Highlands Forever (Books 1–3)

by Rand, Violetta

  Aye, the occasional smack when one of her brothers misbehaved when they were younger. However, she had been the victim of her father’s intimidating, booming voice barking orders at servants or even herself. No one defied him. No one refused him. And if they did… She swallowed hard. They simply disappeared.

  Now that her mistress was ready to go belowstairs, Miran helped Helen into her heavy cloak, then secured her boots on her feet.

  Laird Alex stood the moment she entered the great hall, as did every other man in attendance. Helen curtsied, greeting the men and women around her.

  “I trust ye are well rested, lady Helen?” Alex asked.

  “Surprisingly so,” she said. “I am not sure what kind of magic protects this keep, Laird Alex, but it has enveloped me in it’s power. I have rarely found such peace.”

  The people around her chuckled.

  “Nay, magic,” Alex assured her. “Happiness.”

  Helen curtsied again. “Yer children are the bonniest I have ever seen.”

  The throng cheered at her words.

  “Thank ye, Lady Helen. Keely asked me to tell ye, she’s with ye in spirit today.”

  “I would like to visit her later, if I may.”

  “I see no reason why ye canna. Now, let us lead my people to the bailey. Tis cold and dark, and I am sure Duncan Munroe is ready to receive the lash and make his way home.”

  Alex stepped down from the dais, approached Helen, and offered his arm. She took it, resting her fingertips lightly on his hand, happy to be escorted by such an honorable leader. The crowd spilled into the bailey, surrounding a raised stage. Many people—men, women, and children—had already gathered, jeering at Duncan.

  Liars and thieves were unwelcome on MacKay lands. They’d sooner offer sanctuary to the devil.

  Laird Alex and Helen, surrounded by his personal guards, made their way to the front of the throng, only feet away from the platform. Duncan was bare-chested, his hands tied above his head to a thick, wood pole. As soon as he saw Helen, he growled and spit.

  “Ye worthless bitch,” he yelled, struggling against the tight bonds. “My humiliation will be yer undoing. My pain, yer pain.”

  His words were soon cut off by a hooded man who shoved a wad of cloth in Duncan’s filthy mouth, silencing the wretch.

  Helen shivered, but not because of the cold. She dinna like Duncan Munroe. In fact, she feared him. The way he stared at her, the things he said, even in her sire’s presence. Twas like he was undressing her with his dark eyes—fantasizing about bedding her. Though he had been sent to secure a marriage contract for his uncle.

  “Whatever ye are thinking,” Alex said softly, patting her hand, “put it out of yer mind. This man willna get near ye again. I swear it on everything holy.”

  She nodded in appreciation. But even a capable man like Laird Alex MacKay couldna assure her complete safety, not against someone as powerful as her father and as evil as Laird Munroe. Together, they not only outnumbered the MacKays, they were not limited to what they would do by honor or God.

  “Duncan Munroe,” Alex began, raising his hands to quiet the onlookers. “Ye are guilty of lying, bearing false witness against Lady Helen Sutherland, a friend and guest of Clan MacKay. I believe the king would agree with the punishment I have chosen. Spare the rod, spoil the child—wisdom imparted from the Almighty. And since ye have acted like a spoiled lad, I feel it necessary to teach ye a lesson yer uncle has failed miserably at teaching ye himself.”

  Alex signaled the hooded man standing on the stage behind Duncan. The faceless stranger nodded, yanked the cloth from Duncan’s mouth, dropped it on the ground, then positioned himself, a thick board in his hand. Before Alex could protest, the paddle hit Duncan’s arse with such force, a loud crack sounded.

  Helen cringed, and so did everyone around her, save Alex, who frowned. But he remained silent as the hooded man delivered twenty more blows.

  If Helen knew anything, the promised punishment had been lashes, not a beating with a paddle. She stared at Alex with surprise.

  He shook his head and muttered, “I told him to go home.”

