The Banished Highlander

by Keira Montclair

  “You were a fool to come here on your own, Cameron. Did you really believe you could sneak inside without being seen? Did you think to kill me in my bed while I slept?”

  The smirk on his face told Ruari he wasn’t going to fight him. He’d hoped to ignite the man’s competitive side, but perhaps he didn’t have one.

  “You don’t have the guts to fight me, do you?” Ruari asked.

  Munro’s response was to make his way back to his seat behind the dais. “I have a meal to finish,” he said. Then he nodded to his guards and said, “Take him outside and show him who will be marrying Lady Juliana. Mess him up good but don’t kill him.”

  “Why not, Chief? We could entertain ourselves for a long time with a slow kill,” one of his guards commented.

  “I still need a priest from Lochluin Abbey to marry us. They’ll not do that if we kill a Cameron.”

  Seven men headed straight toward him, and Ruari did his best to take as many of the bastards down as he could with his fists, but he knew he wouldn’t get very far. The odds were not in his favor.

  “Could you not take him outside before there’s bloodshed in my hall?” Munro said in a bored tone. “Remember, I don’t want him dead. Beat him and send him back on his horse.”

  The remaining men grabbed him from behind. They carried him out the door while he kicked and punched as many of them as possible. Once they had him outside the gates, three of the men held him down while the rest beat him.

  One punch to the face caught him just right and he blacked out.

  His last thought was he’d been a fool for certain this time.

  ***

  When he awakened, every part of his body ached, even parts he hadn’t known he possessed. He was face down across his horse and the animal moved across the Highland meadow but stopped at a whistle.

  Ruari was in too much pain to even lift his head. A familiar voice called out to him, “Are you alive, you fool?”

  That could only be Padraig. Ruari tried to speak, but his voice came out in a moan.

  “Could you not have at least taken me along with you?” Padraig asked, his voice coming closer. “I know you are too proud to have told your brother or taken any guards, but I could have helped.” He put his hand under Ruari’s chin and lifted his head. “Hellfire, they did a fine job beating you, did they not? You’ll not be able to see Juliana out of those eyes. Your wedding will be postponed for at least a fortnight.”

  The lad grabbed his horse’s reins, stopping him, and said, “Come. You must sit up on your horse. I know it will pain you, but ’tis the only way I can get you home. I know a healer not far from here. We can stop to see her first. Clean you up so you can see the land in front of you.”

  “Nay, Jennie…”

  “You’ll not make it to Jennie. We’re stopping. The healer’s hut is in the forest not a half hour from here. Now sit up.”

  Ruari groaned as he did his best to shift himself up to sitting on the saddle.

  “How many?”

  “Seven? Ten? Don’t recall much.” He spat a stream of blood and dirt off to the side.

  Padraig handed him his skin. “Drink, but not too much.”

  Ruari did as he was told because his head hurt too much for him to think. Why the hell had he been so incautious?

  “Never make decisions in anger. You’ll always regret them. Did your sire not teach you that?”

  Ruari shook his head.

  “Seems you prefer to learn in your own way. Stubborn fool. Can you sit?”

  Ruari nodded, finally pulling himself the rest of the way up, and took the reins.

  “Good. I’ll be right behind you. Just stay straight, don’t tip, and don’t close your eyes. Do you hear me, cousin?”

  Ruari nodded, doing his best to follow instructions, but it was truly difficult. After they began moving, his mind did start functioning enough for him to realize he was grateful his cousin had thought to follow him.

  The short distance took forever, but they finally arrived at the healer’s hut.

  “What’s her name?” he choked out.

  “Grizella,” Padraig said. “She may not have the talent of Jennie, but she’s been around a long time. My mother knows all the healers in the land, especially the older ones.” He dismounted, then stopped Ruari’s fall as he tried to do the same. “You’re barely walking. I may not get you home for a sennight.” He managed to position him so Ruari leaned against him for support. “And when the hell did you get so large across the shoulders?”

