Highlander's Wicked Game: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Novel

by Fiona Faris

  “Do ye have a cart or wagon?”

  “Ian took the cart with him tae the castle.”

  “Stay here with her while I find a way tae get her tae the boats.”

  Marra left the croft and raced for the castle grounds, hoping to find Ian or someone else that would have a cart or wagon to carry Diana to the boats. When she arrived at the castle, instead of finding her people working in an attempt to salvage whatever could be saved, she found the men standing face to face against Duncan and a group of Campbell warriors.

  Chapter Twelve

  Duncan faced off in front of Ian MacDonald. He had come to help Marra and to see to her protection, knowing that he did so under threat of his own life. He had brought enough men to detour a battle between the few men that remained on Jura and his own, but that had not stopped them from being greeted with hostility. Duncan hoped that by turning up in numbers sufficient to defeat the remaining survivors and yet choosing not to, he would gain their trust and prove to them that it had not been his people who had attacked them.

  “Ye are no’ welcome here, Campbell,” Ian growled, weapon in hand. “I warned ye that if ye returned I would kill ye.”

  “And I told ye that we are no’ the ones who did this tae ye. I will no’ abandon Marra when there is no’ enough o’ ye tae defend against another attack. She was taken, and we dinnae ken who took her or if they will return for her once more. Do ye honestly believe that ye are strong enough tae defend her against another attack? Were I tae simply raise my hand, my men could end ye all where ye stand, but I dinnae and I will nae. Is that no’ proof enough that it was no’ my people who attacked ye?”

  Ian stood thinking about his words for a moment. Duncan could tell that he was considering the truth of it. “My sister saw the Campbell tartan.”

  “We dinnae wear the Campbell tartan.”

  The MacDonald men stood there uncertain as to what to do when Marra came bursting from the trees. “Ian, I need yer cart! It is Diana! She needs a healer now!”

  Ian turned and met Marra as she crossed the open space. “What has happened?”

  “It is the blow tae Diana’s head. She has blood comin’ out o’ her ears, and I dinnae ken how tae help her. She needs a healer.”

  “Our healer is dead.”

  “But the Campbell healer is no’.”

  “I will no’ leave my sister in the hands o’ our enemies,” he protested vehemently, shaking his head.

  “If we dinnae take her to their healer, she will die,” Marra insisted, begging him to yield.

  “Have the healer come here,” he stubbornly insisted.

  “There is no’ time tae wait for a message tae be sent and then wait for the healer tae arrive. She would no’ get here until the morrow, and by then Diana could be dead. Standin’ here arguin’ with ye is wastin’ time.”

  Duncan moved forward in concern. “Ian, I swear tae ye that we did no’ do this thing. Please, let our healer care for yer sister.”

  Ian looked from Marra to Duncan and then back again. Sighing, he nodded. “My cart is o’er on the other side o’ the castle.”

  “I will need yer help tae load her in the cart. I cannae carry her on my own.” Marra ran for the cart with Ian and Duncan close behind.

  Marra took the reins of the horse, leading the cart, but Ian grabbed them away from her. “I will go and get Diana and bring her here. Ye ready the boats and explain tae our people what has happened. I will no’ be sendin’ my sister alone with the lot o’ ye Campbells. I will be goin’ with ye.”

  “Everyone that wishes tae claim our protection may join us as well,” Duncan offered, wrapping his arm around Marra’s waist. She was trembling and very near tears. Ian nodded and walked away with the horse and cart. Duncan pulled Marra against him. “Do ye need a moment before we face yer people?” he asked, concerned for her emotional wellbeing.

  Taking a deep breath, she shook her head and turned to face the waiting crowd. Duncan admired her for her strength and fortitude under hardship. She spoke with her people explaining the situation and offering each of them safe haven at Duncan’s family stronghold. Some of the people promised that they would consider accepting the offer, while others refused outright, but Duncan made sure that they all knew sanctuary was open to any of the island’s surviving occupants. He knew all too well how unorthodox it was to offer aid to an enemy clan, but in his heart he no longer felt that they were his enemies. Many within both the Clan MacDonald and the Clan MacGregor would have disagreed with him, but he hoped for Marra’s sake to mend the rift between their people and bring about an end to the feud.

  When Ian returned with Diana and his wife in tow, they loaded her unconscious body into one of the boats and shoved off. The men rowed as quickly as they could, attempting to reach the opposite shore before it was too late. Marra held Diana’s head in her lap, holding a cloth to her ear in an effort to staunch the flow of blood. Duncan poured every bit of strength he had into the oars. His eyes never leaving Marra’s face as the boat carried them across the water. Her beautiful green eyes were filled with tears as she whispered words of encouragement to her wounded maid. “Hold on, Diana. Just hold on.”

  When they finally reached the shore, Ian lifted his sister up out of the boat. Duncan’s men had left horses tied up on the shore guarded by two of their warriors. He had brought a few extras in case he persuaded some of the people to join them. Duncan climbed out of the boat, offering Marra his hand so that she might safely disembark, then he walked up the bank to offer Ian his strongest highland pony. “She will carry ye both safely,” he promised. He held Diana in his arms while Ian mounted then handed her back to her brother. Duncan took Marra with him on one of the other horses, and they all headed for the MacGregor keep.

