Kanyth (Immortal Highlander, Clan Skaraven Book 4): A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Hazel Hunter

  Silently cursing Brennus for saddling him with this task, Kanyth joined him and accepted a swallow from the bottle. “My lord, the Skaraven send a message of grave import.”

  Maddock’s eyes narrowed as he listened to Brennus’s revelations about the famhairean attacks, and how their intentions were not to siege his ally McFarlan, but the McAra. Kanyth then proposed the scheme the Skaraven had planned, and the details involved in replacing the laird’s men.

  “A canny strategy,” Maddock said, nodding. “Your brother honors me with his counsel. No’ that I asked him for it.”

  “He desires only to protect your clan, my lord,” Kanyth said quickly. “We count the McAra as our cherished friends.”

  “Indeed.” The laird smiled with all his teeth. “Yet Brennus reckons we cannae defend this stronghold or keep safe our own. He’d come to do thus for me.” This time he got to his feet and leaned over his ink-smudged desk as he hefted the whiskey. “Fack your brother, and your clan.”

  The side door to the study opened, and Lady Elspeth strode it. She went directly to her husband and snatched the bottle from his hand.

  “Wife,” Maddock said, grinning widely and trying unsuccessfully to stand up straight. “Go away now, Skaraven. I must rub my bride’s belly and ease her suffering.”

  “Och, now you think on me?” Elspeth planted a hand in the center of the laird’s chest and shoved him back into his chair. “You’re drunk, Maddock McAra, and twice a fool.”

  “Aye, for you, my love.” He squinted up at her. “You seem very pink of cheek tonight. Come and kiss me.”

  The lady slapped him, and Kanyth rose and started edging toward the hall door.

  “Please stay, Clanmaster,” Elspeth said, her gentle voice tight with anger. “I beg you forgive my lord’s discourtesy. ’Tis his pride blethering, as ’tis wont to do when he indulges. No, Husband,” she added when the laird tried to speak. “You’ve spewed more than I have this day. You’ll hear me now.”

  Maddock subsided and rubbed a hand over the mark on his cheek.

  Elspeth drew herself up with as much dignity as her burdened body would allow. “I’ve endured much for your sake, my lord. I’ve sought to please you in all ways. I’ve accepted your faults, your vanity, your stubbornness. I’ve indulged your need to play the fine laird. I’ve birthed your sons and daughters. I’ve seen to your every comfort. Aye, and I’ve loved you every moment since we wed. That ’tis why you shall permit the Skaraven to aid us, and keep safe this family and our clan—for me.”

  The laird scowled. “I shall keep you safe.”

  “Should you refuse me this, I will leave you,” the lady said flatly. “I shall take my bairns to my father’s stronghold, where we’ll be kept safe by my kin, and never again return to you.”

  The laird blinked as if confused. “I willnae permit you go.”

  “No’ a soul under this roof would hinder me, and you ken it.” She leaned down until only an inch separated their faces, but her expression filled with soft sympathy. “’Twas no’ your fault the lass died, Husband. Evil surrounds us. ’Tis come in our home. The Skaraven would fight with our clan to end it.” She pressed her lips to his brow. “Wouldnae you do the same for them?”

  Maddock looked up at her for a long moment. “Skaraven,” he said to Kanyth though he kept his eyes on his wife, “send word to your chieftain. It seems we shall stand together after all.” He pulled Elspeth into his arms, and held her tightly. “For the sake of a wife I’ve never deserved.”

  Kanyth saw the laird’s eyes take on a blurry gleam, and quietly left the chamber. His relief came with a curious envy after witnessing the exchange between Maddock and Elspeth. The little laird had what he himself would never know.

  ’Tis as it should be. I cannae give Perrin what they share.

  From the solar he walked toward the guest rooms where Bhaltair Flen had been installed. He’d direct the old druid to send a coded message with the laird’s reply to Brennus, and then he’d ride out with a night patrol. Until his brothers arrived he’d do what he could to keep the stronghold secure, and Perrin safe.

  As Kanyth entered the passage leading to the druid’s chamber he saw the young chambermaid slipping out of Bhaltair’s room. In her hand she held a large, empty sack, and she chuckled merrily as she turned to face him. All the delight vanished from her expression as she beheld him.

