Highland Yuletide Magic (The Band of Cousins Book 9)

by Keira Montclair

  She didn’t need to worry as there were no reivers in the area and, to her disappointment, no sacks of food hidden in the trees.

  Returning to her favorite apple trees, she prayed to find a few new ones on the ground, but it wasn’t to be. She was about to continue her search elsewhere when the sight of one apple on the ground a short distance away caught her, freezing her feet to the ground.

  She’d get it for Juel.

  The sound of horses’ hooves carried across the glen to her, and she tipped her head, trying to gauge the distance. Not having much time to consider her choice, she shot off toward the apple and grabbed it, thrusting it into her pocket just as four horses came barreling straight toward her, the men shouting and laughing at the sight of her.

  “There’s one of them that ran away. She’ll lead us to the others, for certes.”

  She spun on her heel and took off into the trees, hoping they wouldn’t be able to follow on their mounts. Curses echoed through the forest behind her and she smiled, pleased to have outsmarted the bastards.

  Running as fast as she could, her breath coming out in puffs of fog in front of her, she continued, knowing she was just a short distance from the cave.

  Just a wee bit closer and she’d be safe.

  She only broke cover when she reached the small glen she had to cross to get to the cave.

  That’s when they got her. A horse crashed through the brush, the rider’s face dancing with glee as he reached down for her, grasping her arm and yanking it so hard it felt like it would wrench off.

  “You see. I told you they were right. She’ll lead us to the rest of the lads and lasses so we can get coin for them. They had to be here somewhere.”

  She screamed as loud as she could, hoping someone would hear her, although she prayed it would not be Jamesina. Her friend was worried enough. The man tossed her across his horse face down. She struck out with her hand, her fingernails catching and clawing the man’s cheek. He bellowed and punched her in the face, her head jerking back and hitting the horse’s flesh.

  That movement upset the beast, who did his best to buck the two of them off its back. She nearly tumbled to the ground, but a hand snaked out to keep her on the horse.

  She screamed again, as loudly as she could. Two people rode up, and for a moment, her heart thrummed with hope, but apparently, they were her kidnappers’ friends. They chortled and guffawed with him, enjoying her situation.

  “That will be a mighty good dessert for us this night,” one of the newcomers said. “We can settle soon, have a taste of her. I claim her first. She can lead us to the others on the morrow. I knew if we were patient, we’d find the ones they lost.”

  The man holding her on the horse said, “The hell you will. She’s mine and I’ll have her for the entire night before I share her with any of you.”

  A fright unlike she’d felt since the time she’d watched her parents killed settled inside her.

  She’d stick a blade into the neck of any man who tried to touch her.

  But first, she had to get away.

  Chapter Nine

  Moray said to his men, “One more time. They could be anywhere. Search in places you’ve not searched before.” This was their last chance for several days. The wind had steadily increased as the gray clouds made their way across the sky. The storm was nearly upon them.

  The men nodded, more willing to search hard now that they knew there were young ones missing. But they’d already been searching for several hours and found nothing.

  Where the hell had the golden-haired lass gone? He’d been chasing her for over a sennight at this point, and although she’d surely been a challenge, he refused to give up.

  He and Gilbert were heading off in one direction when a scream ripped through the air.

  A scream that came from fear and desperation. It was the lass he’d seen before. He was sure of it.

  Moray tugged on the reins of his horse, sending it in the direction of the scream. When he finally managed to get close enough to set eyes upon the melee, he felt a lump in his throat. This helplessness was the same emotion he’d felt upon learning about his brother Ronan.

  He’d vowed never to experience it again.

  How wrong he’d been.

  Six horses ahead of him tore through the trees. The reiver astride the last horse was holding a screaming lass across the saddle, face-down. Sun-colored hair whipped in the wind, telling him who he would find on the horse.

  The group of horses headed across the glen, traveling way too quickly for the conditions of the ground. They raced up a ravine with steep sides—a dangerous spot where they should have slowed their pace. They did not. The last horse stumbled as they crossed the ravine at full speed. The rider fought to stay on its back, but he lost his captive.

