Taming the Highlander

by May McGoldrick

  “I don’t believe she can hear you,” Wynda said, wiping away a tear. “That poor lass. What did they do to the wee thing? Throw her into the sea?”

  Innes put her lips close to Dona’s ear. “Where is Cari? Can you tell us where she is?”

  Ailein hurried around to stand behind her. Her sister had seen this before. Innes could cry out, show the pain on her face. Ailein was trying to set herself up as a shield between Innes and everyone else in the room.

  “Has anyone spoken to the parents?” Ailein asked.

  “Aye,” Lachlan spoke up. “The old man is out with the men searching for his granddaughter.”

  Innes reached for Dona’s hand and put her ear to the woman’s lips. “Where is Cari?”

  She gasped in pain as the man kicked her in the stomach. She looked up at the faces. She saw how they’d arrived at the shore. Another man’s fist connected with her jaw. She fell to the ground and raised herself on weak arms, seeing her daughter. Run, Cari, run.

  Moments later, someone forced Innes’s grip away from Dona’s. Innes sat back on the stool shaking, her chin dropped to her chest. Ailein leaned over her, sheltering her from the other three in the oratory. She’d put an end to it.

  Tears fell from Innes’s cheeks. She tried with difficulty to draw the curtain of discretion around her.

  “I’m sorry,” Wynda said gently.

  Innes looked up. The older woman understood. She’d guessed what Innes had just gone through.

  Wynda looked around, aware of their audience and continued. “Here, with your wedding nearly upon you, you should be seeing only the best of us. But I want you to know this is not who the Sinclairs are. This had to be the act of an outsider.”

  “It wasn’t one man,” Innes whispered. “There were two of them. And they were outsiders. Lowlanders. They had a boat.”

  Wynda stood up, looking down at the unconscious woman.

  “She spoke to you?” the priest asked.

  Innes glanced at him. “She whispered to me.”

  “And Cari? Did she say anything of the lass?” Wynda asked.

  “The old fortress. She was running to hide there.”

  “Is there an old fortress near the place?” Ailein asked.

  “Aye,” Lachlan put in. “Not far to the north of it. We just call it that. It’s a crumbling ruin of who knows what.”

  Dona died only minutes after Fingal finished administering the last rites, anointing her forehead and seven other places on her body.

  After it was over and the two sisters had returned to the East Tower, Innes lay quaking in Ailein’s arms late into the night. Touching the suffering woman had thrown her into a chaotic and tortured world. She could not push the horrors out of her mind. Over and over, she relived the young woman’s terror and pain as the men attacked her. But thankfully, a sense of relief occasionally crept in at the thought of seeing Cari run away to safety.

  Dona had told her where her daughter had gone as if she knew Innes was listening.

  Violence, especially against women, was the hardest for Innes to bear. When she experienced those memories, she was only a helpless observer. She couldn’t fight. She could only witness the horror . . . and feel it. She was fortunate that she’d not touched many minds with that kind of past. But of those that she had experienced, Dona’s was the worst.

  Finally, very late, one of Bryce’s warriors knocked on her door to tell them that Cari had been found, terrified but unharmed. They had taken her to the cottage of the grandparents in the village.

  Ailein left her then, and Innes tried to sleep. But every time she dozed off, the faces of those who attacked Dona appeared in her mind, and she sat up in a cold sweat.

  She couldn’t wait until Conall returned. She recalled his warnings, their argument on the strand about the hazards of this very same thing. How many mornings and evenings had she walked along the bluffs, not paying any attention to the dangers lurking around her?

  At dawn, she finally dressed and went to the West Tower. Thunder greeted her happily. Like her, the wolf missed Conall badly. She would have slept there to keep him company, but she didn’t want to complicate things for her sister. Besides, Conall would be back soon enough.

  She took the wolf down onto the stony beach, but the morning mists were thick, so they stayed close to the castle walls.

  It was still very early when she left Thunder with Duff. Walking out of the stable yard, she was about to cross the drawbridge when Lachlan, driving his cart, reined in next to her.

