Highlander’s Wicked Desire (Wicked Highlanders Book 2)

by Fiona Faris

  Several of the women nodded their agreement and moved to sit at the table nearest the fireplace. Mrs. MacDonald instructed Isla tae bring out the parritch and then joined them at the table. James looked to William near the door. “Dinnae let anyone inside o’ the hall until we have finished our discussion, nae matter how long it takes.”

  “Aye, Me Laird,” William nodded, barked orders to the men guarding the door outside, then closed it and stood guard, barring the inside, as immovable as a mountain. James appreciated the seriousness and respect that his Keeper exhibited and gave him a nod of approval before joining the women at the table.

  “Me fellow clanswomen, I am goin’ tae tell ye a story and then I want ye tae tell me if it sounds familiar tae ye. When we are done, I trust that ye will nae repeat a word o’ what has been said here, by meself or any o’ ye, unless requested in future tae aid our clan’s survival. Upon this, can we all agree? Do I have yer solemn oath?”

  A chorus of, “Aye, Me Laird,” rippled along the table.

  “A little o’er a year ago, afore me faither’s death, there was a lass brought tae Knock Castle. She was introduced as me betrothed. Do ye recall this?” The women nodded. “The story I am about tae tell ye may frighten ye, and I beg yer pardon for it; but it must be told.” The women nodded again urging him to continue. James took a deep breath and told them the tale of his father’s attempted rape of Marra MacDonald, but left off the part about his father’s death. Recognition and sadness passed across the faces of the women around him. “Does this sound familiar tae any o’ ye?” Every woman around the table nodded their heads.

  One of the women spoke up, “Aye, Laird, the only difference bein’ that ye were nae there tae save us.” Tears streamed silently down the woman’s cheeks. She had not spoken out of bitterness, but out of longing for a reprieve that had never come.

  “Would ye be willin’ tae tell me what happened tae ye at the hands o’ me faither?”

  The woman nodded. “I was but a young kitchen maid at the time. Yer faither came in tae the hall as I was cleanin’ off the table. He came up behind me and with nae ceremony whatsoever, lifted up me skirts and plunged himself inside o’ me. I was an untouched virgin at the time and the laird ripped me open. I bled for a verra long time afterward. When he was done, he left me there with nary a word and went back tae his business. Cook found me crumpled upon the floor bleedin’ and took me away tae be cared for. I have ne’er told another soul about it ‘til this moment.”

  James looked into the shattered eyes of the woman before him and felt his blood boil at her words. Me faither should have died long afore he did and in much greater pain.

  One after the other, the women told their stories; each one as terrible as the one before it. James did not know what to say or do to ease their pain. In all reality, he doubted that there was anything that anyone could do; but he hoped that the knowledge of his father’s death had brought them some sense of vengeance. He suspected that when he shared with the women his father’s true cause of death, they would not judge him poorly for it; but he doubted that their sons, husbands, and fathers would feel the same unless they knew of the former laird’s misdeeds. He never imagined that his father would have managed to harm so many women with no one knowing about it. He could not believe how blind he and the other men of the clan had been.

  “If I needed ye tae tell yer stories tae yer families, would ye be able tae do it? If it came tae it, and I needed ye tae do so for the sake o’ the clan, could ye do it?”

  The women looked at him as if he had gone mad. “Why would we do such a thing?” one of them asked. They all looked as if they were about to run away.

  He found himself wishing that he could spare them all the pain of telling the truth. He wished he could send them all home right then and there, reassured in the knowledge that all they had revealed to him would remain secret; but he knew he could not. He contemplated the wisdom of such a decision, weighing the risk versus the possible solution of bringing the blackmail to an end. The information he had gained would be a weapon against their enemies; but it turned his stomach to use these women’s stories as a means of survival, even if it was to save them all from the horrors of warfare between the clans. With the threat of the English on their doorstep, they needed to be united more now than ever before.

  James met William’s eyes from across the room and took a deep breath. He had considered taking the blame for his father’s death, lying and saying that he had been the one to deliver the killing blow. But these women had been truthful with him and deserved nothing less than the truth from him. “What I am about to tell ye could bring about the end o’ our clan and that o’ two others.” The women looked up at him in earnest, their faces pale. “The night that me faither died was the night that he attempted tae rape Marra MacDonald. I helped her tae escape me faither and returned her tae her husband. Me faither gave chase and attempted tae kill us all. He and a small number o’ his men were killed in the ensuin’ battle. Marra’s husband had nae choice but tae kill me faither to save the woman he loved. I am now bein’ blackmailed o’er this act and the lie I told tae keep all o’ the clans involved safe from retribution.”

  The women stared at him in stunned silence. When they did finally say something, it was all at once. “The laird did nae fall tae his death as ye said? What happened tae the bodies o’ the men that were with him? Did nae one think tae ask about their absence? How have ye kept this a secret for so long? Why did ye nae tell the truth from the beginnin’?”

