Unbreakable Heart (Legend of the King's Guard Book 2)

by Griffin, Kara

  Heath held the coin from their last wager far too long, and it was time someone else took possession. His comrade never suggested a worthy proposition. Liam decided to accept the bet for that sole reason. They had a rule where whoever won the wager got to suggest the next and so it went on.

  He grinned to himself. “I’ll take ye up on the wager, Heath. I say Kerrigan is going to have a lass, aye a sweet daughter.”

  Graeme groaned. “God Almighty, a daughter … What am I to do with a wee lass? I shall never make it through this night, I vow.”

  Time whittled by slowly and all remained silent, waiting for word of the pending birth. Hours passed and caused their uneasiness. Barely a word was spoken betwixt them during the long hours of the night. With morning light streaming through the entrance vines, the more apprehensive they became.

  Liam noticed the cat curled up by the hearth and made himself at home. No one remarked on its presence. He’d put aside more pieces of meat he’d saved during supper, and set them on the floor near the creature. The cat’s purr sounded as it ate up the meal. He retook his place at the table and leaned on his elbow, content to watch the cat clean itself, as they waited and waited … As tired as they were, none would seek their beds in case Graeme needed them.

  Annag came from the antechamber and wiped her eyes. The old lady appeared disheveled, but joyous. “Our Mistress is well.”

  Graeme strode past her and didn’t wait to hear whether he had a son or daughter. Without a word, he entered the antechamber he shared with his wife.

  Annag stood next to the hearth and gazed down at the sleeping feline. “Whose cat is this?” No one answered. She reached down to pet it, but it hissed at her and walked/stretched in his direction.

  Liam used his foot to push him under the trestle table. He didn’t want to be associated with the cat, even though it appeared the animal attached himself to him. He shouldn’t have fed the beast. Now it would never leave.

  “Oh, it be a cantankerous creature. Liam, ye should remove it for it’s a filthy animal.” Annag set about making the morning fare, humming to herself, and in a merry mood.

  Curious about the bairn, Liam nudged Heath. “Are you in agreement on the wager? I say he has a daughter and Liam says it shall be a son.”

  Heath nodded and grinned. “What say you, Annag? Who keeps the coin?”

  She snickered and pointed to Heath. “Ye gets to keep it, Heath.”

  Liam scowled for he was certain that Kerrigan was having a lass. “Come, we shall toast the birth of Laird Cameron’s heir and son.” They raised their cups.

  “To the wee Cameron lad.”

  “To the wee Cameron lad,” Heath and Brodin said in unison.

  Chapter Two

  Kinross, Scotland

  Mackenzie Keep

  It was going to be a glorious day. Makenna Mackenzie hoped her optimism would carry her through the day. The keep was quiet what with most of the men leaving. Her uncle, the laird of the Mackenzie’s, left with many of their soldiers for a meeting near the border of their land. Only a handful of younger soldiers were left to attend to the walls and sentry of the keep. She would enjoy the quiet whilst it lasted for usually one couldn’t hear a thing with all the noise the soldiers made.

  She sat idly sewing a tunic her mother bid her to mend. It was early enough in the day that most hadn’t risen. Ealish, her mother’s maid, stopped in the great hall and set a platter of morning fare on the trestle table. Makenna glanced at her and smiled, then returned to her task.

  “I didn’t see ye, lass. Up and about early this morn,” Ealish said, and bowed her head.

  “I am. I thought to take a few minutes to enjoy the quiet.”

  “The cook is making a delicious pottage. I’ll bring it soon.”

  The servant left and Makenna happily sighed at the silence. Soon her sister would rise and the chaos would begin. Roberta was a troublesome lass. Though Makenna loved her, she was definitely the black sheep of the family. Her sister was the opposite of her in every way. Where Roberta had the fairest hair and bonniest blue eyes, she had the brassiness red hair of their grandmother and green eyes of their father. Many remarked that she should’ve been born with the lively traits her sister possessed, but Makenna didn’t like mayhem or disorder. The quieter the day, the better it suited her.

