My Highland Spy

by Victoria Roberts

  “Slàinte mhath.” Good health.

  “Do dheagh shlàinte,” the men replied. Your good health.

  Ruairi placed his tankard on the desk and fingered the lip. “Torquil isnae well.”

  Ian’s cup froze in midair and he looked at Ruairi over the rim. “What do ye mean?”

  “He fell down the steps to the great hall. His head cracked on the stone floor and he isnae yet conscious.”

  “Och, Ruairi. Will the lad be all right?” With a solemn look on his face, Ian placed his tankard on the desk. “Then take me to him. I must see him, wish him well.”

  “There is naught ye can do. In truth, there is naught any of us can do until he wakes up. Ravenna, Mistress Denny, stays with him now.”

  There was a heavy silence.

  Ian leaned forward and tapped his hand on the desk. “If there is anything I can do, anything at all, please let me know. Torquil is like my blood. Damn, Ruairi. How do ye fare?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve had better days. Although my son’s health worries me greatly, there are other matters upon us. The last time we spoke, I know we discussed that ye’d return and we’d tell the Gordon to go to hell together, but some things have changed.”

  “What do ye mean? What things?” asked Ian warily. When Ruairi took a moment to respond, Ian added, “Sput a-mach e, Ruairi.” Spit it out.

  “My beloved wife’s sister has been stealing my coin.”

  Ian’s jaw dropped. “Surely ye’re jesting.”

  “I wish I was. I discovered Cotrìona in the tunnels, coin in hand.”

  Ian slid his cup toward Ruairi. “Fill it up.”

  Eighteen

  Ravenna stood, her back tight with strain. She shivered with chill and fatigue. It had been an uncomfortable night sitting in the hard chair as she kept vigil over Torquil. She knew she could’ve rested beside him on the bed, but she wanted to stay awake for Ruairi—who never came. God, she was so tired of sitting, tired of standing and, frankly, tired of waiting. She was by no means a healer, but she was sensible enough to recognize that the longer Torquil remained in this state, the more difficult it had to be for the boy to wake up.

  She approached the washbowl with a cloth, then wrung it out and walked over to the bed. When she wiped Torquil’s face, a tiny bead of water dropped on his eyelid. She could’ve sworn he squinted. Pulling back, she watched him, studying every move he did or did not make. To her dismay, he made none. There was a knock on the door and the healer entered, followed by a maid.

  “Mistress Denny, Laird Sutherland asked me to bring ye a tray. He said he’ll join ye later after his guests depart.”

  “Has Laird Gordon arrived, then?”

  The maid placed the tray on the table and wiped her hands on her apron. “I donna know, Mistress Denny.”

  “That’s all right. Thank you.”

  The maid left the room and the healer approached the bed. She lifted Torquil’s bandages and checked his wound. Now that Ruairi wasn’t around, Ravenna couldn’t pass up the opportunity to question the woman.

  “I didn’t want to mention anything to Laird Sutherland in the event I was mistaken, but I think I saw Torquil possibly move on two different occasions. Not much, mind you, but I’m hoping I didn’t imagine it.”

  “’Tis quite possible ye didnae imagine it, but since the lad hasnae opened his eyes, I’d have to say what ye saw might be his muscles twitching a time or two.”

  Ravenna slapped her hands together and stared at them. She hadn’t noticed the strained tone in her voice. “Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?” She was so frustrated that she started to pace. “His head stopped bleeding. Ruairi…er, Laird Sutherland and I have checked the bandages, we’ve bathed his face, held his hand… Praise the saints. There has to be something.”

  “I’m afraid we’ve done everything we can. The rest is up to him.”

  “Then think of something else,” Ravenna bit out. When she realized her words had come out more harshly than she intended, she added, “Please, perhaps there is some kind of herb treatment that we haven’t yet thought of.”

  The healer smiled at her with compassion. “Tha mi duilich, Mistress Denny.” I am sorry.

  Ravenna didn’t need to understand the Gaelic words to comprehend their meaning. She merely nodded and resumed her place by Torquil’s side. “Thank you for all you have done.”

