Highlander’s Secret

by Adams, Alisa

  "Soon," he whispered as if he was reading her mind. He kissed her softly and let her go with great reluctance.

  She nodded, then bade the men goodnight, but long after Gregor had closed the door she stood looking at it as if she could will him to come back.

  "We have a big day tomorrow," Donalda said, turning Iona to face her. It is time for bed."

  Iona quietly prepared herself for sleep, knowing that sleep would not come. She had had a mattress laid on the floor for herself but Donalda would not let her sleep on it.

  "Sleep in my bed," she insisted, "you are the one who needs the energy. Whatever happens tomorrow, you will need strength."

  "I cannot sleep, Mother," Iona sighed.

  "Yes, you can," Donalda replied, giving her a hot cup of valerian tea. "You will sleep, my daughter. Tomorrow you will see your beloved, and the man you hate will be gone from your life."

  "I hope that everything goes to plan, Mother," Iona said anxiously. "What if the ipecac is not strong enough? What if we cannot get the horses ready in time?"

  "What if the sky falls down?" Donalda sighed. "We cannot think that way, Iona. I have another plan, but I will only use it as a very last resort. Please do not ask me what it is. Now drink your tea." She urged the cup towards Iona's mouth.

  Iona soon drifted off to sleep, her last waking moments filled with thoughts of her first night with Gregor. Now that she had lain with him, the thought of being in bed with the Fat Slug was repulsive. She would kill herself first.

  Donalda had no tea, but she slept anyway. Her course was set and her mind was at rest. She would see her daughter given in marriage to the man she loved. For herself, she cared nothing.

  When she woke up, Iona's first thought was of Gregor, wondering what he was thinking and how he was feeling. She was terrified, not that any harm might come to her, but that she would still be married to the Baron against her will. She had thought of somehow sneaking a large dose of milk of the poppy into his wine, but she was not a murderer, and neither were any of the others. The ipecac was the only way, but even that plan had many things that could go wrong. But there was still her mother's plan. She wondered what it was.

  Auguste was introduced to the prospective bridegroom by Craig. He bowed, smiling while noticing that the Baron could not bend at the waist because of his bulk.

  "Congratulations Monsieur," Auguste said, "you are marrying a wonderful young woman."

  "Thank you, sir," the Baron replied, "worth every penny I paid for her, I hope."

  Auguste laughed, although he felt a volcanic rage rising inside him.

  "Why do we not have a drink of wine to toast the marriage?" he suggested. He poured a glass of red wine from a bottle he had already prepared and pulled the Baron close as if to let him into a secret.

  "This wine comes from my cousin's vineyards in France," he whispered. "It is my favorite and I only have a few bottles, so I am keeping it for myself. But today I am sharing it with you since you are the most important person here today except for the bride."

  Hector Laughlin smiled from ear to ear. "I am honored to share your special vintage, sir!"

  Auguste smiled as the Baron drained the glass of wine he had poured. "Now, you will find that it has quite a sweet aftertaste, and is very pleasant, so do not have too much before the ceremony!"

  "I have a full glass already, as you can see." Auguste indicated his goblet, which was almost overflowing with an inoffensive red variety that he had already poured for himself. He held his glass up. "To the Baron and his bride!"

  Hector took a sip, savored it, and tossed the rest down his throat in one swallow. "This is excellent!" he said with great relish, "may I have another glass?"

  Auguste gave him another goblet, which disappeared in the same way, followed by another. Ipecac does not take long to work, especially in quantity, so Auguste knew that in a few moments, Hector Laughlin, Baron of Portree, would be voiding the contents of his stomach. These were bound to be considerable and would end up on the scrubbed stone-flagged Great Hall of Beglin Castle.

  Gregor was waiting for the moment when these would begin. He kept in eye contact with Auguste, who would give him the signal to fetch Iona. Till then, Auguste was going out of his way to be pleasant to the Baron, even though it was costing him dear - the man was revolting.