  Roberta was spirited, but she was also kind. Makenna was content to sit and sew, and attend her mother as a dutiful daughter should. Not Roberta, for she spent far too many hours brushing her hair and tending to her appearance. Her sister liked to ride horses, and recently she’d taken to practice archery with some of the village lads. If their mother found out, her sister would be punished and likely sent to her solar for days on end.

  Her mother entered the hall and spoke with a messenger. The lad handed her a parchment and bowed before leaving. A woeful mien crossed her mother’s face when she read the missive.

  “Mother, what is it? Is all well? Have you received ill news?”

  “I’ve just heard from the MacDonalds. They haven’t heard a word of your father.” She wiped her eyes, and set the parchment on the table.

  Makenna sat forward and placed her sewing aside. “You contacted the MacDonalds, our own enemy? Uncle Iain will be wrath.”

  “I know that, daughter, but I had to do something. I need to know what happened to your father. The MacDonalds have allies in the south, and I thought mayhap they might have heard word of him.”

  She sighed objectively. “You know what happened. He was taken prisoner by the English and was probably executed like many of our clansmen.”

  “Have you no faith, Makenna?”

  “I do, Mother, but we must face the facts. The English would not allow him to go free. He was caught with many rebel soldiers. We’ve heard of the deaths taking place in Londontown. Many of the rebels were hanged, some worse. He likely perished. I don’t want you to hold hope when there is none.” She saddened at that, but she was a pragmatist. These times were hard enough, especially on women who awaited the return of their husbands and sons.

  Ealish entered the hall again and noticed her mother’s sadness. “What’s this, M’lady Thora? Have ye received unfavorable news?” She pointed to the parchment.

  Makenna quickly told Ealish about her mother’s foolishness. “If Uncle Iain finds out she contacted the MacDonald clan he’s going to be angry with us. We must keep in his good graces if we’re to keep a roof over our heads.” She wanted to be wrath with her mother, but couldn’t. As much as it was foolish to contact their enemy, she understood her mother’s heart ached for news–even if that news be unfavorable. Still, their laird promised to see to their protection when her father went missing, and they would do well to keep him appeased.

  “Och, m’lady, the laird will find out what happened to his brother. Leave these matters to men. We shall hear news soon. And you, lass, I doubt the laird could ever be angry with you for he dotes on you as if you were his own daughter.”

  She smiled slightly at that because he’d been kind to her. When her uncle’s wife died, he’d bid them to live in the main keep, and her mother helped to raise and rear his seven sons. Makenna was privileged to reside in the lavish home instead of the small cottage they’d lived in previously. Her uncle did spoil her and she sometimes took advantage. He called her and her sister his lasses. Though he was pleasant to them, he was most formidable toward others. None in her clan or those who lived nearby disobeyed him. Fearsome might be how she’d describe him, but since she loved him she couldn’t put such a word to him.

  “We have many tasks to see to what with Roberta leaving for her wedding soon. We shall be blessed with a peaceful household once she goes. I have begun the packing of her trunks. Will you assist me, Makenna?”

  “I would be pleased to, Mother, except I promised Olivia I would help her with her wedding gown. She says she can’t get the seams straight.” Makenna rose. “If I have your leave?”

  “Of course, my dear. Go and enjoy the afte
rnoon with your friend. Roberta will help pack her trunks. We have plenty of time to attend to it. She’ll not leave until the weather warms, likely days from now.”

  Ealish snorted. “If we can find the wayward lass for she’s already left her chamber. I’ll send one of the lads to go in search of her. We’ll finish her packing by the end of the day, for her groom will soon come.”

  Speaking of grooms disheartened Makenna. She didn’t want to think such woeful thoughts on such a beautiful day, and hurried from the main keep. On her way to Olivia’s cottage, she hastened through the courtyard, barely paying attention to the sentry and other clans people. She didn’t notice the gloominess of the sky or the moisture that clung to the air.

  Her dearest friend would brighten her spirits. Olivia stood inside the coop, feeding the chickens, and filled a basket with eggs that had been recently laid. Makenna dodged the chicken’s pecking beaks and reached her side.