  “Morning, m’lady,” he said, touching his cap. “Heard the good news?”

  “What is it?”

  “We found the two men. Sailors from a merchant ship put in for repair.”

  Dona was dead, but this way more lives would be saved. “That is good news, Lachlan. I’m very relieved.”

  “It’s a good thing all around, I’d say.”

  “Does my sister know?”

  “Aye. Told her myself. In fact, I’ve just come back from taking her to the village. Wanted to see the lass and give her condolences to the old folk. She sent me to fetch you and bring you there.”

  Reaching out to her, the steward took hold of her gloved hand and helped her into the cart. With a flick of the reins, they were off a good clip through the morning mists, with Lachlan chatting about the planting of the crops and the sheep shearing and castle business. He even talked about the upcoming wedding.

  “This is an early morning for my sister,” Innes broke in sometime later. “Did Wynda go with her?”

  “Aye. And Fingal came along on his old mare as well. They all need to decide what to do about the lassie, I suppose.”

  So many of Wynda’s routines required her to be about the kitchens in the mornings, Innes thought. It was curious that she wouldn’t wait until the afternoon to make this visit. And Ailein had been throwing up every morning since Bryce and Conall left. These early weeks of pregnancy were difficult ones for her.

  Innes turned to the steward. “Did you take all of them to the village yourself?”

  “Aye, that I did. With the priest riding alongside.”

  “How did my sister fare on the cart?”

  “Fare?” Lachlan looked at her in surprise. “Why, no problem at all. Except for the business of the lassie, we talked about the wedding nearly the whole way.”

  Innes’s gaze lingered on the steward before looking away. She had never come this far north of Castle Girnigoe. To the right of the narrow cart path, the cliffs dropped off sharply to the sea. The rolling waves broke and crashed on the rocks below. The mists swirled around the cart, and Innes regretted not taking the time to grab her cloak before they left.

  “When did you go down to Wick?” she asked.

  “Wick? I’ve been there thrice these past eight . . . ten days, I’d say. A busy time of year, it is. And of course, the merchant ships are dropping anchor now fairly regular. I was there just yesterday morning. Why do you ask, m’lady?”

  “The men who were captured. Have you seen them?”

  “Nay. I haven’t.”

  “How do you know they’re the right people? Did they confess?”

  “Why, I think . . .” The steward looked over his shoulder and flicked the reins, encouraging the horse to quicken the pace. “I think we’ll just get along to the village.”

  A knot of anxiety formed in Innes’s stomach. She looked ahead; she looked back. They’d seen no one since starting out. Still, she wanted to be sure she was worrying for no reason.

  “Did my sister mention that she wanted you to take us to Wick this afternoon?”

  The steward thought for a moment. “Aye. That she did. Wanted to go sometime after midday.”

  Anxiety turned to cold dread. He was lying. They’d made no such plans.

  Innes stared down at her gloved hands gripping the seat. She let go and pulled off the gloves.

  “Don’t,” he said harshly. “I know who you are. I know what you can do. I saw it with my own eyes las
t night in that oratory.” Lachlan glared. “You’ll not be touching me with those hands.”

  “It’s not what you think,” she said, trying to stay calm. What did he think, that she was a witch? And where was he taking her?

  “I know exactly what to think. I heard it in Wick.”

  “What did you hear? Who has been talking about me?”

  “The word is out. I didn’t believe it at first, but I believe it now.”

  “What word?”

  “Everyone knows it. There are men looking up and down the coast. Lowlanders and even Englishmen, looking for a woman from Clan Munro. They say she’s a witch. She has a magic relic given her by Satan himself. She can turn a person into stone if he looks into her eyes.”

  “Lachlan, you know me. Have I turned anyone to stone? Do you really believe any of that foolishness?” she asked.

  The steward said nothing. And then the sickening truth dawned on her. “You’re taking me to them.”

  He flicked the reins again.

  “But why? Please don’t tell me it’s for gold.”