  That could only mean one thing. Her heart aflutter, Helen scrutinized the hooded man. She sized him up. Aye, his build and height matched Jamie’s. There were two narrow slits in the black hood so he could see, but she couldna make out the color of his eyes.

  As if the man knew she was staring at him, he gazed in her direction for a long moment.

  The crowd enthusiastically chanted. “More. More. More.”

  But Duncan had suffered enough, he could barely hold himself up.

  “Release the prisoner,” Alex commanded.

  Two guards freed his hands, and Duncan sank to his knees, a look of pain etched his face.

  “Do ye have any words for me, or the victim of yer deceptive tongue?” Alex asked.

  Duncan raised his head, staring at Alex. “H-how,” he stuttered. “How am I to ride a horse now?”

  The question earned him the loudest laughter Helen had ever heard. He’d been disciplined like a wayward child, not a man. And there were hundreds of witnesses. People who would never let him forget. Helen was sure word would spread quickly throughout the Highlands that the heir to Clan Munroe’s lairdship had suffered the worst humiliation at the hands of Clan MacKay. And in Alba, that kind of transgression wouldna go unpunished, even if it took generations to avenge.

  Chapter Twelve

  Satisfaction overtook Jamie like a haboob in the desert. He watched as the crowd dispersed, focusing on the lovely Lady Helen, wishing he could reveal himself to her. He’d once again disobeyed his laird and cousin. Not that he’d intended to at first. Just as Alex had commanded, he left the MacKay keep with both of his personal guards and Kuresh, his best friend and advisor, to ride north to his home. Already drunk and cold, he decided to drink more ale from his wineskin. Unable to stay atop his horse comfortably afterward, he ordered his men to make camp.

  Before the white winter sun peeked over the horizon, he awoke with a solid plan in his head. Why should anyone else get the privilege of whipping that son-of-a-bastard Munroe? Jamie hungered to continue the beating he’d only started to give Duncan last eve. Jamie knew the risks of insubordination. He was a soldier above all things, raised to follow orders from his superiors and laird. And until now, he’d never broken trust.

  But Duncan’s hawkish face and obscene behavior haunted him. Something needed to be done to bring that overconfident blaffard to heel. Kuresh begged him to reconsider. Jamie dismissed his friend’s concern, even excused his guards from riding back to the MacKay keep with him. Of course, Kuresh wouldna leave his side.

  Once he arrived, it took little to convince the soldier tasked with whipping Duncan to let Jamie secretly take his place. Though Alex had won the loyalty of all MacKays, the soldiers still trusted and followed Jamie. He’d been their leader for so long, especially while Laird John still lived, before Alex returned to the Highlands to pick up the pieces of the nearly broken clan.

  If it hadn’t been for Jamie…

  “What is it ye want?” Alex growled behind him.

  “Milord.” Jamie bowed, hoping to keep his identity concealed from the onlookers.

  “Shall I command ye to remove the executioner’s hood?”

  Jamie shook his head. “And break a centuries’ old tradition? The punisher canna be condemned, for he is the hand of the laird, acting on holy orders to bring sinners to justice.”

  Alex scoffed. “Ye are as guilty as the sinner ye punished.”

  Jamie smiled to himself. Deep inside he intended for Alex to know it was him, but neither would admit it openly.

  “Lady Helen recognized ye. And I am sure Duncan Munroe knows.”

  Jamie swelled with pride as he opened and closed his hands, imagining them wrapped around Duncan’s throat. “Did ye enjoy it, milord?”

  “Perhaps,” Alex admitted. “But I doona like being ignored. My orders defied.”

  “Duncan Mun
roe has no honor. He deserved what he received.”

  They both watched as two guards dragged Duncan from the platform.

  “And ye set a bad example for my men who rely on yer ability to show them what being a good soldier means. It requires unshakeable loyalty.”

  “For that I am sorry.”

  “Are ye?”

  “I canna explain right now,” Jamie said, keeping Helen and her maid in his line of vision. Something about the lady rendered him defenseless, made him incapable of thinking of anything else but keeping her safe and close to him.

