t have to look for Alexander. He was beside her, taking her hand.

“A fine idea, Kenna,” he said breezily. “In fact, how about if you and I ride ahead and beat the rest of this company to Benmore. You’re one of the best riders in the Highlands. So how about it? Shall we leave them in our dust?”

She looked into his laughing eyes and wished she’d told him already how much she loved him. He praised her in the face of denigration. He stood with her when she was alone. He buoyed her when she foundered. And he was here for her, protecting her from her father, and from herself.

“This is her first visit to Benmore Castle, Alexander,” Magnus MacKay said, the words chopped and icy. “As her father and as laird of—”

“Hold a moment, Magnus, if you would,” Colin broke in.

Another rider, this time coming after them from the west. In a moment, Kenna recognized the man.

It was James Macpherson, riding like the devil was on his tail.

With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord,

not with love.

He looked like James. He acted like James. He spoke to Kenna’s father like the politician the family always knew him to be.

But I’ll be damned if it
is
James, Alexander thought.

Something was definitely not right.

Alexander grasped his brother’s forearm once everyone was past the excitement of his sudden arrival. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He wouldn’t look Alexander in the face. “Let’s get along to Benmore.”

Colin joined them. The look the youngest brother exchanged with Alexander said that he too had noticed something was amiss.

“By the devil, James, they normally mistake you for a Highland steer, but right now you look like some whipped ginger cur.”

“One more word and I’ll show you whipped,” James retorted.

“Where are our men?” Alexander asked.

“At Oban. I wanted to catch up to you before you reached Benmore. Hell, I arranged your reunion with your bride—I should be part of the celebration.”

“A fine mount,” Alexander said, glancing down at the steed. “Borrowed from the MacDougalls?”

“And he came all this way with no sword and no dirk,” Colin added. “Naked as an infant.”

James’s hands tightened around the reins. The horse pawed the ground.

“Did you hear that Evers turned east?” James asked, trying to steer the topic. “The Grahams stopped him, but at the cost of good men and too much blood. Still, the lads turned him.”

“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—”

Lady Fiona reached out and took hold of Kenna’s chin, putting an end to her stammering. She gently raised her face, and Kenna looked into eyes that conveyed nothing but kindness and affection.

“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.