  When he didn’t deny it, Innes knew she’d guessed right.

  “But you seem so happy,” she said. “You have a good position. You want for nothing.”

  The man’s hard gaze snapped at her. “I saw what you did last night, mistress. You touched Dona’s hand and read her mind.”

  “That’s true. It’s a gift I possess. But I don’t use it. Haven’t you seen me always wearing a glove?”

  “It’s too late, m’lady. You’d know and I’d be dead.”

  “Know what?”

  “You’d know I’ve done the Sinclairs wrong for years. Taking a little here. Putting away a little there. But you’re to be the earl’s wife, and there will be no hiding anything from you.” He shook his head, like he’d fought a battle with his conscience and lost already. “I can’t risk it.”

  “Lachlan, I have more wealth than anything those people can pay you. If you stop now, I can keep your secret.”

  “Nay. I can’t. It’s too late.” He reined in his horse and the cart rolled to a stop. “They’re waiting for us. Waiting for you.”

  Before she could reply, a group of men climbed into view from the cliff edge. More men came toward the cart from behind a small rise.

  It took only an instant for her to take it all in.

  The mail shirts they wore were like the ones she’d seen in Dona’s mind. Two of these men had attacked and killed the young woman. She was certain of it.

  A cloaked rider spurred his steed up a steep path leading down to the sea. More men waited by two longboats on the rocky beach below.

  Cold sweat ran down her back.

  The end had come.

  Chapter 28

  “My days are nearly finished. I thank the Virgin for giving me a man I could trust. I could not give him a son, but Hector has protected my secret, as well as my life and the lives of my two daughters. I only pray that my precious daughter Innes grows to have the strength and wit to preserve this gift that I pass on to her. I grow weaker. I have more to tell her. I must finish my writing here . . .”

  From the Chronicle of Lugh

  The commander nudged his black steed forward to the cart. This man was no Highlander, of that Innes was certain. As he came closer, from beneath his leather cloak he drew a long sword from its sheath.

  Lachlan stood up in the cart and bowed slightly. “As I promised, m’lord, I’ve brought the woman you seek.”

  The rider’s eyes locked on her face for a moment, then flicked to the pouch at her waist. Lachlan had delivered what these people were after.

  They didn’t just want her. They wanted the relic.

  “You promised a reward of English gold, and I trust that a gentleman such as—”

  The commander’s sword whispered through the air, and Lachlan stood frozen in time as the blade swept toward him.

  The steward’s blood spattered her as his head tumbled onto the ground.

  Innes wasn’t going to die like a dog. Not sitting still. Springing out of the cart, she lifted her skirts and sprinted back in the direction they came.

  “Go after her,” the commander shouted. “Bring her to me.”

  She knew what these people were capable of. She saw what they did to Dona. And now Lachlan. With her, it would be worse. Far worse. She might not outrun them, but she’d die before surrendering.

  Conall and the group traveling from Folais Castle were still a mile from Girnigoe when a dozen Sinclair warriors galloped up to meet them. Conall’s worst fears came true as soon as one of them spoke.

  “Lady Innes is missing.”

  They were still on Munro land when they heard the stories of Englishmen and Lowlanders being seen in the hills. But after all that the Macphersons told them, Conall knew who these men were and what they were looking for. Sir Ralph Evers would not waste his time on Munro land once he learned where Innes would be.

  Cold fear washed through him. He had to find her. Get to her. He’d led so many men into so many battles. He’d never allowed fear to paralyze him when action was needed. And he wouldn’t now, even though his fear for Innes’s life made it hard for him to think.

  “Where was she last seen?”

  “In the stable yard,” the Sinclair warrior reported. “Lachlan is missing, too, m’lord. But we don’t know if the two left together or if someone’s taken her. A woman from the castle was killed yesterday . . . by Lowlanders.”

  “Enough,” he ordered. “Ride with me.”

