Every Highland Sin: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance

by Kenna Kendrick

  “So all of this advancement of yers relies on ye killin’ me and Aileas, eh?”

  He nodded. “Aye. Tis a simple but elegant plan, really. One of thae best I’ve come up with, truth be told.”

  Luke spat on the ground near the man’s boots and looked him in the eye, holding his gaze firmly to let him see the pure revulsion he felt for him.

  “Ye’re makin’ one mistake though,” Luke said.

  “Aye? And what’s that?”

  “Aileas will never stop comin’ for yer master. She’ll have her vengeance. She’s nae goin’ tae be denied,” he said, his voice low. “She’ll come tae claim her birthright.”

  “Then ye’ll die.”

  Luke shrugged. “I’ll be happy enough kennin’ she’s comin’ tae kill yer master. And a coward like ye.”

  A small smile curled his lips upward. “Ye like tae call me a coward. But if nae for me courage, ye’d nae be sittin’ in that cell right now.”

  “Nay, I’m sittin’ in this cell because of those fightin’ men ye brought with ye,” he replied. “They’re the ones who had thae courage tae face me while ye hid in a corner.”

  Luke was satisfied that he’d scored a direct hit when the man’s face darkened. He visibly bristled at Luke’s words, which Luke found interesting. His inability or unwillingness to wield a blade was obviously something of a sore spot with him. It took the man a moment, but he finally calmed down enough. He looked at Luke, an expression of amusement on his face.

  “I’ve had people me whole life tellin’ me I’m nae courageous or strong for nae bein’ much with a blade in me hand,” he said. “But dae ye want tae ken somethin’?”

  “I’ve a feelin’ ye’ll tell me even if I say I daenae want tae hear it.”

  “You are a perceptive man. And might I just add how much I enjoy having a captive audience?” he chirped.

  “Ye should get some actual friends,” Luke said. “Oh wait, I bet nobody actually likes ye, eh?”

  “Laugh and be smug now. For soon enough, ye are goin’ tae regret every word ye’ve said ta me.”

  “Is that so?”

  He nodded. “Aye. Tis so,” he said. “But as I was sayin’, courage comes in many forms. Aye, I have those cretins wadin’ intae a fight, swords swingin’ precisely because they’re willin’ tae dae it. But courage comes in many forms, lad. Such as bein’ thae one behind thae scenes, comin’ up with thae plans tae eliminate thae threats to me master. Having a sharp intellect, and using it as I have, is a virtue all its own.”

  “Ye keep tellin’ yerself that. But tis cowardice to skulk about in thae shadows,” Luke said. “Tis cowardice tae send somebody else tae fight in yer stead. Tis cowardice tae nae fight when ye’re called out.”

  He shrugged. “Ye are free tae believe as ye wish.”

  “Yer approval means so much tae me.”

  The man considered him for a long moment, a frown tugging his mouth downward. He stayed like that for a long moment.

  “I do regret it has tae be this way. It seems such a waste that a man of yer talents will have his light extinguished,” he said. “I must confess that I enjoyed watchin’ ye fight. I admire yer skill, and I was impressed by it. Ye move with a grace uncommon in most men. Watchin’ ye fight is like watchin’ a beautiful but lethal dance. Tis a shame ye have tae die. Truly.”

  “We’ll see if ye feel that way when I’m buryin’ me sword in yer heart.”

  He chuckled softly. “Such bluster. Tae thae last.”

  He turned and signaled to somebody further down the corridor. A moment later, three men appeared. As one unlocked the cell door, the other two stood with their blades bared and pointed straight at him. Luke took a few steps back as the trio entered his cell, the spymaster, still leaning against the wall across from the cell, watching.

  As one man kept his sword trained on him, the other two slammed Luke into the wall, driving the air from his lungs. They raised his hands above his head and locked them into shackles that had been embedded into the stone. He started to thrash but got the pommel of a sword into his belly for his effort. He hung there, gasping for breath as the three men retreated from his cell.