  ***

  The Gordon and Cotrìona were escorted into Ruairi’s solar. Thank God for Fagan and Ian because Ruairi didn’t think he could manage this one on his own. He needed his friends close by to make certain he didn’t reach over the desk and kill the Gordon and his daughter.

  The Gordon shook his head almost regretfully, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “I didnae know my daughter was stealing your coin.”

  Ruairi smirked. “She’s been stealing my coin to support your damn cause.”

  The Gordon leaned forward, placing his arm on the desk. “Understand this, Sutherland. When ye wed my daughter, ye were supposed to protect her. She was under your roof, your protection, and now she’s dead.”

  “Anna’s death was an accident.”

  “So ye say.” The Gordon sounded like he didn’t believe Ruairi’s words. “Ye know our alliance was important to Anna, and of course Cotrìona was close to her sister. But where Anna failed, Cotrìona yearns to succeed. I donna make excuses for Cotrìona’s behavior and I donna agree with the way she went about stealing your coin, but I understand why she did what she did. She is my blood. She knows where her loyalties lie. Nevertheless, I will make certain she gives ye back all the coin she has stolen from ye. I promise ye that.” He turned to Cotrìona and gave her a pointed look. “Isnae that right, Daughter?”

  Ignoring her father’s question, she gazed at Ruairi. “What are ye going to do now? Will ye give my father what he asks of ye or nae?”

  “Tha I beag-nàire,” spat Ian. She’s got no shame.

  Anna whipped her head around to Ian. “Trusdar. Dè do ghnothaich!” Bastard. Mind your own business!

  Ian stood and his expression was flat, unreadable as stone—at least for the Gordon and Cotrìona. But Ruairi recognized that look. Ian’s eyes were filled with dislike.

  There was a heavy moment of silence.

  “Please donna let my daughter’s stupidity interfere with the matter at hand. Patrick Stewart’s son, Robert—”

  “Illegitimate son,” said Ruairi.

  “Robert Stewart needs armed men in Orkney. If ye and Munro join us, we will be seven hundred strong,” the Gordon said, his voice rising proudly. “First, we will seize the Palace of Birsay, then Kirkwall Castle and St. Magnus Cathedral. We will restore justice in Orkney once and for all. ’Tis verra important that we regain control because we sure as hell donna want King James and his bloody laws coming to the Highlands any more than they already do. By reclaiming Orkney, we take a stand. We send a message to the English that our Scottish blood runs hot and cannae be tamed.”

  Ruairi’s eyes narrowed. “I cannae help but wonder why ye tell us this so freely, Gordon. I donna think Stewart would take too kindly to ye having told us his stratagem.”

  “Och, Sutherland, one thing is for certain. Ye and I may have our skirmishes, petty reiving and the like, but we Highlanders are united and stand together for one cause. We both hate those English bastards. And that ye certainly cannae deny.”

  Ruairi stole a glance at Fagan and Ian. This was their last chance to change their minds. The time was now or never. As he had expected, Ian gave him a subtle nod and Fagan simply smiled.

  ***

  Torquil moaned and Ravenna flew to her feet.

  “Torquil, can you hear me?” When he didn’t answer, she said the only thing she knew in Gaelic. “Ciamar a tha sibh?” How are you?

  “Tha mo cheann goirt.” When she didn’t answer, he must’ve realized she didn’t understand because he quickly added, “I have headache.”

  She laughed and rubbed her hand gently over his head. “I
’m sure you do. You gave us all a scare. Can you see all right? Can you move?”

  He opened his eyes and gave her a wry grin, just like his father. “I see ye.” He lifted his hand to his head and groaned. “Where is Da?”

  “He’s below stairs with… I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” She walked hastily around the bed and swung open the door. She called for a maid and had the woman seek the healer.

  “Shhh…Ravenna, donna scream overmuch, my head. How is Angus?”

  She moved and sat down beside the boy on the bed. Seeing the pained expression on Torquil’s face, she lowered her voice and spoke in hushed tones. “John has been caring for him in the stables. He’s doing much better. I know he misses you, too.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “John thinks it was something he ate, but I assure you, Angus is well. I’m certain you’ll be able to see him soon.”

  “Good. I worried.”