  Grizella saw them coming and greeted them at the door of her small hut, situated close to a nearby burn. “Is that not the Cameron lord?” she asked, leaning on a shortened piece of wood with a gnarl at the end that she could grip with her hand. A diminutive person, she seemed even shorter because of her rounded shoulders. Her uneven gait carried her across to the burn to fill an urn with water as she motioned for the two to enter her hut.

  “Aye, ’tis Ruari Cameron, Aedan’s only brother,” Padraig said with a groan as he squeezed through the small door with Ruari still leaning on him. “A few Munros had some fun with him.”

  Grizella followed them in, clucking her tongue, and directed Padraig to set him down on a pallet off to the side. The hut was suffused with the smell of a fine stew roasting over the hearth, along with the scent of multiple dried herbs. “Get yourself a bowl of stew for getting this big lad here alive,” the older healer said, waving to Padraig.

  Padraig settled him on the pallet, then went for the stew, filling a bowl to the brim.

  “Are you not Doirin’s husband?” the healer asked as she approached the pallet. “The poor lass who died too young?”

  “Aye,” Padraig said with a mouthful of food of stew. “He was.”

  “You knew her?” Ruari asked. It surprised him to hear it. With Jennie as their chieftain’s wife, no one from Clan Cameron had much call to visit another healer. Besides, Doirin had never mentioned such a thing to him.

  “Well, my lord, I feel compelled to tell you something while I clean up those wounds.”

  Ruari winced when she started with the one deep wound he had from a sword.

  “Sorry, my lord, but this one gets cleaned first. ’Tis the most likely to fester. I’ll clean it, sew it up, then apply my poultice, the same one your brother’s dear wife uses.” She reached for another linen square and dipped it into the basin of cool water.

  “Do as you must. I’ll not move.” He gritted his teeth as she did her worst. “What was it you wished to tell me?

  She sighed and said, “Sometimes I dinnae like my healing chores. Your wife came to me often to acquire the potion that would keep her from getting with child.”

  Shock seemed to banish his pain. Ruari sat up to stare at her. “What did you say? I fear my mind is clouded with fever already.”

  “Nay, my lord.” She pushed his shoulders back down onto the pallet and continued to clean the blood and dirt from his skin. “’Struth. She did not wish to carry. Ever.”

  Padraig came over to stand at the end of his pallet, gawking at them while he continued to slurp his stew. He shook his head as he swallowed. “I may not have spent much time with her, but I’m not surprised to hear it. Your wife wasn’t good for you, my friend.”

  Ruari jolted where he lay. “There is a potion for such a thing? How does it work? Do you lose a bairn once you’re carrying or…”

  Grizella’s gnarled hand settled on his arm. “Lad, you’ve no need to know the details. She did not wish to become with child and I gave her what she needed.”

  “But why? Why would you do that?” Ruari was stunned that the possibility existed, much less that it worked. “Why not tell me?”

  “Och, you ask good questions, my lord. All I’ll say is that I’ve always considered it my duty as a healer to help the person who walks through that door. ’Tis not my place to pass judgment. I’d never kill a live bairn, but I can easily help prevent one from happening.”

  Ruari lay back and star
ed at the thatch over his head. That last day he’d begged Doirin to see Jennie, hoping she could help them, and Doirin had adamantly refused.

  She’d feared that he would learn the truth.

  And that was why she’d ridden away in such a fury.

  Or had it been sheer panic?

  Not because of something he’d done. She’d been fearful of the possibility that she would be caught.

  As far as he was concerned, Doirin might as well have been unfaithful.

  She hadn’t cared for him at all.

  Chapter Twenty

  Juliana’s sire and Ailbeart Munro returned three days later, as promised. The sick feeling she’d been harboring inside her gut turned suddenly worse. Each day, she’d hoped Ruari would return and claim her. That he’d take her to wife like he’d promised. But he hadn’t come. He hadn’t come, and now time had run out.

  Joan was always quick to remind her there was another solution—she could still take her vows—but Juliana’s heart wasn’t in it.

  And so, she’d be leaving her sister and going off to marry the chieftain of Clan Munro.