  A few moments later, a large man, easily a head taller than him, and definitely far wider, squeezed himself into Luke’s cell. He wore black breeches, a black leather vest, and a black hood over his head. Luke thought the last bit ridiculous since you’d be able to guess the man’s identity anywhere, just because of his size alone.

  Luke cut a glance over to the spymaster who’d produced an apple from the folds of his robes and was snacking away on it as he watched. A cold chill swept through him as he returned his gaze to the large men, noticing how much he looked like a headsman. It was an effect Luke assumed was not accidental. The spymaster obviously wanted to keep him on edge and afraid. And the thought of losing his head certainly did send a ripple of fear through him. But he would rather die than be used as a pawn in Pringle’s twisted game.

  “Oh, this is Cillian,” the spymaster said. “He’s here to help encourage you.”

  “Encourage me?”

  “Aye. I’m goin’ tae be askin’ ye some questions, and if ye daenae answer me, or if I think ye’re lyin’ tae me, Cillian here is goin’ to hurt you…badly,” the spymaster said. “So I’d say it’s in yer best interest tae answer me, and answer me honestly, because Cillian likes hurtin’ people.”

  Luke stared into the emotionless depths of Cillian’s eyes as he gritted his teeth. His body grew taut, and he turned his gaze to the spymaster.

  “Do what ye got tae dae,” Luke spat. “I’ve got nothin’ tae say tae ye. Nor would I, even if I did.”

  The spymaster regarded him silently and coolly for several long moments. Then he flashed Luke a smirk that tightened his gut.

  “I suppose we’ll see about that then, eh?” he said, then turned to the walking mountain in the cell. “Cillian, loosen him up a bit so we can get started if ye’d be so kind?”

  A chuckle drifted out from beneath the hood, those dark eyes burning into Luke’s, making him shudder, as the man stepped toward him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Are ye sure ye want tae dae this, lass? Dand asked.

  “Nay, I’m nae sure I want tae bleedin’ dae this,” she snapped. “In fact, I’d prefer nae tae dae it at all. But what choice dae we have then?”

  Dand fell silent and looked down into the bottom of his cup as he swirled the ale around as Aileas slumped back in her seat and drained the last of her cup. She signaled the serving girl to bring another. Since finding that Luke had been taken, she had been in a black mood, not knowing what to do. So she did what she always did when she felt as bleak and without her bearings as she did at that moment… she found a tavern and drank.

  Aileas had run through a thousand different plans and scenarios in her mind, trying to figure out some way to get Luke back on her own, but had, so far, failed to come up with anything substantive. She knew she could not attack Bruce’s keep head-on. Not with the small force of men she had at her disposal.

  She had been relying on stealth and the advantage of surprise to see her through this fight, but now she could rely on neither. Aileas found herself adrift. She felt lost and with no sense of direction. She had no guiding star and didn’t know which way land was.

  “Mebbe we can fall back and regroup,” Dand offered. “Come up with a way other than this.”

  “We cannae leave Luke in Pringle’s keep. Havin’ God knows what done tae him. I willnae,” she hissed. “And if it means I have tae deal with thae Devil himself, I’ll dae it.”

  “Seems tae be thae way we’re headed,” Dand muttered.

  Aileas glowered at her cousin and looked around the common room of the tavern as the serving girl dropped off a fresh round. It was about half-full, with men hunched over their cups, their mood seemingly as dark as the sky outside. The storm had finally moved in, and the rain poured down, the sound of the deluge combining with the crackle and popping o
f the fire that blazed in the hearth. Ordinarily, it would be a warm and comforting sound, but at the moment, Aileas thought it sounded ominous.

