His Highland Pledge (The Clan Sinclair Book 4)

by Celeste Barclay

  Uisge-beatha, the water of life, I ruddy well need this. Thank God for Uncle Hamish. Why the hell does everything hurt so damn much? Och, ye eejit, ye were thrown from a horse that stands nearly seventeen hands tall.

  “Magnus, are ye listening to me? Where have ye gone now?” Hamish shook his shoulder.

  Magnus tried to shake his head but thought he would cast up his accounts again. He rolled to his other side and gradually made his way to his knees and then feet. He swayed but remained upright. He ran his hand over the back of his head and found a cut and blood that was already drying into a tangled clump. He raised his other arm and saw the blood on his sleeve.

  “Someone dinna like me vera much.”

  Hamish grunted, “Ye could certainly say so. I would venture to say a certain Lowland lord isnae too keen on ye swooping up his bride to be.”

  Magnus growled, and then groaned as his whole body throbbed.

  “Can ye ride?”

  “Do I really have a choice?”

  “Nae really.”

  “Where is Sealgair?” Neither Magnus nor his uncle missed the irony that the horse that threw him was name Hunter. His uncle smile but it looked more like a grimace.

  “Magnus, he is fine.”

  “That isnae what I asked.” Magnus turned to look around but could barely see as black dots danced before his eyes.

  “He took an arrow in the rear flank. When ye fell, the saddle also came off. Magnus, ye need to ken that the girth was nearly severed. It was done at the top where it isnae easy to see but would come free when ye either galloped too long or in this case when Sealgair reared and then bucked. It was the saddle that caused ye to be thrown. They also shot him after he threw ye. We found three small burs were on the underside of the saddle. The shifting saddle must have pressed them in, and then yer speed only made it more painful.”

  Magnus shook his head to clear the dots and took several deep breaths. The more his anger grew, the clearer his mind became. He spotted his horse and walked purposefully to the enormous animal that had never thrown him before. They saw each other through countless battles with no incident such as this. Magnus cooed to the animal as it shied away from him. He held out his hand until Sealgair knickered and came to but his head against Magnus’s chest. Magnus hugged the animal and whispered in its ear before moving his hands along the animal’s flanks on one side and then the other until he came to the wound. It was not serious, for which Magnus felt immense relief, but it was there nonetheless. Someone had not only shot him but shot his horse too. Nearly as important as his sword, a horse to a Highlander was his lifeblood in battle. Trained since he was a colt, only Magnus ever rode him, and most could not handle him. His horse stomped his foot and let out a soft whinny before looking back at him.

  Magnus walked back to his head.

  “Can ye carry me home, ma lad?”

  The horse seemed to understand and nodded his massive head.

  Magnus looked around but did not spot his saddle. He gathered the reins and struggled to pull himself up onto his steed’s bare back.

  “The king insisted that the saddle be taken back to the castle for further examination. He sent guardsmen into the woods to look, but I doubt they will find anyone. The mon or men were stealthy, except they used a rather distinct fletching. They didna plan well. It willna take long to deduce whose they are.” Hamish rode alongside Magnus as he could only manage a walk and then barely a trot without feeling like he would drop under his horse’s hooves.

  “So, the king kens of what happened?”

  “Aye, and that bastard Hay was beside the king the entire time. Bagged a boar of his own.”

  “Convenient.”

  Magnus thought about the arrows that flew past him and the one that hit his arm. He never saw those markings before, but he recognized the type of bird from which they came. While it was quite a common bird, the distinct red of the kestrel’s feathers was not common on arrows because they were easily spotted among trees. Magnus would discover the responsible party and who fired the arrows. He would settle the issue, one way or another.

  Magnus, Hamish, and the other Sutherlands and Grahams approached where the king waited. Hay was to his left, and a dead boar lay at his feet.

  “Magnus, I heard you took a spill. How fare you?”

  “Well enough sire,” Magnus spoke faintly but with steel laced in his voice that no one missed. The king raised a brow.

  “I understand the fall injured you. Perhaps you should return to the keep and have the healer attend you.”

