Taming the Highlander

by May McGoldrick

  As she lay in bed beside him, the event came again before Innes’s eyes. It would forever be branded in her memory. Conall moving through his people. Men, women, and children cheering him on, congratulating their earl on the betrothal, and giving him the long overdue hero’s welcome.

  Walking beside them through the Great Hall, the priest had told Innes that because of the period of unsettled sadness after the death of Shona and the unborn child, there had been no fanfare after Conall’s return to the clan. This was the people’s first real chance to show their gratitude.

  Conall needed this. He needed to realize how much he mattered to these people. He needed to learn that he was the greatest source of pride to them. And he was touched. Innes’s hand had been in his. She was witness to the groundswell of emotions within him and around him.

  He’d felt as he should feel. Their hero.

  Nestled against him now, Innes traced his ear with one finger. She touched the line of his jaw and the beard that was already sprouting. She smiled when he opened his eyes.

  “I can’t believe I fell sleep,” he said.

  “This has been an important night for you,” she said, putting her head next to his on the pillow. “Not to mention that you made love to your intended twice already.”

  “Tradition has it that if a couple has sex after handfasting, they’re then married,” he said. “So I made love twice to my wife.”

  “Bryce and Ailein will still insist on a wedding. We cannot avoid it. My father will as well. He’s a hard and tough man. But I guarantee he’ll still cry during the ceremony. I don’t think he ever thought he’d be rid of me.”

  Conall laughed, holding her tight. “I’m going to miss you so much. Are you sure you don’t want to forsake that promise to your sister and come with me instead?”

  “I think I’m doing this as much for Bryce as for Ailein.” She kissed his chest, pressed her lips against his chin. “Just think, the same week you get back, we will be married.”

  “I’ve been thinking about where you might want to live after the wedding,” he said, caressing her back. “The hunting lodge is mine, but it’s not the most protected of places. There’s a tower house just south of Wick that we can renovate and make more comfortable. It might be a convenient place, whenever we come north, if that’s what we decide on.”

  She pulled back, looking into his face. He looped her hair around a finger.

  “Twice now, since I have been back, the earl of Arran has sent an emissary with an offer,” he said.

  “The Regent? The protector of the infant queen Mary?”

  He nodded. “He sent the second offer after the burning of Edinburgh last month. He wants me at court.”

  “Please tell me, not to fight.”

  “Nay, he wants someone on the council to stand behind him.” He traced her lip, looked into her eyes. “I haven’t agreed to anything, and I won’t, unless you’d be happy living at court, too.”

  Wynda had told her this would happen. Conall was too valuable to be left alone.

  “But we don’t have to make any of those decisions now.” He gathered her against his chest. “I want to make you happy. And we can always travel.”

  “I’ll be happy wherever you are,” she said, meaning it. “I would like to see more of the world, but the urge is not what it was before I met you. And as far as where we live, if you decide to accept the Regent’s offer, I can speak for Ailein in saying she’d be overjoyed if we were to spend our time here whenever we are north, especially now that she’s with child.”

  “The same is true with Bryce,” he said. “Growing up, our intentions and our interests were always focused on the clan. Neither of us ever cared much about being laird. But regardless of what position I accept, now that my fighting days are over I believe I can be of use to him and to our clan folk.”

  Innes could not find enough words to express her relief at Conall’s acknowledgment that his fighting days were over. And as far as being at court, she’d spent much of her life shying away from a public life. But at her husband’s side, she’d go to the end of the world. She’d do anything to help him heal the wounds of Solway Moss and his year in captivity.

  “Can I bring you back anything from Folais Castle?” Conall asked.

  Innes thought about his journey ahead. “When you arrive, please bring the chronicle back with you. That account should be with me now. I’ll write a letter to my father and explain. He’ll understand.”

  He looked into her face. “You told me there are other stones like yours out there.”

