Highlander's Wicked Gamel (Wicked Highlanders Book 1)

by Fiona Faris

  “My faither agreed tae this?”

  “Aye, he agreed it was best for all concerned given recent events.”

  “Are ye referin’ tae her unwanted guest?”

  “Aye. Yer faither made it quite clear that he did no’ want a war with the laird o’ Skye nae matter how much ye might love the lass.”

  “And how do ye come tae ken my faither’s mind on the matter?”

  “I was there in the room tendin’ tae yer faither when he spoke with the MacDonald lad.”

  Duncan drove his fist into the croft wall and immediately regretted it. A sickly crunching sound filled the croft as blood gushed from the broken skin, his hand swelling instantly. “Are ye daft?!” Idonea scurried forward and made him sit on a stool, so she could tend to his wound. “Dinnae pick fights with stone walls, lad. The stone will win every time.”

  “Aye, it would appear so,” Duncan admitted, ashamed of his rash behavior. He was fairly certain that his hand was broken. Disgusted with himself, he leaned his head back against the wall and allowed the healer to tend him. “Have I lost her forever, Idonea?”

  Idonea clucked her tongue with motherly concern. “Nae, lad, ye have no’ lost her. That lass loves ye more than the air she breathes. Ye only needed tae see her face when she could no’ find ye this mornin’ tae ken that.”

  “Then there is still hope for me,” he replied with relief, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

  “Aye, that there is, but ye need tae be more clever about it, lad, if ye wish tae make it so betwixt ye and yer people. Ye ken all tae well that they will no’ countenance ye bindin’ yerself tae the enemy. Ye will have struggles enough as it is convincin’ the clan’s warriors tae follow ye when the auld laird dies. Be sure that this is a battle that ye wish tae fight kennin’ that ye may no’ win. Is she worth losin’ yer people o’er? Is she willin’ tae lose her people o’er ye? As bonnie as yer love may be, there is a price tae be paid, lad… a steep price.”

  “Surely it will no’ come to such. We would no’ be the first enemies tae intermarry tae quell violence and form an alliance. ‘Tis a fairly common practice.”

  “Aye, when both parties are ready tae end the violence. I dinnae see that bein’ the case here. Do ye?”

  “There are some who are, but no’ nearly enough,” Duncan conceded her point. “There is much work tae be done tae prepare for such a union, I grant ye, but I will no’ let it stop me.”

  “Proceed with care, lad, or ye might find yerself on the wrong side o’ things when ‘tis o’er. Yer faither does no’ have much time left tae him on this earth. Use this time tae strengthen yer position with the clan no’ weaken it. Ye ken well enough that it is yer faither’s greatest wish that ye be laird when he is gone. Ye are loved and respected among our people as a man and hunter, but as a warrior ye have no’ proven yerself. If ye cannae win the clan o’er tae ye afore yer faither’s passin’ then ‘twill be another who leads the clan in yer stead. Yer cousin Lachlan is growin’ in favor with the fightin’ men o’ the clan. He is a wee bit hot blooded for my likin’. There are others who seek the lairdship as well. I would much rather see cooler heads prevail. An even tempered laird is a much better choice tae keep our people safe.”

  Duncan sat quietly thinking over what the old healer had said. “I have ne’er been inclined tae be the laird, but for my faither’s wishes. Our clan’s safety is o’ utmost importance tae me. ‘Tis best no’ tae draw tae much attention tae ourselves by rash behavior. Lachlan has ne’er expressed an interest tae be laird, but if he were tae assume the lairdship, he would be inclined tae declare war against the verra Campbells that we shelter under as would many ‘o the other warriors o’ the clan. It has ne’er settled well with them that we were forced tae hide among our enemies.”

  “The clan’s verra survival depends on ye becomin’ laird, Duncan. Ye have more than just yer love for Marra tae consider here, lad.”

  “I cannae let her go, Idonea.”

  “Ye may no’ have a choice.”

  “I will find a way,” he insisted adamantly.

  “I pray that ye do, but if no’, ye will be forced tae choose between the survival o’ yer people and the Lady o’ Jura, Marra MacDonald.”