  The lass fell off the horse, then tumbled down the steep expanse, her screams ripping at Moray’s insides. To his horror, he saw her head strike a rock on the way down. He shouted a command to Gilbert to continue pursuing the kidnappers, then jumped off his horse and raced down to the bottom of the ravine.

  He rushed to her side, praying the blow hadn’t been enough to kill her.

  Her eyes were closed, and blood poured from the wound on the side of her head.

  Tearing a piece of his plaid, he placed the strip of fabric against her wound, doing his best to stanch the bleeding. She moaned, but her eyes never opened.

  Gingerly, he placed his hand under her chin and turned her head enough so he could get a good look at her.

  Just as he’d thought, it was the golden-haired lass, only she was even more beautiful than he had guessed. He touched her shoulder and said, “Open your eyes for me, lass. Please?”

  She would be covered in bruises on the morrow from her tumble down the ravine, but that did not worry him as much as her head wound. The bleeding was slowing, but the wound had swollen to quite a mound, and he hated to put pressure on it anymore.

  She needed a healer.

  Gilbert returned and shouted to him. “They’re nearly all dead, Chief. One got away, though he’s got a bad wound so he won’t be back. Does she live?”

  “Aye, but she will not awaken, and she has a nasty head wound. I’ve slowed the bleeding, but it will not stop, even in this cold temperature. We must get her to our mistresses. Settle my horse. I’ll carry her up the side.”

  “’Tis too steep for you to carry someone,” Gilbert said, dismounting and going after Moray’s horse now chewing on grass.

  Moray pointed to an area near the end of the ravine. “I can climb there. Bring my horse to that spot.”

  Placing his hands underneath her head and her knees, he lifted her carefully, doing his best not to jar her in case she had broken any bones. He noticed one wrist had swollen quite a bit, so he did his best not to touch it.

  He carried her down the path before he began climbing.

  “Will you make it, Chief?” Gilbert called out. “I can come down and assist you.”

  “Nay, she weighs no more than ten leaves on an oak tree.” He didn’t pass along that it was further confirmation that she was the girl who’d been taking the food. She had no fat on her anywhere.

  She was starving.

  When he reached the top, he handed the lass to Gilbert. “Hold her while I mount.”

  Once he had her settled on his lap, he took the reins and headed back toward the keep.

  He sent Gilbert ahead to have Celestina ready herself for the lass, so when he arrived at the stables, Brodie, Celestina, and Cairstine were all waiting for them.

  He explained what he knew and carried her inside, taking her to a chamber off the great hall. Once inside, Celestina said, “Tell me exactly what you saw, Moray.”

  “There’s not much to tell. She was face down on a reiver’s horse when the horse bucked and threw her off. They were at the top of a ravine, so she hit hard and rolled down to the bottom.”

  “Was she awake at all?” Celestina asked as she dipped a linen square into a basin
of water, washing the lass’s face and cleaning the blood away from the wound.

  “Aye, she must have been because I heard her scream, but she hit her head on a rock halfway down the incline, and I don’t recall hearing a scream after that.”

  “Did she awaken at all on the ride back to the keep?”

  “Nay. I did my best to stanch the bleeding on her head, but the lump was so big I hated to push against it. I also noticed swelling on her left wrist.” He pulled her clothing back to inspect it, carefully holding it up for Celestina. “’Tis quite swollen.”

  Cairstine entered the chamber with fresh linen strips. Celestina said, “Moray, Cairstine will help me get her out of these dirty clothes and check her for any other wounds.”

  “But I’d like to speak with her,” Moray said, the words coming out like an entreaty. “She could know something about the MacFees. I’ll be happy to sit with her once you’ve cleaned her up and bandaged her where necessary.”

  Celestina patted his hand. “I understand. Why don’t you check on your men first? Then you may sit with her later. We must wash her hair and bathe her, find her a clean gown. Seems she took quite a roll in the dirt.”

