A Highlander Marked by Fate: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highlanders of Kirklinton Book 3)

by Kenna Kendrick

  “Mother?” he cried out, but no answer came.

  He entered the room - all in disarray. Furniture was upturned, and the hangings from the bed had been ripped down. His mother was gone, and he rushed to the window, looking at the courtyard below. The battle was still raging, though only a handful of Elliotts remained to defend the gatehouse and entrance to the dungeons. It was inevitable that all hope was lost, their banners burning, and many men now captive in one corner of the courtyard.

  Rory’s only hope was to try and find the others, but his faith was sinking, and it seemed his worst fears had been realized. His mother was captured, and that surely meant that Evie, Hamish, and the others had been taken too. Where were his brother and uncle? Had they escaped? They would bear no arms, and Rory cursed himself again for his lack of foresight. He should have trusted Margaret and believed her to be telling the truth. He should have stayed and defended his clan.

  He made his way back downstairs, heading now for the great hall. He had no plan in mind, no sense of what he might do, only a burning desire for revenge upon the English. With sword in hand, he was ready to strike whatever came at him, even if it meant death for what was right. But, as he burst into the great hall, another sight met him, which caused him to recoil in horror.

  Isabella Musgrave was sitting on the chair, which had once been Rory’s father’s and now rightfully his. She had a smug and ugly look upon her face, flanked on one side by Niall McCall and on the other by an English captain, whose tunic was splattered with Scottish blood. She laughed at the sight of Rory, as several English soldiers now pounced upon him.

  “Ah, the fool has come. The library passage, was it? We know all about that, a cunning Elliott deception and no doubt useful unless, of course, the plans of the castle are here for the enemy to see,” she said, holding up the parchment that Niall had handed her that morning.

  “Ye will nae get away with this, Isabella Musgrave,” Rory said, struggling in the grip of his captors.

  But she only laughed again and waved her hand as a signal.

  “I have already done so, Rory Elliott. Bring them in,” she called out, and Rory watched as his mother, Evie, Owen, Duncan, and the children were paraded in, their hands tied together.

  “Mother, are ye all right?” Rory called out, but Isabella raised her hand to silence them.

  “They have been well treated. We caught them fleeing like cowards when they knew for certain they were defeated. To think, no Musgrave has ever set foot in this great hall. Here you have toasted my family’s downfall on many occasions, Rory Elliott, but now I shall toast your downfall in this very place,” she said, laughing, as Rory scowled at her.

  “Ye have a traitor at yer side, Isabella,” he said, nodding towards Niall, who smirked.

  “A traitor is one who betrays a cause he once believed in. I had nay love for this clan, nor for yer sad excuse of a father. I came here as a spy, and he was fool enough to let me in. I am nay traitor, I have always been a loyal and good servant of the Musgrave’s,” Niall replied, leaning down to put his arm around Isabella, who leaned over and kissed him.

  “Be careful who ye choose as friends, Niall. The Musgraves have never been trustworthy, and when ye have outlived yer use, I am sure they shall see ye gone,” Rory replied.

  “Nae when we are married, and I am Laird of this castle and all its lands. Nay one will dare oppose us then. We shall be the most powerful family in the borders, and we shall see to it that the name of Musgrave is feared for a hundred miles in every direction,” Niall said, as a cheer went up from the English soldiers.

  Rory glanced at his mother and the others. The children were crying, and Owen and Duncan had their heads bowed as though in silent prayer. Rory looked around for Hamish, but he was nowhere to be seen, and now, Isabella rose and stepped forward, her face fixed in an ugly smirk.

  “But what to do with the brave and noble Rory Elliott? Where were you when we stormed the castle? Following Niall across the moorlands. We knew you would, you are entirely predictable. Can you not see that this entire time I have been playing you all? Biding my time and waiting for your failure?” she said.

  “Ye will never win, Isabella,” Evie said, struggling with the ties on her hands.

  “Oh, dear Evie, I have already won. Is sitting in your father’s chair in this hall not a victory enough?” Isabella laughed triumphantly.

  “Ye are nothin’ but a wicked and spiteful woman, ye deserve the name of Musgrave. Ye are like every one of yer ancestors before ye. The name of Musgrave is a cursed one, and ye are the most wicked of them all, Isabella,” Isla added.

  “Revenge is a dish I like to serve, and it seems that today I have wreaked my long-sought revenge upon you all. No longer will the banner of the Elliotts flutter over Kirklinton as it has for a dozen generations, but instead, the English flag will fly here, the banner of my family,” Isabella said.

  “But yer family is not entirely loyal, is it Isabella?” Evie said, and Rory chanced her a warning look.

  “You speak of my sister, I presume? The sister who even now languishes in your dungeons. Yes, that was a pretty ruse, was it not? You came to believe that she was the traitor in your midst, a perfect deception on our part. You were blinded by your prejudices, and while you were all busy blaming my sister for her treachery, my dearest Niall and I were planning the attack,” Isabella said, her face breaking into a smile, as she turned to Niall and held out her hand.

  He took it, looking around him with a smirk, before parading her around the prisoners one by one.

  “The monks from Lanercost,” he said, as they paused before Owen and Duncan.

