The Eternal Highlander

by Lynsay Sands

  “Good, I might yet get the woman wedded and bedded and hopefully with child ere she gets hersel’ killed,” Connall muttered as he began to jog lightly down the stairs.

  “She does appear to be prone to accidents.” There was a touch of amusement in Ewan’s voice as he followed on his heels.

  Connall snorted at what to him seemed something of an understatement. “Tis obvious the lass cannae be left to her own devices. I want ye men to keep an eye on her when I’m no about.”

  “I suspected ye might,” Ewan said dryly as they reached the great hall and started toward where Connall could see his wife seated at the trestle table. His footsteps slowed however as he overheard what the priest was saying. He was trying to scare her with the tales that had grown up around his people, Connall realized with disgust. The man was trying to convince her to flee the keep and escape to safety with him. He heard Ewan growl next to him in outrage at what the holy man was saying, but raised a hand to silence him. His own first instinct was to storm forward, drag the good priest up by his pious collar and toss him from the castle, but he wished to see how his wife handled the situation first. Then he would decide whether to let the man perform the ceremony before he tossed him out, or merely toss him out and fetch another priest.

  Six

  “Fie, Father!” Eva glared at Father MacLure, hardly able to believe what he had said. First he had spewed all the same nonsense tales that Mavis had told her back at Caxton, then he had suggested the two of them slip away to the stables and flee at the first opportunity. He was suggesting she flee from her husband and her home! She was in such a dudgeon that she added, “Shame on you for listening and carrying such tales, surely there are words against such behavior in the Bible?”

  The priest flushed at her reproof and squirmed briefly, then straightened his shoulders and said, “Are ye sayin’ then that the tales are no true?”

  Eva was irritated by his persistence in the matter. “I was told the tales ere coming here, all that nonsense about the MacAdies being nightwalking, soulless blood feeders. Yet six of them rode for two days, in full sunlight to bring me here, as I am sure it was with you. Did you not travel during the day?”

  “Aye, we traveled in daylight,” the priest admitted. “But there was only one man sent to bring me back.”

  “Really? Only the one?” Eva asked with interest and had to smile. When she had complained to Ewan and the men that Connall had sent them to fetch her like a cow he wished to purchase, they had told her that the fact that he had sent six of them, as well as whom he had sent, showed her importance to him. They had said he would only send one man for a cow, and that the one man would not be any of them. Eva knew not who had brought the priest, but as Ewan, Donaidh, Ragnall, Domhall, Keddy, and Geordan had all been about the keep the last couple of days, she knew it was not one of them. It seemed the priest was not as important to Connall as she herself was. In fact, he apparently was no more important than a cow, she thought with amusement, but didn’t think it was a good idea to share this news with the overblown man.

  “Were they all MacAdies?” Father MacLure asked, drawing Eva’s attention back from her thoughts.

  She knew what he was getting at. Mavis had claimed that the MacAdies had non-vampires among them, servants who did their bidding, and after the kindnesses she had been shown by these people, she would not listen to this nonsense. “All who live within these walls are MacAdies, Father, including myself now,” she said firmly, then added, “As for this nightwalker business, ’tis all nonsense based on the fact that Connall and his sister suffer a negative reaction to the sun. We had a girl like that in our village and it is grateful I am, that no one thought to claim her a soulless, nightwalking blood feeder.”

  “A reaction to the sun?” the priest asked.

  “Aye.”

  “Hmm.” He appeared to consider that, then asked, “But what o’ the claim that they doonae age?”

  Eva snorted. “Well that is certainly stuff and nonsense, just look at Aileen. Would you say she is not aging?”

  The priest’s gaze slid along the table to the older woman, still beautiful despite her age, but he shook his head. “Well, aye, she is, but ’tis said that Connall MacAdie has barely aged since reaching adulthood over thirty years ago.”

  Eva stared at him blankly. Connall had reached adulthood over thirty years ago? That would make him…fifty-five or sixty, depending on what the father considered adulthood and what “over thirty years ago” meant. Nay, that was impossible. There was no way that her Connall was fifty-five or sixty years old, Eva told herself, as an image of his handsome young face came to mind. Dark hair, deep brown eyes, healthy young skin. Nay, Connall had not reached adulthood thirty years ago…Perhaps his father had, but Connall would barely have been born. That thought made her pause and eased the panic that had been building inside her. Of course! A smile of relief curving her lips, she glanced at the priest and said, “Father, my brother’s name is Jonathan.”

