Highland Chieftain

by Hannah Howell

  Sir Simon began to speak to the laird. Bethoc listened for a while then turned to Laurel. The rags she wore were no longer needed to hide in and she suspected Laurel would like to put something else on. She could do with a change as well, as four dunkings into the water, the dress left to dry on her body, had left it shapeless and itchy. They would both feel better after a change. Perhaps Lorraine would as well, she thought.

  “We need to wash up and change,” Bethoc said.

  Laurel looked down at herself and grimaced. “Och, aye. It was useful, I think, even when it went to rags but now I want it gone. Didnae save me though. Nay, it needs to go. It and the smell of the prison. And those men,” she whispered, and smiled faintly when both Bethoc and Lorraine grasped her hands. “How do we get away?”

  “Ask,” Bethoc said, and stood up. “We are going to Laurel’s to clean up, if ye would be so kind as to excuse us,” she said to the laird.

  Robbie glanced at Callum who nodded. “I will go with ye.”

  The three women got up, spoke politely to the laird, and followed Robbie out. The man seemed to have elected himself the guard of everyone, Bethoc thought with a little smile. And he could be very insistent about it.

  “Do ye have to stomp around after everyone?” she teased him.

  He gave her a sideways glance, looking down at her. “Seems a reasonable thing to do.”

  She laughed and shook her head as Laurel led them to her home. It was a small, neat house made of stone with a fine garden in the back. Inside it was tidy but not richly furnished. Leaving Robbie to watch the door, all three women went to the room in the back of the house that Laurel said she had set aside for bathing. They heated water and talked as they prepared the first bath for Laurel. As they scrubbed her hair, rinsed it, and scrubbed it again, Laurel was revealed to be a redhead. Bethoc decided the woman was a lot more stunning than she had first realized.

  Lorraine went next and Laurel disappeared to collect gowns for them to wear. By the time it was Bethoc’s turn, she nearly tore her own gown in her rush to undress. Laurel returned with gowns for each of them. When Bethoc put on the one chosen for her, she was pleasantly surprised to find that it fit and looked at the taller Laurel in curiosity.

  “My younger sister visited us for a wee while last summer,” Laurel said, and then smiled. “It was nice. For a short while I enjoyed being the lady of this house and my husband was on his best behavior.”

  Bethoc patted her on the arm then frowned as she tied back her damp hair. “I wonder how the men are doing convincing the laird of what his son has done.”

  “He was certain of it the moment they told him,” said Laurel. “The decision they seek now is what to do next.”

  * * *

  The laird was heartbroken but holding up well, Callum decided. The man never argued anything they said and Callum kept waiting for the man to explode in fury and refuse to believe a word. He did not. He knew he had a bad one but had obviously held out a hope that whatever he had seen in his child would never manifest or would just be petty things, easily ignored. It all had to be unbearably hard news to bear, however.

  Just as Sir Simon asked where the young man was, he walked confidently into the hall. It surprised Callum a little that the young man was so plain, so ordinary, and not just because, at sixty, the laird was still such a strong, imposing figure of a man. Two other young men stepped in and halted as they studied Callum, Sir Simon, Uven, and the magistrate all seated there near their father. They showed a curious caution that was missing in young Angus Keddie. Despite how much sympathy he felt for the laird, he was going to enjoy crushing the cockiness the young man wore so proudly.

  “Who are these men?” asked Angus, flicking a dismissive hand toward them.

  “These men are more important than ye think,” said the laird in a hard, cold voice that quickly put a dent in the young man’s confidence. “That one”—he pointed at Sir Simon—“is Sir Simon Innes, laird of Lochancorrie, and do ye ken what he used to be called? The King’s Hound.” Angus paled a little but his father did not hesitate in continuing the introductions. “Sir Callum MacMillan, laird of Whytemont, Sir Uven MacMillan, and I believe ye ken our magistrate. Seems your wee game has been uncovered, lad.” He patted his eldest son’s hand and that man quickly left the room.

  “What game are ye speaking of?”