  “Yes, their Abbott will find their beds empty this night and their stalls in the chapel unused,” Isabella said.

  “May God forgive ye for what ye have done,” Duncan said, but Isabella only smiled.

  “What I have done is to restore my family’s honor. God will look kindly upon that. You are barbarians, and barbarians fall outside of God’s good grace, that much is certain,” Isabella said, moving next to Evie.

  “Ye disgust me, Isabella,” Evie said, turning her face away, as Isabella caught her by the arm.

  “And you are the wench who stole all I once had,” Isabella said, her hand now going to Evie’s face and forcing her to look up.

  “Ye deserved nothin’ from him,” Evie cried out.

  “Ah, dear Hamish. The fool who believed that siding with the Scots would win him much. Well, it has led to his downfall, and I have found the man I need,” Isabella said, leaning up and kissing Niall upon the lips.

  Next, her attention turned towards Isla, who faced her defiantly. Rory watched, for his mother was not well, but, at that moment, she seemed to grow in stature, as though facing an old and ancient enemy.

  “Isabella Musgrave, ye will nae break our spirit, I promise ye that. We are Elliotts and come from a long and noble tradition. We are warriors, and as my husband defeated ye, so will we.”

  “Such noble words, such foolish words. We have not forgotten what your husband did to Howard Musgrave, nor the broken man of Sir Percy just before his death. You have much to answer for, and you will pay,” she said, shaking her head as she turned her attention now to Rory.

  “And now, the brave young Laird. Barely a day has gone by since your father was buried, and already his legacy has fallen to dust. How does it feel to know the name Elliott, this castle, and clan has fallen under your rule? You are responsible for the end of this once proud and noble line,” Isabella said as she and Niall came to stand before Rory, who faced them defiantly.

  “A line which will continue. Ye cannae take that away, ye willnae crush our spirit, Isabella,” Rory said, and Isabella laughed.

  “But it has been so easy, Rory, or should I call you Laird?” she said, bringing her face down menacingly to his.

  “I am nae afraid of ye nor of yer family. I grew up knowin’ just what the Musgraves were like, and I assure ye that I have nay fear of death at yer hands.
I will nae die like a coward,” he said, as Niall began to laugh.

  “He is as pathetic as the others. Ye should throw him in the dungeons, all of them, alongside yer sister,” he said, as Isabella turned to him.

  “It is I who will decide upon that, Niall,” she said, turning back to Rory and smiling a sickly-sweet smile.

  “If ye harm yer sister, then I swear …” Rory began.

  “Harm her? You are the one who has imprisoned her, and there she shall stay, joined shortly by the rest of you until we decide what to do with you all. My family will make an example of you. I have everything I want, the defeat of the Elliott clan and a man who truly loves me,” Isabella said, turning to Niall, who smiled and bowed.

  “Tis’ my honor to serve ye, Isabella. Perhaps I will bring yer sister here to see the fate which is to befall them all?” he said, and Isabella shook her head.

  “No, but you may have your sport, go and taunt her if you want. I shall play a little longer here,” she said, stepping around Rory and running her hand across his cheek.

  “If ye lay one finger upon her,” Rory began, but Niall sneered.

  “Ye shall dae nothin’ because ye shall be thrown into the dungeons too,” he replied and stalked out of the great hall.

  “You shall find yourself there soon enough, Rory,” Isabella said and began to laugh, as did the soldiers around her.

  Rory could do nothing but stand in despair, knowing there was nothing else to be done but to bide his time and seek a way to rescue Margaret and the others. His sword was gone, his castle seized, his family in chains, but Rory was still an Elliott, and a brave heart beat within his chest. This was not the end, and Isabella Musgrave had not had the final victory.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  All was silent in the dungeons. Margaret huddled in the corner of her cell, listening intently for any sound that might suggest what was occurring in the courtyard above. She listened to the sounds of battle, heard the cries of the Elliotts and the victorious shouts of the English soldiers. There was no doubt that the Musgraves had been victorious, and she heard the cries of the dungeon guards as the English made them prisoners.

  But now, all was quiet, save for the rats who didn’t care if an Elliott or Musgrave flag fluttered over the battlements. Margaret pulled her shawl tightly around her and shivered. Would they even realize she was there? There would be no escaping from the dungeons, whether or not the guards were there, and she imagined herself a grim skeleton discovered many years later.

  Her thoughts were turning more macabre, fueled by the lack of food and sleep, and the searing pain of emotions now building up inside her. She rolled to one said, trying to sit up. Her whole body aching from the cold and damp of the grim dungeon, and she sighed as a tear rolled down her cheek. But, just then, the sound of footsteps echoed on the stairs above, and she rose from the corner, peering through the gloom, as torchlight approached.

  It was Niall McCall looming out of the darkness, his face fixed with an unpleasant grin. He stood before the cell door smiling at her, his head lolled to one side. The sight of him repulsed her, and she turned her back, not wishing anything to do with the man who was responsible for their downfall. He rattled the cell bars, laughing as he did so.