  He greeted her immediately in the hall. “You look especially lovely this day. You grow more beautiful every time I see you. How do you fare?” He took her hand and kissed the back of it, leaving a wet mark that made her want to cringe.

  It struck her again that the man’s looks didn’t match his nature. He was particularly dashing today, his hair neatly combed even after traveling across the windy Highland meadows.

  “Where is the ring I gave you?” He held up both of her hands to check for it.

  The hard edge in his tone made her tremble.

  “I gave it back to you,” she said, suddenly afraid of what he would do next.

  He gave her an odd look, spinning on his heel and going off to speak to one of his men, who promptly nodded, though she had no idea what they discussed.

  Returning with a smile on his face, he said to her, “My apologies. I was wrong. My second reminded me that I left it in my keep. No matter. I’ll place it on your finger as soon as we arrive at Munro Castle.”

  She didn’t quite know what to say, so she just smiled.

  He went on, “My clan is anxious to meet their lady. I’ll take you to Edinburgh and hire the finest dressmaker to make a new wardrobe for you. The mistress of my clan must look appropriately regal.” His gaze traveled down the length of her simple wool gown, stopping at two places—her breasts and the place it was worn from her hands settling on her lap.

  She resisted the urge to cover herself.

  They gathered together at a trestle table near the hearth. Joan sat beside her, holding her hand for encouragement, her sire and Ailbeart across the table.

  “Papa, I’d like to travel with you, if you don’t mind,” Joan announced, something that she and Juliana hadn’t discussed.

  “Why?” His gaze narrowed at Joan.

  Joan didn’t seem put off by his response. “If you recall, I had asked that Juliana spend a moon with me. You agreed to send her for a fortnight, but our time together has been drastically shortened. I’d like to spend as much time as possible with her. We can still talk if we ride abreast.”

  “Nay, you need to stay here. You are a nun and should not be riding about. I’ll take care of Juliana.”

  To her surprise, Joan shifted to look at Ailbeart. “Laird Munro, if you please, I would like a word alone with my sire.”

  He nodded politely, although Juliana couldn’t help but think it was a false gesture. “I’d be happy to step aside so that you might say your goodbyes. Clavelle, I’ll meet you at the stables within the hour so we can be on our way.”

  “’Tis not necessary,” their sire said, glaring at Joan.

  She quickly retorted, “Aye, ’tis most necessary.”

  Munro stood and held his palm up to their father, staying him. “’Tis no problem. I would expect a private farewell.”

  As soon as he left the hall, their father exploded, “Joan, you must stop annoying our guest. Juliana will be married to him soon, and I do not wish to anger him. He is a powerful nobleman.”

  “Papa, I asked him to leave because I wish to speak with you. Can you not see that he is not right for Juliana?”

  Richard Clavelle’s face turned a dark shade of red. “You will not try to undermine the arrangements I’ve made for your sister. Out of respect for the church, I allowed her to come here to see if she’d like to follow your path, but it’s clear she will be much happier married and caring for bairns. Stop trying to remake her in your own image.”

  All this time, no one had asked Juliana what she wanted for the future. No one had cared. She decided it was time for her to speak her mind, whether they wished to listen or not. Even if Ruari did not still care for her. “Papa, you are correct about one thing.”

  His face relaxed, and though she knew he’d not be happy about the rest of her statement, she plunged ahead. “I am not interested in taking my vows, but I don’t wish to marry Laird Munro. I love Ruari Cameron. He is the Cameron chieftain’s brother, so he is of noble blood, and he is a most honorable man. I wish you would reconsider…”

  She stopped because her father abruptly stood from the table, knocking the bench over. “You will both hear me now. Juliana, you will marry Laird Munro in less than a sennight, and that decision is final. I care nothing for this upstart Ruari Cameron. Joan, you will not travel with us. I blame you for putting these foolish ideas into her head. You were always a difficult lass, and now you’re trying to poison your sister. You’ll marry him, Juliana, and that’s final!” His last words were spoken in a roar.

  Joan did not back down. “He paid you heavily with coin, did he not?”

