Highland Scandal

by Mageela Troche

  “Being a banshee, I told the clan that ye have come to proclaim his death. Thank ye.” She rose to her toes and placed a kiss on her cheek. Rowen’s hand went to her dirk. Around her swirled the scent of a woman living roughly.

  “Ye have a verra bonny lad. Watch over him weel. So many bairns die.”

  Rowen curled her fingers into a fist and struck her in her nose. The woman cried out. Blood flowed from her nostrils. The crazed woman cupped her hand around her nose. Tears ran down her face.

  “Stay away from my boy or I will kill you.”

  “Na if I kill ye first.” She spun around and fled down the castle stairs. Rowen chased after her. Her long legs covered the distance in fewer steps. She flew down the stairs. Her arms scraped against the stone walls. She halted on the edge on the engulfing blackness. She heard nothing but her shallow breathing bouncing off the walls.

  “I must run,” the lairdess called out. The Gaelic words shook the darkness in its cordial tone.

  * * * *

  Lachlan galloped toward the screams of terror coming beyond the clachan’s end. Moonlight dappled the ground and the men racing across it. A gathering of men twisted together. He gave a cry. The raiders turned and sprinted away. . Lachlan drew his claymore. The familiar weight of the sword centered him. He went on instinct, learned from years of training. His hand heated the hilt. The sides of his thumb and forefinger rested against the guard. The quatrefoil design on the hilt’s bottom was another reassuring touch. He’d cut someone down tonight. He planned on Jonty bloodying his sword.

  He cut through the men, arcing his sword. A wounded cry rent the air. Then the clash of swords added to the night song and blended with grunts and groans. Lachlan leaped off his horse. His feet struck the ground. A man rushed forward, screaming the Gordon motto. Lachlan swung his sword. The metal whooshed, cutting into the night.

  Two swords collided. The jolt recoiled through his arm. He leveled the blade and faced the man. His nostrils flared. Lachlan stared into the raging eyes of his enemy. He shoved him back, using his greater weight. Using the space, Lachlan curved his weapon through the air. He felt metal chop into flesh, clashing against hard bone. Then the smell of blood filled the air.

  Another man took his place. He stared a sword length’s distance from Lachlan. The blade’s tip held aloft.

  “Ye’ll be the bastard.”

  “Jonty.” Lachlan knocked aside the weapon with a swipe of his own.

  His curled locks hung about his forehead. His bugged eyes were crazed with fight. He stood inches shorter than Lachlan and lacked his breadth as well.

  “I’ll kill ye.”

  “Good luck.”

  A man recharged Lachlan. Moonlight glinted off his sword. Lachlan jumped from the wild strike. Not wanting to waste time, he sank his blade in the man’s gut.

  Jonty galloped away with his men fleeing behind him.

  “Laird,” Domhnall called.

  Lachlan rushed to his side. A brown haired man younger than Lachlan writhed on the ground, clutching his gut. Blood trickled from the clean cut of a claymore. His thin frame trembled from his impending death. “What is your name?”

  “’Tis Darge’s son,” Domhnall answered.

  “Seamus,” he stammered.

  “Seamus, you follow a man who raids from the people he wishes to rule.” Lachlan lowered to his haunches.

  He lowered his eyes, then peeked up at Lachlan, and then down again. He had the good sense to feel guilt and shame at his actions.

  “We cam fae food. We dinna have anything to eat an…”

  “Speak.”

  “The lairdess needed to get into the castle. We were to get ye out an’ we did.”

  Lachlan cursed. “What is she after?” He raised his sword to stab him through the chest but controlled himself.

  “She heard aboot the banshee. There is talk aboot the boy being of Murray blood.”

  Lachlan cursed. “She wants to go to Murray then.”

  “Aye.”

  “Where is he hiding?”

  “Different places, but among the forest and in the hills.” Death was near to pulling him into its netherworld.

  “How many men follow Jonty?”

  “Twenty. There were more, but they returned to their families upon hearing your offer.”

  “Twenty to take the clan,” Domnall said with a snort.