  Callum had to give the young man praise for how well he acted shocked. He noticed the other two young men had edged their way into the room, hands on their swords as they eyed Angus warily. If the fool was in some war with his father he had failed miserably in gaining any support from his brothers, for Callum had finally seen the familial resemblance that marked them as the laird’s sons. He would not be surprised to learn the young man had long been a thorn in his brothers’ sides.

  “It appears there has been a rash of husband killing in our village. The wives have been taken up for the killings. So far three have been hanged. ’Tis odd that I heard naught of this, aye? But, I didnae. Ne’er heard a whisper of their crimes, their troubles, or their fate. Wonder why that is. Magistrate?” He glanced at Walter.

  “I was informed by your son Angus that ye had been told, even that ye felt certain the women were guilty,” Walter answered quietly, the paleness of his face telling Callum that it would be a long time before he forgave himself for the hanging of those three women.

  “Weel, why should ye hear of all these troubles, Father? Ye have sons to deal with such petty problems.”

  “I doubt those women thought them petty problems,” said Walter.

  The look Angus gave Walter was so full of spiteful menace, Callum was glad they would soon take Angus down. Even if Walter was too sunk in guilt to see it, Callum did, and a quick look at Sir Simon told him that man had seen it too. The way the laird had narrowed his eyes told Callum the man was also aware of the threat. The youth had grown overconfident but he suspected killing six men and having three women already pay for some of the murders had made him cocky. That and he put too much faith in being the laird’s son giving him some shield against actually paying for his crimes.

  “They killed and they paid for it. All of them confessed.”

  “Nay,” said Walter, anger beginning to harden his voice, “the three ye had brought in recently are crying nay and naught changes that.”

  “They will. The sheriff can be verra persuasive.”

  “Aye,” said Callum, “tying a lass to a bed and having three or four men use her as they will can make a lass confess to anything.”

  A glint came into Angus’s eyes that told Callum the man would have enjoyed being part of it and he ached to strike him down. The image of Bethoc tied to that bed, the sheriff between her legs ready to take her, was not one he could easily forget. Any man who revealed an interest in such a thing deserved to be pounded into the dust.

  “Cease picking at Walter, Angus, ’tis beneath ye, though I begin to believe little else is. Ah, and I believe this is what I need,” the laird said as his eldest returned looking enraged, with several papers in his hands.

  Silence reigned as the laird read the papers, though he kept one hand on his eldest’s arm. Callum judged that wise as the man looked eager to strike at Angus. The other two brothers edged closer, reading the papers over their father’s shoulder. The way their eyes widened and they glared at Angus made Callum think they might know, or knew, someone mentioned.

  “Ye killed David,” said the laird, and he stared at his son as if he did not know him.

  “What? Nay! I ne’er killed anyone. What are ye talking about? David was my friend.”

  “Then ye had your hirelings do it, but he is dead all because ye wanted Boswin Cottage. Tell me, have ye already moved in or have ye set up a mistress there?”

  “Nay, I didnae kill David.”

  “Then why do ye have the deed to Boswin Cottage? Is that why ye also have the deeds to Colin Knox’s and Ian Fearn’s farms? Ye killed David”—he paused as Angus stuttered a denial—“or
had him killed. Colin and Ian as weel. Then ye had the sheriff take their poor wives and accuse them of murder and then ye saw to it that they hanged. What happened to David’s bairns?”

  “I dinnae ken what ye mean. Why should I ken what happened to them?”

  Angus cried out and fell to the floor when his father suddenly rushed at him and backhanded him, demanding, “What happened to his bairns?”

  “I dinnae ken.”

  The laird looked at his other two sons who had come in with Angus. “Find them and find out if Knox and Fearn had any bairns. It cannae give them back their parents but we will make certain they are raised weel, cared for until they are of an age to take possession of what this worm I bred tried to steal.”

  “Nay, Da, I didnae . . .” Angus began as his two brothers rushed off.

  “Shut it. And ye nay longer have the right to call me Da. Nay longer have the name. Ye are nay my son. Ye are nay a Keddie and ye nay longer reside at Dunburn. As soon as I replace the sheriff ye are his problem.”

  “I could hang!”