  Her comment obviously startled the man, and Father MacLure looked confused for a minute, then said, politely, “Well…That’s a fine name.”

  “Aye,” Eva agreed pleasantly. “And so was my father called Jonathan, my brother was named after him, you understand…As I am sure Connall was named after his own father,” she added firmly. “There are simple explanations for everything. Tis just that—as you said yourself earlier—the MacAdies socialize so rarely with others—probably because of these ridiculous rumors—that it merely adds to the superstitious claims.” Eva sighed over this, thinking with some vexation that she would have to change that, then added, “Besides, while I have been here only a short time, I have seen no sign of the vampirism that is claimed. And, really, would soulless nightwalkers send for you to perform a marriage that has already been performed once?” she asked. “It was my husband’s idea to hold a second, proper wedding, not mine.”

  “Well…” Father MacLure hesitated. It seemed to her that he really didn’t want to believe that these people were just that, people. It was almost as if the idea of their being monsters was too exciting a possibility to let go of. Eva was becoming terribly impatient with the man when his gaze drifted behind her and he suddenly froze.

  Eva sighed inwardly. It didn’t take a wizard to tell who was standing behind her, as the priest had suddenly gone as pale as death and was now rising slowly from the bench, either in polite greeting, or preparing to flee. Still, she glanced over her shoulder to see who it actually was.

  Aye, it was her husband, and he had obviously overheard a good portion of their discussion, at least enough to make him look like thunder. Eva had never seen anyone look quite so cold and furious at the same time, and had to admit that he was really an intimidating sight. Were she the one he was glaring at, she might have been frightened. Fortunately, he was glaring at Father MacLure, not herself, and really, in her heart, she didn’t blame him. It was rude to accept your host’s hospitality, sit at his table, dine on his food and drink his wine, then attack him behind his back, and she supposed he deserved what he was getting. But at that moment, Connall MacAdie looked as if thrashing him would be his choice and Eva couldn’t condone that while she had the wedding to attend to.

  Nevertheless, her husband did not thrash the man or even verbally lash him as she half expected, but merely growled, “Sit.”

  Father MacLure sat at once, apparently intelligent enough not to answer the man just now. Eva felt herself begin to relax as her husband swung one leg over the bench between herself and the priest, forcing the priest to scoot away to make room for him. Ewan followed suit, forcing himself between Connall and the priest so that the holy man now sat far enough away that he could cause little trouble. Eva glanced at her husband sharply as he suddenly grasped her injured hand and began to unwrap her dressing.

  “Tis fine, my lord,” she assured him, though he hadn’t asked how it was, and didn’t bother to acknowledge her words either, she noted with irritation. Eva didn’t trouble to exp
lain that it was an animal bite; Ewan had no doubt already explained that. Her gaze moved over her husband’s head to his first and she gave Ewan a reproving look for tattling on her so, but the man merely grinned back, unrepentant.

  “Kill the dog,” Connall snapped, drawing Eva’s attention to the fact that her bandage was undone and the ragged wound revealed.

  “Nay!” she cried as Ewan stood to do his laird’s bidding. Her gaze shot back to her husband whose fingers had tightened as they clasped the wrist of her injured hand. “You cannot kill the dog, ’twas my fault. I tried to pet him.”

  “He is a danger. He could bite someone else.”

  “He is paralyzed in the back legs and a danger only to those foolish enough to approach him such as myself. Surely everyone here knows better than that? Please, my lord,” she begged, her conscience grasped by the idea of the paralyzed beast being killed because of her own stupidity and stubbornness. After all, Glynis had told her the dog wasn’t friendly.

  “He is bad-tempered,” Connall pointed out.

  “Well, and I should be bad-tempered too were I paralyzed in the back…er…from the waist down,” she substituted. “Please, my lord, ’twas my own fault and really ’tis not as bad as it looks. Aileen assured me there is no permanent damage,” she said.