  Then it began. The Baron retched, swallowed, retched again, and a torrent of half-digested food came cascading out of his mouth to land in a stinking heap on the floor. There was a general exclamation of disgust, and all the wedding guests backed away, but the Baron, his eyes streaming, wiped the strings of vomit from his food and indicated that he would proceed with the ceremony.

  Another attack followed, this one worse than the last, then another. Then, at last, they seemed to have stopped. Auguste began to panic. "Sir, should you not change your clothes?" he asked anxiously.

  The Baron looked at Auguste full in the face and his eyes were burning with anger. "Damn it, man!" he shouted, "I will not let a little upset stomach get in the way of my wedding! I will not be any less married if my clothes are dirty!" He looked around him. "Where is my bride?" he bellowed.

  29

  Second Escape

  Iona was standing, waiting in her mother's bedroom. She had absolutely refused to wear the wedding dress that had been remade for her, voicing her opinion that she would never go willingly to the Baron's bed. Making it in the first place had been a ploy to fool her father into thinking she would go through with the ceremony. Instead, she was wearing a warm and sensible woolen dress over which there was a thick fur-lined cloak. Outwardly, she looked calm but pale. Inside she was a tangle of fear and dread.

  Donalda had her back to the bedroom door, listening for the summons that would call Iona to her doom. She was wearing an old riding habit with a cloak so that she could go with her daughter, and had packed warm clothes for both of them.

  Presently they heard footsteps and an almighty thud and clash as the door was hit by something heavy and metallic. Iona, feeling her heart leap within her, gave a little cry of fright. Donalda turned. The door was unlocked from the outside, and there stood Cameron with a heavy club in his hand and a huge grin on his face. He was standing over the inert body of the guard who had been doing his duty at the entrance to Donalda's bedroom.

  "Milady, I have been sent to escort you to your bridegroom," he said, with a mocking bow. His eyes were full of unholy glee as he turned the guard over, none too gently. He took a coil of rope and a large knife from his pocket and began to lash the guard's hands and feet together. Then Donalda handed him a scarf with which he gagged the unfortunate man.

  Iona watched as her mother put her riding veil over her face and donned a cloak, then she took a deep breath. "Has the Baron been sick?" she asked. Her heart was thudding.

  "Yes, but I am not sure if he has been sick enough," Cameron said grimly.

  Just then, they heard the Baron's voice, a hideous roar, calling for his bride. He had exited the Great Hall and was now standing in the atrium where the sound bounced and echoed off its high stone walls. Donalda and Cameron exchanged glances, and Donalda nodded.

  She took a deep breath. "Pray for me," she whispered, then, pulling down her veil, she descended the stairs.

  Iona started after her, but Cameron held her back.

  "Where is she going?" Iona was whimpering in distress, struggling to free herself from Cameron's unyielding grasp. "They will see her!"

  "But they will not see us," Cameron replied grimly, "obviously we underestimated the Baron's stubbornness, so we had to find another way. Wait, Iona. We will soon be free."

  As soon as the Baron and Donalda began to speak, the entire assembly of wedding guests were spellbound. This was a theatrical drama they had not expected, and it would make wonderful gossip at ceilidhs for years to come. From their vantage point upstairs, Cameron and Iona watched the scenario as it unfolded, and when the time was right they crept down, keeping behind the pillars and statues, then
they ran.

  The first person who saw Donalda coming down the stairs was the Baron. He frowned, puzzled, as she went up to him and curtsied. "Good day, Baron Laughlin," she said pleasantly, "may I congratulate you on marrying my daughter? You have made an excellent choice. She is a fine young woman."

  The Baron stared at her and it was all that Donalda could do to stand her ground. He stank of vomit. "Good day, madam," he replied, "I would prefer to look in the eye of with the person I am speaking to. Will you lift your veil please?"

  "Certainly," Donalda acquiesced. If the situation had not been so desperate she might have found it amusing. She lifted the veil then raised her eyes to his. She had pinned her hair back that morning so that the birthmark could be seen in all its awful glory.

