The Highland Chieftain

by Amy Jarecki

  She liked that. Dunn always managed to say things that made her insides swirl as if filled with popping soap bubbles.

  He took her hand. “If your stomach is growling, we mustn’t tarry.”

  Mairi giggled all the way down the stairwell. As he pulled her into the banqueting hall, her eyes grew wide and her lips formed an O. The enormous dining table had been exchanged for a small round table in front of the grand hearth. It had been set with fine plates, utensils, and goblets all in engraved silver. “’Tis exquisite.”

  “The setting was my mother’s.” He held a chair for her. “M’lady.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “My, you are ever so braw-looking this eve.”

  Smiling with a bit of color coming to his cheeks, he took a seat. “It is not often I am able to dust off the finery.” He reached for a bottle of wine. “May I pour for you?”

  “Please.” Mairi watched the ruby liquid as it filled her goblet, the candlelight flickering through the stream.

  The steward entered from the side door, carrying a tureen by its handles. “The first course is served.”

  Mairi inhaled. “It smells delicious.”

  “Thank you, m’la—”

  Dunn cleared his throat.

  “Thank you, miss.” After placing the tureen on the table, the servant picked up a silver ladle. “Beef broth with leek.”

  Mairi shifted an amused gaze to the laird. She doubted a soul living at the castle thought she was anyone but the daughter of the Earl of Cromartie. “Mm, my favorite.”

  The meal consisted of four courses, complete with white bread of fine-milled flour, roast beef, and sugared plums with cream. Mairi used a dainty spoon and dipped it into the deliciously sweet concoction. “I am overfull, but this is far too good to pass by.”

  “I will give your compliments to the cook.” Dunn took a bite. “The staff certainly have not disappointed this eve.”

  She closed her eyes while the tartness mixed with sweet spread across her tongue. “Heaven.” Once she opened her eyes, Mairi watched as Dunn mimicked her expression. “What makes you happiest?” she asked.

  He smacked his lips and swallowed.

  She leaned toward him. “Aside from food.”

  His eyes dipped her way, fanned by dark lashes. “I must say, though we are still in a precarious situation, I have never been happier than in the last few days—ever since your illness passed.” He took a sip of wine, his gaze shielded behind his goblet. “And you?”

  “I agree.” She looked to her hands and chuckled. “A month ago, I never would have guessed it to be true.”

  He took her chin in the crook of his finger and turned her face until she looked straight into his eyes. “I’m ever so content to ken you return my love.”

  Mairi’s heart fluttered when he leaned forward ever so slowly and sealed his words with a kiss, his hand sliding back and kneading her neck.

  “If you have eaten your fill, I have something else to show you.”

  “Aye? What is it?”

  He took her hand and helped her stand. “Since ’tis dark out, I believe a turn on the wall-walk is in order.”

  “Out of doors?”

  “Two souls silhouetted in the moonlight. I believe there isn’t a spyglass in all of Christendom that would be able to make out who we are.”

  She followed him up the wheeled stairwell until they stepped out onto the walk of the highest part of the keep.

  “From here Eilean Donan seems like a kingdom.” Dunn led her around the perimeter. “On a fine day, to the north you can see all the way up Loch Long; to the south is Loch Duich, and to the west is Loch Alsh, which leads to the sea.”

  Mairi turned full circle. “And all around us are stately mountains. They’re as rough and rugged as the men they breed.”

  When they approached the turreted tower on the northeast corner, lyrical music filled the air. Mairi drew a hand over her heart as a harpist came into view, his tune flowing like a gentle waterfall. “Och, Dunn, ’tis glorious.”

  The laird took her hand and twirled her under his arm before he bowed. “A feast would not be complete without dancing, m’lady.”

  Together they moved in harmony while the ballad from the Celtic harp swirled around them. Dunn hummed in a deep bass, complementing the dreamy notes. Light on his feet, he handled her with sure but gentle tenderness. “La dee da dee ya da da dee da.”

  The deep bass of his voice made her feel as if she was floating. “You sing so beautifully. Why have I never heard you before?”