  She took a long swallow of her ale, trying for the thousandth time to convince herself that the path she was contemplating was actually the right path. If this was a straight-up fight, she thought perhaps they stood a chance. But it wasn’t a straight-up fight. They needed to rescue Luke, which meant getting into Pringle’s keep. He had the advantage over her, and they both knew it. Aileas knew she would not be able to lure him out and into the open.

  She growled to herself, knowing she needed help to free Luke and take Pringle down. It galled her.

  “So what are we goin’ tae dae?” Dand asked. “Though I’m nae opposed tae drinkin’ til thae rain lets up.”

  “Rain may nae let up for days. And Luke doesnae have days.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  Knowing there was nothing left but to do what she didn’t want to, Aileas quaffed the last of her ale and slammed the cup down on the table, perhaps trying to wash the bitter taste out of her mouth. Aileas got to her feet and walked out of the tavern. The rain had lightened up, but a steady mist was still falling. Dand stepped up beside her and pulled the hood of his cloak down over his head, a sour look upon his face.

  “The bleedin’ weather matches yer mood. I’ll give it that,” he griped.

  Aileas cast a dark glance at him, making Dand laugh.

  “See,” he said.

  “Shut yer hole,” she snapped.

  Dand continued to chuckle to himself. Disgusted by how seriously he wasn’t taking the situation, Aileas shook her head and stalked off toward the stables. He stayed on her heels as she mounted up and rode out. The crack of thunder split the sky above them, and a flare of lightning lit up the world.

  The horses plodded on, the mud on the road making loud sucking sounds beneath their hooves as the mist grew a bit heavier. Dand grumbled under his breath as they rode out of the town proper and took the road that led up the hill to where Cherrythorn Manor, home to Baron Begbie, sat overlooking Sowkirk.

  By the time they reached the gates in the curtain wall, they were soaked through. A pair of guards, looking bored and angry that they had to step out into the cold and wet, glared up at her.

  “What’s yer business here?” the first guard asked.

  “We need tae see thae Baron,” she replied.

  “Baron isnae seein’ anybody,” the guard snapped back.

  “He’ll want tae see us,” she said.

  “I told ye, he’s nae seein’ anybody.”

  Ailes sighed and glanced at Dand, whose expression was dark, his features twisted in irritation. She turned back to the guard, feeling her anger bubbling up inside of her, a warmth that started in her belly, spreading outward.

  “I mean tae go in and see yer Baron,” she said. “Ye can either step aside, or ye can explain tae yer Baron why ye’re so black and blue, and bloody. After ye wake up, of course.”

  “Yer threats daenae scare me,” he said. “And yer nae gettin’ intae thae keep.”

  “Then go deliver a message tae yer baron. Tell him we come bearin’ news about one of his men. Tell him Luke’s been taken. He’s bein’ held hostage.”

  The man stood up a little straighter, an inscrutable look crossing his features. He looked at Aileas closer, his lips curling down into a frown.

  “Taken, ye say? Bein’ held hostage?” the man asked.

  “Aye. Tis what I said. Tis why I need tae speak with yer Baron,” Aileas replied.

  “I’m Conall. I’m Luke’s friend. Who’s taken him then?”

  “Take me tae see yer Baron. I need tae speak with him personally.”

  The man named Conall hesitated, casting a look at the other guard standing with him. The other man shrugged, deepening Conall’s frown as he turned back to Aileas and Dand.

  “Come with me,” he said.

  Aileas and Dand dismounted and followed Conall through the gate and into the bailey. Even in the weather they were having, the bailey was buzzing with activity as people went about their daily routines. Conall waved an arm, and a young man who probably hadn’t seen but thirteen summers rushed over. Conall gestured to them.

  “Take their horses, lad. Feed, water, and brush ‘em down,” he said.

  The lad nodded, then stepped over to take the reins from them. Dand seemed a little hesitant to give his up, but he complied after a withering look from Aileas. As the boy trotted off with their mounts, they followed Conall across the yard, the mud caused by the rain sucking at their boots with a wet, squishy sound.