  “Marster Skaraven.”

  She curtseyed clumsily, lost her footing and cried out as she fell to her knees. Though she struggled to get up, her hand slipped and she crashed down again.

  Kanyth went to help her. “Here, lass, take my hand.”

  “My thanks, Marster.” As she tugged on his arm she brought up her other hand. In a very different voice she said, “Yet I think I’ll have your life.”

  He saw the flash of the blade a moment before she drove it into his neck. The pain of it cut off his air, and blazed through his neck and chest with white-hot agony. Blood poured down his tunic from the wound, and when he reached for the blade his legs gave way and he toppled. She danced away from him, giggling again as he choked and stared up at her.

  “May you rot, you worthless bastart,” the maid said serenely before she hurried away.

  Chapter Twenty

  PERRIN HELPED LADY Elspeth’s maids put the laird’s sleepy children to bed, and left them under the watchful eye of their night nanny. After a long day of trying to keep the little ones distracted she should have felt tired. Instead she’d grown so jumpy she could have done a dozen twisting arabesques without stopping. Wynda’s killer had to be someone inside the castle, or who could gain access undetected. Still, the laird had put the clan on high alert, and all the men standing guard looked ready to slice and dice any threat.

  “Has Lady Emeline returned?” she asked one of the sentries.

  “No’ yet, Mistress.”

  The man kept speaking, but his voice faded as his head became engulfed in white mist. His face shifted into an older man’s and Perrin gasped when she recognized Hendry’s gloating features. All around him the famhairean attacked the castle, and it looked like they were winning. But there, coming from the woods behind him, was Brennus and the clan on horseback. The battle was terrible but Perrin couldn’t look way. Just as Hendry raised his arms above his head, a thick white fog settled across the battlefield. The mad druid’s face receded into the mist but, as it did, it shifted into the smaller, feminine features of the maid who’d smirked at her after delivering firewood.

  Perrin froze as the passage around her widened and squared itself into a dark room, where the chambermaid moved toward a bed. At first she thought she was witnessing Wynda’s murder, but the chamber seemed larger. The maid drew back the blanket, revealing an empty bed. Perrin glanced around and saw a druid’s robe hanging to dry by the fireplace.

  What is she doing in Bhaltair Flen’s room?

  The maid removed the pillow from the bed, replacing it with what looked like a large, gray, sparkling turban. She carefully covered it up, and then backed away as she raised her hands. A glow the color of a dark bruise radiated from her fingertips.

  “I release you to do your worst,” the maid said in the low, rasping voice of a much older woman. “That I may do mine. Give him agony.”

  Perrin stiffened as the maid turned and walked straight through her. Behind her Bhaltair lay on the floor.

  An instant later Perrin stood back in the hall to the solar, the sudden change back to reality making her head spin a little.

  “Be you well, Mistress?” the sentry asked, looking concerned.

  “Yes, sorry.” She felt a terrible dread spreading thick and dense in her chest, and her marked hand suddenly grew warmer. “Would you tell me how to find Bhaltair Flen’s chamber, please?”

  Perrin hurried from the solar as fast as she could without alarming the clansmen and servants that she passed. The closer she drew to the druid’s chamber, the deeper the heat in her palm spread. Taking the last set of stairs two at
a time, she rushed into the hall of guest rooms and stopped short as she saw a pool of blood, and a trail of the same leading to a big, still body that lay face-down.

  “Ka.”

  She dropped down to roll him onto his back. Blood soaked the front of his tunic and trews. For a terrible moment she thought he might be dead, until she saw he was still bleeding from where the hilt of a dagger protruded from the side of his neck. She called his name several times, but he didn’t respond or open his eyes.

  Would this kill him? He’d lost so much blood that it didn’t seem possible that even an immortal could survive it.

  “Emeline hasn’t come back yet,” Perrin said as she ripped off the sleeve of her gown and used it to try to staunch the flow. But her hands shook so badly, she couldn’t apply enough pressure around the blade. “Don’t do this to me, Ka.” She searched frantically up and down the hall, but she couldn’t see anyone through the tears that had sprung into her eyes. “Help! Someone, help!”

