by Fiona Faris
The wedding was scheduled to happen in place of the evening meal on the morrow. This would be her last night of innocence. After she ran Elias MacKenzie through with Nathan’s knife, she knew she would never be the same. A fresh start indeed.
She peered out the window one more time.
“Better get a good night’s sleep tonight, Violet, if ye can. No tellin’ when we’ll sleep again.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
MacKenzie Keep
“Well, Father, it’s all but done.” Elias was smug as his looked upon his father’s forlorn face and he had every right to be. He had bested all of them. The council room was dark, the only light coming from the lit fire in the hearth. The other clan elders stayed away, as they should. Elias had their support in his claim as Laird, but only hanging by a tenuous thread of fear and knowledge. Knowledge that his cousin was dead and his MacKenzie blood gave him claim to the lordship. And by this time on the morrow eve, Millicent MacGille would be his bride. All his planning and purpose had finally come together in a divine finish.
“I wouldn’t be so sure, lad. Ye aren’t wed to the lass yet. And what if the council demands proof of Nathan’s passing? What then?”
“Let them demand all they like, Father. My bride will tell them she saw my cousin’s murder at the hand of bandits with her own eyes. At least if she knows what’s best for her, she will.”
“And what of her brother? Ye expect tae keep him locked in the dungeon forever? I ken what ye promised the lass. Do ye think when you release him, he willnae take his revenge? I feel this isnae a solid plan, lad.”
Not a solid plan? What did his weak father know of planning or strategy? Of course, he would never release Gavin MacGille. He couldn’t. Gavin, and possibly that other one, Thomas, were the only two living souls who knew how his uncle met his fate. Elias would be a fool to let them free into the world to tell their tales. No, that wouldn’t do at all. Once he secured Milly as his bride and then the Lairdship, he would have to see that the two men in the dungeon never spoke of what they knew again. Which meant he would also have to do something with his bride and her maid? Milly would not take kindly to the death of her brother after everything she’s been through to secure his release. He would have her for his heir, keep her locked away somewhere until she birthed. If he were truly lucky, the wench would perish in childbirth. It was known to happen and often. If not, then perhaps Samuel would like her. When his man was through, she could be tossed from a cliff for all Elias’ cared. As for the maid, a quick knife through the belly should do the trick. After all, who would miss a mere maid? As long as he had the power he needed, the women meant nothing to him, nor did anyone or anything else.
“Father, you know not half of what I’ve done or planned to come this far. I will succeed.” Anger knotted his stomach. He shouldn’t even reveal himself to his father. The old man never trusted his judgement, always thought him a fool. No, his father always preferred Nathan over him, but now Nathan was dead. Elias would’ve preferred it done by his own hand, but the necessity of his situation meant he had to leave it up to his men. Either way, the bastard was dead and would bother him no longer.
“I dinnae even recognize ye as my son. If ye don’t care for me or your kin, at least give thought tae th’ clan? The people are good, they rely on their Laird to provide and protect them. Dinnae turn yer back on that!”
The words were meant hurt Elias, or at least to sway him. He seethed. Rather than hitting their mark, they only served to make him more furious. When was he ever viewed as true son, a true MacKenzie? As an equal to Nathan? Not once! Even his own mother preferred his cousin over him. He would send each of them to hell, the clan, and the whole Highland way of life. No one would be spared. He was a son of England now, and mayhap he always had been. It wrought nothing but pain to think otherwise. The only comfort of family or clan he’d ever known was the cold embrace of the English Crown, and the coin therein. He would make himself rich from the spoils of the coming war. Riches would far outweigh the benefits of being a son. He lunged at his father.
“Were I able to finish you old man, I would do it without a second thought. Know this, you will support me with the council, or you will find yourself at the other end of my blade. There is no love between us.” William visibly flinched at his son’s harsh words. Shock came over his face and Elias smiled. Now he understood. Elias was playing this game for keeps and nothing would stand in his way.
The old man sat back into a chair, the wind taken out of his speech. Elias’ eyes darkened, only giving a hint of the madness and greed that drove him. “But ye’ll not kill me?” The tone told Elias his father wished for death.
“Nay, I’ll not kill you, Father. No. I’ll leave you alive to support me with the council. I leave you alive to know that your son is indeed the monster you feared he would become. And the blame lays at your feet.”
“You are weak, like Nathan. You are afraid to embrace the future. England is the future. This…” He pointed to room around them, the ancient stone walls, the rugs, and the hearth. “This is past. The Highland way of life is not going to survive. It’s the way of the world. The strong survive. It’s as I intend to do, survive.”
“Yer greed will be yer undoing. But why? To what end?”
“To success, Father. Haven’t you been listening? I will align with the English, with my true kin. I will betray each and every last clan in the Highlands, and the Jacobites will be crushed. The Crown will reward me with land and privilege. It will be a new dawn for Scotland and England, and I will be at the top, finally.” It was so simple, but the fact that his father didn’t get it made Elias all the more clear that the man was weak. Nothing would stand in his way. Not his father, his cousin, or the woman. He was so close to getting everything he’d ever wanted. “Until the wedding tomorrow, ye’ll not speak with anyone in the clan.”