  “Laird Munroe is a formidable man.”

  “Aye.”

  “Remove the Earl of Sutherland from our immediate situation and consider what rights Laird Munroe has to defend his honor and that of the woman he intends to marry.”

  “She dinna sign that betrothal contract.”

  “Nay. But weigh the law against tradition. What man wins?”

  “The one with the biggest sword!”

  Alex folded his arms over his chest, staring at Jamie as if he dinna know him. “And what does that mean exactly?”

  “I leave it to ye to decipher. And now, with yer permission, I wish to speak with the lady, alone.”

  Alex considered him. “We grew up together,” he spoke so only Jamie could hear him. “Ye are a first son, as was John. Everyone knew ye or John would follow in my sire’s footsteps to lead this clan. I never considered it a possibility. Never.”

  “Aye, I know.”

  “Even now, standing here, looking upon everything I am blessed with—my wife and children, this keep, lands, and all of these beloved people, our kinsmen… Why me? I chose ye to become laird, and half the council agreed.”

  No one remained on the stage but Jamie and Alex, so he dinna fear answering honestly. “I am not the man to lead the MacKays. Look at what a selfish arse I’ve turned out to be. Since my return from Constantinople, I havena been the same. Ever since that witch told me…” Something hard and heavy hit Jamie in the gut and he struggled to take his next breath.

  “What is it?” Alex placed his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “Ye are pale.”

  “Jesus,” Jamie said in a strained voice. “I forced myself to forget. I dinna want to believe her prophetic words, because I felt it a sin to listen to a soothsayer.”

  “What witch?” Alex asked. “Doesna every clan keep such a woman close?”

  “Only if she kneels before the cross.”

  “Forget what god she serves. What did she tell ye?”

  Jamie struggled with the memory. He’d locked it away for a reason. He dinna believe he’d ever find the right woman, one that would love him unconditionally, faithfully, passionately… But her name. Helen’s sweet name matched the prophecy of the witch.

  “I took a lover in Constantinople.”

  Alex shrugged. “I had six.”

  Jamie gave his cousin a shove. “Tis nay a pissing match.”

  Alex smiled. “I wished to show my support and understanding for ye.”

  His cousin’s toothy grin brought a smile to his own face. “Hana and I parted on good terms. I gave her a house and enough money to never have to share another man’s bed out of wedlock.”

  “Ye honored her the way any Highlander would. I am proud of ye for that. Men in the east often disregard the importance of women outside of the bedchamber.”

  “Aye.”

  “But the witch, where did ye meet her?”

  “On my way to the ship the day I was leaving. She told me Hana had sent her as a parting gift.”

  “Then why are ye upset about it? Did she foresee yer death? Tell ye of bad things to come?”

  “Nay.” Jamie could almost hear her speak. “She told me I will be the father of a new land, a new people.”

  “What else did she say?”

  “That Hana prepared me for the woman I’m meant to love and protect. She also told me the woman’s name would remind me of Hana’s. But there’s more … she spoke of ye.”

  Alex’s eyebrows shot up. “And ye’ve kept it from me for two years?”

  “I dinna wish to speak of it with anyone. Only Kuresh knows.”

  “Past time for ye to share this message.”

  “She said half of Constantinople knew ye, that some missed ye, and others wanted ye to die a long and painful death. That once anyone spills blood on the desert sand, whether his own or another’s, ye become part of the land. Nothing can change it.”

  Alex put his hands behind his back and started pacing. “Keely has healed many of my old wounds and helped me forget.”

  “Forget what?”

  “All the suffering and death, the brutality that forces men to kill indiscriminately in the desert to stay alive.”

  “Do ye regret it?”

  “Sometimes I am plagued by nightmares about the men I slaughtered. I see their faces and hear them scream. God has forgiven me, for Father Michael absolved me of my sins after I married Keely.”

  “But ye havena forgiven yerself.”

  Alex looked uncertain. “It doesna matter, I can live with it. And what the witch said about the desert never letting a man go, we have a similar belief in the Highlands. We are all bound by blood, the blood in our veins or the blood we shed. Can ye forgive yerself, Cousin?”