  By the time she looked down, more blood had pooled on the floor. She had to stop that bleeding. Without thinking, she yanked out the blade and pressed her hands down hard on the wound.

  “Ka, don’t leave me,” she pleaded as the tears streamed down her face.

  All she knew was CPR. Would that help? She tried to blink the tears away. Gods, if only Emmie or Ru were here.

  An iridescent shimmer of aqua light seeped out from between her damp fingers. But they weren’t just wet with blood. The blue glow was spreading through the water of her tears.

  “Water,” she gasped. “Of course.”

  Carefully she lifted her fingers from the side of his neck. The terrible gash had been sealed.

  Kanyth’s eyelids flickered and opened, and he peered up at her.

  “Oh, God, Ka, please don’t die on me.”

  “I’ll try…no’ to.”

  His voice sounded like a strangled whisper. The stab wound must have caused some kind of internal damage.

  “Who did this to you? No, don’t do that,” she said as he pushed himself upright. “You’ve lost so much blood I don’t think you have any left. I’ll go get some help.”

  Kanyth shook his head and slapped a hand against the wall as he slowly stood. “I need more water. Much more.”

  The loch was too far away, and then she remembered something. “I asked the maids to fill a tub for me tonight, so I could take a bath. Would that be enough?”

  He nodded. “Keep out of sight.”

  Perrin saw how his legs were shaking, and tugged his arm over her shoulders. His bigger body made supporting his weight impossible, but he managed to stagger alongside her. It seemed to take forever to navigate the back corridors to their room, but finally they arrived.

  Inside Perrin helped him over to the wooden tub the chambermaids had filled with hot water for her bath, and steadied him as he climbed in and sank down. She grabbed the big chair and dragged it over to wedge it against the door before hurrying back.

  Bubbling light churned the now-bloody water as Kanyth transformed and then rose from the tub to stand in his water-traveling form. Although she had watched him make the change before, now she saw how beautiful he was, as if some magician had captured a wave and sunlight, and shaped them together to become a man.

  A man who looked ready to kill something, Perrin thought as Kanyth shifted back into his human form. “Are you okay now?”

  “Aye.” He climbed out, moving as if he’d never been hurt. He took her hand, and raised it to his lips. “I owe you my life.”

  “Really? Because I didn’t know, I mean, if you were dying. You’re not supposed to do that.” All the frantic energy inside her evaporated, leaving her feeling as if she’d come from a full-show rehearsal. “Oh, I need to sit down for a minute.” The floor was closest, and she leaned against the side of the tub and closed her eyes. “Who stabbed you?”

  “One of the maids.” He crouched down beside her and waited until she looked at him. “I caught her coming out of Flen’s chamber. I dinnae ken her name, but ’tis likely false. She’s no’ a maid.”

  “Was she dark-haired, doe-eyed and smirky like this?” Perrin imitated the girl’s scornful smile. When he nodded she said, “I had a vision of her putting something in the druid’s bed and then using magic. She must have attacked you just after that.” She took in a shaky breath. “She’s a chambermaid, like Wynda. Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “’Tis that I wish to kiss you now until you can say naught but more and please,” Kanyth said as he pulled her up into his arms, and held her close. “For the rest of the night and tomorrow and the week. Yet we must alert Maddock, and warn Flen.” He tucked her head under his chin, his hand stroking her hair. “As for the kissing, we agreed–”

  “I remember.” Perrin buried her face for a moment against his damp, warm chest. She just wanted to hold onto him and breathe him in and listen to his heartbeat.

  “You’re alive, and that’s what matters. I’m sorry about the rest. But definitely don’t kiss me.”

  He released her with obvious reluctance. “Until we catch this murderous wench, my lady, you’re no’ to leave my side.”

  “I won’t.”

  Perrin didn’t think she could have, even if she wanted to.

  Unwilling to again disturb the laird’s wife or alarm further the household, Kanyth sent two guards to discreetly summon Maddock and Bhaltair to the great hall. The druid had to be fetched from one of the barns, where he had been tending to the injured in Emeline’s absence. As they waited, Kanyth quietly told her about the message from Dun Mor, and Brennus’s scheme to ambush the famhairean.