  The Baron stood, frozen, for a moment then backed away with his hand over his mouth and his eyes wide with shock. Then he threw back his head and laughed, his jowls and his great belly rippling.

  "You lie, woman!" He continued to stare at her. "You cannot be Iona's mother - she is beautiful, and you are a monstrosity." He raked her from head to foot with a sweeping, scornful glance, and Donalda felt fury rise within her. However, she stayed calm.

  "Oh, but I am," she said evenly, "look at my features, not at my mark."

  Then she was interrupted by Craig. By this time a crowd of guests had gathered around them, everyone staring at Donalda's birthmark. Craig had seen the Baron leave, and was about to go to find Iona when he saw that Hector Laughlin was laughing with all his might at someone standing in front of him. As he stepped around the Baron's great bulk he was horrified to see Donalda standing in front of him, her ghastly mark uncovered. Craig had always been able to think on his feet. Now he stepped forward and began to laugh too.

  "Forgive me, Baron," he apologized, "this woman is a former maidservant of my wife's. Donalda feels sorry for her and will not let me send her away. She is quite, quite mad, and I do not know how she got out of the room we locked her in. The priest says she is not possessed by any demons, so I can only conclude that some terrible tragedy in her past has turned her mind. Guards! Take this poor woman to her room and lock her in."

  It did not happen.

  The man who arrived at the main gates of Beglin castle that day was shivering with cold and blowing his hands to keep them warm. He was dressed in the garments of a monk, but there was a woolen scarf around his neck pulled up to cover his mouth, and his cowl had been pulled down so that his face was almost covered.

  "Excuse me, my man," he said to one of the guards, pulling his scarf away from his face. "Where might I find the wedding of the maid Iona? I have a message to convey to her."

  The guards were freezing themselves and had no wish to stand out in the cold questioning the man, so they took him at his word. They pointed the way, to the chapel and went back inside the guard house to their warm fire. The monk crept into the chapel and stood behind a pillar watching the drama of the marked woman and the obese nobleman play itself out. But when the Baron began his bellowing, scathing laughter and Laird McCallum appeared, he made his move.

  Suddenly a strong masculine arm appeared around Craig's throat, and it began to squeeze the breath out of him. Craig made a strangled choking sound and tried to protest, but the arm simply tightened more. It was covered in the sleeve of a monk's habit, but the face of the man could not be seen because of the hood that was drooping down over his ears and nose.

  The man made a sharp backward movement of his head, causing the hood to fall, and uncovering his face. It had exactly the same purple-red birthmark as Donalda's. The crowd of guests gave a horrified gasp and stepped back a pace. At the same time, with a lightning fast movement, he produced a razor-sharp dagger from within a pocket of his robe. He held it to the Laird's throat, but did not loosen his hold.

  Craig's face was beginning to assume a purplish tinge. He tried with all his might to loosen the monk's hold on him but the man was too strong. He glared first at the assembly, then at the Baron.

  "My name is William McCallum," he said, his voice heavy with menace, "and I am the rightful heir to this estate. You may not believe that this woman is Iona's mother, Baron, or that I am her brother, but dare you take the chance? Your children may look like me."

  He smiled at the Baron, but it was a grim and wicked smile. "This condition that we have is hereditary. It is passed down from generation to generation, and it is in Iona's blood too. My father wanted to keep it from you because he needed your money, but my sister would rather kill herself than marry you."

  William paused to let this sink in for a while. The Baron stared back at him in disbelief; nothing like this had even occurred to him. How could the maid refuse him?

  "Now, I know that you have paid rather a lot of money for my sister, which you will not recover if I kill this worthless worm, so my best advice to you is to order his guards to let us escape, and we will make arrangements for you to get your money back."

  The Baron was almost as purple as Craig now. "What guarantee do I have that you will keep your word?" He spluttered.

  "None," William said smoothly, "we are men of honor, however, and once our word is given, it is kept. But in case you decide to come looking for us, know this." He moved forward, pushing Craig in front of him. When he was toe to toe with the Baron, he raised his voice so that all the assembly could hear.