  “I will not answer that. The decision is made and it is final. I make the decisions for my daughters because I’m your sire and I know best. A lass is not smart enough to make her own decisions.”

  Joan’s face twisted with anger, but she didn’t respond. Juliana couldn’t think of anything to say either. She’d never seen her sire so angry, so cruel. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know if there was anything she could do. The law dictated that her sire could make arrangements for her as he saw fit.

  If only Ruari had come for her…

  Now, she feared it was too late.

  ***

  Ruari lifted his head off the pillow of his bed, groaning as pain coursed through him. Would it never end?

  “How many days have passed since I saw the healer, Padraig?” His friend had just entered the chamber with two goblets of ale and a hunk of bread. He forced himself to sit up and accepted the drink, gulping greedily.

  “Three,” the lad replied, biting off a chunk of bread. “Hellfire, but your cook makes the best bread ever.”

  “Three? What the hell! Why didn’t you wake me? I have to marry Juliana before her sire returns for her. ’Tis the only way.” He threw back the covers and shifted his legs to the side of the bed.

  “Because your brother stopped in after his wife checked you over. He said if you tried moving any sooner, he’d tie us both to the bed. I like you, cousin, but not enough to be tied to a bed with you.”

  Ruari groaned and stood up to grab his plaid from the chest next to the wall, nearly collapsing to the floor. Padraig dropped his loaf of bread and barely managed to catch him. “Cameron, you have not eaten in three days. You’ll not be able to stand up until you eat something.”

  Ruari ran his hand down his leg. “I only had a few bruises,” he said, panting. “Why is this so difficult?”

  “Because they beat the shite out of you. I’d say three fists for each bruise. Not to mention the twenty stitches Grizella placed.”

  He sat down, gasping at the effort it had taken him to stand. “Is Juliana still at the abbey?”

  “Aye. But her sire’s returned for her, and I hear they’ll be leaving by midday. ’Tis why I’m here—to get you up before she leaves.”

  “Many thanks for that, but you could have awake
ned me yesterday.” He dressed himself, the work painstakingly slow, and grabbed two daggers from his chest.

  “You’ll not beat anyone if you don’t gain some strength back,” Padraig observed as Ruari put his boots on. “You must eat, fool.” He’d settled into a chair and retrieved his hunk of bread.

  “Then I’ll eat on the way there.” Although he could not deny Padraig had a point. He was struggling to put on his boots, his body weaving back and forth.

  “If you’re wise, you’ll speak with your brother about sending someone with you this time.”

  “Are you not coming with me?” he asked, arranging the daggers inside his boots.

  “For certes, but Munro has twenty warriors with him. I’m sure many of them who are with him”—he waved at Ruari as if to indicate his poor state—“are the same ones who had their fun with you. Think you the two of us can take on twenty, especially in the condition you’re in?”

  Ruari moved over to the door and stopped, turning to his friend, still sitting there chewing on his bread. He barked, “Are you quite comfortable, Grant? Am I interrupting your rest? Are you capable of chewing while we walk down the stairs?”

  Padraig wrinkled his nose and said, “That depends.”

  “On what?” Ruari bellowed.

  “On whether you are smart enough to ask your brother for help. I’m not going with you if you’re going to your death. I’d rather chew on bread than watch you skewered by twenty men. Your face still looks like hell. Your lass won’t want to marry you looking as you do.”

  Ruari growled. “Fine. I’ll speak with my brother, take a dozen guards or so, and grab a pheasant’s leg on the way out. Is there anything else I need to do to make you happy?”

  “Nay. I’m right behind you.” He jumped out of his chair with a chuckle and followed Ruari down the stairs. “Do not fault me for your own stubbornness.”

  A few minutes later, a hunk of cheese in hand, Ruari caught up with his brother in the courtyard. “Aedan, I need at least a dozen men to go after Juliana.”

  “I’d prefer to send them to beat the men who dared to hurt my brother. I just need you to tell me where to send them.” Aedan looked him up and down, probably to decide whether or not Ruari was capable of leaving. He’d prove he was more than capable.