  “There you are. I needed to see you, for my mother and Ealish are in a mood this day. It was all I could do to get away. You said you were having trouble with your gown, something about straight seams …” Makenna laughed when her friend scoffed.

  Olivia and she had been friends before they could walk. Makenna envied her goldish-brown locks and light brown eyes. Her friend often remarked that she was plain, but Makenna would give anything to have her friend’s coloring. Instead, she was cursed with wretched red hair and green eyes. It didn’t help that she had freckles. Of course her uncle said she resembled a fairy and many considered her brazen. She disliked being labeled as such.

  “I’m gladdened you’re here at last. Let us forgo sewing for once. I want to get away and go outside the walls.” Olivia set her basket of eggs outside the coop and took hold of her arm.

  Makenna didn’t have time to protest as she half dragged her away. Her friend often made her do things she wasn’t wont. She wasn’t as daring as her sister or her friend.

  Oliva peeked inside the keep’s entry to see if anyone was about. “Let us hurry to the garrison.”

  She followed her friend and kept glancing behind her to ensure they weren’t caught. The last thing she wanted was to get into trouble with her mother. Makenna took the stairs that led to the garrison below. She kept moving toward the back where the underground tunnels weaved toward the hills.

  Many swore the tunnels were haunted. There were bits of skeletons littering some of the passageways. The bones were said to be the men-at-arms who protected the keep in previous battles. She’d heard the tales around the fires since she was wee, and was always captivated by their bravery.

  An ancient stone cross, covered with moss and dirt, hung on the cave wall. She stopped and covered her heart, for she felt empathy toward the people who gave their lives in protection of the laird and his family. She wasn’t afraid of the dead. The living–that was another matter altogether for many who lived often frightened her. As she got older, she grew out of such larks.

  They slunk through the dark tunnels toward the brightness at the end of the narrowing passageway. The smell of acrid and water brightened her spirits, for she always loved the scent of the caves. Olivia, not so much. She vowed it smelled of rotten eggs and dampness.

  “Come, the water is low enough. I wish to walk along the trail.”

  Makenna nodded and walked behind her and slowed her gait. Usually, she wasn’t bold enough to sneak out of the keep, unless Olivia forced her to. This day, she was willing to do so, just to get away from the despair she’d seen in her mother’s eyes.

  The exit of the tunnel gave way to an impressive loch where the land rose at the mouth of the underpass and kept the waters at bay. She stepped out and peered to the sky. This was her favorite place and where she often dreamt of being when she was stuck inside the keep.

  Olivia yanked her forward by taking her hand. They hurried to the grassy banks and she removed her boots. The ground felt cold beneath her feet, and Makenna tested the waters with her big toe. It was too cold to swim, and her disappointment came with a pout.

  Olivia dipped her hand. “’Tis freezing.” She pulled her cloak tightly around her. “We should return soon for I’m certain it shall snow again.”

  “Not yet, we’ve only just come. I wish to be outside for a wee bit. Let us walk the trail.” Makenna forced Olivia to follow when she took her hand again and tugged her forward.

  They walked toward the hills beyond the great waters and kept going until they reached the highest summit. There, Makenna set her boots down and flopped back upon the high soft grasses.

  “I’m glad you forced me to come.” She lay back and gazed at the grey clouds in the brilliant expanse above.

  “I forced you to come,” Oliva said with sarcasm and laughed. “It’s the only way I can get you out of the keep. Besides, you love this place as much as I do.”

  “Come, sit with me.” She patted the grass next to her.

  Olivia sat and clasped her knees, watching the decline of the hill. “I can see the road. There looks to be men returning.”

  Makenna glanced at the lane far below them. She couldn’t tell if they were her clan’s men or another’s. The men marched along the trail, but they were too far away and she couldn’t discern their colors or symbols. Some rode on horses, but most walked along in a formation. She tilted her head because it was unusual. Her clansmen never marched with such order.

  “I hope my father returns soon. He’s been gone a long time,” Olivia said with a sigh, and clasped her knees tighter. Her brown curls swaying with the breeze. “If only he allowed me to attend the gathering. I would’ve liked to see my grandparents.”