  James raised his hands as a signal to be silent. To his surprise, they immediately obeyed. “Ye need nae fear for the lives o’ the other men. The other men who were killed with me faither were hired mercenaries with nae ties tae our own people. Everyone assumed that after me faither died, they left o’ their own accord.”

  “Aye, they did at that,” Mrs. MacDonald confirmed. “A nasty bunch they were tae. I for one was glad tae see the back o’ them. I ken well why ye wouldnae tell the truth about such a thing. There are many among the clan who would seek vengeance for the death o’ the laird. They wouldnae give thought tae all that would be lost in the war tae come on either side. It would have started a feud that would have lasted for centuries, and we MacDonalds have suffered enough at the hands o’ the Campbells. It would be we women who would suffer the most. It would be our sons that would die, our bodies that would be violated at the hands o’ our enemies.”

  “Aye,” the women nodded at the cook’s words knowing all too well the cost of war.

  “Why do ye tell us this now and risk it all? Can ye nae simply silence the blackmailers? Explain tae them the truth o’ it?” one of the women asked.

  “They wouldnae believe him without proof, and what is the rape o’ a lass they dinnae ken tae the life o’ the laird that they do.” Mrs. MacDonald answered for him. James was glad to have her on his side.

  “That still does nae explain why ye are riskin’ it all now tae tell us this,” another woman pointed out.

  “The English are comin’ tae our shores and there is nae a thing I can do tae stop them. I shamed a nobleman for rapin’ one o’ our clanswomen, then killed another for attackin’ Elizabeth tae save her life. The men who came lookin’ for the shipwreck were monsters o’ the worst sort, and I couldnae in good conscience turn her o’er tae them tae be raped and tortured. Now the English are comin’, and I cannae have the clan divided o’er the secret o’ me faither’s death. The blackmailers have threatened tae reveal the truth now, and in so doin’, take me life. If we are divided then the English will win, sweepin’ across the island takin’ whomever and whatever they desire. If the clan is aware o’ me faither’s true nature, then they will be more likely tae see reason and perhaps we will be able tae stave off the English bastards.”

  “Who among us did the Sassenach man attack?” one of the women asked.

  “It was me,” Isla answered, stepping forward.

  “Isla, ye dinnae have tae,” James began knowing he
r pain was still fresh.

  “Aye, I do. We cannae be fightin’ amongst ourselves while that Irish bastard brings the English down upon our heads.

  The women’s faces were filled with alarm, they murmured amongst themselves for a moment, while Mrs. MacDonald studied James’ face carefully. Making a decision, she nodded, calling for silence. “O’ course we will do as is needed for the good o’ the clan, Me Laird.” James looked into her eyes and saw something flicker there as if she already had suspected something of the truth all along.

  “I thank ye for yer sacrifice, all o’ ye,” James met each pair of eyes in turn. Each woman nodded in response giving their consent. “For the good o’ the clan.”

  “We place our lives and our reputations in yer hands, Me Laird. Dinnae let us down. There is a risk tae all o’ us that we may be rejected by the clan and our families. If that happens, ye will be all we have left between us and the elements,” Mrs. MacDonald warned him.

  “The Clan MacDonald on the Isle o’ Jura has already agreed to take us in if the worst were tae happen. I have boats standin’ by.”

  “What will ye do now?” one of the younger women asked, her voice shaking in fear.

  James took a deep breath and stood. “Now, I will tell the truth.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  When the women had gone, with the promise to be of aid when the time came, James requested to speak with Mrs. MacDonald alone. The cook sat back down across from him at the table. “Tell me o’ yer son, Robbie.”

  “He is a good man; angry about many things, but good. He is nae at all as yer faither was. He keeps his thoughts tae himself about most things. He is quiet, a respectful and lovin’ son, strong.”

  “If I were tae be killed or deposed, is he the sort o’ man who could protect and guide the clan without bringin’ about its ruin or the ruin o’ others for the sake o’ misguided retribution?”

  “Och, I dinnae wish tae hear any such talk. Ye will be well. All will be well. Ye will find a way tae save us all.”

  “Mrs. MacDonald, I need ye tae answer the question as best ye can.”

  “I dinnae ken the answer, Me Laird. Any maither would hope that her son could lead his people if needed; but a man filled with anger and uncertainty for his own blood, his own life, is nae a man who can lead others. Nae until he has accepted who he is and how he came tae be.”

  “I thank ye for yer honesty.” James reached out and took her hand in comforting reassurance. “When this is all o’er, I would like tae ken yer son better. I am sorry for all o’ the pain me faither’s actions have caused, and the pain that is tae come in revealin’ what was done tae ye. Ye are a good and strong woman, Mary. Any man would be proud tae have ye as their maither.”

  “What will ye do?”

  “I will call the clan tae gather in the great hall and tell them all at once. I regret tae have asked ye all tae do this, but I will need ye and the other lasses tae stand with me. I ken nae other way, or I wouldnae ask it o’ ye.”

