Highland Hellcat

by Mary Wine

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2010 by Mary Wine

  Cover and internal design © 2010 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover design and photography by Anne Cain

  Cover image © Bridgetjones/Dreamstime.com

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

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  Table of Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  Dedication

  To dreams and those who continue to listen to you when you dream out loud.

  One

  “Come, my beauty, we shall see if we can impress anyone tonight with our skill.”

  Brina patted the mare on the side of the neck, and the animal gave a toss of its silken mane. She smothered a laugh before it betrayed to those around just how much she was looking forward to riding out of her father’s castle. She gained the back of the mare, and the animal let out a louder sound of excitement. Brina clasped the animal with her thighs and leaned low over its neck.

  “I agree, my beauty. Standing still is very boring.”

  Brina kept her voice low and gave the mare its freedom. The animal made a path toward the gate, gaining speed rapidly.

  Brina allowed her laughter to escape just as she and the mare crossed beneath the heavy iron gate that was still raised.

  “Don’t be out too long… Dusk is nearly fallen…” the Chattan retainer set to guarding the main entrance to Chattan Castle called after her, but Brina did not even turn her head to acknowledge the man.

  Being promised to the church did have some advantages after all. Her undyed robe fluttered out behind her because the garment was simple and lacked any details that might flatter her figure. There were only two small tapes that buttoned toward the back of it in order to keep the fabric from being too cumbersome.

  “Faster…”

  The mare seemed to understand her and took to the rocky terrain with eagerness. The wind was crisp, almost too chilly for the autumn. Brina leaned down low and smiled as she moved in unison with the horse. The light was rapidly fading, but the approaching night didn’t cause her a bit of worry.

  She was a bride of Christ, the simple gown that she wore more powerful even than the fact that her father was laird of the Chattan. No one would trifle with her, even after day faded into night.

  But that security came with a price, just as all things in life did. She straightened up as the mare neared the thicket, and she spied her father’s man waiting on her.

  Bran had served as a retainer for many years, and he was old enough to be her sire. He frowned at her as she slid from the back of the mare.

  “Ye ride too fast.”

  Brina rubbed the neck of the horse for a moment, biting back the first words that came to her lips.

  “What does it matter, Bran? I am promised to the church, not betrothed like my sisters. No one cares if I ride astride.”

  If she had been born first or second to Robert Chattan, there would be many who argued against her riding astride, because most midwives agreed that doing so would make a woman barren.

  Bran grunted. “It’s the speed that ye ride with that most would consider too spirited for a future nun.”

  Brina failed to mask her smile. “But I shall be a Highland nun, not one of those English ones who are frightened of their own shadows.”

  Her father’s retainer grinned. “Aye, ye are that all right, and I pity those who forget it once ye are at the abbey and training to become the mother superior.”

  Bran turned and made his way into the thicket. Brina followed him while reaching around to pull her small bow over her head. The wood felt familiar in her grip. It was a satisfying feeling, one for which she might thank her impending future as well. Her sisters had not been taught to use any weapons. They were both promised to powerful men, and the skills of hunting would be something that those Highlanders might find offensive to their pride.

  She snorted. Going to the church suited her well indeed, for she had no stomach for the nature of men. She could use the bow as well as any of them.

  “At least I know that ye will nae go hungry.” Bran studied the way she held the bow, and nodded with approval. “Those other nuns will likely follow ye even more devoutly because ye can put supper on the table along with saying yer prayers.”

  “I plan to do much more than pray.”

  Bran frowned and turned his attention to finding a good spot to hunt from. The burly retainer didn’t believe her.

  That thought sobered her. She would have to leave soon, because the seasons were changing and the church was beginning to pressure her father for her. She didn’t dread departing, beyond that it would be hard to leave her sisters, but she did detest the attitude from those around her that she was going to the abbey to do nothing but kneel in submission. Bran was correct about one thing, she would not be a mother superior who allowed the men who came to her church to act like savages the moment they received their absolution.

  “Those rabbits will nae be waiting on ye.”

  Bran spoke up, his voice drifting on the wind from where he was perched in a tree. Despite the gray in his hair, he was still a strong man, and his legs with their knee-high boots were pressed against the bark of the tree to keep him solidly in position. His back was propped against a higher portion of the tree and his bow held steady while he looked back at her.

  Brina smiled at the challenge in his voice. “I plan to fell one before ye do.”

  Bran chuckled and offered her a wink. “Ye sound like a lad.”

  “What does it matter if I am less than feminine? Better that I am practical, for that will bring me more comfort in my life with the church, and it will see more good done if I am not delicate but might face injustice with my shoulders set firmly.”

