A small cluster of huts awaited them within a valley that lay hidden still behind distant hills. It was the farthest outpost before MacKenzie territory ended and Clan Ross began. It also marked the final stop, after which Alex and his men could journey home to Creag de Sonas. For three weeks, they had ridden from croft to croft, encountering bleak poverty every step of the way. Despite Alex’s efforts, with each passing year, conditions only grew worse.
At last, the valley spread out before them in varying shades of gray. Winter had come early just as it had for years and no doubt would linger long past its seasonal due. Children in tattered rags and bare feet spotted their approach and bounded toward them. When they drew closer, Alex smiled at the raggedy gang, bringing an abrupt halt to their race. They froze with eyes wide open and mouths agape the instant before they ducked behind the nearest hut.
Jamie shrugged. “A full year has passed since our last visit. They do not know us. They’re right to fear strangers, especially now when an ill wind blows all manner of wicked souls to our doorsteps.”
Alex smiled. “Ye’re a good friend. Even after all these years, ye still try to pretend away what I am.”
“What ye are is a great man.”
“I would settle for being a good man,” he said absently while scanning the grounds.
“Ye’re that too,” Jamie said with conviction.
As they rode into the small crofting community, Alex angled his head so that the left side of his face, the undamaged side, was more prominent. By then the children had sounded the alarm. Their parents raced from within long, thatched huts, or popped up from fields where they had no doubt been foraging for something missed during the harvest.
“Alexander,” an older man called out. He had a long gray beard that swayed when he walked and broad shoulders stooped with age. “What news have ye brought?”
Alex slid from his horse and strode over to greet his kinsman. “Nothing that bears repeating I’m afraid.” He clasped the older man’s shoulder. “Happy I am to see ye, Thomas. How have ye faired this year past?”
“The days are short and cold, yet we survive, keeping watch over your borders as ever.”
“Have ye heard from Ross?”
“The air is fresher on Ross soil,” Thomas said. “I do not ken why. I’ve spoken with Camran Ross who keeps a croft beyond Rionnag loch. He said the wolves still darken their forest but their people fair better.”
Alex’s mind drifted back to the night of the fire, when the darkness first descended upon their land, and the heart of the MacKenzie clan had been burned alive. His mother and all the famed MacKenzie horses had died, taking the clan’s hope with them to heaven.
“Where our fortune had once come from horses, William Ross has filled his coffers with grain sold at market. No doubt their planting skills surpass our own. Mayhap they’ve discovered remedies to combat the crop sickness, though I cannot imagine how they’ve managed to contend with the shortened growing season.”
“Camran did say they were rotating fields, leaving them to fallow for two seasons. We’ve let the stretch down by the stream sit since last season. We plan to leave it fallow for another to see if the plants grow stronger.”
Alex nodded his approval and was about to ask after Thomas’s family when his friend continued. “Camran Ross said something else that struck me as odd. He complained that Laird Ross has become some kind of recluse. As it is, his only living daughter has hardly been seen for the better part of a decade. He tells me the clan suspects her mind was lost when tragedy befell the Ross’s wife. Do ye recall the incident? It must be ten years ago now.”
“Vaguely,” Alex replied. “But tell me of Ross himself. His daughter does not concern me.”
“Camran said he expelled most of the servants from the keep and spends his days alone now.”
Alex rubbed his jaw while he considered Laird Ross. “Mayhap, he despairs. His clan may not be starving, but the same ill wind blows beyond Rionnag Loch that blows here. Come spring, I’m certain he’ll set his keep right.”
“’Tis possible, but these are dark times to be sure.”
Alex nodded grimly.
“Were ye able to buy fresh horses this year past?” Thomas asked, his eyes glinting with hope.
Alex pressed his lips together and shook his head.
Every year since the fire Thomas had asked the same question, first of Callum and now of Alex. Thomas’s shoulders stooped a little further. Alex knew he wanted what every other MacKenzie craved, for the return of the glory days when their stables were filled with the finest horses in the Highlands.