  “The lairdess is calling upon her clan. The MacKintoshs and the Murrays…tell my da that I’m sorry. He begged me to not to go off with Jonty. I stayed with him because I had given my vow. I had to honor it, aye. Tell my ma I love her.”

  “I shall.” A choking silence clung over the men as Seamus’s lips parted on his final rattled breath.

  “Return him to his mother.” Lachlan sprinted to Wulver. Wulver, sensing his master’s fear, sprung forward, and then galloped down the clachan’s tract to the castle. What did she have planned?

  He called out to the guards and galloped up the motte and through the gates. He wrenched back the reins and leapt off a foamy Wulver.

  Semias stepped out the deep shadows from the hall’s entrance. “My laird,” he said, his speech hurried.

  “Darge’s son is dead. Jonty fled like a coward. I want every entrance and exit of the castle inspected. The Lairdess was here. Find it now.”

  He charged into the hall. The small cluster of servants gasped. Candles and torches blazed about the space. She wasn’t here. He bellowed out to her. Guards raced out of his way.

  Rushing up the steps three at a time, he reached the second floor in two breaths. He swept into the room. Rowen jumped from the chair and ran to him. He grasped her by her upper arms and did a quick inspection. She was wrinkled and her toes peeked out from the edge of her leine. “You are unharmed,” he said in both statement and question.

  “What happened? Did you cut down Jonty?”

  He glanced at the bed and saw Kenny’s head peeking out from beneath the bedding. “Came close,” he said.

  “You are covered in blood.”

  He was sticky from dried blood that blended with his sweat. The foul scent wafted across his nostrils. “The Lairdess, she was here—what did she say?”

  “She is crazed. She spoke as if we shared a friendly visit. The venom she spewed when she spoke of you…I swear I must have been poisoned.” He trailed behind her as she went to the washbowl. She dipped a cloth in the water.

  “That I have always known, especially since my mother was her sister.”

  She paused. Water dripped from the cloth. She collected herself and cleaned his face. “I was unaware of your connection to her.” She brushed the cloth over his cheekbone.

  “It held no importance. Continue.” He sat so she could care for him better. Silly, but he had her to care for him again, and he planned to luxuriate in her tenderness.

  He listened to her retelling the night’s events. Hypnotized, by the dulcet tones that hardened with anger or hesitated in confusion. It was as if they spoke of the hidden parts of themselves once more. She hadn’t told him her greatest secret, though.

  He turned his head sharply and grasped her hand. “What happened?” He ran a fingertip over the blood-crusted cut on her knuckles, which marred her flawless skin.

  “She threatened Kenny, so I struck her.”

  “My fierce highland lass.” He kissed the wounds. “They are still the loveliest hands I have ever seen.” He took the cloth from her and tossed it on the table. “In my blind fury, I left you in danger. Forgive me. It is my fault.”

  She knelt down so she was eye-level with him. “You hold no blame. I am unharmed and so is Kenny. She has told me of her plan. We can use that against her.”

  “This plan?” he asked.

  “She is calling upon Laird Murray. Bran will fight for her if that means killing my son and me, and Murray has no love for me.”

  “That I will not allow. No harm shall come to you.” He cupped her face. Her light lashes, nearly glowing white, shimmered like specks
across her skin. He claimed her mouth. Their tongues glided against each other. He was not gentle. He grounded his lips to hers. Their teeth knocked against each other. She mewled in the back of her throat. He would not give mercy.

  His fingers bit into her hips. Her bone jutted against his calloused hands.

  He tasted blood. “You’re bleeding.” He sucked her lower lip into his mouth. Letting it go, he nipped his way down her neck, leaving red marks on her skin.

  “You taste of salt. I get hard from the smell of you.”

  He gripped handfuls of her leine and ripped it over her head. The rent of the fabric sounded. He tossed it aside. He bent his head and caught a nipple between his teeth. Her muscles contracted beneath his stinging touch. She hissed. He snaked an arm around her waist, feeling her bones squeezed together from his hold.

  “I will learn all your secrets,” he murmured against her full breast.

  Her sinful hips rubbed against him. Half hard already, he cupped her hot center, feeling her juices sticky against his fingers.