  Upon their arrival, Duncan led them straight to the healer’s croft. The healer took one look at Diana’s wound and began barking orders, putting Ian and his wife Rebecca to work immediately. Duncan could tell that Marra did not wish to leave her maid’s side, but he also knew that there was nothing she could do to be of help. “It will take some time, lass, afore she will awaken. It is best if we give Idonea the room she needs tae work. She will send word to the keep as soon she can. Until then, ye should allow yerself sometime tae rest. I will need tae find housing for when yer people arrive.”

  “I can help with that,” Marra offered, turning her eyes from Diana to look up at Duncan.

  “Aye, I would be glad of the assistance.”

  Together they went on to the castle. Marra repeatedly looked over her shoulder as if she could heal Diana simply by the act of keeping her within sight. He loved her caring, compassionate spirit and was sorely tempted to tell her so, but thought better of it, given the recent tragedies she had endured. What she needed now was protection from her enemies, not the fawning of a besotted suitor. Having her in front of him on his horse, her body moving against his with every step, nearly drove him mad with desire. He felt guilty for having such thoughts while she was in a state of mourning, but his body refused to listen to the chastisements of his heart and mind. He pulled her close against him as if his nearness could somehow shield her from all the pain and suffering she had endured.

  It bothered him that they still had no idea who had taken her or who had attacked her people. He wanted to swear to her that he would avenge her if it were the last thing he ever did, but his father had made it clear that under no circumstances would the MacGregors be going into battle on behalf of the MacDonalds, unless the keep itself was under attack. Though the laird had been willing to bend by taking in the remaining survivors of Jura, he had not been willing to risk the lives of his men. Duncan hoped that the envoys he had sent to the other MacDonald chieftains had been met with success, and not violence. Marra had shared with him that she too had sent envoys to withdraw the plea for vengeance on behalf of her people. Duncan could only pray that they made it in time.

  Marra was frightened and overwhelmed by the events of the past several days. No m
atter how hard she tried, she could not stop trembling. With every moment that passed, the harder it was to hold back the tears. The warmth of Duncan’s arms around her as they rode toward the castle offered some reassurance, but it could not completely erase her fears. As if he had read her thoughts, Duncan wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her to his chest as he steered the brown highland pony toward the stables. Marra buried her face in his shirt and breathed deeply, attempting to calm her inner storm. She felt that if she were not able to erase the horrifying images of the past days from her mind, she would go mad. As she attempted to slow her breathing, she noticed that the ties on his shirt had come loose exposing the muscled skin beneath. She laid her cheek there unable to resist the temptation of feeling his skin upon her own once more.

  Images of their time alone in the highland croft during the storm flashed through her mind, causing her face to flush. She knew she shouldn’t have such thoughts, given everything that had transpired since that time, but she could not help herself. The comfort his body brought her was as undeniable as the longings it stirred within her for more, much more. She found herself wishing that he had not exhibited such self-control when they had been alone together, naked, in the dark of night. She shivered, her fear and trembling momentarily replaced by an urgent hungry need for his naked body to once again lie hard and smooth beneath her curious fingers. His shaft stiffened pressed against her thigh telling her that he felt the same. She resisted the urge to wiggle against it and instead comforted herself with the idea that he desired her as much as she desired him.

  When they reached the courtyard, Duncan dismounted, pulling Marra from the saddle and into his arms. He hesitated to place her on the ground, holding her against him, his eyes boring into hers a message of such intense need it rendered her breathless. “Duncan!” a voice called from the doorway of the keep, and he was forced to release her, placing her gently upon the ground. He threw the reins to a stableman and walked up the stairs to where his father awaited him with Marra in tow, holding her hand as if he were afraid to let her go.

  “Faither,” he greeted the laird. “I have brought as many o’ the MacDonalds as were willin’. They will all need food and shelter.”

  “I will arrange a welcoming’ feast for tonight so that nae one will be left hungry or feel forgotten. These people have been through enough. It is my sincerest wish that they will find a true sanctuary here with us.”

  “On behalf o’ my fellow clansmen, I thank ye for yer generous hospitality.” Marra curtsied as he took her hand and kissed it.

  “I shall inform the cook right away. Please do whatever is needed tae provide for yer people,” he instructed her then left for the kitchens. “Tonight we will raise a toast tae all those that have been lost.”

  Marra watched him go, wondering at his generous spirit. “Yer faither is nothin’ like the man I was raised tae believe him tae be,” she noted to Duncan.

  “I am glad ye think so, lass,” he smiled gently at her. “I hope ye are able tae think o’ our home as yer own. I wish for ye tae be comfortable here.”

  “I am sure I will be. It is most certainly better than a pallet on the floor o’ a croft full o’ snoring highlanders.”

  “I should say so,” he chuckled and led her inside.

