Highland Dragon

by Kimberly Killion

  Darach’s words were fact, but Calin was surprised nonetheless to hear the Kinnon’s named heir voice them aloud. However, he had no desire to waste time listening to these two men quibble over a title that didn’t belong to either of them. The chieftainship of Clan Kinnon belonged to his wife. He should have trusted her with the truth long ago.

  “I can help ye,” Darach said after a long moment of silence.

  “And what do ye ask in return for your aid?” Kendrick questioned, obvious distrust riddled his tone.

  “Freedom. A cottage, mayhap, on Kinnon soil. My needs are few, but I will fight alongside ye both to rid Dalkirth of that monster.”

  The warriors in their company didn’t hide their amusement. Glances were exchanged and a mockery of quiet snickers circled around them. Kendrick snorted. “Ye are nay bigger than a whelp. Can ye even wield a sword?”

  “Nay.” Darach cast his haunted eyes downward. “But I am invisible to the laird and can move freely within these walls. The warriors who guard your women pay me nay heed. If it is your wish to deliver a message, then it is done.”

  “’Tis a fair trade in my way o’ thinking. Loyalty for land.” Calin decided and already contemplated what words he would send to his wife. “Come. We must make haste.”

  “Your blood boils, soothsayer, an’ I grow weary o’ this nigh’,” Laird Kinnon slurred, his burr thick with spirits. He staggered to his feet and threaded his greasy fingers through Akira’s long locks, causing her stomach to rebel even more than it already did. When she closed her eyes to stave off another bout of nausea, all she could feel were his repugnant hands. The same hands that raped her mother and Neala, and killed Papa. She would be strong for her family’s sake and the child she carried. She had no choice in the matter.

  But her time ran thin. Dawn would be upon them soon, and she’d already finagled the night hours from Laird Kinnon. The Beast bought into her ploy about having to prepare Catriona for the offering to her Guardian and sent two maids shortly before dawn to bathe and dress her. Darach had returned as promised, slipping into the chamber from behind a wall that yielded no door. When he pressed the MacLeod brooch into her hand as proof of her husband’s presence, she’d wanted to weep with relief. Knowing Calin was within the walls of Brycen Castle gave her courage.

  She hoped to be back in her husband’s arms, and shielded by his protection soon. But for now, she would abide the company of The Beast and continue to play her ruse. She offered Laird Kinnon her evilest grin, and stirred her cauldron of bones, blood, and urine inside the scullery while an old orange cat slinked around her ankles. Portraying the role of a witch on the eve of Samhain unnerved her. Silently, she prayed for God to forgive her acts and hoped He could hear her thoughts over the blasphemous words she would soon speak.

  Akira peeked over her shoulder at Catriona lying flat atop a trestle table. Her hair had been trimmed and smoothed with oils, and the silk of her light-blue gown molded to her curves. Gray eyes rounded wide and rarely blinked as she held the pose Akira had instructed of her.

  Laird Kinnon circled the table, his eyes mistrusting. “I’ve never seen a woman so calm and obedient. Especially one who awaits death.” Laird Kinnon stared at Catriona while a cat circled his ankles. He retrieved the feline and sat it atop Catriona’s chest. The cat licked her lips, but Catriona showed no response.

  Laird Kinnon ran eager fingers over her body, cupping her breasts and lewdly rubbing her sex. He was obviously testing the state of her hypnosis, but Catriona held true to her trance and never faltered. A Kinnon warrior entered the chamber. Akira recognized him and hoped that meant he was a member of the rebellion. He clasped his hands in front of him. “The vessels travel up the firth just as the witch said. The forerunner flies a flag bearing the MacLeod crest.”

  “Your magic has served me weel, soothsayer.” Laird Kinnon dismissed the warrior with a gesture and then cast her an ugly grin. Before the door closed, he was at her side again, stroking her hair. “Howbeit, I amnae quick to trust a woman with your linaments. Black hair. Cold blue eyes.” He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Ye remind me o’ my late wife.”

  I have seen her, and ye are her likeness.

  Laird Kinnon leaned into her cheek. “I hated my wife. She betrayed me with the MacLeod.”