  “All right,” he said, capitulating under duress. He did not want to leave her. “I’ll return later.”

  He left the chamber, his gaze staying on the lass until the door closed behind him.

  Who was she? What had happened to her?

  ***

  Moray came inside from the stables later that day but stopped as soon as he saw Brodie.

  “Was Gilbert able to catch any of the reivers?” Brodie asked.

  “Aye. Our guards killed all but one, and the survivor was badly wounded. The rest of our people have returned, but they haven’t seen any other reivers or any red-haired lads or lasses. That storm is brewing. Promises to be something fierce.”

  “I wonder where Braden is. I was hoping he’d beat the storm,” Brodie said, scratching his head with worry. “’Tis probably too soon to expect them. The storm should be over well before Yule, and as long as it doesn’t bury us too deeply, they’ll find their way back.”

  “Has she awakened?” Moray asked, his whole being too hopeful.

  Brodie said, “Nay, her head wound is quite swollen.”

  “She took quite a beating rolling down the ravine.” Moray would never forget the sight. It was as if he’d watched his brother take his fatal fall. If she didn’t make it... Nay, he’d not think of that. “May I ask a question, my lord?” Moray used that term when he wished to demonstrate his respect for the man’s position as the sire of their chieftain.

  “Aye, if you’ll stop calling me that,” Brodie drawled.

  “Should I send men out after MacFee? We promised to send a message if we located anyone who could know anything about his bairns.”

  Brodie rubbed his chin, considering the question. “If she doesn’t awaken by morn, we could send someone out after him. See if he recognizes her.”

  “But on the morrow, the storm will probably be raging across the Highlands.”

  “Aye,” Brodie said, frowning, “We’ll wait until the storm subsides. We’d probably never be able to find him in the wind and blowing snow.”

  Moray understood this reasoning. “Do you still think Braden will make it back in time for Yule?”

  “I hope so. If not, Cairstine and a wee laddie will be verra disappointed.” Brodie made a motion toward the kitchens. “There’s still time. I’ll check on the meal since Cairstine and Celestina are busy tending to the lass. I’ll see you there in about an hour.”

  Moray nodded, trying his best to hide his anticipation of seeing the lass again. He made his way across the hall and knocked on the door to her sickroom. Cairstine opened it the instant his knuckles landed on the wood, startling him. “Och, Moray. I nearly felled you. I’m headed to the kitchens to make sure the meal is nearly ready. Celestina is going to check on Steenie in the stables. Would you mind keeping an eye on the lass for us?”

  “Nay, not at all.” He knew he should probably tell her there was no need to check with the kitchens—Brodie was already doing so—but he couldn’t find it in him to say the words. She left in a hurry, and Celestina took her place in the doorway.

  “She’s a beautiful lass, is she not?” she said softly, giving him a knowing look. “Moray, I don’t know where she was living, but she… I wish to say that I think she’s been in hiding. Her clothing hasn’t been washed in a while.” She paused, then said, “I hope she awakens so she can give us more information.”

  “Do you think she knows the MacFees?” he asked, doing his best to look over her shoulder at the lass. All he saw was a glimpse of gold.

  “I think ’tis a distinct possibility.” She nodded to him. “Now, I must be off to see to Steenie.”

  Moray said, “My thanks, mistress.”

  He closed the door behind her, then pulled a stool up to the side of the bed. She was indeed one of the most beautiful lasses he’d ever seen. While her hair was golden, her lashes were a much deeper brown and stood out against her flawless skin. There were no freckles or anything marring her face except the bruises she’d gained from rolling down the incline.

  He checked her wound, noticing someone had stitched it closed. In this one way, her unconsciousness was a blessing—she hadn’t been forced to endure the pain of the stitching.

  Sitting on the stool, he whispered, “Who are you? Why did you run from me?” He brushed a stray hair back from her face. He checked everything he could, noticing Celestina had used a board to immobilize her wrist. He wondered if it was broken or just swollen and painful. She could have jammed it, which could be more painful than a break.