Just then Alex felt something graze his back. He turned and spied a grubby face peeking out from behind a hut. He glanced at the rock on the ground, which he knew had been thrown to snake his attention. Alex pretended not to notice as, one by one, the children peered around the corner to get another look at him before sprinting away.
“Get ye gone or your arses will be sore for a fortnight,” Thomas yelled after them. He turned back to Alex. “I’m sorry. Their mothers and fathers have taught them better.”
“They’re not to blame,” Alex said. He knew the boy had not wished to hurt him. He had only wanted Alex to turn around so the children could once more witness the scars that ravaged the right side of his face. He watched them race over the moors, no doubt spurred on by their fear that Thomas might make good on his threat of a walloping. But a sad smile curved Alex’s lips, knowing he was the real cause of their flight. When they looked at him, they did not see a man—they saw a monster.
The children had not injured his pride. As a lad, the taunts he had endured had caused him great heartache. But now that he was two and twenty and acting leader of his clan, the only emotion stirred by the terror that filled the children’s eyes, was regret. As fresh as new leaves at springtime was the memory of traveling throughout MacKenzie lands with his father. Alex had always ridden in front of his da, tucked close inside Callum’s arms, and when they approached a new croft, the children would race out to greet them. Callum had been father to the clan, and their people had prospered. Alex reached up and absently touched his raised and leathery skin, which extended from just below his eye, down his right cheek, neck, and shoulder. Although his scars had faded in color over the years, his skin was severely marred by the fire that had ushered the darkness into their lives. He was a fitting leader over a land as spoiled as his face.
With regret, Alex looked away from the fleeing children to follow Thomas into a small hut, which housed the community’s meager count of oat sacks.
“Rot spread from the root before the fields could ripen,” Thomas said.
Alex reached into one of the bags and scooped a handful of grain. Letting the fragments sift through his fingers, he observed the small size and gray tint. The land was cursed, and only God knew the secret that might right all that was hopelessly wrong.
After he finished going over the stores and refused Thomas’s offer of rent, he scanned the grounds. Jamie engaged the children in a game of monster. He growled while his attackers wielded wooden swords. Alex shook his head when he spied the children’s bare feet. Few deer roamed the moors anymore, and to enter the forest meant certain death. There simply was not enough hide to fill his people’s needs. Shaking away his grim thoughts, he began to inspect the huts. They seemed in good shape, but the winter wind had only just begun to blow. He needed to make certain they had peat enough for future repairs.
Turning a corner, he spied a young lass of around fifteen years whom he did not recognize. She had a wee one on her hip, a basket on her head, and a large bundle slipping from her grip. He rushed forward and scooped up the linen sack.
“Ye’ve got your hands full.” He angled his head to the right to diminish the impact of his scars.
“Between the wash and my wee sister here, I would say so,” she said, looking to the small child who had begun to fuss in her arms. She hitched the girl higher up on her hip and then looked up at Alex. Her smi
le faltered. “Saints above,” she said, making a hasty sign of the cross and hurried away without another word.
“Ye forgot your wash,” he called after her.
A moment later, Jamie came up behind him. “She liked ye.” He rested his hands on his knees while he tried to catch his breath. “I can tell.”
“How’s that?” Alex said
“I saw her smile from over there.”
Alex snorted. “Then ye missed the part when she looked up and choked back a scream.”
Jamie rolled his eyes. “Ye exaggerate.”
“She made the sign of the cross at me. Who was she anyway?”
“Do ye not recall that Finn took a wife from Clan Ross last year? He now has two daughters grown. Ye’ve just met one.”
Alex lifted his hand in a careless gesture. “Something tells me I’ll not be meeting the other.”
Jamie shrugged. “Her loss. She’s all wrong for ye anyway. What ye need is a rich wife.”
Alex scowled and pushed past Jamie. He had endured enough misery for one day without dwelling upon his marriage prospects. “Leave them some grain and this.” He swept the hide from his shoulders. “Tell Thomas he must make shoes for the children with it.”
“Where are ye going?” Jamie called after him.
“Home to Sonas.” Home, where if people made the sign of the cross when they saw him, they at least had the decency to wait until his back was turned.