  “Mine is one of four pieces of the wheel. Each fragment holds a different power. Like me, each bearer carries the gift until death. Then the stone transfers it to whoever possesses the piece.”

  “Different powers? How so?”

  Innes never had a chance to explain any of this to him the day she’d told him about the relic. “One stone heals wounds. It can even bring a person back from the shadows of death, from the very gates of the next world. The second empowers the bearer to speak to the dead. The person possessing it can raise a soul and speak to them no matter how long the dead have been at rest. The third stone bearer can see into the future. You know what I can do. But I am also the keeper of the past. I keep the chronicle. I doubt that any of the others who hold the pieces of the wheel know the disaster that awaits if the four fragments are reconnected again.”

  He caressed her hair. “And you fear that.”

  “You know man’s nature. The greed, the selfishness, the insatiable need for power. Can you imagine if one of these pieces were to fall into the wrong hands?”

  “Do you have any knowledge of who holds the other pieces?”

  “None at all. But when you bring back the chronicle, I want you to read it. The first entries refer to the men who held each stone fifty years ago,” she said. “They took them far away to keep them safe.”

  “With the exception of them coming together, or a chance of discovery, is there anything else to fear?”

  “I fear the stone that can raise the dead. There is no end to the power of the man or woman who possesses it.” She shivered. “Can you imagine, an army of the dead?”

  For days, Sir Ralph Evers’s troops had been combing Easter Ross, the foothills of Ben Wyvis, and the lands north of Moray Firth. Farms had been pillaged, cottagers interrogated, but they had come up with nothing. No word of the Munro woman. Until now.

  Word had reached Evers near Cromarty Firth that three young Highlanders were running their mouths about a ‘witch’ who could read a man’s mind and see into his past.

  Finding the men took only a day.

  A short distance upriver, thick smoke and sparks billowed high into the black sky from the burning farm cottage. The family living there claimed to know nothing about any Munro witch or about the men who’d been hiding in their sheepcote and escaped on foot when the soldiers arrived. They paid dearly for their ignorance.

  “Two of ’em run off into the night, Sir Ralph,” the soldier said nervously, trying to avoid the steely gaze of his commander. “This one drowned trying to get across the river. He’s dead, m’lord.”

  Sitting astride his black steed, Evers looked down at the dead Highlander stretched out on the bank of the river and then at his four soldiers squirming behind the body.

  Evers waved them away. “Go back to the farm and wait for me.”

  The men needed no more persuasion and immediately disappeared into the darkness.

  Sir Ralph Evers dismounted and approached the body. Holes in the back of the jerkin indicated that more than the river was responsible for the boy’s death. Evers touched the pouch at his belt and kicked the body until the corpse rolled on its back.

  He looked at the freshly killed face. The Highlander’s vacant eyes dully reflected the full moon climbing into the black Scottish sky.

  In a tower fort in the Borders, Evers had conjured the spirit of the old man Cairns. On the church altar in the Lowlands, he’d raised the d
ead abbot and learned the secrets of their treasure vaults. He’d even conjured up the ghost of the long dead Red Comyn. They were powerless before him.

  Evers had forced from them what he wanted to know. He would do the same here.

  “Rise,” he ordered.

  Before him, something stirred in the body of the dead Highlander. A wisp of smoke emanated from the corpse, and then the shape of the young man formed, rising and hovering over its former self. The spirit stared at Evers.

  “Tell me about the witch.”

  There was no hesitation in his response. “She took hold of Jock’s hand, and she knew everything of his past. She read his mind. She knew where we lived. She knew his secrets.”

  “Aye. That’s the one. She’s a Munro. This is Munro land. Tell me where she’s hiding.”

  “I know nothing of her being a Munro, only that we saw her.”

  “Where?”

  “On Sinclair land. She was with an old crone who said she spoke for the laird.”

  “What laird? Those lands are extensive.”

  “Girnigoe,” the spirit told him. “She’s at the castle at Girnigoe.”