  “Worried? You, my dear boy, had us all worried about you. You’ve been out for days.”

  “Days?”

  “Yes, days. We’ve barely left your side. Your father has been mad with worry. He’s going to be so relieved to see you’re all right. Does anything hurt besides your head? Can you move your arms and legs?”

  “Aye, but I donna want.” He raised his hand and held it again to his head. “Every when I move, my head hurts.”

  “Every time you move?”

  “Ravenna, nay correct me. Be thankful I nae speak Gaelic to ye. English pains me enough.”

  She laughed. “Torquil, as long as you’re awake, you could speak anything to me.”

  The healer entered the room and smiled. “’Tis wonderful to see ye awake, laddie.”

  “Please be silent. If I donna hold my head with hands, it fall from shoulders. It hurts.”

  “’Tis to be expected. Ye took quite the fall down the stairs. Your head is still healing.”

  He turned and looked at Ravenna. “I want Da.”

  Ravenna bent and gave Torquil a gentle kiss on the forehead. “I’m so relieved to see you are well.” Her fingers squeezed the tip of his chin. “I’m going to go fetch your father now, but you do what the healer tells you to do.”

  “Aye.”

  She made her way through the halls, and even her walk had a sunny cheerfulness. Her heart sang with delight. Torquil was all right. This dreaded nightmare had finally come to an end. Ruairi was more than likely meeting with the Gordon, but she knew Ruairi’s son meant more to him than the beastly Cotrìona or her conniving father. Although Ravenna had given a promise not to intervene, she knew Ruairi would want to know Torquil was awake.

  Reaching the study door, Ravenna was lifting her hand to knock when she heard raised voices from within.

  “I was hoping my daughter’s actions didnae weigh against our cause, because we move within a fortnight. I want four hundred of your finest men.”

  There was a brief silence.

  “My father asked ye for men,” spat Cotrìona. “At least give him the courtesy of an answer.”

  “I donna believe ye comprehend how this is going to work, Gordon. Cotrìona will repay all the coin she has stolen from the Sutherland coffers. Ye will repay me and the Munro five cattle each for slaughtering our animals on our own lands. Ye will take Cotrìona home with ye, and she will ne’er again set foot on my lands. And most importantly, both of ye are to stay away from Torquil. In turn, ye are free to take your leave and I will nae have my men raise arms against ye.”

  “Ye cannae be serious. Give my father the men he requires to take back Orkney from the English. Ye owe him that much for my sister’s death.”

  “Silence, Daughter!” the Gordon bellowed.

  Ruairi smirked. “That’s the wisest thing I’ve ever heard ye say.”

  “This is far from over, Sutherland. Who’s to say what will come next for ye? Mayhap cattle this day, a bonny governess the next?” He turned to Munro. “The same for ye, except for the bonny governess, of course.”

  “The time for games has passed. If any of your men set foot on my lands or Munro’s, we will hold nay mercy. Blood will be spilled.”

  Nineteen

  Ruairi opened the door to his study and waited for Cotrìona and her father to depart. The sooner he could get the Gordon and his devil daughter out from under his roof, the better. As the men had predicted, the Gordon wasn’t surprised by Ruairi’s refusal. He had denied his father-in-law’s requests so many times that the man should’ve come to expect it. One thing was evident. The Gordon was thirsty for power—now more than ever. Ruairi would be sure not to take his threats lightly.

  The Gordon, Ian, and Fagan walked down the hall. When Cotrìona reached Ruairi at the door, she stopped and stared at him. He wished she would move along. The woman was poison, defecating on everything and everyone around her. She cared for no one but herself and her father. Ruairi stiffened when she reached out and placed her hand on his chest.

  “Just answer me one question. How could ye?”

  A war of emotions raged within him. He looked down at her hand and swept it away hastily, as if her mere touch carried the plague. “Let me make something perfectly clear to ye, Cotrìona. This has naught to do with ye, even though ye might find that difficult to believe. I think of my son, my clan, their future. I am nae a fool. I will nae raise arms against the English to help the Gordon gain Stewart’s favor. The conditions I made to your father left nay room for misunderstanding. Let me be the first to remind ye.” His voice hardened. “Ye arenae to set foot on my lands again, and ye and your father are to stay far away from Torquil. Do ye hear me? Do ye understand?”