CHAPTER 2
Kendrick eased the door of his granny’s croft shut. Resting his head against the slatted wood, he released a heavy sigh. No matter how he begged, she still refused to leave her isolated home on the hill, which overlooked the water, to live with him and his Aggie. Once again she had dismissed his concern by saying, “I must keep the home fires lit.”
Long before the wolves came, before Kendrick was even born, her husband had set out one morning to fish the North Minch and never returned. And despite the passing of decades, she still clung to hope of reuniting with her lost love. With a shake of his head, Kendrick turned away, heading back toward the village. Many within the clan had advised him to force the old woman from her home, but who was he to tell her to give up hope? Hope was all any of them had left.
The sun had already sunk beneath the horizon. Kendrick had stayed too long, but having been absent for weeks making the rounds with his laird, his granny had missed his company and had begged he stay for dinner. Now, while the violets of twilight painted the hills, he knew it had been a mistake. He didn’t even have a horse—another mistake. His heart lurched when he thought of his Aggie who at that moment likely stood in their doorway, her eyes fixed on the path home. He picked up his pace. Aggie had already worried enough while he was away. The last thing he wanted was to prolong her suffering.
Violet gave way to shades of gray. Soon night would blot out the path. Looking heavenward, he prayed for the moon and stars to light his way, but the sky hung heavy with clouds. He started to run. Long had it been since one of the clan was taken by wolves. But then again, no one ever went out after dark.
*
Alex’s eyes flitted over a piece of parchment as he assessed the financial state of the MacKenzie clan with Edmund, who had been charged with keeping the clan’s books for nearly twenty years. Alex pushed off the table with his hands, scattering pages to the ground while he stood and began to pace the room. He had hoped the investment he had made in seed over the past two years would have added more to the coffer, but the crops had barely managed to feed his people. Having a surplus to sell at market had amounted to nothing more than a lost dream.
“’Tis grim, indeed,” Edmund muttered, his slim shoulders hunched over pages that had escaped Alex’s anger. He entered the last of the tallied rents into the ledger and quietly collected the errant pages. Edmund had always been a man of few words, for which Alex had never been more grateful. He did not need his bookkeeper to expound on just how badly their losses trumped their gains. Suffice it to say, the MacKenzies were still impoverished.
Alex sighed. Another year would pass without being able to buy fresh horse stock. They would breed the same animals and for another year would be no closer to reclaiming the glory of the MacKenzie name. He slammed his fist down upon the table at the same moment a knock sounded at the door. He looked up and stared at the slatted wood. Doubtless, whoever stood on the other side brought only bad news.
Squaring his shoulders, he opened the door. Jamie leaned his forearm against the wall and rested his head in the crook of his elbow. His blond hair glinted in the torch light illuminating the long corridor. When he lifted his head, weary blue eyes greeted Alex.
“Ye look dreadful,” Alex said. A frown downturned Jamie’s wickedly full lips. Alex could not help but roll his eyes. Even when Jamie looked like hell he was still painfully good looking. Alex angled his head, presenting Jamie with his left side.
“’Tis an insult when ye do that to me, ye know.” Jamie pushed past Alex. “Look me dead on, or I’ll knock ye to the ground.”
Alex cocked his brow at his smaller friend. “I’d like to see ye try.” Jamie was not a small man, but no one compared to Alex in size with the exception of his younger brother, Murdock, who at nineteen was the biggest MacKenzie in the clan. For a moment, Alex’s mind was occupied with concern for his troubled brother whom he had not seen for a fortnight. Murdock frequently disappeared for weeks or even months at a time without sending word of his whereabouts or wellbeing, which frustrated Alex to no end. But he knew not the word or deed that might heal Murdock’s damaged soul.
“I will leave ye now,” Edmund interjected quietly. His eyes drooped with either fatigue or worry as he shuffled out the open door without waiting for a reply.
“He’s as loquacious as ever,” Jamie said dryly before collapsing in the chair behind the table.
“Any sign of Kendrick?” Alex asked.