  Why would Alex ask him such a question? Jamie had only killed four men during his stay in the east, fair fights to protect himself and his men. “My moral sense is clear. In all matters concerning the past and present,” he emphasized.

  “Then I envy ye, more than ye’ll ever know.”

  “Thank ye.”

  “Go,” Alex said, giving him permission to seek out Lady Helen. “Talk with her quietly. Doona draw unwanted attention.”

  As Jamie walked by the few people left near the platform, they offered him coins and praise for carrying out justice. Twas tradition to pay the executioner.

  Jamie tucked the coins in the pouch hanging off his weapon belt as he approached Helen.

  “Ye may go,” he ordered Miran.

  “Nay,” the maid said. “I am supposed…”

  “Doona make me say it again, Miran.”

  Understanding dawned on her pretty face as she dipped into an awkward curtsey and hurried off.

  “Lady Helen,” he said, still wearing the black hood, rather enjoying the game he played.

  She stared at him, especially his eyes. “I know ye, Master…”

  “Doona say my name.” He hushed her with a finger to her lips. “Come with me if ye wish to speak privately.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Helen followed Jamie out of the bailey and down the path that led to the loch. From the moment she had set eyes upon him, something about Jamie put her at ease. As if they were old friends reuniting after years apart. Could it be trust, something that she gave out very sparingly, for everyone at Dunrobin Castle spied for her father. She’d grown up learning not to believe anyone would keep her secrets. Her brothers were the first to betray that trust, telling her sire anything she said if it demonstrated any sort of independent thought.

  She lived under the constraints of strict rules. Deprived of her sweet-natured mother after she died, Helen’s sire kept the most ill-natured chaperones for his daughter. Ones that criticized her every move: women who constantly told her how and what to think and say.

  She took a breath of cold air, liking the way it felt deep in her lungs. As they continued walking in silence, she admired the winter scenery. Frost covered the leafless tree limbs and the fresh-fallen snow crunched under the weight of her leather boots. Thick clouds offered only glimpses of the pale sun and a steady wind forced her to raise the hood on her cloak. Aye, she adored the winter season. It reminded her of how she felt on the inside—a protective layer of ice around her heart, insulating the true nature of her soul—as well as the warmth and compassion that she rarely had a chance to share with anyone at home.

  But here at the MacKay keep…

  Jamie stopped in
front of the loch and gazed back at her. “Do ye think we are far enough away from the bailey for me to remove the hood?”

  She smiled at him. “I am sure anyone with half his wits could guess it was ye on the platform.”

  “Aye?” He took the hood off, tucking it under his heavy, wool tartan. He shook his hair out, the wild red shoulder-length lochs holding her attention like a thriving fire.

  The contrast between his hair color and blue eyes was startling.

  “How did ye know?” he asked.

  “Yer mannerisms and the way ye walk.”

  “Ye’re an observant lass.”

  “I’ve learned to pay attention to everything around me.”

  Jamie rubbed his chin. “Life at Dunrobin wasna easy.”

  She shook her head. “My life doesna matter, Master Jamie. Not when there are so many innocent people suffering in the Highlands. I have traveled some and seen what starvation and war do to people. Women and children without homes, begging for food and shelter.”

  “Did yer sire open his gates for them?”

  Ashamed of the truth, she turned away.

  But the handsome warrior moved closer, tipping her face up. “Doona hide anything from me, Lady Helen. I willna judge ye for the sins of yer father.”

  Their gazes held, and she saw the heat behind his eyes—the desire she’d seen that first night when they looked at each other in silence across the great hall. The heat of their mutual attraction was burning a hole in her soul. She dinna possess the same abilities as her brothers, cool liars that they were. Her feelings were obvious, whether happy or sad—no matter how hard she tried to conceal them—and she imagined passion would show even more.

  Miran had commented on how obvious her and Jamie’s attraction was—much to Helen’s disapproval, of course.