  His foul breath reeked worse than the blood Akira boiled, and his words caught her unguarded. Laird Kinnon had murdered Calin’s father, but she assumed their feud was over land, not a woman. Akira controlled her expression. She couldn’t let Laird Kinnon read her thoughts. Convincing him they were allies was her only option. “Then we share common ground, m’laird. The MacLeod betrayed me with that English whore.”

  “Ye disapprove of the marriage your brother has chosen for ye?”

  “Kendrick is disloyal.” She gave Laird Kinnon the words he would want to hear. “He has betrayed the crown as he has ye. He gave me to the MacLeod to further his plight against ye, m’laird. I had planned to escape Cànwyck Castle just before your men brought me here.”

  Laird Kinnon was so close to her she feared he could hear the blood rushing through her veins. He wiped perspiration from her top lip and held the glistening drop in front of her face. “’Tis as cold as a year-old corpse in this chamber, lass. Yet, ye sweat. I suspect ’tis because ye lie.”

  Akira swallowed and felt her nostrils fluctuate with her rapid breathing. She was failing. She was going to die in this chamber. Calin, where are ye? She silently called for him, willing him to her. Her heart felt his presence, but she’d sensed warmth all around her since Darach had claimed the spirit of Laird Kinnon’s wife haunted Brycen Castle. I followed her into the shadows. She reaps fear in Laird Kinnon. Ye must use that fear to gain an advantage. Akira had to trust Darach’s words. “I dinnae lie, m’laird. The wall to the Netherworld is thin on this nigh. I sweat because I feel the strength of a hundred souls within this chamber. Your wife is one o’ them. Their combined energy has sent my body into a fever. Can ye not feel the heat?”

  Laird Kinnon ripped himself away from her so abruptly Akira almost fell. He surveyed the room, his black eyes perusing every stone in the walls and every crack in the ceiling.

  Akira watched him in astonishment. Darach had been right. He was afraid of his dead wife. Akira suddenly doubted the woman had died in childbearing. The Beast most likely murdered her and she, too, sought a reckoning. A chill crawled up her spine, but her toes and fingertips burned.

  With his hand on the hilt of his sgian dubh, Laird Kinnon shouted orders to his warriors then turned to Akira. “’Tis the witching hour. Make lady English drink your brew. I need to know the MacLeod’s next move so I can position my warriors.”

  Akira panicked. Her heart did a triple beat. She hadn’t intended for Catriona to have to drink her potion. The ruse had gone too far, but if she hesitated now they would be dead.

  The Beast’s threatening presence closed in on her, so she ladled the boiling brew into a pewter cup wrapped in ox hide, then turned to him. “Take us to the highest point of the keep, and I will call upon the Guardian for the vision. Ye—” she pointed to one of the Kinnon warriors, “carry the host.”

  Laird Kinnon and ten of his warriors led the way up the tower stairwell until they reached the stone walk of the parapet. A yellow haze threatened the eastern horizon and the opaque moon dipped close to the sea. Gray mist curled around the glen, and the breeze of dawn cooled Akira’s moist skin.

  A Kinnon warrior lowered Catriona to her knees in front of the crenellated wall. Laird Kinnon pointed at Catriona. “Make her drink it.”

  Akira’s pulse quivered in her neck as she held tight to the cup. The rancid ingredients would make a wild boar ill. Catriona would never be able to keep the concoction down.

  To her surprise, Catriona took the cup from Akira’s rigid fingers and drank the substance down without batting an eye. Akira’s gut gurgled and the coppery taste of bile thickened on her tongue.

  Catriona threw the cup at
Akira’s feet, startling her, then stared Akira down as if commanding her to proceed. Raising her hands to the Heavens, Akira chanted. She prolonged her mumbling until she sensed Laird Kinnon’s anger, then she shifted the language to Gaelic. “Guardian of the Night. Hear me. Bring forth your vision. Speak now through the unholy host, and I will sacrifice the flesh of her flesh unto ye.”

  The salty wind picked up and blew Akira’s hair over her face in a black web. She studied the sky over the sea—calm, clear, only whispers of living stars. But a cloud swirled overhead. A dark, eerie cloud, close enough to touch. She held her position and continued to pray to her Guardian until a blinding bolt of light erupted out of the cloud’s center. An uncanny sensation coiled inside Akira’s gut then jarred her innards when the thunder cracked. She did everything within her power to hide her growing fear.

  A fear that catapulted when The Beast snarled at her. “Speak the language of your Guardian.”