  He reached for her hand closest to him, the one that was not swollen, and cocooned it inside both of us. “Forgive me if I frightened you, lass. My mother thinks I was driven to help you because of the guilt that riddles me over the loss of my brothers, and mayhap she speaks the truth.

  “They both died this past year. Ronan and Keith. The worst of it is that Keith killed Ronan. He pushed him over a cliff over jealousy. When we learned the truth, Keith threw himself over that same cliff.”

  Moray stared at her closed eyes, wondering if she could hear him or not. How hard this was to admit, even to a sleeping beauty. Tears misted in his eyes when he thought of his two brothers. “I know I didn’t push either of them over the edge, but it seems I could have done something. Over and over again I ask myself how I could have been ignorant of Keith’s jealousy. Mayhap I could have done something to stop it. To warn Ronan.”

  He reached up to brush the back of his hand across her cheek. “Mayhap ’tis why I felt driven to save you. I know not. But there was…is something inside me that needed to save you. Forgive me if I took too long. Please come back.”

  He sat in silence for several moments, mulling over his own words. He knew he was not at fault for his brothers’ deaths, but the memories stung fiercely. And he still found himself playing the what-if game. What if I found out about Keith before he hurt Ronan? What if I was with Ronan that day? And so on.

  It was a game he played against himself.

  The lass’s eyes drifted open and she stared at him, pulling her hand from his. “Where am I?”

  “You’ve been with our healer. Do not worry. We’ll not hurt you.”

  “Is this the reiver’s castle?” She tried to push herself up in bed, but she fell back onto the soft furs with a moan.

  “Nay, I came after you,” Moray hastened to say, horrified she might think he was the one who’d kidnapped her. “You fell off the reiver’s horse and rolled down a ravine. I chased him away. I brought you back here once I was able to slow the bleeding from when you hit your head on a rock.”

  “My head hurts, and I’m verra sleepy.” Her eyes revealed the fear and doubt inside her.

  By the way her words slurred, he wondered if Celestina had given her a sleeping potion.

  “Lass, what’s your name? I’ve tried to h
elp you before, but you always ran from me.”

  She closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

  “Lass?” he asked. “Please. Your name. Who are you?”

  “Shona.” She paused and he feared she wouldn’t tell him the rest. But then her eyes fluttered open again. “Who are you?” Her fingers reached up and brushed his cheek before falling down onto the bed. It felt like the caress of a butterfly.

  “Moray Allen. What clan are you from? Who is your sire?”

  “My sire’s dead. I’m Shona MacKinnon.”

  One of the names MacFee had used. His heart pounded in his ears, “I have a question for you. Do you know any of the MacFee bairns?”

  Her eyes flew open, making him suspicious of what she knew.

  “Where am I? What castle is this?” Her words were much harsher than they’d been before. What had changed?

  “This is Muir Castle. Do not worry. You are safe. Can you tell me anything about the MacFees?”

  “Nay,” she snapped. “I know naught about any MacFees. But I must go. I have to return to Juel.”

  She was lying. He was certain.

  But why?

  One more thought forced its way into his mind, something he wished to ignore.

  Juel.

  She had to be speaking of her husband. Shona MacKinnon was already married. But he couldn’t ask her about it, for her head fell back against the pillow and she was asleep in seconds.

  He’d stay by her side all night, if necessary.

  He couldn’t let her go. Not yet.

  Chapter Ten

  Shona woke up in a panic. She’d let herself fall asleep in Muir Castle. Given what she’d heard about the people who lived here, she was lucky to have woken up at all, though her luck was bound to run out.

  She had to get away as soon as possible.

  “I must go. Juel needs me.”

  Moray placed his hands on her shoulders. “Lass, you’re in no condition to go anywhere. You took a terrible fall down a ravine, hit your head. Look at your wrist,” he said. “You’ve been asleep for nearly two days yet you’re still beat up.”