  Bran chuckled again. “For certain, it is a good thing that yer father has no’ changed his mind about sending ye to the church, for ye have been raised too long with the knowledge that ye shall have no master upon earth.”

  “Now ye are teasing me, for I know the place that shall be mine. I simply plan to make the most of it.”

  “Aye, Brina lass, I can hear that ye do, and may God have mercy on those who try to cross ye, for ye will have none upon them.”

  Brina shook her head and swept her skirts away from her ankles so that she might climb up the trunk of another tree and perch very much in the same manner Bran was.

  “I’d think that ye might be impressed with the fact that I intend to take to my place with such passion.”

  Bran didn’t answer, but something entered his eyes that looked a bit like pity,
and she forced her thoughts on to her arrow and lining it up correctly so that she might be able to ignore the emotions that threatened to send tears into her eyes.

  She’d be a good mother superior. The best possible, because her father had given his word on the matter, and it was a poor daughter who shamed her father by refusing the place that he set for her.

  Her sisters would wed their arranged matches, and she would be a bride of Christ. It was the way to maintaining peace and balance in the Highlands.

  The light faded more, and the animals of the forest began to brave the semidarkness to seek out food. Brina didn’t fear the night as so many did, but she kept that a closely guarded secret, for it was not something to share with those who did believe in witches and ghosts. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in specters. It was just that she was not afraid of them.

  An arrow sliced through the night air, and there was a thump as a rabbit fell. Brina bit her lip in reprimand, for her attention was wandering and now she had lost the advantage. Bran jumped down with a soft step, one he’d taught her to use while hunting. It was a skill that took practice and concentration, but he walked toward his prize, his feet avoiding the dry leaves on the ground so that no sound marked his path. He held the rabbit up, and even though she could not see his expression clearly in the deepening darkness, she knew that his face was split with a smile.

  Well, he had earned his victory, but that did not mean she was going to return to Chattan Castle empty-handed. She focused her eyes on the shadows, seeking out any motion and listening for the tiniest sound. When she let her own arrow fly, it sailed true and straight toward the rabbit she had spied near the base of a tree.

  She smiled before climbing down, remaining mindful of her every step so that she might be as silent as Bran had been. Her father didn’t know that Bran had taught her such a skill, and she saw no reason to mention it. Such ability was considered essential for a boy who would grow into a Highlander. They were not the most feared fighters on the planet for no valid reason. Boys began training from the moment that they took their first steps. They practiced the art of blending in with the night so that their enemies might never know where they were until they struck.

  Brina stopped halfway back to her tree and lifted her head. In the distance she could hear the faint sounds of a horse, its hooves beating against the earth at a fast pace. She climbed the tree nearest her and scanned the hillside until she saw the animal. A single woman rode it. A dark cloak fluttered in the breeze while she leaned low over the neck of her mount, but she had her hood secured on the top of her head to keep her features hidden.

  “Who’s that riding out?” Bran climbed a tree, but he only gained a view of the back of the horse and rider.

  Who would be headed out from the castle at this time of day?

  “Is she riding out to meet a lover?” Brina spoke the moment the thought crossed her mind.

  Bran pulled in a quick breath. She’d shocked the man with her question, but she didn’t lower her gaze in shame.

  Bran grunted.

  “There are things that no nun should be knowing about, because it will leave ye discontented in your maiden’s bed.”

  Brina snorted. “What nonsense. I am not to know about lovers and their meetings, but as mother superior, I’ll be expected to shelter those women sent to me when their husbands discover that they have fallen from grace.”

  Bran shook his head and refused her any further comment. Brina turned back to look at the path the rider had traveled.

  So she was riding out to seek a lover…

  The night was a perilous place filled with men who did not behave according to the rules that surrounded them during the day. Once you left the fortress behind, you submitted yourself to the mercy of whomever you met, and sometimes that was an ill fate.

  “Enough hunting.”

  Brina frowned. “But we only have two rabbits.”

  Bran’s expression was hard as he stared into the night, his bow hanging forgotten by one hand. “Aye, it will have to do. I need to return to the castle.”

  Suspicion filled her thoughts, but Bran didn’t give her time to ask him any more questions. He was off to gather their horses before she reached the ground.

  The woman must be insane.

  Brina shook her head because she couldn’t see how taking a lover might bring any true happiness. Lust was a deadly sin after all.

  Insane, and no doubt about it.

  ***

  Brina returned to Chattan Castle with only the two rabbits, and the cook raised an eyebrow at her small offering.