  Magnus knew the prudent thing would be to agree and leave the hunt, but there was no chance, short of being ordered by the king, that he would leave now that Hay stood once again gloating before him.

  Magnus looked at the scrawny boar before looking up and grinning broadly.

  “Nae able to find this wee one’s mother or father? They usually arenae far from their bairns.”

  Hay grasped the hilt of his sword but did not draw it.

  “I do not see you with a catch. I do not see you even with a saddle. Not much for a horseman.”

  “Now, now, Lord Archibald. You know just as I do that Sinclair was thrown from a tampered saddle, and you also saw him maneuver that monstrous beast without one.” The king paused and looked over Magnus’s shoulder. “Ah, here comes his catch. I do believe that is the largest buck I have ever seen in these parts. Well done, Magnus. We heard how you were strong enough to shoot over all the others to reach this buck. I would say, that was an impossible shot, however, it does not surprise me that only one of you Sinclairs could accomplish such a feat.”

  Magnus turned to look over his shoulder as a couple of Sutherlands he had not noticed earlier carried his stag on two logs between them. When they arrived, they lowered the deer carcass next to the boar. The difference in size was ridiculous, and Lord Archibald was no longer gloating.

  “Shall we mount up? I see no need to continue after such success. We shall have to discover what the others bagged.”

  Magnus returned to his horse, and despite his injuries, found it easier to mount this time. He pulled the whisky filled wineskin from his uncle’s saddlebag and took several long draws from it.

  “Sinclair, ride with me.”

  It did not escape Magnus that the king used his given name only when he allowed his true concern to show. When he attempted indifference, he resorted to Magnus’s clan name. It did not bother Magnus one way or another, but he had seen how it nettled Hay.

  “Did you, per chance, get a glimpse of the man who shot at you?”

  “I believe there to have been more than one, Sire, as the arrows came from different directions. Whoever it was, used rather unusual feathers. It should not be too challenging to determine who did it or their employer.”

  Magnus kept his eyes straight ahead but knew he was getting under Hay’s skin.

  “It could very well have been poachers. They are always a problem on the king’s land when there is so much to hunt.”

  “Dinna be daft, mon,” Hamish interjected. “Ye really believe that anyone would be barmy enough to poach while the king rides out to hunt? Ye ken that isnae close to the truth.”

  “Who do you think it might be, Laird Sutherland?”

  Hamish looked at Magnus before addressing the king.

  “I would venture to say someone isnae happy that Magnus has arrived at court.”

  Hay snorted before saying, “There are plenty of people who are not pleased he is here. He brings the shame of the Sinclairs to court, trying to beg their way out of just desserts. Just like a Highlander.”

  “Enough! You go too far this time, Lord Archibald. I have already found in their favor, and perhaps you are not aware, but each of the Sinclairs is my godchild. I was at each of their christenings.” The king glared at Hay until he ducked his head.

  “You were saying, Sutherland.”

  “Och aye, I would say it was someone who feels threatened by Magnus’s presence. Perhaps someone wh
o worries he will be on the losing end.” Hamish could not have been more obvious had he spelled out Archibald Hay’s name.

  “That very well may be, but everyone who rode out is accounted for. I know who I rode with.” The king gave Magnus and Hamish a pointed look before an almost imperceptible tilt of his head towards Hay.

  “Yer Majesty, do ye think someone trying to do away with me would do so himself? I would think he might try to keep his hands clean.”

  The king only looked at Magnus before they all picked up their speed to a gallop. Magnus held on and gritted his teeth, hoping he would neither vomit nor fall.

  Chapter Ten

  The hunters returned to the castle and entered the royal gardens to reach their chambers. Magnus and his extended family followed at a distance. Despite their enmity, the MacDonnells walked with Magnus. Everyone had heard of his accident, and while they might be far from allies at home, they were at court. The MacKinnons, Grahams, Grants, Sutherlands, and MacDonnells let the larger group drift ahead of them before turning into the hedge maze.

  “Let us nae clishmaclaver,” said Laird MacDonnell who kept a healthy distance from Magnus. The memory of Magnus and his brothers’ retaliation for his unwitting part in their sister’s abduction a couple years earlier was still fresh.