  * * *

  Marra followed James into his father’s stone fortress. Knock Castle sat on a rocky green protrusion of land surrounded on nearly all sides by the sea with a strip of land connecting it to the rest of the island. The grey stone edifice sat as a stern sentinel, simultaneously guarding the waterway and the land. The castle, Caisteal Camus, had originally been built by the Clan MacLeod but had been taken by the Clan MacDonald centuries earlier. It had passed back and forth between the clans for some time until it came to rest permanently within MacDonald control. A fine fog hung over the water, giving the castle and hills beyond an otherworldly appearance. Marra could not help but shiver as she passed through the main door into the keep.

  “Are ye cold, lass?” James asked, a concerned look on his face.

  “Nae,” she shook her head in denial. “A bit nervous perhaps.”

  “Aye, we tend tae have that effect here,” James admitted with a sheepish smile. “My apologies, My Lady.”

  “Nae apologies needed,” Marra shook her head and squared her shoulders. “’Tis my own foolishness.”

  “’Tis said that we are haunted by more than one spirit.”

  “Oh?”

  “Aye, ‘tis said there is a beautiful Green Lady who haunts the halls smilin’ and cryin’ dependin’ on our family’s fortunes.”

  Marra smiled. “And the other spirit?”

  “’Tis a wee brownie who aids in the care o’ the livestock.”

  Marra laughed in delight at the thought of a wee spirit going about caring for the animals. “And have ye seen these spirits with yer own eyes?”

  “Nae, I have no’, but there are others who claim tae have seen them. When I was but a lad, ‘tis said that the night my maither died, the Green Lady roamed the halls weepin’ for the loss o’ such a beautiful soul.” A sad expression crossed his face for a brief moment before he recovered himself.

  “I tae lost my maither at a young age,” Marra commiserated, laying a hand on his arm in empathy.

  “Yer faither told us during his visit. ’Twas one o’ the many things that drew me tae ye. There is much tae be said for shared sorrow in choosin’ one’s helpmeet.”

  “Aye, that there is.” Marra’s thoughts turned to Duncan and how he had also lost his mother, though he had been blessed with his for much longer than she had been with hers. She withdrew her hand from James’ arm, and they continued walking together into the great hall.

  The Laird of Skye sat on a dais at the end of the hall, conversing with a group of the clan’s elders. Marra recognized one of the men as being from Jura She assumed he was one of the envoys that had been sent to call for vengeance against the Clan Campbell. She sincerely hoped that her cousins had made it in time to the other clan chieftains. She approached the dais and the man stood in greeting. “My Lady,” he nodded his head in respect.

  “Malcolm,” she nodded her head in reply.

  “We received word o’ yer return and have honored yer wishes no’ tae pursue vengeance upon the Clan Campbell, My Lady, but I must admit tae bein’ quite perplexed on the matter,” Malcolm stated quietly so as not to be overheard above the conversation of the other men.

  “I will no’ order any action tae be taken until we ken the true culprits responsible. We cannae afford tae attack the wrong people. Were we tae act in haste and err in our vengeance, the repercussions would be most severe. We MacDonalds o’ Jura, are tae few in number tae withstand such a thing.”

  “Have ye come tae honor yer faither’s pledge o’ marriage tae young James?”

  “Nae, I have come tae request aid for our people. As I am sure ye already ken, our food stores were lost in the fire. We must find a way tae feed ourselves afore the next harvest is ready.”

  “Aye. A wise
decision indeed, My Lady.”

  “Why had ye remained here instead o’ returnin’ tae Jura?” Marra asked confused by his prolonged presence on Skye.

  “What would I have returned tae, My Lady? I have nae family or home tae return tae. The laird has been kind enough tae invite me tae stay here on Skye and start a new life for myself. I have accepted his generous offer o’ hospitality.”

  Marra nodded in disappointed acceptance of his decision. “’Tis sorry I am tae see ye go, Malcolm, but ‘tis all the best I’ll be wishin’ ye in yer new life.”

  “I thank ye, My Lady.” Malcolm bowed and moved to inform the laird of his clanswoman’s arrival. “My Laird, may I introduce the Lady Marra MacDonald o’ the Isle o’ Jura. My Lady, the Laird Alexander MacDonald.”

  Marra bowed her head in respect. Now I ken where James’ middle name comes from.