  Connall stared at her for several minutes, his eyes locked on her face for so long she almost felt the need to squirm under his piercing gaze. But she did not drop her eyes. She needed to win this argument and save the dog, else suffer endless guilt because of its death. Her conscience could not bear it were the dog destroyed because of her thoughtlessness.

  After what seemed a very long time, though it was probably only a matter of a moment or so, Connall released her gaze and began to rewrap her wound.

  “Ewan.”

  “Aye?” The man waited, appearing as curious to know what Connall had decided as she was.

  “The weddin’ will be held on the steps in an hour. Make sure everyone knows and attends, and inform Cook I expect a proper feast afterward.”

  “Effie’s been cooking since ye sent fer Father MacLure,” Ewan informed him. “And I warned her the moment he arrived. Tis why supper has been put off, she was sure ye’d wish the wedding to take place at once with a feast to follow. The rest o’ the clan knew ye’d wish it so too, and they’re all jest waitin’ to hear when the wedding’ll be. I’ll go tell them now to be ready in an hour.”

  Connall nodded and his first moved off to do his bidding, pausing briefly at his wife’s side before leaving the keep. Finished with her bandages, her husband now stood. “Ye should prepare yersel’.”

  He was gone before Eva could offer her gratitude that he had spared the beast in the stables, and just as suddenly, Aileen was there, offering her a smile. “We should see ye dressed, lass.”

  “Oh.” Eva stared at her with alarm. Magaidh had said something the night before about choosing cloth today to sew a gown for the wedding, but Aileen had been missing from the table when Eva had come down to breakfast and then after the incident in the stables, Eva had simply forgotten all about the dress. Not that it mattered, even had they chosen the cloth, they could not have sewn a gown in the hour before the wedding. She had nothing to wear.

  “How fortunate I had several servants sewing today.”

  Eva glanced over her shoulder as Magaidh spoke those words. The woman was approaching, a wide smile on her face and a gown of a silky, deep green fabric in her arms.

  “I ken I suggested choosing cloth today, but on going below after leavin’ ye last night I learned that Connall expected the priest to arrive by supper this evening and I decided I’d best make some arrangements in case he should come. Should he not, ye could choose a different cloth and design if ye liked, but if he did, at least ye’d no be completely unprepared.” She shifted the gown to hold it up before her. “I hope ’tis to yer liking. I thought that the green would bring out the green o’ yer eyes.”

  “Tis lovely,” Eva assured her, tears welling in her eyes at the woman’s thoughtfulness. How could people be saying such vile things about these MacAdies? They were so kind to her. Her husband was arranging a second wedding to ensure she felt properly married. Magaidh had supplied her with a new wardrobe—Glynis had appeared with several more gowns that morn, including the dark blue one she now wore, claiming that Magaidh had sent them—and now, the woman had made sure she would have a special gown to wear for her wedding. Eva felt cared for for perhaps the first time in her life, at least, for the first time since her parents’ deaths when she was young. It made her heart ache with something she could not describe. It was perhaps a bit of gratitude, but she was not sure what the rest of it was, but it hurt. In a good way, but it hurt just the same.

  “Ah, lass,” Magaidh said kindly, apparently understanding what she was feeling by the tears in her eyes. “We are treating ye only as ye deserve to be treated. Now come, we shall make ye ready.”

  “She looks beautiful.”

  Connall grunted at that comment from Ewan, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the lass. His bride. Magaidh and Aileen had turned her into a fairy princess. The gown she wore was long and flowing and the color of the forest by daylight, something he had so rarely seen that it was as precious to him as gold was to misers. Rather than cover her long golden hair with a hat or veil, they had merely left it down, weaving flowers and ribbons into it so that it lay in long glossy waves that trailed over her shoulders and shone in the torchlight with fiery glints. She looked both young and beautiful.

  Connall felt his chest expand with pride. He had chosen well.

  Eva tried to maintain her smile and hide the nervousness she felt as she moved through the parting crowd to the church steps. The wedding had yet to actually begin, and was already different from the proxy wedding, which had been a rushed affair held in the Caxton chapel in broad daylight. Her brother had hustled her and the six Scots there the moment the last of the negotiations were made, introducing Ewan along the way as her husband’s proxy. The priest had mumbled a few words with only her brother, Mavis, and the five Scots accompanying Ewan to witness it, and it had been done.