  “It’s too dangerous to travel right now. Your father wants you safe. At least your father might return.” Makenna didn’t want to think of the terrible news they’d received last winter. No word came of how her father fared, but it was probable he was executed like many of their clansmen. She despaired that she would never see him again or knew what befell him.

  Olivia picked at the grasses beside her. “I shall miss you when I leave,” she said solemnly.

  Makenna set a hand on her foot. “Ah, but you will be far too busy to think of me. I envy you, Olivia, for your husband is all a lass could want.”

  Her friend grinned and dipped her chin. “Has your uncle spoken of your betrothal yet? You said you’d ask him when he returned home.”

  She shook her head in answer. “I never got the chance. He left so hastily, I forgot to ask him. There was an offer from the Lennox clan a few years back and Da said he settled the matter. The man’s name is Kincaid that much I was able to learn. It’s been years though and I doubt if the earl’s nephew will come.”

  “With your Da’s captivity, it is probable the betrothal never was finalized. You’ll be an old maid by the time he comes for you. You should ask your uncle to set another.”

  Makenna sighed because she too wanted to settle down and have a husband like her friend and sister. Most of all, she wanted children, lots of bairns with chubby faces. “He cannot, for my Da wrote my mother stating the betrothal was in place. Apparently Da accepted a bride price, so I am to wait.”

  Olivia scoffed. “Await forever it seems.”

  “I’m somewhat grateful for his delay, because the Lennox’s are a brutal clan. At least that is the concession of those I’ve asked. I will ask Uncle Iain to go to the earl and find out if the man still lives. Perhaps he’s perished or ended as my father and is imprisoned.”

  “Oh, I hope it is not so.” Olivia clasped her hand and gave it a light squeeze.

  “Regardless, I must have patience.” Makenna was known for her patience, especially when dealing with her hellion sister, her formidable uncle, and forlorn mother.

  Oliva guffawed. “Well, you are your uncle’s favorite for he only has sons and cannot dote on them as he does you. You’re blessed with God-given fortune, my friend, for your uncle is the most feared man in these parts. But when he’s around you, he turns into a gentle lamb. You’ll have hi
m eating out of your hand before long and will get to choose your own husband if your betrothed is unable to keep the pact.” She plucked a piece of grass and twisted it between her fingers.

  Makenna chuckled. Iain Mackenzie, the laird of their clan, her father’s brother, was intimidating. Her cousins, all males, most nearly grown teased her about her pending nuptials. But she didn’t think for one second that her uncle would choose another groom if it were left to him. He’d told her there was no earnest lord, knight, or other man worth giving her hand to.

  “I do wish our laird returned, for I miss him.”

  Olivia scoffed with a harsh laugh. “Only you would miss him. That’s because he always get you out of doing chores.”

  There was that, but Makenna despaired at his absence. She knew he and several other clans met to discuss the impending wars with England. Once King Robert returned, he’d be anxious to reclaim Scotland. Makenna often sat unnoticed in the great hall when her uncle discussed his position. She was proud he sided with King Robert for it was the most honorable thing to do.

  “Your sister seems pleased with her husband.”

  Makenna smiled for her sister had made a good marriage. “Roberta loves her husband as well she should.”

  “As should we all,” Olivia said.

  “It is not always so,” she retorted. “But you will come to love your husband given time.” Makenna envied her sister’s happiness. She should have been the first to wed being the eldest, but her sister fell in love and that was that.

  “When is she leaving?”

  Makenna returned her attention to Oliva and pursed her lips. Her sister and dearest friend would soon abandon her and travel to their husband’s lands. “Soon I suspect. Her husband should be returning for her now that spring approaches.”

  Olivia pouted. “I must await the spring too before my husband comes. Roberta married to a Maclean. Can you imagine?”

  She laughed because it was somewhat humorous. Her sister was definitely too spirited and sweet to be wed to such a barbarian. Yet Gregor was kindhearted to some degree, at least when it came to Roberta. “He is handsome, I’ll give him that.”