  She shrugged with indifference. “I donna seek to establish any kind of relationship with him. My sister gave ye your heir. Do with him what ye will.” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “All Anna and I ever sought was for ye to honor my father, and ye’ve ne’er fulfilled the duty that ye were sworn to do. I only wish my sister could’ve been here to see this. She could ne’er stand the sight of ye before, but who knows? Mayhap after this she would’ve thrown ye off the cliff in her stead.” She leaned forward and tapped him playfully on the chest. “I wish ye and your son well, Ruairi. I’d also watch your back because ye donna know who will try to stab it.”

  He glowered at her and turned away. As he listened to Cotrìona’s footsteps tread down the hall, he closed his eyes and thumped his head back against the door several times in frustration. His eyes flew open when a hand reached out and touched him.

  “Ruairi…” Ravenna’s face was pale and pinched.

  He stood to his full height. “What is it? What has happened?”

  “It’s Torquil. Your son is awake.”

  ***

  “Och, Torquil, God has given me the greatest of gifts on this day.” A cry of relief broke from Ruairi’s lips.

  Torquil’s eyes widened when his father’s body shook. His small hand rubbed Ruairi’s back. “Da, please donna cry for me. Tha mo cheann goirt, ’tis all.” I have a headache.

  Ruairi chuckled and when he lifted his head, the tears were gone, as if they had been evaporated by a rush of wind. “All ye have is a headache, eh? Howbeit ye worried me greatly.” He looked over at Ravenna and held out his hand, gesturing her beside him. “Ravenna hasnae left your side. She talked to ye, held your hand through the night.”

  “She said the same of ye.” Torquil brought his hand to his head and moaned. “It pains me to talk.”

  “Then be silent. As long as ye’re awake, ’tis all that matters.”

  “I’m hungry. Time to sup?”

  Ruairi laughed. “I think my son is getting better.”

  Ravenna gave Ruairi a smile and then placed her hand on Torquil’s shoulder. “I’ll get you something to eat. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “Aye, I’d like Angus.”

  She nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Ravenna felt as though her head was going to explode. She was relieved that Torq
uil was awake and Ruairi’s heavy heart was finally lifted, but she was so confused. The bloody Gordon wanted Ruairi and Laird Munro to give him men and arms to use against the English. She knew the Scots hated the English, but she didn’t believe for a single minute that Ruairi shared the Gordon’s views. At least, she hoped not.

  It was nearly time for the midday meal when Ravenna went to the kitchens. While she instructed the maid to deliver the tray to Torquil, a warm voice spoke from behind her.

  “They finally took their leave,” said Fagan with a heavy sigh.

  She turned around and smiled. “I assume Cotrìona returned with her father, then?”

  “Praise the saints for small favors. Ian departed as well.”

  “Did you hear the good news yet?”

  He lifted a brow. “I could use some about now,” he said dryly.

  “Torquil is awake.”

  His eyes widened. “Truly? Is he all right?”

  “He’s fine. Do you want to take this tray of food up to him? I promised I would try to fetch Angus from the stables.”

  Fagan chuckled. “Are ye sure ye donna want to take the tray and I’ll fetch Angus?”

  “The thought had crossed my mind, but no, you go. Torquil will be glad to see you. Ruairi is there with him now.”

  He grabbed the tray with a wry grin. “I assume ye will—well, yell or scream if ye need anything.”

  She rolled her eyes and shooed him away. “Off with you.”

  Ravenna made her way to the stables. She would’ve given Torquil anything he’d asked of her if only to see him hale. She opened the door, and when the musty smell of hay tickled her nose, she let out a loud sneeze. She turned her head and smiled when the horses stood in a line side by side, heads all staring in her direction. She called for Angus, and when she didn’t see or hear anything other than the occasional whinny, she walked out behind the barn. Perhaps she could find John.

  She didn’t have to look far because he was there shoveling muck out of the stalls. Huge mounds of horse manure were scattered about. She lifted her skirts and walked on the tips of her toes to approach him, mindful to avoid the mess.