  “Sounds like a good plan,” Perrin said and absently rubbed her bare arm until he drew her over by the fire. “You ruined my dress, you know. Or Emeline’s, or Lady Elspeth’s.” She gave him a wan look. “I can’t remember whose clothes I’m wearing.”

  “The druid said my tartan came from a lowlands clan,” he told her, rolling his eyes to make her smile. “But I’m told they’re good fighters, and favored by their king.”

  “I bet they’re proud to know a Skaraven wears it.” A sharp pop from a burning log drew her gaze. “Kanyth, that girl who attacked you, she came in right after you that night with all the kissing lessons. Was she outside in the hall when you left?”

  “Aye.” He saw her brows draw together. “What of it?”

  “When she came in, she had this look on her face, as if she knew that we’d been kissing.” Perrin shuddered. “I think she might have been standing outside the door listening, the whole time—and it was your chamber.”

  The laird came with an escort of guards, but had sobered enough to immediately notice the state of their garments. “By the facking Gods, who now attacks you?”

  “We’re no’ injured, my lord,” Kanyth said quickly. “An imposter posing as a maid stabbed me and left me for dead, but my lady came upon me and brought me to water.”

  “A wench did this to a Skaraven?” Maddock gestured at his blood-soaked trews. “Do they fashion female famhairean now to blight us?”

  “’Twas more likely a druidess,” Bhaltair said as his walking stick thumped along with his hitching step. “Murdina, mayhap, wearing an illusion of youth.”

  “I think she’s a little too unstable to pose as a servant,” Perrin said. “And Hendry would never let her come here by herself.”

  Kanyth regarded the old druid. “Ken you then a druidess of dark hair, and eyes like a fawn? She’s young, strong, and much skilled with a dagger.”

  Bhaltair paled. “You describe my former acolyte, Oriana Embry.”

  “I had a vision of the girl in your room, Master Flen,” Perrin told him, and related what she had foreseen. “She stabbed Kanyth when he surprised her on the way out. I think she may have been spying on us, too.”

  The laird turned to his men. “Summon more men from the garrison, and find this evil wench. Search every level, every room, every trunk if need be. See it done quietly, but l
eave naught unchecked.” He glanced at the old druid. “You’d do well to take the clanmaster with you to see what wickedness she planned for you.”

  Perrin went with Kanyth to escort Bhaltair to his chamber. Seeing the blood still puddled and streaking the floor gave them all pause, but Kanyth most of all. He knew awakening to immortality made him difficult to kill, but Perrin’s question came back to haunt him. Would he have survived such a wound if she had not found him?

  “I ken an immortal highlander who once took a spear to the throat, lad,” Bhaltair told him. “He survived it, but only after being taken through a portal for healing. You’re indeed fortunate to yet breathe. Now, you and the lass should wait outside while I ferret out what spell Oriana cast.”

  Kanyth drew his dagger. “I dinnae much like this hall. It wants cleaning.”

  “You’re not leaving me all alone out here,” Perrin added.

  The old druid sighed before he insisted on going in first, and muttered a spell that caused the candles to sputter to life.

  “All seems as ’twas when I left,” he said as he inspected the chamber, and then tilted his head as if listening to something. “You said in your vision that Oriana placed something in my bed?”

  “Yes, I watched her do it. It looked like a gray turban, a kind of a hat made out of cloth in my time. It’s wound around the head like a big bandage.” Perrin pointed at the mound under the blanket. “Right there.”

  Bhaltair nodded, and picked up a wooden bucket half-filled with water. “How I wish Lady Althea were visiting.” He took hold of the blanket, and drew it back.

  Kanyth saw what Perrin had thought a hat, which proved instead to be a giant wasp nest. As soon as it was exposed the occupants began crawling out and buzzing angrily. An enchantment shimmered over them, and they began to grow larger.

  “I’ve a single weakness to bear in every incarnation, one I take pains to keep secret,” Bhaltair said, and brought the bucket down quickly to cover the nest. Water splashed the front of his robe and spread out over the bed as he held the bucket in place. “Insects such as these. If I’m stung by even a handful, my throat closes and I cannae breathe. In truth ’twas what ended my fourth life in boyhood.”