  “If you like it, then I shall only sing for you.”

  She laughed while not missing a step. “Aside from our brief dance at Urquhart, I don’t recall seeing you dance afore—you always stood on the fringe, watching with one hand on the hilt of your sword.”

  “I suppose I haven’t danced much, especially when Seaforth is near. After all, my duty is to watch his back.”

  “But still, you are an accomplished dancer.”

  “Bless my mother for seeing to that.”

  “Is Seaforth the reason you are always so serious?”

  “Hmm.” He locked his elbow with hers and promenaded in a circle. “I’d say much of life is serious.”

  “Except when you’re with me,” she whispered.

  “Och, when I am with you, it is the most serious of all.”

  “But you laugh.”

  He stopped dancing and clutched both of her hands over his heart. “Lady Mairi, I allow myself to laugh when I am with you, because you make me happy. When I am with you, I feel as if there is music in my heart. I want to be yours. Your protector, your lover, your husband.”

  Speechless, she gasped as he kneeled, drawing her hands to his lips and kissing each finger. He slipped his fingers into the pocket of his doublet and met her gaze, while the moonlight’s shadows made his face handsome beyond compare. “Lady Mairi MacKenzie, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

  Mairi wanted nothing more than to say yes, but how could she? Aye, they’d spoken of marriage, but there were so many problems yet to sort through. Her father had a price on the man’s head, for heaven’s sake. Making an irrevocable promise would be highly irresponsible at this juncture. And yet…A tear slid down Mairi’s cheek. Taking in a deep breath, she nodded, unable to form the words.

  “I ken this decision is fraught with challenges. I ken we need your father’s blessing, but I am asking you as a woman fully grown with the ability to make decisions on her own. Once we set things to rights and have the House of Cromartie’s blessing, I bid you, please, please, please accept me.”

  “Aye.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I will marry none other than you, Duncan MacRae.”

  “Then wear my mother’s ruby ring as a symbol of my everlasting promise to you.”

  Mairi’s breath stuttered while he slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, and she held it up so the moonlight made the deep red of the stone flicker. “It is the bonniest ring I’ve ever seen.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dunn headed across the courtyard, returning from a sparring session with Curran, but he stopped short when pounding came from the main gate.

  “Open these doors at once by order of Her Majesty the Queen!” a voice bellowed from the other side.

  Dunn tightened his sword belt and changed direction, heading up the barbican stairwell and straight to the chamber housing the cogs for the portcullis. Placing his feet carefully, Dunn made no sound as he moved to the medieval arrow slit where he could observe unawares—not the first time he’d assumed such a position.

  Curran met Mrs. Struan at the big wooden gate that was reinforced by an iron portcullis built to keep out clan enemies.

  “What on earth do you want now?” asked the matron, opening the small wooden window allowing only her face to peek through. “You have already searched the entire castle.”

  A red-coated officer tightened his reins, making his horse snort
and stutter-step. “We have heard rumors that the laird has returned.”

  Dunn’s gut clenched. Aye, it was a risk to bring Mairi to his castle, but he trusted his kin to remain quiet. Did he have an informant in his ranks? Or had a redcoat with a spyglass seen him? He had been careful, but if the government troops had a soldier watching the castle, there might be a remote chance he was spotted when in the courtyard.

  “Rumors?” asked Mrs. Struan. “So now the queen’s dragoons have nothing better to do than roam across the Highlands, chasing rumors?”

  “Hold your tongue, madam. We have probable cause and will search the premises. Mind you, if you try to stand in our way, I shall personally have you locked in the stocks.”

  Curran pulled on the portcullis chain and looked up—straight through the gap in the floor, good lad. Dunn circled his finger, indicating the “tour” should start at the kitchens, which would allow him time to spirit Mairi out of the matron’s chamber and into the hidden crevice above the chapel.

  While the noise of raising the gate rattled the barbican wall, Dunn hastened for the keep.

  Mairi set aside her book as he entered, her expression immediately concerned. “What is it?”