  Chapter 26

  Folais Castle

  The laird’s receiving room was a snug, comfortable affair with French tapestries on the wall, a map of the German Sea, and displays of ancient swords and weaponry. Conall sat in a Spanish chair of elaborately carved oak strategically placed in front of a cozy wood fire. Hector Munro sat in a matching chair.

  “I’m grateful for the hospitality you’ve shown me and my brother. I need to apologize again for not receiving you at Ailein’s wedding to Bryce,” said Conall.

  “Let’s say no more about that. I’m happy that my lass is well settled,” Hector said with a satisfied look. “And I’m even happier to hear all this about you and my Innes.”

  “Aye, she’s brought about changes already, I can tell you.”

  Hector looked into the fire for a moment before beginning again. “I suggested that your brother go off to see our new cannons in the gun house because I wanted to speak with you alone.”

  Conall expected this. Innes was a precious gem and he’d make any assurance the baron needed to ease his mind about his daughter’s happiness.

  “You said already that we shan’t worry about her dowry,” said Hector. “It isn’t that . . . though she’ll come with her fortune, as Ailein has.”

  Conall began to speak, but the Munro laird waved him off.

  “Our time is short, and I need to ask you something.” Hector’s gaze fixed on his face. “Has she told you of the . . . of the added responsibilities that fall to you as her husband?”

  “She has,” he replied. “I know of her special gift, and the stone, and she told me that we are to carry back the chronicle that she received from her mother.”

  The baron was clearly relieved as he leaned back in the chair. “Innes said as much in the letter you brought, but I needed to hear it from your own mouth.”

  “I’ve vowed to protect her,” Conall said. “You can be assured that I mean to do it.”

  “I know you will. You’re a fine man and a fine warrior. As I said, I’m happy that Innes has found you and you her. She could do no better if she searched out the entire world. Our families are now knitted together for eternity.”

  “She is the finest of women,” he said. “I’m a fortunate man.”

  “Aye. I feel that way about her myself. I shall miss her here at my side, believe me. And until now, I thought I’d have her counsel till I’m old and gray.”

  “She says your son Robert will be at your side soon. By all accounts, he’s a fine lad.”

  Hector looked happily into the fire for a moment and then called for a servant, who opened the door and looked in.

  “Bring in our other guests,” the Munro ordered. Seeing the question on Conall’s face, he explained. “Some people have come looking for Innes. I know them, and I trust them. Their mission here is of some urgency . . . and it concerns you now.”

  Before he could explain further, the door opened, and the two men stood.

  “Let me introduce you to Alexander Macpherson and his wife, Kenna MacKay.”

  While the Sinclairs served the crown with their swords and their lives on land, the Macphersons were a force to reckon with at sea. Conall knew by reputation the commander of the Macpherson ships and future laird, but this was the first time they’d met. For generations, those ships had ruled the Western Sea, terrorizing the English coast and growing rich from the Spanish gold being plundered in the New World.

  Alexander Macpherson was tall and muscular, but he moved with the smooth power of a large cat. He had the clear eye and steady hand of a warrior. And his protectiveness of his young wife showed; he stayed within arm’s length of her at all times.

  Hector Munro wasn’t much for ceremony. He pushed them past the pleasantries and explained Conall’s knowledge of the relic before arriving at what mattered most: the danger to Innes.

  “I was hunted,” Kenna told them. “My husband and I were chased through the Western Highlands by English soldiers and Scots Lowlanders. They serve a man named Sir Ralph Evers.”

  “Evers,” Conall broke in. “I know the man. He’s a butcher and a marauder. He’s terrorized the Borders in the name of the Tudor king.”

  “He’s broken free of his master now and he’s come north,” Kenna continued. “He’s been cutting a bloody swath through Scotland to get his hands on the remaining stones.”

  “He has two of them that we know of,” Alexander explained. “One belonged to an old man named Cairns. He was one of the original four who were shipwrecked with the relic.”