  “Ye have protected us as long as ye could, whether ye kenned it or nae. ‘Tis time that the truth was told. It will nae be a surprise tae Robbie. For that I can be grateful.”

  “Will ye speak with him about it afore I call the gatherin’?”

  “Nae,” she shook her head. “I wouldnae want tae risk it bein’ shared with anyone else afore ‘tis time.”

  “When this is o’er, I owe ye a string o’ pearls.”

  Mrs. MacDonald chuckled, shaking her head. “Och, nae. What would I do with somethin’ as useless as that? Now new knives for the kitchen would be greatly appreciated. I have sharpened the ones we have down tae nothin’.”

  James smiled at the jest. “Ye shall have them.”

  “Good.” Mrs. MacDonald nodded her head in a no-nonsense manner, then arose, and walked back to the kitchen.

  James sat staring after her for a moment, wondering at how he had not known how strong and powerful the women of his clan were. He and the rest of the men had spent their lives underestimating the women in their presence. He swore that if they made it through the coming days, he would never do so again. Women such as Elizabeth, Mary, Isla, and the others deserved to be admired for their strength, protected from further harm, and respected for their fortitude. It would be these women, not he, who saved the clan. He thought of Mary’s words about her son not being ready for leadership and frowned in concern. He motioned for William to join him at the table.

  William crossed the room and sat down in front of him. “If yer faither were nae already dead, I would kill him.”

  “Aye, as would I,” James nodded in agreement.

  “I ne’er kenned it tae be so ‘til this day. The things those lasses suffered…” William shook his head in disgust at the former laird’s actions. “Those are nae the actions o’ an honorable man. I ne’er cared for the laird; but I wouldnae have thought even him capable o’ such things.”

  “Nae.” James rubbed his hands over his face and growled in frustration. “There is nothin’ that I can say or do tae take their pain away. Instead, I will be makin’ their pain worse by revealin’ it tae the entire clan.”

  “Ye have nae choice.”

  “Aye, but it does nae change the guilt I feel for it.”

  “Nae, it wouldnae be a small thing for an honorable man tae do. Yer faither’s blood may flow through yer veins, but ye are nae anythin’ like him. Ye are yer maither’s son, with all o’ her good qualities and none o’ his bad.”

  “How she managed tae live with such a man… Do ye believe that she kenned what me faither was doin’ all o’ those years?”

  “Nae, I dinnae. I believe she would have killed him herself had she kenned it. Theirs was an arranged marriage, nae one o’ affection and certainly nae love. Ye were her truest love.”

  James studied William’s face. “Ye cared for me maither deeply,” he noted. “The lass ye spoke o’ afore, the one that died whom ye loved, was it her?”

  William looked up at James in surprise and then acceptance. “Aye, it was her.”

  “Did ye e’er…”

  “Nae, we ne’er did.”

  James nodded. “I am sorry, me friend.”

  “’Tis in the past, and there is nae tae be done for it now. Isla is me future, and I am grateful for it.”

  “I am happy for ye both tae have found each other, e’en if ‘tis in the midst o’ such pain and uncertainty.”

  “Aye, and I am happy for ye as well.”

  James smiled ever so slightly at the thought of Elizabeth. Even in the midst of all that threatened to befall them, the mere thought of her brought light to his weary soul. “Aye. Let us hope that there is a future for her tae return tae.”

  “Let us make it so.”

  “Call for the clan tae gather in the hall. I will address them this eve.”

  “And may God be with ye, me friend.”

  “And with ye.”

  William departed to do as bidden. James called for the castle steward and instructed him to prepare for the large number of people that would be gathering in the keep for the evening. The steward looked at him, surprised he would order another gathering so soon after the first, but he said nothing and immediately obeyed. James moved to stand upon the dais at the far end of the hall and surveyed the room he had spent nearly every day of his life eating, drinking, mourning, rejoicing, and living in. Come the evening, he thought, I might very well die in it.

  He remembered the night that Elizabeth had walked through those doors in his mother’s blue dress. She had been stunningly beautiful. His thoughts flashed to her running out into the sea and him chasing after her. He remembered the feel of her in his arms as he had carried her back into the castle. His arms ached for the feel of her now and his body yearned to be inside her one last time before what remained of their world shattered all around them. He prayed that she would be kept safe on the Isle of Jura by Ian MacDonald’s people and that no one from her past would ever find her. He hoped that if he wa
s to die, whether at the hands of his own people or at the hands of the English, that she would find a way to make a happy life for herself without him.

  He remembered his mother sitting in front of the fire sewing while she hummed softly. He remembered his father training him to fight with wooden swords. He closed his eyes in pain at the memory as every memory that held his father was now tainted. Opening his eyes, he sighed and moved to prepare for the evening’s task. If he was to die, there were things that needed to be tended to. He met William returning from sending men out among the people to call for the gathering.

  “I sent word tae Donald MacDonald as ye requested, tae arrive afore the gatherin’.”