  He strode toward the bed to straighten the comforter and pillows. “Dragoons are searching the castle, acting on a rumor that I am in residence.”

  She dashed to the other side of the bed to help. “They ken you’re here?”

  “They’re fishing. ’Tis likely some Sassenach outside the walls thinks he saw me.”

  After fluffing the pillows, he scanned his gaze across the room. “This chamber looks far too much as if it has been recently occupied.”

  “The fire.” Mairi strode to the washstand and fetched the ewer. “We must douse it.”

  “Nay.” Dunn grabbed the garments from the back of the chair and rolled them. “Wet coals will make them think we were here and received warning.”

  She replaced the ewer and smoothed her hands down her skirts. “What about the tray?”

  “Come. Put everything in the trunk. Haste. We must head above stairs. I have a false ceiling in the chapel.”

  “Hiding in a house of God?”

  He grinned. “See? Such a thing is unthinkable.”

  Working swiftly, they had the room looking as unoccupied as possible, aside from the fire. God save Mrs. Struan to come up with a good excuse for that.

  Dunn led Mairi to the door and cracked it open. Footsteps echoed in the stairwell beyond. “Blast. They’re coming.” Damnation, starting the search in the kitchens should have allowed them at least twenty minutes. Shutting the door, he grasped Her Ladyship’s hand and made a quick decision. “Behind the curtains.”

  “What about the dressing room?” she whispered.

  “Nay, that’s the first place they’ll look.” Heavy drapes hung from the ceiling and touched the floorboards. “We’ll hide in plain sight.” He held the curtain open as she slipped behind.

  “But will they not see us here?”

  The latch clicked.

  Dunn slipped beside Mairi as the sound of footsteps clomped inside and slowly took a turn of the chamber. “There’s a fire,” said a man.

  “And a vial and spoon beside the bed,” said another.

  Blast. How did I miss that?

  The beat of his heart roaring in his ears, Dunn wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his dirk while footsteps marched across the room. The door to the dressing room creaked open. “Where are they?” the first man demanded.

  “I have no idea to what you are referring, sir,” said Mrs. Struan.

  “Fool! It is as clear as the nose on my face someone is staying in this chamber.”

  “Stayed,” Mrs. Struan corrected as if she were taking an oath with her hand on a Bible. “Please do not tell the laird, but my mother was deathly ill. It was her final wish to die in a fancy bed in Eilean Donan Castle.” She sighed loudly. “Since I am the head maid and the laird is not in residence, I saw no harm in granting her wish.”

  “Your mother died here?”

  “Last eve. Please, please, do not tell Mr. MacRae. He’ll have my hide for certain.”

  One of the soldiers laughed. “Where MacRae is heading, I doubt he’ll care.”

  “Ye ken,” continued Mrs. Struan, “Eilean Donan is the last place the laird would go to seek refuge.”

  “Is that so?” asked the dragoon. “Tell me, where do you think he’s gone?”

  “Och, I’ve known Duncan MacRae since the day he was born. Whenever the lad is in trouble he always heads straight for the mountains.”

  “Where does he hide?”

  “That, sir, is the quandary. If the laird does not want to be found, there is nary man in all of Scotland who can find him.”

  Aside from Reid MacKenzie or Ram MacRae. Dunn’s fingers tightened on his hilt.

  “So say you, madam.” The officer didn’t sound convinced in the slightest. “Let us continue on, and the next chamber had best not show any signs of being occupied or I will lock you in the stocks until you lead us to the bastard.”

  Dunn held his breath while they moved on. As soon as the door clicked shut, Mairi grasped his arm. “Your chamber is next. They’ll find the fire.”

  “Nay, I prefer to keep things cool. The hearth is clean. Haven’t used it since the first night when I brought you here.”

  “What about the bowl, the ewer, a drying cloth?”

  “I threw the water down the latrine chute this morn,” he whispered. The used drying cloth hanging on the washstand’s rail might give them away, but with the hearth clear, Dunn hoped they wouldn’t go so far as to test to see whether the cloth was still damp.