  “We all ken someone tried to kill ye. I would venture to say it was Hay or Fraser. We all remember that ye and the Fraser lass were sweet on one another, and they have seen ye speaking and dancing with her. I would put ma last penny on them if nae one then both.”

  There were several nodding heads. As the men looked around.

  “Are ye sure it wasna ye, MacDonnell. Ye dinna seem to be winning the king’s favor. I hear the king has already found in the Sinclairs’ favor,” Laird Edward Grant spoke up. “It wouldnae be beyond the stretch of the imagination that ye’re responsible.”

  “Thank ye for having such faith in ma intelligence, Edward,” the MacDonnell snapped. “I came to court to resolve this feud nae bring the entire Highlands down on ma head or the king’s wrath. If I wanted to kill him because of sour feelings, I would have done it before he even reached the court, or I would wait until we left. I wouldnae do it here with the king’s dungeon so close.”

  There was more agreement and head nodding.

  “We just wanted to be sure,” added Laird Thomas Graham.

  “So, does that mean we are all in agreement that the most likely culprits are Hay and Fraser?” piped in Adam MacKinnon, laird of his clan.

  “I suppose we are,” Magnus agreed. “That doesnae do us much good, though, if he manages to send someone else to finish the job.”

  “Is the lass the reason for all of this, lad?” Magnus felt Laird Graham’s hand on his shoulder. He had known the man as long as he had the king, practically since birth.

  “Aye. She was ma wife when her father took her from me, and she is ma wife still.”

  “But that must have been a handfast. It’s over by now.”

  Magnus growled.

  “It wasna ever over for either of us. Besides, she has wed me by consent since then. We’ve pledged ourselves to one another. I pity the mon who stands between us this time.”

  Hamish held his hands up in surrender.

  “Easy, lad. Ye dinna need to convince any of us. We understand yer vow, and we ken yer honorable. We arenae questioning that. We must figure out how to get ye free of Hay, so ye can wed the lass in a kirk. Ye ken her father isnae going to let a handfast or even a marriage by consent stand. We are at court. He will have the king set it aside or petition the bishop to do it. The bishop willna say nay.”

  “Can I ask ye a delicate question, Magnus?” Laird Grant stepped forward.

  Magnus looked up at the older man and knew what the laird would ask him.

  “Aye, I have. We have. Then and now. And, aye, there is a chance.” He would save everyone the embarrassment of hearing the questions.

  “Then it shouldnae matter much what any of them want. She is yer wife,” added Laird MacKinnon.

  “Ye ken that, I ken that, we all ken that, but that is because we are Highlanders and respect our ways. The king conveniently forgets his roots,” Magnus finished on a whisper as he looked around. “If it doesnae serve him, then he will conveniently forget what constitutes a marriage among our clans. Even the bluidy Frasers ken, but they have been at court long enough to pretend they arenae just like us.”

  “That may be. We canna change Donald or Maeve. They are two peas in a pod when it comes to their social climbing. We can only change how things stand for ye and the lass,” the Graham stated.

  “We are back to clishmaclavering. We have another day of hunting. Sinclair, will ye be able to join us?” MacDonnell was looking around as though the hedges might be listening.

  “Ye can damn well count on it.”

  “Then we ride together. We dinna flank them like today. Let the eejit bastards ride as they want. It is us against them, just as it always has been. The time for civility came to an end when one of them tried to kill one of us.” Laird MacDonnell looked Magnus in the eye. “Dinna think this means I like ye. And dinna think it pleases me the king has found in yer favor, but I will say Alan got just as he deserved. I count ma blessings daily that Beatris and that bitch, Sorcha, are here instead of aggravating me at ma keep, and I am sorry for what happened to yer sister.”

  Laird MacDonnell extended his arm to Magnus, and they shook. Neither offered implicit trust, but they were more alike than different. They would stand together against an outside foe. In this case, it was one Lord Archibald Hay.

  The men nodded and silently exited the hedge maze only to find themselves within the buzzing swarm of ladies-in-waiting. Magnus’s eyes saught Deirdre who sat with her mother.