  Spurring his horse, he galloped ahead as the Sinclairs raced to keep up, shouting answers to Conall’s questions. As far as anyone knew, Lachlan hadn’t planned to be away from the castle. Others coming back from Wick confirmed that they hadn’t seen the steward there or on the road.

  Conall slowed his steed only when he rode into the stable yard. Bryce and the Macphersons reined in right behind him. Innes’s father and her family would be arriving in a few days.

  Ailein ran out across the bridge into the stable yard as they dismounted.

  “Innes isn’t here. She’s not in the castle,” she told Conall and Bryce, panic evident in her voice. “We’ve looked everywhere. Someone took her. I’m sure of it.”

  “Duff!” Conall shouted up at the windows of the West Tower. “Bring Thunder.”

  Perhaps, he prayed, his wolf could find her scent and show them the way. He knew he was grasping at straws, but what other chance did they have? Evers hadn’t taken Innes for ransom. From what Kenna MacKay told him, the Englishman would kill her as soon as he had his hands on the relic.

  Duff barreled out of the West Tower with Thunder pulling at a short leather lead. As soon as the wolf saw Conall, he yanked free and raced to him.

  “Innes,” Conall told the excited wolf, trying to undo the leash. But the animal was too excited to remain still. “Find Innes.”

  Thunder darted off through the gates, and Conall leaped onto his horse in pursuit.

  Innes stood with her back to the cliffs. The mists swirled around her. A dozen filthy soldiers hemmed her in.

  The commander barked his order and they rushed forward. She turned to leap from the edge, but she hesitated. She couldn’t. And then they had her . . . and the stone she’d received from her dying mother’s hand.

  Pain cut into the deepest core of her being. She’d failed. Her sworn duty was to protect this tablet, and she’d failed. When the rider produced two more pieces of the Wheel of Lugh and fit her fragment together with them, something died within her. She knew there could be no escaping her fate now. But unlike the others in the chronicle, unlike those women who died to protect it, she . . . Innes Munro . . . simply gave it up into the hands of monsters who raped and killed the innocent and the defenseless. Guilt ripped at her heart.

  And what of Conall? What of the love they had just found? Would he ever even know what became of her?

  A movement drew her gaze to the top of the rise behind these killers.

  Thun
der.

  The Englishman nodded to his men. “Kill her. I want to see her dead.”

  The Lowlander holding Innes by the hair jerked her head up and raised his knife to cut her throat.

  Before the blade could leave its lethal mark, a flash of gray fury was upon the man, knocking him from her and ripping open his face.

  Over and over, Thunder attacked the head and neck as the warrior screamed. Stunned by the sudden ferocity of the beast’s assault, the other men staggered back a step. That was all Innes needed.

  Picking up the fallen knife, she slashed at the closest warrior’s face. The man spun away, howling in pain. But before she could bolt through the opening, the others snapped out of their stupor. One of them grabbed her wrist, and wrenched the knife from her.

  Thunder’s shrieking yelps yanked her head around. A soldier was pulling his sword from side of the writhing wolf even as another raised his weapon to finish the animal.

  “NO!” she screamed, ripping her wrist free and diving forward.

  She landed on the wolf as the sword point descended, thrusting into her. Hot as molten metal, it cut straight through flesh and bone. Her breath caught in her chest, and the searing pain inside of her radiated outward from the blade, scorching her until something snapped in her head and there was no more pain.

  Suddenly, pounding hooves were directly in front of her. The clanging sound of sword blades mixed with the grunts and cries of wounded men. The horse moved away a foot, a yard, and then she saw her fierce defender.

  Conall, driving the men back with ferocious rage, his sword swinging as their foes fell away before him.

  And beyond the fray, she saw others coming over the rise.

  The mounted commander saw them, too. She watched him spur his horse back toward the cart before disappearing down the path to the beach.

  Conall slashed at anything that moved around him. With blind fury driving him, he carved through the animals that dared to touch her.

  The dead and dying littered the cliff top by the time Bryce and the others reached him. It was a miracle that Conall recognized his brother before attacking him as well.