  This time, Eva was bathed and perfumed and garbed in the finest dress she had ever seen, one she was sure surpassed even the fine fashions she had witnessed at court, then she was led down the stairs and across the bailey, walking a path made by the parting of the clan members and lit by the torches that many of them held. That torchlight added a moody and rather beautiful air to the event, perhaps it could even have been called romantic, and Eva was glad that her husband had thought to hold a proper wedding for her. She truly felt as if she were being married this time, where she hadn’t at the first wedding. On top of that, her mind was not beset with chaos and confusion, thanks to the horror stories Mavis had told. They no longer loomed like a cloud in her mind, but were a dim memory, overlapped by the kindnesses these people had shown her; Glynis with her help and friendship, Effie with her warm welcome, Ewan and the men with their caring and concern both times she’d been injured, Aileen with her sweetness and aid, and Magaidh with her generosity and care. Even her husband had shown her kindness in allowing the dog to live because she asked it, as well as in what she supposed he considered to be a kindness in not bedding her, before this wedding. Aside from that, despite his constant absence, she had learned a lot about her husband these last few days. Eva had not asked questions about him, knowing that would make his people uncomfortable, but she had looked, listened, and learned a great deal despite that.

  Connall MacAdie was a well-respected clan chief. He had earned his people’s trust and was even liked by them. Eva had heard several examples of his fairness in judgment and skill in battle just by listening to those around her and it was becoming obvious that he was considered a fair and just man. He definitely wasn’t feared as an abusive lord would be and Eva was relatively certain that he would be a good husband.

  Aye, this wedding was much different from her first. This time Eva d
id not experience trepidation for the future. She was sure all would be well.

  “All will be well.”

  It was only when Ewan leaned forward and murmured “What will be well?” that Connall realized that he had spoken the reassurance to himself aloud.

  “Everything,” he answered vaguely, ignoring the curious look his brother-in-law cast him.

  “Should the MacNachton no be here?”

  Connall sighed at this question, knowing it was one he couldn’t ignore. “Aye. Mayhap, but I didna think o’ that until I was dressing fer the weddin’,” he admitted, then shrugged. “But I hadnae really intended on this wedding originally; it was Magaidh who suggested it and I only agreed when she pointed out that it would allow all to know and recognize their lady.”

  “Hmm.” Ewan nodded, then said, “Tis a much nicer weddin’ than the one in England.”

  Connall raised an eyebrow at this comment and the man shrugged.

  “Twas a rushed, businesslike affair. Caxton acted as if he feared I would change me mind on yer behalf and insisted on it being held at once. He rushed us oot to the chapel ere the ink had dried on the paper. It was rather unseemly to me and ’twas obvious Lady Eva was upset and embarrassed, but as ye’d said to get it done and get back quick as possible, I didnae argue.” He shook his head at the memory. “I was dusty from travel, without e’en the opportunity to pat me plaid down, and she wore a faded grey gown she’d obviously donned that morn to work around the castle, but we stood before the priest as he mumbled a few incomprehensible words in Latin, then ’twas done.” His gaze slid to Eva. “This should please her much more.”

  Connall followed his gaze to his wife. She looked lovely and—while she was not exactly smiling, there was a peaceful look on her face, an acceptance and perhaps even a quiet pleasure that suggested to him that perhaps Ewan was right and Eva was pleased. He hadn’t considered whether or not she would be pleased when he’d agreed to his mother’s suggestion, but was now glad if she was. Connall had spent little enough time with the woman up to now, but he was kept abreast of her daily activities and had listened carefully to what his people did and did not say when giving their reports. They all seemed to accept her with relative ease, no one saying anything to suggest otherwise. All were impressed with how she had handled herself so far, and even her effort with the furs was seen as merely a misguided attempt to make a place for herself. The only criticism anyone could find was that she seemed somewhat clumsy by nature, but even then they admired what they considered to be her courage and strength in the face of adversity. She wasn’t what they considered to be the typical whingeing Englishwoman they had expected, and that seemed to impress them more than anything else.