  “Are ye ailing?” The woman reached out to feel her forehead and frowned when she discovered that Brina was fit and solid with no hint of fever at all.

  “My attention wandered.”

  The cook glowered at her. “And look what you have to show for all that lack of discipline. Only two rabbits, which will not go far.”

  The cook turned her back on Brina and mumbled while she took the game toward the long trestle tables that were used to prepare food. Even in the darkness, several women were standing at the table, using the flickering light from the great hearth to cut vegetables. Now that it was turning to autumn, the last of the harvest was being brought in, and there was an abundance of work for everyone if they did not want to suffer empty bellies once the snow buried the hillsides and streams.

  “Do not worry, Sister. I believe it is the first time I have seen you return with so little to offer to the cook. She is simply surprised.” Kaie Chattan, her sister, stood near the wall, while Brina hung up a cloak.

  The cook heard and spun around with a snap from her fingers. “What’s this bit of argument for ye? Did ye bring me anything for the table, Miss? Or do ye have blisters on yer hands to prove that ye have been of some use this day?”

  “I brought ye some fish that I caught in a net while tending to the wash.”

  The cook made a scoffing sound beneath her breath. “Well, I still have no liking for yer tone, miss; ’twas full of pride, it was. I am yer elder, and my strict nature keeps every belly full during the winter. Recall that wisdom before questioning my methods of how I make sure there is plenty for all.”

  Kaie offered the cook a nod of respect. “Yes, I know, and I meant no disrespect but only sought to soothe my sister.”

  “She’s to be a nun, and it is best she learns to make do without compliments.” The cook came and took the basket of fish from Kaie. “I mean that kindly, young Brina, for I wish ye no hardship in yer future. It will bring good things to the Chattans to have one of the laird’s daughters serving the church. I thank ye for doing yer duty to us all.”

  There were mutters of agreement from the women working at the table. Their knives never stopped moving, and the snap and pop of crisp vegetables filled the kitchen for a long moment while Brina felt the weight of too many stares on her. They were depending on her to take her place and please God so that blessings might continue to flow to the Chattans. She felt the weight of the responsibility pushing down on her while she suddenly thought of how it must feel to ride off into the night to please no one except herself.

  The idea of doing only what she wanted shimmered like a dream, tantalizing her with the possibility of indulging her whims instead of listening to rules that she must obey.

  Now you are the one thinking insane things…

  Maybe it was time to ask her father to send her to the abbey, for she was rapidly becoming too ill at ease with the duty assigned to her. Perhaps if she left soon, there might be an end to her unease. All the women at the table had husbands and children; it was the babes who her thoughts lingered on the most.

  “I’ll say good night now.”

  Brina forced herself into action. She shook off her melancholy thoughts, determined to keep her chin up. She was Robert Chattan’s daughter, and she was born of Highlander stock too. Her
life would be good because she would make it so.

  The hallways were dimly lit to conserve resources, but Brina discovered that she enjoyed the flickering of candlelight. There was something soothing about the shadows. She grinned, amused by her own thinking. She liked the dim light because no one might see her clearly enough to critique her.

  There was a truth and a solid one.

  She made her way through the winding stone corridors that made up Chattan Castle. In spite of the way they all looked so similar, she knew them well from the years that she had been raised inside of them. What might strike a stranger as an endless series of hallways that all looked the same was something she knew how to navigate from recognizing a stone here and the chip in a door frame. Her own mother had spent two years needing help deciphering the passageways when she had come from the neighboring clan of Hay.

  Her father liked his castle exactly the way it was, and made certain that any repairs to the interior maintained the same look, so that it would continue to be a labyrinth. He claimed that it would be their last defense if the stronghold were ever overrun. The inhabitants would have the advantage of knowing where the escape doors were hidden, while the invaders struggled to find their way.

  Brina stopped when she entered her chamber, a soft gasp passing her lips and alerting the men inside to her presence. It wasn’t fear that prompted the sound, but surprise, for the men were two of her father’s most trusted captains, and her father stood with them. She could not recall the last time her father had entered the chamber that she shared with her sisters, Deirdre and Kaie.

  “Come here, Brina.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  In spite of her recent thinking that it might be time to depart for her future, Brina suddenly felt her belly tighten as she moved across the floor toward her sire. It was very possible her father was there to tell her to go from her childhood home to assume the place that would be hers.

  The day that had just passed suddenly felt too precious, but at the same time she was strangely excited by the prospect of going to devote herself to making sure that justice was carried out. As a laird’s daughter, ambitious to become a mother superior, that position would give her the authority to right wrongs.