Jamie’s frown returned. “Nay.” He glanced at a piece of parchment the bookkeeper had left behind. “Judging by Edmund’s sour face can I assume our coffers are as bare as ever?”
“Ye made the rounds with me. Ye ken the state of our clan,” Alex said impatiently. “What of Kendrick?”
Shoving aside the paper, Jamie rested his elbows on the table and dropped his head in his hands. “We’ve found no trace of him,” he said, his voice muffled. “We’ve searched everywhere.”
Alex suddenly felt tired. His arms hung slack at his sides.
“’Tis hopeless,” Jamie said.
“Nay,” Alex snapped. He shook the despair from his thoughts and started to pace the room. “Tomorrow, ye’ll lead another search.”
“There’s no place left to look, unless ye wish us to enter the forest.”
Alex whirled around. “Never. Ye’d be as dead as Kendrick.”
Both Jamie and he locked eyes. He had uttered words he could not take back. Kendrick’s dead.
Alex shifted his gaze to the ground. “How’s Aggie?”
“Out of her mind with grief, but I did as ye bid and tried to comfort her, though it should have been ye.”
Alex shook his head. “I’ve always made her uncomfortable.”
Jamie snorted. “That’s a blatant exaggeration,”
“On the contrary, it was an understatement. In truth, I frighten her.”
“I don’t care. Ye’re her laird,” Jamie snapped.
“I’m not her laird.” Alex crossed to the window. He pulled the hide back and gazed at the moon peeking through wisps of cloud. “Not yet anyway.” He dropped the hide in place and returned to the table. Flattening his large hands on the surface, he leaned toward Jamie. “More than a decade has passed since the wolves descended. A decade of scarcity and death with no relief in sight. Even if we could fight those beasts, we’ve naught the money to arm our men or food to feed their strength. How am I to change our fortune?”
Jamie stared him hard in the eye. “Are ye looking to be placated, or do ye seek an honest answer?”
Alex sc
owled at his friend, but kept his silence, despite knowing what Jamie would say.
“Ye should marry. The MacKenzie name is good and your lands vast. Despite our barren coffers, ye could still find a rich wife and change everyone’s fortune.”
Familiar fury coursed through Alex’s veins. He gritted his teeth and stared at his friend. His eyes swept from Jamie’s rakishly mussed blond hair to his sun-kissed skin to his features that were so fine—almost too fine. Jamie was beautiful. Maids became tongue-tied around him. Feminine eyes followed him everywhere he went. How could a man like Jamie understand his dilemma?
Alex turned away.
“Enough,” Jamie barked.
“Excuse me.” Alex spun back around, glowering at his friend’s audacity. “Are ye actually saying ‘enough’ to me when I’m the one who’s had to listen to that same impossible suggestion every day for the past three years.”
“Aye,” Jamie yelled. “And ye can be damn sure that I’ll say it again until ye take a blasted wife.”
Alex’s eyes widened at Jamie’s loss of temper, a rare occurrence even when provoked.
Jamie folded his arms across his chest. “I’ve had my fill of your self-pity. I say this not just as your closest friend and adviser but as a MacKenzie. Your clan needs ye. May the Lord look with mercy upon your father, but ye and I both know his days are numbered. Ye’ll be chieftain soon and this clan, with all of its heartache, falls to ye. Ye, Alex. Do ye ken? Ye must take a wife, one with fortune. I don’t care what your face looks like.”
Alex reached out and grabbed hold of Jamie, dragging him out of the chair and onto the table. “Maids do not marry monsters,” Alex growled, then set Jamie on his feet and turned away.
He reached up and grazed his jagged skin. Fate had cast him into a hell for which he had no escape.
“Ye’re no monster,” Jamie snapped.
“Keep your flattery. I’ve heard it all before. I’m a good man. I ken.”
“Ye’re a blind man.”
Alex was about to reply that the same could be said of Jamie, when scampering outside the door drew both men’s attention. Margaret, the upstairs maid, flung the door wide.
Highland Shadows (Beautiful Darkness Series Book 1) Page 2