  “Aye, ye could. Right now I wouldnae lift a finger to stop it.” He walked back to his seat as his eldest son dragged Angus off. The laird stared at the papers for a moment before looking at Sir Simon. “The other women are freed, aye?”

  “Aye,” replied Sir Simon. “The sheriff and his guards as weel as two of the five men who did the killing are locked up tight. A big fellow named William is running free but I doubt he will be hard to find. I am sorry this trouble has come to ye but it had to be stopped. As for the two women now freed whose husbands were killed, weel, ye will have no trouble o’er that.”

  “Ah, they dinnae grieve the loss.”

  “They werenae verra good husbands, nay. And I am now done with this so I willnae be pressing ye to do what may be impossible for ye.”

  “That is verra good of ye. Dinnae fear though. Whate’er happens he will ne’er be unwatched again.”

  “I think that is best.” Sir Simon stood up and the others followed as they all shook hands with the laird.

  When the laird went to Walter, he clasped him by the shoulders after shaking his hand. “I am truly sorry, Walter. I picked ye as a magistrate because I kenned ye were a deeply honest mon, one who could be fair, honest, e’en kind.”

  “I sent three innocent women to their deaths.”

  “Nay. Nay ye didnae. My son sent them there. Ye did naught but what ye should when given a preponderance of proof by men ye trusted, the sheriff, his men, e’en Angus. Remember that. They lied, they twisted justice. Ye have naught to feel guilty about. Put the blame where it belongs.”

  “Aye, my laird.”

  They were almost out the door when Walter suddenly stopped and turned back. “My laird? Ye will be in need of a new sheriff. If I might venture a suggestion, I think Artair MacReavie would be a good one.”

  “Aye, I will consider it. Thank ye, Walter. God’s speed.”

  “Jesu, that was hard business,” said Uven once they were outside.

  “Nay as hard as it could have been,” said Sir Simon as he mounted his horse. “The mon listened and believed. We were fortunate that the laird had already seen what evil lived in his son. His brothers kenned. Each one of them. Even before we spoke they had guessed who we had come for.”

  “Aye, a good mon, the laird. He didnae deserve this blow.”

  No one argued and they made their way to Laurel’s house only to find that Lorraine and Bethoc had left. Hearing that Bethoc had talked of stopping at her house, Callum rode there. He suspected Walter would be visiting Lorraine when Sir Simon and Uven headed back to the cave. The thought that all he had to do was send Robbie off and he might have some time alone with Bethoc caused Callum to nudge his horse into a faster pace.

  * * *

  “I could have done that,” Robbie said from his seat at the table.

  “Kerr was my father in the only way he kenned how, and this needed cleaning up. I dinnae think the lads should see it.” Bethoc scrubbed the last of the blood off the floor, tossed the scrubbing brush into the bucket, and set back on her heels. “Why would any person do such things to another person?”

  “They wanted him to tell them something. Pain and fear loosen the tongue,” Robbie replied, and drank some ale.

  “So poke at him a wee bit, threaten to cut his belly and pluck his innards out one by one, or mayhap cut off another bit he was so proud of.” She glared at Robbie when she saw he was grinning.

  “Bloodthirsty wee wench,” he said. “What they did meant less blood, but plenty of pain and fear. I suspicion they wanted him to tell them where Cathan was and when they didnae get what they wanted they turned ye o’er to the sheriff who was more than willing to add ye to their game.”

  Bethoc shook her head as she stood up and stretched. “Six men dead, mostly innocent men, and three innocent women hanged. Laurel and Lorraine’s husbands were nay good men, but they are dead and didnae really deserve that. The same with Kerr, although he did redeem himself in the end. All dead and they would have hanged us, too. For what? These places are nay worth that much.”

  “All together, with mayhap a few more added to the lot, aye, they are.”

  “Mayhap, but I still dinnae understand how anyone could do such a thing.”

  Robbie had no answer, and she took the bucket of bloody water into the back garden and tossed it under the bushes. To make certain no stain remained, she got a fresh bucket of water from the well, washed her hands clean in it, and then tossed that under the bushes. Pleased that the boys would not have to confront Kerr’s blood when they came home, she walked back inside only to discover Callum sitting where Robbie had been. A quick glance around revealed no sight of Robbie.