  Not willing to wait, he picked her up. Cupping her round arse in his hands, he propped her against the wall where the light failed to reach. He dove into her hot center. She bit his shoulder. . Lachlan was so wrapped up in his red hot desire and his quest to lay her bare to him—body, heart, and soul, that sweet sting never penetrated his awareness.

  He pumped into her. Her nipples rubbed against his leine and sent hot prickles across his chest. He buried his face in her neck. He roared at his explosion. Rowen fell apart within his hold. Usually he pleasured the woman first, but tonight he lacked the strength.

  “Ma,” Kenny’s sleepy voice reached him through his sedated haze.

  “Go back to sleep, son,” Lachlan said. The rush of her inhalation filled his ears.

  Lachlan would protect her, but he needed the truth…to hear it from her lips.

  He yanked her away. “Is there more you must tell me?”

  Her wet lips dried under his gaze. “Nay.”

  A stabbing pain spread through his chest. “I love you.” He stroked her cheek. He loved her still even as she ripped his heart from his chest. She had no trust in him. He had never been this weak.

  * * * *

  Sheena rubbed her belly. “I’m going mad here.” Her belly rippled as her bairn moved. The waving sensation always left her in awe even as it felt as if her body were not her own. The sensation never lasted for long. She had prayed and did all she could to rid herself of the bairn. The guilt of her past acts had her shaking. She couldn’t let this child know of such things. “All shall be well.”

  “Aye, it shall,” Mistress Cullen said as she carried in a tray. “I brought ye food. Ye need to keep yer strength. I na believe the bairn stuck while ye were down there.” She rolled her eyes to the side and titled her head to the side, motioning to the floor below.

  During those black times, she had feared the same. The bairn’s movements had slowed and then ceased for days. At the first movement, she had gasped then wept as her child squirmed. She had been so weakened by relief that she had collapsed on the floor and hadn’t moved even as she lost feeling in her legs. “I shared the same worries.”

  “Semias was wrong to lock ye away in such a place, especially since I saw Jonty with the laird that night.”

  “Did you?” The laird stood in the doorway. He ambled forward with Rowen behind him.

  Mistress Cullen had spun around and rested her hand on her chest. “Aye, Laird. Jonty ken the laird had been sitting in the dark. The men argued. Jonty stormed away, but I saw him come back though.”

  “Did ye tell Semias and the others?” Sheena clutched Mrs. Cullen’s arm.

  “Aye,” she patted Sheena’s hand. “He thanked me and told me na to tell anyone. He’d handle it.”

  “That sithche,” Sheena spat the Gaelic curse. “He wanna me dead.”

  “Where did you see Jonty?” Lachlan crossed the room. His stride was loose yet she sensed an underlying tension from him. She saw the man his father had boasted to all.

  “He stood in the archway that leads to the kitchens.”

  “At night, with the torches extinguished and the ovens banked, ’tis dark and ye canna see if someone is there,” Sheena explained.

  “Aye, she’s correct, Laird. I ha’e been frightened by a few kitchen boys playing tricks on me.”

  “Mrs. Cullen, do not share this with anyone not even Semias.” He gave her his best charming smile and knew it worked as she blushed.

  She nodded. “I’ll na tell a soul. I na tell any of the lasses aboot yer manhood.”

  “Ye can share that information.”

  “Och, ye a wicked mon, but I like it.” She departed from the chamber. Her naughty chuckle remained in the room after she left.

  “Rowen, I told ye.” She clutched Rowen’s hand. The laird tapped his fingers against his leg. “Ye dinna believe her. I dinna kill him. I dinna.”

  “I believe in your innocence. You could not have killed him in that way.” Lachlan made a dismiss face.

  “Meaning,” Rowen asked.

  “The blade went through his neck and came out the front. From what Semias has told me, the blade tip broke off. It probably struck his spine. That takes force. She lacks the power.”

  Sheena shook. Her legs trembled and she crumbled into the chair.

  “Explain to me why Semias is plotting to rid himself of you.”