  The laird arose from his seat and came forward to greet her. Taking her hand, he gallantly kissed it. And where he gets his courtly manners.

  “My Lady,” he murmured as he stood erect once more. “’Tis sorrowed I am tae here o’ yer faither’s passing. Ye have my deepest condolences.”

  “I thank ye, My Laird.” Marra extracted her hand from his grasp.

  Though the laird was as charming in manner as his son, he lacked James’ genuine nature. For Alexander it was a matter of going through the motions of propriety. For James it was a sincere show of respect and interest in his fellow man. Marra decided she much preferred the son to the father. “Have ye come tae honor yer faither’s last wish for ye tae marry my son?”

  “Nae, I have no’, My Laird.”

  A frown of disapproval creased Alexander’s brow. “And why no’?”

  “I dinnae ken yer son well enough tae wed him.”

  “Och, that is no’ but the whims o’ a young lass. Ye will ken each other well enough when ye are wed.”

  “Nae, My Laird. I will no’ wed a man I dinnae ken.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes, but he kept it under control. “Then why pray tell have ye come with my son at yer side?” he asked gesturing towards James to the right of her.

  “I have come seeking aid for my people. As a fellow MacDonald and former friend o’ my faither, I had hope that ye would be willin’ tae offer us aid until our own harvest comes in.”

  “And why would I offer aid tae a wee slip o’ a lass who has refused my son’s hand on nothin’ but the whims o’ female fancy?”

  “Faither,” James stepped forward to interrupt before his father said something truly regrettable. “Is it no’ our duty as fellow clansmen tae offer aid?”

  The laird’s eyes softened somewhat when he gazed up at his son. It was clear that he loved him and felt great pride in him. “Aye, it is, but I will no’ risk our own people for it. If yer people wish tae receive aid they may come tae Skye and remain here pledging their allegiance tae me.”

  “Leave Jura for good and swear allegiance tae the Laird o’ Skye?” Marra repeated dumbfounded at his suggestion. She had been willing to stay with Duncan’s family with the intention of returning to Jura as soon as was possible as they were so near her own home, but she was not willing to abandon her family’s lands altogether. “Nae, that is no’ possible. I will no’ abandon my faither’s legacy. Jura will once again stand tall given time.”

  “Only if ye agree tae marry my son,” Alexander argued, his eyes glinting with determination. “Either yer people declare their allegiance tae me, or ye marry my son. Those are my terms. Ye will no’ receive a jot o’ food from me otherwise.”

  “Faither!?” James protested, but was cut short by his father’s raised hand.

  “Those are my terms,” Alexander repeated, enunciating every syllable.

  “I will simply seek aid amongst the other MacDonald chieftains,” Marra stated, angered by his refusal to properly help his own kinsman.

  “I have already seen tae it that they will no’ do anythin’ tae aid ye. I have made it quite clear that ye and all o’ Jura now falls tae the care o’ Skye. In the eyes o’ the Clan MacDonald ye are bound tae my son in marriage.”

  “I did no’ consent tae wed yer son!”

  “’Tis yer word against mine. I have yer faither’s signature. Who do ye think they will believe a grief stricken lassie or the well-respected Laird o’ Skye?”

  “Ye are deplorable!”

  “Faither, this is truly unacceptable. I will have nae part in this,” James protested.

  “Haud yer wheesht,” the laird ordered his son in no uncertain terms. The tone of his voice carried meanings that went far beyond his words. Turning back to Marra he met her eyes. “Ye have a fortnight tae choose. After that my offer of aid will be withdrawn and with it the Isle of Jura and yer people will be nae more.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Marra stood gape mouthed in shock. She attempted to stutter out an appropriate response, but words failed her. The laird, having said all he wished to say, dismissed her with a wave of the hand and returned to discussing clan business with the elders. Marra turned and stormed from the keep with James close on her heels.

  “Marra, I am so verra sorry. I ne’er imagined he would be capable o’ such deplorable behavior toward a fellow clanswoman. I have seen him behave so with his enemies, but ne’er a kinswoman.” The bewildered, disapproving look on his face showed that he spoke the truth.