  "I know your secret," he said calmly. "And if anything happens to me or to any one of my family, I will make sure it is broadcast to all and sundry. I have left letters of instruction with many men, half of them priests. Now let us out of here before I kill this man, because I assure you it will give me the greatest of pleasure!

  I will get a message to you telling you where he has hidden the money, but if you want the Laird of Beglin back, you will have to find him yourselves. But by that time, we will have disappeared, taking Iona with us. If I find out you have been following us, I will kill him, father or not." He looked the Baron up and down with utter disgust. "You really are a loathsome specimen of humanity."

  They walked towards the stables, where William mounted his horse with the aid of a terrified stable hand, forcing the Laird into the saddle in front of him. He had loosened his death grip on his father, but now he took off his scarf and wound it around Craig's neck so that he could pull it tight if he needed to. The dagger was still in his hand, poised just beside Craig's ribs.

  "Are you really a monk?" the Baron asked suddenly.

  "What do you think?" William replied.

  The Baron stood looking after him, incredulous. All of a sudden, he felt a sharp pain in his left knee. His gout was back again, worse than it had ever been before. This had been the worst day of his life.

  30

  Flight

  Gregor had sent Donalda and Iona ahead with Columba so that they could rendezvous at Gavin's house. Iona had wanted to stay and wait for Gregor but was persuaded that in this situation it was better for them to go on ahead. However, it did not stop her from being furious. Gavin had been a pillar of strength and had aided and supported Iona and Gregor in every way he could. As well as being their messenger and looking after Elisha, he had helped Gregor to hide their horses till just before the escape so that they could get away as quickly as possible.

  Now the McCallum family, together with Gregor, Auguste, and Columba were on their way to freedom, and the Baron had not been able to lift a finger to stop them. When they got to the cottage where Gavin's family waited for them, the first thing Donalda did was to rush to embrace Elisha. The old woman clung to her mistress and both of them wept tears of joy.

  Iona dismounted and rushed straight into Gregor's arms. He breathed an enormous sigh of relief. "Thank God," he cried, "thank God you are well, my love."

  "Gregor, I was so afraid for you," she confessed and looked tenderly into his eyes. "I know you had to help but I was imagining all sorts of things."

  William, who had been waiting in the background, came up to Iona and they looked at each o
ther for a few moments. "There is so much I want to say to you," Iona said at last, "so many questions—I have no idea where to begin. I did not know of your existence till last week. But the first thing I want to say is 'thank you.'"

  "I knew of yours," he replied. "I always have done. Mother came to see me often. Father paid so little attention to her that he never knew where she was from one day to the next, so I know her and love her. I would do anything for her, so when she asked me to come and help I was only too glad to do so." He looked up at Cameron, "my brother, I wish to tell you everything, but we must leave as quickly as possible, so it will have to wait till we can safely stop and rest."

  "Tell me just one thing," Iona asked, "are you really a monk?"

  "What do you think?" William smiled at her, "I said that I would tell you my story, and I will. I want to hear everything about you too, but now we must hurry. I want to get to Portree within three days. The ship sails on Tuesday, and if we miss it we will have to wait another three or four days depending on the weather. The Baron is not an honorable man and may try to get to your father anyway. Also, we still have to pick up your friend."

  "But if he does that, you will tell everyone his secret," Iona pointed out, frowning. She noticed that William had said 'your father' and not 'our father.' "What is his secret?"

  William ignored the question, but went up to his father. He held the dagger in front of his eyes, where it glinted along the edge of its deadly blade in the fitful sunlight. "I promise you, you swine, that if I see them following us I will kill you. Cameron and the others may hesitate, but I. WILL. NOT! Do you understand me?"

  Craig nodded, terrified.

  "You will tell me where you have hidden the money when we are in Portree, or close by, and I will send a message back to the Baron. Remember that when he has his money, you will be good for nothing. You will be of no use to him and a liability to us, and I have no intention of paying your passage back to the mainland. Think about that as we ride along."