“You mean tae lock me up like the others?” His father looked him in the eye. It was rare that anyone looked at him with such a direct gaze. It was unnerving, especially because he had a point. It would be best to keep his father under lock and key until all of this was done. It wouldn’t work to put him in the dungeon with the others. He didn’t have enough support from the clan as of yet, and he needed the council on his side. His father, whether Elias liked it or not, still had sway with the council. No, the dungeon wouldn’t do. He would have to keep him in his rooms and put a man on his door. If questioned, he would claim the old man took ill. It worked with the MacGille lass, it would work for him as well. He swallowed his anger and forced a sly smile.
“Of course not father. We may disagree on the course of the clan, but I would nae be so cruel as tae lock me own da away in th’ dungeons.” His voice dripped with treacle, and a fake purr. “I need ye tae convince the council to agree with my ascent tae Laird. You wouldnae want them tae suffer th’ same fate as my Cousin now, would ye?”
“When did ye become so hungry for power, lad? When did ye lose yer ability tae feel?”
“When Mother died.” It was the first time Elias had been honest with himself in years, but he felt no remorse. The world was about to become his.
Chapter Twenty-Six
MacKenzie Keep
Nathan made his way to the high stone walls of the keep in the early dawn hours. He had only slept an hour, maybe two, as he could figure, but he felt no fatigue. The sky carried with it a slight grayish hue. The freshly fallen snow from the night before, gave a light glow that were so much not at stake, Nathan would have found beautiful. But now the soft white blanket crunched under each step he took, making it almost impossible for Nathan to silently approach the keep. As it turned out, his loud approach mattered not. There were no guards stationed at the gates. Odd, he thought. Where is the watch?
He tied the horse to a nearby post. The stable lads will come upon the beast and it will be taken care of. He crept closer in, making his way toward the castle. A low murmur of voices caught his attention at the base of the first turret. T
he soft glow of fire light behind a low stone wall beckoned him closer. Who would be gathering at this time in the morning?
“How can we stop him?” He heard the first voice, but couldn’t place the man it belonged to.
“He’ll not stop until he is Laird.”
“He’ll stop if we kill ‘em!” The other men gave solid grunts of agreement.
“We have tae be careful, men. There’s no tellin’ who is on the bastard’s side, and Nathan not even cold in his grave.” The second voice was heavy with sadness and hard for Nathan to miss. It was the deep, gravelly burr of the leader of his father’s night watch, Simon MacKenzie. An orphan ward of his father’s who was five years younger than Nathan, but never the less Nathan considered the man a friend. Simon was too young and without lineage to be part of the council, but was still able to raise through the ranks and become a well-respected, brave warrior and clan leader. Nathan was relieved to hear the men were not pleased with Elias and his attempted takeover of the clan. He was doubly relieved that these are the first men he managed to stumble upon in the keep. He agreed with Simon, there was no way to know who they could trust, but he agreed with the other men as well. The only way Elias would stop was if he were killed.
“Lads, I may be thought tae be cold in my grave, but I trust I can still be of service.” He stepped out from the shadows, careful to keep his voice low. He was almost bowled over by the men as they brought him in for a series of tight embraces.
“How by God? Samuel came in an’ told all the clan ye were dead? Met on the road by bandits?” Simon said, clapping his friend hard on the back, causing Nathan to lose a bit of his breath.
“Bandits, ha! Is that what my cousin is tellin’ the clan? Nah, not bandits. Samuel, along with three others.” The men all nodded in agreement as if they suspected as much. “What of Lady MacGille? Samuel took her as his men had me surrounded. Has she been brought here? I need tae find her.”
“Aye, aye, no need tae fash, Laird, at least not yet. Lady MacGille’s been brought back tae th’ keep. She’s been holed up in her chamber since she returned. Elias and his men are sayin’ she’s preparing for her wedding. But th’ kitchen maids say different. They say she’s grieving ye, and Elias is keeping her under lock and key.” Nathan tried to keep his temper in check, but the thought of Milly locked away in her chamber, thinking he was dead. It was overmuch.
“Wedding, HA! Not as I breathe!” A wedding would happen between them only over his truly dead and festering body, and he had no intention of dying just yet.
“Wedding’s planned for tonight, Nathan. Ye came back just in time.”
“Simon, what of Gavin MacGille, and his clansman, Thomas Graham?”
“I dinnae ken of Gavin, but there are two prisoners in th’ dungeon. Elias has his men guarding the dungeon day and night. No one who isnae part of his inner circle has access. The other lad could verra well be Gavin MacGille. None have set eyes on him, but recently the MacGille maid, Violet, was let out of the dungeon. She’s been servicing Lady MacGille, but has been quiet as a church mouse. Afraid of Elias and his men tae speak.”
“He put Violet in the dungeon?” Nathan knew his cousin was ruthless, but to put a woman in chains, that was beyond despicable.
“Aye, a lot of bad has happened in the keep since ye left. But yer back now, we can put it tae rights.”
“Aye, that we can indeed.” Nathan clapped Simon on the back. “But first I need tae check on Lady MacGille. Then we will meet, stop the wedding, and set the prisoners free. I have a plan.”