  As they walked through the keep together with his hand on the small of her back, there were more than a few angry, disapproving glances in their direction. “I dinnae believe that yer fellow clansmen are happy with ye and yer faither’s offer o’ sanctuary tae an enemy clan,” she whispered, moving closer to his side.

  “Nae, they are no’ pleased. They disagree with my choices, but dinnae fash, they will come around tae my way o’ thinkin’ afore tae long. They are auld warriors who prefer the blade tae diplomacy, but they will no’ be able tae resist ye once they ken the bonnie lass ye truly are.”

  Marra smiled at his words and hoped that he was right. She appreciated the effort he went to in order to make her feel comfortable in spite of the open hostility that surrounded her. Duncan barked a command for the men who were staring at her to go and stand guard duty, but they did not move. It was as if they had not heard him at all. Marra’s smile faded. “Why do they no’ obey yer orders?”

  “I am a hunter, no’ a warrior. The auld warriors dinnae believe that I can lead the clan after father passes and show their disapproval whenever possible. ‘Tis no’ for ye tae worry about, lass. I will go and have a word with them once ye are settled.”

  They moved across the great hall and climbed the stairs up to Duncan’s mother’s old rooms. “It is good tae be back here. I thank ye for all ye have done for me and my clansmen.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, lass. Rest, bathe, and I will return for ye soon so that we may see tae the housin’ o’ yer people. I will have some food and hot water sent up tae ye.” Duncan moved forward, kissed her, gently caressing her cheek with the palm of his hand, and then left the room.

  Marra stood alone in the center of the room. Her head and eyes aching from the strain of holding back the tears. Her lips tingled with the echoes of his kiss. Her cheek glowed from the lingering warmth of his palm. Looking down at her disheveled state, she frowned at the realization that everything she owned was now no more than ash in the wind. She was covered in dirt, soot, and blood. Disrobing, she crawled beneath the bed linens and closed her eyes. Her mind was too preoccupied with fear for the future to sleep, but she allowed herself to drift somewhere in between the realms of wakefulness and slumber. She did not rest for long before a maid brought her a pitcher of hot water, a clean cloth, and a bowl of parritch. Opening the chest at the foot of the bed, the maid pulled out a clean chemise, an olive green skirt with burnt scarlet floral embroidery, and a matching bodice.

  Marra crawled out of bed and reached out to touch the intricate embroidered pattern. It matched her hair perfectly. “My Lady was about yer size, I believe, bless her dearly departed soul,” the maid mused, holding the clothing up to gauge the fit.

  “’Tis lovely,” Marra murmured, smiling in gratitude for the maid’s thoughtfulness.

  Marra bathed, and then the maid assisted her in donning the beautiful garments. She combed out her hair until it glistened, free of tangles and debris. A little while later Duncan returned as promised and escorted her down to the great hall. Ian was there, and she rushed forward to inquire after Diana’s state of health.

  “The healer is doin’ all she can, lass,” Ian answered her questions. “We dinnae ken if she will survive the night.”

  Marra choked back a sob of denial. She could not bear the idea of losing Diana so soon after losing her father. “I should go and sit with her.”

  “The healer says she needs quiet. Rebecca is with her now. We will inform ye as soon as there is any change.”

  Marra considered arguing with him, but decided against it as she had already done so in order to get Diana to the healer. She did not wish to alienate Ian further. He already viewed her as incapable of leadership. It would not do to reinforce that idea through petty squabbles about who would best care for Diana. “Where are our people?” Marra asked looking around her.

  “They have chosen not to come,” one of the Campbell warriors who had been on the island with them stepped forward to explain. “They could no’ countenance takin’ refuge among their enemies and refused tae come.”

  “As soon as Diana is well, we will be returnin’ tae Jura as well,” Ian informed her.

  “But what if ye are attacked again?” Marra asked, her eyes pleading for him to reconsider.

  “’Tis unlikely that such a thing will occur. ‘Tis better tae be in danger with one’s own than tae rest in safety among yer enemies.”

  “That is simply untrue,” Marra protested his foolishness. “Our food stores were destroyed in the fire. How will ye feed yerselves before the next planting is ready tae harvest?”

  “The other MacDonald chieftains will send men and goods.”

  “Ye are certain o’ aid
and yet ye ken all tae well that Faither was no’ well liked among his fellow chieftains. They could just as easily refuse aid as offer it.”

  “I dinnae mean any disrespect tae the laird’s memory, but yer faither is dead.” A kitchen maid walked over to Ian and handed him a basket of food. “Now if ye will excuse me, My Lady, I must return tae the healer’s croft tae see tae my family.

  Marra watched him walk away, frustrated at his level of distrust and prejudice. She allowed Duncan to lead her up onto a dais at the far end of the hall where the laird sat awaiting them at the high table. “I dinnae ken why, after all ye have done tae aid us when ye did no’ have tae do so, that they cannae let go o’ the hatred. Yer actions have shown that ye are no’ the ones responsible for our demise, and yet they persist in blamin’ ye.”

  “Give them time. Feuds as long and as deep as ours are no’ ended by a single act o’ charity,” Duncan advised. “Ye cannae change them or the way they feel. They must come tae ken it in their own way, in their own time.”