  Akira would not deviate to her family language. The cue upon which Catriona would deliver the vision. Once she revealed the final order, the Kinnon warriors had been instructed to toss Catriona over the parapet into the moat as a sacrifice to Akira’s false Guardian.

  Akira saw the desperation in her gray eyes. Catriona sought peace—an end to her own suffering. But Akira couldn’t do it. She couldn’t say the words that would end Catriona’s life.

  Another intimidating bolt of lightning impaled the sky.

  Catriona quivered. She was proceeding with the plan on her own.

  Nay! Dinnae do it. Akira screamed at Catriona through her eyes and searched her mind for a reprieve. The rolling thunder escalated. Akira turned to Laird Kinnon and shot him a fierce look. “The Guardian of the Night has been angered. We must cease or suffer the Guardian’s wrath.”

  The cloud looming overhead lashed out a web of lightning. Then the sound of suffering crawled up the walls of the keep and over the parapet. Through the square crenel, Akira and Laird Kinnon saw the stable in unison. A mass of belching flames engulfed the structure. The men locked inside cried out for deliverance.

  The Beast’s evil face twisted into shock. Unsheathing the sgian dubh from his stocking, he forced the sharp point into Akira’s breastbone. “Ye treacherous witch, ye tricked me. Those are my men inside.”

  Akira’s skin grew clammy and fear strangled the breath in her throat. Her eyes searched the Heavens for help. The angry black cloud darkening the hour of dawn could not be ignored. From the cloud’s center shot another bolt of lightning straight onto the tower. With the thunder came the unsettling hiss of unsheathed swords. The warriors of three clans emerged onto the garret—all led by the Laird of Clan MacLeod.

  “Calin!” Akira screamed as loud as her dry throat would allow her.

  Laird Kinnon’s warriors attacked. The clash of swords and metal scraping against bone filled the air. Akira watched the battle in horror. A Kinnon advanced on Kendrick, but Gordon took off the man’s head with a halberd. Jaime drove his claymore through the chest of the warrior who’d taken her from the healer’s cot-house. Men fell to their deaths in groups, and the blood dripping from their swords made Akira’s heart pound against her ribs.

  Where was he? She searched the atrocity.

  From the midst of the massacre emerged her knight. Her husband. Her Calin. With his broadsword drawn, he advanced on The Beast.

  Laird Kinnon swiftly moved in behind Akira, pulled her head tight against his chest, and then slid the blade up her neck. Akira held onto his arm with both hands and watched the band of warriors form a half-circle behind Calin. Her head filled with images of her husband. Him holding their newborn babe and smiling sweetly at her as he kissed her forehead. Her future.

  Their future.

  The sharp point of The Beast’s blade pierced her skin at the same moment a dull ache pressed against her abdomen.

  The crimson trickling down her neck caused Calin’s footing to cease. His fingertips burned. A dull hum deafened his ears, but his tone remained commanding. “Let her go. ’Tis over.”

  “Naught is over. I have men o’ two hundred positioned in the woodland awaiting your warriors,” Laird Kinnon hissed back. “Your army of Lowlanders has been seized. Ye are finished, Beast, as is your reign over Dalkirth.” Calin tossed the hilt of his sword from hand to hand. “Let her go and fight me like a mon.”

  “Think me a fool to release her so your warriors can gut me down. Disband your men.”

  Calin stood tall. He had to control his emotions. If The Beast saw his fear, Calin would lose the greatest battle he’d ever fought. “Take the wounded into the keep. All of ye, go. Now!”

  After much reluctance, Gordon made the first move to obey the order. He lifted Catriona into his arms and the other warriors followed suit. They receded back into the tower, leaving Calin alone with his enemy. He had awaited this moment for years. His fingers itched with the desire to gut the man who killed his father. But even stronger was the desire to hack off the fingers touching his wife.

  Akira’s eyes went aflutter, her lips gray and quivering. Calin wanted to pluck her free of The Beast’s talons, but he was helpless, just as he’d been the night his father died.

  “Do ye love your wife, MacLeod, as much as ye did your father?” Laird Kinnon asked and pushed the blade deeper into Akira’s neck causing the skin to dimple further. “Throw down your weapon or I will gut her.”

  Calin flinched. His heart plunged to his gut the same time his sword fell from his grasp. Oh God in Heaven help me. Calin prayed straight to his Maker for aid. “Let her go.”