Nathan and the men set about the work of how they would disrupt the wedding and end Elias. While the men were working with the kitchen maids, to help them gain access to the dungeon, he would use the castle’s secret passageways to get to the guest chamber. His only goal was to rescue Milly without drawing Elias’ attention. After securing her safely, he would meet the men at the dungeon to free Gavin and Thomas. Hopefully by this point, the lad Derek will have made it to Cadney and Lucas would send reinforcements. But if not, Nathan was confident with the help of Simon and the other men they would succeed. Then when his cousin was waiting for his bride in the main hall in front of the council and clergy, ready to declare his victory, Nathan would confront him. If Elias did not surrender willingly, Nathan would end him.
“Then we are agreed?” he asked the men before him.
“Aye,” came the hushed, yet eager responses of the men. Nathan may have never wanted the title of Laird of Clan MacKenzie, but these were good, honest men, and he would be damned before he would let the clan fall into his cousin’s hands. He would not let these men or any of his people down.
The sun was coming up, gentle over the eastern horizon as Nathan made his way to the kitchen door of the keep. The only maids awake were busying themselves with preparing the morning meals. He was able to sneak by undetected as he made his way to the entrance to the main hidden passage. It was forty two paces in the dark until the first set of stairs up to the second floor of the castle where the bedchambers were. How long had it been since anyone had entered a guest bedchamber illicitly in the keep? He only had to make sure the chamber he entered was the right one, and hopefully the doorway was able to be opened.
* * *
There was no point in wishing for sleep. The sun was beginning to peak through the early morning clouds, and Milly knew if sleep hadn’t come yet, there was no point in wishing for it. The day would begin whether she was well rested or not. The early morning quiet allowed her to think about Nathan. In these early hours before the castle awoke, she could safely imagine he was alive, in his father’s study perhaps going over ledgers or correspondence, handling the business of being Laird. In her fantasy she was his lady, preparing to go down to the kitchens and assist the cooks with the planning of the clan’s meals, then going about the keep and surrounding lands visiting clanwomen. She would discuss their needs and how she and Nathan together would be able to help the clan succeed.
“Don’t be foolish, Milly,” she said aloud into the dark room before covering her head with one of the elegant stuffed pillows on the bed. “Nathan is dead, and ye have much to do today. Much too much for wasted fantasies.”
A slight scratching pulled her attention away from the bedding. “What the devil?” The scratching became louder and more persistent, and as far as Milly could tell was coming from the wall behind one of the large chairs close to the hearth. She got up to investigate. What kind of vermin or animal would make such a noise? A muffled, masculine, curse came from the direction of the noise. That was no vermin. Whatever was behind her chamber wall was decidedly human. How would someone have gotten behind the wall? Then a memory from early in her visit struck her. Nathan in the library, secret passageways. Someone was definitely trying to gain access to her room, and Milly was not in the mood for company. Picking up a candelabra from the mantel of the hearth, she gentle pulled the chair aside. She would grant the intruder the access he sought, but if he meant her any harm, his head would meet with the blunt side of pewter and wood.
Once she moved the chair, the outline of the secret door became glaringly visible even in the early dawn darkness. How could she have not seen it before? The scratching grew louder.
“Halt, who goes there?” She would make an attempt to reason with the intruder before he achieved the access he sought.
“Milly? Are ye alright then, lass?” The scratching stopped, replaced with insistent banging. “Och, lass thanks be tae God. Let me in, this damn door is stuck!” The wall nearly rattled with the force of the man behind it, and Milly’s voice left her throat. Her vision clouded with grey as tears began to rush down her cheeks of their own will. It couldn’t be. Could it? She dropped the candelabra and rushed the door, madly clawing at the wall.
“Nathan… please, oh God. It cannae be, Nathan, is it truly you?” She ran her hands around the faint lines of the wall looking for anyway to break the aged wood free. He was here, he was alive. She barely wished it to be so, and
now it was.
“Aye, lass,” he chuckled through the wall. “Ye dinna give up on me that easily, did ye? Now help me get out of this damned wall.”
She is able to pull away at the covering that had stuck the door closed, loosening it just enough that Nathan was able to burst through, the momentum of his force propelling him into her. He was standing before her, his arms on her waist to steady himself. Alive. She fell into him, her tears coming in torrents. “I thought… I saw… how?” Unable to make a full coherent sentence, she clutched at him, leaning up to bring his mouth to hers.
He met her kiss in a crushing heat. She tasted the outside air that lingered on his breath. Cool and crisp, with hints of freshly fallen snow. His clothing was cold, no doubt from his journey to the castle and his rummaging through the inside passages, but his skin was warm. She wanted to know this was true and not a fevered dream her mind had conjured to make the inevitable marriage to Elias more bearable. She would have thought it all imagined if the entire room hadn’t warmed as he filled the chamber, all of him, muscled and rough. She pulled back from the kiss to take him in, his dark hair falling into his eyes. His blue eyes staring at her with an intensity, she matched in feeling. He looked as if he’d been to hell and back, and maybe he had but she cared not. He was here. Naught else mattered.