  “Margaret, dear Margaret, how tragic that ye remain here, locked inside this dungeon. What a pretty face ye have, even when ye are starved of food and wantin’ yer freedom. I can help ye, ye know,” he said, pressing his face up against the cell.

  He was an odious and vile man, she hated him and wished Rory had banished him immediately when he had his chance.

  “What has happened? Have the Musgraves taken the castle?” she said, and he smiled.

  “Oh aye, the Musgraves have overrun the pitiful defenses of the Elliotts, and now yer sister sits upon the Laird’s seat in the great hall,” he said, laughing, as Margaret let out a cry of anguish.

  “But they cannot have done, it cannot be? What of Rory and why are you..?” she began before the awful realization of the truth fell upon her.

  “Aye, ye know the truth well enough in yer heart, lass. Did ye really think I was a friend to the Elliotts? The pathetic Laird, his family, this clan? Nay, they are nothin’ to me, nothin’ at all,” he snarled.

  “And you have come here to taunt me, I suppose?” she replied, and he shook his head.

  “Nay, lass, I have come to help ye. I have tried on several occasions to make myself clear to ye, but ye have failed to see that, though now I give ye one final chance,” he said, his face set in an unpleasant smile in the torchlight.

  “I do not need your help. You will find yourself banished soon enough. I am surprised the Musgraves have not run you through. If you can betray one, then you can betray all? I knew it was you who deceived us, what price did they give you,” she asked, curious why he should have free reign of the castle.

  “Ye daenae know, dae ye? There is nay reason, of course, but now is the time that ye should,” he replied, smiling at her.

  “Know what? All I know is that you are a despicable man, a man I cannot help but loathe,” she replied, her back still turned to him.

  “And soon to be yer brother in law, Margaret,” he said, to which she let out a cry of dismay and turned to him in horror.

  “You? You mean … but you?” she gasped, and he began to laugh once more.

  “Aye, yer sister and I are to be married, and I am to be Laird over all the Elliott lands and master of Musgrave castle. The arrangements were made in secret, and ye were nae to be informed. I suppose perhaps she didnae trust ye and was wise nae to dae so. I was to work my way into the Elliotts favor and feed information to the Musgrave’s. Yer arrival could have caused much trouble if ye had recognized me, but ye didnae, and here we are. I have everythin’ that I want, almost everythin’ at least,” he said, his face now turned to a menacing leer.

  “Ye, are nae worthy of my sister, whatever I may think of her,” Margaret said, shaking her head, as she fixed Niall with a defiant stare.

  “Tis’ too late for that, ye fool, but perhaps there will be leniency for ye. Yer sister still loves ye, I am sure of it. I can help ye, Margaret, I can tell her to treat ye with kindness. I can say that ye merely chanced upon the Elliotts and were taken in by them. There is nay need for the rest of yer family to know the things ye did and said. Ye are as much a traitor as ye say I am. Ye betrayed yer family, and ye would have done more if it had nae been for this happy situation,” he said, shaking his head.

  “I need no help from you,” she said, folding her arms and turning her back upon him once again.

  “Then I shall take what I want and give nothin’ in return,” he snarled, the sound of a key turning in the lock.

  Margaret shrank back, ready to defend herself. She would not be cowed by Niall McCall, but he was far stronger than she, and there was no one to cry out to for help. How she longed for Rory to appear, for someone to come to her aid. But there was no one apart from Niall, and now he strode towards her, holding up the torch and reaching out to take hold of her arm.

  “Get away from me, I shall not submit to you. You are nothing but an evil and deceitful man. A man who should be strung up on a rope for his treachery,” she cried.

  But Niall had hold of her, the torch dropping to the floor as his arms embraced her.

  “Come now, Margaret, we shall enjoy a moment together. There is nay one here to hear us,” he said, pulling her into his embrace.

  “What is it that ye want of us, Isabella?” Rory asked as Isabella stepped around him once again, her hand trailing over his tunic.

  “I have not seen an Elliott so close in a long time,” she replied, a smirk crossing her face.

  “And I am glad to say that I have nae seen a Musgrave so close either, the stench is overwhelming,” Rory replied, and Isabella struck him hard across the face.

  “Enough of your insolence, Rory Elliott. Remember to whom you are talking. I am mistress of this castle now,” she replied.

  �
��And betrothed to a man that would betray anyone for the right price,” Rory replied.

  “Niall is loyal to me, he loves me,” she replied, rounding on Evie, who stood her ground defiantly.

  “Ye are unlovable, Isabella. Nay man could ever love ye,” Evie said.

  “Hamish is nothing but a betrayer, a man not worthy of my affections. I see he has run away like the coward he is, leaving his dear wife and children at my mercy. Well, he was a fool to do so,” Isabella said.

  “Hamish is nay a coward,” Evie whispered.

  “Then, where is he?” Isabella asked, her voice now turning soft and menacing.

  Evie fell silent, and Isabella returned to Rory, standing before him and smirking.

  “This is a moment to delight in, Rory Elliott. Never has a Musgrave stood in the hallowed hall of the Elliotts. The bitter years of rivalry are over, and we are left with the victory. You have lost, and I have had my day. This castle, your lands, the peasants, your wealth, and riches are gone, and you are left with nothing.”