  “And the second?” Conall asked.

  “He has Kenna’s stone.”

  Conall recalled Innes’s words. The power of the relics and how they transferred was fresh in his mind.

  “But the power remains with you,” he said. “And it will always stay with you.”

  “Unless he kills me,” Kenna responded, moving to Alexander’s side. “And my husband can attest to the attempts.”

  The Macphersons knew Innes had the relic. This meant so could Evers. Conall’s mind immediately turned to Innes’s safety. Before he left, she’d promised to not venture out of Girnigoe without an escort. But that wasn’t enough. Villagers, travelers, merchants, strangers arrived at the castle daily. Any of them could be an agent of Evers. He had to get back to her.

  “Which of the stones does he have so far?” Conall asked.

  “I had the healing stone,” Kenna told him. “Cairns died under torture. His power of speaking to the dead lies with Evers now.”

  “We believe that Innes will be his next target,” Alexander asserted. “Although the baron here insists that his daughter’s secret has been well kept, the rumor is out there and it has spread. The same thing happened with Kenna.”

  “We know Evers now has Innes’s name,” she added. “We have no doubt that he is coming for her.”

  Chapter 27

  Innes and Ailein followed the steward through the chapel into the dimly lit oratory. Fingal was standing by the door, murmuring in Latin and taking the stopper from a bottle of holy oil. The sight of the priest confirmed the information Lachlan conveyed to them on the way there. Fingal was preparing to give the sacrament of extreme unction.

  “The poor creature . . . stabbed and beaten and . . . and worse . . . then left for dead,” Wynda told them, her voice faltering.

  “When did they find her?” Innes asked, grief taking hold of her heart. “And where?”

  “Around noon, on the way to the village at Keiss. Not an hour’s walk north of here.” Wynda looked at the young woman, who was breathing with difficulty. “The animal that did this just left her to die.”

  Ailein touched the aunt’s arm and leaned over the injured. A blanket covered her battered body.

  “Do you know her?” Ailein asked.

  “Aye, she’s one of our own,” Wynda said. “Her name i
s Dona. She works in the kitchens. Brought her daughter here last year to help, as well. Every fortnight or so, the two of them walk back to their village to check on her folks. The mother’s crippled and they’re both aging. Dona and her daughter left yesterday. That’s the last anyone saw of them . . . until today.”

  Innes approached the table where they’d laid the woman.

  The eyes were closed, but the eyelids fluttered as she moaned weakly. Her breathing was growing more labored with every passing moment. Innes guessed her suffering would not last much longer.

  “Have you found the daughter?” she asked.

  “Our men are searching along the coast,” Lachlan put in. “They’ve been to the village. There’s no sign of her yet.”

  “Does this happen often?” Innes asked.

  “Never,” Wynda answered firmly. She did not look away from the dying woman. “But what of the daughter? I can’t stop thinking what might have happened to her. Just ten years of age. A happy lass, she is. Eager to please. She loves . . . loved . . . working alongside her mum.”

  “And the husband?” Ailein asked.

  “Dead,” Lachlan replied. “A fisherman. Drowned two summers ago.”

  Wynda picked up Dona’s hand, caressing the fingers.

  “We have womenfolk out traveling the countryside all the time,” Lachlan added. “They’ll all be afraid to venture out their door if we don’t find out who did this.”

  Innes slowly removed her gloves. She saw her sister reach out to stop her, but Innes shook her head. She knew what she was doing. Dona was the victim of a vicious beating. She’d been stabbed and violated. Touching the woman’s hand, all that pain would become hers. She’d relive the horror of it all if that’s what was in Dona’s mind right now.

  Innes moved around to the other side of the table, drew up a stool, and sat down. “What’s the daughter’s name?”

  “Cari,” Wynda told her.

  “Cari,” Innes repeated softly, leaning close to the woman’s face. “Where is Cari, my sweet? Where is your daughter?”