  Ewen approached them from across the courtyard. “My apologies, My Lady, but I was denied entrance in tae the keep. Apparently, Campbell scum are no’ welcome at Castle Knock. Were it no’ for my havin’ arrived with yer Ladyship, I believe I would have been run through on the spot. How did ye fair with the lad’s faither?” he gestured toward James.

  “No’ well,” Marra admitted angrily. “We have been refused aid unless I marry James or my faither’s people all swear allegiance tae the Laird o’ Skye. I have been given a fortnight tae decide.”

  “The blaggard!” Ewen frowned clenching his fists. “What sort o’ a man blackmails his fellow kinswoman in such a way?”

  “Alexander MacDonald apparently.”

  “What will ye do, lass?” he asked concerned. “Can ye seek aid from any o’ the other MacDonald chieftains?”

  “Nae, Alexander has laid claim tae the people o’ Jura. He has made them all tae believe that I married his son willingly and that by law, my people and I belong tae him.”

  “Can ye no’ set the matter straight?”

  “He has my faither’s signature stating that his story is true. Who are they goin’ tae believe?”

  “Och,” Ewen shook his head in angry frustration. Marra was endeared by his reaction on her behalf. “I would verra much like tae teach the man some manners.”

  “As would I,” James agreed, “but ‘tis unlikely tae e’er happen.”

  “Aye,” Ewen agreed eyeing the fortification, “but a man can dream.”

  James chuckled and clapped Ewen on the back in approval. “Aye, that he can.” Sobering he turned back to Marra. “I will attempt tae speak with my faither further on the matter. Until then, I will arrange a place for ye tae rest.”

  “I would prefer no’ tae remain inside o’ the castle with yer faither,” Marra admitted. “He has made his feelings quite clear on the matter, and I would no’ trust him no’ tae take me prisoner afore the night is done.”

  “Aye,” Ewen agreed. “I dinnae wish tae let ye out o’ my sight until we are safely off o’ this rock.”

  James stood and thought for a moment. “My grandmaither kept a croft afore she died no’ far from here. ‘Twould be just far enough tae keep ye out from under my faither’s nose, but no’ so far that I cannae come tae ye quickly if needed.”

  “Why did yer grandmaither no’ stay in the castle with yer family?” Marra asked confused by such odd behavior.

  “She was my maither’s maither and was no’ fond o’ my faither any more than ye are,” James admitted with a fond smile of remembrance. “Ye remind me o’ her somewhat.”

  �
��Sounds as if she were a woman o’ good taste,” Ewen remarked appreciatively.

  “Aye, that she was.” James turned to Marra and offered her his arm. “I shall escort ye tae the croft then return later with some food. She died just this past winter so her croft is still in good repair, and I have maintained many o’ her belongings there as an escape for myself from time tae time. Ye should find everythin’ ye need tae be comfortable.”

  “I thank ye for yer kindness, James. Ye are a great relief tae me during this time o’ struggle.”

  “There is nae need tae thank me, lass. E’en if we ne’er wed, I will always look out for ye. We are kindred souls ye and I.”

  The three of them left the castle and the headland on which it stood, walking further inland. James had not exaggerated the beauty of his home. The Isle of Skye was breathtaking to behold. Marra found herself quite taken in by the landscape. Such exquisite beauty seems wasted on a man the likes o’ Alexander MacDonald.

  They walked until they came to a little stone cottage with a thatched roof and wooden shutters. James opened the door and ushered them in. The croft was dark, and he moved to open the shutters to allow light from outside to pour in. He lit a blaze in the fireplace and put the kettle on to heat water. “That should be hot soon if ye wish tae bathe after yer journey. I will return with food as soon as I am able.”

  “I thank ye for yer hospitality, MacDonald,” Ewen admitted. “’Tis a fair sight better than what I would have received back at the castle.”

  “’Tis my pleasure, sir,” James answered with a bow and then left the croft.

  Ewen and Marra stood looking at each other for a moment, a bit uncertain as to what to do with themselves. “I will shake out the beddin’ and do a bit o’ cleanin’,” Marra stated, deciding that a bit of work would help put her mind to rights.

  “And I will see tae the wood pile and ensure that there is nae one about tae cause ye any trouble,” Ewen offered. Marra nodded, and he left her alone in the croft.