  She looked at Callum and he was grinning, a definite glint in his eyes. Bethoc managed to subdue a blush but her heart picked up its pace. He smelled of cinnamon and she knew what that meant. A part of her was not sure it was wise to give him what he so clearly wanted yet a bigger part of her was very eager to do so.

  Callum stood up and slowly walked over to her. “We are actually alone. No boys, no little girls, no sheriff and his men, no ladies. Wonder what we should do with this precious time?” He reached out and pulled her into his arms.

  “I believe I ken what ye think we should do,” she said, making no effort to break free.

  He kissed her. It was a slow, seductive kiss and Bethoc swiftly gave in to the power of it. She curled her arms around his neck, bringing her body up hard against his. He lifted his head enough to kiss her neck then nip at the lobe of her ear and she shivered with pleasure.

  “Where is your bed?” he asked, his voice soft, deep, and husky, caressing her.

  Bethoc pointed toward her small bed. He kissed her as he walked her backward toward it. His kiss was still seductive yet there was an increasing ferocity to it. Something inside of Bethoc rose up to meet that ferocity and she reveled in it.

  When the back of her legs hit the edge of her bed, she gave a little squeak of surprise. Callum chuckled softly, lifted her up into his arms, and set her down on the bed. Even if she had felt inclined to say anything there was no time to do so before he joined her on the bed.

  “Your leg,” she said as he took off his shirt.

  “Is fine.” He began to undo her gown. “Has been fine for a while now. Thinking it is healed.”

  “I could check the bone for ye.”

  “Later.” He looked at her breasts, the tips hard and beckoning to him. “Much later.”

  Bethoc cried out softly when he began to kiss and lick her breasts. She threaded her fingers into his hair and held him close. The feel of his warm lips against her skin clouded her thoughts and heated her blood. She smoothed her hands over his broad back, delighting in the warmth of his skin, the taut muscles beneath her hands. Even the weight of him sprawled in her arms was welcome.

  He slowly kissed his way up to her mouth. Bethoc ran her hands over his back, down as far as she could reach, as she luxuriated
in the power of his kisses. No one had spoken of love, even hinted at marriage, so she knew she was doing something everyone would consider wrong. Bethoc realized she just did not care. Some things were worth becoming a social outcast for.

  Callum stripped her of her clothes so skillfully she was barely aware of it until she realized they were skin to skin. For just a moment she was intensely aware of the fact that she was utterly naked in front of a man, she who had not been naked in front of anyone since she was a tiny infant. Before that realization could dampen the passion she felt, Callum’s hand slid over her belly and between her legs.

  She tensed, shying away from such intimacy, but then he kissed her. His kisses soothed her even as they roused her dimming desire, pushing it back to full life. Cautiously, yet with a strong hint of greed, she opened herself to his stroking fingers and shuddered with the pleasure he gave her.

  When he moved his mouth to her breasts, she wove her fingers into his thick hair to hold him there. Her body was on fire. Even though they had only made love to each other once, she knew she was going to have to have him inside her soon. She moved her hands down his back and stroked his backside. He groaned and she ran her fingernails over his hips. Then he was there, where she needed him. The hard ridge of his manhood rubbed against her and she felt the aching need in her grow greedy.

  “Callum,” she whispered and he brushed his lips over hers.

  A moment later he thrust home and she cried out softly in welcome. He kissed her as he moved slowly. Bethoc reveled in the slow tightening in her belly as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She had the wild thought that she could do this for hours but then the demands of her body began to grow fierce. Callum moved faster as he kissed her throat. Her legs tightened around him and then the tension broke, pleasure sweeping over her. She held on tight as he slammed into her several times before joining her, calling her name as he spilled himself inside of her.

  As Bethoc’s breathing slowed, she idly ran her hand up and down his back. A soft protest escaped her when he separated them. He nuzzled her breast and then rolled onto his back, pulling her into his arms. Bethoc settled her cheek on his chest and closed her eyes, enjoying the lazy aftermath.