  He moved to the door between the chambers and pressed his ear to the timbers. Footsteps and muffled voices came through, but it was impossible to make out the words. Mairi stared at him, pressing her fingertips to her lips.

  When the footsteps faded and a door slammed closed, Dunn let out a deep breath only to be replaced by a sharp inhale. The dragoons should have proceeded down the passageway toward the west stairwell, but as sure as the sun rose in the morn, clicks from the soldier’s boot heels headed east.

  “They’re coming back!” he shouted in a whisper, while he grasped Mairi by the arm and pulled her downward. “Roll under the bed.”

  Holding his sword to prevent it from clanking on the floorboards, Dunn followed her under just as the door opened.

  Good God, his breathing sounded louder than a raging river while uncomfortable silence swelled throughout the chamber. Dunn glanced downward. Damn it all, the hem of Mairi’s skirts was peeking out. Where were the soldiers now? Not a footstep sounded. Christ, they’re most likely staring at the damned bed skirt.

  Dunn clenched his teeth; the blasted green gown contrasted with the yellow décor. Where was Curran? Where were the MacRae guardsmen? How many soldiers must he fight while keeping Her Ladyship from harm?

  He couldn’t kill the bastards. If these men did not return to their regiment believing the rumors were false, everything would be ruined. Cromartie would most likely hang Dunn before Ram returned with Seaforth.

  “Is there something I can assist you with?” asked Mrs. Struan, her voice strained.

  “Where is your mother’s body now?”

  “Interred—the sweat.”

  “What say you?” The soldier’s voice shot up. “The crone died of the sweat? Why did you not say something before?”

  “You did not ask, sir,” Mrs. Struan replied sharply. “Now, if you will follow me, I can show you the rest of castle afore nightfall. ’Tis a very large fortress, sir.”

  Dunn almost snorted aloud. It wasn’t yet noon. The tour had damned well better be over. Now.

  “Lead on,” the man clipped, clearly irritated.

  The door slammed with a bang.

  Mairi started to move, but Dunn gave her a tap. “Not yet.”

  He waited until the footsteps disappeared in the west stairwell before they climbed out fr
om under the bed.

  He pulled Mairi up by her hands while she gazed at him with wide eyes. “That was fantastically dangerous.”

  Dunn wasn’t amused. “I cannot believe they had the nerve to return. And when they have no right to set foot on the premises in the first instance.”

  “They did not?”

  “Well, they said they possessed an order of the queen, but I believe the order came from none other than your father.”

  Mairi grasped Dunn’s hands. “This is ludicrous. Allow me to travel to Castle Leod with an escort. I will inform my father of your gallantry, how you saved my life, and how much I have come to adore you.”

  “I’m certain he will be overjoyed,” Dunn said sarcastically.

  Mairi groaned.

  “Please, my love. We must be patient. Those soldiers were merely acting on a hunch. Seaforth will be here anon, and then together we will ride to Castle Leod and reason with your father. ’Tis the only way.”

  She stamped her foot. “Blast Seaforth. I loathe relying on him for anything.”

  “He’s a good man, Mairi, despite his faults.”

  “He has never proved his gallantry to me.”

  Dunn drew her into an embrace and kissed her. Oh, how he’d been blessed with an entire fortnight of pure joy. “When we are wed, you will thank the stars that Reid MacKenzie fell in love with his ward, because you and I were meant to be together.”

  “Through thick and thin?”

  “Through every hindrance imaginable.”

  A knock sounded.

  Mairi jolted like a startled rabbit.

  Dunn pressed his finger to his lips indicating silence, then gestured for her to slip behind the curtains. He’d had about enough of hiding in his own home. Drawing his dirk, he tiptoed to the door and stood aside it.

  The knock came again, more insistent this time. “Duncan, may I come in?” asked Mrs. Struan.

  He pulled down the latch. “Why didn’t you announce yourself the first time you knocked?”

  “Pardon me whilst I spout lies to government dragoons on your behalf.” She looked at him with righteous indignation.

  “Are they gone?”

  “Of course they’re gone. I never would have come back up here had I not seen the backsides of their horses for myself.”