  They stepped across a wooden bridge, beneath a portcullis, and into a circular stone chamber. Tapestries hang upon the walls, and statues of men Aileas didn’t know, carved from a dark stone, stood silent sentinel against the walls. Dand and Aileas stood in small but growing puddles as the rain dripped off their cloaks, and Dand just gave her a shrug.

  “Tis nae much we can dae about it. Tis bleedin’ rainin’ after all,” he said.

  “Come,” Conall grumbled.

  They followed him through a door, then through the winding corridors, and deep into the heart of Cherrythorn Manor. Conall led them down a long corridor, the walls on either side adorned with rich tapestries separated by flickering torches standing in dark iron sconces. A pair of guards in house livery stood on either side of a vast, wooden door.

  “Make way, lads,” Conall said. “We need tae see thae Baron.”

  “He doesnae want tae be disturbed,” said the guard on the right.

  “He’ll want tae hear this. Now, make way,” Conall replied.

  The two guards exchanged a look but finally stepped aside, letting Conall push the door open. They filed into the room, and one of the guards outside closed the door behind them. They were in a relatively small stone chamber that, like the corridor outside, was adorned with beautiful tapestries on two walls and a vast array of ornamental weapons on the third. Behind who Aileas assumed was Baron Fin Begbie, the fourth wall held three large windows, set with glass in reinforced iron frames.

  The land beyond the windows overlooked what looked like an orchard, barely visible in the gloom of the oncoming evening. A brilliant flash of lightning split the sky, lighting up the world around them in silver, monochromatic light so bright it made her wince and look away.

  A large wooden table made of some dark wood Aileas couldn’t place stood in the center of the room with the baron sitting at its head. The table was laden with food that smelled wonderful and made Aileas’s stomach rumble quietly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since that morning. Dand’s stomach rumbled loud enough for everybody to hear, based on the two women seated at the table doing their best to hide their smiles behind their hands.

  To the baron’s right was a fair-complected woman with hair darker than the sky at night and eyes the color of sapphires. The dark-haired woman was beautiful, but Aileas thought the woman seated next to her was a woman of unearthly beauty. The only word she could think of to describe her was ethereal.

  She had skin the color of creme, the most dazzling blue eyes she’d ever seen, and hair the color of spun gold. Even though she was sitting down, Aileas could tell she was tall and slender but also had generous curves that accentuated her femininity. And judging by the choked gasp that burst from Dand’s mouth, he noticed as well.

  “Baron Begbie, forgive me interruption,” Conall said. “But these two here say they’ve got information ye need tae hear. Tis about Luke.”

  At that, the man seated to the baron’s left turned and looked at them, and Aileas felt the weight of his gaze upon her. He was a man with a presence about him. His hair, the color of sand, was pulled back into a braid that fell to the middle of his back. He had dark eyes that Aileas felt could see straight into her soul. He was a gruff and grizzled man but was ruggedly handsome.

  Aileas could see that he was a warrior. He was a man most comfortable with a blade in his hand, staring his enemy in the e
ye. Of that, she had no question. And if she had to guess as to who he was, she would have said he was Headen Bathgate, Captain of the Black Wolves that Luke had gone on and on about.

  She turned her gaze to the baron himself. And he was a bear of a man. He was taller than even Dand, with long dark hair that fell to the middle of his back, a thick dark beard, and dark eyes that were fierce and intimidating. Aileas thought he looked like he would have made a good pirate.

  “Thank ye, Conall. Ye may go,” the baron said.

  Conall inclined his head in an informal bow and quickly left the room, but not before casting a look of concern at Aileas, which she interpreted to mean he wanted to be part of any attempt to get Luke back. She admired his loyalty to his friend. She turned back to the table, and everybody was staring at her. The baron arched an eyebrow as he looked at her, and she felt the pressure of everybody’s gaze on her. Aileas cleared her throat and squared her shoulders.