  The Beast’s laugh was shrill. “’Tis a wicked world is it not, Laird MacLeod? Ye reap this war, kill my loyal men, and for what? To avenge your father’s death. But ’twill cost ye your wife’s soul. Assuming the witch has one.” Laird Kinnon’s fingers twisted into her hair and jerked, exposing her throat even further to his blade. He scraped the flat steel up her skin, smearing her blood up the column of her neck.

  She clawed at his forearm and cried out.

  “The score shall be settled after this, MacLeod. I take your wife as your father took mine.”

  Calin battled his fears and the coward that awakened the boy inside him. The Beast would not steal another loved one from him. Throwing Laird Kinnon off kilter seemed his only option. If the truth cost him Akira’s trust then he’d spend his life rebuilding her faith in him. “Ye cannae kill her. She’s the destined chieftain of Clan Kinnon.”

  Akira’s brow wrinkled in confusion, as did The Beast’s.

  “My son shall reign Laird of Clan Kinnon guided by my hand, and ye will never have your precious alliance.”

  “Darach cannae claim chieftainship for he is not your blood. Ye only sired daughters. Three of them are in the ground alongside your wife. The fourth I saved the night ye killed my father. I had her fostered by your own kin, then I married her.”

  Calin could only pray he’d catch The Beast unguarded. “Did ye not notice she is the image of your late wife? She has Lena’s eyes. Look at her, Beast!”

  Laird Kinnon spun Akira around and studied her. Calin knew the bastard would kill her before he drew his next breath. Out of the corner of his eye, Calin caught the movement of a warrior tucked between two thick-stoned merlons. Kendrick stepped from the wall and threw his dagger. The blade sunk into Laird Kinnon’s back clean to the hilt. The Beast howled, twisted Akira around, and flung her into the stone wall. The blow bent her body in two, her chest lay flat atop the wall, her fingers clawed at the edge, her legs dangled. She cried out. Calin spurred into motion. He flicked a small blade from his leather wristband and grabbed Laird Kinnon by his hair. In one fluid motion, Calin opened The Beast’s throat from ear to ear.

  Laird Kinnon’s legs buckled beneath him. He sank to his knees then toppled forward, ending his reign as The Beast of Brycen.Akira slid off the wall into a puddle of plaid. Calin scooped her up behind her back and knees. Her head fell and her eyes pinched tight. Out her open mouth came a bawl of pain.
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  “Akira!”

  White-knuckled fingers clutched her lower abdomen. “I am with child. Calin—” Akira’s words ended on another scream, just as her body went limp in his trembling arms.

  Oh Saint Aidan, what have I done?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Akira’s mind pushed through a haze of blackness. She was cold.

  No, not cold—frozen, like her legs were trapped in ice. Oddly enough, her cheeks were warm, and she felt the pressing weight of down-filled covers. She was abed.

  She sensed an emptiness inside her.

  “My child…Calin…” she whispered, more to herself than to the presence beside her.

  “Shhh…’tis gonna be alright now. Dinnae worry yourself.” A woman consoled her in a gentle voice and brushed her hair at the temple.

  “So cold.” Akira reached beneath the coverlet and touched the cool, damp towels packed between her legs. Then the devastation of her loss whipped through her like a hundred lashes across her heart. Her child was gone.

  She raised her eyelids and focused on the dimly lit chamber. A wide-rimmed wash bucket beside the bed toppled with discolored towels soaking in water. The gauntly woman bedside pressed a moist cloth against her forehead. Akira recognized Gunnie. She’d been the only midwife in Dalkirth since she could remember.

  Akira managed a question. “How long?”

  “Three days, m’lady. I did everything I knew, but the bleeding wouldnae stop. I am verra sorry for your loss. So verra, verra sorry,” Gunnie offered and encouraged Akira to drink a bit of honey wine. Nay! Akira turned away, closed her eyes, and tried to dam the flood of tears falling from beneath her lashes. Why? Why did God take her child from her? As punishment for her acts of heresy?

  Her mind, body, and soul washed with confusion. A grief like nothing she had ever known filled her heart and mind. Bits and pieces formed in her mind’s eye of the events on the parapet. Laird Kinnon was her father. Blood of The Beast flowed through her veins, sickening her until she felt physically ill.