  That is why she was paroled. To do her duty to the queen, and her mother is her jailor.

  Magnus tried to move through the garden without drawing much attention to himself, but Mary Kerr was having none of it.

  “I heard someone tried to kill you. I see they failed. More’s the pity,” came her strident voice.

  “Mary!” scolded the queen.

  Deirdre’s head whipped around at the sound of Mary’s comments.

  “It seems that I shall live to see another day. More’s the pity that yer courtly nobles dinna ken how to do the job properly.” Magnus stepped close to Mary and examined the feathers in a brooch pinned to her shoulder. “Ye seem partial to the kestrel’s feathers. Perhaps a mon should have been sent instead of a lad. Then ye wouldnae be so disappointed.”

  Deirdre stood from her bench and took two steps forward before her mother grasped her wrist and squeezed. Her face went white when she saw the blood on his leine. She saw it on his sleeve and then his collar.

  Bluidy witch’s tits! Damn! Sorry, Holy Father. What the bluidy hell happened to him? Why does ma mother have to be here? Och that’s right, she’s nae letting me out of her sight. She is right to nae trust me because if I had ma druthers aboot me, Magnus and I would ride out this vera moment.

  Deirdre glared at her mother, openly hostile for the first time in her life.

  “Let go of me, Mother, or I shall make an almighty scene,” Deirdre hissed.

  Her mother held tight.

  “It isnae like nay one kens he bedded me. I’m a soiled dove. What does it matter now? Ye’ve sold me to Hay, and he’s paid. There arenae any returns for either party.” She pulled her arm loose.

  By the time she freed herself, Magnus was already walking past with his uncle and several other men she recognized but did not know. He looked at her, and his eyes softened even though he gave a tiny shake of his head.

  “Later,” he mouthed.

  Her mother was behind her straight away.

  “See, ye silly chit. He’s had ye and is done with ye. He was done with ye the moment ye spread yer legs for him. Ye should count all the blessing God’s given ye that yer father and I didna turn ye out.” Deirdre’s eyes opened wide, and her mother stepped ba
ck and looked around. In her anger, she slipped back into the burr she had covered up all those years ago when they arrived at court.

  Deirdre spun and stalked from the garden. She no longer cared who saw her ungraceful exit or what her mother had to say.

  Magnus opened the door to his chamber and a foul odor struck him like a wind gusting from the North Sea. His eyes swept the room before he entered with caution. It took but a moment for him to identify the cause of the rank smell. A dead blackbird with its neck snapped lay in a puddle of blood on the center of his bed. He looked around to see if any note was left or if anything else was disturbed in his chamber, but all was as he left it.

  He spun around and pulled a dirk from his belt when he heard someone press on the outside handle of his door. Ready to launch himself at the intruder, it shocked him to see Deirdre enter. He hastily resheathed his dagger and pulled her into the room before checking the passageway.

  “Lass, what are ye doing here? What if someone saw ye?”

  “I dinna care anymore. What happened to ye?” Deirdre’s tentative hand ran over his injured arm and then stepped around him to examine his head. “Dear God, Magnus, ye could have been killed. Yer head should have been stitched.”

  “It isnae bleeding anymore. I’ll be just fine once it’s cleaned. Ye shouldnae be here.”

  Deirdre froze. She looked around the chamber and then glared at him.

  “Why would ye nae want me here?” Suspicion dripping from her voice.

  Magnus looked down at her as if she sprouted a second head. He planted his feet and crossed his arms.

  “Ye think after seven years of celibacy and having ye in ma arms every night, now is when I would stray? I canna believe ye could think that of me.”

  Magnus turned away and went to the washstand. Deirdre did not miss the look of anguish written across his face before he walked away. She went to stand beside him and dipped the linen into the bowl Magnus just filled with water. She lathered soap into it, and then pressed his shoulder down. She moved to the opposite side of the table and bowl. She tenderly washed the dirt and blood from Magnus’s hair. She rinsed out the cloth and turned it over before lathering it again. They were silent as she methodically washed his hair and then the wound. When that was as clean as she could get it, she picked up another cloth, doused it, and lathered it. She pulled up his leine.