  “Tell him, Sheena, for it will only help you.” Rowen perched on the edge of the chair.

  Sheena blinked. The words were easy to say, but for the fear she felt knowing he might succeed. “He will kill me.”

  “He will kill you whether you keep the knowledge to yourself or tell me.”

  Sheena swung her horrified gaze at the laird. He loomed over her. No tension tightened his face.

  “I may know much about women, but I never believed that I know their secrets. However, this particular one must be spoken and then I can help you, protect you.”

  She felt the bairn kick, urging her on. “Semias had been the most trusted man of your father. Before I came to his attention, something occurred between them. Ewan spoke of secrets, oddly enough.”

  “He never told you what happened or what the secret was?”

  “Nay, whatever it was, Semias hid it from him.” She shook her head. “He slowly discovered that Semias had more power than he did. Semias would advise him aboot problems and when Ewan dinna agree with him, it seemed that the solution never came to fruition. It was Semias who wished ye to be laird. Put it in Ewan’s head, showing Jonty’s failings and yer triumphs. Not that such a thing is a hardship.”

  “You do not like Jonty,” Lachlan said, the accusatory tone sharp. Sheena decided to treat it as a question.

  “I dinna. He’s a vile mon. If—if ye seen him aboot.” She kept that secret. She dinna ken when she might be needing it.

  Chapter Ten

  The woman thought him a fool. She told a crooked story. Women did have secrets and this one had many that affected him.

  “I am of the same opinion.”

  She hid her thoughts well. He still gleaned the quick tells that she couldn’t halt. From her pregnancy, her leine fitted tight across her back. He watched her shoulder blades roll into their normal position.

  “Then,” he prodded.

  “Ewan started to go mad. He’d be muttering to himself, saying, ‘She whispers in my ear at night.’ Semias thought it was me plotting against him.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “He told me. He cornered me one day, told me that I was some fairy. I laughed in his face. Fairy, indeed. Truth was I could na be whispering in his ear at night, the mon never came to bed. He’d sit in the hall.”

  “Why the hall?” Rowen asked.

  “He said he was waiting. For what, I didna ken. I ken that Ewan planned to rid himself of Semias and told him that he’d bury his sword in his neck so he could na speak since he liked to keep secrets. That was two days before
Ewan was killed.”

  “That does not seem a very pressing reason to kill you,” Rowen said. “There must be more.”

  “’Tis all I ken. That mon plans to hold onto his power through ye, Laird.”

  Lachlan wanted to laugh.

  “What will happen to me?” She looked at Rowen who had her gaze upon the laird.

  “You shall remain here. You will have a guard at your side at all times.”

  “I canna leave?”

  “To where? Your home has been rented by another family. You cannot plant or pay rent. Nay, here you shall stay. Besides, you will be safer.”

  “I dinna think so.”

  Lachlan shrugged. He had no care for her way of thinking. She played games that had deadly results. He would learn her secrets and the truth.

  “You may join us at tonight’s meal.” Lachlan held out his hand to Rowen. She took his hand and departed from the chamber. He gave orders to her guards and started down the stairs, with Rowen before him.

  “There is much she keeps to her breast.”

  “That is what I need to know. Do you see how everyone accuses another of murder?”

  “It is a sin killing your laird. That sacred bond…” Rowen shook her head. “Why did your father go mad?”

  “I do not know, but I believe it was poison. Perhaps, there was more than one who wanted him dead and one was impatient.”

  “Laird,” the castle lad said, peering from behind Rowen. “Laird Cameron is approaching. Semias allowed him entrance.”

  “Let’s greet Cameron and learn the reason for his visit.” He wiggled his brows.

  “Clan Cameron is ally to Murray. You know that.”

  “That is the reason I’m bring you along otherwise I would send you to your chamber.”

  “You truly believe I would go willingly?”

  “Never. I imagine I would have to throw you over my shoulder and lock you up. Oh, a few guards would be required as well.”

  Semias stood beside the laird’s chair. His hazy eyes narrowed on Rowen so she only saw the graying white shine between his lashes.

  “Laird, ’tis not proper to have Mrs. Murray here.”